Alien Worlds (7 page)

“It appears so.” She accepted the coiled rope and draped it over her shoulder. “I was investigating the sound of water.” She trained her lamp into the depths of the cave. The geyser ebbed, and she could again hear the musical drip.

The ceiling slanted downward, forcing her to crouch as she followed the sound. At the farthest reaches of the cave, she found a meter-wide basin worn into the floor. It brimmed with liquid.

Her mouth went even drier at the sight. Fumbling through her supplies, she took out her kit and tested the water. “It’s good,” she said in a husky whisper. “We can drink this.”

Trace dropped to his knees. He slid his mask to the top of his head and splashed his face. “That’s better.”

Impani cupped her hands beneath the persistent trickle then scrubbed the remaining salt from her eyes and nose. She removed her flask from her belt, drank it down, filled it from the basin, and drank again. It tasted vaguely sweet. Her empty stomach swelled. Refilling her flask, she sat beside Trace.

“Real Scouts carry a canteen that replenishes itself from humidity,” she said. “Add that to our list of complaints.”

“Yeah.” He motioned at her wrist lamp. “You should save the batteries.”

“Right.” She switched it off. In the darkness, the gushing geyser looked bright. “Why do you know so much about nonpoisonous melons and carnivorous vines?”

He gulped some water then pulled his mask in place. “I grew up on Andromeda Four.”

“You’re a farmer?” But farmers were rich.

“My father’s a farmer. I… left.”

“How did you end up in a penal colony?”

He leaned away and stared.

Impani shrugged. “Everyone knows.”

Silence fell between them, and she thought she’d pushed too far. She leaned against the wall and latched her mask.

He gave a heavy sigh. “I wanted to travel, so I took a job as an off-loader on a freighter. Boring work, but I hoped to see a lot of worlds. That’s what the poster promised, anyway. So on my first night in port, my friends and I were sightseeing. I headed back early. I stumbled across a man assaulting a woman in an alley, and I jumped in to save her. It turned out that the woman was an underage girl and her assailant was a prominent government official. The local authorities needed to hush it up, so they twisted the facts and made it look like I was a vagrant trying to rob him.”

“But the girl was a witness.”

“She refused to testify. Scared, I guess, or maybe they bought her off. So, I was sentenced to hard labor. Then they found out that I’d lied about my age on my application with the freighter. I was sixteen at the time.”

Impani stared at Trace Hanson. She couldn’t have been more wrong about him. “So, the judicial system cut a deal with the colonization program?”

“They couldn’t leave me in the mines. I was too young. Even so, my father had to call in some favors.” He shook his head. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Nowhere near a farm.” She laughed a little too loudly. “I never even saw a tree until the program.”

“City girl, eh?”

“Something like that.” She looked at her hands. A farmer’s son. They weren’t alike at all. What would he think if he knew she grew up on the streets—homeless and uneducated? A fiery blush crossed her cheeks.

At least, I was never in a penal colony.

But she had done far worse than rescue a girl in an alley.

“I wonder where we’ll jump next,” he murmured.

“It isn’t where that’s important but why. We have to figure out what caused the malfunction. How well do you understand Impellics?”

“Well enough, I guess. But they didn’t cover malfunctions in class.”

“I have a theory. We know that a drop consists of a sequence of rings. I think the final ring in our session fractured and is wobbling, trying to break free. The instability pulled the other rings out of sync.”

“No, it can’t be the final ring or it wouldn’t keep latching onto us.” He massaged his neck. “It must be a middle ring. The last ring picks us up, trying to send us home, but we hit the fractured ring and the wobble spits us out somewhere else.”

“That makes sense. So, how do we bypass the middle ring?”

“We don’t.” He glared as if he doubted her sanity.

“So we just give up?”

He stretched out on the cave floor, hands behind his head. “Wake me at daybreak.”

She drew in her knees and hugged her chest. There had to be a way to stabilize the ring. She watched the flowing geyser and let her mind drift, willing it to land on inspiration. The steamy curtain brightened. She crawled to the cave mouth and gazed outside.

“Good morning,” she said.

“The sun’s risen already?”

“Short night.” A shadow passed over the cave mouth. She skittered backward. “Something’s out there.”

Trace shot forward and pulled her away as an enormous snakehead parted the rushing water.

