Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  Regrouping his efforts, Gordy felt relieved when the coast of the mainland appeared. They had made it over the ocean at least. Again, he disregarded the data that the console fed him, and instead, peered out the windshield. Land flashed by close enough to distinguish mountains and woodlands. Anthum was a diverse planet, lush with greenery right up to the white coastal strips. Aulo was visible on the console, already well behind them. They had passed too wide of the target.

  “We can’t make another pass,” the elder pointed out. “We invested all our power into the shields.”

  Scrutinizing the controls, Gordy curled his hand into a fist trying to overpower the vessel, but the ship had a different agenda. With sickening inevitability, he and the three men resigned to their fates.

  Recognizing that they were going down, Gordy focused on the new concern at hand. At their current location, the mainland was rocky with few options to accommodate a craft of this size.

  “There!” He pointed to a channel between the mountains, a fissure that poured into a substantial clearing.

  “The shoreline is too craggy to land,” he explained to the elder, who nodded in agreement. “That spot ahead is the only level terrain. If we keep going, we’ll lose control of the ship and crash into one of the mountains.”

  “Can you do it?” the engineer asked with an edge to his tone.

  “I guess we’re going to find out,” Gordy mumbled.

  Worrying about his skills was a pointless indulgence. There was no time. Gordy commanded the console, urgently calling out orders to the young Warrior who also shed his nerves in the face of adversity.

  In the background a JOH announced vacuous words of assurance to the passengers. Gordy felt perspiration bead on his forehead, but he concentrated on the channel between the mountains, tipping the bulky body of the craft to avoid clipping a rock wall.

  “Engaging reverse thrusters,” he called out.

  The effect was immediate, knocking the occupants of the command center off balance. He hoped the passengers had adhered to their commands and stayed locked in their seats.

  Ship Tok was slowing down, but the clearing was approaching all too fast. There were additional retro rockets designed to decelerate. They had gone unused because Anthum’s thick atmosphere did the job. With little time to contemplate it, Gordy activated several of those rockets.

  “What are you doing?” the elder cried out. “Those are meant to go off in the exosphere.”

  Ignoring the outburst, Gordy focused on corralling the behemoth.

  Slow. Slow. Slow. He chanted mutely. Once, he and Aimee had repeated the same mantra. They tamed the white elephant. He would subdue this beast.

  Gradually it responded. It had been beaten, and now succumbed to his commands with an eagerness to please. With an abundance of caution, he hovered over the landing spot, analyzing the readouts of the surface to confirm the ground would sustain the weight. Gravity. It always took some getting used to.

  Finally, with a thud that barely registered in the soles of his shoes, Ship Tok came to rest on the surface of Anthum.

  JOH’s voice filled the ship with cautions for everyone to remain in their seats until further instructed.

  As was tradition, the pilot would be the first to disembark. Gordy stepped back from the console. No one met his eyes. No one offered encouragement. This was a dour group. And his was an uncertain mission.

  Slipping into the corridor, Gordy passed rows of anxious faces–passengers still strapped into the auxiliary seats. He made eye contact with his parents, managing a brief nod of assurance before he hastened to the exit portal.

  Standing before the portal, he grabbed a Star Laser and clipped it to his belt. As the heavy door rumbled open, he took the weapon off and held it before him.

  These were his people. This was his land. But, caution was his ruler.

  JOH bobbed beside him, startling him.

  “There are no life forms in the immediate area, Gordeelum.”

  “Yes, JOH.” Gordy suddenly appreciated the droid’s company. “I saw the readouts.”

  “You are carrying a Star Laser,” JOH pointed out.

  “The readouts had a tight circumference. This is just for caution.”

  “But there are no life forms,” JOH reiterated.

  Gordy tipped his head back and sighed. The rumbling ceased and he looked down. The ramp led to a rocky surface, peppered with tufts of grass and mossy green patches.

