Survey Mission
By Jessica Payseur
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2018 Jessica Payseur
ISBN 9781634865784
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
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All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Survey Mission
By Jessica Payseur
“And you couldn’t’ve told me this before we hauled our asses four miles from the shuttle?”
Troy Iverson looked away as Irene turned her ire on Teresa, politely contemplating a vine growing up a yellow-brown tree. Overhead the sky churned, the charged scent of metal slipping past the landing party with the breeze.
“We knew ahead of time readings wouldn’t be accurate,” said Teresa, glaring. She was the best meteorologist aboard the Heavenhawk IV and had spent a good three decades with OriginCo, combing planets for resources. “I did the best with what we have.”
The storm was definitely building, Troy could feel it. Irene and Teresa stared each other down for a few more moments, the remainder of the party tense. He breathed a sigh of relief when Irene backed off. Troy liked the short, pale woman, but this was her first time leading a preliminary expedition and she’d been visibly stiff throughout. Teresa Peters was more a mentor to Troy than a friend, a Mexican-American woman in her fifties and the only other Terran on the entire ship. She set a neutral expression on her light brown face and followed.
“Right, then, change of plans,” said Irene, smacking her scanner.
Troy ran his scanner over the vine to see what it would pick up, but everything was jamming in the atmosphere. Too many metallic particles, too much magnetic interference. He wondered what it was doing to his body.
“Back to the shuttle?” asked Heather. “We don’t want to be out in this storm when it hits.”
Troy believed her. She had only boarded at the last stop, a young black woman with deep brown skin and more credentials than Troy had signed on with. When the metallurgist tells you to hide from an alien cloud, you hide.
“There’s a series of natural caves about three-quarters of a mile away,” said Irene. “Peters, how long do we have?”
“The storm will hit in less than half an hour,” said Teresa.
“We should still be able to test soil and metal deposits there,” said Irene. “Correct?”
Patti nodded her flushed white face. She was a decent edaphologist but incredibly boring to talk to, and Troy avoided her as much as possible. Next to her stood Desmond Price, staring at the scanner in his hand. He was a Korean-British Saturner, tawny face flushing whenever he was onto something agronomy-related, but for now he appeared disinterested. “Yes,” he said.
Irene turned to Troy next, wanting to know what he could do.
He shrugged. “Depends on what sort of plant life’s in there.”
“Caves, it is,” said the last member of their party.
Troy cringed. Kipp Vaughn, the entomologist and man Troy least wanted to be around. Kipp bugged him. He held eye contact for too long, like he knew the way his eyes seemed to be both blue and green was mesmerizing. Where everyone else was polished and professional, Kipp seemed to be daring OriginCo to fire him, the way he kept his dirty blond hair long, his facial hair always at that should-have-shaved-three-days-ago length. Troy knew he cared, though; he’d seen Kipp at the gym on occasion, sweat beading over pale white skin stretched taut over muscle.
“Vaughn,” said Irene.
Kipp shrugged, wriggled his fingers. “Should be some bugaboos in a cave,” he said. Troy looked away when Kipp turned a grin toward him. “Or this really is a lousy planet.”
“Have you seen anything dangerous yet?” she asked.
“What, like space scorpions? Absolutely not,” said Kipp. He shot Troy a nasty grin and moved to the front of the party as Irene led them toward the caves. Troy tried not to gag on the sharp air and focused on the sensation of all the hairs on his exposed skin standing on end from whatever strange charge was building in the storm.
Desmond fell back to him.
“He’s interested in you,” he said, scanning a clump of grass-studded ground as they passed it.
Troy’s stomach dropped out. “Right,” he said, trying to sound genuinely sarcastic.
Desmond smacked the side of his scanner. “I know it when I see it,” he said. “Matt was like that to both me and Suzi.”
Troy held back a groan. Ever since Desmond’s husband and wife had transferred to the Heavenhawk II, he mentioned them whenever possible. It was almost more annoying than Kipp.
“Thanks, but he’s just being a bastard for the hell of it,” said Troy.
Desmond shrugged, but Troy was careful not to stare too long at Kipp’s ass in case he was watching.
* * * *
Troy did not like the caves, and it wasn’t just because there was nothing for him to examine, not even a little moss. There were a few patches of mushrooms, but he was a botanist, not a mycologist. Something wasn’t right, and he pulled out his scanner when he couldn’t place it.
Heather and Teresa conversed about whether the caves were adequate protection from the storm, the clip to their voices indicating they were unsure. Troy wished someone had had the sense to suggest they carry a survival shield, but none of them had wanted to haul an extra fifty pounds of gear. He smacked his scanner and held it up to the wall, hoping for something that was not visible to his eyes.
“What. A. Specimen,” said Kipp from behind him.
Troy tried to move out of the way but only succeeded in stepping in front of the entomologist. Kipp bumped into his side before he could stop it.
“Watch where you’re going,” said Troy.
