The Dark Places

by D. Martin

  “Are you ready to leave, doll?” Matt asked after several minutes had fled.

  “Yes.” I turned and flung my arms about his neck. My lips sought his as I rose on my toes.

  More time fled during our bittersweet, poignant kiss. Matt pulled his mouth away and smiled. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I asked only if you were ready to leave, not if you were ready to say farewell to me forever. But I like this very much.” His indulgent, teasing tone made me blink fast against threatening tears. Then he returned my deep kiss and left me breathless and uncomfortably warm in my insulated environment suit. “Put on your hood and gloves, Kai. We’re leaving now.”

  I had a small struggle coaxing the tight hood over my accursed, buoyant curls, and Matt had lifted one dark eyebrow and watched in silent amusement. Our insulated suits’ snug hoods enclosed our heads and chins, leaving only small portions of our cheeks, noses, and mouths exposed.

  He retrieved the supply bag from the deck and held out a gloved hand, which I grasped. The cabin door slid open, and it was time to don life-support masks, if we had needed them. The ship’s sensors had assured us the thin atmosphere was breathable. Matt, however, had packed away auxiliary breathing masks complete with compact, hand-sized oxygen generators inside our bag—just in case. We stepped into the small, lighted airlock compartment and the cabin door closed behind, sealing us in.

  The Stardancer equilibrated air-pressure differences. We moved toward the outer hull door when a blue light flared on above it. The airlock’s outer door slid open, and the ship extended her ramp stairs out onto the frozen planet’s surface.

  Icy air rushed inside the airlock, and my environment suit’s heating elements kicked on.

  Matt and I moved out of the airlock. He gave me a somber look and led me down the ramp stairs. Our footsteps rang hollow on the metal in the thick-bottomed, size-adjustable boots that accompanied the suits. Our breathing formed brief white plumes on the air.

  I was thankful for the insulated suit’s thermal controls. The air’s frosty bite lashed at the exposed areas on my face. It was tempting to punch the pulsating red dot on the suit’s regulator controls on my left wrist up several more degrees, but I didn’t, mindful of draining the suit’s power-pac too soon.

  “It wasn’t cold at all when I was last here,” Matt said. His voice fell flat and muffled upon the frigid silence. “The trees were in bloom, and fields were covered in flourishing vegetation. Something drastic must have happened inside the sunstar. I think the orbit is slowly locking, and that eternal winter will reign here until the sun goes through its final stages and eventually consumes this system in time. But life, likely, will not ever return to this planet.”

  The information didn’t cheer me.

  We tramped through ankle-deep, ice-crusted snow several paces from the ship while the Stardancer retracted her ramp and sealed the hull door. Matt didn’t reset the ship’s locking code. There was no one here, except for us. No birds sang and no tiny animals scuttled. The atmosphere was devoid of any sound and magnified our boots’ loud, crunching progress through the thick, icy crust. It seemed as if all life had truly died there.

  Matt turned to stare across an area far on our right and drew me in that direction. We moved carefully over a snow-covered field. Remains of old ship wreckage was visible ahead beneath layered ice glazes. Matt wore a preoccupied frown but remained silent. I knew well what had happened over where he was trudging toward.

  A fair portion of the ship appeared intact where it rested not too far away. A gold-plated metal tail section rose high, defying the flat, frozen plains. Dull surprise rattled me—I’d seen none of this earlier from the Stardancer’s observation window. If I’d sat at the planet scanner monitor, I would have seen it during landfall. We must have landed in an orientation that blocked this view from immediate observation. I wondered if, maybe, Matt had meant for it not to show.

  We walked until we stood ten paces away from where large, twisted metal lay clustered and rusting in our path. The pieces must have separated from the main shell, which was closer now at perhaps thirty paces away.

  Matt stopped. “That was once the Fire Dawn, Kai.” His low voice was hoarse.

  I shivered to be near the scene where a terrible tragedy years before had claimed lives and nearly taken his.

