“I won’t hold my breath waiting for the final tally.” Erica walked over to the mover, her khaki fatigues standing out against the orange ground. Although the Holy Whisper settlement was five miles away, they’d requested that their Human Defense Force visitors not wear uniforms. The tan fatigues had no insignia, and were as close to civilian expedition gear as the two soldiers had been willing to go. Varick unclipped one of the Scorpion rifles from the mover’s rack, and checked to make sure it was ready to fire. “I’ll do the walk, while you monitor.”
Holding the rifle with familiarity, the tall Banshee strode off across the flat. Watching her easy movement, Mortas looked down at his leg brace with disappointment. Fine grit had formed in his mouth, reminding him of the dust and dirt of this desolate place, and he spat it out before heading for the mover. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he activated the control panel and waited for it to sync up with the shelter’s defense systems.
A diagram appeared on the monitor, indicating their home as a small circle at the center of a much larger one. The outer circle was a series of hidden ground sensors, and they were already picking up Varick’s movements. She was walking quickly, and was almost outside the invisible perimeter. Mortas considered launching one of the surveillance drones, which would change the display to the real-time imagery he’d grown used to in combat, but decided it wasn’t necessary. Instead, he selected a narrow tube from a compartment in the vehicle’s door and raised it to his lips.
Leaning his head back, he blew into the tube and watched as a slim dart shot upward and then extended gossamer wings. The wings fluttered briefly, and then disappeared as they achieved their full motion. Known as a dragonfly, the tiny surveillance drone began flying in a circle above him while its electronics linked up with the shelter’s system. The monitor went white for a moment, and then shifted to an overhead image that expanded to show the surrounding terrain.
The shelter was in the middle of a level expanse dotted with rocks, and Mortas confirmed that none of the planet’s serpent-filled waterways was anywhere near. The orbiting dragonfly connected with the perimeter sensors, and even though Varick was still walking away it pointed her out with a flashing red arrow.
Mortas changed the settings to pick up heat as well as movement, and a second arrow indicated where he sat in the mover. Pulling out his handheld, he spoke into it. “Okay, I see you. The sensors are picking both of us up. Start walking back.”
The image jumped abruptly, and then started to go fuzzy as the dragonfly ran out of power. A moment later the diagram reappeared, and Mortas flinched when the dying aerobot hit the mover’s roof. The sensors still indicated Erica’s position, and when she was a hundred yards away they both got a signal. Mortas’s handheld strobed a series of red and yellow lines, and then a text appeared on the screen informing him that a human life form was approaching the perimeter.
Out in the open, Varick’s handheld called out a warning that Mortas was able to hear. “Attention! You are approaching a secure area, with an armed defensive perimeter. Stop where you are, and enter the proper passcode. If you do not know the passcode, leave the area immediately. If you remain, or come any closer, you will receive one warning shot and one warning shot only. If you remain, or come any closer after that, you will be killed.”
He watched the tan figure tapping the sequence into the handheld, and then his own device informed him that one Varick, Erica, had been cleared to approach. Although Varick was also receiving that message, he called her anyway. “You’re all clear. System’s only set to electrical shock right now, anyway.”
“You ever been zapped? It’s no fun.” Erica continued speaking as she walked in. “One mission, I ran straight into three rolls of reactive wire near this one Sim blockhouse. The voltage isn’t supposed to penetrate a powered suit, but I guess all that wire multiplied it.”
“That must have hurt. Did it latch onto you?”
“Of course. Designed that way. I was lucky, in that most of it was staked down, but Sam likes to leave a few strands loose so they can reach out and grab on. My suit electronics started flashing all sorts of alarms, it hurt like hell, so I had to get out of there right away. I squatted down and kicked hard. The suit did the rest, and I went up in the air like a rocket. Broke the wire that had me, but then gravity took over.”
She got close enough to be heard, and put the device away. “I landed on the roof of the blockhouse. Looked like a total idiot, but I wasn’t there long. So much junk was being shot at that bunker that a concussion wave blew me right off it.”
“And you landed in another patch of wire. Right?”
“Worse than that. They had an open-air latrine back there. I’ll spare you the details.”
“Thanks. I do have one question. Sounds like you were fighting on solid ground on a Hab. I thought the Banshees were reserved for places where there’s no atmosphere, or the terrain’s really bad.”
“Ideally, yes. But every now and then you infantry types can’t get the job done and they throw in a Banshee outfit if one’s available.” She fixed him with a challenging leer. “The grunts who were supposed to force a breakthrough had gotten pinned down, so Command figured a few powered suits would do the trick.”
“Did it?”
“Lucky for me, yes. You see, I landed hard in that slit trench, and was basically wedged. Couldn’t get my legs under me, and no amount of arm pressure from the suit was going to move those walls.”
“You’re kidding. You mean you were still there when they broke through?”
“Oh, it’s not as embarrassing as all that. Landing in that hole probably saved my life. The rocket teams finally blew that emplacement to pieces, and the blast went right over me. I got buried under the chunks, and had to be rescued.”
“I bet your troops thought that was pretty funny. Mine would have.”
“Sure they did. You shoulda heard the jokes when they pulled me out. But I didn’t care—I was literally in deep shit.”
