Ember's Echo (The Nimbus Collection Book 2)

by D. C. Clemens

  The remnants of the far-reaching landscape soon became usurped by the precincts of the camp. The main camp consisted of a couple dozen rectangular white structures of various lengths that acted as the homes and work stations for the currently missing visitors. The scouts had soon become level with the thirsty ground and began their scan and frequency sweep, but they detected no pulse of life roaming about. The longer they scanned, the stronger the realization became that no one was here to heed our call. One scout steered away from the others and veered toward the Revel, the ship’s dark bronze color giving the impression it was melding with some of the autumn colored sand. It was exceedingly rare to see a cruiser, even one as relatively lightweight as this research ship, to find a reason to land on a planet that wasn’t low gravity. The reasons for such an endeavor were few, and none good.

  When our scout examined the metal enigma more closely, it found signs of damage on each of its two transmitters, which came in the form of two silvery spires on either end of the ship, stabbing the sky for sixteen feet before ending in an outward facing dish of a three foot span. Exempting these two impaired mechanisms, there was little else that suggested a major attack. Perhaps strangest of all, the entire ship’s systems were wholly shut down. Not one emergency light twinkled on the sleeping giant. These details were entirely unfathomable, much more so together than apart. Meanwhile, its companion scanned and peered through the cloudy windows of each mobile habitat, hoping to catch a glimpse of clarity. But no such thing occurred. Each chamber was void of their occupants and no object appeared to be out of order.

  “Damn, where could they be?” asked Fife to no one in particular. “Do you think they all might be in the ship?”

  His irritated counterpart replied, “If they are, then why haven’t they answered our hails, idiot?”

  “Hey, that’s a perfectly reasonable assumption! Their short range comm system might be damaged, or maybe they’re all dead in there, idiot!”

  “Enough!” intervened Brent, using a domineering voice that would have hushed the swells of an ocean. “You hairballs shut up and let the captain think.”

  Silence overcame them both, but they still continued to argue through scowls, which included twisting around their tall pointed ears, transmitting a language they alone understood. It was much the same way children fought after being quieted in a temple or classroom, except most children didn’t take it as seriously as these two cousins appeared to take all their disputes. The one soul who was supposed to have benefited the most by the subdued room, didn’t seem to notice, or care to notice, the exchanges. Few could claim to know the subtleties of draken emotion all that well, but anyone could see the captain was in deep thought, the black vertical slits of his hazel eyes perusing all the information and images fastened on the screens.

  Though his expression did not alter, the captain came to a conclusion, which was expressed when he said, “Everyone to the transport. We can’t save anyone up here. Hardy, tell Captain Thorton to hold his position while we go planet-side to investigate.” Our leader donned his helmet and headed for the elevator.

  We mimicked his actions, trailing him until we reunited ourselves with the shuttle. The shuttle’s meagerly lit cabin supplemented my idea that we our minds were just as enlightened as they were when we first learned of the mission. On entering the turbulent atmosphere, Captain Kiran pronounced Vasilissa’s name in a manner which suggested he wanted her opinion on the state of affairs. She complied.

  “I’m not sure what to make of it, sir. There aren’t any signs of pirates or slavers, whom would have undoubtedly either destroyed or apprehended the cruiser and left an obvious mess. Maybe the advok came and forced them onto their own ship? Though I can’t possibly think of why they would induce the cruiser to make landfall.”

  “Maybe they purposely wanted it to be confusing,” said Emory.

  “But what would be the benefit in that?” asked the eldrick, sounding as though she was merely humoring him.

  Answering for his near duplicate, Fife waved his gloved, paw-like hands in front of his face and said, “To create fear and mystery! I don’t find it difficult to imagine someone taking advantage of the weird interference to create a misleading story.”

  “Seems like a stretch for some pirates or the advok to think that grandiose,” said Brent, not bothering to look away from the porthole window.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such little imagination our comrades have, Fife!” stated Emory, shaking his head in disappointment. “They should thank the Sacred we’re not criminals or there’d be a lot more unsolved cases.”

  With this last declaration still mingling in my ears, I felt the shuttle lose speed as she began her landing sequence. I could see we were touching down near the bow end of the Revel, which faced southward.

  As we made contact with the ground, Captain Kiran commanded, “Lieutenant, take Emory, Fife, and Briannika and head for the camp. The rest of us will investigate the ship.”

  Both doors drew open from each side, allowing Ember’s air to carelessly strike our suits with its innumerable particles of fine sand. While the atmosphere did hold some oxygen, it was too scant to be breathed in easily for a sustained period of time. Taking our first steps into the sandy ground, the sturdy winds erasing our short-lived footprints, I could sense that the gravity was slightly heavier than it was on Earth, but it proved to be no burden to any of our movements. Glancing upward revealed the moons beginning to peer their way through the failing light, looking as if they were curious about our intentions to their treasured, fiery planet. Despite the nearing twilight, the temperature was close to its peak, reaching 140 degrees Fahrenheit. Fortunately, our ensembles wouldn’t allow us to feel such unwarranted intensity, each retaining a more acquiescent environment that matched our preferences. Joining our respective groups was a hovering scout. The spherical machines were a little bigger than my head and, while encased in a silvery metal, did not reflect any light.

