The Phoenix Descent

by Chuck Grossart

  “A couple of hours, max. It was hard enough to convince him to stay strapped in for that long.”

  “Any lasting effects?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. We got to him quickly enough that he didn’t suffer any permanent damage. As far as I can tell.”

  “You saved his life, Lucas.”

  Lucas took his time responding. “The important thing is he’s alive, and, like you said, we’re going to need him. What have you found so far?”

  Sif was glad Lucas decided to change the subject. He was angry at her for leaving him and Hunter, but at the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. They could discuss it later.

  “When you said we were lucky to be alive, you were right. The ship suffered an electronic surge of some sort. It completely scrambled Liv’s brain.” She pointed to the burned-out circuit boards in a plastic bag floating above her left shoulder. Lucas reached out and grabbed them.

  “Jesus. What else?”

  “From what I can tell, Liv’s backup systems were able to keep all the primary systems functioning after they all reset. If the surge was any worse, we wouldn’t have ever known.”

  “What could cause a surge like that? Something internal?”

  “I don’t think so. Look at this,” Sif said, pointing to a screen above her head. “The thruster fuel levels are way down, port more than starboard. They were firing like crazy right before the surge.”

  “Liv was trying to maneuver?”

  “She was trying to keep us on course. Look. The main engines performed three unscheduled burns, one prior to and two after the surge. The first for fifteen seconds, after the port thrusters started firing, and then the second and third, each lasting almost a minute, after the surge.”

  “Did we hit something?”

  “Possibility. That might explain the thruster firings, and the mess,” Sif said, flicking a small package of replacement bolts that came loose from one of the storage compartments away from her face, sending it spinning, “but something big enough to knock us off course like that and knock so many things loose probably would’ve torn right through the ship. We won’t know for sure until we do an external inspection, but from what I’ve found so far, there’s no sign of any significant structural damage. It’s the duration of the thruster firings that has me puzzled, Lucas.”

  He studied the screen. “I see what you mean. It’s gradual, not sudden.”

  “Exactly. This is telling me we weren’t knocked off course, we were pulled. Slightly at first, then it became more pronounced, to the point that the port thrusters couldn’t compensate.”

  “That explains the first main engine burn.”

  “Yes. Liv fired the mains to try to pull us back on course.”

  “Did it work?”

  Sif shook her head. “I can’t answer that yet, Lucas. We’ve only got partial readouts right now. The primary nav system took quite a hit during the surge and failed shortly afterward. It’s still trying to reboot itself. The backup isn’t working.”

  “So we’re flying blind.”

  “Yes. We’re flying blind. When we get more of the systems up and running, we’ll know more, but as of this moment, I have no friggin’ clue where we are.”

  “Okay. You said there were two other burns after the surge, right?”

  “Yes. Both lasting sixty seconds.”

  “If Liv’s functioning was reduced following the surge, what commanded them?”

  Sif took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have a theory, and you’re not going to like it. Do you remember all the tech briefings they gave us in Houston?”

  “Oh God, yes. Bataan death march by PowerPoint. I wanted to dig my eyes out.”

  “Do you remember the four-day’er they gave us on Liv? The part about the fail-safe mode?”

  “The what? I must’ve dozed off during that part.”

  “If my theory is correct, and I have a pretty good feeling that it is, after the surge, and after Liv lost her mind—while we were all stuck in stasis—the ship did exactly what it was programmed to do.”

  “Which is?”

  “Resolute tried to take us home, Lucas. She tried to get us back to Earth.”

  Chapter 6

  “How could you let him do that?” Litsa ripped her goggles off and threw them to the dirt floor.

  “I tried to stop him, but he kicked me back down the ladder. He was—”

  “God damn you, Colin.” Litsa shoved him, hard, and heard his body slam into the dirt wall. She was furious, pumped full of adrenaline from being so close to one of those things, but immediately regretted her actions. Colin had tried to save Jeremy, but even with an injured ankle Jeremy was much bigger and stronger. If the tables were turned, and she was in Colin’s place, she doubted she could have stopped Jeremy, either, once he made up his mind about what he wanted to do.