  “I’m surprised it’s still here…. It doesn’t look like any wreck scavengers were enterprising enough to cross the Patrol’s system warn-offs and cart it all away for scrap.” His lips clamped together. He squeezed my gloved hand before releasing it and walking forward past shoulder-high, semicircular segments frozen in upright positions, seeming to stand guard over the wrecked ship’s main shell.

  I didn’t follow and Matt didn’t go far.

  He stood with his back to me. Only by his incremental head movements could I detect he scanned across the field, tracking the wide, iced-over land gouge that led to the partially intact shell.

  Weathered, battered fins on the main section’s hull structure drew my sad gaze. They glinted bright gold in various places along the fair-sized ship. Then my wondering stare lifted to the gaping hole in the hull where the door hatch should have been. Several thick port windows set into the hull were either missing or jagged remnants. I wasn’t a seasoned spacer and knew little about ships, but it was common knowledge that starship windows and hatches were almost indestructible in order to withstand the rigors of space.

  “I did that,” Matt said hollowly, his voice startling me. He’d turned and caught my fascinated gawking.

  He tramped back through the tall, metal fragments to stand at my side. “After my unconventional recovery and healing, I buried A’lia and our son. I went a little mad for a while before the Patrol ship got here. I took my rage and grief out on what remained of the Fire Dawn. I also ripped out most of her interior.”

  I looked at Matt, then averted my gaze from the naked pain visible in his eyes as he stared toward the large shell. This was the first time he’d mentioned the infant’s sex. I felt like an intruder standing there.

  He moved away several steps and seemed to search for a certain point along the main section’s hull. Long minutes crept by wherein I battled reawakened jealousies for a dead woman and resented my petty emotional failings in the process. Matt turned and strode toward me, grabbed my hand with rough strength, and pulled me a short distance away toward a small clump of bare trees and shrubbery. What upset him?

  The snow layer in this area was knee-deep. Tears occluded my vision on glimpsing a lone, tall white boulder standing visible above the deeper snow line. Deeply incised etchings covered one side.

  We drew close enough to see the rough engraving on the hard surface where a much younger and grief-stricken Matt must have used a beamer to etch the words “Lady A’lia Mara Rakeda and Son.”

  Beneath her name, a date was inscribed, stating both her birth and death date. She had died on the Fifteenth Day of the Eight Month of the Alliance Year 0178 A.I.C.

  Something withered inside me and stopped the tears. My marriage date to Matt had been on the Fifteenth Day of the Eight Month in the Alliance Year 0192 A.I.C.

  A’lia died on that date fourteen years ago….

  Was that why my Real Quiet One had come to sit at the Lilith’s bar upon Harnaru, grimly drinking the deadly combination of Crynishan Dawns and Zyran Kickers? Had the remembrance of the anniversary of his family’s tragic deaths brought him there that night? Was that why he’d reached out to one lonely, tired barmaid and married her in what he knew were his final days?

  Must get away from him. I wrenched my hand from Matt’s grip and awkwardly ran through the deep snow from him and the small grave.

  “Kailiri!”

  I ran on. Rapid footsteps thudded behind me. The sounds of our boots crashing through the ice and snow crusts fell loud and foreign in the lifeless silence. Once, when his footsteps pounded closer behind, a burst of speed combined with several long leaps helped me to escape. A glance back showed I had al
most a six-yard lead, but Matt was gaining fast. He’ll catch me in several seconds—need something to slow him down. I bent midstride and scooped up slush. My hands compressed the mess into an icy ball as I continued fleeing.

  Matt’s footsteps gained on me again. I half turned and flung the hard missile with all my anger and hurt behind it before sprinting off, sparing a momentary glance over a shoulder to see if my ice ball had hit its mark. Dearleth had taught me that something small and hard could knock foes off course or senseless.

  “Kai!” Outrage filled that yell, but he’d dodged my missile.

  Then it happened. One boot caught on a submerged branch, and I went down. I scrabbled my way back to my feet and began running again, but that stumble gave Matt enough time to overtake me. His arms grasped my waist in a tight hold as he swung me off my feet. Anguished betrayal fueled my frenzied struggle to wrench away. He held on despite my snarling resistance.

