Four Worlds

by Maureen A. Miller

  The back of the bald head twitched. “No planet is void of enemies.”

  “Your voice,” she called to the reedy figure. “How is it identical to JOH’s?”

  He stopped and turned around, his gaunt face blushed under the sun. Fringed eyebrows narrowed into an arrow.

  “I was called upon to design–” he uttered a jumbled dialect, but the enunciation of J-O-H came through. “I contributed speech bites that were used to create JOH’s dialogue. So yes, if that relic is still around and talking, he is doing so with my voice.”

  Aimee was staggered.

  “Why did you stay here?” she pressed. “Why didn’t you escape on the Horus? Why didn’t you see your creation come to life?”

  Sandaled feet shuffled backwards. “This is my home,” he declared. “I will not be forced to flee it–not for anything.”

  “But, the virus. The food supply was destroyed...”

  The man’s eyes dropped to her waist and his expression looked pained. “You learn to be resourceful when something is important to you.”

  A true, albeit, cryptic statement.

  “But–”

  “Be careful,” the man warned as he climbed further up the path. “There is a malevolent force at work here. It walks amongst you.”

  A fist clamped around her heart. It was hard to ignore the gravity of his warning. “Malevolent force? Who? What?”

  The man’s bony shoulder quirked and he executed a hasty pivot, disappearing into a tunnel of plum-colored trees.

  Dumfounded, Aimee was paralyzed. The paralysis didn’t last long. Curiosity launched her into motion as she hiked into the dark warren after him.

  “Wait, what is your name?” she called.

  In the distance, she could hear the scrape of his sandal against rock, and the rustle of tree limbs disturbed by his progress. As her steps hastened she caught a flash of white robe between the towering flora. Expecting to catch up with him, instead she was met with an abrupt end to the trail. The solid rock face of the volcanic mountain concluded her chase. She stared at it quizzically, searching for a fissure, or a cave entrance. Stepping up to it she placed her palm on the coarse surface.

  A sound high above caught her attention. Whispers? There was an abrasive shift and then a gut-wrenching clamor as a hulking projectile plunged down the hillside. In the split second it took to recognize the boulder nosediving towards her, Aimee tried to launch her body out of the way. Instead, a hand reached out and tugged her tight to the rock wall, trapping her in the projectile’s path.

  One second from impact she tucked her head, latching her palm to her stomach while conjuring up Zak’s face. No. Not this way.

  The grip around her arm tugged again and she collapsed through the rock barrier.

  Aimee stumbled against the tow, colliding with a wiry frame. Firm hands settled on her shoulders and then promptly released her.

  A pervasive darkness disoriented her all the more. All she could perceive was JOH’s voice muttering strange curses. JOH never cursed.

  “–should have never done that–” Her translator deciphered his mumbling.

  “–should have just let it happen. Maybe these fools would take notice. Maybe if someone died–maybe if it wasn’t just damage to a building–maybe they would listen to me–”

  Stumbling in pursuit of the receding voice, Aimee splayed her hand against the wall for support. She squinted into the light ahead, seeing the man’s shadow in a strobe effect. Latching onto that flashing image, she lurched forward a few more steps and reeled as she felt the channel give way to a wide chamber, her own breath seeming to echo from a ceiling so dark and remote she could not even perceive it.

  They were inside the mountain, in a cave that soared at least three stories high. Some of the recesses were illuminated with a form of track lighting. Grooves in the rock walls served as shelves, lined with storage of all kinds. Food. Weapons. Vats of water were stacked against the walls. But, the highlight to this subterranean den was the craft suspended from glistening fibers tucked into the ceiling. The craft was loosely fabricated along the lines of the Terra Angel’s design. This one, however, had a crude construct. Straight lines instead of fluid. A cold gray sheen, instead of the polished black ice of the Warriors’ jet.

  Aimee’s gaze extended, observing stockpiles of tools, equipment presumably used to work on the ship. More food. More water. A living quarters of sorts.

