Sidereal Quest

by E Robert Dunn

  "Exactly." Capel turned to face his mate. "We'll go and reconnoiter that area for any signs of life. It's near the first well we dug two seasons ago. It's not that bad," he went on, doing a quick estimate. It wasn't that bad, but it was bad enough. "One rotate drive, tops. Maybe a couple more if we run into trouble."

  "Let's get to it," Nicraan said. Suddenly it was critical that they make tracks, the pilot's sixth sense was tingling. Something caught his attention on the outer rim of his consciousness. Something more than a little disturbing...

  "Keep in touch and make it quick," Dara reminded Capel, her inner self picked up on the same sensation that vibrated ever so subtly between the group.

  "Don't worry," he smiled, "you won't lose us!"

  "Who'll be on the away team?" Retho asked, his fresh youthful eyes flashing with the zest for adventure. He left the computer wall by the airlock's Inner Door and joined the others.

  Capel and Nicraan exchanged glances. The pilot grinned and nodded, his reasons stemming beyond professional. Capel appreciated his Number One's opinion.

  "It has to be small," the commander said evenly. "So, I'll be in command, Nicraan as navigator, for scientific analysis, BeeTee, and geological assessment, you, Retho. Affirmed? Any questions?"

  There was silence from the group. Capel studied them warmly. They had been through a lot and the bond they shared went far beyond the biological link woven between each. Pride filled his heart, and his eyes smiled even if his lips remained stoic. Moela, his eldest offspring, grinned back at him. Her beautiful features haloed in the dimness of the dusk lighting held by the upper deck's illumination fixtures. Her features were highlighted by the small distension of her impregnated abdomen.

  Moela understood Capel's reasons for selecting BeeTee over her for the scientific assignment. In her present condition, it was best that she rest and continue with her physical fitness routine uninterrupted. She now carried the last seed of Aidennia within her womb, and her condition was of the utmost priority amongst the Pioneer Four's staff.

  Subconsciously, she ran her hands over her lower quarters, seemingly stroking the unborn fetus affectionately ... and, perhaps mentally she did just that.

  Retho glanced over at his sister. The hurt over the deception, which led to the creation of Moela’s child, passed. He no longer allowed the pain and the feelings of betrayal to bombard him...it would do the group no good, nor himself. Nicraan was his again, never to be manipulated into going against the natural order of The Echelon. Their bonding was secured with Capel's and Dara's oath. The fear had past as well, and now Retho could only look at Moela with anticipation on the birth of what grew within the science officer's womb.

  "Good. Dara, you mind the store. Moela, see if you can get me more facts on what's going on with this planet and that Class-M star by the time we return," Capel announced, smiling at both disarmingly. Turning he addressed his pilot, "Nicraan, get the Landrover out of the garage, it's already prepped. Please bring it around to the side hatch. We're leaving as soon as possible. Retho and BeeTee get your short-range gear."

  Nicraan nodded and headed for the elevator. Retho nodded his departure and moved aft for the supply cabin with the syntheform to organize their gear.

  "Do you think you'll find anything?" Moela asked.

  Capel moved across the polished deck for the sealed airlock as he said, "We won't know until we go and investigate. Our scans here are inadequate."

  In the Maintenance Section, the all-terrain Landrover had been parked on its heavily reinforced, magnetic-lock resting slab. With purpose, Nicraan marched passed the slab’s hydraulic ingress/egress stanchions and over to the treaded vehicle; its fifty-four-retemed long, thirty-one-retemed wide, ten-retemed high structure gleamed beneath the ceiling lights.

  Inside, the transport was fitted out with gray upholstery and banks of electronic equipment. It was divided into sections, for different functions. The main passenger area was primarily a lab, with assay trays, assessment pans, and computer tie-ins for specimen analysis. The "lab" also included biochemistry equipment, micro-spectrometers, and a series of automatic sample-analyzers for geologic, botanical, and chemical study. Next to it there was an extensive computer section, a bank of processors, a communications section, and a mini-infirmary; across the aisle were squabs for passenger transit. On both sides of the cabin were polythermal reinforced-paned rectangular viewports about five retems up from the baseboards, six totally in all -- three on each wall. All the lab equipment was miniaturized and built into a console that slid into the starboard wall, and then bolted down. The back of the transporter was occupied with a homey little living module, complete with a compact kitchen, a toilet with walk-in shower, and four retractable bunk beds; storage compartments above and below the beds.

