by P J Strebor
The T/O’s back straightened. "At the moment captain, I am working with very limited input. However, until I obtain data to the contrary, the only rational explanation I can conclude is that there is a human being alive on the planet Delos, and that said human has probably been down there since Bellinda crashed on that world. Sir."
Rational? Rational! This had to be some kind of mistake. No one, but no one survived on a plague planet for longer than forty-two days. Yet in this instance two plus two did not add up to what it should be. Alive, for two years.
"How many life signs," he asked.
"The readings are fuzzy captain due to the inversion layer but I am reasonably certain that there is only one."
"Do you have a location?"
"Again captain it is hard to pin down. Hmm, I would estimate that the subject is within one to two clicks of the crash site."
"Captain?"
Bradman managed a weak smile. "D-O, I'm open to suggestions."
With an effort she returned his captain's gesture. "Only one recommendation. We need to send a shore party down there to investigate."
"Are you volunteering?"
McMurphy shrugged, more in the negative than the positive.
"I don't blame you. This is a job for the eggheads at Mylor to figure out. There is no way in hell that I'm going to order one of my people to go strolling around on a plague planet. That is well and bloody truly above the call of duty."
"I suppose we could send down a couple of cans," McMurphy suggested. "Of course they would be of limited use without supervision."
"You want me to ask for volunteers?" the captain said, with a sardonic grin.
The sound of a cleared throat caused him to swing his chair around until his gaze fell onto the Auxiliary Operations Officer.
"I'll go sir," Ensign Ellen Gabreski said.
Although only on her second patrol the ensign had so far exhibited all of the requisite qualities of an recent academy graduate. She still had stars in her eyes and words like duty, honor and Republic ringing in her ears. She wanted adventure, she wanted to make a name for herself, she wanted - one day in the distant future - to sit in the captain’s chair. McMurphy remembered Bradman being the same way at her age. Still, volunteering to go wandering around on a plague world showed a whole lot of moxie.
"If you go down there, ensign, it will mean forty five days in the tank, when you get back."
"I’m aware of the quarantine regulations, sir. But if someone has survived on a plague planet for two years…" She let the suggestion hang in the air between them for a long moment. "Wouldn't you say it's worth the risk to find out, sir?"
A possible antidote for the plague. Yes, McMurphy thought, she not only had guts but also made an extremely good point.
"Very well Ensign you have a go. Full quarantine procedures and no unnecessary chances. Understood!"
"Aye captain." The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips.
CHAPTER 7
Time: 12th April, 311 (ASC).
Position: Planet Delos. Athenian controlled space. Tunguska Fault.
The nightmare returned. Images overlapped, tumbling faster and faster. Horror. Pain. Violation. Kania tearing at Bellinda. Delos.
Nathan lurched upright in bed, his breath catching. He peeled the light sheet from his clammy skin. A shudder ran down his body. He groaned and licked his dry lips. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk, he supported his head in trembling hands.
“Damn you,” he shouted. “Leave me alone.” The returning echo was his only response. Nathan laughed and shook his head. “That’s right, Telford, damn a deity you don’t believe in. Brilliant.”
Wiping sleep from his eyes Nathan sauntered into the adjacent ship’s galley, poking around for leftovers. A piece of lizard jerky tested his teeth but he got it down. “Time to hunt, Telford, unless you want to eat this shit again today.”
I wonder if I’ve gone a little batty in the last two years? He shrugged. “Only if I start answering my own questions.”
His old flight suit had seen better days but with no alternative, he slipped the threadbare garment on and slung his pack and weapons webbing across his shoulder. Nathan strolled along the ship’s central corridor pausing to stare through the space left by the blown-out hatch and into the vacant quarters. The room had not changed in the last two years but he could not bear to sleep in his family’s old quarters.
Nathan arrived at the first barred hatch. He undogged it and slid ten levels down the service ladder until he reached the lowest deck. Sun streamed into the dim corridor after he opened the hatch. He tentatively scanned the landscape. Seeing no danger, he stepped over the coaming and stood for a few moments allowing his eyes to adjust to the early morning glare. Through the broad hull-breach he took in the clear blue sky.