Red and gold patterned the snake’s pebbly face. Its fangs curved inward, saber-toothed, and a tongue flicked between them.

Impani gaped. Her heart beat so hard, her entire body shuddered. The snake’s milky-white eyes turned toward her. Water splashed and pounded its head, sounding like rain on tarp. After a while, it pulled from the cave.

Trace looked outside. “It’s gone. I guess we didn’t smell like food.”

“This is drel. I want to go home. We have to figure out how to fix the ring.”

“I’m sure the technicians—”

“Forget the technicians. If they could bring us back, they would have done it by now. We have to do this ourselves.” She stood to face him, daring him to contradict her.

Then nausea struck. Her stomach wrenched as if a grappling hook were wedged behind her naval.

The ring was coming. She wanted to curl into a ball, wanted to weep, to rail at the injustice. She couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t stop doing it. There was no help, no end.

The Impellic ring pounced. It ripped her away from reality and twisted her gut until she thought she would faint. She smashed against the barrier and tore her way through, falling. Falling.

She landed face down in the dirt. With a whimper, she curled onto her side. A tear splashed her mask.

Trace shook her. “Do you smell that? Forest fire.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“We’re upwind. It’s coming this way. What’s the terrain like?”

Groggily, she took out the resonator. “Trees. Hills and gullies. A river in that direction, but it’s pretty far.”

“Let’s go.”

Favoring her bruised hip, she climbed to her feet. “Are you sure there’s a fire?”

He took off through the forest, calling over his shoulder. “Hurry. We can’t stay here.”

Impani looked at a soot-gray sky. The trees were tall and thin, the branches fanned like the tail of a bird. They whipped about as if the forest itself was attempting to flee—but the air where she stood was stagnant and dry.

With a sniffle, she hugged her arms. Her gaze fell upon the coiled moss rope in the dirt. She snapped it up, draped it over her shoulder, and hurried to catch her partner.

He stood at the top of a steep rise.

Embarrassed by her outburst, she smiled as she joined him. “How can you smell a fire if your mask is latched?” She’d meant it as a teasing reference to the pact they’d made about not taking off their masks. But he looked at her with an almost painful seriousness.

“That bothers me, too. These masks aren’t airtight. Think about it. We’re only supposed to jump to class m worlds. The filters neutralize any unfriendly gases we encounter, but…”

“We can still suffocate in a fire.” She nodded. “Let’s keep moving.”

Boots skidding, she led down the slope. Tufts of yellowed grass tangled her ankles. As they crested another hill, she caught a whiff of smoke.

He took out the tri-views. “Nothing but trees. Can you find a clearing?”

“In that direction.” She motioned with the resonator.

Bounding from trunk to trunk, they followed an animal run down the slope. A gully ate the base of the hill. It was black with muck. She leaped to drier land. Trace stared at her.

“At the top of the next rise,” she said to what she thought was his question.

“Hear it?” He turned his back on any answer and climbed quickly away.

She was about to shout
hear what
when a distant roar reached her. Fire. She glanced upward. A flock of birds passed overhead, wings beating.

Fear gathered in her throat. She followed the root-strewn path up the hill, grasping trees for support. Puffs of dry soil kicked up with her footsteps. Her boots felt like lead.

Keep moving.
But she was hungry. Tired. Her muscles burned with each step. By the time she reached the top, she was panting.

Trace stood in the clearing. He pivoted on his heel as he peered through the tri-views. “We’re closed in. We have to find shelter. Locate a cave or something.”

“What cave? There’s nothing here.”

“We can’t outrun it.”

She snatched the glasses from his hands and looked out upon the trees. Smoke billowed and churned. She saw a glint of water. “The river. If we’re quick, we might make it.”

He looked to where she pointed. Then he frowned, head tilted. “What was that?”

“Come on.” She headed across the clearing.

He went the other way.

Fear and anger raced through her. “The fire is coming.”

She could hear it clearly now—the thrum of a thousand drums. Panic gripped her, rooting her with indecision. Finally, she followed her partner as he pushed through the trees.

The ground was uneven, making her footing treacherous. She slammed against tree trunks, sliding and dislodging loose stones. Ahead, Trace crouched low and melted into the prickly brush.

She ducked beside him. “What’s going on?”

