by Craig Allen
They continued toward the Nest, a solitary plateau where the fliers made their home.
Fliers flew throughout the Hive. Cody’s suit read magnetic fluctuations between them as they spoke to one another. He even detected precipitation at the higher altitudes, some two kilometers over the artificial ground, but the rain evaporated before it hit the ground.
The interior walls of the Hive were visible at a distance farther than what Kali’s horizon would have been. He saw more red bushes and shrubs and even some growth along an outcropping of rock. There was even a group of five dish trees in the distance, ambling along the artificial plain. What he didn’t see was the red grass common to Kali Prime, which had always been a mystery to him.
The plateau stood a good hundred meters from the hatch and rose up about thirty meters. They approached and walked up a ramp circling the plateau.
“Wonder what these ramps are for,” Gaston said. “Fliers don’t use them.”
“Maybe the Hive made them for us?”
The climb would’ve been difficult if not for the actuators in Cody’s enviro-suit. The gravity inside the Hive was that of Kali Prime: one point two times that of Earth.
The top of the plateau, what Cody had termed the Nest, was empty. All the fliers were out and about. As far as Cody could tell, that was a good thing. They were flying, which meant they didn’t feel cooped up.
In the center of the plateau was a depression, almost perfectly circular. Fliers sometimes created those on their own by chipping away at the rock. They used them as nests for their eggs. Mating season was coming soon, apparently. Cody had no idea if the fliers had carved out the depression or if the Hive had created it.
He zoomed in his HUD viewer on a point on the side of the Nest opposite where the Olympus Mons had docked. A handful of fliers were tending to the meat plants in a garden. Scientists aboard the Tokugawa had created them nearly a year before. They took root in the Hive quite readily. Enough plants were growing to feed the fliers indefinitely, as if the Hive knew. Fortunately, Cody couldn’t smell the rotting meat through his suit.
Gaston pointed. “Looks like we got noticed.”
One flier circled the plateau, losing altitude with each orbit. Finally, he skidded to a stop next to the depression in the center. The flier’s beak retracted into its head as he approached. A single stripe covered the pinkish follicles on his head. He furled his wings and held out his central claw, which grasped a flat, portable viewer.
A message had already been scrawled across it.
You have made it as we requested and hope you are well.
“Thanks, Stripe. How are you holding up?”
Stripe set the viewer on the ground, tapped out a message with his single claw, then showed the viewer to Cody.
Our young from last season are flying on their own and are used to their surroundings.
“That’s good news,” Gaston said. “Glad the tykes are learning?”
Stripe tilted its head in an oddly human gesture. It tapped out another message.
This word tyke is not known but it seems like you mean our young?
“Yes, he means your children,” Cody said.
You have found us a new home I hope while we tell our young about how large our home was but they do not believe a place could be so large.
Cody frowned. He had been as busy as hell, working with scientists back home to find a habitable world for the fliers. A needle in a haystack would be child’s play next to the task he’d undertaken. Humans had populated many worlds, but before doing so, they terraformed them, a process that took years. Even then, visitors to those worlds had to receive minor surgical alterations to handle the different environments. Oxygen levels, gravity, particulates in the air—every world was unique. They would never find a world that fit the fliers’ needs perfectly. They’d have to make one, which cost money. The UET was trying to fit that into their budget for the fiscal year, but it wasn’t a popular measure.
Cody was beginning to lose hope.
“We’re still looking,” he said. “We’ll either find one or terraform one.”
Fliers didn’t have necks like humans, but Stripe managed to do a head bob that simulated the nod of a human head. Cody had gotten better at reading the body language of the fliers, but at that point, he couldn’t tell if Stripe was upset or not.
“That’s not the only reason you called us here, though, is it?” Cody asked.
Stripe swung his head from side to side, again imitating the human gesture.
We have found something in the rock that is not rock that disturbs us.
The fliers came from a violent world, but they were generally peaceful beings. The category of things that could disturb them was quite large.
“Care to be more specific?” Gaston asked.
It appeared yesterday and reached out for a young one and pulled the child away before the wall grasped her.
Cody started to rub his chin but managed to stop before his hand touched his faceplate. “Could we see this place?”
Stripe gave a nod. The electromagnetic sensors on Cody’s suit showed an increase in magnetism coming from Stripe. A moment later, another flier searched overhead then landed.
It is far away from here so we carry you.
“Carry?” Gaston’s eyes widened. “Can’t we just walk?”
Stripe pointed with one of his wings.
It is far that way and will take you much time to reach there but we are strong and move fast so it will take no time.
Gaston stared at the sentence on the viewer for a moment then stared at Cody. “You sure about this, Doc?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” Cody said. “But yeah, it’ll be safe.”
Gaston grumbled as the two fliers took to the air and hovered over him and Cody. “As long as they don’t drop us in the mouth of one of their kids.”
