Alien Worlds (6 page)

The branch overhead rustled.

Impani paused. “Hello?” She gazed upward. All she needed was another vine to drop on her. She had to get out of the tree. She’d feel safer with both feet on the ground.

But where was the ground? She flipped open the resonator and tried to take a reading, but the sonic waves ricocheted off the branches below. All she saw was green haze and crooked shadow. She checked her equipment belt. Grappling hooks and metallic twine would be helpful if she were going up but difficult to retrieve while climbing down.

With a sigh, Impani looked again at the branches above. Their undersides were marred with egg-shaped nodules. Cordlike moss hung in strands. If she could gather enough of that moss, she could make a decent rope. She would loop the moss over the limb, lower herself to the next branch, and then pull it down after. Tedious but workable.

She squirmed on her stomach to the edge of the tree limb and peered at layers of crisscrossed branches. The only way to reach the moss beneath the limb was to climb over the side.

She rummaged through her pouch of hooks and clamps and took out the bear claw. With her fingers linked in the tines, she lowered over the curve of the branch. The hooks bit into the thick bark and drew moisture from the flesh beneath. A screech rose from the shadows. Impani shifted to glance over her shoulder. One of the hooks slipped and gouged a chunk of bark. The screech rose again. Her neck prickled beneath her skinsuit.

She slammed a hook into the surface and moved another meter downward. Muscles burned as her shoulders took on her weight. Mossy cords draped the underside. Rope for the taking—if she could reach it. There were also pod-like growths ranging from centimeters wide to the size of her fist. They resembled the flower bud that had blocked her path. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention?

She forced the hooks in at an angle. Her arms shook with effort. Breath burst from her chest. She hadn’t paid attention because Trace had annoyed her. It was his fault. Impani snickered then stopped.

The branch at her head rustled. There came a sound. Moist. Sucking. Long, green fingers extended from the branch. They attached to the bark with transparent cups.

Fear welled in her stomach, and she chided herself for it. She was a cadet, trained in first-contact situations.

But instead of introducing herself, she edged back.

A face appeared. Green and lined with veins. No eyes. No sensing apparatus at all, yet the creature detected every gouge, every gash left by her hooks and vomited a thick, gelatinous liquid into them. Its throat pulsed and gurgled as it worked. Its puckered mouth opened without benefit of a jaw.

She moved farther away. Her hook knocked a pod loose. It dropped into the shadows. Moisture dripped from the wound. The creature oozed forward. Its body hugged the branch as if it were part of the tree. The suction of its finger pads crackled.

Impani’s shoulders burned. Her fingers ached, locked in the tines of the hooks. Still she edged back. She couldn’t explain why, but she sensed that the creature would kill without hesitation or remorse. It was the Guardian of the tree.

It reached the missing pod. Moisture trickled like blood. With its head back, it emitted a keening wail. Flashes of green filled the branches above. Impani cringed. The creature turned its eyeless face toward her. With a rustling sound, it darted forward.

She jerked back. One hook ripped free, and the remaining hook tore a long gash in the tree. Another creature appeared. Then another. Impani leaped for the drape of moss. She wrapped her fingers around the cord and dragged it with her as she fell. The tree became a blur.

She hit the next branch and rolled with the impact. The length of moss remained attached to the bark above. Creatures swarmed about the limb. They dropped from the higher branches.

With a tight grip on the moss rope, Impani swung to the next branch. The cord tore from the tree, and she hit the branch hard. She scrambled to her feet and bolted down the broad tree limb, coiling the moss as she ran. The limb forked, and she followed it to the right. A large flower bud blocked her way. She crouched behind it. Panting, she listened to soft thuds as creatures dropped to her level.

Suddenly, the flower bud shuddered. Cracks split the sides. The fissures quaked as if something inside were pounding to get out. The top peeled back, exposing an interior of cottony white fibers.

Green fingers punched through. Then an eyeless face. The creature squirmed and strained to extract itself. Fibers draped its shoulders like wet cobwebs.

Impani gaped. She couldn’t move, could not force herself to look away. Then a bolt of blue-white energy arced overhead. It struck the branch and nearly knocked her over the edge.

“This way!” Trace yelled over the resulting shrieks of the creatures. He stood on the opposite fork, waving his gun.

Impani wasn’t sure if she was angry with him for being there or with herself for feeling relieved that he was there. With the coil of moss over her shoulder, she leaped. He caught her before she plowed over the other side.

