Behind her, she heard Ibri leave the pod to retrieve the circuit board, then slam the hatch once more as he secured himself inside.
Mara took a bearing and set off. The combands had a built-in compass. Thanks to the strong magnetic field of the planet, she could not lose her way.
Within minutes she was surrounded by lush green growth. Inside the forest, chittering, screeching and hooting calls came from everywhere. She saw few of the bizarre insectoid animals, but could hear them moving all around her, some small … and some large. She had not forgotten that huge insect that had surprised her at the lake, and she walked now with one hand on her sheathed weapon. The muscles around her shoulders soon grew stiff with tension, the pain in her head throbbing in time with her steps.
She took another bearing and turned to look behind her. The pod, the lake, and the crystal mountain were out of sight.
Her head swam. Her breath came faster.
She was surrounded on all sides by green, with only the merest depression of the thick humus beneath her feet to mark her passage.
“Get a grip, Mara,” she muttered to herself.
She tried to slow her breathing. Her legs quivered with strain.
Swallowing, she set off once more. Away from the lake, the vegetation was becoming thick and tangled. She had to push through it, and stumbled repeatedly on vines and the uneven surface. The ground began to slope upward.
“I must be at the base of the ridge.” Her voice sounded odd, muffled by the thick growth.
She wove between the living walls around her. Her thighs and the muscles in her hips and rear burned. She was breathing raggedly, taking in too much oxygen. She felt faint and missed her footing. She tripped, crying out as she threw her arms out to break her fall, tumbling back down the slope. Faster and faster.
She slammed into a tree, winded.
Her face was bleeding where the sharp spikes of a vine had slashed her, and her mask had been ripped off. She had wrenched her right wrist, but nothing was broken.
“OK. OK.”
She forced herself to her feet and found her mask. The straps were snapped. She tucked it into her belt. “Hated that damn thing anyway,” she muttered.
Mara took a deep breath and started climbing again, pausing every ten steps to regulate her breathing and let her muscles recover. Soon she had found her rhythm and had crested the ridge. She had been expecting a view of the lander but was disappointed. The growth was still too thick. She pushed on, moving down the hill, stepping carefully over the fallen stands of wood and tangled vines.
After a time, the thickness of the vegetation decreased and she made good time, passing into open woodland.
She stopped, exhausted, and took a bearing.
She was heading in the right direction, but there was still no sign of the lander. The terrain was tough, foreign to her station-bred senses. This is the longest four kilometers I have ever walked.
So much had happened. The deaths, the fear of the radiation. And now this strange alien world. Her limbs were so heavy. She sat back against a tree, replaying in her mind the recent events that had led them here.
She checked the chrono on the comband.
“Just three minutes rest. Three minutes.”
A warmth crept over her, and before she could resist, sleep took her.
Mara woke slowly, conscious of the stiffness in her body, and hovered on the edge of waking. A rhythmic crunching sound was coming from very close by. She opened her eyes.
A big, hairless head filled her vision, the huge eyes like dark reflective pools.
Mara screamed.
She scrambled back against the tree trunk and drew her XR32, flicking off the safety. Her heart raced, her mouth suddenly dry.
Up close the bulk of the creature was frightening. Before now, the closest Mara had ever come to wildlife had been historical vid-casts. She could see the patterned texture of the pale skin with awful clarity, a pattern that continued beneath the colored blooms that swarmed across its body, culminating in a vibrant green crown. She recognized it immediately as a member of the same race as those that took Karic.
The alien continued to regard her with absent interest, munching on a branch of succulent leaves it held in its right hand. It sat like a panda, the fleshy bulk of the body flowing over its frame in rolls of folded skin, rows of pale nipples down either side of its torso. The rounded ears moved sensually as it ate, like cats’ tails, each a mirror image of the other.
Mara aimed the XR32 right between its strange eyes. Her hand shook with the weight of the gun, and she heard herself whimpering as her finger hovered over the trigger. She was all too aware of the power in the being’s giant frame. It could crush her like an insect if it chose to.
