Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  When she followed Folcrum around a tight bend, the light flared, and she could see it pouring in from an opening a few yards off. For an instant, she allowed herself to hope that she was about to emerge into daylight…but then she realized that to get to the surface, they would have had to climb toward an exit, not crawl forward on a level plane.

  Fortunately, that realization didn't rob her of the thrill she felt upon emerging from the tunnel into the underground garden.

  Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the brilliant light, she crawled out after Folcrum and let him help her to her feet. As soon as she took her first breath, she was assailed by a rich mixture of sweet floral perfumes.

  It was like stepping into a greenhouse or arboretum, she thought, when all the flowers were in full bloom – a whirl of heady scents commingled into one breathtaking fragrance. As she inhaled it, she knew at once that it consisted of a multitude of parts, each scent on its own as agreeable as the next…and yet, she was unable to pry apart the whole and single out one piece from another.

  Not only was the fragrance intense and multi-layered, but it shifted as she stood there, component scents ebbing and flowing. A sharp sweetness was preeminent, then a citrus, then a nutmeg…the soft tones of something like a rose wafting up and sliding away before a piquant mix of mown grass and daffodil. The transmutations were continuous and mesmerizing, stirring up new and beautiful combinations in progressive waves like strains of music.

  The restless perfume was unexpected, even shocking after all the musty dirt she'd crawled through…but no less so than the sights that greeted her as she looked down from the sloped rim of the cavern.

  The space in which she stood was so huge, it made Nalo's hideaway look like a mouse hole. Instead of a makeshift camp, it held what looked like a village nestled amid lush and colorful gardens; Vox gardeners moved through the vegetation individually or in groups, tending the harmoniously arranged plant life. Waterfalls cascaded from the walls, splashing from opposite sides of the grotto into foaming ruby pools.

  Light sparkled on the surface of the pools and bathed the village and gardens, cast from the illuminated walls and ceiling. The cavern was blanketed in glowing white moss like that in Nalo's cubbyhole, but more developed; tendrils hung from it, studded with giant blossoms like sunflowers that shone with white incandescence.

  Earlier, Mariko had been captivated by the beauty of the surface world with its see-through, rainbow buildings and blown-glass architecture…but the cavern's natural beauty easily rivaled that. She had a hard time tearing herself away from the panoramic view when Folcrum started down the slope.

  As he led her into the gardens along a winding gravel path, however, she found herself absorbed in drinking in the scenery from a new perspective. The beauty of the gardens enfolded her, limitless varieties of spectacular flora vying for her attention.

  The leaves and vines and stems were tinted a thousand shades of red – pink, rust, copper, fuchsia, scarlet, crimson and more. As she walked among them, she had the feeling of walking into an autumn forest back home after the maples had exploded with reds of their own.

  The flowers, on the other hand, were a riot of colors, sizes, textures…and light. Like the moss and flowers on the walls and ceiling, many of them glowed from within, as if threaded with incandescent filaments and connected to a power source.

  Tiny blue blossoms blinked like clusters of Christmas tree lights. Yellow bell-like flowers flecked with mauve hung from lacy blood-red webs of vine, the tips of their waxy stamens blazing like candles on a birthday cake. Atop stiff vermilion stalks, giant eye-level blooms changed color as she watched, emerald light flowing into azure into gold into silver. Pale aquamarine fronds brushed her arms and face, twinkling like fiber optic strands.

  Even the butterfly creatures glowed with inner light. They were five times the size of any butterfly she had ever seen, with furry bodies that looked more mammal than insect…and their wings swirled with luminescent pastel colors like the electrostatically active panels of the buildings on the planet's surface.

  Wide-eyed, Mariko trailed after Folcrum and took it all in, marveling at the intricate display of color and light and life. Without the pressure of time and worries to move her along, she could have easily spent hours on that path, lingering spellbound at each remarkable sight. The fragrances alone were enough to entrance her, richer and thicker than ever in the heart of the perfumed gardens.