“They’re like antibodies.” He fired again at the blackened limb. Bark flew as if exploding. “That ought to keep them busy for a while.”

The branch lurched beneath their feet. As one, the eyeless faces turned toward them.

“Or not,” Trace said.

Her head swam with her footing. “Is this tree sentient?”

“It’s certainly aware of itself. And of us.”

The creatures grouped together. They seeped along the bark. Trace took a step backward. With his gun, he motioned to the branches above. The tree was filled with green organisms. Hundreds of them.

Impani’s heart pounded in her throat. “If the tree is intelligent, we might be able to communicate, to explain that we mean no harm.” Immediately, she pictured her hooks ripping the bark. She looked down at the scorch marks left by Trace’s gun.

“Run,” he said. “I’ll hold them off.”

She opened her mouth to disagree. They were not there to butcher the locals, and whether the tree was sentient or not, it was just trying to defend itself. But a sudden shriek pierced her ears. A creature swooped at them as if from midair. Trace fired. It exploded with the same force as the bark.

“Run!” he yelled.

And Impani ran. Trace continued to shoot. She didn’t look back. She felt sick. This was a slaughter. How could fright overrun her values so easily? Then a creature struck her shoulder, and she clubbed it away with her fists.

Darkness crowded her vision. Her stomach wrenched. The ring was coming. The void swirled to claim her. She knew she was running, could feel her arms and legs pump, but the tree limbs were gone. Nausea burned the back of her throat.

Then agony hit as if it were a physical barrier. She flattened against it. Her body elongated. Stretching. Ripping. Her eyes bulged until she thought they would burst, but she was powerless to close them.

Somewhere she heard a scream, terrified and pitiful, rising in pitch. Part of her mind took census, a mental patting of her pockets to find her passkey, and she realized she wasn’t the one who was screaming.

It was Trace.

I
mpani appeared on a new planet, materializing a meter above ground and falling with a thud. She rolled onto her back, dazed, and looked up at a bright orange sky. For a moment, she imagined she could still hear the keening wails of the tree organisms. Then she realized the sounds were real.

She leaped to her feet.

Trace thrashed on the ground, covered in green creatures. She rushed to pull one from his face. Her fingers sank into its mushy flesh.

He heaved a deep breath then yelled, “Get them off me! Get them off me!”

She reached for another. Its body popped like a pustule, coating her gloves in viscous slime.

“They’re dead,” she told him. “Liquefying.”

He sat quickly. “My eyes. They spat at me.”

“Can you see?”

“Ugh. They burn.”

“Let me wash your face.”

She knelt beside him, dampened her fingers from her flask, and wiped his eyes. His skin was blotchy. Deep lines marred the creases of his lids.

“Let’s make a pact,” she said. “Neither of us will remove our masks for the duration of this trip.”

“Deal.” He winced and looked down at the green sludge in his lap. “What a mess.”

“Apparently, they can’t live without their tree.”

“But how could I have brought them with me? They’re from another world.”

“I have a souvenir, too.” Impani held out her moss rope. “This must be why the techs make us take a decon shower after every session.”

“We’ll have to be careful. We don’t want to contaminate an alien eco-system.” He patted his belt then located his gun lying beside him. “Where are we this time?”

“We’re on an island.” She motioned at smooth, green water. Other brown nubs marred the calm surface—almost like stepping-stones. “There are more.”

Trace took out the tri-views. “Must be thirty or forty, all small like this one, just a few meters wide.”

She tested a sample of water. “This ocean is thick with microorganisms. Primordial soup.”

He looked at her, eyes wide, then locked his mask in place. She did the same.

“I wonder why there are no plants.” She scrubbed at the bald lump then scooped up a handful of dust. “Doesn’t feel like normal dirt.”

He rapped. “Doesn’t sound like it, either.”

Abruptly, the island lurched. Impani cried out and sprawled on her back. The island lifted and propelled forward. Water creased before it as it picked up speed.

Peering over the edge, she saw wide flippers. “We’re on an animal, a turtle of some kind. We must have startled it.”

“Not us.” His gaze moved upward.

Impani looked up as enormous, saw-toothed jaws snapped down. She shrieked and rolled. The creature resembled a dinosaur: huge head, tiny eyes. Triangular teeth chomped at her as if she were a tantalizing morsel.

