Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  More sounds, another animal, but the same patterns. They began to recede, rhythmic thumps vibrating off the dirt. Small, light. Was it a Takesh? Issk’ath had learned about the Takesh. About the war. But the last of them had expired long before Issk’ath was built. Had they returned? Did that mean the colony would someday come back? It crept up the base of the ramp, pausing at the entrance of each tunnel, waiting for some pulse to strike its tympana. Not in the Queen’s chambers. Nor the hatchery or larder. Issk’ath passed the Grand Gallery and the armory. It paused at the nursery, waiting. It could not feel the vibrations, but the animals could have moved too far into the interior. It hovered, undecided.

  The directive was to protect the colony. The colony was not the nest. What did Issk’ath care if something burrowed into the empty corridors or stole what remained? The colony would never use it again. And the animals might be dangerous. They might attack Issk’ath if they were cornered. It was not fragile, but the colony thrummed inside it. All the memories held in its chassis. Damage would not be optimal. It didn’t need anything in the nursery. The animals could take what they wanted and never even know it was there. They would not find what Issk’ath needed, it was buried deep under the rubble of the industrial chambers. It passed swiftly up the ramp, intending to depart the nest until silence returned. But at the top, where the world tumbled into the emptiness of sky, it found a curious thing. A thing of worked metal. A thing that spoke. The same song, over and over, but subtle, underneath the other sounds. Issk’ath circled it warily. This was not animal. It was not even familiar from the stories of the Takesh. It was close to the things the colony had made. Complex and requiring refinement of rare resources. Was it a trap? A toy? Issk’ath shook the question off. What it was seemed unimportant. Who had made it was the real issue. Had Issk’ath missed something? Someone? Did one of the people remain? Or was it simply scavenged from a distant nest? Had the animal stolen it and accidentally activated it? The need to discover what had entered the nest outweighed the risk. The metal thing was costly. They would return for it eventually and Issk’ath had time. It settled down beside the metal thing to wait.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rebecca stared intently at the tunnel walls as they walked. They were too smooth to be natural. She focused her camera as tightly as she could. “Hackford, are you getting this?”

  “I’m watching,” said Hackford’s voice over the feed. “The video is patchy, I think the feed is faint where you are. Al Jahi is working on it. But I’ll look closer at your recordings when you get back. Ask Titov to take some samples for me.”

  “On it Dorothy,” said Titov from ahead as he scraped the wall with his sampler.

  “Can you tell if water made these?” asked Rebecca. “I can’t find any edges or ripples. No tool marks at all.”

  “I don’t think it’s water. It’s too regular. And there would be exposed rocks where the current dug around them. Except for the little bit of debris at the mouth of the tunnel where you fell, I haven’t seen any. Are there some underfoot?”

  Rebecca focused the camera on the ground below. “No, just this smooth stuff that’s on the walls.”

  “Is it a clay, Titov?” asked Hackford. He ran the sampler and it beeped.

  “It’s definitely a silicate of some type. It’s vitrified.”

  “What’s that mean?” asked Liu.

  “It’s been heated. It’s a ceramic now. A volcano, Hackford?” asked Titov.

  “Where are the deposits then? You may not have explored enough to find it yet, but there should at least be some in the hole. Where’d the ash go? And the gasses? Even long dormant, there should be some signs.”

  “Geyser vent?”

  “I’m not going to rule it out, but it wouldn’t be my first idea. Not level and sideways like that. It’s no good guessing, we need more information.” She paused. “I wish I could be down there with you.”

  “Don’t worry, Dorothy,” said Rebecca, “you and I will come back tomorrow.”

  “Only if you find something significant.”

  “Then we better keep moving,” said Liu, “and bring the lady some get-well-soon rocks.”

  They followed the tunnel farther in and it widened, the bore becoming larger and flaring until it ended abruptly in a massive chamber. Two enormous columns flowed upwards into the dark. Rebecca followed them with her light but the small lamp would not reach the ceiling. “I can’t see,” she fumed and set down the equipment case. “Liu, help me set up a few of the lamps.”

  He knelt beside her and pulled the small drone lanterns from their case. She switched one on, guiding it with the feed. It was soon joined by Liu’s, floating around the top of the column. “What is that?” asked Titov. Rebecca made the lantern hover near a massive globe of sparkling glass embedded in the column.