  As she lagged further behind, Folcrum stopped and waited for her to catch up. "Do you hear it?" he said, drawing in a deep breath. "Do you hear the garden talking?"

  Mariko took a deep breath of her own, inhaling the intoxicating mixture of scents.

  "This is the Garden of Yesterday," said Folcrum. "It has existed for countless generations. If you know how to listen, you can hear the history of the world in here."

  Mariko breathed deeply again. The complex blend of scents was different now, though she hadn't moved to a new part of the garden and there was no breeze to carry in another fragrance. When she drew another breath, it had changed again, the acrid smell of coffee replaced by a syrupy sweetness with a mild vinegar undertone.

  Folcrum closed his eyes and inhaled again. "Lots of secrets," he said softly. "If you know how to listen."

  Mariko smelled roses and sawdust and wine…then saltwater and leather. The fragrance of the garden shifted with each passing moment, scents rising and fading and resurging in unpredictable combinations.

  Or were they so unpredictable after all?

  Perhaps, Folcrum hadn't been speaking figuratively when he had said that the garden was talking. Perhaps, there was more to the scents than a random mixture of olfactory stimuli.

  Maybe, the garden really was talking.

  Folcrum opened his eyes and nodded. "There's a secret here for you, too," he said. "The secret of the word you said."

  Mariko frowned. She smelled walnut and cucumber and gardenias.

  "Nalo could not tell you," said Folcrum, "but I know how to listen."

  Inhaling again, Mariko strained to detect patterns in the play of perfumes…but they still seemed to fluctuate without reason. Even if what she was being led to believe was true, she could not take advantage of it.

  Even if there was a fourth language on this world, and vital information was flowing around her in the form of scent signals, she could not understand it.

  "I will tell you this much now and the rest later," said Folcrum. "The Vox people were not the true mazeesh."

  Mariko stared at him, more surprised by his withholding information than by what he had revealed. For the first time, he was overtly manipulating her, trying to ensure her cooperation by hinting at the full truth and disclosing only part of it.

  She was disappointed in him.

  Folcrum shrugged as if he had read her mind. "I know," he said. "I hope you can forgive me for holding out on you…but I need something to keep you interested. I need something to keep you from running out on us, because I refuse to use threats or restraints."

  Mariko shrugged like it was no big deal…but the damage had been done. Folcrum had fallen a few notches in her estimation; she wondered if he was really that different from devious Nalo, after all.

  But the fact remained: he still represented her best chance to attain freedom and rescue her shipmates. If his cause was as just as he had said, and if the worst that he did was conceal this one piece of information from her, she thought she might as well go along for the ride.

  For now, anyway. She took comfort in the knowledge that if things should change, she at least had the Free Speakers' weapons on her person.

  As she followed Folcrum further along the garden path, she unsnapped the pocket of her uniform in which the Vox handgun was nestled, making sure that she could draw it quickly if she needed to.

  *****

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scooping up a med kit and a medical scanner, Dr. Plog hurried out of medlab. The extra quickness in his step was as much in respons
e to his eagerness to examine a new species as to the urgency of the situation.

  Though the Vox were included in the Hephaestan database, he had never had the opportunity to meet them face to face…and the database records on the species were sketchy. Here was yet another chance to expand his knowledge of xenobiology through personal contact, which was one of the reasons he loved working in the field so much.

  Though he didn't consider himself fully prepared to treat the newcomers, he had reviewed the database records as soon as Exogenesis had moved into orbit around Vox and had some basic information about Vox physiology fresh in his mind. He knew that the Vox were fur-covered mammalian bipeds acclimated to a low-gravity environment; he knew their metabolisms were fast but efficient, and their heart rate and blood pressure were generally low. Those few facts, in themselves, provided him with a good starting point in assessing and treating Vox patients.