Trace yelled, “Jump!” He dove into the water.

She stared after him in surprise and dismay. The massive face bore down on her yet again. With a muffled cry, she crawled toward the edge. But the turtle jerked and tossed her back. Her faceplate slammed its shell.

The turtle rose high on the water’s surface and began to spin. Impani slid on her stomach. She heard a roar, felt a jarring impact. Then she flew into the air and splashed into the water.

Green darkness closed over her head. The filters of her mask popped. Through the thick water, she saw the outline of a huge leg. Battling a churning undertow, she angled for the surface.

The once tranquil ocean fell to chaos. The turtle creature continued to spin, turning the sharp edge of its shell into a blade, while the predator snapped and roared. Impani back treaded and looked for Trace.

A grating squeal made her cringe. The predator caught the whirling shell in its jaws. Blood sprayed in fat drops. The turtle stuck out a horned head, and then another.

Two heads
. She stared, fascinated.

Trace grabbed her shoulder. “They’re diving.”

Turtle islands all around were sinking into the ocean, taking with them any chance of escape. If she didn’t catch one while it was still upon the surface, she’d be left treading water.

“Come on!” She swam hard, pacing one of the creatures.

It was large and gnarled. Heavy flippers stroked smoothly, unhurried.

Probably too old to panic.

She latched on, hoisted herself on top, and then glanced to see that Trace had followed. Slithering forward, she looked for the turtle’s heads.

Only one was visible. The neck extended and recoiled as the creature swam. Timing the movement, she lowered a loop of moss rope into the water and caught the lunging head. She pulled as if with reins. The turtle bucked.

“What are you doing?” Trace asked.

“I’m trying to keep it from diving. Help me.”

He took one end of the rope. They yanked and hauled to keep the creature’s head up. It swam faster. Flippers broke the water like oars. The other head poked out. It elongated and retracted as it worked in tandem with its counterpart.

Impani reared back to keep the rope taut. They left the other turtles behind. The predator disappeared. Perhaps its appetite was sated.

“Land ho!” Trace pointed. “Let’s see if we can steer in that direction.”

A mist-shrouded island came into view. She pulled with all her might. At last, the ponderous head turned. They approached a sandy shoreline dotted with purplish scrub.

“What do you think?” she said. “Real dirt?”

“Looks real.” He leaped from the animal as it beached itself. “We were lucky the turtles were there.”

“What do you mean, lucky? I was almost an appetizer.”

“Without them, we would have materialized in the middle of an ocean.”

Another bad computer reference. The ring was following outdated programming. Impani loosened the moss rope. She coiled it around her hand and elbow then slid down the shell.

The turtle looked larger out of the water. Its flippers were motionless upon the sand. Both heads were out. The neck that took the brunt of the reins looked red and abraded.

“It’s exhausted,” she said.

Trace knelt beside a purple bush and plucked a small white melon. He tossed it toward the turtle. “Hungry?”

“Don’t,” she said. “What if it’s poisonous?”

“Then it won’t eat it.”

But the turtle did eat. It crunched loudly. Impani grinned. She picked an armload of the pale fruit and rolled them across the sand. The creature ate with both heads, beaks snapping at each other as it rooted for more.

“It likes them.” She joined her partner.

He gave her a rare smile.

With a roar and a torrent of water, the predator rose from the ocean. It opened its jagged mouth and bellowed. The monster’s oversized head made it look like a T-rex. But as it stood, muscular forelegs emerged, exposing huge, webbed claws.

The turtle churned the sand, unable to attain its defensive spin. Rex lumbered forward. Dark green water roiled about its knees. It bent low over its helpless prey.

Trace drew his gun and fired. Energy bolts crackled over the beast and leeched into the water. Rex roared and staggered. Vapor steamed from its body. Teeth bared, it turned toward Impani and Trace.

Impani pulled her weapon. They fired together. The blast threw Rex backward with a tremendous splash. Waves crashed onto the beach. Its mighty tail lashed the surf as the beast swam away.

The two-headed turtle edged toward the water. Its flippers gouged the sand. Moments later, it disappeared into the ocean.

Impani’s hands trembled as she fumbled with her holster. She no longer felt confident in her stat-gun. It hadn’t worked against the gargoyle birds. And if she and Trace hadn’t fired at the same time, it might not have worked against Rex. She didn’t want to kill anything. That wasn’t why they were there. But what if it was necessary? What if she had no choice?

