Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “I hope you’ve got a good lawn chair and a nice view then, Sergeant.” With a smile, she left the cockpit and went to find Dr. Petrovsky for her daily checkup.

  2nd Lt Darren Cormack

  Planetfall +12 days, late morning

  Eight miles northeast of sleeper pod seven site

  The stench of rotting flesh assailed Darren’s nostrils as he staggered along the row of bodies, hidden out of sight far away from the encampment. His feet dug minute trenches as they dragged through the dirt, and as he drew near, he had to pause for a moment to keep his stomach in check. He made a mental count as he passed each cairn that served as a headstone, making sure that what he had heard from Brett was accurate. At the end of the row sat an open grave with two bodies, resting at the feet of two grim looking, sweaty men with shovels.

  Thirteen total. Damn.

  Almost one in ten of the survivors from pod seven now lay dead at his feet, their bodies ravaged and finally broken by the illness that ran rampant through their ranks. He knew well the suffering they had encountered before their deaths; Darren himself had been gripped by the disease, and at times, felt as if he was only inches away from death’s door. But the fever had broken yesterday, and while he was not as strong as before the ordeal, he was out of danger and recovering physically.

  Darren’s emotions were a different matter, however. The walk he took put a human face on the issue that he had tried so desperately to reduce to a calculation. He could not ignore the devastation that he knew weighed on the families of the victims. He also understood in a very real way that these thirteen dead colonists were his responsibility, and that his actions since planetfall had ended in the death of each one. He turned away after his eyes fell across faces staring lifelessly back from the grave. They were those of a young mother and one of her two sons – the very same that he had met days earlier under the shade of a palm.

  He was only four. His brother has lost everyone he knows.

  He’d seen enough; it was time to go back to camp and check in with Brett and his patients. “Close it up,” he said as he began to walk away. Darren’s skin crawled as he hurried away from the eerie rhapsody of burial made by the dirt and rocks as they rasped on the heads of the shovels. He mounted the knoll and made his way over the series of bumps and troughs that covered the quarter mile or so between the grave and the quarantine at the rear of the encampment.

  The quarantine area had grown to cover nearly a third of the total encampment. The ill were strewn about the ground like logs, haphazard and almost random. They would be placed in the shade when brought back for care, but would invariably crawl or be dragged from one spot to another as the shade marched along the ground, or when their patch of earth had become too toxic from vomit and feces. The smells of the quarantine area had also become far viler. The stench of bodily functions, in their current concentration, would carry with someone for almost an hour after leaving the area.

  The only mercy of this horror was that the local jungle cats finally seemed to stop trying to make meals out of the colonists. Whether this was because the stench was just too great or because so many cats had been shot in defense, Darren could not possibly know. Like all blessings that came on this planet, however, there was a downside; a species of rodents had showed up and begun scavenging the camp with near reckless abandon. The creatures were about the size of rats, though nearly completely devoid of fur. Their tails were twice as long as their cousins from Earth, and they had no fear of humans whatsoever. Darren had to resort to stockpiling their dwindling rations in one pile, and setting two people to guard them.

  He shook his head at the sorry state of their refuge, and then sought out Brett. He found the nurse tending to a sick passenger; the patient was a once portly man who was a ghost of his former self after fighting with the disease for two days. He didn’t quite look emaciated, but he had certainly lost a great deal of weight through his ordeal. Darren waited for Brett to finish, and then beckoned him over.

  “How are you feeling?” Brett asked as he joined Darren.

  “Functional,” he replied. Alone, broken, guilty, he thought.

  “Hmph. I guess that’s as straight an answer as I can expect.”

  Darren ignored the jab. “What’s our status today?”

  “Well, you’ll be glad to know that Hank is finally better. I’ve let him and a few others go from quarantine. We’ve also got only one new case today, which is pretty good.”

  “Agreed. What about our food…”

  “Lieutenant Cormack!” a harsh voice yelled from his right. Darren and Brett spun around to find the source of the disturbance, which was from none other than his lead scout, Hank Adams, and a group of a dozen angry looking survivors.

  Shit, this can’t be good.

  “Hank? What the hell is this?” he asked, putting a scowl on his face.

  “It’s time for us to pack up and go.” The crowd gathered behind Hank muttered and shouted in agreement.

  “We can’t go.” Darren pointed emphatically at a group of ill lying on the ground just a few feet away, their loved ones kneeling at their sides. “We can’t move the sick.”

  “Leave them,” yelled a voice from the disgruntled throng. “We don’t want to sit here and die waiting for them to do the same.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” A short, middle-aged woman with mud caked skin and tangled brown curls screamed as she stormed over from the group of patients. “My husband is dying and you want to run off? You fucking chicken.”

  The target of her ire pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He wore the tattered remnants of the shirt he was wearing when the pod landed, and his jeans were torn and stained brown from the dirt. He glared at the woman with intense brown eyes. “Give it up. He’s as good as dead. I don’t want to join him just because you and the lieutenant can’t see what’s going on here.”

  By this time, the argument had attracted the attention of much of the camp. Two groups formed in arcs on either side of Darren and Brett; one seemed to be comprised of the loved ones of the sick, the other mostly by those who had not been affected or who had already recovered.