  She recognized the signs.

  This was a doomsday prepper.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As senior Warrior–well, as the only veteran Warrior aboard, Gordy was tasked with confirming the safety of the environment before allowing the passengers to alight.

  They had already scoped the immediate area with the ship’s external sensors, but no warm-blooded creatures were detected.

  “I can go with you, Gordeelum,” the apprentice offered with guarded zeal.

  How long ago had he possessed that same youthful enthusiasm?

  It was not juvenile anticipation that he felt as the landing platform descended, though. It was trepidation. Angst. His finger stroked the sleek curve of the Star Laser as he climbed down to the ground.

  A quick visual revealed craggy grass speckled with moist soil. The warm atmosphere hugged his suit as the sun burned into the reflective material. It took a few steadying breaths to adapt to the humidity.

  Perspiration flared on his forehead as he took those first tentative steps off the platform. He paused, listening to the environment. There was a soft hiss of wind mingling with the subtle current emanating from the Tok. Underscoring that was the thump of blood inside his ears.

  Gordy stepped forward, eyeing the tree line ahead, realizing how close they had come to missing the clearing altogether. Behind the furry stockade, hills of bedrock progressively grew until mountain peaks jabbed at a blue sky. He tucked his chin towards his shoulder, reporting, “The atmosphere is a little thick, but the environment appears hospitable. As the sensors confirmed, there is nothing other than plant life visible so far. I am going to expand my zone. Await my report.”

  The elder advised not to travel too far from the ship, but Gordy had family on that module. He would not release them to this uncharted land until he was certain they would be safe. No one had stepped foot on the mainland of Anthum since the pandemic. Only the island of Aulo was inhabited. Only the island of Aulo was deemed safe by the previous crew of the Horus. To the best of his knowledge, though, none had ventured across the ocean to attest the condition of the region.

  If they were stranded here on the mainland, there was enough food on the Tok to sustain everyone while the plant life was analyzed. And, of course, there was the serum to thwart the old virus.

  He marched forward, listening to the suction of his boots against the mire. It was warmer than he anticipated. His suit was uncomfortable. Now he understood why the images on the Horus portrayed Anthumians in flowing white dresses and white suits of a thin material.

  Reaching the border of the forest he reported, “I’m going into the trees. I’ll be off coms for a few minutes.”

  “I don’t recommend that,” the elder cautioned.

  “Do not let anyone off the ship until I report back.”

  Turning his neck away from the next transmission, he avoided vocal deterrence. Right now, he needed to listen to his environment. On Earth, he had learned that the trees spoke. They whispered tales of changing weather patterns. They divulged the whereabouts of the tiniest of creatures.

  These furry stalks were no different. They communicated now–a hushed chorus guiding him towards a shadowed warren under the canopy of vegetation. Glancing back over his shoulder he glimpsed a portion of the landing platform shining in the sunlight. The safety of his family, both immediate and extended rested on his assessment. He had to be thorough.

  Gordy stepped into nature’s dark tunnel. Ahead, a rumbling sound beckoned. With his Star Laser raised he crept further into the forest, glancing up at the tall trees
ripe with fruit–fruit that had once poisoned the Anthumians.

  The ashen face of a rock wall flanked his left. He paralleled it, committing the path to memory for his return trip. The Horus module was self-sustaining, but only for so long. Ultimately, his goal was the to reach the vast sea that stretched between the continent and Aulo, and devise a manner to cross it. That goal could only be achieved after he returned to the Tok with assurances that the environment was secure.

  It was his misfortune to pilot the module that possessed the least amount of supplies. It carried literature and historic components–rare artwork from ancient Anthum. Not the staples for a means to cross an ocean, or heal the sick.

  Ahead, the rumbling burgeoned into a roar. Crossing over a conflux of grass and pebbles, his tread was absorbed by the clamor of…water. He recognized the cascading sound, similar to the subtle thunder of the curtain of water that filled the Atrium on the Horus.

