Colony B Box Set

by Michael Campling

  Lyndsey folded her arms. “All right, Kyrksen, it’s your turn. Like Blaney said, we’re all stuck out here in no man’s land, so let’s have your intelligence report. And it had better be good.”

  Kyrksen hesitated then lifted his chin, peering down his nose at Blaney. “You’ll be gratified to know that the fire we saw was certainly not a bushfire, nor anything like it.” He paused, turning his head slowly to look around the group.

  “Go on then.” Alec gestured toward Kyrksen. “We don’t have time for dramatic speeches. Just tell us what you found for God’s sake.”

  Kyrksen wrinkled his nose in distaste, then carried on as if Alec hadn’t spoken. “And I’m sure you’ll be interested to hear what the drones discovered.” He cleared his throat. “The fire we saw on the high ground was not natural but controlled and contained. And as I predicted, that range of hills is definitely inhabited.”

  For a moment there was only the whirr of cooling fans and the faint clicks of electrical relays echoing around the compartment. And Kyrksen smiled.

  “What?” Crissy Warren asked. “Are you sure? What Alec said was right—the terra-drones aren’t cut out for surveillance—and I should know.”

  Lara Harper, sitting next to Crissy, nodded emphatically. “You can’t be certain of anything, Kyrksen. The drones can’t have been deployed for long, and they’re slow. Plus, they have a ceiling of what, twenty feet above ground level?”

  “Thirty,” Kyrksen replied. “And yes, I’m absolutely certain of my findings. I set the drones to keep a safe distance so they wouldn’t be detected, but even so, we retrieved an excellent set of thermal images. I can confirm the existence of at least fifty occupied buildings.” Kyrksen finished with a flourish then surveyed his audience, his eyes bright.

  And everyone spoke at once:

  “Who are they?”

  “Where the hell did they come from?”

  “Are they human?”

  “We should pull back, just in case.”

  Lyndsey watched them bicker for a moment, her face impassive. The pilots had all toiled through long years of dull drudgery and unchanging routine; they needed a little time to adjust to this new situation. She’d give them a second, then she’d put them straight. But before she could say anything, Jackson Delaney, the youngest of the pilots, raised his hand and his voice: “Stop!” The noise died instantly. “We don’t have time to waste on speculation,” Jackson went on. “We need Kyrksen to finish his report. We can’t plan a response until we have the facts.”

  “Thank you, Jackson,” Lyndsey said. “At least someone around here has a little sense left.” She focused her attention on Kyrksen. “Finish your report, but if we have any more dramatics, I’ll throw you out the airlock myself. Understood?”

  Kyrksen nodded unhappily. “As I was trying to say, there are at least fifty metallic structures on the highest ground, and they all showed heat signatures that strongly suggest they’re inhabited. Given the irregular landscape, and the fact that we didn’t want to risk sending the drones any closer, there may well be more structures. Or perhaps the inhabitants have created caves or dug tunnels—we would’ve had difficulty isolating heat signatures from beneath the rock.”

  Alec and Blaney exchanged glances, and Jackson furrowed his brow, but all three remained tight-lipped. Crissy turned to Lara and mouthed the word ‘Moles’. Lara smirked, but Lyndsey gave her a stern frown, and her smile faded away.

  Blaney ran his fingers over his beard. “Caves and tunnels? What makes you think that?”

  Kyrksen stared at each of them in turn. “I used the word perhaps,” he insisted. “I’m putting forward a hypothesis. Underground shelters are a logical way to seek protection from the symbiont.”

  Slowly, deliberately, Blaney shook his head. “I’ve not surveyed this particular highland, but the hills in this part of the continent tend to be soft sedimentary rocks. It’s like shale but packed looser, and it tends to flake apart. It’s too brittle for tunnels and caves—it would need too much reinforcement.”

  There were more smirks around the group. Kyrksen moved his lips soundlessly for a second, then he sat back and stared into the middle distance, the corner of his left eye twitching rapidly.

  Lyndsey sighed. One more day of this kindergarten bullshit and she’d put on a suit, jump off the damned truck and just keep walking, leaving these jokers to argue among themselves. The problem was, she’d had the same thought yesterday. And the day before that. She ran a hand over her brow. “Kyrksen, what can you tell me about occupancy rates?”

