by CJ Birch
Vasa mentioned something about Ash starting to remember things. I’m worried this might have something to do with it. What if her mind knot isn’t what’s been causing those memory gaps? When she attacked Hartley she couldn’t remember a thing afterward, but this is the first time she’s remembered things differently. “Why would I get Vasa to watch your tracking program? Yakovich and her team were responsible for your security. It was two of her people who found you. Vasa was off duty. That’s how he was able to set it up.”
She shakes her head, confused. “You interacted with him. I saw you.”
“Ash, I promise you, Vasa was no where near that compartment when we found you.”
She closes her eyes and tilts her head to the ceiling, at a loss for a moment. I imagine she’s playing it all back in her mind. What she thinks she remembers versus reality. I’ll have the doctor do a full checkup to make sure there isn’t anything else in her system.
Ash runs the tips of trembling fingers over her lips. Her breathing picks up and she huffs out a long breath. “Wow. So how do I know what’s real and what’s not?” The way she looks at me, I know what she’s asking.
“You didn’t imagine that.”
She nods, but it seems more of an effort to keep moving than an affirmation. If she stays still her mind will race places it shouldn’t. “Okay. Okay. So now what?”
I move to take a seat next to her on the bed. “If you don’t feel up to resuming your post, I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
“No, Captain. I want to go back to work. I need to.”
“Good. Report for duty tomorrow. We’ll be landing in two days.” I stand and move to the door. Before I go, I say, “I want you to stay away from this investigation. Security section is taking care of it.”
I get a crisp nod.
Chapter Twelve
The brilliance of the sun obscures our first view as the cargo doors open. It’s so blinding, my team—standing at the entrance in enviro-suits—avert their eyes. Then everything comes into sharp focus as our eyes adjust for the first time to the brightness of a sun.
What I don’t expect when I step into the surrounding green, is the heat. The warmth blasts through my clear visor, bathing my face. I close my eyes and tilt my head up. I feel a cozy contentment I’ve never felt before.
“What a fucking hell hole.” Sarka growls through the comm unit in our suits.
My contentment shatters. I debated with myself for a long time before deciding to bring him. Ash is in charge now, and I don’t want her to have to deal with him while I’m gone. Plus, as much as I hate to admit it, his knowledge could be helpful. He’s the only person on this ship who’s ever been on a planet before. He may have his uses.
“Fucking hell.” Sarka removes his foot from a giant pile of something that can only be excrement. A deep green bird the size of German Shepard parts the grass in front of him. It gives an angry honk before waddling off into the brush.
We’ve landed the ship on the edge of marshland. The smell is thick. It sticks to the inside of my throat. Waist high grass grows from the marsh. It looks like tiny tubes sticking out of the mud. Sure enough, when I break one off, they’re hollow inside.
I’ve never seen so much green in one place. Even the grass fields on Delta were never this vast. Surrounding us, far off in the distance, are trees in one direction and a mountain range in another. They arc in a semicircle around the horizon.
Even though the ground feels soft, Hartley says we’ve landed on a rock shield that has similar properties to granite. He promises we won’t sink.
Ash sidles up next to me, gripping my elbow to get my attention before letting her hand fall. “I still don’t like it. You should be staying on the ship, not running off into,” she waves her hand about, indicating the wilderness around us, “this.”
I sigh, frustrated. We’ve had this argument at least three times since yesterday, and I’ve dug my heals in with the strength of one of Hartley’s engine bots. With each round, Ash gets more and more excited. “You’ve made that clear. But seeing as how I’m the captain, I get to make the decisions.” I turn to her so I can see that she gets it, gets how much this means to me. “I wouldn’t pass up this chance to explore if I had to sacrifice several limbs for the adventure, so lay off. I’ll be fine.”
Even now, as I watch her scan the horizon, there’s a fervor behind those green eyes. It’s so intense, it scares me. I know that look well because I’ve seen it growing stronger in my eyes every morning. The excitement of getting here has been almost unbearable.
