The Battle for Eden

by Mark E Burgess

  In a very short time their destination came into view. Up ahead there was a small gap in the rock fence that hemmed in this section of land. It was probably less than ten meters across, but the herd seemed to know where they were supposed to go, and they obediently funneled through and into the grassland on the other side. Sarah stopped the vehicle at the wall, and they watched as the animals continued some distance into their new grazing grounds, eventually slowing and coming to a halt. There they stood, blowing hard, until one or two reached down to nibble the fresh forage underfoot. In a few minutes the entire herd had joined in, and it was as if the humans had never interrupted their meal.

  “Looks like they’re settling in just fine,” Sarah told him. “We’d best be getting back.”

  “Thank you for bringing me along,” Simon said with a smile. “This was fascinating, and it’s nice to get out of the house once in awhile.”

  “No problem,” Sarah replied, her eyes glancing his way before returning to the view ahead. “It’s great to have someone new to share the sights with. I’m the only one in my family who seems to enjoy coming out here just for the fun of it. My parents are always busy with work and such, and the boys do guy stuff, playing games on the vidscreen, chatting with girls from town, looking for summer jobs, anything but this. I guess maybe they associate the outdoors with chores, I don’t know.”

  “Your parents work?” Simon asked, puzzled. “I thought your dad was retired.”

  “Retired from the military, yes,” Sarah said. “He still works from home, mostly on the CompuNet. Mom helps him run the business.”

  “Which is?” Simon asked.

  “Security consulting for businesses, and for individuals also. Much of it in recent years has been advising people on how to prepare and protect themselves in the event of a Knacker invasion.”

  “Ah, ha...,” Simon said as things began to come into focus. No wonder Tyrus was so prepared for the Crabs. Not only did he have a military background, but also he had made a living thinking of ways to fend them off. Simon probably couldn’t have found a better household to hole up with on all of Eden. His getting shot down and crash-landing was looking more and more like a stroke of luck.

  They had covered about half the distance to the house when they both heard a noise over the hum of the floater engine. It sounded like the faint rumble of an aircraft, and it was getting louder. Frantically they looked out the windows and up. In the sky to the southwest a small shape was rapidly approaching. It was the ovoid form of a Knacker vessel. Sarah instantly slewed their vehicle to the left, slamming Simon against the right side door. “Sorry,” she said as she gunned the floater toward one of the scrub trees dotted sparsely across the landscape. Within seconds they had reached its cover, and she braked the vehicle to a stop beneath the spreading limbs.

  Breathlessly they waited, and the aircraft approached their position, passing almost directly overhead. It was flying at relatively low altitude, its shape and markings clearly visible from the ground. Either it had not spotted them or it had other business, for the ship never slowed, and in moments it had dwindled to a speck headed toward the northeast.

  They exhaled as the danger passed, and looked at each other in silence. Sarah finally said, “Do you think they saw us?”

  Simon pursed his lips and shrugged. “No way to tell. In any event, the Crabs already know we’re here, so probably no harm done.” He gestured toward home, and Sarah nodded as she eased the vehicle on its way once more.

  * * * *

  Despite the sighting of the alien craft, things remained quiet on the homestead. Part of each day was usually spent training for various combat contingencies, or in planning new ambushes for the Crabs. When not thusly occupied, the members of the household caught up on day-to-day chores, or pursued whatever interests they had.

  Tyrus was tinkering with some of the devices they had confiscated from the dead Crabs, hoping to make sense of them. He also was working to modify the captured energy guns for easier use by humans. The heavy firing triggers of the weapons, designed to be squeezed by the Knackers’ tripartite claws, were recessed into the guns’ frames and difficult to manipulate. Tyrus attached a metal extension to each trigger, which protruded out of the body of the gun enough to grab and pull it, similar to the standard trigger mechanism on most human guns.

