Errant Contact

by T. Michael Ford

  Errant Contact

  By T Michael Ford

  For the release of my fifth book and first science fiction novel, I would like to thank the individuals who have stood by me and supported me the entire time. First and foremost, I would like to thank my Father. His aid, attention to detail, and creative suggestions have once again given me the inspiration and drive I needed to finish. Second, I would like to thank Betty, my editor, who had an even more difficult time with this one than any of the others, sorry Betty.

  I would like to thank Nero Bernales for his amazing work on the cover. Thank you again Nero!

  Then there are my beta readers, who once again threw their ‘constructive’ feedback right at me. Some of it I followed and some of it I didn’t, but I never questioned their commitment to make each book the best possible. Seriously, thank you, guys! So thank you Cathy, George, Kelly and Mandy for all your hard work. And last, but not least, I would like to thank everyone who supported my first fantasy series at launch. It means a lot to me that you took the time to write a review or post on the author’s page. I love to hear from you guys, and your kind words and suggestions definitely kept me going; I really hope you like guys like my first stab at science fiction, Erant Contact.

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, situations and events portrayed in this novel are from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form, electronic or mechanical without expressed written permission from T. Michael Ford.

  No actual marmots were harmed in the writing of this book.

  Copyright © 2015 T. Michael Ford

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilog

  Chapter 1

  “Faster, Laree, they’re gaining on us!”

  I shifted uncomfortably in the saddle of the two-wheeled, all-terrain rover as I fought to control the wildly plunging handlebars. These ATV units are damn tough, but they were never designed to maintain this rate of speed over the six-inch, iron-hard tree roots that stretched across the uneven, mixed forest floor.

  The rough, jarring ride threatened to send my brother Max and me off the back end at any moment. Of course, the fact that he was fiddling with a weapon instead of hanging on just confirmed my long-standing contention that Max was an idiot.

  Looking down, I noticed my front tire was starting to cast off chunks of material. So much for the manufacturer’s claims of indestructibility. I could only imagine the back tire was taking similar damage, and the imbalanced wheels added a queasy rolling factor to the ride. For a second, I was taken back to the memory of a warm summer’s boat ride when we were kids. A squall had kicked up, and the resulting seasickness made me promise to forever keep my feet solidly on terra firma. Chuckling uneasily to myself, I wondered if today was going to be the tragic payback for breaking that vow.

  Another punishing jolt that threatened to loosen my back teeth brought me back to the present. This most certainly wasn’t terra firma. We were, in fact, more than a hundred light years distant from the Emerald Planet thanks to the limit point continuum technology that enabled mankind’s vessels to reach out far beyond the stars visible to the naked eye on Earth.

  The astral navigators aboard our research vessel, the Geoffrey Laird, had whimsically named this place “Fleece.” The Jeff, as her crew of 126 call her, was named after one of the more obscure board members of the powerful Pendacis Corporation. Not as awe inspiring as ship names of the past like Ark Royale, Constitution, or Enterprise, but it did bring into sharp focus who the powers-that-be in the known human universe really were – the corporations.

  The Jeff was one of a dozen small vessels that ranged out in search of planets and resources to claim. A military fleet sheep-dogged a few weeks behind us. Our job was to find, evaluate, and plant our digital corporate flag into the soil of every piece of rock that appeared to have commercial value, be it for future colonization, mineral wealth, or any of a hundred obscure criteria that “Mother” Pendacis deemed useful.

  A planet like this, which already had a breathable atmosphere and was capable of supporting life, was a unique find. Unique enough to drop a four-member research team off for a more in-depth analysis.

  Off to my immediate right, a flash of bone-colored white caught my eye as a creature burst out of a deadfall not far away. If it had been standing flat-footed, it would still have been taller than I am across its back. More adrenaline entered into my bloodstream, but being a nerd at heart, I couldn’t help but see the wonder of it. From a scientific standpoint, it was an astounding specimen. Four-legged, it galloped like a racehorse on an intercept vector, its huge slavering jaws and blue tongue lolling alongside as it ran toward us. Instead of fur, the behemoth was covered in interwoven tufts of coarse mineral strings that layered back along its length and moved in a scintillating pattern as it ran. The eyes, when visible, were four in number. My curious mind wondered if they were all for vision or if a pair were dedicated to other functions or spectrums.

  As it drew closer and closer, curiosity fled, and genuine fear took over. Gunning the electric motor even more viciously, I tried to outrun it, desperate to catch up to the other bike just ahead piloted by our mission leader, Drik. Yep, it was official; this planet that they had nicknamed Fleece was officially trying to kill us.

  The soft building whine of a caster rifle behind me and the sudden crack of a discharge made me glance across at the creature. It was much too fast to see, but a high-velocity pellet that changed into an encapsulated searing plasma ball upon leaving the caster barrel struck the beast in the side…and slid off like rain off a duck.