  “Stop it, Kailiri!” His glowering frown indicated wrath. I didn’t stop, but he abruptly released me.

  I backed away, breathing hard from my exertions, and cast accusing glares at him. There was no need to shout. He claimed he was sensitive to my thoughts. He’d better know the source of my rage!

  “There are no special, sacred days to begin loving someone, Kailiri,” he grated out in a harsh voice as his chest heaved with deep breaths. “It’s unfortunate I didn’t meet you upon any other day than the anniversary of A’lia’s death. If it’s important to you, please note that my marriage date with her was on the Eight Day of the Sixth Standard Month in Alliance Year 0177. Does that ease some of your disappointment?”

  A quick shame tide flooded me and swept aside my rage. I turned away and stared unhappily across the white landscape at the small red sun ember that valiantly strove to radiate ineffective warmth and failing light through the gray clouds and frigid atmosphere.

  “I showed you A’lia’s grave only because I wanted you to understand the shadows in my past. I did not show it to you to hurt you. I thought I’d made my emotions for you apparent before we landed. Do you have so little faith in my love?”

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t turn to encounter the fierce glare I was certain he’d fixed upon me.

  “You’re apologizing—but for what? For seeking to come here to this world—or for doubting my heart bond with you?” There was suppressed fury in his harsh tone. Then he whispered, “Please, dear heart, let us not continue like this.”

  I turned around, and my breath caught at the anguish in his tautly drawn expression. I went to him. What else could I do? His arms enfolded me within a fierce embrace that nearly crushed my breath from me despite my environment suit’s insulating layers.

  “No more recalling ghosts from the past, doll. You brought me here to seek life. Let’s go in search of renewed life for me, then.”

  I didn’t like the strange glitter in his eyes. It was half cynical and partly remorseful, like his words. I pulled away from his arms and swallowed hard. Then I took a deep breath and forced out the admission I’d hesitated confessing after he’d allowed the Stardancer to access the A’lia files. “Do you know what direction we should go to find your savior, Matt?”

  My teeth caught my bottom lip. Tension knotted my stomach as I awaited his reply. I’m an idiot—me and my bright idea. My prayers had been that he would have an idea or two. I should have planned this mad venture better. Why hadn’t I asked if he knew where to find the creature several days ago?

  I knew why. I’d been afraid to ask.

  Just getting him to return here had become my main focus. And then I thought I’d overcome the next step, finding the Timirshil-ka entity. My quest to save Matt would come to naught very fast if we had no clue where the creature might be—if it was there.

  I’m a horrible rescuer.

  He tilted his head, and a rueful smile twisted his lips. “No plan, doll?”

  Had he known all along? I hung my head and stared hard at the icy ground, forbidding the wet prickling in my eyes to pool and fall.

  Matt sighed and pulled me close. “Sweet, fearless wife of mine, Timirshil-ka found me while I lay dying in the Fire Dawn. I never found it anywhere afterward in all the time here that I wandered around, exploring and trying not to go completely insane before my rescue. Although… I did see strange lights appear and vanish out in the distance beyond the plains over there.” He nodded off to the right. “Before we left the Stardancer, I checked the planet scans again for life energy signatures. There was nothing—except a brief frequency burst over in the west, which disappeared within seconds. I say we travel in that direction and hope to find something interesting.”

  My eyes closed with relief. This sounded much better than my plan—which had been nothing.

  “Before we head off over there, though, we need to backtrack and retrieve our supply bag. I had to drop it in order to keep up with my fleet-footed moon goddess who’s capable of stooping low to conquer mere mortals.”

  My eyes snapped open. “There’s no way you could have found any Crynishan Dawns around here, Matt—and I think you’ve just mangled some famous Old Terran writers’ poetry and plays…. And maybe I’ll be better off waiting for you here.” He’d likely dropped the bag near the gravestone. I didn’t want to go back there.

  “You’re coming with me, doll, because I’m not letting you out of my sight for a single moment. You’re the most precious possession I’ve got left. Anything could happen. I’m not chancing it.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and forced me along at a quick pace through the wide, jagged snow trails we’d left behind.