I hear several shouts and turn to see Sarka removing his helmet. Christ. He gasps for a few breaths then inhales so deep his nostrils flair. He grins, stretching his face almost flat. It’s the first time he’s appeared at all pleased since I informed him he’d be coming on the team to explore the planet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“The air’s fine. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Captain.” The emphasis on my rank grates me and I resist the urge to smack him. Before I can stop anyone, the rest of the crew take their helmets off. When no one convulses on the ground from lack of oxygen, I realize it’s futile to protest and unlock my own.
The air is sweet, like perfume, but more subtle. There’s a faint floral scent and something I can’t describe, but makes me want to fill my lungs to bursting.
“The air appears to be breathable, Captain.” Mani pipes up from the other side of our group. He was my first choice for this expedition. His expertise in botany and affable nature make him a perfect fit for exploring a new world. “But I can’t predict what long-term effects breathing it will have on us.” His chubby baby cheeks flush red, and his curls have wilted somewhat in the humidity.
Sarka slaps him hard on the back. “It’ll put some much needed hair on your chest.”
Mani frowns, peering down at his chest. “I’m not sure how that works.” He picks at the front of his enviro-suit. “How is it going to do that?”
“It’s an expression, Mani.” I remember when I was a kid, anytime I didn’t want to do something, Sarka would say it put hair on my chest. I wasn’t sure why that was a good thing.
I turn back to the Persephone and take one good look at her. From this angle she looks like an old galleon, with her furled sails standing tall as masts. Both the aft and bow curve up to meet the top. She’s majestic, gleaming in the sunlight.
“Take good care of her,” I tell Ash.
She gives her a few soft pats. “She’ll be better by the time you return. I have big plans for her.”
A few crew members groan.
We set off toward the forest, south of the Persephone. Ash and the crew that have come to see us off wave from the edge of the cargo ramp. There’s a light cheer from them as we disappear into the tall marsh grass.
As we hike through the sucking sludge, our boots already coated in a yellowish mud, we make a strange crew. Yakovich is at the front, tall and blond, with her sonic gun at the ready. Behind her is Foer, lumbering like a giant bear brushing the tall stalks aside. After him is Mani wading through the mud with high steps. Every few seconds he takes a moment to check the surroundings and make a note in his tablet. At the back of the pack is Sarka, then me. Sarka’s shouldered his pack tight, all loose items secured. He marches behind Mani with measured strides, keeping his head down.
The heat is excruciating. Within minutes, I’ve stripped off the top of my enviro-suit. I let it hang, choosing to hike through the marsh in my tank top. Without our helmets providing a sealed environment, we’re exposed to the elements. The humidity especially is wreaking havoc on my team. Mani’s tank top is dark with sweat. Foer’s is hanging from his utility belt.
The only one not affected is Sarka. His shirt and skin are dry and his hair hasn’t moved since we left.
It’s a new experience being in an environment that I can’t control. I’m trying to be a good sport about it, but within the first hour the skin on my shoulders prickle and my feet h
urt.
Sarka steps next to me and points to my face. “You’re getting burned.”
I touch my nose and find it tender. “How?” I look around, not knowing what, in this flat land, could be causing it.
He laughs and points to the sky. “The sun. Your skin is sensitive. Without some sort of protective coat, it’ll get worse”
“Is it dangerous?” A wave of panic hits me. I’ve taken precautions, but this isn’t one.
“Very.”
“Are you joking?” I squint up at the sun. It’s right overhead, small and bright, but the heat radiating off it leaves me to wonder if he’s telling the truth.
“Not at all. Back on Earth, people used to die from skin cancer.” At the word cancer, I stop dead.
“How much exposure before that happens?”
He shrugs. “It depends. But one bad burn can increase your chances.”