~~~
Cody relaxed as best as he could while Stripe carried him, gripping the storage handles on the back of his suit, to the far edge of the Nest. He spotted beds of plants periodically. On Kali, the chemical that performed the same task as chlorophyll on Earth was reddish in color. Unlike the plants on Earth, the plants of Kali danced in the wind and often uprooted themselves and moved to sunnier areas on their own. But these plants remained perfectly still, as if they had been painted on the ground.
“They’re like plastic plants.” Gaston spoke over the comm system, his voice coming from the right side of Cody’s helmet, where Gaston was being carried by the other flier, giving Cody a sense of Gaston’s location, just as if they had not been wearing helmets.
“The Hive made it for them,” Cody said. “To make them feel at home, maybe?”
“Thought the fliers were terrified of their own world,” Gaston said. “Makes me wonder why they want to go back.”
“They want a new home,” Cody said.
He reminded himself that the fliers could understand every word they said, even though no human alive could understand the fliers’ electromagnetic communication.
The wall came into view. Stripe kept flying until it was almost on top of them.
“Uh, Stripe?” Cody said.
Stripe veered away some ten meters from the wall as Gaston let out a cussing fit. Both Stripe and the flier carrying Gaston circled as they made their way to the ground. A moment later, Cody was standing on his own two feet.
“Goddamn it.” Gaston landed near Cody and checked his suit where the flier had grasped him. “I’d rather travel on a broken Daedalus drive.”
Stripe hobbled up to Cody and held up the viewer.
The strange place is here.
Cody started to ask where, but he saw it at once. The wall was bare everywhere except in one section, where several pinkish tentacles protruded, almost like an octopus had been trapped in the wall headfirst. Cody started for it, but Gaston grasped him.
“Hold on there, Doc.” Gaston pointed at two fliers standing by the wall. “Look at that.”
A tentacle reached for the other flier, who got too close. The tentacle missed, after which the flier scurried away and the tentacle relaxed again, seeming disappointed.
“We saw some shrubs and trees earlier,” Cody said.
Stripe bobbed his head.
They are nothing like the creatures at our home.
“And there’s nothing like this back home?” Gaston asked.
Stripe whipped his head back and forth.
Cody stepped forward again, crouching instinctively. The tentacles didn’t seem to notice him.
“Have any of your people touched it?” Cody asked.
Again, Stripe whipped his head back and forth.
Cody got within two meters of it. The tentacles did nothing.
“Doc,” Gaston said.
Cody held out a hand. He was within one meter, then half a meter. Nothing happened.
Stripe jumped up and down. Electromagnetism spiked on Cody’s suit’s sensors, but he didn’t bother turning around to see what Stripe wanted.
Cody slapped at one of the tentacles. It quivered briefly then settled down.
“Doc, that’s enough.” Gaston joined him. “What if that thing gobbles you up?”
“It’s not reacting to my presence.” Cody pointed at the nearby flier who had backed away when the tentacles reached for him. “But it likes the fliers.”
“They’ve been here longer.” Gaston shrugged. “I think this job is above our educational level, Doc.”
“Could be.” Cody backed away, and the fliers’ shoulders sagged, as if in relief. “Obviously, I think you guys should stay away from it. I can contact some of our people who are experts in alien biological organisms. Maybe they can learn something.”
We will do what you think is best and we will stay away.
“Good.” Cody dusted off his hands. “Well, if there’s nothing else, maybe we can—”
The ground felt as if it was shifting under Cody’s feet—not enough to make Cody fall, but just enough that he jumped away from the tentacles. But Cody realized the ground wasn’t shifting. The entire Hive was.
“The hell?” Gaston brought up his comm. “Olympus Mons, this is Gaston.”
No response came.
“Hey, you clowns. This is your captain speaking. We just felt the ground shift. Any of you guys have any idea what’s going on?”
Johnson finally responded, panicked. “Captain, we have a problem. The Hive has shifted orbit.”
“Again?” Cody asked. “Where is she now?”
“She’s diving toward the sun,” Johnson said. “ETA about—”
A blare of white noise shot through the comm, followed by silence.
~~~
Sonja stared at lights throughout the ship as they winked out. Door monitors, holoconsoles, and even the hopper’s running lights had all shut down. After a couple seconds of utter darkness, emergency systems kicked on, dimly illuminating the hall.
Sonja activated the comm implanted in her ear but remembered how big the Olympus Mons was, or rather wasn’t. She dashed to the bridge, arriving in under twenty seconds. Emergency lights and holoconsoles were glowing throughout much of the bridge. The half dozen people on the bridge struggled with controls frantically, but all Sonja saw was a lot of red words that all said the same thing: Systems Down.
“Commander, what’s going on?”
Lieutenant Commander Galloway spun around in his chair and stared at Sonja. “Is the hopper online?”
“Her running lights are down, sir.” Sonja glanced back down the hall but couldn’t quite see the hopper. “That wouldn’t happen unless her reactor was down. What could cause that?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Galloway turned in his chair. “Johnson, I want some answers.”
“You and me both, sir.” Johnson jumped to another station and ran his hands over the holocontrols, which answered with red lights. “The main reactors are down. Backups, too. We’re on battery power.”
“What the hell happened to those reactors?” Galloway asked.
