Orphans of Middle Mars: Book One of the Chronicles of Middle Mars

by CJ East

  Kinch slid his hand to his neck and unlatched the three gaskets securing his helmet. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he exhaled in a slow, even release to depressurize his lungs, lifting the helmet from his suit. Warm, humid air rushed around his face and down his neck as the seal was broken.

  It was not what he expected - air was not ripped from his collapsing lungs, the water in his eyes and nose did not boil off. He was alive!

  Kinch finished a smooth exhale and took in a slow, measured breath. His lungs filled with warm, moist air tasting of sweet vegetation, almost flowery, and the musky dark taste of wet, fertile soil. He opened his eyes to the darkness and saw nothing except the blue halo of the light reflecting from his red enamel suit. His other senses calibrated to familiar stimuli of numerous summer night watches in Indiana.

  Insect-like sounds chirped in the distance with interruptions by more random bug sounds. The humid air meant a large water source was near. The floral smell was strong, like hyacinth, and was laced with interesting spices pleasant and foreign to him. He took another deep breath. Then another.

  He sat frozen in the darkness, having the presence of mind not to make any movements when ignorant of his surroundings. He tried to make out any forms, but saw nothing at eye level. He made a slow scan upward as black turned to navy, then blue until near the 2 o’clock position of a forest sky, he saw tiny, far-off stars. Small and large clusters of constellations throwing dim light downward.

  He sat in amazement, they were even twinkling! He focused and found layers of them, hundreds of stars, some brighter than Venus in the Earth sky. Kinch lowered his gaze to the blue edge of the star field. He practiced his sniper training on vision adjustment. A detailed silhouette began to form in the blur between the two shades. A thin dark line signaled the familiar outline of a forest canopy. He dropped his field of vision a few degrees and waited again. He saw the outline of branches - textured with subtle differences in the gradients of darkness.

  A repetitive clicking began near him, a few feet away to the left. He didn’t have time to complete the whole visual adjustment exercise. He searched near his feet for his iron bar. The forest floor came into focus with slow concentration. He made out a smooth clearing in front of him about 60 feet across - a glen covered with short, spiky grass-like plants. About two feet in front on him was an indention forming a long line. He rocked forward on balls of his feet to his knees, his gloves searching the grass. He gripped the bar and used it to lift himself to his feet.

  Kinch picked up his helmet and turned to the light from the blue door. The light he thought was dim now blinded his acclimated vision. Inspecting where the arch joined the wall he discovered the rock walls were not smooth as they were on the other side of the door, but rough and irregular.

  He scanned for a good defensive point where he could defend himself from whatever was making the approaching insect noise. The small vertical cleft to the right was deep enough for him wedge into, but not maneuver. He could be assured of no rear attack.

  He had to be careful. He had no understanding of his environment, of the plant life and what he assumed was some kind of living creature. Best to assume everything had the potential to kill him. He needed to sit tight, observe and learn if he wanted to live. He stumbled to the crevice, inspecting the space for some hiding creature with a similar idea.

  Kinch was no stranger to recon and night watch. Instead of late night sorties sneaking audio books of Aristotle and Dostoevsky through ear buds, he was listening to the menacing clicks becoming higher pitch as grew closer.

  Dozens of tactical questions flooded his mind. Should he put his helmet back on and raise the visor? It would protect his head, but limit his hearing and peripheral vision. Should he risk moving to find higher ground? Was this nighttime in this tropical environment? Would there be daylight for him to observe his surroundings?

  He felt the pressure of movement to his left and turned to face it. He always had a strong proximity awareness, like waves slapping against his skin when someone slipped into a pool. Back home he became so attuned he could perceive a deer entering a clearing before the animal came into sight. Kinch stared into the blue light from the door shining over the vegetation, it illuminated the entire clearing in the boy’s adjusted eyes.

  He couldn’t perceive color, pattern or depth as he squinted across the clearing, but could at least see. He sensed the pressure again. Something was advancing towards him from the far side of the door. He focused and saw the spikes of grass stop their wavering at the shadow’s edge near the thin blue light cast down onto the clearing. He was being hunted.

