New Frontiers- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Any sign of the predators that ate the whale?” Alexander asked.

  “No, sir,” Stone replied.

  “Then let’s pack it in. We need to get Max back to Doctor Crespin for a thorough examination.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Max replied from the back of the shuttle.

  “All the same,” Alexander said. He made a wide circle around the whale carcass and opened the shuttle’s loading bay as he approached. The doors parted, the ramp dropped, and Alexander drove straight up.

  The rover and Lieutenant Stone’s Cheetah were now both thoroughly contaminated, and there was no airlock big enough to sterilize either, so they couldn’t take off their helmets yet. The airlocks back at the hab complex would sterilize them all—except for Max. Thanks to his exposure to the elements, he was about to enjoy an extended stay in the quarantine module.

  The flight back to the habs was short. Alexander saw the white domes gleaming on the horizon long before they arrived.

  After they landed, Korbin passed Max a spare helmet inside the shuttle airlock on their way out; then they went from the shuttle’s airlock to a field of red grass, to the quarantine module of the hab complex.

  Doctor Crespin greeted them all on the other side of the airlock. “Welcome back,” he said, his voice transmitted by external speakers in his helmet. They’d called ahead, so he knew to expect them. “How are you feeling, Max?”

  “Never better.”

  “Tired?”

  “Actually no. I had a good sleep.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear. Please follow me—all of you, and do keep your helmets on for now—although if our findings continue to hold true, we may be able to take them off soon.”

  “How’s that, Doctor?” Alexander asked.

  “It would be better if I showed you.”

  The quarantine module was the same size as all the others—about a thousand square feet, but this module seemed smaller for all the equipment that had been crammed into it—not the least of which were four stretcher beds. Alexander spied Seth Ryder lying on one of them, sitting up and watching them as they approached. Lieutenant McAdams stood beside him. Both of them still had their pressure suits and helmets on in order to keep them safe from all the potentially dangerous samples in quarantine.

  “While you were gone, I’ve been studying the atmosphere with McAdams as you requested, Captain. The composition of elements in the air is definitely breathable, but I suppose you already know that from Max.”

  Alexander nodded.

  “The air is also safe to breathe as far as we can tell. We’ve only collected samples around the habs, but we didn’t identify any airborne pathogens, and I’ve been using Ryder here to do a few controlled tests for allergens. Again, at least as far as he’s concerned, we didn’t find anything worrying, but we won’t know for sure until we test a sizable group of people. He is apparently a good test subject, though. How did you put it, Mr. Ryder?”

  “Just lookin’ at a flower back on Earth makes me sneeze. My nose is a snot farm in the spring.”

  “Lovely,” Korbin said.

  Crespin smiled behind his helmet. “Yes. Here comes the really interesting part.” He reached over to a table beside him and picked a vial of dirt from a case of matching vials. He held it up to the light so that everyone could see. “We had some extra time, so we got to studying soil samples. We were particularly interested in finding strains of bacteria that might be harmful to humans, since that would be a significant obstacle to the planet’s habitability. “So far, we’ve identified fifty-two different strains of bacteria, and twelve viruses found living inside of them. The viruses are completely inert to us because what passes for DNA and RNA on Wonderland is literally worlds apart from our own genetic code. For them to mess with our cells using their genetic instructions would be like trying to force a square peg into a round hole.”

  Alexander nodded. “That’s a relief.”

  “As for the bacteria, there’s a much more interesting story there…”

  “How so?”

  Alexander noticed that McAdams was fidgeting, looking like a pot of boiling water ready to explode.

  “Why don’t we turn down the lights?” she suggested.

  Crespin nodded. “Yes, let’s do that,” he said, and made a gesture to the hab module’s optical sensor.

  The lights faded to black, leaving them in darkness, but for a weak radiance bleeding through the hab canvas overhead.

  “Wait for it…” Crespin said.

  “Wait for what?” Alexander asked.

  A split second later the vial with the soil sample began glowing blue. Alexander remembered the glowing plants in the jungle. Maybe that effect had been caused by bacteria.

  “Incredible…” Cardinal breathed.

  “Bio-luminescent bacteria,” Alexander guessed.

  “Yes, and their photosynthetic counterparts.”

  “Photosynthetic?” Alexander felt his eyebrows floating up. “Like plants?”

  “Exactly,” Crespin said. “One type of bacteria produces light, while another type feeds on the light that they produce.”

  “Wouldn’t that make them parasites?” Cardinal asked.

  “It would, but the photosynthetic bacteria also produce things that the bio-luminescent ones need. They’re symbionts. Without one, the other can’t exist. Lights,” Crespin said, issuing a verbal command this time. The hab’s illumination returned to normal and the vial stopped glowing.

  “So what does that mean for us?” Alexander asked.

  “It wouldn’t mean much, except that there’s no sunlight inside our bodies, so the photosynthetic bacteria can’t survive there without their bio-luminescent counterparts, and after extensive testing, I’ve confirmed that the bio-luminescent bacteria can’t live inside of us. The environment in our bodies is completely toxic to them.”