But something did not make sense. Where were the others? Where was the shaman with his energy weapon that she had seen in the pod’s recording?
Mara looked around, jerking her head from left to right. She was alone with it.
The being made a soft, cooing sound. It stopped eating and held the branch of leaves out before it in a simply parody of her posture.
The shaking in her hand increased, and sensing she was in no danger, Mara lowered the gun. The fatigue and fear were suddenly overwhelming. She could not stop herself crying as the alien dropped the branch gently at her feet, as though in offering.
Slowly, the alien pushed itself upright and padded off into the jungle, moving swiftly along the base of the ridge and out of sight.
“God,” she said, wiping away the tears. She had to get to the lander.
She stood and sheathed the gun. Checking the chrono, she could see she had been asleep for less than ten minutes.
Mara took a bearing and set off at a run. Her muscles screamed, but she ignored the pain, focusing instead on her breathing. That was the key. She had to move fast. She could not afford to get caught alone again, not with so many of the aliens around her.
The light was dimming now, fading with the distance from the crystal mountain. After a few minutes, she crested a small rise that had been hidden by the lay of the land, and below her, set under a sparse yet towering canopy, was the lander.
Elated, she ran down the gentle slope.
Closer to the craft, she could see it was surrounded by the shimmering blue of the defensive shield, slicing through the air between the tall repeater posts. The powerful magnetic fields that stretched between the posts contained a layer of super-hot plasma. Each containment section could not maintain its critical integrity over more than three meters, hence the repeater posts. The main unit, the source of the shield’s energy, was a tall rectangular obelisk. The defensive shield was one of the greatest technological refinements to emerge from the nuclear strife of the late 21st century, proof against physical attack, fast-moving metal projectiles, pulse lasers and energy weapons. Contained within the separately shielded structure of the main unit were the powerful nuclear battery, resupply cylinders for the plasma gas, and the processors that controlled the system. The repeater posts and the conductive framework that joined each of them at the base and tip — and transmitted both control signals and electrical energy — were crafted from a high-tech memory metal that could bend to any shape. Now they were standing as straight as posts, forcing the shield into a shape of a circular fence, open at the top.
Mara walked to the main unit and gave a verbal command. A small section of the shield dimmed to full transparency as the plasma inside was magnetically shunted away, exposing the control panel. A green light flashed, indicating it was safe to touch. She entered a security code then waited as the shield section between the main unit and the repeater post to her right first dimmed, then deactivated, repeating the same process of plasma-removal on a larger scale. Once more a green light flashed, and she stepped through. She reactivated the shield from inside the perimeter, then made for the lander.
She cleared the lock in record time, sighing with relief as she swept into the cabin.
“Andrai …”
/>
Her heart skipped a beat.
Both Andrai and Janzen were gone.
Mara sped across the cabin to the main console, searching the log for any sign of what had happened. Janzen had left a message, curt and to the point.
“I released the atmospheric drone, Mara, and have reviewed the initial survey results.” He was wearing his odin, the left screen down over his eye. Looking back at her with a familiar expression of superiority. Her stomach twisted. “The aerial photography showed us the village where the aliens took Karic. It’s nearby. I will lead a mission to intercept and retrieve him.” He smiled, tilting back his head. “Remain and station the lander until we return.”
Mara felt her blood boil. An unbearable pressure filled her head.
“Fuckingfuckingfuck! Damnit, Andrai! I told you to do nothing!” She loved Andrai’s warmth and undemanding stability, but any romantic leanings she might develop toward him — and there had been some — were continually scuttled by his lack of toughness. She was drawn to strong men, often disastrously, but there it was. Andrai should have stood up to Janzen.
She checked the time on the message. She had missed them by less than twenty minutes. And Janzen had left her the message, not Andrai. That meant that somehow Janzen had reasserted his command.
“So you can’t take part in field missions, hey Janzen? You fucking, lying, prick.
“Fuck!” Janzen had completely manipulated her.
Her legs began to tremble. She sank into one of the plush, off-white console chairs. The soft, familiar comfort was bliss to her tortured muscles and frame.
This is a mess.