  A man from the group defending the ill retorted, “You’ve got to be kidding me. We stayed here while Hank was sick. Same for Lorenzo and Nina. You can’t just decide you want to leave now.”

  That group erupted in cheers and affirmations, while the other hurled back insults and taunts. Soon there gestures exchanged between both sides, and the noise escalated. Only a few voices could be heard over the din.

  “No one else should be forced to stay and get sick!”

  “What makes you think you have the right to decide for the rest of us?”

  “Let it go. Save yourself.”

  “Heartless jerk!”

  “Quiet!” Darren bellowed at the top of his lungs. Almost instantly, both sides fell silent, and their heads swept to him in a wave. “We can’t be at each others’ throats like this.”

  He knew at once that he would be forced to make a decision. The way that both sides looked at him, pleading with their eyes, told him that, and either way it wouldn’t be pretty. He began to collect his thoughts, but the pressure of their collective stare made it hard for him to concentrate.

  Hank broke the silence. “At least give us the guns and let us go on our own.”

  “Are you nuts? We need them to protect our families,” the brunette lady opposing him shrieked.

  “From what, the rats?”

  “The cats, moron.”

  “The last time we saw one of them anywhere near camp was two days ago,” Hank snarled back. His cheeks grew rosier and it seemed as if he was panting. Darrin knew that the scout was becoming very agitated, and the insult would do nothing to help.

  “Please, let’s all calm down for just a second.”

  “Calm down my ass,” yelled Lorenzo from near the back of the pack. “Let’s go, Hank. Leave these idiots here to ge
t sick and die. I’ve wasted enough time with them. Just grab the guns and food and let’s go.”

  Shit, they’re serious.

  “Wait,” Darren blurted. Silence fell as all attention was on him once more. Almost before he could think it through, the words came out. “Anyone who wants to go should go. Anyone who wants to stay can. But we leave two rifles and half of the food behind.”

  “We?” asked Brett. “You’re leaving us behind?”

  “I am,” he admitted. The shame of abandoning the helpless began to gnaw away at his insides. “We haven’t heard from Sergeant Daniels or anyone from the other pods. At this point, I think I need to go on and try to get help from Lieutenant Marsolek.”

  “But we need you here,” he protested.

  “No, I can’t do anything to help you here. You’re needed here, not me.”

  “Just give me another day.”

  “You can have as many as you want if you choose to stay behind.”

  Brett’s eyes opened wide and his jaw slacked. “What? Are you serious?”

  “I am. You have the option. I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to do, though.”

  Brett nodded and turned away, back to his patients.

  Darren looked around at the two crowds. Those who championed leaving were congratulating each other, sharing laughs, and patting each other on the backs. The display sickened Darren, and he shook his head. The other crowd merely turned their backs, glared, and muttered to each other as they returned to their ill family members. Darren’s guilt stabbed him in the gut, and he second guessed his decision.

  Maybe I should stay with them, he thought. It’s cruel enough having the others abandon them, but me? He shook off the thought. No, I’m more useful going to Marsolek to get help.

  Darren dragged his feet as he wandered away from the camp and back to the graves. His conscience screamed at him, beating him from within. His chest tightened and his breathing became shallow. The grave diggers nodded at him in passing on their way back, but he did not acknowledge them, only listening to his own guilt tearing at him. Darren stopped at the top of the berm just above the grave and looked down at the two fresh cairns, lined up with the previous eleven.

  What the hell have I done? I tried so hard to keep everyone safe, and these people died. Now I’m throwing away the lives of others? Darren drew his hands through his hair, closing them around his mane and pulling until it hurt. I’m supposed to protect people. That’s my job.

  “Rough day?” Hank asked, startling Darren. He wheeled around to face the scout.

  “You,” he spat.

  Hank put his arms out to his side, palms up, as if to offer peace. “Take it easy. I don’t like what I did either, and I’m sorry that played out the way it did.”

  “You could have stopped it. Instead you led it.”

  The scout let out a scoffing laugh. “You have no idea that I just saved your life, do you?”

  Darren paused as he absorbed the question. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Those guys actually wanted to take you out. I convinced them to let you have your choice. Either way, they were walking away with food and guns. Some of them are just plain nuts, man. They’ve seen too much death, and they’re scared. I can’t blame their fears, but I think Lorenzo is about to snap. If we don’t get him out of here soon he might just execute all the patients.”

  A chill ran down Darren’s spine. “Are you serious?”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter what you think about what I’ve done. I’m with you, man. We need to keep these people safe. I’m a bit worried that you’re not seeing the whole picture here. Just let me help you, okay?”

  “And what about those we’re leaving behind? How are we helping them?”

  “By giving them a chance, thanks to you,” Hank smiled. “Food and rifles. I talked to Brett real quickly after you wandered off. He thinks that in a day, pretty much everyone who is sick will be recovering.”

  “Or dead,” Darren interrupted.

  Hank ignored him and continued. “Brett says they’ll be walking wounded at that point, but they should be able to follow us. All he wants is for us to leave an obvious trail. If that’s all it takes, I’ll do it myself.”