  Still ensconced in the protective cloud of oxygen from the Horus, he asked, “Can you confirm the oxygen levels outside, JOH?”

  Pleased to have a task, JOH’s blue face split into a grin. “Certainly. There is a mix of carbon monoxide and nitrogen, trace amounts of sulfur dioxide, as well as water vapors. But, the oxygen level is at 22%. From what I understand it is a perfect blend for mecaws, and most humans.”

  “Are you coming with me?” Gordy asked.

  JOH’s black eyes flattened. “You know I cannot stray far from a Horus-based craft. It sustains me.”

  Yes, he knew that, but suddenly he longed for the company of this animated drone.

  “I will be back shortly,” he assured. “Please make sure everyone stays seated.”

  Why? In case of an emergency departure?

  Ship Tok did not have the power to take off from land. It was able to unlock in space and remain autonomous, but it was designed to land only once.

  Gripping the Star Laser, he descended a few steps down the platform. He could feel the dry tendrils of oxygen from the ship give way to the humid gasses of Anthum. He drew in a few cautionary breaths and continued his descent. With little fanfare, he took that last stride and stood on the solid ground of his home planet.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Aimee stared out across the water. It could have been any ocean–the Atlantic, the Pacific. It drilled swells towards a white sandy beach where they extended into innocent swaths of lather. Perhaps the sand was more pink than white. Perhaps the water was more turquoise than the Atlantic or Pacific. Still, this ocean harbored the same mysterious horizon of any sea on Earth–a black line as far away as the human eye could register. It was that ebony band that drew her.

  “He’s out there, Zak. Gordy is out there,” she focused on that narrow strip. “You’re sure he made it to the mainland? You’re sure the ship didn’t–” She dared not voice the question.

  Zak’s earnest profile did nothing to allay her fears. He crowned his hand over his eyes.

  “The last indication from Ship Pul was that the Tok had been caught in a microburst,” he said. “The shear was too great for him to fight it, but Ship Pul did report that they saw Gordy targeting a clearing, and was in the process of landing.”

  Aimee’s shoulders slumped. She glanced down at her sparkling abdomen satisfied that the fabric remained a sharp silver.

  “Can he still make it here…to the island?”

  Zak shook his head. “Not in that craft.”

  “Then we have to find a way to get to him–to the others. There were what, 200, 300 people on his ship?”

  “More like 200 or less, I believe, but yes, we’ll work to cross this ocean. We have no terra angels. All were lost when the launch bay broke off in space. Maybe Aulo is in possession of space crafts.”

  “How about a boat?” She glanced up and down the coast.

  The sight was hauntingly beautiful, but at the moment the beauty was lost to her. A glorious temple with thick stone columns dissected by winding ivy sat atop a craggy shoreline. Wide marble staircases descended into the sand. Further down the shore she saw others from the Horus, similarly staring out to sea. Most with awed smiles–enthusiasm at starting a new life on this lush island.

  “We have to see, Zer-shay,” Zak quietly assured. “The elders will know what this island holds.”

  “JOH told me that the entire population of Anthum was killed off by the virus. The only survivors were the ones who made it onto the Horus when it was built on this island.”


  “Yes, that is correct. When the cure for the virus was created–err, when you helped create it–some of the Horus passengers came back here on the last LifeQuest. They reported that the planet was void of mecaw life and that they were going to attempt to rebuild on Aulo because they felt safe here. The mainland was uncharted yet.” Zak spread his hands. “Now, with the entire Horus population returning they may outgrow the island and send an exploration crew across the ocean to research the mainland’s viability.”

  He touched her shoulder. “Let’s find Vodu. I’m sure he will have some answers, and then we’ll look into where we’re going to stay. You need some rest.”

  Ready to protest, Aimee’s eyebrows knitted. But, Zak was right. As much as she wanted to tackle everything at once, she was very tired. The loss of control ate at her.