The deck plates remained solidly unmoving as he walked through the superstructure until he stood outside the hull. The surrounding jungle greeted him as it did every day. A thick, green façade within which death awaited the unwary in a thousand ugly ways. The hot spot between his shoulder blades that always warned of danger remained quiet. Without you I wouldn’t have lasted two years on this world. Thank you, Prep.
At the south-end of the crash site, water cascaded from a hidden aquifer. Leaving his weapons and pack hanging from a branch, he stepped under the waterfall. At this time of the morning the bitterly cold water stung his skin through his clothing. Having washed away a troubled night’s sleep he stepped from under the flow and wiped his face. Within minutes the steadily climbing sun would dry his clothes until his sweat soaked them again. Nathan secured his weapons and hung the pack from his left shoulder.
He followed the overgrown four-kilometer depression that marked Bellinda’s crash path. He stopped, as he did every day, at the large rock-encased mound. He hacked at the ever-encroaching vegetation with his machete. Standing back to admire his handy work he noticed for the first time that a flower grew here and there. A lump grew in his throat and he swallowed it.
Nathan left the graveyard and followed an animal track into the jungle. He found the small watering hole he had discovered a month ago. Keeping his movements to a minimum he waited noiselessly, as a good hunter did.
Another few minutes rewarded his stealthy patience. The marsupial he sought was small but mighty tasty. Come on, you timid little shit. At the short rise leading to the water it stopped. It’s sharp ears flattened, the keen nose quivered. Nathan nocked an arrow onto his bowstring, salivating in anticipation. Assured of its safety the little animal skittered forward. A few meters from the water-hole it stopped, trembled with fear and scurried into the safety of the undergrowth before he could raise his bow. “Damn,” he hissed. Then he heard it.
Nathan recognized the high engine whine, muffled by distance but growing steadily. A chill ran down his sweaty back.
Breaking from cover he sprinted toward the growing sound. There was only one safe place they could land. If he got there in time he could occupy the high ground and set his ambush. Nathan burst from the undergrowth into the clearing and skidded to a halt as a hot knot of coal burned between his shoulders. Prep was warning him. Experience had taught him what this threat represented. A pair of chameleon leopards crouched nearby. They were not visible to the naked eye but he could sense their presence, one to his right, one to his left. I don’t have time for this.
“I’m just passing through, old one,” he yelled. Nathan's raised voice tested the big cat’s concentration. They could remain stealthy for short periods, usually when startled or preparing to attack. Homing in on the first movement of long grass, he plucked pebbles from a pouch and threw them at the invisible beast. One pebble struck the cat and he materialized through a shimmering haze. A big male, three hundred kilos of looming death. “Take it easy, old cat.” The female would be poised to attack from the opposite direction. Nathan nocked an arrow and aimed along the shaft at the small clump of depressed grass. When the female leopard mate
rialized the male roared his warning.
“Go on old cat, get going.” Over his shoulder the big male emitted a final snarl as it padded away. He had come to know this couple over the years. They had avoided confrontation as long as they respected one another’s territory. The female snarled as she slinked away.
He ran on. Ten minutes later he reached Bellinda. While he caught his breath the steadily growing whine from the invader’s landing boat reached a deafening pitch. The craft landed on the flat outcrop two hundred meters from Bellinda’s busted hull. He dried his sweaty fingers on a section of his pants not soaked in sweat.
A lone figure emerged from the landing boat and inspected the enormous broken ship. He wore a v-suit overlaid with light-weight, black armor. The black helmet reminded Nathan of something from years ago.
The suited figure examined the surrounding jungle before scanning the vista of the ship’s crash path. If he did not start paying attention to this perilous environment he would be dead before Nathan could put an arrow into him. Or perhaps I should just nick him? Let him find out what it’s like to die of the Derwent Plague. This would have the added benefit of torturing him with the knowledge that he had only forty-two days to live before the plague started to eat him alive.