  Ahead, mist billowed into the trees. Its soothing sheen dusted his face. This was an excellent find. Sustenance for the Tok crew. As he approached, the rumble filled the hollow. The liquid torrent reminded him of another waterfall. The one on Zak’s planet…Ziratak. That waterfall had saved Zak’s people.

  No…Aimee and Zak had done it together.

  Momentarily lost in the reverie, Gordy heard a sound from the web of tree limbs above. Just as he raised his Star Laser, a sharp sting cracked his wrist, knocking the weapon from his hand. Several feet away, a rock rolled to a standstill. Gordy dropped down to retrieve his weapon when he was assaulted with another precise hit. Another sharp chunk of ore, this one nicking his arm, causing a trickle of blood to escape the tear in his suit.

  With hands splayed in submission he rose and eyed the trees for a sign of his attacker. The furry fronds concealed all.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he called out. “Our ship had to make an emergency landing. We’re from the Horus.”

  Was this the apprentice? Had he managed to sneak off the Tok without anyone seeing?

  The air hissed one second before a snake-like projectile latched around his legs with immobilizing precision. As he stooped over to tear at the restraining vine another hiss filled the air. A tentacle from the sky wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. His shoulders bulged in protest against the restraint. Fighting to break free, Gordy caught a motion in the towering tree to his right. A figure shimmied down it and dropped into a hunched stance on the ground.

  What type of vine bound him so irrevocably?

  Busy battling the manacles, Gordy locked his eyes on the figure crouched in the shadows. Slowly the person rose. Other than the fact that the frame was slim and of medium height, it remained featureless, trapped in that ambiguous line between sun and shadow. When it finally approached, Gordy jerked in surprise. The figure was clearly feminine. Adorned in a swathe of fur that fell just above her knees, she stalked forward on long, tanned legs. He lifted his gaze to the hand that gripped a rock and then continued his upward perusal to tousled dark hair framing a heart-shaped face. Eyes that mirrored the shadowed forest analyzed him and then latched onto the laser on the ground.

  “No,” he warned as she grabbed the weapon.

  Under an untrained hand the blaster posed danger to anyone possessing it.

  She picked the Star Laser up and calmly aimed it at him, her head cocked to the side, spilling rich brown hair across a bare shoulder.

  “Don’t move,” she ordered in a soft voice.

  He detected a subtle accent–something husky delivered in a quick cadence.

  “That will hurt you,” he cautioned as her slim fingers wrapped under the boomerang-shaped weapon.

  Without warning she stroked the bottom of the laser and a beam lashed at his legs, striking the vine that trapped his calves together. As soon as the bindings dropped, Gordy charged towards her, his arms still pinned at his sides.

  “Stop!” she ordered, pointing the laser at his midsection.

  He hesitated.

  “I found one of these over a ren ago,” she explained in a remarkably calm tone. “I have practiced with it every day. I can gut you before you take your next step.”

  Constrained as he was, he could still charge her now–knock her to the ground and separate her from the laser.

  She read his thoughts and took a step towards him. Clarity illuminated eyes with the diverse hue of the trees–a blend of browns and greens that focused exclusively on him. He estimated that he and she were close in age, but aside from that, there were no similarities. She was dark–tanned skin, sable hair, earthy eyes–raw. She intrigued him, but as she stated so succinctly, she could gut him in a heartbeat.

  Did he really want to challenge her skills at this close range?

  “Who are you?” he asked instead.

  “No time to talk,” she snapped. “We have a long journey.” She prodded the laser at him, motioning him forward. “Now move.”

  “Whoa.” Gordy dug in. “My crew is on the other side of these woods. I’m not leaving them. And it’s just a matter of time before they come looking for me, and they won’t take kindly to what you’ve done to me.”

  The young woman rolled her eyes, and then lowered her brows. “Your kind don’t scare me. Let them come. All the bigger bounty for me.”

  “Bounty?”

