by I. Christie
"Now, don't panic, lieutenant. This is workable," she whispered to herself, struggling with fear that threatened to immobilize her. She had experienced this gravity load a few times in recent military training engagements, compliments of Lt. Commander Nelson on the flagship Ziggy; however then she had reliable equipment and support if a problem developed that she could not handle.
M'dearie, yer lost a few minutes inta both of those military games, too. Good news is, ya been separated from that lot of fools.
Thanks, Harry, for that bit of a reminder. I hope that is good news, because being alone on a deserted and hostile planet surface dressed in a damnable AEG may have me wishin' to be back with that flaky crew. Impatiently she pushed the thought out of her mind and moved it to the immediate problem …surviving.
Now what were the commander's suggestions when we went over my disastrous run in the simulator? Don't panic. Let my suit adjust. Check my bios. Take stock of where I am while the bios stabilize. Make plans. And above all, don't drop to my knees unless it's life threatening, because it will take a lot of effort and strain on me and the suit's regs to get back up. Right, right. Take things one at a time. Ooookay.
Ifn' problems happen in that order, everythin' will be fine, eh m'dearie?
Dragging her left arm up as if it were weighted, she read her air and suit status from the gauges on the wrist of the sleeve. Everything read normal.
Bloody moon! The regs are reading that everything is just fine! What else? Hey! No more alarms in my head. "Can I be so lucky?" she muttered disgustedly, and then stifled a cough.
Aye, m'dearie. At last peace en' quiet to think. What's next on our list of 'to do's'?
"Hail to Spinner's Tale. This is Lt. Montran..." This time the cough caught her by surprise, and added to that a cramp in her chest. Now would be a good time to cast away caution and use the meds. She felt along the suit's buttons for emergency medic packets but nothing happened when she pressed the buttons. Alarmed she moved to look in the pockets for a first aid kit. Nothing. She activated her water refresher. Nothing.
Damn! Somebody emptied my suit! I had this suit fully functional yesterday! When I get my hands on whoever messed with my equipment, I'm going to throttle him.
"This is Lt. Montran to the Spinner's Tale, come in," she repeated thickly and slowly. Are you out of your mind, lieutenant? They are the ones responsible for you being in this situation. Looking closer at the gauges, she noticed her communicator did not show her voice registering on the meter.
Saved from my own foolishness.
Now, m'dearie that is truly a statement of wisdom. If ya call for fools it's fools ye'll get.
Not so foolish if they sabotaged my suit and dumped me in the middle of nowhere. She mentally reviewed her readjustment of the transport coordinates. How could they have done that, though? I reset the COs to be behind the crew not out of sight of them. Blasters! I should have checked to see if they calibrated them for the planet's harmonics! I wonder what happened to the crew. I have to find out what's going on here. This is a deserted and privately owned planet so why are they visiting…with supplies? I wonder what type of supplies. Damn, Lieutenant. You're acting like something unlawful is going on here. It could be lawful...yeah. Right. Like I need all this now. 'Ceptin, if this turns out to be a bust, I'm going to look awfully foolish with these clues laying all about. But...why me? If the freighter was doing something illegal, why haul me into it? Maybe I'm making too much of this. Bloody moon, Montran! It's staring at ch'ya right in the eyes! They drag you off a transport, stick ya on a freighter that's so fricking weird, and then dump ya in the middle of nowhere! What does that tell ya? It tells me that maybe Hadrie had something important to tell me, and he fricking waited too long!
Harriet tried to focus her eyes on what was before her. The azure sky above darkened into a thick deep blue line across the flat horizon. Turning slowly, she could see all around her the same flat land stretch out to the skyline, which was a lighter shade of blue. For a while she studied the surface, letting her eyes adjust to the different lighting than what she was use to. She began to discern differences in the landscapes dull brown that spread out before her and on either side of her feet. However, it could be the manner of light. The twin suns were moving down or up, but their angle might cause shadows. Though the moment she thought of that, another thought quickly dismissed it as a very remote possibility. There was nothing to bounce light off except the flat surface. She turned back to look at the thick dark line on the horizon below the twin suns.
Looks interestin,' doncha think m'dearie?
Shading her eyes from the reflected light that managed to get past the visor screen, she squinted in that direction hoping to see something more.
Is Merker's Outpost above ground, below ground or both? Let me make a guess here…because of the density of the atmosphere, I would say below ground. Bloody moon! I gotta look for a plate to get below…or where in Helgas Moon is the rescue bot? Blasters! Remote possibility or not…I should have checked it out.
M'dearie, ah know how much ya like this self-floggin' but ya should put it off fer another time.
Harriet could not argue that point, because she was a hard on herself. But in this business mistakes cost lives, she reminded herself grimly.
There were no landmarks or anything that caught the eye except the dark line along the horizon. Harriet slowly unlatched the HR she had tucked in her suit pocket.
