by Jake Macklem
He put on his backpack, picked up his rifle, and adjusted his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was at the edge of a plateau. Below and beyond he saw a large flood plain covered in grass and dotted with small woods. Mountains occasionally rose from the flatland, but still some distance off. The trees that grew among the grass and foothills were short, with a thin covering of leaves. Only see the grass and the one kind of tree. Far above the base of the mountains, a kilometer above the plain, plant life started to grow again, much denser and in greater variety. Old-growth. That‘s a lot of water. With a tap, he activated the recorder attached to his combat armor. “It appears this plain floods regularly. The water comes from this direction… west.” Cam spun around, showing the massive channels carved in the iron mountain. “What causes the flooding can only be speculation at this point.” Spinning back to face the open plain: “Given the erosion level on the mountains, the amount of water that floods through these plains is astronomical. Acknowledging how arid the area is presently, it might be flash floods with currents strong enough to take everything with them as they pass. Or maybe the area is submerged for a period of time. Shaw out.” He tapped the recorder to turn it off.
“On the trail again. Yee-haw.” Cam walked the plateau edge, looking for a safe place to rappel down to the plain below so he could cross it to his pickup point. When it hits 50C I’ll find whatever shade there is. Get what sleep I can, travel again when it cools off. “Yep, night travel, day sleep. This is gonna be cake.”
He descended into the valley a short time later, a large rock functioning as his anchor point. Tying the rope with a knot learned in his military recon days, at the bottom he tugged a few times—the knot slipped loose and the rope fell to the valley floor. While expertly coiling the rope and planning his path, he spotted something interesting; a bright white-greyish metal reflected the light. Walking to a rock grouping, he pulled out his global survey scanner—or GSS—a handheld device with a detachable sensor, often called a wand for its sleek cylinder appearance.
Using the spectrum wand, he scanned the rocks. Platinum. “Hot damn!” He grinned and looked to the sky, tipping his hat. “Thank you, Verse!” He set down the GSS and dropped his pack, then removed his folding pick and assembled it. He slammed the tool into the rock, chipping out a chunk of platinum. We’re leaving Earth Gwen! And not on some derelict lifeboat that promises false hope. We’re going on an independent ship! With a respected and legitimate entrepreneur whose ship is big enough to carry all the supplies we’re gonna buy! The large hunk of platinum fell to the ground.
Picking the piece up, Cam smiled at its weight. Maybe a half-pound. This is a good bonus. He stuffed the rock into his backpack and disassembled his folding pick. No sense going for more. The return crew will ignore a few mementos, but if I get greedy they’ll report me. He replaced his backpack and returned the wand to the scanner. With a few key taps, he marked his longitude and latitude as a possible valuable resource location. If there’s a vein of this…
The next few hours passed quickly for Cam, leaping from idea to idea for gifts to get his family. For Gwen, he would pick up a few dresses, but her real gift would be repairing her grandmother’s pearl earrings. Pearl and platinum has a nice ring to it. A gift for Tomas was easy—a telescope. A good one, with a digital overlay and quality zoom. He could watch the ships coming and going from orbit. Calvin’s gift was more elusive and Cam thought long and hard on what the perfect gift would be, but nothing felt right.
As he began to feel the heat, he started seeing more and more large tree-like plants. Upon inspecting them, he realized they were more like a hemp stalk. Firm but pliable. They were thick-trunked, climbable, and grew well in the deeper recesses of the plain. Probably closer to the water table. The original reports on the moon indicated many rivers and streams, however, Cam had not come across anything but small, shallow, dried beds. Entering a grove of the trees, Cam found small comfort in the shade of the red leaves.
Searching the area, he saw his first signs of animal life—eggshells. Cam had seen insect creatures, but nothing else until now. The shells were the size of a soccer ball. Broken and scattered, it was impossible to tell if something got into them or if something came out of them—only that it had happened a while ago. Whatever laid those is gonna be big. Cam had been vigilant, he had not seen any tracks and knew nothing dangerous was around, but his thumb still flipped the safety off his rifle.