  Kinch squatted, moved his helmet under him with quiet skill and sat to support his shaking legs. A fever was building as chills trembled through his body. Walking through the light must have made him sick. He positioned his iron bar for a thrust, the chiseled end forward and the blunt end lodged against the rock wall protecting his back. He surveyed the clearing and waited.

  Moments later something small, dark, and round bolted out of the darkness and crossed the entire stretch of the doorway making an irregular clicking sound related to its movement. It followed Kinch’s path, stopping ten feet away. Kinch didn’t move, he wouldn’t budge until time to attack.

  He scrambled to assemble the data into usable information. The grass he had pulled appeared to be about a foot tall, the round outline of creature was a foot taller than the grass. A two-foot round stalker.

  The domed creature was silent and motionless. Kinch could see a dull reflection from its round mass, perhaps a smooth skin or shell. It was at least as fast as a raccoon, and the sound made was irregular, as if it was nervous. The clicking started again, quiet at first and grew louder. He saw two appendages raise from the front. The silhouette of bulbs on the end of the thin lines - eye stalks?

  Kinch perceived the pressure of a different movement. He moved his gaze away from the round creature to the space between the danger he was watching and the unknown danger approaching from the edge of the glade.

  He tightened his grip on the bar, trying to steady his feverish hand. Great, he thought, they move in packs. He focused back on the round creature at the shadow line of the door. The stalks were now leaning in the direction where Kinch had hidden himself. The creature rose a few inches as the surrounding grass moved. The top of the creature had a seal running across the top of what appeared to be a crab-like shell.

  Kinch’s first thoughts were how to kill it. He would need to flip the creature and attack the underside or swing the blunt end of the bar into its side where he assumed legs were moving the grass around its body.

  He felt the push of movement from the edge of the glen coming closer to the crab creature. The crab’s eye stalks swiveled from Kinch’s direction with sudden speed to meet the danger, clicking a rapid warning and producing two great claws silhouetted high into the air.

  The ambushing thing rose in front of the round beast, lifting a tall, slender body out of the grass about three feet high. The outline of this horror was similar to a thick, fluid snake with rows of appendages like a centipede. The tall creature didn’t seem to have a defined head, until releasing a frightening high-pitched screech and flaring a wide hood from the sides of its neck, creating an impressive opponent.

  The shorter creature retreated into the light towards Kinch and could be seen more with clarity. The defensive invertebrate was a large crab-like creature with a high, round shell. It had multiple thin legs and two large claws brandishing their warning. Opposite the eye stalks was a long segmented tail which stood erect and came to a point like an ice pick.

  The tall creature accepted the given ground by the crab and followed from the shadows and into the blue light of the passage. The tiny head reflected a prism of colors from two compound eyes sitting atop a flared hood. The hood was a second layer of outstretched shell encasing its body. Small legs could be seen wiggling on its underside as two large claws descended from under the exposed hood of the centipede-like
insect.

  The centipede’s claws stretched to the side showing a wide range of movement. The situation seemed bad for the little crab, thought Kinch. The dauntless crab tucked its claws and rushed the centipede with speed faster than Kinch had witnessed moments before. The round creature sprang into the air many times its height and spun around in a blur, its tail extended. The centipede pushed its six foot long body back and up through the air, leaping from the spinning attack of the segmented tail. The crab landed, facing Kinch and did a half spin to face the centipede.

  The centipede seized the opportunity and sped towards the repositioning crab. They collided with hard clacking shells as the outlines of their bodies wrapped around each other in the darkness. The crab was tearing off legs from the underside of its opponent as it was enveloped in a swirling knot of shrieking centipede.

  The struggling ball tightened together like a writhing fist. With an ear-piercing screech, the tangle of death exploded outward as the crab was jettisoned from the center. It landed near the door, its full crab-like structure visible in the blue light. It should have had two claws and six legs under its shell, but it was missing a leg and fluid was dripping from the spot it should have occupied.

