We don’t use our names anymore. Just the numbers. The people we used to be are gone. We don’t talk much. We never met one another, before they marched us aboard this ship at gunpoint. We’ve never seen one another outside our armor, and we don’t want to. Pretty people don’t get locked inside hard suits. Not handsome, whole people, with their whole lives ahead of them. They let me look in a mirror once, at the hospital, and then they had to pump a whole bunch of tranks into me to stop me screaming.
The ship’s Captain spoke to us through the overhead speakers. His voice sounded human enough, but he was no more human than we were. Just a memory deposit, grafted onto the ship’s AI. A computer haunted by an old man’s memories, the ghost in the machine. A memory of a man, to run a starship, to take things like us to worlds where Humanity isn’t welcome.
“This is the Captain of the Duchess of Malfi,” said the human-sounding voice. “We’ll be dropping into orbit around our destination anytime soon. The planet’s official designation is Proxima IV. Everyone else calls it Abaddon. Why? Because it’s just another name for Hell.”
The Captain wears a ship the way we wear our armor. It occurred to me that might make him a little more sympathetic to our plight than most.
“What did you do, Captain?” I said through my suits’ speakers. “What did you do, to be imprisoned in this ship?”
“Are you crazy?” said the Captain. He sounded genuinely amused. “I asked for this. Begged for it! Thirty years’ service in the Fleet, running the space lanes, at play among the planets . . . and they took it all away from me. Just because I got old. And then they came to me and offered me my own ship and the freedom of space. Forever. Of course it wouldn’t be me, as such, just the memory of me, but still . . . I jumped at the chance. I only thought I knew what captaining a ship was like. If you could only see the glories I see, through the ship’s sensors. They say Space is empty, but they’re wrong. They need to see it with better eyes. There are delicate forces and subtle energies out here that would put the brightest rainbow to shame. There are giants that walk among the stars, living shapes and concepts we don’t even have names for. We are not alone, in the dark. . . .”
An awful lot of people go crazy when you take their humanity away and lock them inside a box. Even if it’s a box as big as a ship. I tried again.
“Don’t you miss being human, Captain?”
“Of course not! How could I miss being that small, that limited? Anyway, the real me is still human. Somewhere back on Old Earth, probably dreaming about me, out here . . . Look, whatever briefing they gave you about what you’re doing, forget it. Abaddon isn’t like anything you’ve ever encountered before. Here’s the real deal: everything on the planet below is deadly to Humanity. The air, the gravity, the radiation, everything you might eat or drink, and anything you might happen to encounter. Very definitely including the extensive and murderous plant life. Once you’re down there, you’re at war with the whole world. Don’t get distracted; you’ll die. Don’t let anything get too close to you; you’ll die. Don’t get lazy or sloppy; you’ll die. Just . . . do your job, and try to survive.”
“Are there any human people at the Base on Abaddon?” said Three. The voice that issued from his speakers was neither male nor female. All our voices were like that. Anything else would have been cruel.
“Hell no,” said the Captain. “No people anywhere, on Abaddon. It’s not a people place. That’s why they’ve sent you to work on the terraforming equipment, because robots and androids can’t operate under the extreme local conditions. Now brace yourselves; we’re entering the atmosphere.”
The whole cabin shook as the Duchess of Malfi dropped like a stone and gave every indication of hitting something that was doing its very best to hit back. I say cabin; cargo hold would probably be more accurate. No frills or fancies, just a holding space for twelve suits of armor. Turbulence shook us like a dog shakes a rat, slamming us all back and forth in our reinforced straps. Of course we didn’t feel a thing. Feeling is one of the first things you learn to do without. The armors’ servomechanisms whined loudly as they struggled to compensate for the sudden movements. My suit’s AI flashed up status readouts on the inside of my helm to reassure me we were still operating well within the armor’s specifications.
