Arrival (49 page)

Jack returned the journal to his pack and picked up his flute. What had once been a shrill whistle was now developing into a warm, controlled tone that was quite pleasing to Jack’s ears. “A few more months of practice, and I might even be better at this thing than you were, Will.”

* * *

Frank sat quietly behind the rock, his skin clammy and his vision unsteady. Thankfully, his rifle had an excellent targeting system, and his shot landed right in the throat of the furry, burrowing creature, severing its head from its body.

It had been four days since his last kill, and Frank was looking forward to the fresh meat as he stumbled across the snow covered field. The meat was tough and somewhat bitter, but it was easier to keep down for some reason.

The snow had begun to fall a few days ago. It wasn’t cold enough for it to stay frozen for long, Frank had noticed. Unless there was another snow within a few days, the stuff on the ground would melt away. But the plants seemed to like it. He had never seen them so lush and alive with color. It reminded him of the garden deck on board the Daedalus.

But the cold weather made his joints ache, making walking far more difficult. If the snowfall continued, he would no longer be able to hunt outside.

* * *

Day 142;

Ten days of traveling to the south, and still nothing. I am now forced to conclude that the LRV either landed somewhere else, or worse yet, they never made it down at all. They had the fuel-manufacturing equipment on board. In only a few months, they could have topped off their tanks. But I find it hard to believe they would’ve abandoned us that way. Of course, it is possible that they thought we were dead.

There is a small valley on the inland side of the ridge, just a few hundred meters lower at best. My scans show a large cave on the far side of the valley. I’ve decided to hole up there for the winter. I should be able to find enough game to survive. And the cave will give me protection from the elements, and a place to live. Perhaps, after the cold weather passes, I might move farther south, or make my way down the ocean side of the ridge and live near the ocean. If the LRV has landed elsewhere, then the Daedalus will still be arriving in a few months. Once she is in orbit, I should be able to establish contact with my data pad and signal for rescue. But if the LRV did not survive, or it left all together, then I may be alone here for quite some time.

* * *

Mission Log; Day 157;

It’s too cold to go outside. I have little energy. My vision is blurry most of the time, and my hands shake. Vomiting is more frequent. I’m not producing much urine. I think my kidneys are failing. And I haven’t taken a dump in nearly a week. I don’t know why I am able to survive this illness so much longer than the others. Nevertheless, TCS is a lousy way to go.

I’m getting closer to completing my work on the “Doppler-comm”, as I like to call it. Once that is finished, I will probably have to put myself in stasis as well.

* * *

Jack sat in his warm, cozy cave, playing his flute. He had now perfected the tune that Will had composed, the “Cetian Serenade” as he had called it.

The cave had quickly become a comfortable home for him. He had been here less than a week, he figured. It was becoming difficult to keep track of time. It was also becoming difficult to write, for some reason. He knew what he wanted to say. He even felt that he knew how to write it down. But when he did so, it no longer seemed legible.

His cave was the perfect home to ride out the cold weather. Only a few meters up along the mountain, it was high enough to stay above the snowdrifts on the floor of this small valley. There was a large rock formation in front of the entrance that served to hide it from view and kept the winds from blowing directly into the cave itself.

About fifteen by twenty meters in floor area, the cave had a high ceiling. Jack was sure that there was also another exit above him. The smoke from his fire seemed to be drawn out through the top of a pile of rocks against the back wall. Perhaps, when the snow melted, he might climb around outside and try to find the other entrance to his little home. But for now, he was content to concentrate his efforts on foraging for food and practicing his music.

Finding game was not an easy task. There were animals living in his little valley, but they spent most of their time hiding from the cold winds and snow. His best chances of a successful kill seemed to be during lulls in the storms when the other animals came out to forage.

He had found several plants buried in the snow that had edible root systems. After digging them up and boiling them, they made a fine vegetable stew, when cooked along with the bones from his most recent kills.

But the occasions when he was successful in finding and killing something were becoming fewer and farther between. Twice now, he had been forced to climb up out of his little valley in search of fresh game, usually Cetian mountain goats. If only there was a stream here, then he could go fishing. But he had not been able to find one. If there was one here, it was buried under the snow and probably frozen over. If Will had still been alive, with his knowledge of planetary sciences, he probably would have been able to find a stream.

After the last notes of his Cetian Serenade faded away, Jack set the flute down in its customary resting place on a rock next to his bed. His bed was made of the two large furs he had taken from recent kills, laid out over a pile of grass he had collected while digging through the snow for edible roots. It was warm and even comfortable sleeping under the furs, more so than any bed he had ever slept in.

Each night, he would lie there on his bed in the cave, watching the firelight as it danced across the stone ceiling. He tried not to think of his family. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he might never see them again. But it never worked.

It had been four days since his last kill, and he was out of roots as well. Tomorrow, he had to find some fresh game. If the weather improved, then so would the hunting. If it didn’t, he would have to head for higher ground again.

* * *

Frank rubbed his hands together; his fingers had been aching for three straight days. Even now, as he struggled to solder the connections on a circuit board, his hands shook. Three times he had tried to make the connection, and three times his hands had shaken at the wrong moment, causing a sloppy weld that would surely short-circuit the board, had he applied power to it.

His judgment was becoming suspect these days as well, and he knew it. Luckily, he had charted out the steps to completing the Doppler-comm before his mind became cloudy. It was difficult to get through an average day. He knew if he didn’t go into stasis soon, it might be too late.

* * *

It had taken Jack half the day to climb out of the valley and onto this rocky plateau. The howling winds and snowfall hadn’t helped. But he knew that Cetian mountain goats tended to hang around such plateaus, pushing their ugly snouts through the thin layer of snow in search of the grass and weeds that grew between rocks.

