Eternal Frontier (The Eternal Frontier Book 1)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  He left the lab. Once in the med bay, he locked the hatches to the lab in hopes that the extra security measures would stand up to Alpha if the droid woke in an uncontrollable rage and tore itself free from the manacles holding it to the exam table.

  The next couple of days went by in a steady blur. Tag spent his time checking and rechecking his equipment for his adventure into the wild tundra of Eta-Five. He ensured his EVA suit’s wrist terminal was loaded with all the necessary information on Eta-Five, which turned out to be a disappointingly meager amount. From the Argo’s data stores, he scrounged up a rudimentary map and a pointer indicating where he would meet Lieutenant Vasquez. But other than that, he found little on expected weather patterns or the flora and fauna of the planet.

  One look outside the bridge viewport made him think that maybe there was no such information to be had.

  Weather: frigid, constantly.

  Life: nothing except for a stranded medical officer and a killer synth-bio unit he’d created. Plus, he guessed, some crazy alien species Vasquez had foolishly decided to study here.

  He shook his head. But the SRE navy wouldn’t have sent an anthropologist out to study a desolate planet full of some creatures strange enough to call this arctic paradise home. There must be something else here of interest that she hadn’t reported—or maybe it was just classified. Right?

  He trod to the cargo bay and the pile of gear he’d gathered near the hatch. After donning the EVA suit he’d scrapped together, he took a deep breath and opened the hatch. The change in pressure threatened to pull him from the passageway and into the compromised cargo bay. He braced himself then rushed to drag the crates of emergency food and medical supplies, along with his weapons, into the cargo bay before sealing the hatch once again. Small gauges on his heads-up display within the EVA suit reported the air was a balmy -55 degrees Centigrade.

  Snow and ice had blown in from the ruptured hull. He recognized a particular snowdrift as the air car, buried under the white fluff. The sensor arrays stated the oxygen concentration was 11.5 percent. That meant mental impairment and unbearable fatigue should Tag lose access to his EVA’s oxygen supply.

  A shiver snuck through him. He wondered what would be worse, freezing to death or dying a slow death from oxygen deprivation. Neither seemed particularly intriguing. He forced himself past his morbid thoughts and unburied the air car. One by one, he loaded each of the crates and bags within the car.

  Once the car was ready, he could delay the inevitable no longer. Vasquez, if she was still alive, would be waiting for the Argo. She’d no doubt be disappointed at the lackluster rendezvous committee, but at least Tag wouldn’t be abandoning her on Eta-Five. Who knew? Maybe she’d prefer to die with him aboard the Argo rather than being stuck out there in the snow and ice.

  Tag ducked into the air car and started its engine. The car growled to life and pushed itself off the deck, hovering about a meter above the snow and ice blowing through the bay. Another push of a button activated the doors to the now-purposeless airlock of the Argo’s cargo bay. He drove into the waiting chamber and initiated the automatic depressurizing process. It didn’t take long given the ruptured cargo bay atmosphere already matched the low atmospheric pressure on Eta-Five.

  The hatch opened, parting sideways. Snow and ice blew against the windshield, and Tag swore he could feel the icy chill despite the controlled atmosphere within the air car. Blue light flooded in, tinged by the strange clouds drifting overhead. Tag throttled the air car and burst out of the Argo, through an accumulating snow bank, and onto Eta-Five’s surface.

  A small holoprojection glowed red near the windshield. It displayed his location along with that of the rendezvous point almost three hundred klicks away. He started the air car forward. Harsh winds shook and jostled the vehicle. His grip around the wheel tightened, and his arms strained as he fought against the strong wind’s attempt to throw him off course.

  “Here I come, Vasquez,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I hope you’ve got better news for me than I have for you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Through the polyglass windshield and windows, Tag gawked at the landscape expanding before him, where tall spires of rock and ice broke the waves of white snow drifts stretching to the horizon. Tornadoes of snow and frost spun under the green and blue flashes of lightning cracking from the blanket of clouds. Spears of sunlight from Eta periodically pierced through the dense cloud coverage, appearing like pathways straight to the heavens.