Any human being would have been killed by that fierce descent, but we were never in any danger. Hard suits are designed to insulate their occupants from any danger they might encounter. I could hear the wind howling outside the ship, screeching like a living thing, hating the new arrival that pierced its atmosphere like a knife. The Captain was right. We’d come to a world that hated us. Welcome to Hell.
“The landing pads are almost two miles from Base Three,” said the Captain. “Once I’ve dropped you off, find the beacon and head straight for the Base. Don’t let anything stop you. Or you won’t get to Base Three.”
“What happened to Base One and Base Two?” said Seven.
“They really didn’t tell you anything, did they?” said the Captain. “How very wise of them. The whole planet is covered by one massive jungle, and everything in it hates you. Base One was entirely mechanical, drones and robots run by the Base AI. Planets overwhelmed the whole thing inside a week. You can’t even see the Base anymore; it’s buried so deep in vegetation. Base Two had a human crew; they lasted almost two months, before they stopped answering their comm. The rescue party found the Base completely deserted. Force shield down, main doors wide open, no trace of a living person anywhere. Not a clue anywhere as to what happened to them. Maybe you’ll find out. Maybe you’ll last longer.”
A holo viewscreen snapped on, floating in midair between our two rows, showing remote sensor imaging of what was waiting for us down on Abaddon. At first, all I could see was the light, bright and vicious and overpowering. My suit’s filters had to work hard to compensate, so I could see anything. The landing pads were still some distance below us, shining like three crystal coins dropped into an overgrown garden. In reality, each pad was almost half a mile wide, specially designed to absorb the destructive energies that accumulate from starship landings. The jungle came right up to the edges of the three pads, surrounding them with tall rustling stalks of threatening plant life.
“Why do they allow plants to grow so close to the landing pads?” said Nine.
“Base Three sends out drones to burn it all back, once every hour,” said the Captain. “But the jungle grows back faster than the drones can suppress it. If it weren’t for the pads’ radiations, the jungle would have buried them, too. Base Three has its own force shield; nothing gets past that. Remember: once we land, watch yourselves. You’ve got no friends down there.”
You’ll be fine, Paul, said a warm, comforting female voice in my head. The hard suit’s AI. Just follow your training, and everything will be well. I’m right here with you. I didn’t say anything, but I shuddered in spite of myself.
The whole ship cried out as we slammed down onto the landing pad. The holo viewscreen disappeared, replaced by a flashing red light and an emergency siren. The Captain’s voice rose over it. “Out! Out! Everybody out! I’m not staying here one moment longer than I have to!”
Our straps flew open, releasing us at last, and we all stood up. Guns and other weapons appeared and disappeared quickly, as we ran our system checks. Servomotors whined and whirred loudly as we checked our responses, like knights in armor off on a crusade. And then a hatch opened in the far wall, a ramp extended down to the landing pad, and we went slamming heavily down the steel walkway to meet what was waiting for us.
The light hit us hard, almost blinding us despite our suits’ filters, but none of us hesitated. We just kept pressing forward, wanting to be well clear of the ship, before it took off again. The ramp disappeared the moment the last one of us stepped off, and the hatch slammed shut. We were down on Abaddon. We moved quickly to stand back to back, in squads, the way we’d been trained. The
light was just about bearable now, but the air seemed . . . sour, spoiled. Two suns blazed fiercely in the sky, too fierce to look at directly. The sky was the crimson of fresh blood, the roiling clouds like dark masses of clotted blood, outlined by great flurries of discharging energies, from storm patterns higher up. A heavy wind blasted this way and that, howling and shrieking. Abaddon, just another name for Hell.
The jungle was all around us, unfamiliar plants a good ten, twelve, fourteen feet high in places. The colors were harsh and gaudy, primal and overpowering, clashing blatantly with one another in patterns that made no sense, in a manner openly upsetting and even disturbing to human aesthetics. There were things like trees, with dark purple trunks and massive spiked branches, weighed down with masses of serrated puke-yellow leaves. All of them bending and bowing at impossible angles, as though they wanted to slam their tall heads down on us. And all around them, every variation or type of plant you ever saw in your worst nightmares. Thrashing and flailing with endless hate and vitality, whipping long, barbed flails through the air, pushing and pressing forward as though they couldn’t wait to get at us.
