“Arne,” he said, “activate our own distress beacon. We may need to follow the signal back.” It would be so, so very easy to get lost in here, he realized with a chill. The sunlight was too dim to tell which direction it was coming from, and every tree looked just the same.
“Louise, when is sunset here?” By the stars, he couldn’t let night catch them out here, or they’d never make it anywhere until morning, helm lights or no.
She squinted as she thought. “Another two and a half, maybe three hours. The planet’s day is roughly twenty-six hours.”
No time to dawdle, then. “Right. Let’s get moving.” He gestured for Arne and his scanner to lead the way, following the beacon.
They walked along the fallen tree for a few yards until they found a likely place to climb down. Karl felt the bark give ever so slightly under his booted feet. The bark formed whorled patterns across the trunk in variegated blues, greens, and greys that Karl would’ve liked to have examined under different circumstances. Ginevra must be loving this.
Or would be if she were alive, he thought with a pang. He tried raising Anders again on his helm commline. No response.
The trunk was so vast that the forest floor was nearly ten feet below them. Louise looped her rope around a jutting burl on the trunk and let it fall, testing it with her weight.
“So we can get back up later,” she explained. She slid down the trunk, using the rope to slow her fall, and Arne was hard on her heels.
“After you,” Karl told Elsa, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. She flashed him a nervous smile, and he belatedly remembered her fear of heights. A mere ten-foot drop, however, didn’t seem to be enough to trigger her phobia; she slid down the rope as easily as the others had. Karl took one last look from his higher vantage point, trying to brand the skiff’s location into his memory, before following her.
The fallen leaf litter on the ground was so thick, his landing felt soft and bouncy. The leaves were eight-pointed and as large as his hand: beautiful, but they would be a pain to wade through. He quickly realized that the ferny undergrowth was so tall, keeping in visual range of each other was going to be a problem. Elsa all but disappeared if she walked a few feet away from him, and Louise and Arne weren’t much easier to keep track of.
“Hold up, Arne,” he ordered the lead sailor. “We’re going to lose each other if we don’t walk on each other’s heels.” He turned, craning his neck again. From his vantage point he could just barely see the skiff on top of the tree trunk. “Everyone remember where we parked, or this could be a long camping trip.”
Elsa chuckled nervously. Arne didn’t even look up from his scanner. Without Karl having to give the order, they all picked up the pace, staying within arm’s reach of each other as much as possible. It wasn’t always possible; the underbrush was thick, and wading through it wasn’t easy. Arne led them around the massive trees, winding more than any of them would’ve liked—there was no help for it. A straight line through the undergrowth just wasn’t feasible.
Louise hummed to herself as she glanced at Arne’s scanner over his shoulder. “Radiation isn’t as high here as it was near the volcanic activity. It wouldn’t surprise me if those mountains were full of radioactive minerals.”
“Then I’m glad the skiff didn’t crash in the mountains,” Arne said fervently.
Karl caught himself just before tripping on a vine. He was too busy running through potential scenarios the other skiff might have encountered—while resolutely not thinking about the Sovereign’s unresponsiveness and what that might mean—to watch his feet carefully enough.
“That’s lovely,” Louise commented.
Karl glanced up, assuming she was making a sarcastic comment about his stumble. She’d been hanging around Hon too long. But the geologist was gazing to their left at a patch of waist-high golden flowers.
“Do they look familiar to you?” Louise asked the party in general.
Elsa looked baffled and shook her head. Karl imagined she had seen very few flowers in her lifetime, spending it as she had on Anser or on mining stations. That thought saddened him inexplicably.
“A bit, maybe,” Arne said, distracted. “We should keep moving.”
Karl was about to agree, but Louise was entranced. “I’ve got it,” she exclaimed. “They look like the daffodils they have on New Gaul. Space daffodils.” She chuckled to herself. “I hope Ginevra got to see these.”