  Being out in the light for so long affected her vision, and the interior of the middle haven—basically a hole in the ground with a trapdoor cover, which led to a small underground chamber—was still pitch-black. She could hear Colin sobbing softly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you tried.” She turned her head and tried to spit the horrid taste from her mouth, but her mouth was dry. The earthy scent of the chamber calmed her somewhat, but the pang of fear she felt cut right through, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. She shivered.

  “He’d do anything for you,” Colin said, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “When we saw the jumpers coming, I held him back, told him you were going to make it, and he stopped struggling until that last one landed right next to you. I tried to grab his leg, but he kicked me away. He said he was a burden now, to the rest of us, and he tried to save you.”

  A burden.

  Even if his injury healed badly, and his time in the fields ended, he still wouldn’t be a burden. He, and the rest of the clan, would find a way to work around it.

  Jeremy did not succumb right away. He died a slow, painful death, coughing, scratching at his eyes, at his mouth. Screaming. She had seen it before. She stared at the trapdoor above, locked tight. A metal bar extended through two loops fastened onto its underside, with both ends of the bar extending into the sides of the entrance tunnel, preventing it from being pulled open from the outside. She locked it, in case Jeremy tried to get back inside.

  By now, though, it was probably over. The transformation of a man she once called a friend was complete. The thing that he became would stumble back toward the hive—wherever it was—and become a part of it.

  Jeremy sacrificed himself, to save her life. He was big, clumsy, and simple, but he was the noblest man she ever knew.

  She would avenge his death.

  As her vision returned to normal, she could see Colin in the darkness, hanging his head and wiping his eyes with his hand. “How many jumpers did you see?”

  “Six. No, seven. Five off to the left—a little north of us—and two others that were much closer, including the one that almost got you.”

  The number of drones she saw—between forty and fifty—meant that the hive was probably a big one. Not easy to destroy, but they could inflict enough damage to force it to retreat.

  “We have about seven hours of daylight left, Colin. We have to get back to the Dak and tell them what we’ve seen. Joshua will need to send a scouting party tonight, to find the hive.”

  She watched Colin look up at the trapdoor. “You’re not going back up there, are you?”

  Litsa moved to the far wall, and probed the dirt with her fingers. “No, we’re not going outside. Not yet, anyway.”

  Colin stepped closer. “What are you doing?”

  Litsa found the spot she was searching for and started scooping the dirt away. “There’s a tunnel out of here, Colin.” She scooped handfuls of soft dirt from the wall and shoved them behind her. “It heads southwest about a half mile before it comes to the surface. Jensen and his boys dug it a few years back. A safety measure in case the R
iy decided to plant themselves outside the door.”

  “But it’ll still be daylight outside, and the Riy—”

  “If we hurry, we should be able to avoid them. And the direction they were heading would put them northeast of where we’ll come to the surface. There it is.” Litsa broke through the false wall, exposing the tunnel. “Do you want to go first?”

  “No,” Colin answered quickly. “I’ll follow you.”

  “It might be a little tight in places. If you get stuck, I might not be able to help you. There’s no room to turn around.”

  “Maybe I should stay here.”

  Just as well, as he would probably only slow her down. He would be safe here until nightfall. “Don’t open that door for another seven hours.” With that, Litsa crawled inside the tunnel.

  “Litsa?” Colin’s voice, from behind. “Tell Jessa I love her, and I’ll see her tonight.”

  In the heat of the moment she forgot Colin was married. When the others arrived back at the Dak without him, Jessa would surely be frantic. “I’ll tell her, Colin. Don’t worry.”