“But what if he’s not a Pruessen?” Nathan whispered.
Suit-man strolled along the crash path as if he were going for a walk through a city park. Not far from the funeral mound he stopped before the great fallen tree trunk. Nathan could not see his face through the tinted visor. The range was a little long but Nathan nocked an arrow and checked the wind. He aimed at the soft opening at the back of the enemy’s neck. Something about the damn black helmet told him to hold the shot so he sheathed the arrow and dashed down the hill.
Nathan’s back flared a warning. From the edge of the clearing an enormous green shape disturbed the undergrowth. The snake made a beeline for suit-man. He continued sprinting down the embankment as the enormous snake slithered into position to attack the stranger. Finally, the dimwit noticed the threat and spun around as the snake coiled to strike. Suit-man grappled for his sidearm, took a panicked backward step, tripped over an exposed root and staggered heavily to the ground.
Suit-man pushed against his heels until the fallen tree blocked his way. Hampered by his thick, cumbersome gloves he continued to grope for his sidearm. The snake’s fangs extended, each the length of a man’s hand, loaded with a toxin that killed with slow excruciating pain. It struck, the fangs glanced off suit-man’s forearm armor. That had to hurt. Again, suit-man tried for his pistol and the snake’s fangs skimmed off the armor. Its black slit-eyes followed the line of the armor. The armored sections like the chest, head, arms and legs were protected. However, the soft gaps between the armor were vulnerable. Nathan shook his head. Smart snake; big ugly smart snake. It’ll kill suit-man now.
The viper extended itself to three meters in height, its body straining tautly to strike.
Nathan drew back the bowstring, aimed and fired. The long wooden shaft ripped through the back of the viper’s head, exiting through its right eye. White brain matter hung in stringy lumps from the tip of the arrow. The serpent swayed back and forth before collapsing to the ground, twitching spasmodically in its death throes.
Why did I do that? Something about the black helmet. I still can’t remember…
Nathan shook his head dismissively. If I’ve made a mistake I’ll correct it now. Striding down the hill he jumped onto the fallen tree trunk. Suit-man remained frozen on the ground.
Walking around the prone figure he stood before suit-man. The stranger began to rise but paused when Nathan tensed.
Go on, reach for your sidearm.
Suit-man rested on his knees, making certain to keep his hands clear of this sidearm. His helmet turned to face Nathan for tense seconds. Nathan followed his slow movements as he adjusted his helmet’s controls. The sudden loss of opacity made suit ‘man’ squint.
Shock constricted Nathan’s throat and he cleared it noisily.
“You’re a girl,” he blurted.
“Last time I checked,” she said, sporting a sly grin. Her voice, coming through the helmet speaker, sounded comfortable, friendly.
“Pruessens don’t carry girls on their ships,” Nathan said.
“Not since the end of the war they haven’t.”
Nathan felt no threat from her.
“I’m Ensign Ellen Gabreski,” she said, offering her hand. “Monitor Corps. We were patrolling the area and discovered your ship.”
Nathan was too stunned to speak.
“My friends call me Gabby,” she added.
Nathan recalled the picture of his father beside his fighter, the black helmet under his arm. Monitor Corps. Of course, that’s why I didn’t fire.
Taking the offered hand he said, “Nathan Telford, of the Bellinda.” Nathan glanced at the broken freighter.
Gabby stood and brushed grass and dirt from her suit. She noticed his interest and turned slowly around. “I’m wearing a v-suit to protect me from infection.”
“From the plague,” Nathan confirmed.
Nathan’s head tracked to the nearby funeral mound.
Gabby frowned.
Live as one or die as one.
“How old are you?”
Nathan squinted in concentration. “Thirteen … and a half. By the Athenian Standard Calendar.”
“You’ve survived on a plague planet for two years?” Her astonished tone said much. “On your own? How did you do that?”