I stop and search for anything to use for cover. We’re still far from tree cover and there isn’t anything else that we’ve brought to use. “If we’d kept our helmets on—”
“Relax. You’re not going to drop dead.” He smiles. It’s an evil sort of smile. Then he bends down and scoops up a handful of mud from the marsh bed and begins to rub it on his nose. I can only imagine what my expression must be because he roars with laughter.
“You are joking.”
He shakes his head. “Cheap and instant sunscreen.”
Great. Just great. I tell everyone to stop and start applying the mud to their skin. The whole time I’m rubbing the gritty sludge over my arms, neck, and face, I’m watching Sarka do the same. I can’t be sure he’s not screwing with me, but I’d rather us look like idiots then risk my crew’s health. I contact the ship to let them know to be careful when working outside.
Once we’re coated in the fowl smelling mud, we continue through the marsh toward the tall trees ahead. A large hawkish bird calls from above. It’s two, maybe three times the size of the bird we saw earlier. Its wings extend, feathers fluttering, as it soars through the sky. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. I stop and stare, tracking its progress, entranced by the freedom it must feel to be part of the sky like that. It makes me long for things that will never be, things I can only read and dream about. I continue to stare at the giant bird when I realize it’s getting awfully close to us.
“Uh, Captain?” Foer nudges me on the shoulder. “We should move.” The bird begins diving toward us at tremendous speed.
I lunge, splashing into a pool of stagnant water as the bird stretches its claws, seeking skin. One talon rakes my back, missing its grip by inches. I push myself back up. We all bolt for the tree line, which could still be a few kilometers off or could be a few meters. It’s hard to tell with the haze in the sky. For the amount of time we’ve been traveling, we’re not getting any nearer. I throw everything I have into staying upright, which is difficult, as the marsh sucks at our feet.
Mani pants next to me, arms pumping at his sides. The only sounds are the squelch of our boots, our heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slap of our packs on our backs. The bird dives for Sarka next, but he spins out of the way.
We reach the forest. It doesn’t deter the creature. Instead, it clamps on to the nearest tree with its claws. It has pincers on the tip of its wing, which help it hug the trunk. It shrieks at us in an earsplitting cry. I cover my ears to keep the noise out and the fear from swamping in. As we rush further into the trees, the bird leaps from trunk to trunk, following us deeper into the jungle. Sweat is pouring off me in liters, streaking down my face, cutting rivulets in the mud.
I sob in relief when Foer points to a fallen tree with an opening beneath the mammoth trunk. It’s big enough for us to squeeze through. I push everyone under, waiting until Sarka’s head disappears, then dive headfirst after him. The bird squawks above us, scraping at my legs. It’s pincer scours the dirt. Behind me, Foer shouts something unintelligible at it. I wish I could close my eyes and block it out, but each sweep of its wing brings the sharp pincer closer.
There’s a loud howl that quiets to a gurgle. The bird drops in front of the opening, still and silent, impaled through the head by a long-shafted weapon.
Chapter Thirteen
We trudge deeper into the jungle. We’re pulled single file. Our hands are bound by a coarse rope and tethered around our waists. It’s a surreal experience, finding intelligent life on this planet. Strange that in the vastness of our universe, we’ve encountered it here.
The rope around my wrists yanks me forward, urging me to go faster. I’m tethered to the last in line of the alien group. The cord snakes around his left wrist, while the other holds a large spear. It’s a guess that he’s male. For all we know their species might not have genders.
They’re a strange lot, but I’d imagine if a crow were to become self-aware they’d think us strange as well. And they must think us strange. Any creature so different would. They tower over us. Their muscles bunch and flex along their lithe bodies. And their elongated beak shaped faces stare ahead, stoic. Yet instead of stamping through the forest, they glide. They’re as light on their feet as if they weighed nothing.
Our four saviors, and now captors, are completely hairless. Nestled between their shoulder blades are pale gray, rough feathers. The color is only a shade lighter than their skin. The feathers flow down the length of their backs and taper at mid-thigh.