  Each time a gust of harsh wind buffeted the air car, he struggled with the controls to keep the vehicle pointed toward the rendezvous point. He was helpless as a fly caught in a thunderstorm, but even surrounded by this dangerous new place and whatever mysteries it held, he couldn’t help feeling awe at the alien environment around him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed a sky. It might not be filled with the azures and whites of an earth sky, but it was still a sky, not ribbed alloy corridors, bulkheads, and the occasional porthole with a view of distant stars.

  No, for the first time since he’d left Earth on assignment with the Argo years ago, he was no longer trapped inside a spaceship or a space station. He was back in the wilderness. True, unadulterated wilderness.

  Against every logical part of his brain telling him it was foolish, he wanted to jump out of the car and into that snow. He wanted to watch the white fluff trickle between his fingers. He wanted to know what it was like to have his boots on the ground. Real ground.

  But his want to stay alive was stronger, and he remained in the air car, fighting against the wind.

  Ice crystals pinged on the windshield. The constant tinkle of the little crystals and the howl of wind were his only companions as he drove between two towering spires. Their shadows loomed over him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him and guarding this planet from intruders. That at any moment, they might come tumbling down to bury him in ice and rock.

  A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he passed them without incident. Before him was an enormous, wide river. Its surface was frozen, but the ice was so clear he saw water moving far beneath it. The river snaked across his path. He guided the air car over it. Unsheltered by the ice and rock formations, the car shuddered. A strong blast of wind knocked it off course, and the car spun sideways.

  Tag held tight to the controls while throttling the car. It shook and bucked, as if it were a living thing telling him to give up. To give in to the wind. That this planet would win any fight, any attempt to survive.

  Adrenaline continued surging through his veins, making his fingers shake. He reminded himself to unclench his jaw, and he corrected his course once again to point westward, where a line of mountains protruded along the other side of the river. A small tributary led from the mountains to the river. It seemed to wind under the rock and ice spires near the mouth of a canyon.

  He drove, following the tributary, and plunged into the canyon, taking shelter from the winds. His anxiety settled as the drive became easier and he could breathe normally again. He continued on for some time until he grew accustomed to the relative peace and loosened his grip on the steering controls. The small patches of sunlight that trickled through the clouds refracted through the icy formations that stretched over Tag like a tunnel. The light cast a blue, ethereal glow. It was a striking, beautiful vista. He couldn’t help wondering what all this would be like should the ice melt and the rivers flow free.

  A distant rumble caught his ears, ending his daydreaming. He craned his neck, searching for the cause of the noise. But with the ice and rock stretching above him, he couldn’t see outside the narrow perspective granted to him at the bottom of the canyon. The rumble growled louder. His heart thundered against his injured ribs, and his nerves lit up. The rumble turned to a roar. It was as if Eta-Five was a giant waking from its slumbers, and it had found him, an intruder, lurking in its midst.

  “What now?” Tag said, still looking for the source of the din.

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nbsp; Then he spotted it through a crack in the ice and rock. Distant plumes of soft white spurted into the blue, gray, and green sky, and he saw the tops of the mountains. They were shifting, moving. No, not the mountains. The snow.

  “Avalanche!”

  He saw no nearby shelter from the incoming snow and ice tumbling down the mountainside. There were only two options. Race back to the safety of the Argo? Or risk going forward, making progress, and closing the gap to the rendezvous?

  Tag didn’t spend time deliberating and put the car in full throttle. The vehicle shot forward, racing between crags of ice and rock through the ravine. The roar of the avalanche grew louder and louder. Almost deafening. Ice and snow zipped past him in a blur of white and blue. He hunched over the controls, sweat dripping over his forehead, but he didn’t take his hands off the controls to clear it, choosing instead to race on.