  One final glimpse of the shore with its ghostly temples, she noticed a solitary figure in the distance–in the opposite direction of the new influx of visitors. The profile was hunched, darting furtively amongst the ruins until it was finally lost from sight.

  “Zak, did you see–?”

  “Hey,” he touched her elbow. “There’s Vodu. Let’s go talk to him.”

  ***

  Beyond Aulo’s picturesque shoreline sat a fertile valley. It stretched in sage waves until it bumped up against the base of a mountain range. Atop those peaks, a great sun burnished, grappling to hold on before it toppled behind the summit.

  “What a vast island,” Aimee remarked as she studied the bulky shadows of the four Horus modules parked in a distant field. The last ship was already claimed by darkness at the foot of the ridge.

  “Yes.” Vodu crossed his arms, staring off in their direction.

  Maybe it was the onset of dusk, but he seemed younger. The wrinkles beside his blue eyes were more blurred than carved.

  “Many have opted to stay aboard their ships for the night–especially those who can still access their quarters.”

  “Oh,” Aimee exclaimed. “Maybe we should do that, Zak. The Ceb isn’t that far away.”

  “Good idea.”

  His abrupt response harbored more meaning. Her husband seemed uneasy, with his jaguar eyes dissecting the movements of the passengers, the idle ships, and the nearest temple with its tarnished white façade that looked violet in the encroaching dusk. Later, when they were alone she would ask about his unease.

  “Are there any plans underway to locate Gordy’s ship?” She got right to the point.

  Vodu’s serenity faded. He glanced down at the ground and budged the fine pebbles with the toe of his boot.

  “All of our technology was stored aboard the Horus when it originally departed. We weren’t sure we would ever be back and could not risk leaving anything behind.”

  “And you lost the launch bay, so, there are no crafts to cross the ocean?” Aimee filled in. “Nothing aboard any of these modules that we can use?”

  Vodu shook his head. “The entire terra fleet is gone. But Gordy is resourceful. I have no doubt that he and his crew are just fine. And we will find a way to get to him.”

  Another man with an edge to his eyes. Her unease grew by the moment.

  “Why don’t you get some rest, Vodu.” she suggested. “I understand there will be a meeting in the town square tomorrow?”

  She turned to gaze down a stone block avenue, an overgrown thoroughfare nestled between the temples and the craggy crest of the shore. Somewhere down that road sat the town square.

  “Very well,” Vodu uttered. “Sleep well, both of you. This will all work out.”

  ***

  As soon as she and Zak were back in their quarters on Ship Ceb, Aimee turned to him.

  “Spill it. What is troubling you?”

  “Your perceptive abilities, perhaps?” he chuckled.

  Aimee pursed her lips and plopped her rear against the shimmering pedestal bed. She was happy they returned to the ship. There had been no opportunity to visit any of the buildings that looked like pantheon replicas, but she envisioned stone alter beds instead of the plush comfort offered by the Horus.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” she challenged.

  Rather than placate her, Zak rubbed his face. “I’m concerned. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Concerned with what?”

  “That we made the wrong decision. I don’t feel comfortable here. Ziratak. That is in my blood. I feel comfortable there. The Horus. That has been my home. I feel comfortable there. Earth. That is my wife’s home, and I like macaroni and cheese. I feel comfortable there. Here–”

  He swept his arm at the window and Aimee followed it. It was surreal to have a view other than the bleak void of space. Now, dusk encroached on a foreign vista. The black silhouettes of domed buildings, some flanked by scaffolding clashed against a hypnotic crimson sunset.

  “How could we have known?” she challenged quietly. “I thought the Horus was indestructible.”

  Zak turned to face her. His eyes dropped to the swell filling her shiny top. “Tomorrow I’ll start investigating. We’ll talk with Raja and make sure you are going to be okay here. We’ll stay in these quarters and make use of the Bio Ward for as long as we can.”

  Aimee wanted to argue that they needed to get to Gordy, but she had to grudgingly accept that fatigue was consuming her. Fatigue was a weakness. And she hadn’t expected that pregnancy would produce such a drastic effect.