  “So you’re saying we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Well, no. We have only studied a very small number of bacteria so far. I’m saying that we don’t have to worry about these bacteria. We’d need to spend years testing samples here with a team of hundreds or maybe even thousands to be sure that none of Wonderland’s microorganisms are infectious to us.”

  Alexander felt himself growing impatient. “So you really haven’t established anything yet.”

  Doctor Crespin drew himself up, seeming to take umbrage at that. “We’ve found bio-luminescent bacteria living in symbiosis with photosynthetic ones. I thought you might find that interesting.”

  Alexander sighed. Scientists. “It is interesting, but it’s not the green light for colonization that we’re looking for.”

  Crespin nodded to Max. “If you want a green light, all we need to do is study him. One day’s exposure to the elements without a helmet is going to give us more insight than a year’s worth of tests. It’s a lucky thing that happened. We never could have authorized intentionally exposing someone to Wonderland, but now we don’t have to.”

  “I’m not sure if I should feel honored or insulted,” Max said.

  “Definitely honored,” Crespin replied. “If you die, you will have saved the lives of thousands of colonists by preventing them from coming here—or at least by preventing them from exposing themselves to Wonderland the way you have. And if you live, you’ll be responsible for making colonization a possibility much sooner than would have otherwise been the case. Either way you’ll be a hero.”

  “A dead hero.”

  “Better than a live failure,” Alexander said.

  “I’m the president’s direct representative! Hardly a failure.”

  “Yes, of course,” Crespin said, his tone indulgent.

  “Keep us informed, Doctor,” Alexander said. “Do you need to perform any tests on the rest of us?”

  Crespin shook his head. “No. Not unless someone else was exposed to the elements?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Then you’r
e free to go.”

  Alexander nodded. “Let me know if there are any more developments.”

  “Of course.”

  Alexander nodded to the rest of the crew. “Let’s go get some food and rest. We’ve earned it.”

  “Actually,” Cardinal began, “I’d like to stay here and begin studying my samples. Given McAdams and Doctor Crespin’s findings I have some interesting leads to follow.”

  “Suit yourself. Stone?”

  He shook his head. “I can study rocks later. They’ll still be waiting for me after a meal and a hot shower.”

  Alexander walked to the nearest hab module entrance and joined Stone and Korbin in the airlock for yet another decontamination cycle.

  Stone shot him a look. His furrowed brow showed clearly through his visor. “We need to talk, Captain.”

  “I’m listening.” Alexander said, as he activated the radiation shield on his helmet. His visor polarized, blinding him.

  Korbin gave a verbal command to initiate decontamination, and a warning siren sounded. A second later, the airlock began humming like a giant microwave.

  Stone had to raise his voice to be heard above the noise. “There’s something strange going on here,” he said.

  “More than one something,” Korbin added.

  Stone glanced her way. “No, I mean…”

  A musical tone sounded and Alexander deactivated his radiation shield. His visor became transparent once more, and he saw the light above the airlock doors turn green. The inner doors slid open, admitting them to the adjacent mess and recreation module. As soon as he was on the other side of the airlock, Alexander twisted his helmet to break the seal and breathed his first breath of fresh air in more than twelve hours of search and rescue operations.

  Korbin walked by him, already twisting off her helmet, but Stone stuck around.

  Alexander ran his fingers through sweaty hair, enthusiastically scratching at itches that had been taunting him for hours. Stone removed his own helmet and scratched, too, but his hair was shaved so close that it looked like a shadow on his scalp, so Alexander wasn't sure what was making him itch. Alexander nodded to the nearest couch. “Let’s sit. My feet are killing me after that hike through the jungle.”

  Stone nodded.

  Once seated, Alexander asked, “What’s on your mind?”

  “Wonderland. Have you noticed how many coincidences are piling up?”

  “I’ve noticed a few—why?”

  “A few? We all predicted breathable air. Vasquez predicted tsunamis and then one of them hit us. I joked that we might run into a hairy T-rex when I was trying to convince you to take the Cheetahs, and Max confirmed that’s what was chasing him… do I need to go on?”

  Alexander shook his head. “What are you trying to say, Stone? That Wonderland is haunted?”

  “No… maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that every time we predict something here, it has a way of happening.”

  “Let’s not get superstitious. Statistically, coincidences have to occur eventually, even a chain of them, and in retrospect those coincidences tend to look more ordered than they are. Our brains are good at recognizing patterns, but that doesn’t mean there’s any meaning to them. There’s no possible mechanism for a relationship of cause and effect between our predictions and what we actually find on Wonderland.”

  “Logically, I have to agree, but the evidence is mounting. Come on. Try it. Predict something. If it happens, we’ll know that something strange is going on here.”

  “Or we’ll know that we made a reasonable prediction based on the available evidence.”

  “So make an unreasonable prediction.”

  “All right, fine. I predict that the trees are going to start talking to us.”

  “That’s good, but I think Cardinal already believes that—especially now that he’s found plants that move. Try something more specific.”

  “Okay, they’re going to tell us to go home before we destroy their planet the way we did ours.”

  Stone smiled. “Good. That’ll do.”