Karl took a step, gesturing for the others to follow “Yeah, well, these daffodils could be meat-eating for all we know. Let’s wait to pick a bouquet until Ginevra has studied them a little more.” He didn’t add, “assuming Ginevra was unhurt,” but it seemed a painfully loud omission to his ears.
Louise was thinking the same thing, judging by her expression as she stared at the flowers. Karl suddenly remembered that Louise and Ginevra had served together before both were transferred to the Sovereign. His expression softened. “The sooner we find them, the sooner we can help them,” he told Louise gently.
She nodded briskly, breaking her gaze away from the flora. “You’re quite right.” She marched on, taking the lead from Arne.
His father would’ve had an inspirational speech on tap for this sort of situation, Karl knew. He considered making an attempt of some kind at it, but gave it up. He had learned long ago that his command style didn’t parallel his father’s. He supposed every boy clashed with his father growing up, but most boys didn’t have to serve under their fathers aboard the same ship. It was nothing short of a miracle that both Tsarevich men had survived the experience, in his opinion. The shadow of Jacob Tsarevich was a tough spot to grow up in. Adopting a different command style had been less of a conscious choice and more a survival necessity to avoid being consumed by the dominant personality of the King of the Stars. Most people found Karl bland by comparison, but acting calmly in the face of theatrics had served him well in dealing with his father, and his crew seemed to value that calm during difficult situations as much as they were inspired by his father’s dramatic speeches.
Karl checked his chronometer at least a dozen times in the next fifteen minutes. Their pace was necessarily slow, but he chafed under it, knowing daylight was burning fast. He was grateful that the other skiff’s signal wasn’t far away. Traveling for miles through this mess would—
“What was that?” Elsa cried. Karl’s head jerked up, and the rifle on his shoulder found its way into his hands without conscious thought on his part. His gaze swept their surroundings but came up with nothing. “What did you see?” he asked quietly.
Elsa was in a half-crouch, scanning the treetops above their heads. “There is something up there,” she said, and her voice was absolutely certain.
“We saw some pretty large birds when we were in the mountains,” Arne said, sounding dubious. Now that they didn’t have their trek to distract them, the forest felt oppressive, watchful.
“These weren’t birds,” Elsa said flatly. “The movement was well below the canopy, only a couple hundred feet above us.” She finally straightened, unable to pierce the dusky twilight enough to identify what she had seen. “I don’t see anything now. Let’s keep moving. It doesn’t matter what’s up there; regardless, we have a rescue to execute.” Karl watched her square her shoulders, and he felt a wave of affection for the brave cinder.
He tried the helm commline again, trying to reach any member of the other team. Still nothing.
The ferns finally thinned a bit, and they were able to move faster, breaking into a light dog-trot broken by the occasional scramble over brush. “Almost there!” Arne called over his shoulder.
An opening in the canopy permitted a shaft of light to penetrate the gloom. Karl caught the reflection of light off of metal. “There it is!” he cried, moving forward to catch up with Arne.
All four of them picked their way over broken branches and leaf litter that lined the trail that the downed skiff had blazed in its fall. Karl reached the port side of the skiff and vaulted over a mas
sive fallen branch to reach the stern. He braced himself for the possibility of wounded, maybe even dead crew inside as he rounded the skiff’s corner.
To his surprise, the skiff hatch was open. He jumped up to the threshold, catching the top doorframe with a gloved hand.
His eyebrows rose. The skiff was empty. Why would the crew leave? They knew that Karl’s skiff was on the way. This vehicle was clearly damaged beyond any ability to fly again, but it was the source of the distress call, shelter, a cache for supplies—there was literally no reason to abandon it and every reason to stay nearby.
“Well?” Louise demanded from behind him.
“Nobody home,” he said over his shoulder. “I don’t understand—”
Arne bellowed wordlessly, causing Karl’s fingers to clench reflexively around the hatch frame. Arne clutched his pistol in both hands and aimed it at Karl.
The blood drained from Karl’s face. “Arne,” he said, making a supreme effort to keep his voice calm and reassuring. “What are you doing?”
