T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion

by Doug L. Hoffman

  “Shuttle Bravo, Fortune, come in please.”

  “Now what?” mumbled Frank, seated in the pilot's chair. Keying the talk button he replied, “Fortune, this is Shuttle Bravo on approach to Zion, I read you five by five, over.”

  “Shuttle Bravo, please be advised that we have received warnings regarding possible hostile native life on Paradise. Please keep a lookout for any suspicious activity when you are on the planet.”

  “Really? We've been messing around on the surface for two months now and haven't seen anything in the way of indigenous life. I thought the OATC types said the planet was totally dead.”

  “The captain of the Peggy Sue has informed me that the soil harbors some kind of inimical life form that manifests as a moving mass of black threads.”

  “Say again, Fortune. Did you say a mass of black threads?”

  “Roger, Shuttle Bravo. I have been assured by the merchants that the threat is capable of rapid movement and is deadly to unprotected life. If you see anything remotely fitting that description you are to take off immediately. Do you copy?”

  “Roger that, Fortune.”

  “Furthermore, I want you to stay on board while you are on the ground. I don't want both of you off the shuttle at the same time.”

  “Affirmative, Fortune. I am to stay with the shuttle at all times.” Good, thought Frank, Leon will have to manage the unloading all by himself. Another thought occurred to the pilot.

  “Interrogative, should we inform the colonists of the threat?”

  There was a pause.

  “Negative, Shuttle Bravo. There may be no actual threat, so let's not start a panic. Still, we need to err on the side of caution so keep an eye pealed.”

  “Roger, Fortune. We will call in when we are on the ground. Shuttle Bravo out.”

  “What was that all about?” asked the crewman named Leon, leaning in the doorway from the passenger compartment.

  “Just the Captain with some wild assed rumor that there is a dangerous outbreak of black threads down on the planet.”

  “What?”

  “Hey, I'm not making this stuff up. You ask me, the Old Man is going space happy, stuck up there on the ship.”

  “Jeez, I hope he stays sane enough to get us back to Earth.”

  “Trust me, the return course is already programmed into the main computer. Even if the Captain goes around the bend we can still order the computer to take us home. Now get ready for atmospheric entry in ten minutes.”

  The Hills Above New Mecca

  Shadi spent a restless night, laying out beneath the stars with her sister and their sheep. Though she was loath to admit it, Ahmed's visit the previous afternoon had unnerved her. With every stirring of the sheep, every rustle of breeze through the grass, she awoke, fearing strangers were approaching their resting place. As a result, she was sore and unrested after the long dark night.

  Dorri had no such problem—after a tiring day walking with the herd in the sun and wind she slept soundly. Her sister admired the way she could ignore problems that loomed in the future and simply enjoy the moment. Now, with the first glimmer of sunrise gilding the horizon, the girls arose as the faint cry of the muezzin came to them across the grassland.

  After landing on Paradise, there had been a lot of discussion as to which direction the faithful should face to pray. Eventually the Imam decreed that they would place their copy of the Holy Koran in the east wall of the new mosque and the congregation would face east while praying. Those outside of the mosque were to face the mosque itself at the appointed times for prayer.

  The girls oriented their sleeping pads toward the settlement and performed their morning salat. Though their upbringing had not been particularly religious, prayer was a familiar and comforting ritual that reminded both girls of home. Other than each other, it was one of the last links to their life on Earth, a life that seemed more and more like a dream as the days passed.

  Prayer complete, looking down slope toward the settlement offered Shadi a view that would remain in her memory forever. The rising sun painted the buildings of New Mecca rose red, while they cast long shadows to the west. Stray breezes caused ripples in the green fields that tumbled gently down the slope to the village and the river beyond.

  “I don't see Ahmed on his horse this morning, coming to check up on us again,” said Dorri with a crooked smile.

  “Hopefully he is back in town, nursing saddle sores,” sniffed Shadi, causing Dorri to giggle. Oh sister! Stay a young girl the next few days, before we both have to become women and take up a wife's burdens. How can this be the will of Allah?