  Max attempted a snap second shot, but as luck would have it, the bike dipped into a depression just as he fired. Instead of a center mass hit, the round struck the creature’s back leg and somehow lodged in a depression in its hock, sticking to it stubbornly. With an almost human yelp of pain and surprise, it went down and flopped spastically in the trail, trying to bite at the cause of its agony. It was a lucky shot to be sure; the others fired at the beasts had just been shrugged off. A few moments later, the full pack that had been chasing us for several miles stopped abruptly and circled their wounded packmate. Thankful for the brief respite, I turned my attention away from the bike’s rear camera to the future.

  Fleece had seemed like a harmless enough place from the safety of a geosynchronous orbit around the planet. It showed no indigenous population of anything remotely civilized, no fire building, no land under cultivation. Just extensive forests in the lowlands, grass-covered hills accounting for the mid-range altitudes, and at the very peaks, either active or dormant volcanic activity. The only population of life worth noting seemed to be the herds of fifteen-foot tall, silver-hued, curly-haired herbivores that grazed disinterestedly on the grassy slopes.

  The less-than-scientific bridge crew of the Geoffrey Laird immediately labeled t
hem “BAS” for short or “Big Ass Sheep” with a snide snicker for a longer explanation. With a tight schedule to keep, the ship had quickly dispatched our four-member survey crew to the surface. The captain had waited just long enough for a high hide and a rudimentary base camp to be set up before he ordered the Jeff to break orbit and speed onward to its next interesting destination. He felt safe in the assumption that the planet was harmless and the high-tech security measures of camouflaging screens, laser fencing, and caster rifles would assure the survival of the shore party.

  One thing any biologist worth their salt should have realized…where there are sheep, there are invariably wolves.

  Up ahead, taking advantage of the momentary lack of pursuit, Drik slowed his rover to allow us to come abreast. With a fearful glance back over his shoulder, he tapped me on the arm and motioned to the massive tree-covered ridge ahead before shouting, “We need to find a defensible position and wait them out! We can’t allow them to keep driving us farther and farther from camp!”

  “Or what’s left of it,” Max interjected with a growl. “The hide is trashed, the communication mast is down and probably toast, and most of our supplies and equipment are strewn over a four-acre lot! Not to mention what they did to Zubkov!”

  I grimaced. Zubkov had been a last-minute addition to our party. I hadn’t even been aware he was on the Jeff until he showed up for our shuttle launch, packs in hand, and glowering silently. His shoulder patch identified him as a calibration tech, but normally “passengers” of this type are corporate security muscle and not real scientists. Still, the sight of all the blood and shreds of corporate uniform strewn over the destroyed camp left me with a sad, uncomfortable reminder that here was another son of Earth who would never be returning home.

  “No choice,” Drik asserted. “We have minimal food and bedding in these day packs. We can probably handle a day or two with what we have, but we need to hang on for two weeks until the Jeff picks us up. We’ll need to salvage what we can from the camp just to survive.” Drik stood up on the foot pegs of his rover to gain a better view of something ahead. “I see something that looks like it might be a cave mouth higher up on this ridge!”

  A chorus of loud howls behind us announced that our short break from the pack’s pursuit was over and they would be coming for us in earnest. Drik sat down heavily on the seat of his rover. He was perhaps twenty years our senior, balding and slight of frame, but he was a rock of steadiness in the field. He cranked the throttle of the rover, and the increasingly gritty sound of the electric motor threw the cycle forward toward the top of the ridge. With a sigh of resignation, I followed suit.

  It was a good thing we left when we did, as a dozen or more of the shifting white shapes broke out of the trees at a full charge less than fifty meters behind us.

  “How many shots do you have left in that thing?” I gritted, calling back to Max.

  “The indicator reads six.”

  “And the extra magazines?”

  “Back with the rest of the supplies in camp.”

  “Fantastic!” I spit out, dampening down the curse word I was about to set free. “You better hope after the sixth shot when that thing becomes a plastic stick, you can beat them off with it.”

  “Hey,” Max shouted above the screech of the electric motor’s failing bearings, “I swing a pretty mean bat when I have to.”

  Chuckling nervously, I shot back at my younger brother, “You forget I coached your little league team for a season; you sucked!” Strangely, sibling teams were desirable among human spacefarers. A study long ago concluded that husband and wife teams were recipes for disaster on extended space voyages; however, siblings were optimal. The report cited various reasons – among them, the lack of sexual tension or jealousy, and the fact that most siblings already had decades to perfect their interactions with each other.

  Maxwell managed to fire two more shots at the approaching wolves. Judging by the grousing going on behind me, it didn’t sound like he hit anything, and the monsters pressed ever closer. We were climbing rapidly up the hillside now, dodging the closer trees as much as our pursuers. The thought crossed my mind that I hoped he had the foresight to keep the last three shots for ourselves.

  Suddenly, the racket of Drik’s machine cut off. A dozen meters ahead, he laid the bike down at the entrance to what looked like the black hole of a cave. He waved us forward frantically, imploring us to do the same.