Mara’s worse fears had been confirmed. Now Janzen, Andrai and Karic were all in serious danger — and she had left Ibri alone and vulnerable. She had to get control of the situation.
First, see if Ibri was safe.
She checked the location of the probe. It was still over the horizon but closing fast. Andrai had reprogrammed it to take station between the village and the pod. No doubt to allow communication. She changed its flight plan so she could relay a message to Ibri. She waited anxiously for it to return to local airspace.
She and the Starburst’s crew had been expecting a frigid wasteland. A long wait in suspension, with only short trips outside to check the condition of the lander. They never imagined they would be carrying out expeditions like this, otherwise they would have brought proper field radios. As it was, space in the lander was severely limited and provisions — and the suspension gear — were top priority.
A soft tone sounded, a green indicator lighting up on the console.
“Ibri, can you read me?”
“Yes, Mara. I have a good signal.”
“How is the condition of the pod? Is it ready for a lift?”
“Negative, Mara. The diagnostic has hours to run. I am still checking the hardware.”
“Stay secure inside the pod, then fly it to base camp when it’s operational.” Then what?
She chewed her knuckle, considering her options.
“Is that it, Mara? I am busy here.”
Mara gritted her teeth. “I’ll give you further orders when you return to the lander. If I am not here, check the log. Mara, out.”
“Understood. Ibri out.”
Now was the hard part. She examined the photo-records of the survey and quickly identified the village and the enlarged shots that showed Karic being dragged and secured inside a pit.
He was alive.
“Thank God.”
From the photographs, a rescue looked easy, but Janzen and Andrai did not know about that weapon — or what it could do. So far, the aliens had not killed. But how easily provoked would they be?
“What the hell are you playing at, Janzen?”
She directed the probe on a short search pattern between the lander and the village, hailing Janzen and Andrai on the radio, hoping that she would be able to make contact. After three transects, and with the probe almost out of fuel, she reluctantly gave the command for it to return to base. The jungle was too thick, the ground terrain too difficult to interpret under the thick canopy. They could be anywhere, forced to take a wide path away from the direct line by any number of obstructions.
By the time the little probe had touched down outside the lander, she had made up her mind. There was nothing else she could do. She had to warn Janzen and Andrai before they got themselves killed.
She left a brief message log for Ibri, ordering him to man the lander, then retrieved the data on the position of the village. She filled a small backpack with provisions and downloaded a copy of an aerial photograph onto a reader. Mara knew how tough that jungle was to get through, so she planned a longer route through the open forest that grew in the dimmer areas behind the ridges. Longer but faster. She was going to run it.
Beyond the defensive shield, she paused to check the site’s security, before taking a bearing and setting off into the woodlands.
***
Janzen lay observing the alien’s village through high-powered field glasses. Andrai was stretched out beside him, also watching. They were at the top of a forested ridge above the camp, taking cover behind a low hill.
A small, clear stream ran along the edge of the settlement, which was in a large, circular clearing. All the aliens were fully grown, without any sign of progeny or a visible distinction between the sexes. They were big: between two and a half and three meters tall. None wore clothing.
Karic was in a pit on the edge of the clearing. Janzen drew his XR32 and examined the weapon. It had been one of DavisCorp’s biggest sellers, with military contracts in twenty-three countries and plenty of civilian sales; some through the front door … some through the back. They were notoriously difficult to handle, but very effective, operating just as reliably in a vacuum as in normal atmospheres. He sheathed the weapon and forced a tight smile.
A light misting rain started to fall, glistening on the forest foliage. Precipitation was frequent on Oasis, alternating between drizzle and heavy, wind-blown bursts of tropical intensity. Exposed as they were, it was miserable to be out in it, and Janzen longed for the luxurious, controlled atmosphere of the DavisCorp complex back on Earth. With a sharp twist of mental pain, he remembered that his former life of privilege was just a memory. An echo of a long-dead past.
Just before they made the descent in the lander, the new satellite they had launched into orbit around Oasis had intercepted a transmission from Earth, bringing news dated current up to 2236. The others had all been in the lander prepping for the drop when the news came in.