He motioned toward an animal caught in a stand of sapling trees. Wisps of smoke rose from its fur. “We can’t leave it.”

“All right.” She huffed out a breath. “We’ll free it and go. We’re nearly out of time.”

<<>>

T
race looked at the large animal. Its hindquarters were heavy but the forelegs were finely drawn, as if the beast stood upright. The front hooves were splayed almost like fingers.

Hands outstretched, he approached the creature through the trees. “There now, my friend. You can’t stay here.”

The animal raised its head, eyes wide in pale fur. Its muzzle was snubbed, its mouth upturned as if in a smile.

“Gently, gently. What seems to be the trouble?” He moved in a slow circle, wide of its reach.

The creature’s hind leg had caught in the young trees. Bone splintered through the skin with the weight of its thrashing. The saplings were supple—the beast would never break loose.

He bent over the fractured leg. How could he free it without causing more damage? Sweat fogged his faceplate. He lifted his mask so he could see.

Immediately, his eyes watered. He coughed into his glove.

Impani moved behind him. “Look.”

Flames encroached upon the hill. It glowed as if it wore a halo.

“No time.” He removed his gun.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“Can’t we just free it?”

“Take a good look.” He pointed. “The thing’s a biped. It can’t run on one leg.”

She knelt to stroke the animal. He glanced back at the glowing hill. A hot wind rose.

“You can’t kill it.” She stood between them, arms folded. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“I can’t let it burn to death, either.”

He pushed past her toward the creature’s head. Its eyes, black and piercing, bore into his.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he said, “but you’re too big to carry. This is the best I can do.”

Its stare held his. He raised the gun.

Please
, a voice not his own said clearly in his mind.

T
race jumped back. Had the animal spoken?

“Trace,” Impani said.

“Did you hear that?” he asked her.

“I hear the fire. We have to go.”

He shook his head. He’d heard it say please. Please kill it? Please don’t? Either way, he couldn’t murder an intelligent being. “Give me your rope. And go cut a few branches. We have to make a litter.”

Her glare sharpened. She hurried away.

He snapped the mossy rope between his hands, testing its strength. Ash pelted his face. With fingers over his mouth and nose, he appraised the broken leg. The ground around it was scuffed black.

Pain
said the creature.

Some sort of telepathy. Trace knelt beside it and stroked the pale fur. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get you out of here.”

He glanced toward Impani as she scored the base of a long branch with the beam of her stat-gun. On the hill beyond her, the aura grew.

He jammed his boot in the crook of the trap and spread the saplings. The creature moaned and writhed. It pulled its mangled leg free. Bright red blood smeared the bark.

“How much longer?” he called over his shoulder. Hot cinders rained down. He covered his face with his arm then locked his mask.

“Here.” She carried over eight poles roughly two meters in length and charred on each end.

With a nod, Trace wove the poles together with the rope.

<<>>

I
mpani watched her partner’s fingers as he deftly knotted the rope about the wood. She looked at the animal. Its eyes were closed, but its chest rose with long, regular breaths. Patches of burned fur showed pink, blistered flesh.

They were going to die trying to save this beast.
She glanced at the sky. The lowering smoke was tinted orange with the approaching blaze.

Trace tossed a piece of wood toward her. “Strip the bark off this one.”

“What are you making?”

“A sled. I hope.”

She bit back a scathing reply. Taking out her utility knife, she slashed the surface of the pole. The bark peeled back like paper. The wood beneath was smooth and slick. As she worked, an acrid stench seeped through the filters of her mask. Heat leeched through her skinsuit.

The forest fire had found them. Flames lapped the surrounding brush and ran the length of the tall thin trunks. Trees cracked with the sound of breaking bones and crashed to the ground, showering the air with sparks. She covered her head and stifled a scream.

“Help me with this,” Trace called over the sound of burning.

She hesitated. Reflections of flame danced over his mask—with her among them. Swallowing a catch in her chest, she knelt at his side. They bowed the pole she’d stripped of bark and affixed it as a single runner to the bottom of his sled. Then they wedged the platform against the creature’s back and lifted it, balancing the heavy beast on top.

“Take off your belt,” she called. “We have to strap it down.”

Coughing, Trace held out his belt.

She tried to connect the belts together, but her buckle wouldn’t hold. Panic rose to her throat.

