by L. V. Lane
“I can’t see a damn thing,” I called over to Jax, who had been keeping pace at my side. As if by cue, lightning flashed, illuminating the ground and casting instant daylight. Bodies and body parts were scattered among the wreckage like a grisly depiction of hell. The jagged edge of the nearest transport rose skyward. The second transport was barely visible to the right and perilously close to the rushing water.
Another rumble of thunder echoed off the canyon walls.
Electrical sparks and an eerie glow flickered from the destroyed transport. It had appeared almost whole from above, but now that we were close, the destruction was apparent.
“This is a weird crash,” Jax said, his flashlight skimming along the ground. “The rain has washed a lot of it away, but this is a graveyard.”
Copious amounts of blood still splattered the craft and the vicinity, and the sturdy outer shell of the transport had split and torn in numerous places. More blood dripped from the cracks and the exposed inner walls. I had witnessed the decimation caused by explosives, missiles, and weapons of every kind. I had also seen my share of transport crashes for a multitude of reasons. “More like explosive damage,” I said, wondering if the PB fire I had presumed friendly was not so friendly, after all.
“The movement came from the furthest transport.” Jax directed his flashlight out into the gloom.
“Over here!”
At the call, our flashlights swung to the right. Shapes that might have been rocks or debris, morphed into the survivors.
We met as we broached the shadow of the first transport, bringing the second craft into view. It leaned heavily to one side, making the standard exit impossible. Someone had smashed out the windshield, but that wasn’t a whole lot better.
One of the survivors edged to the front. “I’m the navigator from T-14.” He gestured over his shoulder. He was nursing an injured arm in a rough sling. One side of his face glistened with semi-congealed blood.
“Status?”
“Our communications aren’t working. I wasn’t alone in cheering when I realized your transport was coming down. We’ve lost three people due to injuries. The rest are trapped inside. We managed to unload a few during the break in the weather.” He cast a glance skyward at the worsening gloom. “Looks like it’s closing in again.”
“I’ll organize the team.” Jax took off.
Someone slung up a couple of portable lights to cast a weak glow over the area.
“I’m guessing the weather drove you off target?” I asked the navigator.
“No, I mean, the weather was horrific, but we were close to landing when the T-50 hit.”
A roll of thunder shattered the peace, cutting the conversation off until it petered out.
“They impacted with us at about three hundred out,” the navigator continued. “They were coming in too fast for us to evade. They clipped the back end of our transport before hitting the chasm wall. We leveled out, but we had lost a thruster and hit the ground hard. It’s a miracle we missed the river and the T-50. There’s not a lot of space down here.”
“You did well,” I said.
“Thanks, our pilot deserves all respect. Something was wrong with the T-50, they came at us like they were dead in the air. They left ahead of us. I’ve no idea how they came to be behind. I’d have to say a technical failure. The weather doesn’t make a transport drop like a rock.”
“We’ve lost a lot of good people,” I said.
“You’ve lost a lot of good military people,” the man replied. “I watched them loading, since we were waiting for our slot. The T-50 was all military.”
I felt a bite of unease. There was no ‘preferable’ person to lose, but the military personnel were essential to our success. Especially now that the ship was gone. Most would have basic medical training, again a useful skill to see us through the subsequent year.
“We lost other transports. Did you notice anything else?”
“No, nothing.”
“Alright, load anyone who can’t help back to the other transport. We have a few medical personnel here, but there are more who can help up top.”
Acknowledging the order, the navigator moved off.
More warm rain began to fall, and I squinted up at the sky before setting off at a jog toward where Jax and a team were working on a hoist.
The distance was no more than fifty paces, but by the time I reached him, the rain had increased to a deluge of epic proportions.
I couldn’t hear anything over the thrashing rain.
I couldn’t see more than a blur of shapes through the water streaming down my face.
And I had no idea how we would get the trapped colonists out of the transport during such appalling conditions.
Then the wind suddenly picked up and everyone crouched. Lightning flashed overhead, sparking a tree on the far riverbank to flames that were instantly extinguished. Deep, resonating rumbles of thunder ripped through the cacophony of the rain as the sky flashed between gray and black and purple.
As quickly as it came, the wind dropped, the clouds lifted to gray, and then white and then cleared to bathe the area in sunlight.
I stood, ears ringing. Blinking water from my eyes, I swiped a hand over my dripping head. My water sodden clothes plastered to my skin. I might as well have thrown myself into that churning river.
Jax was facing my way. He carefully flipped the visor on his shell armor open and grinned. “Now, you understand the weather.” He turned away still grinning and began shouting instructions to the nearby team.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Definition: Predictive deception, Proven lie or deception.
Eva
THE DRUGS RELEASED me from their grip in iterations, and it had taken seventy standard hours—three full Serenity days—before I regained possession of my wits. It constituted a blank period during which I remained only partially cognizant of where I was and what was going on around me. My doctor, Shenson Sull, was a young woman whose expertise rested in the field of psychology: a pertinent skill for any new colony, and particularly for me in recovering my mental equilibrium.