Could something on the planet be affecting his pilot? Karl ran a quick check on himself; he felt fine. His mind raced through the options. Perhaps Arne’s suit had torn without him realizing and he had been exposed to a toxin. Perhaps the radiation levels, higher than what they were used to, were affecting him.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Arne,” he said, pumping as much serenity into his voice as he could manage. His mind sped through what he remembered of his training on how to deal with crewmembers compromised by alien influence. He wasn’t coming up with a lot.
“Karl, get inside the skiff!” Elsa screamed, breaking the tense moment. “Now!”
He only hesitated for a fraction of a second, but it was almost too long. As he swung himself inside through the skiff hatch, a large, dark shape dropped from the roof of the skiff to land in front of the hatch. Its claws scraped against his helmet as it leaped, and the glancing blow knocked him to the deck of the skiff. He had a brief but very memorable impression of fur and gnashing fangs as the thing tried to lunge for him before the flash from a flurry of pistol shots filled his vision as Arne fired.
Karl lay frozen on the deck of the skiff for a second. All was abruptly quiet, so much so that he thought he’d damaged his helm commline in the fall.
Then his commline came to life. “Karl, are you all right?” Elsa asked in a small voice.
He pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah,” he said shakily, not sure whether it was true until he said it. “What in the worlds was that?” He cautiously poked his head outside of the skiff, pistol in hand.
Arne still clutched his own pistol in both hands, advancing slowly on the massive furry creature sprawled across the ground in front of the skiff. The pilot gently nudged the creature with his foot, then shot it again for good measure. “Dead now, whatever it is,” he said.
Karl holstered his pistol, grabbed the hatch frame with both hands, and swung himself out over the body to land just beyond it. He looked back warily at the roof of the skiff before turning to his pilot. “Arne,” he said. “Thank you.” He swallowed down the adrenaline-fueled babble that wanted to emerge.
“Didn’t mean to make you doubt my sanity,” Arne said, “but I saw that thing poke its head up and didn’t know how else to react.”
“No, no, that was good,” Karl said, exhaling slowly. “Keep an eye out for more, please.” He turned to join Elsa and Louise in examining the body.
The animal was covered in thick grey fur, which blended flawlessly with the grey-green leaf litter on the forest floor. The muscles in its four legs were powerful, and each paw ended in a set of formidable curved claws. Even more daunting, the muzzle was pulled back in death to reveal a massive set of teeth. Its body was fully as long as Arne was tall, a full head longer than Elsa’s height. But its thick, bushy tail was considerably longer than the body.
“Cute and fluffy,” Louise said dryly.
“You were right,” Elsa told Arne as she gazed down upon the carcass. He turned away from his scan of the trees to look at her inquiringly. She gave a grin Karl was coming to recognize meant mischief. “It was a squirrel I saw in the trees,” she said.
Arne cursed. Karl hid a smile.
He jerked a thumb back at the skiff. “That thing is damaged beyond repair, and the viewscreen was breached. No blood, though, and some of the supplies were gone. I’m guessing the crew came outside to assess the damage, got spooked by the critter, and were cut off from getting back inside. Not that it would provide much shelter from the animal anyway, with the viewscreen shattered.”
“Do you think they left to find shelter elsewhere?” Louise asked.
Karl nodded. “It’s the only thing I can think of. Must’ve been in a hurry or they would’ve left us a message.”
Elsa eyed the terrain around them critically. “I’m not seeing much in the way of shelter from the squirrels around here.”
“The scanner picked up some rock outcroppings farther back along their skiff’s incoming track,” Arne said, his eyes never leaving the treetops.
“That could work,” Elsa said, looking at Karl.
He paused for a beat, wishing desperately that they’d been able to raise the Sovereign. This went against all kinds of protocol, abandoning their vehicles and setting off into the forest. They would be unfindable. But he didn’t see an alternative. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Their progress out was warier than their march in, and Karl watched the treetops so assiduously that he found himself tripping over the ground vegetation even more than usual. Still, he urged the others to move faster. The back of his neck prickled unpleasantly. Something was watching; he was sure of it.