  Litsa scooted herself forward on her elbows, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter 7

  “I don’t see any other explanation for it, Hunter,” she said. “The thruster burns, the main engine firings, it just makes sense. We won’t be able to confirm it until we get Liv fully functional again and the nav system is back, but I think we may be on our way back home. Or headed off to who knows where.”

  Hunter rubbed his eyes. “How long until Liv is back on line?” he asked.

  “Autonomic functions are restored. It’s the voice interface that I’m having trouble with. The power surge really did a number on her. Keyboard queries aren’t there yet, either.”

  “External cameras?”

  “Not yet,” Lucas said. “Working on it.”

  “We’re going to have to do an EVA,” Hunter said. “What you’ve told me sounds plausible, but we need to know if there’s any external damage.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Sif replied, “but not ‘we.’ You’re grounded. Am I right, Lucas?”

  “I’m fine,” Hunter replied. “There’s no reason why—”

  “Caitlyn’s right, Hunter,” Lucas said, cutting him off. “The last thing you need to do right now is take a stroll outside.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m perfectly able.”

  Sif caught a little echo of ego in his voice and wasn’t about to let it pass. “It doesn’t matter? Are you kidding me? An hour ago, you were twitching in your capsule, full of the wrong chemicals at the wrong times, and Lucas here pulled a friggin’ Dr. Frankenstein on you to bring you back to life. You almost died, Lieutenant Colonel Webb, and I’m not about to put my life on the line doing an EVA with a partner I can’t count on. Not going to happen. I’m better off solo.”

  “Hold on, Commander. This is my mission.”

  “Don’t even go there, Hunter. Our mission was over as soon as Liv fired the mains the first time. You know it, and I know it. From that point on, our trip to Mars was over. We had just enough fuel to get there and back, with not a whole lot of fuel on the margins. Our margin went to shit at eight seconds on that first burn. So don’t stand there and pull rank on me. We’re all in this together, and if we want to survive—if that’s even possible—we need to cut the crap and work together.” She probably pushed it a little too far, based on the look in Hunter’s eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or hurt. Or both. “We’re wasting time,” Sif said, ending the conversation. “I’m suiting up.”

  Sif unstrapped herself from her pilot’s station and pushed herself toward the corridor, expecting Hunter to respond. He didn’t. She stopped herself at the exit and turned her body to face them. “Lucas, I’m going to need a hand.”

  Sif saw Hunter was staring at her, the same look in his eyes. She was surprised by what he said next.

  “Stem to stern, Commander. Give her a thorough going-over. We need to know exactly where we stand.”

  “Copy that,” Sif said.

  Sif slid her body into the lower portion of the suit as Lucas unlatched the upper half from the wall and moved it into position.

  “So what the hell was all that about?” Lucas asked.

  “I lost it a little there, didn’t I?”

  “Yes. You did.”

  “You think I was wrong, then.”

  “Does it really matter to you what I think?”

  Sif was a little taken aback by Lucas’s tone. “Okay, look. I was too hard on him. I’ll admit it. And I was probably wrong to leave you with him, too.”

  “You said it yourself, Caitlyn. He almost died a little over an hour ago, and as soon as he’s partially able to wrap his head around that, you throw mission failure in his face. Not your best moment.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Yes, it was.” Lucas shook his head. “For as long as I’ve known you two, you’ve competed against each other. I don’t know if it’s a fighter pilot thing, an Air Force–Navy thing, or whatever, but hardly a moment goes by when one of you isn’t trying to outdo the other. Am I wrong?”

  “We’re both competitive people. Sure. That’s how we got to where we are. Same for you, Lucas. You’re no slacker when it comes to trying to get ahead.”

  “The difference is, I’m a scientist, not a fighter jock. I fought my battles in a classroom and a lab, not a cockpit. Put your arms up.”

  Sif raised her arms, and Lucas lowered the upper portion of the suit over her head. He fastened the connectors at the waist and checked to make sure they were tight.