  The centipede gathered up in a slow and menacing stand facing the light, its glittering eyes set above the jagged mandibles of a horrible compound mouth. The long underbelly of the raised centipede glistened in the dim light with shiny liquid from its many torn and missing legs.

  The crab rocked in a forward and backward rhythm towards the centipede. The centipede tried to flank the crab with a quick lateral move. The crab spun again to face his foe. The hood of the centipede flared out and two large claws went wide, signaling an attack. It screeched a battle cry and lunged forward.

  The crab jumped high into the air again spinning its tail like a deadly weed trimmer. They collided again in mid-air and bounced apart. Torn by the whip-like tail, the centipede let out a series of long screeches as is flailed in the tall grass. The crab advanced toward the weakened opponent with claws up. The centipede fled into the tree line and could be heard crashing through the darkness.

  Kinch watched the crab with curiosity as it made small, systematic turns in a clockwise rotation by watching the outline of its eyes talks. It would rotate a few degrees, pause, and rotate again. It was searching for something. The creature rotated and faced Kinch - and stopped.

  The crab sat facing Kinch for and excruciating few moments. There was movement at the base of the eye stalks, tiny branched sensors netted the air for smells. The crab made a sudden dash toward Kinch with rapid speed. It came to an abrupt halt about four feet from where it started, in a direct line with where Kinch sat.

  Kinch eased the chiseled end from the ground ready for the speed and whip attack of the creature. The creature held its position, lifting its huge claws from under its body to reach through the grass for something. It recovered a large, severed claw from the defeated centipede, turned and sprinted through the grass from where it had come.

  A layer of tension evaporated from Kinch’s sick body. He exhaled deeply, leaned his sweating head against the rock and scanned the now familiar glade. There didn’t appear to be any immediate danger. Experience had taught him other opportunists would soon be drawn to this location by the noise of battle looking for a meal. He had to move, but movement in a foreign setting was more dangerous than digging in. If only there was someone to help.

  A thought flashed into his fevered brain. With the proof of Martian life all around him, is it possible Amica is real?

  He cleared his mind of survival plans and contingencies. He tried to concentrate on the unique sense of closeness he experienced during their last conversation and repeated her name in a slow cadence. A chill rippled through his weakening legs.

  Amica’s familiar presence linked with Kinch’s mind. “Kinch, I am here. You are weak - sick. Are you hurt in some way?”

  “Yes, I think I’m hurt. I really hope you are real and can help me. I’m no longer on the surface. I traveled down a tunnel to a blue door and walked through it. It did something to me, passing through made me sick.”

  “You went through the blue door? You are in Middle Mars? Of course, this is why you seem so close now. What do you see?”

  “It’s dark except for the light from the door. I did see some pretty nasty bugs trying to eat each other. And maybe me.”

  “Yes Kinch, they will eat you. You are in danger, remain still and silent, their vision is specialized to the dark. I will send Argus to you until we can arrive.”

  Another rush of sickness shivered through his body, “Argus. OK, tell him to bring some bug spray.”

  “Kinch, you are getting weaker. Stay with me.”

  The bridge with Amica failed as he dropped his head with exhaustion. His neck was weak and his head heavy as he closed his eyes, thinking he needed a moment to summon his strength. A few moments of rest was all that would be needed.

  The scraping sound of a sharp edge on metal jerked his body from a troubled sleep. He lifted his head to see a monstrous black crab running a large claw over the iron bar stretched before him. The crab lifted its claws high above its body at Kinch’s sudden movement and emitted a rapid series of clicks, preparing to attack.

  Kinch thrust the bar under the shiny black creature in a sudden lunge. He flung the monster spinning and whipping its deadly tail away from him in a single movement. The crab sailed from the ground and collided into the blue light of the door where it hung with a crackling, sizzling sound. It sputtered into flames and exploded, sending chunks of crab throughout the clearing. Half a dozen crabs alerted by what must have been a familiar sound of electrocution scurried from their hiding places to claim the body parts and begin a feeding frenzy.