  “That’s no steam vent,” breathed Hackford.

  “Liu, pull your light down toward the middle, I want to see the whole thing.”

  Deep lines swept down the column in gradual curves. Titov lit another lamp and it circled the back where the curves rounded into thin blades of clay, studded with large panels of colored glass where the light seeped through to the other side.

  “It’s a— a bug. Like one of those hopper things Spixworth has in the lab,” said Liu, craning to see up through the top of his opaque helmet.

  “What now? What’d you find?” Spixworth said sleepily into the feed. “No fair, been up all night and now you find the good…” he trailed off. “Oh, wow,” he breathed.

  “What is it? Do you know?” asked Liu.

  “Hold on, I’m switching through the feed so I can see all of it. Nobody move.”

  Rebecca fidgeted. Any other time, she’d be as lost in wonder as the others, but the hours were creeping by and as beautiful as the column carvings were, they could neither help nor harm the Keseburg. They had to find something soon, or she’d have to wait years to get another chance.

  “It’s rather like a locust— but not the same. The eyes are wrong and the legs. Do you think these things were worshiped, Emery?”

  “I don’t know. All we have to compare it with so far is the other column. For all we know this could have been the pest removal area of this place.”

  “They aren’t pests.”

  She smiled. She could almost hear Spixworth’s scowl.

  “Don’t leave, I’m coming down there.”

  “Oh no,” broke in the Captain. “I okayed this mission for Emery, Liu, and Titov. You are supposed to be on your sleep cycle.”

  “Exactly,” said Spixworth, “I’m not doing anything important, so what difference—”

  “No.” The Captain shut the feed off as the argument continued.

  “You think he’ll make it down here?” asked Liu.

  “He’ll make it. We did,” said Titov with a short laugh. “But we can’t wait. Do we have enough pictures of this, Emery? We’ve got to keep moving.”

  “Let’s get a few around back,” she said, reluctantly moving her lantern, “and then we’ll figure out what else is in here. But I don’t think we need to worry that we’re walking around a live volcano anymore.”

  Liu wandered away as Emery and Titov positioned the lamps and took minuscule samples from the statue. The columns looked vaguely like the thing that had flown over him, the thing Spixworth had traced over the feed. They’d gone over and over the video, but it was too short and the rising sun had made large spots of glare. And now they were down here in the dark looking for it. What if it was frightened of them? What if it wasn’t? What if it saw him and thought he looked delicious? Liu shivered. He looked around to steady himself and kicked something accidentally. It rolled unevenly over the floor. He bent over to look at it. A small figurine lay about a foot from a pair of others. He picked it up. It was similar to the column, a long, winged insect, but this one was painted. The other two were different. Some kind of bird or bat. No feathers and a sharp, curved beak and long claws. They were posed, their pale veinous
wings outstretched, long necks bent like the old images of vultures Liu had seen long ago in school. He looked back at the figure of the insect in his hand. A thin spike of bright metal was attached to its foreleg and Liu had a sudden memory of his brother’s room. Tiny battles with ancient soldiers. A gun had broken off one of the soldier’s hands and his father had been angry. He’d lectured them on the expense of wood on the Keseburg and how lucky they were to have such a lavish toy. They’d been extra careful after that.

  “Hey, Emery,” he said, “come look at these.”

  Rebecca turned toward Liu and he held up the figurine “I think they might be action figures,” he said.

  “Action figures?” she asked.

  “Toys.”

  She looked around them. “Children. A school maybe?” She shook her head, trying to refocus. “Let’s not assume anything yet— where did you find them?”

  Titov tuned them out, moving his lantern back toward its case. Something shimmered at the edge of his helmet as the light passed by. He turned to look. A spire of glass stood behind him. Crystalline shape, familiar but he couldn’t place it. He wasn’t a geologist. “Hackford, what does this remind you of?” he asked, circling the glass. There was a pause over the feed.

  “Looks like a prismatic growth. Or maybe— can you put the light at the peak?”

  He moved the lantern and waited, his eyes trailing down the glass, staring at the strange, dim reflection of his suit.

  “Definitely sphenoid, but the color is wrong. Can you get a sample?”