He yelled, “We’ve got no time.”

Hands shaking, Impani forced his belt to latch onto hers. She tossed the length over the creature’s chest and secured it to the poles. “Let’s go.”

Holding opposite sides of the platform, they rocked the makeshift sled. The runner creaked and dug deeper into the dirt.

“It’s too heavy,” she yelled.

Fire claimed the trees at the edges of her vision. Her head swam with smoke, and she imagined her skin searing to the inside of her suit.

The sled moved—slowly at first, and then faster. The creature stirred, but remained silent. Steadying the platform, they steered it down the hill.

She struggled with her grip on the sled, fought for balance on the skittering rocks. As the roar of the flames receded, the haze grew. Trees shot as if from nowhere, striking her shoulders as she thudded through them.

The creature’s face was rigid, eyes squeezed shut. Its body jounced, and its heavy rear threatened to spill onto the ground, but the belts held.

The ground leveled. The sled slowed.

She panted. “Now what?”

Trace stumbled and glanced about. “I didn’t plan past getting down the hill.”

Impani pressed her lips tight against mounting anger. What did he mean he had no plan? He was going to get them killed. They should have freed the beast and let it take its chances—just like them.

She heard a crash and a crackle as fire circled the far side of the rise. They would never outrun it. They needed to find shelter. But the smoke was too thick to see her resonator screen. All she recalled of the area was a hill carved with animal runs and a gully of… Muck. Wet, rotten leaves.

She twisted the platform about. “This way.”

They forced their burden over the dry ground. Dead brush sprouted from dust to tangle the runner.

Impani licked sweat from her upper lip. Her legs trembled against the sled’s load. Through heavy haze, she made out the gully. Trace seemed to guess her strategy and redoubled his efforts. They manhandled the sled toward the dark mire.

The ditch was eight to ten meters long, less than two meters wide. She reached in and could not feel the bottom.

“It’s wet.” She shook her arm. “But no standing water.”

“Get the belts off,” Trace said. “We’ll dump him in easy and run for the river.”

Impani unhooked the belts from the sled, but the clasps had tangled in the long fur and she couldn’t remove them from the animal. “They’re stuck,” she cried, ripping at the buckle.

“Let’s get him in first,” Trace said.

The sled tilted, and the creature made a startled sound as it fought the slide.

“There, now,” Trace told it. “Just leave the work to us.”

He cradled the leg as the heavy body fell into the mud. Blood streaked his skinsuit. Crawling into the trench, he scooped armfuls of black leaves onto the animal’s fair pelt. Muck reached over his knees.

“It’s not deep enough,” he said. “He’s too exposed. We’ll have to tilt the sled on top.”

Impani looked back at the approaching flames. Brush hissed and crackled. “What about the belts?”

But Trace was already dragging the platform. She hurried to help him. They pulled the sled until it formed a lean-to against higher ground. The wood cleared the muddy creature by scant centimeters.

“Coat the top.” Trace scooped handfuls of muck onto the poles.

She climbed into the ditch. Mud sucked at her boots. With a rotten log, she pushed more sludge toward her partner.

Dark, dripping leaves heaped the overturned sled. The creature looked out with frightened eyes.

“That’s good,” he yelled. “Let’s go. Let’s go.”

He leaped out of the pit and ran. Fire raced him along the dry brush. A glowing rift appeared in a tree. The trunk split.

“Look out!” she cried.

He slid on his backside, arms over his head. The tree fell as if in slow motion. Flames skimmed the ruptured wood and flew in streamers. The trunk knocked over thinner trees as it bounded toward him.

Impani rushed to her partner. The burning trunk crashed to the ground. A flurry of sparks filled the air.

“Get up!” She beat cinders from his suit.

He raised his head, eyes wide, face gray behind the faceplate. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said.

She shook him. “Get up!” Her skin was crisping.

Heat radiated from the trunk. Flames sprang wherever sparks met the ground. The air turned blue with smoke. On the hill, fire leaped in quickly moving patches. It roared and snapped. Another tree fell.

Her throat constricted. Couldn’t breathe. She fought the impulse to strip away her mask. With a strength borne of panic, she dragged him to his feet.

Trace glanced about as if lost. Superheated air rose in waves around him. “Go back.” He tugged her toward the gully.