  One of the more important pastimes for the humans was feeding and caring for the little animals that they carried in pouches around their necks. Katherine’s veterinary background had made her the logical choice for overseeing the Darters’ care. The family had obtained their original animals when a female carrying young had fallen from an Ironwood tree. Sarah had found the dying animal and had seen movement in its belly pouch. The four babies inside had been very tiny, and only Katherine’s attentive nursing had allowed them to survive. Once the babies had grown, putting a receptive female in a live trap had quickly netted two eager male suitors from the woods, and they had been able to breed additional offspring. Now every family member had a Darter.

  Simon had, to his surprise, developed an attachment for the volatile little creatures. It had begun after the last Knacker attack, when he had peeled off his gas mask and a thought had struck him. When he had mentioned it to Sarah, she had checked her Darter, and sure enough, the little animal was totally paralyzed within its pouch.

  Every Darter outside of the house that day, and some of those indoors, had been affected by the paralytic agent. For most of the next twenty-six hours (the length of Eden’s day) the animals were unable to fend for themselves, and had to receive food and water via tube feedings. Simon had volunteered to help Sarah and Katherine with this task. Every eight hours or so, they had lined up all the stricken Darters, and Simon held each animal while Katherine carefully slid a rubber tube down its throat. Then she syringed an appropriate amount of gruel into the stomach. The food mix was essentially pureed invertebrate creatures and warm water, a slop that looked as nauseating as it sounded. Come to think of it, the stuff didn’t smell too good either. Sarah mixed up the potion in measured syringes, and handed them to Katherine one by one as she moved down the line of motionless animals.

  The supportive care had kept their diminutive patients alive, and a day later they were regaining voluntary movement, and soon after, their coordination. They seemingly had no lingering effects from their misfortune.

  The juvenile that Simon carried was still only partially tame, and he met with Katherine in the breeder room regularly so that she could assess its health. This week he sought her out in the kitchen where she was preparing lunch for herself and Jessie. She looked up inquiringly as he stood watching, and he grinned and jiggled his pouch. With a smile and a nod she said, “I’ll see you in the animal room once I get Jess fed. Give me ten minutes or so.” Jessie grinned and waved from the dining table as he sauntered back out of the room.

  Soon after, Katherine came into the animal ward where Simon lounged waiting. Clearing her throat, she took a seat at a small desk cluttered with papers and several instruments, including a digital scale. Much of the small room was taken up with storage cabinets, plus a refrigerated cold bin filled with perishable medications. One corner was dominated by a large floor-to-ceiling aviary-style cage, wherein lived a mated pair of Darters and their offspring. Within the habitat several nest boxes hung suspended by rope from the ceiling. Pans of food and water lay on the floor below. Gnarled branches led from the floor to the nests, allowing the nimble animals to run up and down in their environment for exercise, while having a safe retreat high above ground. When someone first entered the room, the small creatures would live up to their name, shooting skyward in a blur to vanish into the nests. After a few minutes, if things remained quiet, they would peek out cautiously, their small faces corkscrewing around to check their surroundings before they ventured slowly back out. Eventually they would be chirping and squawking as they cavorted around their enclosure, leaping and climbing with sure-footed grace.

  Along the wall op
posite the habitat ran a long countertop. It was covered with terrariums for raising Darter food items, mostly worm-like creatures called Gusanos. These insectoid natives of Eden were fed a fortified diet to enhance their nutritional content. Thus modified, they provided a balanced diet for the Darters, without the need for offering the diversity of prey consumed in the wild.

  Katherine looked up from the growth chart in her hands, and motioned Simon over. With an inward sigh he approached. She had acted so detached with him lately, so clinical, that he wondered if he had done something to anger her. He was afraid to ask, for fear that he was imagining it and she’d think him a complete fool. When he stopped obediently in front of the desk, she asked, “How’s your little guy been doing? Is he eating decently?”

  “I’d say so,” Simon replied with a grin. “He almost takes my finger off every time I hand him a grub.”