  Something beneath Titov’s reflection caught his eye and he focused on the interior, moving the lantern to the opposite side so it would shine through. “It’s not a stone, Hackford.”

  “Flaming core. What is that thing, Titov?”

  He shook his head. “I’m— I’m not certain.” It glittered in the lantern’s glow, translucent and glossy. His attention was caught by the legs first. Rigid silver spikes splayed to the sides. The bottom two had thick, curving thorns and the top pair ended in sharp, ridged claws. Each leg would have matched Peter’s height. Titov raised his head still higher, his gaze sliding to the top of the central body. It was curled, shrunken, but still, it towered over him. Thick panels overlapped down its broad center. “Like hull plating,” he murmured. “It’s like a suit of armor or something.”

  “Titov, look at its eyes,” gasped Hackford.

  They were hollow, filmy things, the light passing through as if they were large globes of thin mist. “Creepy,” he muttered.

  “Forget its eyes, look at its teeth,” said Liu at his side. Titov glanced over. Liu’s face curled back in revulsion, the figurines in his hand sagging and forgotten. Titov turned back to the thing inside the glass. The mouth was a triangular void ending in a pair of long articulated fangs.

  “Maybe— maybe we should go back,” said Liu nervously.

  “Why?” asked Titov. “It’s obviously dead.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more around here somewhere. And I don’t really want to be bitten by one of those things.”

  “It’s a trophy case,” said Rebecca, circling it. “Perhaps whoever lives here hunted these things. It would explain the veneration— the statues, the figurines, these cases of corpses.”

  “Cases?” asked Titov.

  “Didn’t you notice?” Rebecca moved her lantern, letting it sweep down the long room. Two long rows of cases, flashing and sparkling as the light passed by. Shadows of the same curled shape, the same slender spines of legs appeared and sank back into the dark.

  “Galactic void…” breathed Liu. “If they hunt these things, what will they do to us?”

  “Everyone just relax,” Spixworth’s voice broke in. “Those aren’t corpses, Emery. At least, not the one you’re standing in front of, I won’t know about the others until I see them.”

  “Sure looks like a dead thing to me,” said Titov.

  “Go around to the back again. See that hole in the shell?”

  Titov circled the case, followed by Liu. He focused on the large break in the body.

  “You see how the material is peeled back, poking outward? It means something burst out of this.”

  “That isn’t making it better,” said Liu.

  Spixworth sighed. “It’s a molt. The organism inside outgrew its exoskeleton, that’s all. It wasn’t killed, it just shed its old shell.”

  “So it’s bigger than this?” cried Liu.

  “When I find one, I’ll tell you. I’m almost to your beacon, I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  “Why would they keep a shed skin?” asked Rebecca.

  “Your hypothesis is that the people that lived here venerated them. I don’t see why this should change that line of reasoning. If these people venerated these— bug-things, why wouldn’t they keep anything the bugs left behind? Maybe the molted shell was sacred, a type of relic.”

  “What about these bird guys?” asked Liu, holding up a figurine.

  Rebecca frowned. “Some kind of bat, maybe? That lived down here or were forced down here by the bugs? They were clearly enemies of some kind.”

  “Intelligent birds?” asked Titov.

  She shrugged. “Not necessarily. Could be difficult prey. But then, why not? For all we know, they could be mythical. The equivalent of dragons or something.”

  “I fail to see how any of this helps us.” Captain Stratton’s voice was flat. “Time’s ticking, Emery.”

  “Yes, of course. We should leave the theorizing for later. We need to gather as much actual information as possible.” She recalled her lantern and picked up her case of equipment, ready to move on. “We should finish surveying this room and then head back to the ramp, unless there’s another passageway from here.”

  Liu quietly packed the figurines into his specimen case. Titov ran his hands down the glass case, looking for a latch. “I want to get a sample of that thing if I can,” he said.

  “Abort! Spixworth, abort!” Captain Stratton’s voice yelled over the feed. “Flaming core, Spixworth, do you hear me? I said abort!”

  “What’s going on?” asked Liu.

  “Liu! Get them up here, get everyone back here, now. Leroux, into the ship, give Hackford your sidearm.”

  “Sidearm?” asked Titov, turning toward the others.

  “Spixworth, abort and meet the others or so help me, I’ll leave you out there for that thing!”