He shrugged and stepped toward the viper. After pulling the arrow from its head he cleaned it in the sandy soil before slipping it into his quiver. Gabby kept her distance from the dead reptile.
“Southern Delosian Horned Viper,” he announced. His smile fled. “Before the plague, they killed three of my family.” They were the lucky ones.
“But through it all you survived. That’s amazing.”
Yeah, me and Prep. A winning combination.
“Will you tell me what happened, Nathan?”
Nathan winced then cleared his throat. He needed to tell someone. He brushed over some points. Iberia. Four years of slavery. Escape. "We spent two weeks changing course to avoid the Pruessen patrols before transiting into Athenian space. But the ship had been badly damaged, the boat bay destroyed, sensors and navigation damaged, many dead and injured. Our food supply ran out days before and the water reclaimator couldn’t keep up with our demands.
"As we entered the Delosian system we sent out urgent distress calls on our jury rigged short wave bands but received no replies. The hyper generator had blown during system transition. We didn’t have the parts to repair it so we weren't going anywhere. We could remain aboard and starve to death or attempt a landing." Nathan’s throat constricted with the recollection. He swallowed deeply and took a shuddering breath.
“My father said Rebecca, she was my older sister, was the best natural pilot he’d ever seen, she got us down in one piece. Most of us survived the landing and we settled in. Everything went well for a while. We had been out of touch for four years. We didn’t know Delos had been contaminated by the plague. Forty two days after surviving the landing my family started getting sick." Nathan cleared his husky throat and blinked rapidly. “My family all died … but I didn’t. Don’t know why they died and I didn’t.” A knot formed in his stomach at the memory.
He saw tears in Gabby’s eyes. She reached toward him but he instinctively drew away from her.
“I don’t like to be touched.”
“All right, Nathan. Sorry.”
Nathan brushed sweaty hair from his brow.
“What’s that?” Gabby pointed to the bump at the corner of his right eyebrow.
Nathan smiled grimly. “Pruessen’s don’t care to be looked at. Our doctor had been removed from the ship so the broken bone never mended properly.”
“I see.”
No you don’t.
He glared at her.
Her eyebrows arched and she quickly added, “Or not.”
“I need it to remind me.”
“Remind you of what?”
“My family obligation.”
“I see,” she said again.
Nathan felt his temper rise. No you don’t, Gabby. No you don’t. You grow up fast when you’re a slave. Suffer through subservience to the Pruessen Empire then, then, you’ll understand.
“Nathan, before something else tries to kill us, how about we get out of here? I can have you aboard Impudent within the hour.”
He nodded. While Gabby walked away to check in with her boat Nathan stood before the funeral mound. His heart raced.
“I am leaving you now, my family,” he whispered. “I will join Monitor Corps. One day I will return to you – after I have killed every last Pruessen.”
CHAPTER 8
Time: 27th May, 311 (ASC)
Position: Orbiting the ANS Bio Deterrent Research facility. Planetoid Mylor.Arcadian System. Northern Quadrant.
Status: Monitor Impudent, awaiting transfer of personnel to BDR facility
Nathan's first experience with his painful intuitive gift came to him at the beginning of his third month on the planet Delos. He had been alone for three weeks and he carried within his heart a dark hollow place filled with pain. The loss of his family had nearly crushed his spirit but he determined that he could be of little use to their memory if he died. So, he went through the motions necessary to survive and in a short time became quite proficient with the bow that his father had fashioned for him. The Pulsar rifle would undoubtedly be a more effective weapon than his bow, but his unfamiliarity with the weighty firearm had encouraged him to stick with what he knew the best.
As part of his survival regime he hunted for food every day. On one occasion, as he strolled along a worn animal track, enjoying the mild spring weather, he wandered into unfamiliar territory. The jungle fell away in an instant, the lush vegetation giving way to an open area of startlingly barren landscape. The winter rains cascaded down from the mountains into this basin area, washing away all traces of the jungle before it. The kaleidoscope of multi colored vegetation vanished before the orange walled arroyo as though a new world had magically appeared within the one he knew.