The two soldiers laughed together, and Mortas heaved himself out from behind the steering wheel. “Want to go visit the neighbors?”
“No reason to stand on ceremony.” Erica looked down at his leg brace. “I’ll drive.”
“We always set up next to a major water source, but we try not to disturb the local habitats.” The Holy Whisperer named Dru explained the tall fencing in the slow-moving river. He and a female Whisperer named Felicity had come out to meet Mortas and Varick when they’d approached the settlement’s buried perimeter. They were waiting for instructions to bring their guests into the colony, and had decided to show them the apparatus for dealing with the snakes.
“That holds them off?” Mortas had stopped a good ten yards from the sloping bank. A high black fence made of crisscrossing mesh stood in the middle of the river, gently curving up onto the ground on two sides. The waterway was still open around the obstacle, and water flowed straight through it. The yellow grass of Jander’s memory had been cleared from the riverbank in the enclosed area, but it grew freely elsewhere.
“We haven’t had a problem so far.” Dru reminded Mortas of Gorman. Young, healthy, sandy hair, and a cheerful disposition. Felicity was a dark-haired version of Dru, and they’d both seemed pleased by the social call. “We’ve got sensors in the fencing, and in the water upstream and down for warning. The snakes were very interested in us for a while, but they’ve returned to their normal patterns.”
“When I was here, their normal pattern was to sneak up on anything they could eat.”
Varick turned to look at the low domes of the small colony. “How does this barrier fit into the general scheme of things here?”
“We’ve got pipes running under the ground that come out here. There’s an identical site on the other side of the settlement. The intakes are heavily screened, of course.”
“So why fence off such a large area?”
“It gets pretty hot here, in case you didn’t notice.” Felicity exchanged a smile with Dru. “Af
ter a hard day’s work, there’s nothing like a dip in some cold water.”
“You’re kidding me.” Mortas almost didn’t get the words out. The memory of the snapping jaws and the churning water made his mouth dry. “Doesn’t that attract them by the dozens?”
“Certainly. You should see the footage. But they can’t come out on the banks and they can’t get through the fence, so there’s really nothing to worry about. They’re fascinating creatures.”
Erica had shifted so the two Whisperers couldn’t see her face. She gave Jander a hard expression, and he stifled his more natural response. “Fascinating. I always found them so.”
A radio clipped to Dru’s collar beeped, and he listened as they were cleared to enter the colony. “All right. They found Elder Paul, and he’s eager to meet you.”
Dru and Felicity headed for their mover, and Varick fell in next to Mortas as he stiff-legged toward their own vehicle.
“Jan, I know this place is full of bad memories, but could you lighten up a little? We need these people.”
“I’m trying to help them. They think those monsters are interesting. And that you can go skinny-dipping with them.” He hauled himself into the passenger seat. “Imagine what they think of the alien.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say.” Varick made no move toward the driver’s side. “If we’re going to assess this scene, it would help to have the HWs speaking freely. That seems to be their natural inclination, but I suspect they’re like anybody else. They’ll shut up around a grousing stranger who obviously thinks they’re fools.”
“Okay.” Mortas considered the wisdom of the words. “You sound like my dad. He was always looking for an angle to play.”
“It’s not an angle. We have a job to do, and if the alien is trying to fool us like you expect, we’re gonna need all of the honesty we can find.”
“Something tells me this Elder Paul is going to be overflowing with that.” Mortas looked through the windshield while Erica crossed in front. The colony only had fifty members, and so it took up a relatively small footprint. Three sand-colored domes sat flush with the orange earth, the top floors of underground buildings. An assortment of antennae sprouted in various places, and Mortas recognized two tall towers as water processors. The colony’s spacedrome was on the other side, and he watched one of its shuttles lifting off. Varick spoke while starting the engine.
“When we meet their head man, let’s turn up the deference. He probably thinks we’re a pair of savages, fresh from the war, so a little civility’s likely to go a long way.” Dru and Felicity were waving at them, so Varick waved back. “I’ll bet you he looks like an Old Testament prophet.”
Elder Paul was thirty years old, and looked younger. His dark skin showed only a few trace wrinkles, and his energy was magnetic.
“I think you’ll find this particularly interesting.” He uttered the words while leading them into a large room with harsh lighting. They’d already passed through the settlement’s communal hall—Elder Paul had told them that every Whisperer station had one—and several connecting tunnels, being greeted by every colonist they passed. The oldest Whisperer was no more than forty, while a few were teenagers. The settlement was a busy place, and just about everyone they met wore coarse work clothing and boots.
Elder Paul had started out at a brisk pace, but he’d slowed down after noting Mortas’s struggles in keeping up. He stopped now, standing over a waist-high table filled with brown dirt. Rows of similar stands filled the room, and a trio of colonists were inspecting one of them a few yards away. Based on the dirt and the lighting, Mortas decided the place was some kind of botanical laboratory.
“See this soil? Doesn’t resemble anything you see outside, but it’s native. Amazing, right?”
Varick leaned over, inspecting the dirt. “Looks pretty moist. How’s that possible?”