So only he knew.
Earth, damaged by the 2190 Embargo, had gone to war with the Free Colonies — the Mars, Moon, Jovian-moons coalition — and lost. Lost. All hope of controlling off-world facilities within Earth’s solar system was now gone, and with it the last chance to restore the prior Davis empire. And there was worse. News arrived in 2229 from the Sheffield of a habitable world around a dwarf star 12.7 lightyears from Earth, which had been named Kestrel. A huge colonization fleet with new ships capable of 0.41c set out the following year. With a confirmed new world available for colonization, the ExploreCorp stock plummeted. His own family, virtually ruined now, had siphoned off all the funds he had left in trust with them to offset their losses. In a complex legal maneuver worthy of the Davises, they had “sold” him their ExploreCorp stock for the exact value of Janzen’s remaining fortune, leaving him penniless. Sole owner of a worthless corporation.
Through his seat on the United Earth Enforcement Council, Janzen’s father had commanded armies with a word. Ordered the downfall of regimes over a snifter of Armagnac. That was real power.
And no one was going to deny him his birthright.
This world … it was his last chance.
The profits of the colonial trade would be enormous. Enough to put ExploreCorp back in the top ten. Enough to restore the Davis seat on the United Earth Enforcement Council.
The ExploreCorp colonization fleet was safe —
pulled back into a defended low Earth orbit before the start of the war. He would show everyone just how worthless ExploreCorp was. News of another habitable world would create a sensation. The ExploreCorp fleet would launch for Oasis, packed with high-paying colonists. He would return to Earth immensely wealthy, ready to take control of a newly expanding empire.
Janzen gritted his teeth and mentally stepped through the elements of his plan.
First. Surveillance.
Below him, he saw scores of simple huts, each built on a wooden frame, with reed roofs and woven grass walls. Scores of outdoor hearths dotted the valley, plumes of white smoke trailing lazily into the still, humid air. The air was filled with song. Hundreds of voices that would have shamed an operatic superstar, every single one of them woven into a complex framework of harmony and melody as casually and instinctively as birds singing at dawn.
The vocal gymnastics did not slow them down. The creatures were as busy as bees. Some would vanish into the surrounding forest, ambling away in a quick, ungainly trot, while others would emerge with equal haste, their woven nets and baskets filled to the brim. The produce was poured into neat piles of glistening leaves, brown nuts and ripe berries, then the process would start all over again. Others delivered large golden pods that looked like big, twisted melons with pointed ends and laid them carefully beside the other raw foods.
All this activity, perhaps even the singing, would be typical of any other native culture in Earth’s history — but that was where any kind of explicable behavior ended.
As he suspected, their technology was very rudimentary. The outcome of his plan would hinge on their initial reaction to his first attack. So far he had seen no indication of overtly aggressive or warlike behavior. There did not appear to be any sort of warrior class, so typical in primitive human societies. He had seen nothing remotely resembling a weapon — not even a sharp stick. That was encouraging.
One group was playing a contact sport, though. These he watched closely. Most of those involved had bright gold markings on their crowns. One team would stand in a loose circle around the big tree in the center of the clearing, while the others would approach them carefully, each carrying one of the large golden seedpods. The pod-carriers would try to dart and weave toward the tree, and if they made it past the ring of guardians still carrying their prize, they would hold it up in triumph and sing a long, high note. Those that were made to drop their pods had to surrender them to their intercepting opponent, who slunk toward the tree clutching the pod with — what looked like — a smug expression on their strange, fleshy faces. It was anything goes, with body-slamming, wrestling and what could only be described as dirty tricks like jabbing, pinching and gouging to win through. Then when the last player approached the tree, the winners would crack open the pods with powerful blows from their doughy fists and scoop out the dark, rich meat inside with their fingers, licking every last morsel from their pudgy digits with their big, flexible tongues. Then the teams would switch places. The pod-runners would select new seedpods from the piles around the camp and it would all start again. The pod game seemed all very innocent, and more importantly, not in the least bit militant.
The Tau Ceti Diversion Page 14