Deciding it was better to sleep in the tree than on the hot ground, Cam used his climbing gear to tie himself to the trunk and tried to get comfortable in the hot breeze. The branch he was sitting on was barely wide enough, but he disliked having his legs dangling beneath him. Cradling his rifle in his arms, he closed his eyes and tried to think. His mind still wrestled with the perfect gift for Calvin. As he drifted toward sleep his eyes snapped open and his heart skipped. “I don’t know my son.”
Between the heat and thinking of his family, he did not get much sleep. Through the red leaves, he watched the sky turn white and then pale pink, light orange, to dark red. The green sky isn’t too far off. Kind of like wearing lowlight goggles. Cam climbed down and gathered his gear. As he emerged from the grove, he was struck by the contrast the churning gas giant created against the deep red of the sky. Even on a cosmic scale, the planet was massive, looming over its tiny satellite, which barely qualified as a moon.
Being in the northern hemisphere, where the pole was pointed at the Ophelia, at any time, day or night, the green gas giant was visible. Only during the white light of the rotation was it low on the horizon. Lingering a moment longer, Cam reached into his pack to retrieve his personal recorder.
Pointing it up at the planet, he tapped it on. “Will you look at that Tomas?” The churning greens of the gas giant were swirled with pale yellow-white striations, like clouds in a sky. I don’t know, but I’m sure you do, so… What‘s that swirling going on up there? Whatever it is…” Cam lowered the lens and captured the expansive field. The green light reflected off the red grass and a strange yellow hue hovered over the ground. “…what it does down here is amazing.”
Cam started walking across the field, the auto-stabilizers kept the recording from bouncing. “I hope you like these videos of all the places I go and things I see. I know I haven’t been around.” He bit his cheek trying to choose his words. “I need you to know I want to be there, with you, your brother, and your mom. I know you know what I’m trying to do, but I… I never really asked what you thought about it. Never asked if you wanted to go to a new world. It occurs to me that I probably should. And I’m going to when I see you.”
Swallowing, he continued, “What I see when I’m on Earth… It scares me, Tom…Tomas. People have nothin’ and no how of getting something. Desperate and hopeless. It ain’t right Tomas, it’s not how we were meant to be. There’s something deep inside of us, inside humans. It’s the thing that catches our breath when we see a sunset…” Cam smiled, “…or the love of our lives. We seem like individuals, but really Tomas, we’re all the same and we’re all connected. If I don’t get us away from that planet, I’m afraid of what it’s gonna do to us. To you and your brother. I want a better life for you boys.” Turning the lens onto himself, he spoke directly to the camera, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there, Tomas. I aim to be a better father and a better husband. I love you boy.” Cam forced a smile before turning the recorder off.
Stowing the device, Cam licked the sourness in his mouth and checked his GPS. He corrected his course and continued toward the pickup point, still over two hundred and ninety kilometers away. If I do fifteen or sixteen kilometers a day I could get there early for a day or two of R and R before the Po’olu’u gets in orbit. Wonder if this place has space-trout. His stride slowed for a moment as a thought struck him. That‘s it!
Thinking of Calvin, he realized that other than enjoying a bit of mayhem and being a constant cause of mischief for his mother, Cam did not know what interested his son. Was he smart like T
omas and his mother? Before Cam left, he and Calvin had spent time together learning about the animals that used to live on Earth. He liked animals.
Cam smiled. Maybe we can get a pet. Maybe a cat. Gwen would never go for a dog. He could hear her say, “It would just be another kid, and I’d be the one taking care of it.” If we get our homestead, we’ll get a dog.
As he progressed across the valley, the sky started to turn deep pink and the red grass got taller, the blades getting thicker—and sharper. He noticed red grooves on his knee pads and realized the blades of grass would slice fabric or flesh easily. He knelt to inspect his combat armor. The red left behind was just a fine powder. Iron. Cam stood and started to take a step, but something caught his eye.
About four hundred meters away, a swath of ground had been churned in a long row. He was not sure, but he thought it might end near a grouping of the hemp-like trees. Now, what could that be? It was not far off, but it was not the direction he needed to go. Shrugging, Cam started forward, a few strong steps, then he slowed and stopped. He felt a tug in his gut telling him to check it out. Only one thing I know can cut the ground like that. At the same time, his brain pulled him forwards. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. In tight-lipped determination, he took three steps before grumbling, “Damn it,” and changed direction toward the strange group of trees at the end of the scarred ground. “This is a bad idea.” And the right thing to do.