Something that works! Okay. I need a beacon for a hatch.
Slowly and with effort, she moved in a circle looking for a reading of a life beacon, indicating a life pod or an Auto-R. Nothing. She decided to head to the dark line on the horizon. Pushing her legs forward, barely lifting them above the dull red ground she reminded herself not to go too quickly or lean too far forward. She was already tired from her long shifts on the freighter.
Don't even think about that, Harriet Montran. It's self-defeating. Just move your feet forward. Right. Like I can ignore the pounding in my head that's shaking my eyes in their sockets. That mess in the drop didn't help. Helgas Moon, I checked the coordinates myself. No one on that ship has the skill to change them in mid-trans. There are safety locks…I reinstituted them myself. But I didn't check to see if the system calibrated to this planet's harmonics.
M'dearie, yer spinnin' yer wheels like that little mouse in the child's tale, and drivin' me to beach me boat on the rocks like them sailors hearin' the sireens.
Okay…right. I need to do something useful here. So, what do I know about being dropped in a hostile environment…a desert, with a faulty suit and no supplies? She laughed to herself, feeling the dark humor of it, and then the familiar circumstances threatened to bring back unpleasant memories.
Damn. This will not get me anywhere. Gotta think of something practical.
Now, yer going in the right direction.
If her eyes were not hurting so much, Harriet would have rolled them, but that thought served to redirect her thoughts.
Okay…First step, look for my shipmates. I think I'll skip that part. Second, look for shelter. Okay, it's a flat surface, so, look for probable underground access - but, I haven't the slightest idea where the access plates are. Okay. Not good odds at two out of two. Last but not least…wait for the Auto-R to rescue me. That's got to be working because the charts were recent updates and it showed this place was checked out. Gawds, what if they changed the rules in Committee space and privately owned planets don't have to provide auto-rescue bots for crash victims? No, the chart shows it was cleared, so nothing has changed on that front. Bloody moon, where's the Auto-R?
Okay, okay. I'm here alone...no back up...whatdoido? Pull out a flute and make music while I wait for the dependable model A Super Swift Auto-R by Jamerio Corporation to show up? Whoa! Hold on here...okay, let's not go off the deep end. Got to not let this get to me. Okay. I'm doing great here. I can recognize my noodles are getting soft. Hmm…Better than getting the screamers. Okay, now think of something t
o take my mind of how miserable I feel. Hm…
Before she could censor her drifting thoughts, a part of herself betrayed her and drifted to a subject she had been avoiding for over four stan months. Sharon. Wonder what she would say about this mess I got myself in. Ha! I'll have to send her a note about the vacation I finally took and where it landed me.
She could feel a great mental sigh escape her, taking her by surprise.
Why do I feel…lonely? I don't feel lonely. I'm a loner by nature, and I didn't feel lonely when we split. I was okay with it. Bloody moon! I was relieved. I couldn't be waking her up with nightmares and not talk about it...and I didn't...no, I don't want to talk about it or even think about it. Geeze, just this bit of thinking about it and my stomach feels like I got cramps. Helgas bloody Moon! I thought I worked this stuff out with the counselor. I don't need this. I'm so mixed up here. It's got to be from sleep depravation. It's making me emotionally crazy…and this bloody bad air isn't helping any.
Harriet realized she stopped walking. Automatically, she started a mental check on her physical condition. Slight tremors ran up and down her leg muscles. She could feel sweat trickle down her neck and imagined her clothes soaking it up. The AEG was laboring too much and the visor was collecting condensation on the inside.
Blasters! That's all I need is sweat in my eyes and not being able to wipe it! That alone is going to drive me to the wilds of Arcus.
Aye. And even if'en ya found the Mound of E in Arcus, ya wouldn't know it!
Harry, what am I going to do with a mythical treasure? Give me something I can use. Blasters! Just keep moving, Harriet… Talking to your dead grandfather is bad enough. You don't want to add hallucinations. Damn, damn, damn. Maybe that's what all this is about. Huh, Harry? You think they are trying to drive me crazy to get back at me for resigning on my terms…those military types…they would do that. Oh, gawds, Harry. I think I'm losing it here. Where in Helgas Moon is that rescue bot? Sooner or later, the Auto-R has to send out a bot, or something. I wonder what the something would be.
As her eyes fixed on the distorted view through her visor of the dark line that continued to move up the sky, she failed to notice the rise in the ground near her feet. Her world went careening at an odd angle and suddenly her faceplate was down in the dust.
For what seemed like long moments she laid where she fell, letting the tremors in her legs lessen. Then, Lt. Montran started the arduous process of getting up. Rolling onto her hands and knees took an immeasurable amount of time, effort, and racking coughs, as if the very atmosphere outside and inside of her suit was working against her.
Commander Neilson, you are right again. Not a good idea to fall.