  Alexander suddenly looked up to the ceiling, then all around him, as if tracking a fly.

  “What is it?”

  Alexander cocked his head and put a hand to his ear. “Do you hear that?”

  Stone’s brow dropped and his eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “It sounds like… leaves rustling in the wind… I think they’re saying something! It’s not very clear…”

  “Very funny.”

  “Hold on, I have it—Humans go home. That’s it. They want us to leave. We’d better start packing our bags. Sound the alert, Lieutenant.”

  “All right, I’m out of here,” Stone said, rising from his couch.

  Alexander feigned surprise. “You didn’t hear them?”

  Stone leveled a finger at him. “Joke all you want, but if that actually happens, don’t come crying to me.”

  “If that actually happens, I’ll never eat another salad again.”

  “You hate salad.”

  Alexander grinned. “So it won’t be hard to live up to.”

  “Yeah…” Stone turned to leave. “Goodnight, sir.”

  Alexander watched him go, his smile fading to a frown. As ridiculous as it sounded, Stone had put his finger on something that had been bothering Alexander for days. So far Wonderland had met all of their expectations, and at this point, talking trees wouldn’t surprise him one bit.

  That night, as Alexander lay in his hab module, drifting off to sleep with his mind caught in a hallucinogenic state somewhere between awake and dreaming, he thought he heard leaves rustling. The rustling became indistinct whispering, and he dreamed of giant, kilometer-high trees waving their branches in a deliberate dance, as if trying to communicate with him through sign language.

  Alexander’s mind flashed back to a memory from the jungle—black branches writhing like snakes, larger ones undulating like waves. Under the influence of dream-logic, the patterns all made perfect sense, and he understood what the trees were trying to say, but they weren’t saying humans go home.

  They were saying welcome home.

  Alexander awoke the next morning with a deep frown and a furrowed brow. He tried to focus on his dreams, to remember them clearly, but they slipped away like sand running through his fingers. All he could remember clearly was the trees had been talking to him.

  Alexander smiled as reason intruded on that fantasy. It was just a dream, and he’d had that dream as a direct consequence of his conversation with Lieutenant Stone.

  Just another coincidence, he insisted to himself.

  CHAPTER 25

  30 Days Ago, April 8, 2791

  (Earth’s Frame of Reference)

  “Mr. President—”

  Ryan Baker looked up from the intelligence brief he was reading, his eyebrows beetling. His secretary stood in the doorway to his office, looking nervous. She brushed violet-colored hair out of her face, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “What is it, Miss Cathaway?”

  “I have Admiral Wilson waiting to see you, sir. Shall I let him in?”

  “Yes, of course, and Cathaway—”

  “Sir?”

  “We are not to be disturbed.”

  “Of course, I’ll see to it that no one intrudes.”

  Ryan rose to his feet and waited for Fleet Admiral Wilson to come in. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Admiral Wilson,” Ryan said, smiling.

  “Mr. President,” Wilson replied, striding in and stopping in front of Ryan’s desk. The admiral snapped to attention for a quick salute. Ryan returned it with a lopsided version of his own.

  Despite the on-going state of emergency and the lack of sleep and downtime that had entailed, Wilson still somehow looked rested and at ease. His black navy uniform was neatly pressed, and his white hair still cropped short. In Wilson’s case white hair wasn’t a sign of age—which had been frozen for him at around 30—but of distinction. The same went for the fi
ne lines around his mouth and eyes. Both features were considered fashionable for Wilson’s rank and position.

  Ryan looked a lot younger than Wilson with his comparatively smooth skin and straight brown hair. He could always change that with a visit to a gene parlor—assuming the rest of the Alliance didn’t get nuked before he had a chance—but he didn’t believe in maintaining appearances for anyone other than himself. Young and virile was the only look he spent any time reinforcing.

  Ryan indicated the sitting room in his office. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “After you, sir,” Wilson said.

  Ryan led the way, passing between two couches on his way to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thank you. I try not to drink while on duty, but don’t let me stop you, sir.”

  “Well…” Ryan hesitated with a bottle of Scotch half-tipped toward his glass. “Don’t mind if I do. Makes the bad news more palatable.”

  Wilson nodded. “I imagine it does.”

  Ryan poured two thumbs of Scotch before going to sit in a chair facing the admiral. “You first. How’s our standoff at the Looking Glass progressing?”

  “The Confederates have upped the ante somewhat. They now have a second carrier, and two more destroyers. That’s a total of ten capital-ships.”

  “What about us?”

  “We’re recalling ships from the colonies as fast as we can, but so far we only have fourteen. We have five more en route and another six we could call on if we had to, but that would leave the colonies completely defenseless.”

  Baker took a sip of Scotch and shook his head. “Do we have any idea of the relative strengths of the two fleets right now?”

  “To the best of our knowledge we’re at two to one in our favor—a sneak attack notwithstanding.”

  “And if they do sneak attack us?”

  “They might put themselves on an even footing before we could respond.”

  “So, unless we fire the first shot, we’re actually looking at a one-to-one strength ratio. We may as well flip a coin to see who wins! That’s not acceptable, Admiral.”