He caught sight of the rock outcropping ahead, rising above the ferns. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Arne’s shout forestalled him.
The squirrels were coming out of the trees.
The trees were alive with movement as squirrels leapt from branch to branch, descending to the forest floor. As Karl watched, one of them made a leap several times the length of its own body, tail held out stiffly for balance. It landed on another tree, and its claws gripped the tree trunk so tightly that bark fell in a wild spray. The animal used the tree trunk as a springboard to launch itself even farther.
The flash of rifle fire next to his face startled him. Louise had her rifle steadied against her shoulder, and she picked off the nearest squirrel. She made a satisfied sound that turned into a yelp when the squirrel picked itself up off of the ground, shaking its head. “It’s going to take more than one shot to take them down,” she said with an edge of fear in her voice.
Another shot flashed, this time from Elsa. She hit the squirrel right between its furry ears, and this time it stayed down.
Karl blinked in surprise, but he didn’t have time to comment on the ex-cinder’s marksmanship. He drilled another squirrel leaping towards him in ground-devouring strides just as it leaped over a clump of ferns. It twisted in mid-air and hit the ground hard, plowing up a little furrow of leaf litter as its momentum carried it several more feet. He shot it again in the head before it could find its footing.
“They’re trying to circle us,” Elsa warned. Even through their helmets, the sailors could hear the wild chatter of the squirrels, a sound like a clattering roar.
Karl assessed the situation and made his decision swiftly without permitting himself the chance to second-guess. “Make for the rocks,” he said. “At the very least, that puts some more distance between us and the trees.”
Already the squirrels were learning, attempting to get above the sailors’ heads via arboreal routes and drop down on them rather than approach overland. Arne and Karl fired upward, trying to take out the squirrels before they could get too close.
Louise grabbed Arne’s arm and spun him around towards the rocks when he didn’t move quickly enough. “Forget it, they’ll be swarming us in a few more seconds,” she gasped. He fired another quick burst and followed her without protest as she sprint
ed toward the rocks.
Karl had intended to bring up the rear, but Elsa had planted her feet and didn’t seem inclined to move. “What are you waiting for?” he hollered.
“You, Lieutenant,” she snapped. “Don’t pull any heroics.”
He grabbed her free hand and bolted, hauling her after him. “I was just going to hold them off long enough for you—”
“Famous last words,” she bit out between breaths as they pelted along the forest floor. He released her hand so that they could go around opposite sides of a fern. He resisted the impulse to grab it again; it was best they keep their dominant hands free for shooting.
“Sorry, by the way,” she said as they ran.
“For what?”
“I fired without waiting for your order.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m grateful for your disobedient streak.”
He had lost sight of Louise and Arne in the brush, but the rocks loomed just ahead. “Louise,” he gasped into his helm radio. “What have you found?”
“Move to your left,” Louise said. “You’ll see a clump of smoking ferns. We’re just past that.”
“Smoking ferns?” Karl asked, cutting left. A squirrel raged behind them, and Karl squeezed off a quick shot over his shoulder. He doubted that it was a hit, but it made him feel better.
Arne grunted. “They were in the way. I shot them.”
“I’m staying on your good side,” Elsa muttered, breathless.
The hacked-off ferns appeared before them, and they skidded on the fallen leaves to adjust their course towards them. Elsa sneaked a glance behind them.
“Have you seen how many are behind us?” she asked in dismay.
“I’m purposely not looking,” he replied grimly. “Almost there, if Louise is right.”
“I’m always right,” Louise’s affronted voice said in his ear. “I see you. Watch for my shot.”
Her voice broke up on the last sentence, and it took him a second to piece together what she had said. A rifle blast lit up the sky in front of them, and the ferns cleared as the terrain gave way to rock. “Got you,” Karl said, out of air to say anything else. The whole pack of squirrels descended, and one of them dropped to the ground only twenty feet behind the running pair.
The Star Bell (The Cendrillon Cycle Book 3) Page 11