  From there, the end module was mostly utility storage: spare parts, portable lab equipment, shelves, and cabinets. All the extra supplies that meant the Landrover was equipped for expeditions to far-off places. The aerofoil car was secured within its small cargo hold.

  Matasire entered the transport through the passenger module's starboard airlock and went directly forward into the drivepit. Sitting himself in the driver's contour seat, he activated the garage compartment's hatch opening mechanism. The command console before him was a complex of glowing LED displays and lots of icons, resembling a complicated thermostat. A person could do everything from this station -- all the transport's systems, all of its equipment.

  Instantaneously, the lower baseboard portion of the grey-cladded wall facing the ATV’s bow and the magnetic flooring holding the ‘Rover slid down as one to form a ramp to solidity; to reveal a slope of dirt and loose gravel. The bus was only in its present tilted state for a moment before Matasire turned on the engine and deactivated the garage portal's magnetic-holding field. After putting the drive unit into forward gear, the Major purposefully activated the acceleration control. Steadily and with practiced expertise, Nicraan maneuvered the Landrover out of its hold and down the hatch ramp. The hatch sealed as the conveyance maneuvered up the incline into the twilight night.

  Capel had opened the upper deck airlock's outer hatch just as Nicraan pulled the transport round from the port side of the saucer. Dara and Moela accompanied Capel down the small rocky ramp to stand expectantly beside the amphibious vehicle.

  Retho left the supply-equipment lockers and joined the ship's cybernetic on a trek to join the others; together they exited the opened airlock and proceeded into the transport beyond. Capel bid farewell to his mate and daughter before he entered the vehicle.

  As the exitportal to the 'Rover sealed, Dara touched her daughter on the shoulder, saying, "Come, Moela, let's get some rest."

  The science officer nodded, stifling a yawn. She took her gaze away from the transport as it pulled out of the base camp, its taillights becoming tiny waning glowers in the dark.

  "You're right, Siress," she replied, moving toward the airlock.

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  The Landrover probed on away from Base Camp throughout the night. Now, by the wan light of an approaching dawn, and inside the Pioneer 4, Dara was awake and listening to the night sounds. She could not sleep, and after several unsuccessful attempts at rest, she went uptop to the main communicator in the command-apse. Still in her pajamas, she now sat in the pilot's acceleration chair with a trimline earpiece donned, searching the whole spectrum of electromagnetic radiation for sounds or signals or voices of life. She heard nothing alien. The primitive inhabitants of this planet did not use the radio. In fact, they did not even know what a radio was, since the planet's population were primitive animals.

  Suddenly she remembered the pylons that were discovered shortly after the saucer had crashed. An alien intelligence had built them, constructed them to fuel a force shield that had surrounded the planet, the same field that had caused the Pioneer Four to crash, to manipulate the weather patterns, and control the very life forms that were left after the civilization that had once reigned supreme
had died out. She wondered if any survivors of that dynasty were behind the bizarre transmission that had caused Capel, Nicraan, Retho, and BeeTee to venture towards its source. She shivered with the possibility.

  Dara found herself thinking rather than concentrating on the board. If there were only beasts on this weird, hostile orb, Dara asked herself, then who could have sent those signals? There were no readings of alien landings or alien approaches, nothing to indicate that the hieroglyphs came from any place other than this planet. Yet, she reminded herself, with all the meteorite activity in the planet's atmosphere, it was difficult to detect any kind of metallic approach from Space.

  The Pioneer 4 lay half buried on fertile ground in the planet's early morning darkness. It was built to fly at hyperplasma speed and was meant to land on a distant planet orbiting the star Mira. Now it was aground under unnamed stars and on unnamed flatlands on a fair but alien world. All around the desertscape was a lush and verdant jungle populated with this world's citizens. The local inhabitants did not fully understand the enormous saucer-shaped ship they had discovered after leaving their hibernations. They were only primitive creatures from various evolutional eras who wouldn't care to know many facts about it or the hundreds of other spaceships that had been forced to land via the now terminated atmospheric force field. The Pioneer Pod Four's folk knew little more about this world and what they had learned was not pleasing.