  Instead, she clamped her lips shut and nodded.

  Zak raised an eyebrow. “No challenges?”

  She shook her head.

  Zak chuckled. “No challenges. Maybe Anthum isn’t so bad after all.”

  ***

  “Chara!”

  Aimee rushed forward to loop her arms around the woman’s neck. She pulled back and studied the attractive face. This was the first person she had ever met on the Horus. A kind and beautiful soul who had taken pity on her after being plucked from the woods on the other side of the pond. The violet eyes were lighter under the sting of the sun, but her dark blonde hair glowed magnificently, and though there were hints of aging, Chara seemed timeless.

  “Aimee. Zak. I’m so happy to see you both. And look at you.” She beamed at Aimee’s midsection. “How wonderful.”

  A curtain fell across her mirth. “But, I guess your visit to Anthum wasn’t exactly voluntary. And, I imagine you have some concerns.”

  Chara was dressed in a flowing white gown that rippled in the breeze. A slim silver headdress pinned her lengthy hair away from her face.

  “I have a thousand questions,” Aimee said, ignoring Zak’s roll of the eye.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Chara offered. “I’ll show you around and answer whatever I can.”

  As they negotiated the stone road, Aimee tread cautiously around nicks and cracks in the rock slabs, Anthum’s version of potholes. Zak’s hand secured around her elbow as he murmured, “Look over there.”

  In the field, just before the first ship, a small herd of Sumpum plodded in a close circle, their extended bodies looking like inchworms on the prowl.

  “They are from the Horus, right?” she asked her him. “Not here?”

  “Yes, these were let loose from the Horus. We can hope there are some Sumpums still running wild on the mainland, although I understand most fell victim to the same virus. Perhaps this little group here can revitalize the species.”

  Watching the black and white tousle-headed creatures sniff the grass, Aimee felt a brief moment of contentment. The Atrium on the Horus had been a splendid recreation of nature with its lush vegetation and wildlife, but these sponge-footed sloths were going to be much happier in the great outdoors.

  “How was it to come back here, Chara? I mean, after so much time away?”

  Chara’s gaze searched the alley of homes ahead–two and three-storied gothic marble structures with lofty colonnades linking them. They showed signs of neglect, but at the same time, a small group of men and women in loose-fitting white garments were busily buffing the far end
of the walkway. Like a pack of gazelle, they looked up in unison, and gave Chara a wave.

  “It was surreal. Coming back to an abandoned planet. All these dwellings worn and empty...” Chara’s profile revealed a twinge of melancholy. “When we arrived, we represented such a small contingent. Many of the youth aboard the Horus had never even seen Anthum. Only some of the elders chose to return.”

  She reached out and grazed her hand on a sturdy marble column, the diaphanous fabric of her dress sliding through the air like a sheet on a clothesline.

  “We’ve done the best we could to revive it–there have been challenges–but having the Horus return–it will be the rebirth of this planet.”

  Aimee glanced at the beach fringed with flora that could pass for palm trees. Green balmy leaves sloped over a course plum-colored trunk.

  “What were some of the challenges?” she asked.

  Chara evaded her eyes. Her casual shrug lacked conviction.

  “Setbacks. I guess they’re to be expected.”

  “What type of setbacks?” Aimee pushed.

  Violet eyes shifted, quickly concealed with downcast lashes.

  “Oh, little things like–” she hesitated, “–well, we started growing new crops with seeds we had brought from the Horus. It was hard to shake the phobias of the past even though we have the serum. I know the virus can’t harm us now, but still, we wanted a fresh start.”

  They paused before a large hexastyle structure. Wide stone steps led up to a long portico with six lofty columns. The building stretched back into the side of a hill, a gradient stacked with other structures in a clash of white rock against blue sky.

  “But, we can’t seem to get the crops to take,” she explained as she hiked up her tresses and started up the stone stairs.