They’d seemed restless enough on the viewscreen, but once we appeared on the landing pad, they all went crazy, absolutely insane with rage and bloodlust. Every living thing strained toward us, churning and boiling like attack dogs let off the leash. I actually saw some of them rip their own roots up out of the dark wet earth and lurch forward on roots curled like claws. There were huge flowers with mouths full of grinding teeth, wild with eagerness to drag us down. Seedpods hurtled through the air to explode among us like grenades, razor-edged seeds clattering harmlessly against our armor.
It was as though the whole jungle was coming at us at once, struggling against one another in a vicious urge to get to us, with no sense of self-preservation at all. We stood together in our squads, taking it all in.
“There aren’t any animals,” said Three. “It’s all . . . plants. But plants aren’t supposed to act like this!”
“The Captain was right,” said Seven. “The whole world hates us. How refreshingly honest.”
“We are definitely not welcome here,” said Four. “You think this world knows we’re here to terraform it?”
“Don’t anthropomorphize,” said One. “Just deal with what’s in front of you.”
“We have to get to Base Three,” I said. “Power up all weapon systems. Remember your training. And try not to shoot me in the back.”
Well done, Paul, said my AI. Take charge. You’ll get through this okay. Paul? I wish you’d talk to me, Paul.
We strode forward, off the landing pad and into the jungle, and opened up with everything we had. I had an energy weapon built into my left hand. I fired it, and a huge mass of seething vegetation just disappeared. Good weapon, very effective, but it took two minutes to recharge between shots. My right hand held a projectile weapon, firing explosive flechettes. I moved my hand back and forth, cutting through all the plants in front of me like an invisible scythe. But my armor only held so much ammunition. So I used both weapons to open up a trail, and then stepped forward into it and kept going.
Nine was right there beside me. He had a flamethrower working, burning the thrashing plants right back to the ground. Two moved in on my other side. He had a grenade launcher. Lots of noise and black smoke, and bits of dead plant flew through the air. We worked well together, opening up a wide path before us. My armor was locked onto Base Three’s beacon, and all I had to do was head straight for it.
We all felt the shock as the Duchess of Malfi took off, throwing itself back up into the sky again, but none of us could spare the time to watch it go. We had to keep all our concentration on the plants trying so hard to kill us. They pressed in from every side, clawing and scraping and hammering at our armor, searching for weak spots, for a way in. The various fires we started never seemed to last long, and for every plant we killed, there were always more pressing forward to take their place. The jungle had already closed in behind us, cutting us off from the landing pads.
We moved slowly, steadily forward, all twelve of us together, an oasis of calm rational thought in a sea of violence, heading for Base Three. I’d tried contacting them on the open channel, but there was no reply. I remembered the Captain’s voice, telling how Base Two had been found wide open and deserted. . . . But I couldn’t think about that. Not when there were still so many plants to kill. With my ammunition reserves already running low, I had no choice but to shut down my guns and fall back on the amazing strength built into my armor. I grabbed striking plants with my steel hands, tore them apart as though they were made of paper, and threw them aside. Some twisted around my hands as I held them, still trying to get at me. A long, bristling creeper wrapped itself around my arm, constricting furiously, but I tore it loose with one easy gesture, crushing it in my hand. Thick and bloody pulp spurted through my fingers. It couldn’t touch me. Nothing could touch me. And it felt good, so good, to be able to strike out at a world that so openly hated us.