8: Ace
The clock ticked down to two minutes. Just one more minute. Just one more minute. Ace repeated it over and over for the last hour and fifty-eight minutes. Forcing herself to remember that the moment would end. That the cold was uncomfortable, even deadly, but with self-control and determination, she would endure.
Even so, knowing it would end did little for the deep ache in her bones and tight constriction in her muscles that screamed for relief. As much as it hurt, the look on Cadet Smith’s face hurt more. The look of fear. The look of betrayal. The look of hate. Smith was shouting words, but Ace could not hear them over the splashing water, the shouts from the other cadets, and the pounding in her ears. She did not have to—the look said it all. Just one more minute.
She glanced over at Cadet Anderson, splashing around in the water, trying to understand what was happening to her. Get it together Anderson. The girl’s brown eyes started losing focus. She barely made the hour. She fell ten minutes later and has been laying freezing to death on the concrete. It’s my fault. Should have gotten out of the pool.
As Anderson slipped under the water, Smith moved toward her but Commander Diaz shouted, “Hold Cadet! You either both save her or you both watch her drown,”
Smith’s eyes pleaded with Ace. “C’mon Ace, we have to save her.”
Through chattering teeth, “She’s gonna have to save herself or wait a couple minutes.” Smith narrowed her eyes, but Ace stared at Diaz. I see what you’re doing hussy. Russell began to sink, her eyes open but not seeing. Her brown hair floated out around her in all directions. Like an angel in space.
Smith’s attention turned to Anderson as she touched the bottom of the pool. “She’s gonna die because of you!”
You just don’t get it Smith. Anderson is the weakest link. The cadet placed last in more mandatory minimum events than any other cadet, and she never won any daily or weekly challenges. She’s a washout at best. But this isn’t about her. It’s about us. You shouted their rhetoric, but do you believe their propaganda? That’s the real test, Smith. Can we live with someone dying because we choose mission success over lives? “The water’s cold, she can survive. We can save her.” The clock ticked down. Just one more minute. A warmth filled her chest, feeling of accomplishment swelled. “I’ll dive down to her, you get to the edge and be ready to pull her out. Got it?” Smith struggled, but she finally nodded in understanding.
“What is it you ladies are gossiping about?” Commander Diaz asked. “I can’t hear you over your fellow cadets chattering!”
“Smith was just asking what I was going to do with my weekend pass, ma’am,” Ace yelled.
Commander Diaz grinning ear to ear. “And what did you tell her, cadet?”
“I’m gonna find me some dick, ma’am!”
A few chuckles escaped from the shivering cadets as the clock ticked the last few seconds. Ace locked eyes with Smith: “Are you ready?”
Smith nodded.
Commander Diaz brought her whistle up and blew. Smith swam fast toward the pool’s edge while Ace took a deep breath and dove into the water. Anderson gently bobbed along the bottom. Swimming to her, Ace wrapped her arms around the dead girl's waist. She planted her feet and launched off the bottom. As she surged through the surface, she rolled onto her side to keep her comrade’s face out of the water and began scissor kicking to the edge. Smith grabbed Anderson’s cold body and Ace pulled herself out after. Together they laid Anderson flat and started CPR.
Both cadets were trained and certified and knew exactly what to do. She’s been underwater two minutes. One minute could begin brain damage. “You ready?” Smith tilted Anderson’s head back, checked the airway, and nodded. Compress. Compress. Compress. Breathe. Together they performed perfectly, doing everything exactly right. Then they did it again. And again. Ace lost track of how many times.
Her knees pressed against the concrete and hurt. The cold was making it difficult to keep the right rhythm. C’mon Anderson. Wake up! You need to wake up! You should have already woken up! Ace felt a hand on her shoulder; she shook it off but it returned. Turning, she saw Commander Diaz looking down at her.
“It’s time to call it, cadet.” The commander's voice was remarkably calm and soothing. Ace shook her head. No! Smith had stopped but Ace went on alone. She fixated on Anderson’s face, blank eyes staring back, head lolling with every compression. She would not stop trying.