  “Why the serious look, sister?” asked Dorri.

  “Just considering how far we must drive the sheep to get them back to the sheepfold, little star.”

  “We don't have to start back today, do we?” There was an edge of panic in Dorri's voice.

  “No, no. We can wait until tomorrow to head back down the slope. Today we can move along the edge of the grass, just below the rocky hills.”

  “Good, I want this trip to last as long as possible, forever even. I don't ever want to go back.”

  “Look out over the grasslands, Dorri, and hold this picture in your heart. In the future, when things seem darkest, think back to the two of us standing on this hillside watching the sun rise.”

  Dorri said nothing, but a single tear ran down her cheek. She took her sister's hand and the two of them stood silently until the bleating of the flock broke the trance.

  * * * * *

  Kilometers to the south and east of New Mecca, near where Ahmed and the roan mare met their demise, there was a stirring along the river bank. Hardly noticeable at first, a few sparse strands of grass that had encroached on the river's meandering path, withered and died.

  Having lain dormant for centuries, the black spores, all that was left of the contagion that had killed this world, were awakened by the presence of life itself. It was the runoff from the grassland, carried down stream by the nearly daily rains, which summoned the blackness from underground.

  Mindless. Voracious. It existed only to destroy all living things. Trace molecules in the water called it back, to feed once more. Only after the planet was barren would it again go dormant, again fall into deathless sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Captain's Sea Cabin, Peggy Sue

  The ship's officers and senior NCOs were crowded into the Captain's sea cabin just off the bridge. The purpose of the gathering was to lay out a plan of action for when the Peggy Sue made orbit around Paradise. Whatever the Captain decided, the Gunny and Chief Zackly would pass the word to the Marines and crew once the meeting broke up. Looking up from the surface display in his desk, Billy Ray made eye contact with the others, bringing an anxious quiet to the room.

  “Captain Chakrabarti still isn't buyin' our warning about the black goo and refuses to order an evacuation of the surface.”

  “That seems most unwise, Captain,” said Mizuki.

  “Agreed, Dr. Ogawa. According to Chakrabarti, one of Fortune's shuttles is on its way to Zion and another is on the ground at New Jerusalem. Somewhat ominously, the New Jerusalem boat has been out of radio contact for almost ten hours.”

  “Do you think that they have already been attacked?” asked Bobby.

  “I don't know, pardner. We'll know once a surveillance satellite passes overhead after local dawn. Since Chakrabarti refuses to send another shuttle to the surface, I'm going to have First Officer Melaku and some of the Marines take Shuttle One down to the third settlement, New Mecca.”

  “Do you want the whole squad, Captain?” asked the Gunny.

  “No, I want Umky to stay here to man the central fire control station. But take the rest of the squad, in full armor.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  “Captain, Beth shouldn't pilot the shuttle,” said Bobby.

  Beth turned her head to glare at Bobby, thinking he was insulting her piloting skills. Billy Ray raised his eyebrows questioningly.

>   “The First Officer is going to be busy when the shuttle gets to the surface, handling the refugees or whatever. Given how fast this black stuff seems to move there needs to be a pilot at the controls the entire time the shuttle is on the ground, ready to lift off at the first sign of a threat.”

  Beth relaxed and Billy Ray nodded slowly in agreement.

  “The Sailing Master makes a good case, Captain,” Beth conceded.

  “I take it you have an opinion as to who that pilot should be, Bobby?”

  “Yes, Sir. I'm thinking I should be at the controls, since I have more left seat time in that type of shuttle than anyone else on board. Mr. Lewis is perfectly competent to handle the Peggy Sue under these conditions. After all the only possible hostile craft in the system is that bloated colony transport.”

  It was Beth's turn to nod in agreement, while Mizuki looked at Bobby without expression. Whatever her opinion of her significant other's volunteering for the shuttle mission, it remained unspoken.