Two was pulled down by a mass of lashing creepers. They just engulfed him in a moment, crushing him with implacable force. His armor cracked in a dozen places under the incredible pressure. The creepers broke the armored joints and pulled Two apart. He died quickly, the plants soaking up his spurting blood, before it even reached the ground. Seven ran out of ammunition, or his gun jammed. Either way, he just stood there looking at it, and the top of a tree came slamming down like a massive bludgeon and slammed him into the ground. All his joints ruptured at once, and blood flew out of his armor at a hundred points. He didn’t even have time to scream. We never saw what happened to Ten. We just looked around, and he wasn’t there anymore. We heard him screaming over the open channel for a while, and then he stopped.
The rest of us plowed on through the jungle, killing everything that came at us. It was only two miles to Base Three, but it seemed to last forever.
We finally burst out of the jungle and there was Base Three, right before us. Reassuringly solid, rising tall and majestic into the blood-red sky, untouched by the world it had come to change forever. There was a shimmering on the air around it, from the force shield. It made the Base look subtly unreal, as though we’d fought all this way just to find a mirage. But the energies the field generated were more than enough to hold the plants back, and we stumbled across a wide-open perimeter to reach the Base. The force shield had been programmed to let us through, and we strode through the shimmering presence like walking through a sparkling waterfall, out of danger and into safety.
A few plants got through the force shield by clinging stubbornly to our armor. We quickly ripped them away, tearing them apart and then trampled them underfoot until the pieces stopped moving. Some of the larger growths clung to our armor as though they were glued there; so we all washed one another with our flamethrowers, just to be sure. We didn’t feel anything, inside the hard suits. When we were finished, we turned to face the main doors and found that gun barrels had appeared on either side of the doors, covering us. Possibly to assist us against invading plants, possibly to remind us that Base Three was ready to destroy any or all of us, should the need arise.
Because the armor made us too powerful to be trusted. And because everyone knew that if you weren’t crazy before they put you in the suit. . . .
The main doors slid smoothly open, and those of us who’d made it through the jungle stamped heavily forward into Base Three. Tracked by guns all the way. Once we were all inside, the doors closed very firmly behind us. Human lighting, and a human setting, seemed strangely pale and wan after the extreme conditions of the planet’s surface. The Base Commander’s voice came to us through overhead speakers. Like the ship’s Captain, he was just a memory deposit imprinted on the Base’s AI. I doubted he was as happy about it as the Captain had been.
“Welcome to Base Three.” A very male, very authoritative voice. Military to the core. Presumably intended to
be the kind of voice we’d accept orders from. “Welcome to Abaddon. None of you can leave until the job here is completed. I have been assured that once the terraforming equipment has been assembled and tested, you will all be picked up and sent . . . somewhere more pleasant. You can believe that or not, as you please. I see nine of you. How many left the ship?”
“There were twelve of us,” I said. “Three of us died just getting here.”
“Get used to it,” said the Base Commander. “Nine out of twelve is a lot better than the last crew they sent.”
“How many crews have there been before us?” said One.
“That’s classified,” said the Commander. “But learn the lesson well. Now you know what to expect from Abaddon. Everything here hates you. Every living thing on this planet wants to kill you. The air is poison; the gravity is deadly; the radiation levels would fry your chromosomes. We are at war with the world.”
“Will we be allowed access to information compiled by the previous crews?” I said.
“Of course,” said the Commander. “Study the files all you want. Profit from their mistakes. But all you really need to know is that every other crew who came here is either dead, or missing presumed dead. So stay alert. And kill everything you see, before it kills you. Now, go to your quarters. Get what rest you can. You start work first thing in the morning.”
We all had more questions, but he didn’t want to talk to us anymore. Eventually, we gave up and followed the illuminated arrows set into the floor, guiding us to our private, separate quarters. We didn’t want to be around one another. We had nothing in common, except what had been done to us, against our will. No one ever volunteers to be put into a hard suit. There was a common room, but we had no use for it. We had nothing to say to one another, didn’t even want to look at one another. Too much like looking at ourselves.
Tales of the Hidden World Page 11