  “Let’s get a weight on him and see where he’s at,” she said.

  Reaching to his neck, Simon untied the string holding the cloth bag, and handed it to her. She took the pouch, animal inside, and plopped it on the scale at her desk. The empty bag had been weighed previously; all that was needed was the combined weight of pouch and occupant, and simple subtraction gave them the animal’s current size. All without the stress of removing the shy creature from its hiding place. It would also have been nearly impossible, without anesthesia, to keep an unconfined Darter on a scale long enough for its weight to register.

  “Sixty-five grams,” Katherine reported with a smile. “He’s getting big.”

  “Positively monstrous,” Simon replied sarcastically. “I’ve got to admit, they’re pretty cute little guys, especially once they get past the screeching phase.”

  “Well, he’s getting used to you,” she told him. “At first he probably thought you were going to eat him.”

  “At first I was tempted to, just to shut him up,” Simon retorted. He laughed at her offended expression, and she eventually gave up trying to look angry and chuckled as well.

  “They can get on your nerves occasionally,” she admitted. “During breeding season I could hardly stand to be in here. With new babies in the nest, they wouldn’t stop screaming at me until I left, no matter how long I sat here.”

  Simon said, “I read that they normally dwell in small holes in trees. Is that why cloth pouches work so well for them?”

  “Partly,” she answered, nodding. “Maybe also because they spend their early lives in momma’s belly pouch. Soft bags probably remind them of security and safety. Okay, let’s see your boy.”

  So saying, she eased the bag open to peek at the furry bundle inside. It began to screech, then quickly quieted when it saw Simon. He held out a squirming Gusano, and the Darter eagerly snatched it with tiny sharp teeth. Using its forepaws like miniature hands, it held the succulent treat and nibbled it like a human eating an ear of corn. Within seconds the tidbit was devoured, and the Darter came partially out of the bag, looking for more. Simon put out his hand, palm up, and the little animal jumped onto it without hesitation.

  “Wow, you’ve really made progress with him,” Katherine marveled. “He’s a lot tamer than last time.”

  “He’s my little buddy,” Simon murmured, using one finger to stroke the creature’s velvety spine. Its eyes partly closed as it held perfectly still, obviously enjoying the attention. Katherine eyed the two of them speculatively, a trace of a smile playing on her lips. She hadn’t expected the pilot to be this empathetic with his assigned pet. He continued to be full of surprises.

  Simon eventually looked over at her and asked, “I’m curious, how did you decide to be a vet?”

  Caught off guard, Katherine smiled shyly and shrugged. “I just liked animals, you know, I loved going to the zoo as a child, loved going camping with my parents, watching vids about wildlife, all that stuff. When I got older I just followed my heart and eventually became an animal doctor.”

  “I’ll bet you were good at it,” Simon said.

  “Yes...I guess I was,” she answered. A cloud passed over her face then, and he saw that the conversation had taken her somewhere she didn’t enjoy going.

  “Kate,” he began hesitantly, “I...if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m willing to listen. With no judgment, comments, or anything, just listening. People tell me I’m good at that, for a military guy, anyway,” he finished lamely.

  The guarded look she wore vanished for a split second, replaced by something—affection, longing, he wasn’t sure. Then the shield slammed down again, and she turned away, saying, “I’m all right, Simon. Really. We should probably go see if the others need us. It’s almost time for our daily meeting.”

  It was clear the conversation was over, at least for now. He nodded silently, and rose to follow her out of the room.

  * * * *

  “Eureka!” Tyrus shouted a few minutes later as he walked into the greatroom. In his raised hand he clutched a small rectangular device. The remainder of the clan was already assembled for their scheduled strategy session. Everyone looked up as one, and Jessie piped up first, “What is it, Uncle?”