Kipp shot him a distracted grin. “Stop throwing your ass around and let me through.”
He shoved his way past and Troy felt tingles over the arm Kipp had pushed. The closeness had spiked his heart rate, and he stared as Kipp pushed his hair back and extended a hand to the cave wall.
“Don’t touch anything,” said Irene, but Kipp already had a slimy wormlike creature between thumb and forefinger. Troy thought it strange to see how gentle Kipp could be; the thing had to be something easily ruptured, and it squirmed fiercely. Kipp kept twisting his hand and arm to accommodate the creature’s struggles. It was a good seven inches long.
Troy swallowed. Kipp’s eyes glowed.
“Do you know what this is?” asked Kipp, turning to present it to Irene. “Cave leech. Not my specialty, but I read about these. Proof that these things can evolve anywhere.” He pulled it close to his face, gaze running over it deeply, intensely. Troy’s stomach felt weird.
&
nbsp; “Vaughn, put that down and disinfect yourself.” Irene’s voice sounded too level.
“It’s perfectly safe,” said Kipp, words low enough to nearly get eaten by the sound of the howling wind outside. Desmond and Teresa were at the cave entrance now, discussing how to keep the storm out. “Cave leeches digest rock with a combination of corrosive intestinal fluid and grinding motion.”
“That doesn’t actually sound safe,” said Troy before he could stop himself.
Kipp tore his gaze from his specimen and locked his eyes on Troy’s. The corner of his mouth tilted up.
“Don’t you trust me to handle seven inches of worm without getting any fluids on myself?” he asked.
Troy scowled. He didn’t want to flirt. Not on the job. Not when he had no idea whether Kipp was serious or teasing.
“Whoops.”
Kipp stepped back as though from something dribbling to the floor. Irene popped out a sample case and held it out to him.
“Collect it and disinfect yourself, Vaughn. The second part is not a suggestion.”
“These things can be real pests for a mining operation,” said Kipp as he tried to pop open the sample case with one hand.
Troy waited for Irene to help him, but she was walking off to speak with Desmond and Teresa. The whine of the storm was loud now, and Troy could see they had built some sort of temporary shield with their scanners to keep out the gusts.
He moved over to help Kipp, irritated he had to be the one to do it.
“If even a handful get into a storage crate, they can eat half a shipment before anyone notices.”
Troy took the case from Kipp and popped it open. He glanced up as he extended it and saw Kipp grinning at him. Their eyes locked and Troy’s skin crawled. It was a pleasant, frustrated sensation. Troy glared to the side, setting his jaw. He was not about to make the mistake of moving on someone who would get him written up. Not again. And he hated Kipp for tempting him.
“What’s the way to deal with pests?” he asked, giving Kipp a hard look.
Either Kipp missed the suggestion to back off or he didn’t care. He shrugged. “Give them what they want.”
“No.”
Kipp grinned and snapped the sample case closed with the hand that hadn’t touched the cave leech.
“Didn’t think you’d have a problem with that. I read there was an experimental ‘granite coat’ in the works to trick them into going after cheap stone or even wood. Otherwise, scans and vigilance.”
“Great.” Troy picked up the case and examined the cave leech as it tried to latch onto the side and bore its way out.
“All right, then, sterilize me.”
“What?”
Troy looked over to see Kipp with his arm outstretched. He stared at it, Kipp’s sleeve rolled up to reveal a well-muscled forearm. He imagined a body like Kipp’s could take most any position with ease.
“This is my dominant hand. It’s easier if you spray it, and I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry up. Pretty sure I can hear this planet’s equivalent of crickets and we wouldn’t want them to get away, would we?”
“Don’t talk to me like a kid,” said Troy, refusing to use his own spray sterilizer. He yanked off the bottle strapped to Kipp’s belt and aimed it at Kipp’s arm.
“Then don’t act like you need coaxing,” said Kipp, almost harshly. When Troy glanced at him, though, he grinned. Troy thrust the bottle back at him and Kipp took it, fingers brushing against Troy’s wrist and making his heart speed again. He should have thrown the sterilizer at Kipp’s smug, handsome face.
“I’m not surprised you love bugs,” said Troy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Kipp, but he was already on his way to another nook in the cave. Troy glared at his retreating ass and wished he had not been chosen for this particular mission. This planet was hostile enough without having to deal with Kipp pushing so many of the right buttons.
He was moving in the opposite direction to explore for plants when he heard a shout, followed by several more shouts and a clatter. He turned to see Irene and Teresa running toward the section of cave where Heather and Patti were. Flying creatures about the size of tennis balls dove at them, and they did not appear friendly.
The storm picked up then. Troy moved to help but Irene waved him away.
“Iverson, help Price,” she ordered, then shouted toward Kipp. “Vaughn! The hell are these?”
Troy heard noises that could only be described as angry coming from the creatures. They were fast, and patterned like the rock around them. Troy put the sounds somewhere in the range of shriek-to-buzz, the collective noise of the creatures almost sounding like a wasp nest, if wasps screamed.