  A massive crack echoed around him. It sounded as though lightning had blasted into the ground near him. But this was no arc of electricity. A tidal wave of snow exploded through the ice and stone formations along the tributary. The avalanche quickly filled the gully behind him and rolled after him.

  And it was gaining.

  He curved around a rock sticking up from the frozen river. Every time he maneuvered to avoid an obstacle, he lost a bit of forward velocity. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him worry.

  Snow and ice piled behind him. He kept the car at full throttle. The edge of the tsunami of snow, ice, and rocks was meters from the rear of the car.

  He stared through the windshield before him, ready to dodge the next obstacle. But when he could, he stole a glance through the towering ice and rock structures, looking for any exit. Any way out. Anything to avoid being devoured by Eta-Five.

  Then he heard something else—an almost deafening explosion and a flash of light.

  His pupils adjusted to the rapid change, and he twisted the controls when he saw a boulder sitting in his path. The side of the car scraped against the rock, letting out a jarring noise. The air car bobbed, knocked off its hovering trajectory.

  Another blast echoed over the ravine, through the tunnel of snow and rock, and pierced the cacophony of the avalanche. Whatever was responsible for that explosive sound, Tag hoped he didn’t have to face it. He had enough to worry about with the oncoming avalanche.

  The meager headlights of the air car illuminated his path forward, no longer shining over solid, craggy rocks.

  There it was! An exit from the icy tunnel!

  The jumble of snow and ice was still chasing him, rumbling. He dodged another icy stalagmite and a patch of sharp rocks. Then the tunnel spit him out. Snow and ice sprayed behind him as the power of the avalanche dissipated, and it spread over the terrain Tag found himself in. He was free from the avalanche, free from its hungry chase.

  But it didn’t take long for fear to etch its way into his mind again. He saw now what had caused the deafening blasts and what must have been responsible for starting the avalanche in the first place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  It was the most terrifying thunderstorm Tag had ever seen. Arcs of blue and green lightning webbed across the sky as if the whole atmosphere was cracking and falling apart in shards. The vicious light show exploded in volleys over the tundra, followed by deafening, throaty rumbles that seemed to crash on Tag from all sides at once. He pressed on through the terrifying display.

  The occasional mammoth stalagmite of ice and rock broke the rolling landscape. Snowdrifts rolled over the terrain like ever-shifting sand dunes. It was almost as if the canyon had delivered him to a brilliant white desert.

  Wind howled over the air car, carrying with it a strange mixture of fist-sized hail and snow. Tag winced each time an ice chunk slammed into the car. The vehicle was made to withstand small-arms fire and take a beating exploring unknown territories, but he still found it difficult to believe it would survive the pounding it was enduring now.

  Each smack of hail against the car echoed in the cabin like the concussive blast of an energy cannon. Still, those noises paled in comparison to the roar of thunder tearing through the heavens as another barrage of lightning danced across the tundra. The thunder resonated through the car and into the wheel, shaking Tag’s fingers.

  Or maybe it was just fear causing his fingers to tremble. This display of raw power terrified him almost more than the pirates had. He watched icy spires fall apart in the blasts of wind as more waves of snow shifted, falling in sheets from the mountains behind him.

  His eyes scanned the holoprojection from the air car’s terminal. He needed shelter, protection. Anything.

  The bare-bones map hardly gave accurate contour lines. It was next to useless. All he really saw was the glaring red dot that signified the rendezvous point with Vasquez, giving him nothing else to do but point the car in that direction.

  A gust of wind caught the car, so powerful and harsh that it threw the vehicle onto the ground and off its hovering path. The crunch of metal against ice made Tag wince, and he braced himself as the wind picked up the car and tossed it toward a crumbling stalagmite. He strained against the relentless winds. But he found he couldn’t fight it. The effort was futile.

  Instead, he directed the car perpendicular to the wind’s vector. As it pushed him sideways, at least he could move forward or backward enough to dodge the formidable ice and rock formations. He continued like this, battered by the elements, making slow progress. When the winds died down—which they seemed to do infrequently—he powered the car across the snowy plain, desperate to reach some modicum of shelter. Somewhere to wait out this storm.