She blinked with distorted afterimages. Her skin felt shrunken and tight. She stumbled after him, clutching her chest and coughing.

He dove headfirst beneath the lean-to. Smoke rose from the ends of the muck-covered poles. Dreamlike, Impani slid into the mud. She crawled beneath the sled and squirmed behind the creature. With a start, she closed her hand over the forgotten utility belts tangled in the animal’s fur, and she clung to them as the blaze surrounded the gully.

<<>>

D
irector Hammond drummed her fingers upon her desk, still staring at the phone’s blank screen. She couldn’t believe the vote had gone against her. What a political nightmare. The Colonial Expansion Board may have no choice but to disband. After all these years, she was going to be out of a job.

A knock sounded at her door, and Mogley stepped in. He’d probably been watching her on the in-house, waiting for her to disconnect. She didn’t like Magnus Mogley. She knew the Board assigned him as her assistant to spy on her department, but that wasn’t what bothered her about him. It was his patronizing, ingratiating tone, as if his main role was to keep her quiet until all decisions were made.

“They’ve got their stay of operations,” she told him. “The courts have officially shut down the academy. And do you know how they’re doing it? Child labor laws. They claim the Colonial Scouts program exploits teenaged children.”

“That’s easy enough to avert.” His round face beamed as he sat across from her. “Just raise our age requirements to, say, twenty-five.”

“Do you know the difference between a fifteen-year-old and a twenty-five-year-old?”

He spread his hands. “Experience?”

“Exactly. And experience equals caution. A fifteen-year-old kid wouldn’t hesitate to skate down the walls of an ice hole or parasail over a volcano. They might think it was fun. We wouldn’t learn half as much about these alien worlds if our Scouts were of age.” She rubbed her forehead. “On the other hand, if they were old enough to have degrees in Impellics and Theory, we might not be faced with the problem we have now.”

“That is why I needed to speak with you, ma’am. Chief Astrut reports that his technician has refined his calculations. They’re ready for a second rescue attempt.”

“We can’t,” Hammond said, knowing he would report anything to the contrary. “I’ve been given my orders. No one makes another jump. As of this moment, the Impellic Chambers are off limits.” She looked away. Those poor children. Their safety was her responsibility. Now they would die because of political red tape. Even if there was a way to save them, she had no authority to try. “Private ownership is beginning to look better all the time.”

<<>>

F
ire raged down the hill like a living entity, consuming everything in its path. Impani clung to the belts. She burrowed deeper into the side of the gully. The pliable mud yielded to the pressure of her back. Trace’s arms encircled her shoulders. The animal pressed against her legs. A coppery taste filled her mouth, and she realized she had bitten her cheek.

Something struck the top of the sled, and all three jumped. A flaming branch rolled over the edge. Then a tree fell into the gully, hitting the ground with a loud crash. Sparks flew from the trunk. They struck the lean-to and hissed in the mire.

Impani shielded her head. Screams moved up her throat in fist-sized bubbles. Oh God, oh God. She looked at the burning tree. Tears rolled down her face and spattered the inside of her mask—and part of her shouted
stop it. You’ll need the moisture.

A branch bounded off the platform, knocking it askew. The creature fell limp. She clung to its body in terror.

Then nausea struck.

She recognized it immediately—an Impellic ring was forming to claim her. But instead of relief, she felt growing rage. Why was this happening? Each planet seemed worse than the last. Her stomach twisted as the void spiraled nearer.

Trace turned as if speaking, but she couldn’t hear him over the fire, couldn’t see his face through the haze. Another tree limb struck. The rope snapped. With a clatter of poles, their meager shelter fell apart.

Then the ring latched onto her. The flames turned dark. The world receded.

Impani groaned. With one hand, she gripped the creature before her. With the other, she clutched the belts. Trace’s arms wrapped her chest so tightly she could barely breathe. She hit the black barrier with a sensation of ripping open and twisting inside out.

Then her butt bounced on the ground. She blinked against sudden bright light.

White sky. White stone. Cold air sifted through the filters of her mask. Tears burned her eyes, and a sob hiccupped in her chest.

“We made it,” she whispered.

“No. Oh, no,” Trace said. “It’s dead.”

Only then did she realize the heavy creature still pressed against her legs. Wisps of smoke rose from its fur.