Desmond remained close to the entrance of the cave, wincing at the makeshift shield. They all were trained in how to turn their special-issue scanners into a number of emergency devices, from shielding to defibrillator, but none of them were trained in real tech, which was why they’d been waiting for instructions from the Heavenhawk IV on how to repair the shuttle for return. They had left the little craft running a self-diagnostic to transmit to the ship in orbit, and now they were in a cave populated with hostile creatures while a storm cut off their escape.
Figured. Troy should have realized nothing good would happen on a scouting mission with Kipp.
“Is it working?” asked Troy, kneeling by Desmond. He shot a worried glance at the storm whistling and pounding against the ground outside, battering the shield.
“For now. If you add your scanner, it’ll be stronger.”
He extended his hand and Troy passed his scanner over. There had been nothing for him to study in the cave, after all, and the really interesting stuff outside looked to be still within the norm for what sort of plants a person could expect to find. He was utterly useless until he got samples back to analyze.
“Eyes and ears,” shouted Irene.
Troy turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his hands to his ears. Still, he saw the light turn the inside of his eyelids pink, heard the rumble of the shock grenade. The cave shook and he breathed dust. When everything settled, he glanced over.
Both Heather and Patti were on the ground, groaning, while Irene pulled out their crash pens and injected them. Teresa and Kipp had built another shield out of two of the remaining scanners and, for now at least, it kept the strange creatures at bay. They were still on the attack, pinging against the shield, as Irene rounded on Kipp.
“You said there was nothing dangerous,” she snarled.
Kipp stood and dragged the hair out of his face with a hand. Troy stared at the motion. He wanted to do that to Kipp’s hair, tease it away from his eyes. It was an inappropriate thought, at an inappropriate time.
“I said I didn’t see anything dangerous,” he said. “And I’m not at all sure those are insects—”
“They fucking stung me,” said Patti.
Troy blinked. That was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard her say.
“Heather was stung at least four times,” said Irene.
“They could be mammals. They’re a lot like bats,” said Kipp.
Teresa moved around with sample cases, and when Troy saw her picking up the stunned creatures he glanced down at Desmond.
“You good?”
“Yeah, go help them,” said Desmond, waving a hand at him. Troy was glad he hadn’t caught him staring at Kipp.
“We didn’t bring a zoologist,” said Irene.
Kipp gaped and pointed at himself. “Entomologist. I’m not your next best thing. I don’t know a damn thing about bats.”
“But you do know about wasps,” said Irene. She pointed at Teresa and Troy, who had grabbed a few sample cases now and was scooping the last of the strange creatures inside. “And you’re going to tear these things apart in case the standard treatment doesn’t work.”
Kipp did not argue. As Irene stalked back to Desmond and Teresa moved to see to Heather and Patti, Kipp crossed to where Troy was stacking the case
s and exhaled loudly. “Do I get the hot lab assistant to go with all these beautiful specimens?” he asked.
Irene ignored him as Troy stiffened. Kipp reached in front of him and began rearranging the cases, placing those holding larger creatures on the bottom.
“I was into myrmecology, dipterology, a little dabbling in coleopterology—the ants, the flies, the beetles,” muttered Kipp as he worked. “Not vespology. Sure as hell not batology.”
“Chiropterology,” said Troy. It felt good to know something Kipp didn’t.
Kipp eyed him with a gaze that was more blue than green at the moment. “Now how does a little old botanist know that?”
“Had a cousin who was a chiropterologist,” he said. Unfortunately she’d died studying a new kind of bat on a recently colonized planet, bitten by a venomous variety. But Kipp didn’t need to know that. “And don’t call me old.”
“Why? Afraid I’m not into older men?”
“No. I’m afraid I might punch you.”
“Listen up,” said Irene from the cave mouth. “Teresa says once this storm dies down, she’ll be able to see whether we can get to the shuttle. I’ll be taking some of you back. Vaughn, Iverson.”
Troy held back a groan. Irene turned to Desmond and Teresa, crouched by the shield.
Desmond stood. “I’ll stay. I can make sure the shields work and Heather and Patti are comfortable.”
Across the cave, Patti swore again. Irene glanced at Teresa.
“I can take more readings on the move,” said Teresa. “A better picture of any upcoming storms will help, too. You don’t want to move either of them.”
“I gave Heather something to sleep,” said Irene. She rubbed at her forehead. “Let’s hope we don’t have to move them.” She paused. “Right, then it’s me, Vaughn and your samples, Iverson, Peters. We’ll contact the ship and bring back better first aid supplies.”
She nodded to herself, satisfied she had things as much under control as possible, and turned to discuss with Desmond the shield holding back the maybe-bats, maybe-wasps. When Troy glanced over at Kipp, it was to see Kipp’s eyes dart up from his ass. He forced himself to be angry instead of aroused.
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