  Kyrksen perked up. “It seems to vary, but on average I’d estimate three to four people per building.”

  “So,” Lyndsey said. “We’ve got to figure on around two-hundred people. Maybe more.”

  Kyrksen nodded. “Assuming they’re human, that is.”

  “Let’s address that,” Alec put in. “Where did they come from?” He gave Lyndsey a meaningful look. “Should we discuss the signal?”

  “What’s this?” Crissy asked. “What do you mean, Alec?”

  Lyndsey hesitated. “Go on, Alec. You’ll explain it better than me.”

  Alec cleared his throat. “Okay. First, you have to appreciate that what I’m about to tell you was need to know—that’s what Doctor Teare decided at the time, and I agreed.”

  Kyrksen let out a grunt, but Alec ignored him and carried on. “Quite a few years back, I picked up a signal. You all know how the ion streams in the atmosphere mess with our long-range comms, but this was a distress call, and it must’ve bounced through somehow.”

  “What kind of distress call?” Jackson asked. “I guess it must’ve been from humans if you understood it, but where the hell was it coming from?”

  “You’re right, the signal definitely had a human source,” Lyndsey put in. “In fact, it was in English. It was distorted, but we caught enough to know that it came from a ship in deep trouble. It sounded like they’d lost guidance, control systems, life support—you name it.”

  “I did my best to trace it back to its origin,” Alec said. “It wasn’t possible to be one hundred percent sure, but it looked like their ship entered the atmosphere at the wrong angle. Their heat shields weren’t holding, and…” Alec held out his hands. “That was it. The signal cut off.”

  Blaney stood up, pushing his chair back so it scraped across the floor. “And you didn’t tell us? You didn’t send out a rescue mission?” He shook his head. “That’s cold, Lyndsey. Even for you, that’s goddamned cold.”

  “Sit down!” Alec growled. “You’re out of line, Blaney.”

  “No, I damned well won’t sit down! I won’t listen to another word. This is bullshit!” Blaney started to turn away, but Jackson reached over and grabbed his arm.

  “Please, sit down, Blaney,” Jackson said, keeping his voice level. “You should hear Alec out. Listen to what he has to say.”

  Blaney snatched his arm from Jackson’s grip, but he didn’t step back. Instead, he took a couple deep breaths, his barrel chest heaving. “All right,” he snapped, “I’ll listen. I’m not saying I’m going to put up with any bullshit, but I’ll listen.” He regained his seat, his posture stiff, leaning forward as though about to leap from his chair.

  “I understand how you feel,” Lyndsey said. “But, Blaney, this isn’t about…about Jeanie. This was a very different situation.”

  “Completely different,” Alec went on. “We couldn’t help these people, couldn’t even try. The ship most likely burned up in the atmosphere, but even if it didn’t, it was heading out over the ocean. I figured its trajectory as best as I could, but even with a margin for error, there was no way the ship could’ve come down on dry land. There was nothing we could’ve done. Even if we’d been able to travel that far over water, we’d have found nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Blaney hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. For a full three seconds, no one said a word.

  Lyndsey broke the silence. “There was no point in telling everyo
ne about this at the time, and maybe you can understand why I kept it quiet. Life is hard enough without thinking about what might’ve been. Even if we’d just told the people in this room, the news would’ve got out somehow and it would’ve upset the crews. There could’ve been trouble and you know it. It’s tough to keep everyone pulling in the same direction at the best of times.” She paused and sat down on the empty chair. “Let’s get back to the here and now. This is a whole new ballgame. We’ve found signs of life, and we have to reevaluate the situation and make some decisions.”

  “This damaged ship—is it possible some of the crew got away before it broke up?” Crissy asked. “An escape pod or something?”

  Blaney shook his head. “The ocean’s vast. If the ship was headed that way, I don’t think any kind of escape pod could’ve cleared it.”

  “True,” Lyndsey replied. “But I think we can rule that out anyway. From what we heard in the signal, I’d guess they had a ship-wide systems failure. I don’t think they could’ve launched an escape pod—not successfully anyhow. And we’re looking at hundreds of survivors on this hill, that would’ve been hard to accomplish with escape pods.”