  “What do you want me to say, Lucas? He’s good at what he does, and so am I. You throw two type A personalities in the same room, and they’re bound to butt heads once in a while.”

  Lucas clicked the suit gloves into place. “All I’m saying is you need to cool it a little. When you said we need to work as a team in order to survive, you were right. How do they feel?”

  Sif flexed her fingers, moved her arms around. “It’s good. The only way we’re going to get through this is by working together. Throw away the duty titles and ranks and get our butts home. If we can. Check the left one, it feels a little loose.”

  Lucas jiggled the glove. “It’s tight. And I agree with you completely. You need to take your own advice, though.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Work with him, Caitlyn, not against him. This isn’t a competition anymore.”

  Lucas was right. She was too quick to confront Hunter and went overboard when she did. “Okay, fine. I’ll try harder next time, Dad. And by the way, I hate it when you call me Caitlyn.”

  Lucas smiled. “I know you do, but I don’t do call signs. I’m not a flyer, remember?”

  Sif smiled back. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be a pilot.” She was happy to see Lucas’s grin widen a little at the dig. “Are you going to attach my helmet, or am I going to have to hold my breath?”

  “I’ll gladly put it on if it means I don’t have to listen to you anymore. The bio-readout for the suit isn’t functioning yet, so you’re going to be on your own out there.”

  “So if my heart goes pitter-patter, you’ll never know.”

  “Right. I also won’t know if something’s wrong, so be careful and monitor yourself. You feel any changes in your temperature, breathing, see condensation on the inside of your visor, anything that’s out of the ordinary and you get back here pronto.”

  “Got it.” Sif tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. Hoover. I think you need a call sign, too, Lucas. How about Sucker?”

  “Like the vacuum. Hilarious.”

  “Oh come on. It’s a badge of honor.”

  Lucas clicked Sif’s helmet into place. “Ah, sweet silence. Just in time.”

  Chapter 8

  Litsa approached the Dak entrance from the south, having decided to avoid a direct route from the tunnel exit, just in case the Riy made it this far.

  S
he knelt beside an outcropping of rocks and surveyed the terrain before her. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and she was sure the drones were on their way back to the hive. The jumpers, though, were different. Sometimes they would return, and sometimes not. She didn’t see anything, but she would still have to be careful. After all she went through today, the last thing she wanted to do was stumble across a jumper within sight of home, especially since her bow was lying in the dirt by the middle haven. She felt naked without it.

  The main entrance to the Dak was closed, just as it should be, sealed tight until nightfall. From the outside, the entrance was camouflaged, appearing as a natural part of the hillside beneath which she had lived a good portion of her life. Higher up, on the crest of the hill, was the watchers’ station, where earlier that day the two warning bells sounded. It, too, was hidden, tucked within a stand of ponderosa pine.

  About fifty yards beyond the Dak’s entrance was the secondary portal, a small, natural vent that led inside to a point just a few yards from the cave entrance. It, too, was hidden, located at the bottom of a depression filled with white rabbitbrush and masked in the shadows beneath a large, overhanging boulder. The Dak had many vents that reached to the surface, but only this one was large enough to accommodate a person. It was used by those who were the last to enter at daybreak and the first to emerge at nightfall—the door handlers and the watch stander—and in emergencies.

  She was dirty and thirsty, and the sunlight played havoc with her eyes. Even though the light was considerably dimmer than before, having to squint continuously had given her a splitting headache. She longed for the cool dampness of her home and the sense of safety that came from being surrounded by walls of rock.

  She stood, and after taking one last, long glance to the east and seeing nothing but lengthening shadows, she made her way to the secondary portal and crawled inside.

  “He’s going to be fine, Jessa,” Litsa said, trying to get a word in between the woman’s sobs. “Nothing can get to him in the haven. I wouldn’t have left him there if he was in danger.” She cupped Jessa’s face in her hands, forced her to look at her. “You know that, right?”