  As we walked up to the starboard side of the sleeping ship, Hardy, using our embedded helmet radios, stated, “Manual override required for door lock.”

  On attaining the unthinking go ahead by the captain, the scout zipped onward and lent its attention to the access panel on the wall by the entrance. Releasing one of its elastic tendrils curled inside its body, the bot connected to the door controls located beneath the protective panel. We waited only a second outside the door before Hardy was able to hack it open. The opening led into an empty decontamination room, which automatically shut its door once the four of us entered. The room was then lighted by several wide beams of crisscrossing blue lights that began skimming us for foreign contaminants, equalizing the pressure to the rest of the ship as it did so. It didn’t take long for a green light to drench us, seeing as we were all wearing fully encompassing armor, allowing us admittance to the true interior of the ship. When the next set of doors split apart, the lights spontaneously started to flick on one by one, apathetically illuminating the darkened interior.

  Rifles up, we hurried into the main body of the ship, each of our footfalls generating a hollow resonance when they slapped the gray floors, broadcasting our seclusion in the bleakly barren vessel.

  Hardy,” the captain called at last, when nothing seemed to become conscious of our presence, “see if you can connect to the central computer.”

  The scout propelled itself to the semi-circular pilot’s station fifteen feet to our left, where the nearest access port happened to be. There were some narrow windows tapering across the curved bow, but the blast doors had closed over them, leaving its fortified casing as our only view. As Hardy went about his task, the rest of us scoured the open-planed deck for answers of any kind. As this was a civilian research ship, having only moderate shielding and minimal weapons, the command deck only accommodated a nominal control and information center, a small mess hall, and a few labs at the back, all of which were neglected of their owners, living or otherwise. Even a specter would have left a more lingering impre
ssion that this placed was once lived in.

  At the point we were completing our quick sweep of the deck, Hardy informed us, “Captain, connection is complete, however, after several attempts to recover the ship’s records, it’s clear there is no data to recover other than the ship’s current status.”

  “You mean the S.I.’s memories have been wiped?” Vasilissa asked incredulously.

  “Not just the memory, but the S.I. itself has been deleted.”

  “What is the current status?” Captain Kiran asked.

  “The Revel is not capable of flight,” enlightened Hardy. “The engineering deck has suffered severe internal damage, inflicted by unknown means. Safeguards have shut down engines to prevent catastrophic failure. Extensive repair needed. Long rang communication is not possible without restoration of transmitter. Both transports are docked, but also appear to have been heavily damaged. Sensors do not pick up any signs of living or dead aboard the ship.”

  Not really conscious of it, I blurted out, “Sabotage?”

  Before anyone could either agree or disagree with the assessment, including myself, Briannika’s voice entered our minds.

  “Captain, we finished sweeping the camp and found no sign of anyone, but we did find a working terminal hidden in one of the labs. It contains an account by the head archaeologist, Dr. Krauss. I recommend instant download, like, really recommend it.”

  “Begin download to all squad members and to the Vixen,” said Kiran.

  The download finished within four seconds of the order. The account was as follows.

  Chapter Four

  Private log of Dr. Franklin Krauss, head archaeologist and overseer of the archaeological dig of 2X79-K, also dubbed “Ember,” for simplicity’s sake. The Galactic Standard calendar stands at 498-514. Earth calendar is November 19, 3131 S.E.

  We (finally!) touched down on 2X79-K fourteen hours ago. Much of that time was spent unloading our equipment on a region designated the Beta site, and though there was little difficulty, it’s not my kind of work. It was after careful consideration that we chose this site to begin our first excavations. The region encompasses a 4,600 mile stretch of the longest river on this world and which in turn lies on the largest continent on the planet. Preliminary scans taken by Revel indicated this expanse contained the highest concentration of ruins, likely a consequence of the prominent river and the relatively few sandstorms that otherwise plague much of this world. If I was allowed the requested manpower, we would have tackled Alpha site as well, which is on the opposite side of the planet from Beta, but circumstances dictate we concentrate on one region at a time. I suppose we’ll just have to make due with our mechanized scouts and let them handle the corresponding sites as best they can. Still, I would have much preferred having trained eyes and hands assessing the more interesting areas.

  We set up our main encampment half a mile north from the river bank and four miles west from the outskirts of what was once a majestic city—far away enough not to disturb anything valuable by our activity, but close enough for easy access by speeder. Early scans attest the existence of some intricate underground passages beneath the city. Once we finish with our superficial examinations of the immediate area, I think I’ll investigate this tunnel system next. The underpasses should also give us a welcome reprieve from the relentless heat. Though a few have commented on the high temperatures already, it isn’t quite bad enough to force us out of our standard attires and into the clunky self-contained suits we brought. In any case, I’ll try timing our most exhausting work during the mildly cooler twilight periods.

  The star here is unusually active for its type, and the planet’s wild magnetic field doesn’t help matters any, but my techs do assure me their precautions should be enough to overcome the occasional interference to our communications and more sensitive gear.