Her lungs were sending stabs of pain through her chest and back. For a few moments, she braced herself with closed eyes to let her heart stop pounding so hard, while savoring the victory of being upright, though it was only to hands and knees.
She was thirsty.
Sweating too much and the suit is not recycling it into my water pouch. Bloody moon! The view from in here isn't too good either, Harry. It's as bad as being in a steam room.
The inside of her helmet, covered with condensation, had a fine iridescent dust covering the outside. She coughed again wishing she could hold her head as the throbbing pain increased.
Blasters!
Sitting back on her haunches, she lifted a trembling arm to wipe the exterior of the faceplate. Now she had streaks from her glove covered with the same fine dust, making her view worse. The helmet's faceplate acted like a magnet to the glittering flakes.
Like dung balls on a lamb's hiney!
She did not bother to try to shake the dust off her gloves since she knew she could not raise enough vigor to have any real effect, besides the jolt would only make her head ache more.
Let's see what this fall was all about. Hopefully not some recent bones that I wished I hadn't stumbled across.
She slowly moved back onto her hands, patting the ground around her knees. She felt the unmistakable form of a cylinder attached to something she could not lift.
Well, Harry, it feels like a maintenance pipe.
Angling her visor to where she could get the best view, she saw two bright arrows pointing in opposite directions stamped on the pipe, one larger than the other.
It's not the Mound of E, Harry, but I'll take this as a treasure just the same. The large arrow usually indicates a city and the smaller a maintenance entrance. I think right now, the maintenance would be advisable. I'm not in the mood for socializing, especially if I run into my crewmates.
She pulled her HR out and found the small light blinking on the locator. Two klicks from her. It seemed a long time of crawling on her knees because she lacked the strength to stand, until she came to the lip of an expected elevator plate. It was a standard maintenance entrance that operated on weight distribution. Crawling gratefully into the center, she pulled the operator bar out and moved it into the 'on' position. Nothing. Moving her weight forward and back she suddenly felt the bottom below her drop.
For the amount of time it took for her to realize she was falling it ended with her body dropping heavily onto a rising plate. It stopped once it reached the surface, and then abruptly, started back down. Rolling back onto her back exhausted, she blacked out.
The air that cooled her face was scented and breathable and waking to it did not fool her for a moment that she was in serious trouble. Her helmet had been retracted and she was sure she did not do it.
Startled, green eyes shot open.
How long was I out? Okay, Lieutenant, gotta get it together.
The muted light in the light blue room made it easy on her eyes, but they still watered. A soft tone sounded, and she could hear seals release.
Time to rise and get them wobblin' legs underneath ya. Helgas Moon, they're like a newborn foal's. Don't have ta worry 'bout the air. Can't see why the air in here won't match what's on the other side of the elevator door.
Awkwardly and unsteadily she rose, using the wall for support.
Harry, if I have to defend myself…I'm going to be a real disappointment if someone's looking for a challenge. Hmm. Where is the door opening?
A whiff of air from behind her caused her to turn around on her rubbery legs.
Yer instincts are not workin' this shift, m'dearie.
Both sides look like a door, Harry. Helgas Moon, but I would love to have some meds about now. If I must kick some knees out, it would be nice to be able to lift my own. She laughed softly to herself. Right. As if that's all I need to find the strength.
Without stepping out, she studied the room, holding onto both sides of the doorframe. It appeared to be a small waiting room with two corridors leading from the elevator. There were temptingly comfortable looking couches and tables between each exit. Art covered the walls. What thrilled her eyes was the sculpture in the center of the room. It was a dramatic life size portrayal of a pair of intense Polo players riding their excited mounts towards an imaginary goal post with one trying to steal the puck.
Looking back inside the elevator, she studied the wall where she had thought the elevator door would have opened.
That could well be another door into another part of this underground city. But, might as well go where I'm wanted, huh, Harry?
If yer a guest, it would be the thing ta do. No sense in finding things yer not prepared to handle.
Ah, like the tale of Black Beard's Wives, huh Harry? Using the key he provided his most recent wife; she could not resist looking into the only room she was asked not to look into…and there were the bodies of his previous wives…You know, each time I hear it, I get a different meaning. Oh, gawds, Harry! I'm really losing it. Next I'm gonna start thinking about Messia and the three Cronies…or was it the three bears? It seems it's been a lifetime since I've heard your stories, Harry. Her thoughts trailed off as she realized she needed to get refocused. Taking a few breaths, she focused on her breathing ignoring whatever else was inside
and outside of her.
What if you're being led into a trap or some kind of danger…she snorted to herself. Anyone on Spinner's Tale being a threat to her was laughable.
Unless they have weapons.
Remembering her own she patted it reassuringly. She was too exhausted to pull it out and carry it…but that was really looking for trouble. She shook her head. She did not want trouble.