  Crissy shrugged. “What then?”

  “Ah!” Kyrksen clicked his fingers. “More than one ship. You think the damaged ship wasn’t alone.”

  Lyndsey nodded. “From what you said, it sounds like a bunch of people has found a way to survive up there, and that would take a significant amount of resources. Now, I’m not ruling anything out, but that sounds like an organized group of settlers. Human settlers.”

  “I agree,” Alec said. “And if there was another ship, and they did make it to the surface, they could be well-prepared and well-armed.”

  “Oh my God,” Jackson breathed. “Two hundred people—that’s a small army.”

  Blaney sniffed and lifted his head. “Or a bunch of helpless, half-starved poor souls scraping out a living. And don’t forget, some of them could be kids. And then there’s the elderly and the sick.”

  “We need to mount a recon mission,” Kyrksen said. He clapped his hands together. “We need boots on the ground, as soon as we can.”

  Lyndsey chewed the inside of her cheek and looked around the group until her gaze came to rest on Alec. “How close could we take the trucks?”

  “I’d say we could go up to around five hundred yards from the hill,” Alec replied. “That’s enough to protect us from small arms fire. And if there’s any trouble, we can get out the way pretty fast.”

  “Is that near enough for you, Kyrksen?” Lyndsey asked.

  “Plenty,” Kyrksen replied. “In fact, I’d like to keep a bit more distance than that. I’d like, er…” He licked his lips. “I’d like a bigger safety margin—say, eight or nine hundred yards.”

  “All right, nine hundred yards it is,” Lyndsey said. “We’ll wait until first light, but then we move out. And I want everybody ready. Crissy, I want the drones deployed when we move. No need to dismount Kyrksen’s surveillance kit, it could be useful. And test the sonic disruptors, okay?”

  Crissy frowned. “The drones aren’t going to get damaged, are they? Only—”

  “Don’t worry about your precious drones,” Lyndsey interrupted. “I just want to make sure the damned things can defend themselves.” She turned her attention to Alec. “I want you to prepare security details in case we need to send them outside. You choose the personnel—I trust your judgment.” She hesitated and glanced at Blaney, then lowered her voice to a murmur. “But for God’s sake, Alec, make sure they’ve all had a basic weapons test recently. And tell them to check their goddamned rifles. I don’t want any mistakes. No accidents.”

  “Understood.” Alec looked Lyndsey in the eye. “Don’t worry, we may not even need to deploy them, but if we do put boots on the ground, we’ll be careful. Everything will be fine.”

  Lyndsey pursed her lips. “I hope so, Alec. I really do.” She broke eye contact with Alec and raised her voice to address them all. “That’s it for now. Go back to your trucks and brief your teams. Tell them there might be some people alive out there, but make sure the crews understand this just a recon mission, not a raid. We’re not about to go looking for trouble.”

  “Excuse me,” Lara piped up, “but if these people, these settlers or whatever, if they start a fight…what then?”

  “Then we’ll make them wish they hadn’t,” Lyndsey said. “The safety of our crews comes first, same as always.” She dipped her chin. “Dismissed.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The Hill

  CONNOR PEERED THROUGH THE PRE-DAWN GLOOM, keeping his eyes on Finn as the younger man bobbed through the mist, apparently making easy work of the rough terrain. We should be there soon, Connor thought. The damned container can’t be much farther, can it? He gritted his teeth and plodded onward. The rough track had petered out half a mile back, and the steep slope was littered with loose boulders and pockmarked with holes that seemed determined to trip him up. To make matters worse, the hillside was swathed in a chill mist that curled around every curve in the landscape, blending the solid ground with the inky sky.

  Connor hesitated, scanning the rocks ahead, searching for a landmark. Damn! He wasn’t as good at this as he used to be. He called out to Finn, “Hey, is the container just downhill from here, or is the mist playing tricks on my eyes?”

  Finn stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, we could head straight down, but we’d be heading onto the scree. Not so easy if you aren’t used to it.”