  Dara returned to watching the communications board and occasionally glanced out the forward viewport. A shadow crossed over the dimly-lit deck and she turned to see Moela exiting the elevator cage dressed in regulation pajamas. Dara smiled at her, and then resumed monitoring the spectrum of radio frequencies, from microwaves through short waves to the kilo-long oscillations of ancient radio and wireless telegraphy. Presently, she snapped off the communicator on the Systems Control Panel and removed her earpiece.

  "Anything?" Moela asked as she passed the circular astrogator and prepared to enter the apse.

  Dara returned the earpiece to its slot on the communication panel and said dourly, "There's nothing on the air between microwaves and ultra-long frequencies. Nothing!"

  Moela was about to say that if Lunon, the ship's engineering and communications expert, were there then something surely would be picked up. But, she decided against it -- the pain over the untimely death of their kin still too real. Instead, she said, "That's reasonable. Why don't you call the 'Rover and see how they are doing?"

  Dara shook her head and frowned. "No. They're already reporting everything they can. We should be asleep. The Main Computer is handling everything as is...” she sighed, then smiled as she touched her daughter's nearest hand. "Go back to bed, dear. There's nothing you can do. There'll be plenty of information from them by dawn’s light, I am sure."

  Moela grinned and nodded her agreement with her siress; the science officer's own concern for their loved ones out on the prairie showed as she reluctantly headed for the elevator. Dara remained in the command-apse and waved at Moela as the circular platform of the lift descended within its tube.

  Letting out another sigh, Dara looked at the board before her once again. As she went to lift the earpiece, she suddenly retracted her reach and relenting to the weariness in her eyes and head, cut the overhead lights and moved aft.

  The Landrover came to rest hidden in a grotto at the end of uneventful exploration. The small depression was pitch black and dripping with moisture. The 'Rover's crew turned down its motor until no sound at all emitted from the vehicle.

  Inside the driver's compartment, Capel and Nicraan were just completing the transport's electronic system shutdown procedure. As they did so, the service lights dimmed, and the interior of the vehicle became nearly as dark as its sheltering cliff recess.

  Capel glanced over at Nicraan and flashed him a quick grin as he stifled a yawn, saying, "We'll take a break here. I'll take the first watch. You and Retho get some rest. There's nothing more we can do until we're all back to top form."

  "Sure. See you in two nodes, then." Nicraan moved out of his seat and toward the safety door now opening behind him.

  Positioning himself comfortably in his chair, Capel glanced at the only operating electronic device in the drivepit, the radar holoscanner and saw that it displayed nothing foreign.

  Retho was preparing the bunk beds in the Slumber Narthex when Nicraan joined him. He was struggling to pull one of the beds from its wall coaming when the handsome pilot entered the compact compartment. As Nicraan moved to help him, Retho turned his back and continued his private battle with the slab. "I can do it myself," he grunted.

  "Easy, Retho," Nicraan responded. "Only trying to help."

  Still wrestling with the handle, Retho said, "I can do it myself. I don't always need you to come rushing to my side."

  Nicraan was surprised at the male's simple tone. The odd node of the night and the prolonged duty stint had set everyone on edge. Nicraan had expected a stinging tone, or, at best, a cold silence from Retho. But the young male's words were missing the mocking tone that he was accustomed to hearing whenever Retho was stressed out. "Sure," Nicraan said gently.

  "You make my independence and maturation difficult sometimes, Nicraan," Retho said as he shyly glanced at the pilot, leaving the wall slab panel.

  The pilot had to agree; it was part of his masculine nature to protect his mate. A trait that at times could be smothering. "I know I do. You could be a little more understanding of why I do what I do, too." He grinned, and added, "Come on, admit it, sometimes you enjoy the attention."

  Rubbing his sore fingers, Retho responded equally with a grin, "Sometimes, maybe...occasionally, when you aren't acting like the hetero hero-of-the-rotate."

  "Hetero?!" Nicraan laughed, finding Retho's idiom loving. “How Un-Enlightened of you.”