My temporary home was a transport that I shared with several other colonists who had suffered injuries during their fraught arrival. Two remained unconscious, a forced sedation due to the severe nature of their injuries coupled with the lack of restoration pods—the handheld medical scanners offered only limited healing functionality. The other patients had been released over the period, deemed fit enough to return to their duties, whatever those mysterious duties were.
I had seen Eric briefly, but no one else, and remembered little of what had transpired prior to my arrival in this transport. No one else had been to visit. But today, I’d been told I would be allowed to leave. Riley stood conversing with the doctor just beyond the range of my hearing. I presumed she had been busy, that everyone was busy, although it still left a sense of exclusion. A necessary exclusion, my doctor had explained, while my mind healed after Brent sedated me.
The doctor offered me an encouraging smile before leaving me with Riley.
“How are you feeling?” Riley asked. She reached to take my hand as I stood. I was still a little shaky on my feet. “I did come to see you a couple of times, but you were sleeping at the time. The psychologist mentioned that you rested often.”
I got the impression she intended to say more, but while my mental recovery remained unknown, I anticipated further evasiveness.
“I’m well enough.” My reply came out sharper than I intended. The psychologist would be seeing me twice a day, every day for an indeterminate time. After stressful predictions, I’d often been allocated to a psychologist, so this was not unexpected, but I resented the intrusion all the same.
Riley only smiled at my terse response, watching attentively as I made slow but steady steps toward the door. While my mental health was my primary concern, my body had also suffered the effects of the drug. My legs shook, and the effort required for such a simple task was sobering. I had
always treated my body as a transport mechanism for my mind. So long as it functioned enough to move me about and could provide a physical supplement to my mental needs, I gave it little attention. I was multi-generation Aterran; I had no notion my body or mind might fail me other than through old age. Further, as a predictive, I had skipped the mandatory terms of enlistment in the military. I had never known fatigue nor injury and was struggling with the new experience. This physical lethargy also brought into question my value to the colony if I was no longer able to predict.
Without prediction, I would be the lowest colonist here.
“Your accommodation isn’t what you’re used to,” Riley said as if seeking to distract me from my mounting concerns.
My mind caught up with the comment… What did she mean? Had they written me off? Was I now relegated to the most basic grunt class?
“My pod?”
“Gone.” Riley’s eyes skittered away in a manner too avoidant for me to dismiss. The little warning bells were ringing.
What if I can’t predict? The fear became real and tangible. I tried not to stretch those weak cognitive muscles, but they still twitched in desperate anticipation.
I’d been kept isolated, not wanting to test my predictive capability too soon and perhaps break it irrevocably. Wary of this possibility, I’d practiced constant and rigorous meditation, keeping my mind blank and at peace as best as I could. It had not been easy. I understood I was on Serenity, and that terrifying events must have unfolded. My prediction prior to sedation was lost, and whatever my mind had fought so hard to connect on that fateful day in the research center was gone—a loss I grieved.
“Are you ready for this, Eva?” Riley paused at the transport door, and my hand clutched hers fiercely.
“What if I can’t predict?” The words blurt out. I don’t blurt words. I had not spoken without consideration since I was a child. Am I in regression? All my intelligence was related to my ability to tap into my subconscious mind. Everything I did and said was instinctive—I didn’t know how to exist any other way. Was my life about to become a shadowy reflection?
Riley’s face softened. “Try not to worry about it, Eva. The doctor said you just need time to heal.”
I focused on her words, her body language, her tone, her face, and a thousand other nuances. I frowned; there was no notion she might be lying to me. Deceit was the easiest emotion to spot; I had mastered it before I understood what lying meant. There was no strong kick back, the mental flinch was absent. She didn’t lie.
Or perhaps I couldn’t detect it anymore?
A crashing wave of panic hit me, and suddenly, I didn’t want to go outside, nor did I desire the slow death of accepting my predictive capability was gone.
“It’s okay Eva. Really, it is.” Riley’s soft tone soothed me. Had they sent Riley as a ploy to keep me docile until they could figure out what to do with me now that I was useless?
Every muscle in my body stiffened. “No!” I caught Riley’s hand before it could touch the release button.
Riley sighed. “That fool should be shot for what he did. To put you through this… I’m surprised the Commander hasn’t already administered the sentence. He doesn’t suffer fools and Brent was culpable.”
That almost made me smile. I remembered Brent entering the research center, his worried face looking down at me, and very little else. “He didn’t mean to sedate me. Shenson said the scanner was faulty.”
“I didn’t hear that?” Riley’s brows pulled together, and something in her expression said this news worried her.
Whatever had happened to the scanner was the least of my concerns when the door that loomed before us consumed my thoughts. Stepping outside represented many things. It felt climatic in a way of failure or doom. “I’m nothing if I cannot predict.”
“Yes, it’s possible you will become ordinary,” Riley said. “Although, this new humble persona is endearing.”