  Feeling ill from the sudden action, he tried to remain standing, leaning all his weight on his staff. The ground began to roll and sway beneath him and he started to spin. He fell to his knees and vomited until the spinning stopped and he was empty.

  Feverish survivalist training came to his mind. The smell - it would bring the crabs closer - meat eaters. He had to move, had to hurry, it wasn’t safe here.

  He refocused on the far boundary of his vision with bleary eyes, sick and weak. He met the locked, piercing gaze of a thick, hairless wolf creature the height of a full-grown horse, stalking toward him. Terrified, Kinch tried to lift the iron bar above his head, but crumbled beneath its weight onto the ground unconscious.

  Familia

  When Kinch awoke he found he was in a clean, well-lighted room on a comfortable four post bed. Delicate white gauze billowed down from the corners. The smell of spicy sandalwood and floral sweetness filtered through the gauze canopy.

  He was dressed in his green jumpsuit with the missing left sleeve. Through the canopy he saw a small crowd of standing figures watching him. He sat up and spun his legs over the side of the bed.

  A familiar mental link reached him, distinct from additional links pushing into him, “Kinch, this is my family. You will discover a different effort is required to use your mind voice in a group. Try to open yourself to many streams of thought without fixating on a single connection.”

  He put his hand to his groggy forehead as if wiping away a dream that carries into the waking hours. A deep calmness filled him from the pleasant surroundings. The room had a welcoming touch of safety and security.

  The other personalities began to shape within his mind. “I think I can feel the others,” he thought. A warm sensation of laughter filled the space between them, putting him further at ease.

  “How do you feel my young friend?”

  “The best I have in a long time,” he thought as he lifted the mesh over his head. The five figures before him were dressed in white robes and tunics, covering their crimson skin. Kinch looked to the tallest of the group, a woman with long, straight black hair and high cheekbones. Her eyes were a dark blue, the color of what the artist called a “cerulean summer sky”.

&nbs
p; His stared at her thin frame, long limbs and graceful neck. She was familiar to him. Was it her, the woman who had communicated with him on the surface?

  Amica tilted a nod of affirmation, “It is our pleasure to have you as our most esteemed guest. You are welcomed to stay as family for as long as you wish.” Kinch felt tension from one of the mind links.

  A tall crimson boy close to his age, scowled from Amica to Kinch and stormed off. Amica smiled and continued, “of course, this situation is a big adjustment for all involved.” She bent to the faces of the remaining three children, “We will be on our best behavior to welcome Kinch as one of our family.

  The smallest girl responded to Amica’s attention, “I will share my bread with him, Amica.” She stole a shy glance at Kinch as his brain tingled with the new stimulus of two telepaths communicating.

  Amica praised her, “You are constant as the river, Dulcia. We will all follow your example.” She turned to Kinch, “You must be hungry. As you are willing, you should eat and regain your strength. It is your second morning since your sickness. Come, let us eat,” and she gestured toward the bedroom door.

  Kinch stood and stretched. The small children were absorbed in his movements as they snickered to each other with wide-eyed amazement. He led the way through the doorway and into a dining area. Little Dulcia was the first to run behind him through the door.

  The house was made of thick slabs of cut pink and white stone, expertly fitted together without mortar and joined with the ornate support timbers buttressing the carved wooden beams of the roof. As Kinch stood in the doorway looking down the step to kitchen and dining area, the impression hit him the tidy home was a once grand house which had fallen into disrepair. He stepped down and crossed to long, wooden table with benches.

  Amica spoke again looking to the eldest girl, “Pia, take Dulcia and Macarius and prepare the morning meal, please.” Pia nodded with an expression of pride and ushered the two younger children under her care to the kitchen. Amica turned back to Kinch who was inspecting the long wooden table, its wood glowed with deep tan and golden grains reflecting the light of the room like topaz.