  "Perhaps. I like the sound of it ... in an odd way.”

  “Heterogenders were at one time considered to be heroes." Without a word, Nicraan reached for Retho's hand and began to massage his fingers.

  "Perhaps in ancient history," Retho huffed.

  Nicraan continued to hold his hand. "Am I still a hero in your eyes, though?" he asked tenderly.

  Retho felt flustered, confused, embarrassed -- a hundred things at that instant.

  Nicraan smiled at Retho's off-centered moment, holding on to his hand and looking into his eyes. "Am I?"

  "Yes," Retho returned the pilot's direct gaze.

  "Why are you trembling?" Nicraan suddenly asked. He could see that Retho was affected by his closeness and by his touch, and his expression softened. Whereupon, Nicraan reached out and took Retho's other hand.

  "I am not trembling," Retho softly insisted, looking so innocent and helpless. His declaration was very unconvincing. The affection he had for the handsome pilot was alive.

  "Yes, yes you are," Nicraan said. "And, it's because you're tired and need some attention." As he spoke he slowly drew Retho near.

  Retho didn't resist the gentle pull. Now, as he looked at Nicraan, he thought he had never seemed more handsome. Before he could think another thought, Nicraan drew Retho to him and felt his body tremble as he pressed his lips to his.

  It seemed forever; it seemed an eternity to share between them, as Nicraan gently bent Retho's body back. This time Retho didn't resist at all. When they parted, Retho needed a moment to catch his breath. He tried to regain his composure and work up a measure of strength, but he found it difficult to talk.

  Nicraan held Retho in his arms and looked genuinely into his eyes. For a long moment, there was a peaceful kind of emotion between them. Then Retho began to unfasten Nicraan's light-weight uniform and slipped it off him.

  Taking the one lowered bunk, Nicraan guided Retho to lie beside him. Holding him close, Nicraan closed his eyes and cooed into Retho's shell-like ear.

  CHAPTER EIGHT:

  The indicator lights on the scientific analysis/sensor console panel cast an eerie glow through the quiet passenger compartment of the Landro
ver. They softly lit Retho's face as he sat in the cushioned swivel chair, thinking about Nicraan. Deep in thought, he ran his hand along the control panel in front of him. He knew something was churning up within him; but, wasn't certain that he was willing to admit it. And then, could he deny it?

  His attention span was attracted by a flurry of movement outside the viewport above the console. The ports of the 'Rover were rectangular with thick glass. There was one port beside each of the three couples of passenger divans on the port side, and three over the starboard control boards. He now stared curiously out the middle window on his side.

  Then something dark and horrible outside the bus moved toward the spot where the tiny winking lights of the console blinked on and off through the port.

  The Thing that the operations lights disclosed could have come straight from Hell. It moved closer. It pressed against the glass of his viewport, not a retem from the lights and not two retems from Retho's ashen and fiercely defiant face. The Thing's eyes were madness. Its bared fangs were monstrous. It was gray; it was grisly; it was demonic hatred incarnate. It was slavering ferocity and ravenous murder and drooling horror all at once. It glared at the blinking lights. Hideous palpus writhed and scratched at the glass of the viewport.

  Retho had been leaning forward but stumbled backward into the console's seat startled in shock at seeing the Thing. As he tried to compose himself, he heard an interran screech. He made an angry gesture. He pushed the control to close the outside shutters. He pressed hard, as if that would make them close more quickly. The shutter closing above the console caught the monstrous Thing outside -- but not quite soon or strong enough. The Thing fought the shutter that almost captured it. The noise of the struggle was somehow sickening. Eventually, it dragged itself clear, and the shutter plate fitted itself primly back in its proper place.

  Retho made inarticulate noises. Considering the matter calmly, he had reason for horror, but not for fear. There was thick glass in the port. It couldn't be broken. And, anyhow, Retho discovered, keying in the lifeform algorithms and reading the sensor report floating on the holo-viewer, it was only a Hyaenodon. It was the size of a small tiger across its furry legs, to be sure. But its presence was perfectly normal, on this world. If BeeTee hadn't been shut down for the night stint, it wouldn't even have alarmed the crew. Grinning, embarrassed at himself, Retho shook off his tension, and sat up.