  Darren began the trek back to camp, and Hank fell in at his side. “It’s not like I have a choice any more. Make sure you’ve got whatever tools you need to mark the path for the others.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it covered.”

  Easier said than done.

  Capt Haruka Kimura

  Planetfall +14 days, midday

  Camp Eight

  She heard the distant cracking noise, followed a second later by the crash.

  Another one down, she thought. From where Haruka sat – in the shade of the trees just behind the sleeper pod – she could not see the work progressing on the short hill just south of the river and east of the crashed pod. Short was a relative term, as well. It was actually one of the tallest hills for miles around, but as most other hills were less than fifty feet tall, the lofty hundred and fifty feet that this peak reached would have been short compared to most hills on Earth.

  Dr. Petrovsky placed his fingers on her wrist, bringing her attention back to the daily checkup. The past two days had been better for her; her energy was returning, and the doctor had expressed cautious optimism about her condition. Still, having to take the time out of her day to be checked seemed to be a waste. There were dozens of other things that came to mind that she could be doing instead.

  “When do you get to stop fussing over me?” she asked.

  His chubby face stretched into a cheeky smile. “When I feel that I’ve tortured you enough. When will you command types ever learn that you don’t get to duck away from the doctor, eh?”

  Haruka chucked. “You sound just like Emilia.”

  “No doubt. We’re all trained the same way: to annoy you. You should have figured that out by now. Show me your arms, please.” Haruka sighed and slid the sleeves of her flight suit up as far as they would go. Dr. Petrovsky gently took her left arm by the elbow and squinted as he examined it more closely. “I want you to take it easy today. This arm’s looking a little worse for wear today.”

  Her smile quickly disappeared and she growled in irritation. She then turned her lower lip out in a pout and used her brown eyes to try to sway the doctor.

  “Nuh uh. That’s not going to work on me, Captain.”

  Haruka sighed. “I need to go up to the work site and do an inspection,” she protested.

  “Oh, you can do that. But so help me, if I hear about you picking up a saw again, I’ll have Leight lash you to a bunk for two days.”

  “Oh? Who tattled on me?”

  “I’m not naming my sources,” the doctor replied with a wry grin.

  Damn it. Being treated like an invalid was starting to wear on her nerves, but having someone in camp spying on her and reporting to the doctor was a little added salt in the wound. Haruka needed to be useful, and she wasn’t getting that just by walking around from place to place.

  She was just about to try to extract the information from Dr. Petrovsky again when a chorus of cheers rose up from the beach. She turned her head, but the trees obstructed her view, so she jumped to her feet and scrambled down the embankment onto the beach. A large group of pod eleven survivors were running up the beach and collecting in a circle a few hundred feet away. Haruka jogged through the sand with Petrovsky on her heels, calling out to her to slow down.

  “Doctor,” she yelled back as the crowd began to depart. Through the wall of bodies she could see another mass of bodies, headed by Troy Bryant and Will Vandemark. The younger man had numerous cuts on his face and hands, and walked with a stiff limp. He no longer carried his rifle; the fact that Troy had two led her to believe that somewhere along the way he had lightened Will’s load.

  “My God,” Petrovsky exclaimed as they reached the pack and saw almost a hundred bedraggled survivors stumbling and
dragging their bodies down the beach toward the pod.

  “Troy,” Haruka called out. “Go get Emilia!”

  He nodded and bolted for the pod. The crowd on the beach parted, allowing the new arrivals a wide berth. Haruka grabbed Will’s hand when he tripped as he walked past her.

  “I’m okay,” he muttered breathlessly as Haruka helped him to his feet. Her eyes met Will’s sister, Kelly. Her hands were cupped over her mouth, and a tear formed in the corner of her eye.

  “Kelly, go get your dad, quickly!” she barked. Kelly shot off for the hill as quickly as her awkward teenage legs would carry her. Haruka helped Will to the bottom of the pod’s ramp and eased him down slowly into the sand. “What happened?”

  It took a minute for him to settle down enough to speak, though his hands still trembled. “There was a storm.”

  Damn. They got caught out in it.

  Emilia charged down the ramp with a medical kit and knelt beside Will. She started to check him over, but he pulled back his arm and waved her off. “I’m fine. Go take care of the others.”

  “Will, you’re hurt. Let her take a look.”

  “Really, I’m fine. There are others who are hurt worse.”

  Like his father. Others before self. Haruka nodded to Emilia, who began to check others in the group that quickly filled the beach near the pod. Troy took only a second to replace Emilia at the side of Will.

  “We caught up with them last night, across the river and a couple miles up the beach,” Troy said. “Looked like hell when we found them. Out of food too, so we gave them all of ours.”

  Haruka nodded. “Good work, Troy. Do you have a head count?”

  “Yeah, Captain. We lost one of our own from Will’s group. It was Eckert. Damn shame.”

  Eckert. The team leader, married with a little girl, and a skilled carpenter. Fuck.

  “A huge loss,” Haruka replied solemnly.

  “As for the folks from pod ten that our people rescued,” Troy continued, “two dead in the storm. Ninety one made it back here.”