  “But Captain I think—” Spixworth’s voice halted as a thick hiss stuttered through the feed. It trailed off and a vibrating chirp replaced it. Rebecca flicked through the feed to find Spixworth’s visual. Hovering over him, swaying side to side on slender stilts, was a living version of the skin in the case. Its head snapped forward, articulated teeth spread wide and a sharp clacking erupted from it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Issk’ath took a step backward, raising up to its full height. It took the animal a moment to notice. It was small, this beast. Not small enough to ignore, but smaller than Issk’ath. Bipedal, warm-blooded, its pheromones were unfamiliar. Something utterly new.

  It did not come from the nest, but from the river, surprising Issk’ath. But its tympana were sensitive and it heard the animal long before the creature realized Issk’ath was there. It knew when the animal saw him, could hear the thing’s pulse turn rapid and its respiration stutter. Issk’ath raised its arms. A warning. A test of the animal’s intentions. The animal paused, stood very still. Froze. As the Kek’hwe had done before the colony had hunted them to extinction. A prey animal then. Issk’ath lowered its arms. The animal took a hesitant step forward. A sound echoed in its round, shining head. “But Captain, I think—”

  Issk’ath twisted its head and hissed releasing a thick plume of synthetic pheromones intended to soothe and lure the animal. But it didn’t relax. Issk’ath tried a friendly chirp. It swayed, hoping the animal was open to suggestive hypnosis. The beast didn’t move. Issk’ath closed on it slowly. Its forearms shot out and clutche
d the animal before it could flee. Soft. No exoskeleton. Had it molted? Issk’ath opened its mouth and extended its maxillae tapping carefully on the animal’s head. It had not molted. It was not organic. The materials were synthetic. Some familiar, some not. Was it like Issk’ath? Had something created it? Issk’ath clacked a series of questions to it, forgetting that the sounds it made were unlike the colony’s. The thing remained still. It didn’t respond. Issk’ath was too fascinated to care.

  A rapid series of noises erupted from the nest. Issk’ath twisted its head around to see more of the animals climbing the ramp. Pack or herd? Issk’ath’s antennae flickered, testing the air. Similar pheromones, except one. The alpha? They were loud, these ones, and carrying things. They had tools. No animals had tools. Except the colony. One of them waved a metal stick around. The animal Issk’ath was holding was making sounds again. Another animal ran up and pulled on Issk’ath’s forearm. They wanted their comrade back. Issk’ath tapped the animal’s head one more time with its maxillae and then turned and released it back to its pack. It backed away a few steps and stopped.

  Issk’ath was surprised. It expected them to flee. It meant to follow them back to their habitat, to study them. But they stared at it instead, making those rapid bleats and waving their soft arms. The first animal approached again. Issk’ath raised its arms in warning and the animal stopped. The bleats of the others grew in volume. The animal turned its head and bleated back. Softer, slower. Its stubby antennae waved in the air a moment and then a long stridulation erupted from it. Issk’ath lowered its arms and leaned forward. It scuttled around the animal searching for its tegmina. Issk’ath chirped back, encouraging it to make the noise again. The animal obliged, but Issk’ath could not see how. It sank back, swaying, trying to calm the herd. All but one of the other animals began to approach. One reached slowly up, the one with distinctive pheromones. Issk’ath froze, waiting. It was only fair, it had tasted them. The stubby antennae glided over Issk’ath’s chassis, traced the illuminated pathways of the storage network. The other two crowded around also reaching out. One traced a pattern, connected the nodes. Issk’ath gently followed its antenna with one tarsus, retracing the pattern. The animals twisted their heads, speaking to one another. One tapped on the chassis again and made a noise. It repeated the noise. Issk’ath considered. It tapped the illuminated web of information and clacked “colony.” They waited. Issk’ath clacked again, patiently. The animal it had grabbed took a tool from one of the others. It flipped something. It smacked with a hard click. The animal did it again. Worked out a series. Issk’ath clacked the correct pattern, slowly this time, tapping on its chassis. The animal repeated the pattern with the tool. The colony heard. Issk’ath’s chassis began to light up, patterns zipping in light across it, the pulses almost too quick to see. The colony was talking to itself. Long dormant programs initiated inside Issk’ath, neglected learning algorithms kicked in.