Commander Diaz knelt and spoke softly, “She’s gone, Ace.” She stared down at Anderson’s body. Standing again, the commander faced the shivering cadets and their terrified looks. Speaking in the same soft tone, she said, “Hit the showers, ladies. Get warm. Debrief at nineteen hundred hours. Dismissed.” The young women stared at Anderson’s dead body. No one moved.
“I said dismissed!”
Snapped from their stupor, the young women helped their friends up and shuffled toward the locker room. Tight-lipped, Commander Diaz watched them leave. Smith stood up and walked away with the other cadets. Ace listened as they left.
“I didn’t think they were serious when they said some people wouldn’t survive bootcamp.”
“She just threw her in.”
“Hart didn’t have to stay in the water.”
A whispered reply, “Yes, she did.”
Two corpsmen dressed in white set down a stretcher. Ace stared at them, her vision drawn in until everything else around her slowly faded, like breath into the blackness of space. Ace stood by as they moved Anderson. She reached out and grabbed the girl’s dog tags and broke the chain with a sharp jerk. One corpsman pulled a white sheet over her still open eyes. Why didn’t I close her eyes? They carried the stretcher away.
Ace stared out over the pool. The clock read 00:00. I’m alone. She looked at her hands; they were full, with thirty-four dog tags. Ace’s eyes widened in shock. Hearing wet footsteps, she stood and turned.
Every Cadet from her class stood in front of her, each freshly wounded from the injury that killed them. Bullet holes and stab wounds. Charred and mangled corpses. Deformed and destroyed young women. Cadet Amber Anderson shuffled forward, wet puddles collecting behind her with each step, her wet hair clinging to her face. Her eyes locked on to Ace.
“I’m sorry!” Ace held out the dog tags. “I’m sorry.”
A charred hand slammed another dog tag into Ace’s outstretched hands. “Don’t forget about me, Ace!” Her blond hair burned away, Smith’s bright blue eyes stood stark against the blackened and cracked skin.
Sitting up too fast, Ace tipped the parachute hammock and plummete
d to the ground. It’s not my fault! Pushing off the ground she raced to the hut door and yanked it open, the metal plate falling to the ground as she jumped through the opening. The light pierced her vision, driving sharp pain behind her eyes and into her brain. It doesn’t matter, they’re behind me. They’re all so mad at me. “I’m sorry!” She screamed. Stumbling through the woods, Ace fell, but she would not stop; red dirt clung to naked skin as she crawled across the ground. Why’s it so hot? Canada is cold. We’re in the arctic circle.
“What are you running from?” Mick’s voice rumbled through light and shadow.
“Things I can’t escape.”
Shadows washed over her.
9: Cam
Walking down the swath of cut ground, Cam could see the layers of the stratum. The ground was a meter or two of soil composite, but under that a rough, patchy layer of iron. Surface was liquid iron before it quickly cooled. Closing the distance to the strange tree grove, he saw a glint of light reflecting off something shiny. Another deposit of platinum, maybe. With renewed interest, he continued forward.
Grunts and snorting stopped Cam. Dropping prone, he looked through the scope of his rifle toward the noise. Past the empty space between the branches, he saw a strange mammal-like vertebrate species tearing at the ground with its tusks, sorting through the dirt with its trunk and eating six-legged insects that were nearly half a foot long.
Slowly, without making a sound, Cam pulled his personal recorder up and tapped the record button. “Would you look at that Calvin,” he whispered. “It looks like an elephant the size of a pig. It's foragin’ for those bugs.” He zoomed in. “See how thick that insect’s exoskeleton is? It protects the bugs from rivals and predators. Most critters here will have sharp teeth and claws, due to the ferrous nature of life here. But those… uh—” he grinned, “—those Susaderms, probably developed those crushing maws to be able to eat them. That’s pretty cool, huh? Alright, let's get a closer look.” Setting the recorder up facing the creature, Cam quietly ejected the magazine and cleared the chamber. Slipping the bullet into the magazine, he traded it for another from his belt. He adeptly loaded the rifle with tranquilizer darts.