  Max was off the back and whirling to face the onrushing horde before I managed to shut down the rover and flip it sideways, partially blocking the entrance. I cast around, hoping to find a branch or stick that I could use to defend myself. It was then I noticed Drik standing still facing outward in amazement. Confused, I straightened up and joined him.

  “How very strange,” our mission leader murmured and pointed down the hill. There, milling about, was the pack that had been pursuing us so relentlessly. From the four-eyed glares we were receiving, I could tell they saw us, practically defenseless and trapped. Nevertheless, it was as if an invisible fence kept them at bay and allowed them to approach no closer. Snarling and whining in obvious frustration, they sunk down to their bellies. A few of them turned angrily on each other, ripping up the sparse grasses, but it didn’t appear any blood was spilled. After a few minutes, most of them just curled up and watched us, waiting.

  “Ha…they finally learned their lesson!” Maxwell snorted, waving his caster barrel in their general direction.

  “I doubt that,” I observed. “It’s more like a conditioned response…something about this place screams danger or a warning to them. Which begs the question, what’s in this cave that a pack of drooling, four-hundred-kilogram monsters would be afraid of?” Almost afraid to look, I turned carefully and tried to get my eyes to adapt to the darkness within by focusing on the transition zone between light and darkness at the cave entrance.

  I was immediately struck by the oddity of the features I could see. It didn’t appear to be a natural geologic feature; there was no evidence of flowing water that could have carved out a hole this large. It didn’t appear magma flows were responsible, nor were there any fissures to offer a shifting plate scenario. The ground beneath our feet felt spongy, as if centuries of leaf litter and debris cushioned our every step, and thick layers of moss covered the walls.

  Human eyesight failed to penetrate any farther than two meters into the gloom without assistance. Drik held up his communicator and triggered the small light that served as both flashlight and flash for camera work. The small LED lanced into the darkness and illuminated a short distance before it too was overwhelmed.

  “Well, this is spooky,” I ventured, looking at my companions. Drik merely stood quietly as if listening for movement from the darkness within. He scowled in annoyance as Max started rummaging noisily in his pack. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, my brother hauled out what he was looking for.

  “I have exactly what we need for a situation like this.” He started breaking into a package of magnesium flares. Stripping off the waterproof sheathing, he tucked two of the long cylinders under one arm, while he broke off the activation guard and pressed the ignition cap of the third one. The flame caught instantly, and Max hurriedly tossed the burning brand deep into the cave. End over end it spun until gravity forced it down near the back wall. It did a superior job of lighting the central core of the cavern but, unfortunately, neither side. With a shrug, he activated the two remaining flares and tossed one to the left and the other to the right.

  The super bright magnesium torches finally illuminated what appeared to be a roughly sixty-meter-by-sixty-meter cavern. However, it was not empty by any means; my rational mind immediately noted the latticework of moss structures that seemed to be faux shelves and low, shattered walls. The truly odd part was the regularity of the spacing, not something usually seen in nature.

  “We best hurry our exploration,” Drik announced as he shuffled his pack onto his shoulders and advanced into the chamber. �
�As I recall, those flares are only good for ten minutes or so.”

  “I agree,” I seconded, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing; something seemed very off about all this. Throwing my own pack over my shoulder, I hurried after my mission leader, leaving Max to bring up the rear. Thin, veiled clouds of smoke from the flares were rising up and collecting near the flat, open ceiling, spreading out like a thunderhead across the cave’s top structure. I stopped for an instant and dug through some of the floor litter with my foot. A couple inches down, my boot struck something. Dropping to a knee, I excavated the dirt until I revealed what appeared to be a circular object. Metal? My rational mind informed me that there were very few naturally occurring perfect geometric shapes in nature. I tried prying it up, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Come on, Laree. Survival trumps souvenir shopping,” Drik murmured darkly, and I reluctantly left my prize for future attention.

  We had made it perhaps halfway into the cavern when a low, strangled, undulating horn sound suddenly filled the air. I spun around and noticed faint red illuminations peeking out between the mosses on what should have been the left side cave wall. With a cry, I called out for Drik to join me as I stumbled over the uneven footing toward the spot and madly attempted to scrape old-growth moss away from the structure with my bare hands. The deeper I cleared, the more pronounced the red light appeared. Finally, size and shape surfaced to our incredulous eyes.

  “Stars above, it’s a door!” Drik gasped.

  Perhaps three more minutes of intense work by the two of us excavated the hatch to the point of easy recognition, including what I assumed was the control module situated on the wall next to the frame. It struck me that this looked similar to hatches on our own ship, the Jeff. Even the control switch was mounted exactly where it should be on a human vessel and was pulsing red.

  “I don’t understand,” I murmured, brushing aside more dirt and clingy debris from the door face. At least, the symbols or lettering on the metal face looked appropriately alien and meant nothing to me. Drik just gaped in abject confusion, running his hands over the script.