“First, there’s a surprising amount of water under the ground. Not just near the rivers, either. The plant life adapted to the more arid areas, with interconnected root systems that in some cases stretch for thousands of yards.
“But this sample here has been modified. I understand that you observed the results of the Sims’ so-called ‘mud munitions’ when you were here, Lieutenant?”
“The aftereffects, Elder. The Sim ordnance was fired into the dirt, and turned it into deep mud in a matter of minutes. It hardened up shortly after that, but by then it had trapped most of the vehicles that tried to assault the Sim compound.”
“We heard about that, and examined the site. The Sims have quite the green thumb, and have succeeded in growing food crops in some surprising environments. We took samples from the battlefield you mentioned, and also scoured the remains of the Sim settlement for clues regarding that ammunition.”
“What did you find?” asked Varick.
“The HDF units that destroyed the settlement removed all of the mud munition rounds that were left, but we did find some damaged soil samples in a ruined laboratory. We weren’t able to reverse-engineer their process, but we succeeded in identifying some of its properties.” Elder Paul brought his eyes level with the dirt, and pointed at a single green needle that had broken through. “See that? That shoot comes from a non-native seed, planted in the augmented soil. We’re very excited.”
“You should be careful with that,” Mortas offered. “I was also on Fractus, and saw what happened when the mud munitions got out of control. The effect basically ran away with itself.”
Elder Paul straightened up, looking pained. “I’ve read everything about that tragedy that’s been made available. What a disaster.”
For a moment Mortas thought he was referring to the enormous loss of life in the chaotic battle, but then he saw that the man was speaking in an environmental sense. Varick gave him an expectant look, and he responded. “I was close to the impact area, and observed the progress of the mud field and the resulting cyclone. I’d be happy to tell you what I saw.”
“That would be splendid. Thank you so much. We try very hard not to destabilize the ecology where we land, and Fractus demonstrated that even the authors of this technique didn’t fully understand it.” He stopped, appearing to consider a new notion. “Would you consider speaking to the settlement as a whole? This concerns everyone.”
“I’m not sure everyone would find it interesting. I have no special training in this field, and from the look of things you’ve got a few experts.”
“We’ve certainly got our share of specialists in different sciences, but as you may have noticed, the median age here is pretty young. They’re all bright, but they won’t pick up any advanced degrees until they’ve done a complete tour with a colony.”
“Why is that?” Erica asked.
“Off-planet service is very important to our community as a whole, so we instituted a few rules like that one. We don’t really need to motivate our young people to go out, but after a certain age you’d be surprised by how many of our members get a little too fond of life at Pacifica.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me at all. You just described the difference between field soldiers and headquarters types in the HDF.”
“Now that is an unexpected comparison.” Elder Paul looked at Jander. “Getting back to our original topic, I was already going to ask you to address our members if you wouldn’t mind. We named this colony Gorman Station, in memory of Roan Gorman, and you knew him well. We would really like to know more about him and his sacrifice.”
“I can’t say I knew him all that well, Elder.”
“Please. Call me Paul.”
“In that case, I’m Jander and this is Erica.”
“Jander. Erica. Welcome.” Elder Paul regarded them as if seeing them for the first time. “And I think you’re being modest about knowing Roan. He died in your arms.”
“He died saving my life.”
“And Amelia’s.”
“Excuse me?” The words leapt from his mouth, but Mortas stopped himself. “Oh, you’re referring to the alien t
hat impersonated Amelia Trent.”
“Actually, our visitor asked us to call her Amelia as well. She’s been exceedingly forthcoming, about her non-human nature as well as her role in assisting the Sims. While she was staying with us, she addressed the entire community and told us a great deal about Roan.”
“The creature we met on this planet was incinerated soon after Gorman died. The alien who visited you did not know him.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She was very familiar with your travails on this planet, which we initially found hard to understand. When we asked for an explanation, she said her species shares an almost psychic link that allows every member to experience everything that happens to every other member.” Elder Paul considered his next words, and then went ahead. “She spoke very highly of you.”
“I’m sure it did.” Jander ignored Erica’s light kick to his brace. “It deceived me, along with Chartist Gorman and a Spartacan Scout named Cranther. Gorman and Cranther both died saving me and that thing, and the whole time it was lying to us.”
“I know who Tel Cranther was, and who he was to Roan. When we landed here, we asked the HDF to provide us with their best estimate of where you buried him.”
“I piled rocks on him. I didn’t have the tools, or the strength, to dig a grave.”
“Excuse me, Paul,” Varick cut in. “Why were you interested in Cranther’s resting place?”
“They didn’t tell you?” Elder Paul was sincerely flummoxed. “Roan’s people asked to have him interred here, once we established the colony. We thought it was only fitting that his friend rest beside him. We found the cairn you built, Jander, and moved his remains. Tel Cranther and Roan Gorman are buried side by side, on a small hill not far from here.”
Later that night, Mortas and Varick sat outside their shelter in folding chairs. They’d just finished dinner, and a companionable silence had settled over them. One of their radios had been set to periodically broadcast the signal notifying the alien of their arrival, but so far there had been no response. The stars were bright overhead, and the perimeter sensors were active.
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