  The rest of the facts would be up to him to fill in…and while that could be the source of much frustration, it was also quite exciting. It was his chance to make a contribution to interstellar medical knowledge, and it was his chance to challenge himself in a way that no other endeavor could match. Most gratifying of all, it was his chance to alleviate suffering and save lives.

  His travels onboard Exogenesis provided many such opportunities. In unfamiliar and extreme settings, with limited and sometimes only the most rudimentary knowledge of a species' physiology, Plog was faced with injuries and ailments ranging from the most mundane to the most exotic. Sometimes, his experience provided excellent guidance in diagnosis and treatment of cases…and sometimes, he had to throw out everything he knew and rely on intuition. Always, the work was a challenge that brought out the best in him under the worst of circumstances.

  It was unfortunate that his actualization came about in response to the suffering of others, but he could not deny that he felt most fulfilled in working out the life-or-death puzzles that came his way in abundance.

  As the multidirectional univator car whisked him between decks, Plog made mental notes on what he might face in the way of injuries and medical complaints. There could be burns and smoke inhalation, he thought…but most likely, nothing that was immediately life-threatening. If the Vox had been severely injured, they certainly would have been taken directly to medlab.

  The heavier gravity onboard Exogenesis could be a problem, but tri-ox compound would help the Vox's metabolisms compensate. If necessary, a low-gravity environment could be established for the visitors in the ship's decontamination chamber.

  Actually, Plog thought that the decon chamber should have been their first stop, security concerns and the hasty nature of their rescue aside. The Vox could be carrying any number of natural contagions, to say nothing of virulent artificial biological agents; the sole purpose of their mission, in fact, could have been to gain access to the ship for a bio-weapon release. Unfortunately, if such was their intent, it was too late to do anything about it now but try to detect and contain any bio agents.

  Before the univator doors had fully opened, Plog swept into the corridor. Ahead, he saw that the security team and their charges were approaching the brig from the opposite direction.

  Only one of the Vox had visible burns, but all three panted and walked with difficulty, supported by security personnel. Plog met them before they could enter the brig and immediately did a quick exam with the medical scanner.

  "The gravity's too high for them," he said, opening his med kit and drawing out a hypospray. "Some tri-ox compound ought to help."

  Ensign Jennings nodded. "They collapsed as soon as they hit the teleporter pad. We pretty much had to carry them here."

  As Plog moved close with the hypo, the nearest Vox eyed him warily but didn't try to get away. "Hello," Plog said pleasantly, pressing the hypo to the visitor's upper arm and activating it. "Welcome aboard." The Vox flinched at the soft hiss of the injection but didn't resist as the medication entered his body.

  Before moving on to the others, Plog ran a quick scan for any unexpected negative effects of the compound, but could see none. "You can take him inside if you like," he told Jennings, stepping toward the next Vox. "This one, too," he said, injecting the fur-covered being with tri-ox. "I'll have to take him to medlab, though," he said, gesturing toward the third member of the group. "His burns are rather extensive."

  Jennings stepped over to a comm panel on the wall and activated it. "Jennings to Lieutenant Simon," he said.

  "Yes, Ensign," Simon said through the comm.

  "Lieutenant, Doctor Plog wants to take one of our guests to medlab for burn treatment."

  "Can it be done in the brig?" said Simon.

  Jennings looked to Plog, who shook his head. "Negative," said Jennings.

  "Go ahead," said Simon. "Keep him under guard."

  "Aye," said the security officer. "Jennings out." Turning, he nodded to Plog, then pointed to two members of his team – Washburn, who was supporting the burned Vox, and Kouzakis. "Accompany the doctor and our guest to medlab."

  "All due haste, gentlemen," said Plog, placing the Vox's free arm around his shoulders. "I believe our friend here is about to go into shock."

  "Restrain him if possible," said Jennings as Plog and his group started down the corridor. "I've seen what they can do when agitated."

  "I'm sure that won't be necessary," said Plog, smiling at his patient. "Isn't that right, friend?"