  ~

  22 November 3131 S.E. – One of the first peculiarities that has struck me is the lack of wildlife, even in the rivers and seas. We have uncovered dozens of unique fossilized species of marine and land-based creatures, including those that appear to belong to the dominant sapient species, and yet, no living organism larger than a microbe has been encountered anywhere, organic eye or not. Whatever catastrophe befell this civilization must have also severely affected the faunae. These initial observations do support Dr. Collins’ theory that a pathogen had a significant impact in the disappearance of this society. Despite the obvious signs that several nuclear weapons were used at about the same time around the world, radiation readings indicate there wasn’t enough fallout to assume a self-inflicted nuclear winter was able to completely eradicate the civilization. Perhaps one nation, or several, unleashed a pathogen and others responded with nuclear weapons? Only time (and months of hard work) will tell.

  ~

  23 November 3131 S.E. – We have been able to uncover a great deal of Ember’s former masters over the last day—and by ‘day’ I mean Ember’s full eighteen hour cycle—though I suspect there would have been many more unimpaired remains if it wasn’t for a bone eating microbe we discovered. Many of these specimens were killed violently, I’m unhappy to say. And the majority were simply found haphazardly scattered throughout the area. Adding to the frenzied scene, whereas one portion of the petrified remains were left perfectly untouched, a smaller portion plainly display their cause of death by projectile weapons. A few bones even exhibit signs of being cracked or outright crushed ante mortem, suggesting brutal hand-to-hand assaults of some sort.

  Update: Our latest data does now point to Alpha site as perhaps being the epicenter of the ancient trouble. Closer inspection of the radiation levels specify that numerous nuclear type weapons were detonated there. In fact, the destruction was so great there, much of a mountain range was leveled. Hopefully, we’ll be able to visit the site and investigate it more in depth within a couple of months. I detest having to wait that long.

  ~

  27 November 3131 S.E. – It has nearly been an Earth week and we have yet to clearly define the malady that presumably had a hand in killing many of these people. The most common symptom occurs in the long bones, which have an observable expansion of their internal blood vessels, likely meaning a sudden increase in blood production. A high percentage of bones also appeared to have gone through an intense density increase, which would generate deep, concentrated pain if the victims were still alive. The amount of vessel expansion and/or density increase varies by the individual and undoubtedly led directly to some of their deaths, going by the severe fractures in some of the bones. Interestingly, Dr. Collins has concluded that most of the victims uncovered so far did not die from these symptoms alone, although, without viable tissue samples, it will take longer to stipulate what the exact cause was.

  Still, in spite of what my eyes tell me, I can’t help but feel like this place is somehow… active, for lack of a better word. It’s as if thousands of people are just over the next hill, out of sight, but still perceptible by their hum. I wonder if other archaeologists ever felt this way during one of their digs?

  ~

  29 November 3131 S.E. – Just after dawn our communications were temporarily disrupted by a particularly powerful solar storm. These phenomenon are to be expected, of course, but this one was so abnormally strong that Mr. Harris, commander of our security team, originally believed it to be a jamming signal from an enemy ship. After a few moments of an amusing (in hindsight) panicked reaction by some of my colleagues, it was providentially determined that the disruption did indeed come from the star. Dr. Craig Powell, our head astronomer, did make it a point to tell me that his instruments suggested that the storm shouldn’t have been as strong as it was. He was certain something had magnified it. He is very intrigued by the significance and it should keep him busy.

  ~

  3 December 3131 S.E. – We’ve learned that the bone eating organisms don’t like water or high moisture environments, so any remains found interred near or in the river are relatively preserved compared to tho
se exhumed on drier land. What’s remarkable is the sheer number of fossils that are along the river and its various distributaries. If our previous estimations of the population near the waterway is correct, then conservative calculations point to their being a large influx of people migrating to the less dense areas. It’s evident that these people were evacuating the cities in droves, possibly trying to escape the potential epidemic.

  However, what’s quite striking is the evident lack of a coordinated response to the spread. Considering this species was advanced enough to produce nuclear-grade weapons, they must have been at least somewhat prepared to respond to an outbreak, no matter how virulent it could have been. Instead, all evidence shows that they match, or even exceed, my more primitive human ancestors in their mad reaction to the Bubonic Plague. War might explain some of the pandemonium, but I hypothesize there is a factor not yet accounted for that must be responsible for this much chaos to take over so quickly.

  ~

  8 December 3131 S.E. – One of our Alpha site scouts was caught in a sandstorm brutal enough to take it offline. Two technicians were sent on a shuttle to attempt to repair it, seeing as we don’t have many spares. Mr. Harris himself and a few of his colleagues insisted on going with them, an effort I didn’t believe necessary, but permitted. Even so, I’m glad to see our security team taking their job seriously.

  Update: We just received a warning of another incoming solar storm. We might lose all communications again for a few minutes before our instruments can reboot.

  Update: The solar storm was once again stronger than the data had predicted. Fortunately, the annoyance lasted less than five minutes. The repair team also experienced a sandstorm in addition to the cosmic one, briefly leaving us unaware of each other’s proceedings. However, once they restored communications, it was confirmed that everyone came out of it unscathed. They were able to repair the scout and returned without any further incident.