Predictive deception: she was lying. I was so certain of it that, for a stretched moment, I did not breathe. “You’re lying,” I said accusingly.
Riley smiled. “Of course I lied. You were becoming overwrought. Eric was desperate to be the one collecting you. He had an extensive and elaborate story worked out and was much enamored with the idea that you might not recognize it as a lie. He’s been taking bets with Marik on how many days he could keep the deception up. Landon got wind of what they were doing and allocated them to appalling tasks as punishment. No, an ordinary life is not for you. I have every expectation that your predictive capability will reveal its dread magnificence soon enough.”
That was very Eric. On any other day, I would have been furious he was plotting, but today, I found comfort in his willingness to abuse the situation for his personal entertainment because it meant I was going to be alright. I had skittered away from my fear over the last three planetary cycles. My lost knowledge, the mindless stupor that had engulfed me during the hellish journey to the planet, and the rushing beast that chased them on the ship. These scenes had plagued me between the enforced stretches of meditation, but beneath this was the buried notion that I might never again predict.
“Are you ready now?” Riley asked, her pale gray eyes searching mine. A minority of Technologists had such eyes, and among Aterrans, no one. Once upon a time, those eyes had appeared cold, but I thought them very beautiful today.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” I was not ordinarily a needy person. We had yet to step outside, but this was an unexpectedly important consideration. Tonight, the thought of being alone was crushing.
“Yes, of course.” There was no hesitation in her response, and that, too, comforted me that all was normal.
“Thank you,” I said softly before reaching to press the door release.
It opened to reveal a scene I had caught only in snatches. It appeared worse than my memories of the landing and when Landon had laid me on the muddy ground covered in blood. A sprawling encampment stretched out before us. The slight elevation of the transport ramp allowed a glimpse above the tents… and there were many tents. My foggy mind tried to recall my exit from the ship, the cyclical alarm, and the rush of footsteps along corridors. I frowned as we walked out slowly together, my fingers still clutching Riley. “Did we abandon the ship?”
“We did,” Riley confirmed.
That tone, so desolate, together with my jumbled impressions of those final moments as we fled, created a picture.
“Gone.” A statement. At times, my mind pieced together what had previously happened. I called them retrospective predictions and they arrived with the same conviction as those looking ahead. In this case, though, I thought the pieces had been clear enough, and no predictive skill was required.
“Yes, it has gone,” Riley acknowledged. “What happened on the ship forced our hand. As terrible as the circumstance, it brought us down here when we might have spent many cycles procrastinating the decision, or even sought out an alternative home. We are both ahead and behind. We gained one thing and lost a dozen others. There is very little technology. We are exposed to extreme weather with only very basic shelter. It is many days before the next ship is due to arrive… When I look at the camp, I see chaos.”
I had heard the storms from within the transport, the rush of water and wind pounding at it with a giant malevolent fist. I could not imagine how those in the tents might have fared through it.
Yet they had, and the people moving with purpose and industry before me did not appear beaten down by the force of nature that wracked the planet’s surface. “I don’t see that,” I said. “Something terrible happened on the ship. I don’t need you to tell me that, and I don’t need to be predictive to know that nefarious reason might be behind it. I profess no more than basic technological knowledge, but ships do not simply break apart. I’ve never heard of a colony being forced to abandon one. I was so worried about what was waiting outside the transport, but now I’m here, I can see hope.”
“That was comforting
ly eloquent. If the one person who sees what is wrong with the world can see hope, then perhaps there is hope.” Riley smiled.
My words were not a prediction though, more of a gut feeling, and an ordinary sensation any ordinary person might have. I didn’t have the evidence I could still predict the future. Some parts of my predictive ability remained, but what about the important one? What about future prediction?
For now, that would remain unknown.
My hand trembled within Riley’s, and despite my admission that the camp gave me hope, it also revealed a long, tremulous road.
We made slow progress through the encampment that stretched out into the tree filled lands. So many people tramping about in a confined area, coupled with the diabolical storms, had reduced the site to a bog. Some headway had been made in creating wooden pathways, but everywhere else was mud.
“Do we have enough shelter and food?” The exit from the ship was hazy, but I had a strong impression it had been rushed.
“No, not really,” Riley said. “And it is difficult to move anything or anyone through the mud. When it rains, we have no choice but to stop. With limited rations, our immediate concern is establishing a source of food. Foundations for future structures have gone down in a number of locations, but we lack basic tools and equipment, and the progress has been slow.”
Riley stopped before a tent, indicating I should enter. “I realize it’s basic.” The all-environment tent was an impressive feat of engineering, and one I was familiar with, although I’d never had cause to experience personally. Still, it was a pale reflection of my usual grandiose accommodation.
“It’s fine.” The tent seemed like a minor adjustment compared to my fears about my predictive capability.
The look Riley gave me said she did not share my opinion.
“It’s fine,” I reiterated, smiling. “I’m fine.”
Riley’s sharp intake of breath reinforced my impression of deception, but I was still too mentally overwhelmed to address it. Instead, I pushed inside the tent.