  Tyrus looked down at her and smiled. “It’s an alien translator, my girl. It’s a wonderful gift, that’s what it is. We can understand the Crabs’ language with this little beauty!” He was so excited that he was practically dancing, and the others looked at each other with widening grins. Everyone had heard the pop-and-click vocalizations of the aliens, but to be able to actually understand what they were saying! No one had even contemplated such an eventuality. It seemed almost too good to be true.

  Simon cocked his head appraisingly at the gadget, and asked, “Is it likely to be of use in combat? I can’t imagine getting close enough to overhear Crab conversations during a battle. Unless you plan on using it to interrogate a captured prisoner; that could be interesting.”

  “I plan to spy on their communications,” Tyrus answered him without hesitation. “Now observe and learn, oh young apprentice.” With that he turned on the airwave monitor, basically a more sophisticated and versatile version of the radios employed by humans throughout their history. Deftly tuning it to the frequency they had most often found Knackers using, he listened for transmissions, adjusting the sensitivity and range settings on the tuner. Before long the “put-put” sound of soft pops, interspersed with high pitched clicks, came through the speakers. Everyone by now knew they were listening to the enemy’s speech.

  Tyrus then flicked a switch on the alien device, and a blue light lit on the box. “Power’s on,” he commented, and then he set the device near the airwave receiver. As the Knackers’ vocalizations continued to emanate from the radio, the box suddenly began to spit words, recognizable words, out its own speaker.

  “Attack...Soft-Shell...weak city defenses...need shuttles and weapons at city Teotetoplon...move four quadrills Soft-Shells...coordinates 509 155...send to harvest ship...rendezvous in 232 segmons....”

  The communications rambled on, bits of recognizable words combined with gibberish. The family looked at Tyrus with questioning expressions, and he shuffled his feet and said, “Ah, yes, the translator doesn’t always have human equivalents available for species-specific points of reference. For instance, I believe that quadrills are a gross number value used by the aliens, somewhat like our ‘ton’ or ‘bushel,’ and they haven’t provided the translator with an equivalent in our numerical system. Their global coordinates likewise might not easily translate. Segmons are a time unit, from what I can determine. City names such as Teo-whatever-they-said are again species dependent, and the machine doesn’t know the human equivalent name. It could be any human city they were discussing.”

  “A ‘harvest ship’...they must mean a lander,” Amanda mused, looking unhappy.

  “Yes, that would follow,” Simon agreed somberly.

  “What is a soft-shell?” Jessie asked, looking around at the adults for an answer.

  “I’m afraid that’s us, I mean humans,” her eldest cousin Keith repl
ied, looking to Tyrus for confirmation.

  “Yes, you are unfortunately correct,” his father agreed. “That apparently is the Knacker name for humans, or at least how it translates into our language. Sort of makes sense, I suppose.”

  “It’s creepy hearing those things discussing their plans for us,” TJ said. “There’s not much point in listening to their broadcasts; we’ll get more from watching whatever human updates we can find.”

  “Perhaps,” Tyrus answered. “But it would be very useful to know if the aliens are coming for us, now wouldn’t it? Or what they might be planning when they do arrive?” His son nodded reluctantly, and Tyrus continued, “To that end, I plan on monitoring their broadcasts as often as I can, especially those originating within forty kilometers or so. We may get lucky and learn a thing or two. Any advantage we can gain may be critical. Well, that’s it for today’s meeting,” he concluded. “I’m going to work with this for a few more hours.” With that, the group separated, most of the family filing out of the room in silence as people digested this new development.

  * * * *

  A few days later, Simon was back in the greatroom, this time reclined in a plush easy chair. It was evening, just after dinner, and he was busy with the tasks of relaxing and digesting. The room was spacious but cozy, replete with everything from a traditional fireplace at one end, to the large vidscreen that was used for entertainment in happier times, to an old-style billiards table. Lighting was recessed, and controlled with a dimmer that could set whatever mood the user wished. Currently he had it adjusted comfortably low.