A rolling squiggle near the bottom of the windshield represented the ground, and he then made several stick-like trees jutting up to the middle. Above, near where the rear view mirror would have been mounted on a regular truck, he drew two crescent moons. Four stick figures were drawn standing on the ground below, all but one with wide smiles. Cal then drew a wide, snaking river down the center of the windshield, and large, rectangular bumps on either side, with small engine bells on the rear. As a finale, he drew arced, dotted lines between the two mock sleeper ships, and rubbed several “explosions” into them. Across the top of the glass he scribbled a single phrase.
BATTLE OF CONCORDIA
Another sharp snort came from the back seat, followed by a long groan.
“Morning, Neil.”
After a short pause, Neil asked, “What time is it?”
“Just after six.”
Cal heard rustling vinyl in the back seat and felt the crawler sway slightly. Neil’s head popped up over the seat back. His hair was a chaotic, tangled mess, and his hands shook slightly as he opened his glasses and put them in place.
“Where are the ladies?”
“Probably at work already. They were gone when I woke up a few minutes ago.”
Neil’s hands raked through his hair as he attempted to tame the thick mat. His eyes looked forward at the windshield, and a grin crept across his face.
“Are we declaring war on the other ship?”
“It had to happen,” Cal replied dryly. “I was getting bored. They were getting too relaxed. It was time for a sneak attack. And soon we shall rule all of Demeter.”
“Good for you. Did they have better food over there?”
“More of your favorite.” Cal opened the cavernous center console that separated the driver and passenger seat and fished out two brown pouches. “Space rations. Certified nutritious, and oh so delicious.”
Neil let out a disappointed groan as he took a meal pack from Cal. “Can’t I just eat Elaine’s plant samples? I don’t care if they’re poisonous. At least I’ll die a slightly happier man.”
“Don’t worry, I’m just about there with you.” Cal tore open a package of scrambled eggs and dumped the entire packet of hot sauce onto them. “It wouldn’t be so bad if there was just a little more variety. Or at least something out there that we knew wouldn’t kill us, just to spice it up now and then.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Right. Though the worst of it is the coffee. Now that I’ve had a taste of the real stuff, it’s hard to stomach this pre-brewed pouched crap. I just try not to think about the fact that it’s more than forty years old.”
Neil cringed and his nose wrinkled. “Why did you have to tell me that? Now I’m going to think of that any time I try to choke one of these damned things down.”
“Your choices aren’t great. Eat stale eggs or starve.”
“Fair enough.”
The two men consumed the rest of their meal in silence. After collecting the waste, Cal climbed out onto the running board and stowed the trash in the increasingly full bed.
Not much more room for samples, he thought. Maybe Josephson will let us turn around soon.
They had slowly traveled north, where they crossed a stream that Neil had mucked around in for several days, and followed a bend in the river that passed between the sleeper ships downstream. Both scientists had collected what Cal thought to be an enormous number of samples. Only a few empty jars remained, and Elaine had staked a claim to them, citing her belief that Neil’s rock samples would survive whether or not they were sealed. The trees also grew more tightly packed, and every day he had a harder time picking a path deeper into the wilderness. By the looks of the timber growth in the next valley, Cal believed they were as deep as they could go in the crawler.
Maybe if they set up a base camp here and continued on foot they’d get farther, but we’re not equipped for a foot expedition.
He reached back into the cab to retrieve his belt and rifle, and then jumped down, found an adequate bush, and relieved himself before going back to the crawler. Neil waited outside, hunching over slightly and breathing into his cupped hands.
“No creeks for you today,” Cal joked. “Hypothermia isn’t on my list of acceptable injuries.”
“No creeks. Just that spring over there.”
Cal shook his head. “It’s always water with you, isn’t it?”
“Hey, give me a coring drill I can play with and I’d be glad to stay away from water. Until then, I’ve got to look for the easy stuff.”
Cal escorted Neil a few hundred feet through the woods to a small spring that formed at the head of a murky pond. The banks near the spring were stained a deep red color, and strange white foam seemed to coalesce where the water slowed farther out.