  It appeared as if the tundra would never end. Nor would the storm. More lightning exploded overhead, and thunder assaulted his eardrums. He almost let out a maniacal laugh, barely containing his own sanity. Who in the three hells is Vasquez trying to study on this planet? he wondered. How could anything live here? Eta-Five was like a hungry animal itself, ready to chew life up and spit it out.

  Tag wondered if he’d ever actually find Vasquez alive. Maybe she’d been buried by the snow and ice long ago. There would be no evidence she’d ever been here. Maybe everything was pointless.

  But as he pressed on, struggling and desperate, the storm soon gave way to a strangely peaceful calm. Snow still fell, but only in gentle waves. Winds carried the snowflakes, allowing them to dance across the car’s windshield. And gentle snowflakes were the only things the winds seem to carry now. The gusts became soft whispers over the car, no longer intent on smashing it against the impressive stalagmites. The cloud cover remained but dissipated enough to let that characteristic Eta-Five ethereal blue glow of light bathe the planet.

  From hell to heaven in minutes.

  Tag chugged onward, wondering how long his luck would hold.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The allure of being under an open sky and outside a cramped ship no longer held the same power over Tag. Eta-Five had attempted to kill him too many times in the past several hours for him to enjoy the solitude of night settling over the planet.

  The light filtering through the clouds slowly dissipated. One of Eta-Five’s three moons peeked through a small gap in the cloud coverage, casting a ghoulish glow over the tundra. Tag’s stomach growled, and his eyelids drooped. Without adrenaline surging through him, every muscle seemed fatigued and cramped from his constant battle against the elements.

  And still, he had more than one hundred klicks to go until he reached the rendezvous point. He couldn’t let exhaustion defeat him. He didn’t know what dangers lurked in the night. Trying to steal sleep here on the snowdrifts meant a storm could catch him unaware. It would only take a few seconds for those powerful winds to dash the air car against a spire of rocks and ice.

  The snow seemed supernaturally bright. Almost beautiful. Almost. Tag was now well accustomed to the dangers that lurked within that beauty.

  He increased the intensity of the car’s headlights, and swathes of light broke through th
e murkiness in front of the hovering vehicle. He drove on, listening to the hum of the engine and the whistle of the wind. As he stared off in the distance, the drive became almost hypnotic, the landscape blurring together.

  His head drooped and nodded forward, his chin tucked to his chest. He jolted himself awake and tried to shake the sleepiness off, but his aching limbs and injuries urged him to rest. Instead, he parked the air car, allowing it to hover in place. He told himself he wouldn’t stand still for long. He dug through his supplies and found a packet of dehydrated swill the SRE navy generously called coffee.

  He emptied the packet into a self-heating thermos and then added water. The first sip of coffee started to revitalize him. Warmth spread from his esophagus and stomach through his chest and limbs as he downed the hot drink.

  “Why did you come here, Vasquez?” he asked Eta-Five, shaking his head.

  Most extraterrestrial anthropologist missions were shrouded in secrecy. Who knew what new technologies or races existed that the SRE navy might be able to adapt for its own uses? It seemed the policy was to study new lifeforms—or investigate the possibility of new lifeforms—on distant planets and only tell the general populace what they’d found if the aliens or technologies turned out to be useless to the SRE. Tag knew it was a sad state of colonial expansion, but what could you do?

  He took another gulp of coffee.

  Too many groups had tried to rebel and splinter off from the SRE precisely because they’d found some ancient alien technology or found new alien allies they could use to defeat the SRE. In fact, that was how the SRE had subverted power from the United Nations. The discovery of a ship with faster-than-light capabilities changed the face of interstellar exploration, communications, and warfare in one fell swoop. The SRE had been the lucky lottery winners to find the ship, develop the technology for human ships, and use it to overwhelm the UN on Earth. The UN had had no choice but to let the SRE envelop them.