  We found the dark green bag lying near some ice-glazed shrubbery a short distance before the grave. Matt snatched it up without a glance toward the sad grove. He slipped the straps over a shoulder and caught my hand to retrace our trail back to where we’d stood arguing after our struggle.

  We continued on, walking away from the Stardancer’s solid, reassuring presence that promised escape when we needed it, and from the Fire Dawn’s wreckage. The resentful guilt weighing down my heart lifted as we left A’lia’s grave far behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  The tiny red sun had dropped lower in the sky. Matt’s pace had slowed, and I’d forced him to relinquish the supply bag. I carried it a long while, until I called a halt. His face wore the same gaunt, hollowed-out look that had caused me worry for the past few days on the ship.

  “How long do you think we’ve been walking since we left the ship, Matt?”

  He consulted a small, complex timepiece capable of simultaneously tracking Alliance standard time and three selected planetary time cycles. “We left the Stardancer an hour and fifteen minutes ago, Kai. Minus visits down my memory lane, sidetracks, and lover’s quarrels, we’ve been walking now toward our unknown destination for about forty-five minutes.”

  Some of his words stung, but I nodded. It was best not to take umbrage when we were both exhausted. We decided to rest on a nearby fallen tree’s thick trunk. I tried enticing Matt with the hot, sweet energy drink that he’d added to our pack earlier. He accepted two small sips and returned the bottle. That isn’t a good sign. I impulsively pressed my hand to the narrow area of his forehead left exposed by the suit’s hood. Instead of air-frosted skin, my fingers touched hot, dry skin.

  Oh, no! Matt had inexplicably developed a fever, and I was dragging him through this frozen wilderness without a single valid plan, in search of an elusive alien life form that he asserted had imparted life energy to him. Maybe he’d been delirious and hallucinated about that entity. He had been grief-stricken at the time and also in much pain from a fatal injury.

  “We’ll return to the Stardancer, Matt. I’ll look around more tomorrow while you rest on the ship,” I said, rising from the log. It seemed like the most reasonable way to proceed with this mad mission I’d rashly plunged us into. “It’s time we returned anyway. It looks like sunset and nightfall can’t be more than two or three hours away.”

  Matt shook his h
ead in stubborn opposition. “No. You’re not searching out here alone. We search together throughout what’s left of this day. If we’re not successful, we return to the Stardancer and lift from here directly—and never return.”

  He sounded so definite that I refrained from dissuading him.

  He grabbed the supply bag from where it rested before I could. We continued across the white wasteland, devoid of life and featureless except for occasional twisted, bare trees and tortured shrubbery.

  A short while later, the flatlands gave way to very low-inclined, snow-layered hills that made walking more challenging, but manageable. We topped another gentle rise and paused for a rest.

  I scanned around, as I’d done all along, only this time without hope. Bitter despair clouded my thoughts. Oh, please—where are you? We must find you. He needs your help again. And we’re leaving soon, never to return. I hated myself for drawing Matt to this dying system and sad planet, through a hurtful past, and then dragging him out here on this fool’s chase when he wasn’t well. He was right: this path I’d set us upon by opening that accursed ship flight file had pulled us into nothing but pain.

  Matt had been staring fixedly at a point on the horizon. He suddenly pointed somewhere off to our left. “Look there, Kai!”

  I swept my startled gaze across the shadowed plains to a distant edifice—the only evidence we’d spotted thus far that we weren’t alone. Nothing had been there moments before when I’d scanned around in desperation. The object seemed to rest halfway between us and the horizon across the hills. It appeared constructed of glittering, jewel-bright blue ice. I glanced at Matt, whose expression was closed and unreadable, but his dark eyes were alert. The flecks in them sparked with sudden vibrancy.

  “Let’s go have a closer look,” he said, and tramped past me with forced determination in his heavy steps.

  I trailed behind him. The terrain had near drained my energy, and his weariness must be greater. However, Matt stoically forged through the knee-deep ice crusts overlying the rolling land. He turned once while edging down a steeper hill to come back for me when my steps faltered. He encircled me with an arm and led me on beside him.