“This is promising,” Neil chirped as he knelt at the water’s edge. He pulled a small trowel from the toolbox he carried with him nearly everywhere and plunged it into the dirt. It did not bury far, and rather than a scraping noise, it clanked. “Very promising.”
“What is it?” Cal asked, rising up on the tips of his toes to try gain a better vantage point.
“You’ll see.”
Neil dug for a minute, then retrieved a small steel pick from his box and chipped away at the hard red rock. A chunk fell away and splashed into the spring, and Neil fished it out.
“Yes!” he exclaimed as he held up the rock, no bigger than the palm of his hand.
“What? What is it?”
“It’s called bog ore, and it’s evidence of iron. We should look around for more springs.” He secured the tools and red rock in his kit and bounded away into the woods. Cal followed on his heels and hoped that the scientist wouldn’t stumble over his own feet and into another bone-chilling body of water.
“Wait up,” Cal called.
He brushed against a low hanging limb. A startled bird shot into the sky, squawking at him in disapproval. Neil pressed on and headed for another small pond just a few feet ahead at the edge of a stand of pines. He reached the water’s edge and knelt down. Cal caught up and took a minute to catch his breath.
“I think there’s more in here,” Neil exclaimed. “I’m definitely marking this on the map.”
Cal heard a distant pop, which echoed through the hills. His feet froze in place and he cocked his head. “Shhh,” he hissed at Neil.
“What is it?”
A second later, another report rang to his ears. This time he was able to hear a minute difference in the timing, giving him a rough sense of where the shot came from. More than one shot meant that Josephson wasn’t dealing with a pest. Cal’s fingers began to tingle and he swallowed hard
“Oh shit. The girls. C’mon, let’s go!.” Cal started into a headlong sprint in the direction of the gunfire.
“Wait! What’s going on?” he heard Neil from far behind.
Cal glanced back only once to make sure that the geologist was pursuing. Once he knew that Neil was on the move, he pushed his legs to the limit, jumping over roots and dodging around trees like a halfback in full flight. Another shot rang out, and he adjusted his course slightly to the left to compensate. He knew he was closing in on Josephson’s location.
“Josephson! Elaine! Where are you?” he screamed.
In the distance, he could hear Lieutenant Josephson scream out a taunt. “I’m over here, you giant son of a bitch.” Another round was fired, and Cal recognized the softer report of her Beretta. “That’s right. Get away from her. Take me on, you fucker.”
Cal slowed for a moment to prime his AR-15 for combat. The weapon was powerful and accurate, but didn’t have the fire rate of Josephson’s prized M4 carbine. He contemplated a more cautious approach, but the panic in Josephson’s voice as it carried on the wind was escalating. Whatever she faced, Cal knew it was dire, and the lieutenant might not last long enough for a measured approach. Again he charged headlong at the sound of the struggle.
Through the trees, he could
make out the outline of the crawler. A flash of blue was quickly blotted out by a hulking, brown creature that jumped and snarled as it danced around the clearing.
Shit, not again.
Cal charged to the edge of the clearing just in time to see the end of Josephson’s fight. The giant bear-like creature slammed its shoulder into her side, and then swept its great paw down low to the dirt. Before she hit the ground, it scooped up under her, and she was thrown like a ragdoll about fifteen feet. She skidded on her side until her body slammed into a rock. She did not move.
“No!” Cal screamed.
He brought the rifle to his shoulder and took quick aim down the rear sight. He massaged the trigger three times in quick succession, and the AR-15 belched fire as three rounds traveled the gap in less than the blink of an eye, finding their homes. Two tore into the bear’s torso, and a third into its foreleg. It screamed and reared onto its hind legs, and then dropped to a crouch.
Oh shit!