  “Chief, we will go to General Quarters when we enter orbit. I don't anticipate any actual combat but I want the ship rigged for action.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. The crew will be at their stations, bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

  “Dr. Ogawa, I would like you, and whichever members of your science team you deem useful, to be in the CIC. You will monitor all activity on the planet's surface. I want to know if that black crud erupts anywhere down there.”

  “Hai, Captain.”

  “Beth, Bobby, I want you ready to launch when we enter orbit. I'm still hoping I can get Captain Chakrabarti on board for this evacuation. I'd rather we use his shuttles than ours.”

  “Aye, Aye, Captain,” the two senior officers answered in unison.

  “Any questions?”

  Billy Ray glanced about the room at his people. Even if they were supposed to be merchants, the looks of grim professionalism on their faces befit a crew of combat hardened veterans, which is exactly what they were.

  “Very well. Dismissed.”

  Shuttle B, Zion

  The red sun was well past its zenith as Shuttle B made a banking turn to circle the settlement. The grass was green and lush, and some industrious souls were taking cattle and sheep out to pasture. An idyllic scene that would have made a great recruiting poster for the Colonization Board.

  “Looks pretty enticing down there, eh Frank,” said Leon.

  “Yeah, if you like tilling dirt and herding animals,” the pilot replied. “Next trip let's bring a fusion reactor, and the stuff to build a hotel casino. Then the place might be tolerable.”

  “Only if the passenger manifest includes a bunch of single women,” Leon replied, grinning. The radio crackled.

  “Aircraft above Zion, come in.”

  “They haven't quite gotten the hang of radio procedure, have they?” Frank reached for the radio frequency setting. “Zion, this is Shuttle Bravo. We are about to land west of the settlement in the usual place.”

  “Uh, good Shuttle Bravo. Brother Abraham and a work party will meet you on arrival.”

  “Roger, Zion. Shuttle Bravo, out.”

  Turning to his crew of one, Frank said, “I'm supposed to stay at the controls while we are on the surface so you are going to have to keep an eye on the offloading by yourself.”

  “Yeah, I figured that was coming. It'll take these jokers the rest of the day to unload all this stuff by hand. I'll let you know if I spot any rampaging black thread.”

  “Hey, this is the last trip, focus on that. We'll be on the ground in thirty minutes.”

  The landing was uneventful, as always. Brother Abraham came out himself to supervise the unloading—perhaps he wanted to make sure none of the faithful had a moment of weakness and tried to return to the ship. Leon soon had the group of young men organized and hauling the contents of the cargo hold to the settlement a half kilometer away.

  Bridge, ESS Fortune

  Captain Chakrabarti was viewing the video of the fall of Paradise's native civilization for the third time. If it was a fake it was a very well done fake, with some highly imaginative touches. The natives appeared to be some form of flattened, snail like creatures, sans shells, that slid across the mosaic floors and brick lined streets of their cities. If someone on board the Peggy Sue had created this on a computer they were in the wrong business—they should be turning out SciFi horror films back on Farside.

  There was still no word from the missing shuttle crew. No word at all from New Jerusalem for that matter. Shuttle B had arrived at Zion without incident and the crew reported nothing out of the ordinary. Another hour or so and the offloading would be complete and they would be on their way back to the ship. The ship's computer interrupted Sid's thoughts.

  “Captain, Shuttle C has docked in its berth on the hull and is secured.”

  “Fine, leave the access hatches closed for now. I will send some of the crew to inspect the interior in a bit.”

  “As you wish, Captain.”

  At least the computer is properly respectful. Sid's mood was rapidly deteriorating faced with growing uncertainty regarding the settlers' safety. He placed a call to the crew of Shuttle A, who were on board doing something.

  “Mr. Chu, Mr. Bell, this is the Captain.”

  “Yes, Captain, this is Chu.”

  “I want you two to go to the number three shuttle bay and check out the interior of Shuttle C. See if there is any damage, or signs of why the crew abandoned the boat.”

  “Sure, we'll get right on that.” The call went dead.