  Connor narrowed his eyes and peered down the hillside. It wasn’t too steep here, but the countless loose stones covering the slope formed a treacherous carpet at least two feet deep. It wouldn’t be easy to descend, but it wasn’t anything the team hadn’t handled before. So what was Finn playing at? Is he planning to take the pretty way around on my account? Connor wondered. Or is the son of a bitch trying to make me look bad? He caught up with Finn and stood at his side, then he waited for Parry and John to join them. “Parry, I’d like you to lead us for a while. Take us down to the container.”

  Parry nodded and set off immediately, heading straight down the slope.

  “Finn, bring up the rear,” Connor said.

  “Yeah,” Finn replied. “No problem.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth shut for once.

  The group trudged downhill, watching the ground. The loose shards of stone slipped beneath the worn soles of Connor’s boots, and chunks of dislodged gravel pattered down the hillside, bouncing from rock to rock and disappearing into the darkness. Connor placed his feet carefully; if he wrenched his ankle now, it would be bad for him, but worse for the team.

  Below, Parry was taking no chances. He set a fast pace but led them on a gentle descent, zig-zagging across the slope. Even so, a drop of sweat trickled from Connor’s eyebrow, and he wiped his hand across his forehead then stole a glance back at John and Finn.

  “All right, boss?” Finn asked, and there was the hint of a smile tugging at the younger man’s lips as if he was enjoying Connor’s discomfort.

  “Fine,” Connor snapped. He returned his attention to the path ahead, but not before he registered that Finn wasn’t sweating, wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Coming through,” Finn called out, and he must’ve passed John because he appeared at Connor’s side.

  Connor frowned. “Finn, I told you to bring up the rear.”

  “Sure, I’ll go back in a second, but I wanted to talk to you about something. And you always say, if there’s anything—”

  “Go ahead,” Connor interrupted. This wasn’t the time or the place for a discussion, but he made a point of listening to the concerns of everyone in the patrol team. The entire group, some forty souls, was made up of volunteers, and if he didn’t run it right, if he didn’t hold the men and women together, the team would dwindle and die.

  “What I said last night,” Finn began, “I wasn’t trying to get out of this trip. I was just thinking of Una. I didn’t wan
t to disturb her this morning. She has enough on her plate.”

  “You’re right there,” Connor said. How many kids did the man have? Was it three or four?

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Finn said. “I’m not complaining. The kids are a handful but they’re great. It’s just…you know how it is.”

  “You need a bigger house.” Connor smiled to himself. I’ve done it now, he thought. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?

  “Exactly!” Finn said as though astounded at Connor’s perceptiveness. “Did I mention this before?”

  “You’ve talked to the council?”

  “You bet,” Finn replied. “But by the time they make their minds up, the kids will have grown up and want homes of their own.”

  Connor gave a noncommittal grunt. Dear God, he thought, don’t let him drag me into an argument. “All right, Finn, thanks for letting me know. You’d better get back into position.”

  “No need,” Finn replied. “Looks like Parry’s stopping here.”

  “Oh yeah,” Connor said. He raised his voice and called out, “Everything all right, Parry?”

  Parry stopped walking and slid his rucksack off his shoulders. “Yeah, but we should take a break here.”

  Connor went forward to join him. “I’m okay to carry on. I think we should keep going until we get to the container. We can rest when we get there.”

  Parry shook his head. “Up here is better. We’re out of sight, and we’re far enough from the wall that we can breathe easy for a few minutes.”

  “How long to the container from here?” Connor asked.

  “At this pace, ten minutes, no more than that,” Parry replied. “We can still be suited up and down at the wall by sun up.”

  “Okay, I’m convinced.” Connor eased the straps from his rucksack and swung it to the ground next to Parry’s. “We’ll stop here for a while, guys. We should all have something to eat and drink. Go take a leak if you need to. Won’t be long before we put the suits on.”

  John and Finn slipped off their rucksacks, and all four men looked for places to take the weight off their feet. John and Finn sat alone, but Connor joined Parry, perching on the edge of a flat rock. Connor rummaged in his rucksack and grabbed his lunchbox and his bottle of water. He took a bite of cold crow meat, grateful that Calum had ignored his instruction to give him only bread, then he gazed down the hill while he chewed. “I reckon the mist is clearing.”