The beast leaped as Cal squeezed off another two rounds, which sailed under it and into the armored bumper of the crawler. Brown fur and thick muscle sailed high into the air. Cal froze for a moment as he waited for the weight and the claws to crash into him. The hulking animal landed just short, but its weight shook the ground so violently that Cal stumbled back a step. The predator took advantage of this momentary drop in Cal’s guard, and a second, shorter hop sent Cal skidding on his back. He came to a stop suddenly as a short bush cushioned him from slamming into a thick tree.
Cal’s hands were empty. He glanced to his right, but the rifle was nowhere to be found. A terrifying roar filled the air, and Cal watched as the beast prepared for another lunge.
Oh God. This is the end. I love you, Alexis.
His right hand shot to his belt, unsnapped the holster, and drew the Beretta in one motion. He raised it, but realized as the beast’s haunches tightened that he didn’t have enough time to release the safety and fire a shot before the inevitable attack.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.
With a single spasm, the bear collapsed. Blood gushed from two holes in its massive skull.
Cal’s ears were ringing, but he was vaguely aware that someone was trying to talk to him. A hand cradled underneath his arm, and he was helped to his feet. Neil stood by him, AR-15 in one hand, and Cal’s arm in the other. He had lost his glasses somewhere along the way.
“Are you okay?” Neil’s mouth was open wide in a scream, but Cal could barely hear.
He nodded, though his shoulder ached and blood poured from a scratch on his cheek. “The girls,” he coughed. “Come on.”
Cal picked his way around the fallen beast, keeping his pistol trained on it until he was clear around its backside. He ran to Josephson, who lay crumpled on the ground, bleeding from a gash on her left arm.
“Get the med kit, Neil,” he screamed.
Cal heaved her onto her back. Her pistol rolled from her hand and onto the dirt. He could see her chest rise and fall, if not a bit labored.
She’s still alive.
Cal gently slapped her cheek. “Come on, wake up.”
She groaned and rolled her head, but her eyes didn’t open.
Calvin rose to his feet and turned to the crawler. He saw Neil Leclair standing near the front fender of the crawler, frozen. “Neil, I need that med kit. Now.”
Neil did not move. Cal covered the thirty feet between them in just a few seconds. When he arrived at Neil’s side, he caught the larger man’s arm. Both of them dropped to their knees.
Oh God, no. No, no, NO! Oh, fuck… WHY?
The eviscerated corpse of Elaine Montoya gave no answers. It only looked skyward through dead eyes.
Darius Owens
12 April, Year of Landing, 08:13
Gabriel landing site
Miguel Barajas craned his thick neck upward momentarily to assure the pole was not tipping. He then took a step back and lowered his gaze to the hole in the ground. He beckoned to the driver of the crane with one hand, watching as the base of the pole slowly inched towards the hole. When it got close, Darius grabbed it firmly with both hands and guided it to the center of the hole. Miguel made a patting motion and the boom of the crane creaked lower. The pole slid with a scraping sound and then hit bottom.
“Alright, straighten ‘er up,” Miguel called.
The machine whined and creaked, and the pole edged its way into a vertical position.
“Hold ‘er there!”
Darius grabbed a shovel and began pushing the loose dirt into the hole around the edges of the new pole. Miguel joined him doing likewise, his biceps bulging through his shirt every time he pushed or pounded against the growing pile. In less than five minutes, the task was completed, and the strap on the crane slacked.
“Another one down,” Miguel remarked. “Eleven more to go.”
“Eleven until we branch out,” Darius corrected.
He leaned outward from the pole and looked at the half dozen others that stuck out of the ground in a straight line between them and the support section of Gabriel. Behind them flowed the river. The line of utility poles was meant to run from the ship to a few hundred feet from the river, where ground was being cleared to erect industrial buildings. Darius ran his gloved hand along the surface of the reddish surface of the pole. His fingers crossed the gnarled bump of a knot. The wood was lighter at this point on the pole; it appeared that the cheap stain that was used to protect the native Demeter lumber had not been properly applied at that point. It was a common flaw in the poles they used, but without access to pressure treating, creosote, or even tar, it was meant as only a temporary measure.