“Unknown, sir.” Johnson manipulated the holocontrols at one station, and a graphic appeared above him. “The fusion processes in the reactors simply halted. There’s plenty of hydrogen, but the hydrogen’s not fusing into helium.”
“Impossible.” The lieutenant commander stood. “You don’t just stop a fusion process in the middle of raw plasma.”
“Something did.” Johnson scrolled through some text on a flat screen. “Everything was operating within nominal parameters one second. The next, all power readings stopped.”
“Commander.” An ensign turned around in her chair. “I have external view available.”
“Put it on.” The lieutenant commander strode toward the main holoviewer. “I want to know what’s going on out there.”
The main viewing globe came online. Kali’s sun was visible, filling most of the screen. Sonja understood the numbers scrolling across the bottom of the screen, but she couldn’t believe what they were indicating. They were diving into the sun.
Sonja looked at the commander. “Sir, what do we do?”
He stared at the readings. “How long until we cook?”
“About eight hours, sir,” Johnson said. “Our main shielding is down. Our electromagnetic fields that deflect radioactive particles are also nonfunctional.”
“All hands,” the commander said. “Abandon ship. I say again, abandon ship.”
“Escape pods?” Sonja asked.
“Negative.” Johnson brought up sensors. “The reactors in the pods are down as well. We launch in those, and we’ll just fall into the sun or crash onto the surface of the Hive, which is also currently on a course for the sun. We’ll cook either way.”
The lieutenant commander stared at the holovisual. “I want options.”
“Can we disengage the Olympus Mons from the Hive, sir?” Sonja asked.
Johnson shook his head. He altered the sensor view on the main viewing globe.
Sonja’s mouth fell open. The docking collar of the Hive had enveloped part of the ship, melding itself with the hull and fusing them together.
“Even if we had full thrust, I’m not sure we could get away,” Johnson said.
Sonja ran through as many options as she could, trying not to think about Cody in the Hive. All she could do was hope he would be safe. At that moment, she had to save herself and everyone on the Olympus Mons. But all she knew was fighting and flying a hopper, which required a functional reactor.
But the hopper had battery backups as well, which were tied into maneuvering thrusters.
“What about the hopper’s docking tube, sir?” Sonja asked. “Is it blocked?”
Johnson adjusted the view again. The docking tube was present and clear of the Hive. In the distance, about half a kilometer away, Sonja saw what looked like another nipple along the Hive’s hull.
“There.” She reached for the controls and zoomed in on the docking point. “We can use the hopper’s maneuvering jets on backup battery power, get to that docking point, and maybe the Hive will let us enter.”
Johnson spoke up. “I’ve got comms back up. Commander Gaston’s asking for a report.”
“Pipe him through.” Galloway cleared his throat. “Sir, have you been apprised of our current situation?”
“Yes, Johnson filled me in.” Gaston’s voice echoed throughout the bridge. “Get your asses inside the Hive. That’s an order.”
“We’ll just cook in there, won’t we?” the lieutenant commander asked.
“I don’t think so,” Cody said.
Sonja breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Cody’s voice.
“From what we can tell, the Hive is taking care of anyone inside its superstructure,” Cody said. “It might be trying to recharge itself, or its just heading in another direction that happens to pass near the sun, which it doesn’t consider a threat. Either way, I’m certain it won’t let the fliers come to harm, and by extension, us.”
&nb
sp; “What if you’re wrong?” Johnson asked.
“We know for a fact you’ll barbecue your balls out there,” Gaston said. “Now, all of you find a way inside the hopper. Pronto.”
“Aye, sir.” Galloway faced Sonja. “So, Ensign, you had a plan, didn’t you? How soon can we launch?”
“As soon as we can get everyone aboard, sir,” she said.
~~~
Sonja sat patiently in the cockpit with Galloway and Johnson while two crewmen hand cranked the rear hatch closed. She could’ve used the hopper’s batteries, but she wanted to reserve every bit of power for their short voyage—the controls that allowed her to maneuver the hopper and, more importantly, life support.
The hatch hissed shut, and one crewman gave a thumbs-up.
Johnson relayed the message. “We’re sealed.”
“Very good.” Galloway sat in the co-pilot’s seat and waved at Sonja. “Get us out of here, Ensign.”
“Yes, sir.” She fired up the controls and life support then brought the thrusters online. She glanced behind her at the three dozen crewmembers of the Olympus Mons, packed into the hopper. “Hold on to something. Internal gravity is nonfunctional.”
A series of oh shits echoed forward as Sonja sent a command to the explosive bolts along the hatch. One by one, the bolts went off, and the visible section of the launch tube slowly vanished. Air rushed into space ahead of the hopper, along with loose debris from the hangar bay.
“Here we go.” Sonja disengaged the docking points, and the hopper floated free. “Engaging thrusters.”
She gave a short burst of thrust, which pushed her back into her seat. From her readings, it had been about half a g of thrust, enough to inspire shouting in the hopper’s main bay.
“Hang on back there,” Galloway called. “Steady as she goes, Ensign.”