  When I get back, the efficiency reports I will write on all of these insubordinate louts will get them dismissed from the service! The thought of revenge soothed Sid's unsettled mind, providing something pleasant to look forward to. Oh why didn't I take that job hauling researchers back and forth to Neptune?

  Zion, Paradise

  The settlements were rudimentary places to live. None had running water or a municipal sewage system. Zion was no exception. For water, the residents of Zion dug a well in the middle of their town. The water-saturated depth of the local aquifer ranged from a few meters to more than three hundred. Fortunately for the settlers the water table was on the shallow end of that range under Zion.

  The other side of the utility equation was fulfilled by a set of municipal privies, located at the edge of town. They were on the down slope side of the settlement, in hopes that the ground water flow followed the modest elevation gradient. There were two facilities for the men and two for the women, each a five-holer that would have done any 18th century frontier settlement proud.

  Perched upon a wooden throne, Brother Isaiah was making his daily deposit to the growing collection of human waste at the bottom of the latrine. Isaiah was not the name he was born with; Brother Abraham insisted they all take “Christian” names from the Bible. Isaiah considered the name change to be a small price to pay for having survived the destruction of Earthly civilization and the opportunity to colonize a new world.

  Alone in the tranquil silence, Isaiah thought about Rebecca, the girl he hoped to marry one day. She was a little on the plump side, and thus not favored by Brother Abraham, who liked his women slender like young boys. Brother Isaiah was not precisely svelte himself, his buttocks making a fleshy seal atop the wooden seat. Absently, he noticed that the fragrance of the privy was not too bad this evening.

  That was because the accumulated night soil from two months of human habitation had been consumed, turned into more fundamental chemical components, by that which lurked in the depths of Paradise’s sandy soil. The cache of organic material absorbed, black threads sought more fodder to feed their voracious appetite. Up the pressed particle board sides of the dung pit they swarmed.

  Reaching the top, the contagion was faced with a fleshy plug, capping the one open toilet. The black swarm took the path of least resistance and entered the single proffered orifice. Brother Isaiah never new what hit him.

  Isaiah reflexively tried to stand but he was
dead before he reached his feet. Black sinews emerged from his mouth and nose as death ate him from the inside out. A black trunk slammed his body through the privy door, wearing his eviscerated corpse like a meat puppet. As tatters of his skin dropped off and fell into the surging black torrent, the other latrines erupted with their own fountains of death.

  As the threads swept into the settlement proper, the screams began.

  * * * * *

  At the bottom of the Shuttle's cargo ramp Leon was conversing with Brother Abraham as two young men struggled with the last container of supplies. Leon was anxious to depart, having had enough of both Paradise and Brother Abraham, but the cult leader had a proposition.

  “So, brother, I was wondering if you might be returning to Zion on a future voyage?” Brother Abraham had a habit of calling everyone brother or sister.

  “Maybe, I can't say for sure,” Leon answered brusquely.

  “As you may know, when we made arrangements for this enterprise we agreed to forgo some supplies that the other colonists considered forbidden in the eyes of their gods.”

  “Yeah, and your point is?”

  “Both the Jews and Muslims demanded that we bring no food animals their heathen religions declared 'unclean'. Only mammals that chew the cud and part the hoof.”

  “What?” Leon was now thoroughly confused.

  “One of the things we had to leave behind was swine. No pigs means no pork, no ham, and no bacon! I miss them already, and our time in our new home has barely begun.” The look on Brother Abraham's face was one of terrible sadness.

  “Listen, we don't have any pigs stashed on board the ship or I'd bring you some. What do you expect us to do?”

  “I was thinking that, if you were to return to this world on a future voyage, and could convince the powers that be to send along a small herd of swine, I would be in your debt.”

  This piqued Leon's interest. “And just how would you repay that debt?”

  “I think we could come to some arrangement, something to ease the hardships of a man far from home with no female companionship?” Brother Abraham's eyebrows rose in an expression of understanding between men of the world.