I wonder how many years we’ll get out of these before we have to start replacing them.
Darius tamped down the dirt around the base of the pole one more time for good measure before he slid the shovel onto its carrying rack on the side of the small crane. The crane’s operator, Ivan Novak, wiped his brow with a filthy red handkerchief before donning his hard hat once more. He noticed Darius looking at him, and gave a thumbs up. Darius returned the gesture, slapped the door twice, stepped onto the side plate, and grabbed a handle just behind the door. He heard a similar thump on the opposite door, and the crane lurched forward.
A muddy track, devoid of all vegetation, roughly marked the line of the telegraph road. Bumps every few feet gave away the presence of rocks hidden in the mud, further buried by the steel tracks of the crane. Darius enjoyed the flow of air over his cheeks as the conveyance carried them forward over the crown of the hill. The far bank was also being similarly cleared by the crew of Michael, and the beginnings of a wood structure could be seen in front of the ship’s dull, steel mass.
Ivan drove the crane just under three hundred feet to where another pole had been laid out on the ground. Fresh soil flung in a circle around a hole marked where the auger had pierced the earth earlier in the morning by the other work team. The crane slowly moved into position, and Darius and Miguel jumped from the side and cinched the sling around the timber.
“You think we can get all these done today?” Darius asked.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Miguel replied. “If a long day doesn’t bug you. I just hope Ali and the boys save me some of the good stuff when they serve up dinner back at camp.”
Darius smiled at him as the crane hoisted the top of the pole into the air. “Ah, didn’t I tell you? I’ve got your back. Rory will make sure we’re all fed. And you, sir, won’t have to worry about your boys sneaking chow from you. I heard a little bird say that you missed out on the strawberry shortcake the night that the colonel allowed a little treat for all of us.”
Miguel’s mouth twitched. Darius could tell that, despite how much he loved his children, Miguel was irked by the loss of the one treat that Colonel Eriksen had authorized for the colonists. “Naw, man. I did it for my boys.”
You don’t have to put on the front for me. I know the rationing is wearing on all of us.
Darius and Miguel took their
positions on the far side of the hole. Miguel went through a series of hand gestures, telling Ivan to lift the pole off the ground and move it forward. Darius carefully aligned the base into the center of the gaping maw of earth, then Miguel instructed Ivan to lower the boom a few inches at a time until the base of the pole was six feet deep. Darius stepped to the crane, retrieved both shovels, and handed one to Miguel.
“You sure it’s cool, asking your boy to do that for me?” Miguel asked.
Darius thrust his shovel deep into the loose dirt. “Rory’s a real good guy. If there’s one thing he understands and respects, it’s a working man. If you do an honest day’s work, he’ll do right by you when you need it. He expects the same in return.”
“I don’t got a problem with that.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Darius paused for a moment and watched Miguel throw four shovels full of dirt into the hole. The words that ran deep from his emotion came out with no thought. “Maybe if we all lived like that back on Earth, the War would never have happened.”
Miguel leaned against his shovel and dabbed a cloth across his brow. “The world had a few more problems than respect.”
He’s right. Darius sighed heavily and threw more dirt around the side of the pole. Neighbors can get along fine for the most part, but different parts of a city…
He forced a smile as he tried to shove aside thoughts of a ruined Earth. “Well, getting him to set aside a little of whatever he’s whipped up is a small price to pay for you doing the lion’s share of the next phase.”
“Just remember not to plug the lines into the ship until after I’m done stringing them up, right?”
“Right. I wouldn’t want your widow beating my ass with a shoe, now would I?” Darius grinned broadly.
“Hah. Ali wouldn’t use a shoe. You’d only wish she did after she was done with you.”
Ivan’s smoky voice cut through their conversation. “Are you ladies done gossiping? We have work to do, you know.”
“Ah, go back to your throne, Princess,” Miguel taunted playfully.
“It’s a hundred fricking degrees inside that beast. You can call me Princess when you make a fan and put those arms to work cooling me down.”
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 65