What if she had been alone?

Scouting was dangerous business. That’s why Scouts were sent in pairs. She didn’t have to be friends with Trace to be a good partner. But it would help.

“That was an adventure.” She smiled. When Trace didn’t comment, she added, “At least, you’re no longer covered in green goop.”

“The sun is setting. I don’t want to walk around a strange planet at night.”

She looked up. The bright orange sky had faded to rust. “When we get back, we should complain. Our masks should have infrared or night vision.”

He shook his head. “That would make them too heavy. Let’s find someplace to rest.”

They walked into the deepening brush. Mist and shadow obscured their path. Impani felt like she was walking upon a cloud. There were no trees—but a vast variety of bushes snagged her knees. Pale melon shone among the foliage.

“I wonder if we should gather some of the fruit,” she said, “now that we know it isn’t poisonous.”

“We can’t eat on an alien world. Real Scouts go three days without food. They have pellets.”

“We don’t. That’s another thing we should complain about.”

He picked up a melon and sliced it in half with his knife. The core was blood red, the flesh striated with purple veins. Maggot-like worms squirmed and fell.

He tossed it away. “I’m not hungry enough to eat that.”

She gulped. “Me neither.”

In single file, they trudged away from the ocean. The grade steepened. Before long, they edged along a narrow path that zigzagged up a cliff. Three moons lit the night, and the mist glowed eerily.

“Feel that?” he said. “The rock is vibrating.”

She pressed her hand against the wall and felt a tremble. “It’s rhythmic. Like it’s breathing.”

“Maybe we should go back down.”

“To where?”

He shrugged and continued to climb. The path grew slick. Moisture streaked Impani’s mask. The growing vibrations rumbled in her chest and made her fear they were climbing toward a sleeping giant.

When they reached the top of the cliff, they were enveloped in steam and the roar of geysers.

“We’re on the rim of a volcano,” Trace shouted. “I bet the island was formed by an underwater vent.”

“What now?”

“Are there any caves?”

“Plenty.” She showed him her resonator.

He frowned at the screen. “Let’s go here. The entrance is obscured by a geyser. It might be safer.”

“Wait. You want to climb into a volcano?”

“We need to rest.” Without a backward glance, he picked his way through gushing water.

A ball of fear constricted her throat. She peered into the volcano’s black maw. Fingers of mist laced the depths. Something fluttered. Bats. Dozens of them.

If they can do it, I can.

She followed her partner over the rocky surface. Geysers rose and fell. The taint of sulfur seeped through her mask. “Stop. We’re right above it.”

He knelt. “Distance?”

“Fifteen meters straight down. I can’t make that climb.”

“Sure you can. I’ll sink a bolt anchor here, and we’ll use your rope to rappel down. All right?”

She sighed. “All right.”

Apprehension clenched her stomach as she watched him secure the bolt.

“You go first,” he said. “Yell when you get there.”

She took a flashlight from her belt and clipped it to her wrist. Then she knotted the rope around her waist.

“See you in a minute,” he said.

She nodded numbly and lowered over the edge. The wall was like black glass. She kicked off and moved down several meters. The geyser struck like a battering ram. Breath left her in a painful
oof
. She clung to the moss rope as water shunted her to the side. Out of control, she dropped another meter.

The water receded and left her spinning. She struggled to gain her bearings. Her shoulder slammed the crater wall. She closed her eyes.

“Almost there,” she whispered then continued down.

She’d planned to shine her light into the cave before entering in case it was the lair of some beast. But the geyser roared again. Water threw her into the cavern. She landed awkwardly on one hip, her light bouncing over the rock. Several bats fluttered around her head. Up close, they looked like striped kittens with wings. When the cave mouth cleared of water, they flapped outside.

Impani untied the rope. She tugged it twice and called, “I’m down.” The rope reeled in.

With her light aimed before her, she explored the cave. It was small and irregular, perhaps seven meters at its widest point. In places, the ceiling barely cleared her head. As she walked, she heard a steady drip of water. But then the geyser roared again, and she lost the sound.

Without warning, Trace burst through the steaming curtain and sailed feet first into the cave. He landed as neatly as a gymnast. Impani scowled. Her hip still stung from her fall.

He said, “Here’s your rope back. Are we alone in here?”