Another tug and I almost stumble over a log before catching my balance. My startled cry causes the one in back to turn. His black eyes flare, and as they do, the feathers on his back flap out stretching into wings. He ruffles them twice before folding them back. The more I study them, the more they look avian. Perhaps their bones are hollow like birds as well, allowing for their grace.
Everything feels lighter here, like we’re floating. From what Hartley’s explained, it’s because of the mass of this planet. The gravity is lighter, we’re lighter. I wonder if those wings allow them to fly. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and run my hand along the feathers. But good sense prevails.
There’s a commotion ahead of us as a new group of avians joins us. Up until now, they’ve ignored us. Only a tug on the rope every now and then tells us they even remember we’re here. But this new bunch is different. The largest catches sight of me and marches straight toward us, pushing a few of his comrades out of the way.
From his posture and confidence, this is the guy with all the power. The others defer and almost stoop in his presence. He pushes the last avian out of the way and glares down at me. He’s at least two feet taller than my six foot frame but I do not stoop or concede. Instead, I keep my posture straight and stare into those beady eyes. This creature will not intimidate me in front of my crew.
There’s a moment of confusion on his face when I don’t submit. His eyes travel the length of my body. They stop at my breasts and rest there for several moments before coming back to meet my eyes. His perusal is clinical, detached, like he’s observing an animal in the wild. He grabs my ponytail, pulling off the elastic so my hair falls to my shoulders. It’s almost like he’s petting me and I jerk back, disgusted.
His nostrils flare and he does that same wing flap fluttering the other did earlier. Turning, he yells at the avians behind him. It’s more like a screech. I’m not sure what he’s mad about until he grasps my head and forces me to the ground, and then I don’t care. My ire is up. I struggle against the grip. Sharp claws dig into my temples. I’m so close to the ground I can almost taste the loamy dirt.
My hands are unbound and the rope removed from my waist before I’m yanked to my feet and hauled to the back of the line. As I pass my crew, only Sarka meets my eyes with an icy, angry stare. The rest avert their eyes out of fear or empathy, I’m not sure. When we reach the end of the line, I’m retied behind Sarka.
My own nostrils flare at the implication and I glare at the avian, throwing as much hate as I can into the effort. But my rebellion is short lived. He smacks my face and
pushes it toward the ground. Screeching he marches to the front of the line.
He sent me to the back of the line because I’m female. In front of my crew, no less. My face burns in utter mortification.
“Fucking prick,” I say.
Sarka turns, his face a mix between shock, pleasure, and bemusement. I stare him down, daring him to say anything. His gaze shifts to my right cheek before turning around. I touch my tongue to the corner of my mouth. I taste blood. Already I can feel the unmistakable swell of an oncoming bruise on my cheek. Any thrill at meeting a new species has soured, leaving a cold lump of dread in its place. My naïveté unnerves me. We’ve been thrust into a world we have no knowledge of. These creatures have their own culture and hierarchy. And we are woefully and dangerously ignorant.
I almost snort at the thought. How ignorant are we of our own species and culture? There was a time when we identified as Terrans, but does that even fit now? We’re not of Earth. Few even exist who were born on Earth, and those are only due to technology. I was born in space and so am different than the humans born on a planet. My skin and eyes, as I’ve discovered, are too sensitive. Because of artificial gravity my bone density is different. There is no substitute for living on an actual planet. Even my abilities are different. I can’t hike long distances. I can’t swim or dive.
So what is it that makes us human in the first place? Is it only our DNA? A shared history, as my father claims? Or is it something more innate than even our similar molecules? Is it a universal culture that binds us? Have we changed as a species because our culture has evolved? Our habitat is different and so now our bodies are as well? Are we different from earlier humans because we share something that they don’t?
I’ve seen things most humans before my time never had the chance to experience. I’ve watched Earth rotate from above. I’ve seen comets moving through the vacuum of space as if they were gliding underwater. I know how to move through zero gravity without puking. And I am now one of the few who has been on a planet that is not Earth.