  Even if it could have understood the doctor's question, the Vox was too dazed and weak to answer or even look up at him.

  At the end of the corridor, Kouzakis pressed keys on the univator control panel; a moment later, the univator doors slid open, revealing an empty car. The group entered and Kouzakis keyed the control panel inside the car, selecting E Deck as a destination.

  A lot happened in the fifteen seconds it took for the doors to slide closed.

  Down the corridor, just outside the brig, a flurry of motion caught Plog's attention. Limp and sluggish until now, the two Vox in custody suddenly leaped into action, breaking away from their captors. Instead of snatching the security team's weapons or darting off down the corridor, however, the Vox rushed straight at each other and flung themselves into an embrace.

  Then, they exploded in a flash of light.

  A shockwave crashed down the corridor, propelling fiery shrapnel toward the univator. Plog actually saw the piece that hit him, zipping between the doors as they closed.

  The projectile struck his head with such force that it flung him back against the wall of the car. The Vox went with him, yowling as it slammed the hard surface and tumbled to the floor on top of him.

  Then, despite its injuries, the creature disentangled itself and sprang to its feet. Still reeling from the impact, Plog watched with blurry eyes as the Vox launched its own attack, furiously lashing out at the two security officers.

  The univator car was in motion as the creature's claws slashed Washburn's face, then swept around to rake Kouzakis' side. As Kouzakis stumbled backward, Washburn blindly swung a fist, but the Vox ducked away from the blow.

  Through vision that was growing progressively hazier, Plog watched as Kouzakis drew and aimed his emanator pistol, only to have the Vox wrench it out of his grip. Before the creature could put the weapon to use, Washburn tackled it, using his size advantage to plow the Vox back into the wall of the car. As the creature screeched and snapped its jaws at Washburn's head, the bulky security officer pounded one fur-covered arm against the wall until it released the pistol.

  Plog's vision was growing dark around the edges; he was reasonably certain that concussion-induced blindness was setting in…that, or a less pleasant alternative. If the shrapnel had penetrated his cranium, nerve or brain damage could be the cause of his vision loss, one that would be much more difficult to repair.

  Despite the gathering haze and darkness, however, he could still see the Vox erupt in a sudden frenzy, throwing off Washburn in a burst of wild violence. Kouzakis dove at the creature but was no
match for its sheer berserk savagery; the wailing, flailing fury hammered and slashed him, dropping him to the floor in a heartbeat.

  Then, the Vox turned to Dr. Plog.

  Though his vision was reduced to a pair of misty holes in the middle of perfect blackness, Plog could still make out enough of the creature to see that it was looking at him.

  A chill ran up his spine. With Washburn and Kouzakis incapacitated, he was alone in the car with the creature…and his vision was failing. He was defenseless in the presence of a being that had made short work of two highly trained security officers, and whose comrades had been fanatical enough to carry out a suicide bombing.

  He had no illusions about his ability to survive an attack by the Vox.

  Deciding that he perhaps had one chance left to stay alive, Plog struggled to his feet and searched for the univator control panel. Through the poke holes of his vision, he spied the panel on the wall at eye level, just a few feet away.

  Plog reached for the panel and found it with his fingers, then hit several keys at random. He was unable to see enough of the panel to know which commands he was entering, but it didn't matter. He just wanted the univator to stop as soon as possible.

  Just as he hit the keys, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand shoved him around and back, wrenching him away from the control panel and up against the wall.

  His sight was almost gone, but he could still make out the furred form of the Vox hovering over him.

  The creature leaned close and stared at him, perhaps sizing him up to determine his threat potential. Holding him against the wall with one hand, it reached out with the other, moving its gleaming claws toward his face.

  It was at that moment that Plog's vision went completely dark.

  Though he could no longer see the creature, Plog knew it was near. He could hear the sound of its panting and feel the heat of its body.

  The sound and heat intensified as the Vox drew closer. As its hand brushed his forehead, Plog instinctively shrank from it, edging along the wall.