  Where was he? This was Anthum, right? The mainland, where there had been no survivors?

  Were they wrong? Had a select few survived the endemic?

  “What do you mean, my kind?” he asked.

  Keep her talking. Distract her. Inch closer.

  “The ones who left us here to die. The chosen ones who boarded that ship. Yes, I’ve heard of the Horus.”

  Judging by her expression, and the way she spat out the name, she was far from impressed.

  Gordy gauged the distance between them. Six or seven feet. He calculated his chances.

  “There was no one left here to die. A life scan was executed. All survivors were accounted for and transported to Aulo where they boarded the Horus.”

  “How do you know?” she hissed, circling him. “You can’t be much older than me. My parents were here at the time. Apparently, your life scan didn’t detect them. Obviously, your tools were flawed.”

  Could it be true?

  Gordy concealed any trace of doubt with an imposing frown.

  “That’s absurd. No one was left behind.”

  The young woman nudged the laser. “Enough talk. Start walking down this trail.” She pointed along the sodden path. “I will be right behind you. Don’t even think about making any sudden moves. I’ll–”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ll gut me. I got it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard to walk like this. If you’re so good with the Star Laser, then you can get rid of these bindings so I can make better time to wherever our destination is.”

  Sloe-shaped eyes sliced towards the rock face. “As soon as we begin climbing I will do that. When that time comes, you won’t be so concerned about escaping,” she paused, “you’ll be more concerned about falling.”

  It was clear she knew how to use the Star Laser, or use it well enough that she could severely injure him. He had to acquiesce for the moment. Horus protocol mandated that the senior Warrior be given adequate time to evaluate the environment. If there was no report from the Warrior by sunrise, a search party would be sent out with instructions not to stray too far from the ship. If their peripheral inspection yielded no sign of the Warrior, he would at that point be considered missing and the environment deemed unsafe.

  “Move,” the woman commanded.

  Gordy started forward, marking his time–marking his environment–committing tree formations and boulders to memory.

  “Is it far?” he asked, hoping to glean more information.

  “Yes,” she replied steadily. “I’m sure your kind will struggle though. You don’t spend much time on your legs, I hear. You sit in your little fighter ships and kill things.”

  �
��What? Hey–” He halted and turned stiffly in his bindings. “First, my kind happens to be yours as well. We’re both Anthumians…unless your parents settled here from another planet. That would make the most sense. Perhaps they were immune to the virus.”

  She planted her legs in a combative stance, the Star Laser inching higher.

  “No,” she spat. “My grandparents are Anthumian. Their parents were Anthumian. You…your kind, you are cowards. Affluent cowards.”

  Gordy reeled, trying to make sense of this verbal assault.

  “Look, it was before my time,” he argued. “It was before your time. I was born aboard the Horus. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to set foot on Anthum. But, I was taught that all surviving Anthumians fled on the Horus to preserve the population…to keep it from extinction. Records indicated that life scans were conducted before takeoff, and all came back negative.” He tried to assimilate those history lessons, searching for any gaps in the curriculum.

  “You were taught,” she spat.

  “As were you,” he countered.

  They stood in a silent faceoff. Gordy saw her chest pump on short breaths. She was not as composed as she tried to convey.

  “My parents fled this planet to ensure the safety of their unborn child–my sister. I was not taught. I lived it.”

  He felt ridiculous arguing with his arms pinned to his sides, but she never eased up on her aim.

  “You all fled with the means to feed yourselves while we were left here to starve. We learned to be resourceful, though. We learned where to find safe food. Had you all not been such cowards–”

  “We did not know you were here! Our scientists concluded that we would not be able to sustain ourselves if we remained. Everything was contaminated by the disease,” he argued. “And when a cure was finally discovered, the Horus returned, bringing back those who had left their homes.”

  “And you,” she challenged. “You didn’t long for your planet? Your parents? Did they come back on the Horus last ren?”

  Gordy’s lips flattened. “No.”