It had been a difficult climb, but it paid off. Jack was crouched behind a large rock, his rifle trained on a huge male goat not ten meters away. The wind and snow had served to hide Jack’s stealthy approach. Instinctively, it seemed, Jack had managed to stay downwind from the beast.

Jack watched the majestic creature on his targeting scope’s display screen. Its thick, brownish-black fur would provide him warmth, and its large muscular legs and huge torso would feed him for at least a week. It would be difficult to haul back down to his cave, but it would be worth the effort.

Unfortunately, it also was the biggest damned mountain goat he had ever seen, with the biggest, longest, most threatening set of horns on its head. Jack had seen such creatures in combat, and they knew how to use their horns. He had watched one of these big bucks practically shred a much larger creature a few weeks back. If Jack was going to take this creature down safely, he had to do it with one shot.

He watched quietly as the big goat chomped away on a patch of shrub. The pattern was easy to see. The goat would search the snow, then, finding a shrub or grass, it would bite off a chunk and then lift its head to look around for any predators while it chewed. Jack would have to take his shot while the goat’s head was down with its snout in the snow.

He watched patiently while the goat finished off its latest find. Jack wanted to wait until the goat began searching again. The sound of its snout rustling through the snow would help to mask any sounds that Jack might make as he prepared to take his shot.

The goat dipped its head again, only to find that the patch of grass was gone. Its head rose and looked around. Satisfied that there were no predators around, the goat took another step forward and dove its snout deep into the snow and began digging about in search of more sustenance.

Jack held his rifle steady, the crosshairs trained squarely on the goat’s neck. With that head, his only hope was to blow apart the beast’s neck and wait for it to bleed out. Jack knew the goat’s neck veins were quite large, and it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes for the beast to go into shock and die.

The goat found its next patch of grass, and began pushing the snow away from its meal, tossing it in all directions. That was it, the moment that the goat’s neck would be moving the least. A slight squeeze and…

The round smashed into the right side of the goat’s massive neck with a sickening wet thud. The goat stumbled to the left, tripping on the uneven surface, tumbling over onto its side.

Jack leapt from his perch, a surprising bound clean over the rock without so much as touching its surface, as if he had springs in his boots. He ran toward the animal to make the final kill, but just as quickly as the beast had tumbled over, it righted itself and was back on its feet turning to flee.

Jack could see the wound on the animal’s neck. It was gushing blood, but not as much as Jack had hoped.
Damn!
It must’ve moved at the last moment!

The goat was now running away from Jack, but it was only able to go a few steps before it realized there was nowhere else to run. The other side of the plateau was a straight drop of nearly three hundred meters.

With no options, the massive animal turned to face Jack, its left hoof pawing at the snow covered rocks as it dipped its head to bring its horns toward the attacker.

Jack stopped dead in his tracks, recognizing the danger. He quickly raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger again, but nothing happened. Jack quickly looked down at the display as the beast began his charge. The ammo count read zero. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice he was so low on ammo before he took the critical shot. Jack looked back at the stampeding goat, steam shooting out of the sides from its snout, snow flying in all directions as it plowed toward Jack.

Instinct took over, even though Jack had no idea from where it came. Was it from his months of living in the wilderness of this world? Was it from millions of years of human evolution?

Jack’s body coiled into a crouch as he drew his knife, squinting as he felt the adrenaline course through his veins. Everything seemed to disappear from his mind as it became singularly focused on one thing and one thing only; he would kill this beast.

In less than a second, Jack judged the beast’s rate of approach. When the goat reached him, Jack’s left hand went out, grabbing the animal’s right horn. He spun to his right as the animal passed him, his left hand pushing the goat’s horn away from him as he turned. Jack twirled the knife around in his right hand to reposition his grip on the weapon, after which his right arm shot out straight, coming around in a long arc to gather momentum. At the end of its arc, the tip of his knife found the beast’s left side, and it pierced its tough hide, driving deep into the goat’s torso.

Jack could feel the creature’s heavy ribs crack and split as the point of his weapon drove through them. He could hear the animal howl out in pain as Jack continued to spin to his right while the goat passed him by. He could feel the pressure on the blade of his knife subside, withdrawing it from the goat’s deep wound.

A moment later, the goat was thundering to a halt, still crying out. Jack had finished his spin and was crouched, facing the beast once again, ready for its next charge.

He would not have to wait long. The massive goat was in pain, but had no intention of breaking off its attack. It was already at a full gallop toward Jack as he quickly spun the knife around for a change in grip. Again, Jack reached out with his left hand. But the goat knew this trick, and altered its course slightly to its left to deny Jack the same opportunity.

But Jack had no intention of repeating the same trick. This time, he side stepped to his right as the beast approached, grabbing the goat’s left horn and swinging himself up onto the goat’s back as the creature passed him to his left.

The goat reared its head up as it came to a stop. Jack yanked back hard on the goat’s left horn, pulling the creature’s head back to its left. Jack leaned forward, carefully avoiding the goat’s right horn, reaching down with his right arm to bring the knife under the goat’s vulnerable neck. The animal tried with all its might to resist Jack’s pull and bring its head back down to fend off his attack, but it was too late. Jack drove the knife deep into the base of the animal’s neck just above the torso and slightly to the left of midline. The blade entered at an angle across the front half of the goat’s massive neck, slicing across both its throat and esophagus. Blood spurted from the wound, the hot, red fluid spilling across his knife hand. An ugly gurgling sound came from the creature’s mouth as it tried in vain to cry out. Jack twisted the knife to widen the wound, and drew the knife quickly upward toward the creature’s head as the tip of the goat’s right horn flailed around in the air near Jack’s left ear, trying desperately to inflict some sort of damage on the alien attacker before it was too late.