Dremiks (40 page)

Five minutes passed in silent observation of the alien surroundings before Guttmann snapped back to the present and the memory of his timetables. “Alright, this way. Take scans of everything. We need to find a good, stable, interior wall to use as an anchor for our bunker station. If we get caught in a storm out here we are going to need refuge.”

The wall they needed wasn’t far from their initial entry point. While the engineers took measurements and made notes, Tony walked back to the inoperable door. It was just as inscrutable from the inside. There was nothing that indicated any mechanism. There were not even any hinges present. He began to wonder if it actually was a door. It was like nothing he had seen on Earth or the Dremikian’s Rhyse station. He started making notes of his own.

Guttmann watched Price out of the corner of his eye as the others began to examine the floor of the dome and determine what type of ground structure they were working with. They were surprised to find that most of the surrounding area had no metal floor and was instead the original rocky topsoil of Dremiks. There was the layer of dust that covered everything within, probably blown in from the breach in the roof, but beneath that the ground was solid blue rock, not unlike limestone on Earth. There were signs of tool marks and mechanical grading in some places that the team uncovered briefly, but nothing to indicate that metal or composite paving had ever been laid. It was yet another curious development. Guttmann had never seen, or read of, an atmosphere dome using natural soil flooring.

The next order of business was moving all of the medical and life support systems into the dome to the area they had designated as the “bunker”. Tony moved the lander closer, then, unloaded the mechanical cart to carry the larger scanners and cases. The team carried everything else. Boxes and crates stacked in semi-orderly heaps, they paused to make another circuit of the surrounding space in the dome. Tony took the two ISA crew members with him; Swede took the civilians with him. One of the groups went west, the other east, walking directly beneath the hole in the roof.

Price looked up and immediately regretted it, as dust filtered down into his eyes. He rubbed the grit away. The two engineers with him were taking constant scans of their surroundings. Besides the remains of walls and the debris from the ruined dome, there was not much left within. Curiously, Tony and his party found at least three standing wall structures made out of the same unknown material as the door they could not open. He marked them on his diagram and motioned the engineers to follow him back to the new base camp.

Lieutenant Guttmann’s team found a roughly square room encased in the unknown material and without any obvious signs of damage or wear. There were no obvious doors or openings into the room and for all the engineers could tell, the three meter by four meter square enclosure was a perfectly solid hunk of metal. Beyond this strange box, they found nothing different from what Tony’s team encountered.

Swede checked his chronometer. They’d been on the surface for nearly four hours. It was time to take a break. He ordered the rations to be opened, and the seven person party sat down to a late lunch. There was plenty of water, and the vacuum sealed sandwiches were much better than the usual landing party fare of desiccated meat and dried vegetables.

“
Hudson
, Guttmann here. You are receiving ambient sensor data?”

“Affirmative, Lieutenant.” Even across the static-laden channel, O’Connell sounded tired. “Any problems?”

“No, ma’am. Some unusual findings which I will document in my report. We anticipate return in two hours time. Work is proceeding quickly.”

“Roger. Status update before take-off, please.
Hudson
, out.”

Price thought about moving from his place and sitting next to Guttmann, but noticed the black-haired female engineer slide marginally closer to the big lieutenant. Hiding a secretive smile, Price leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes.

***

Days later, Ryan Hill tapped his fingers against his tablet computer. The work on Dremiks was progressing nicely. Despite his brother’s insistence on safety and caution, the engineers had the dome nearly repaired. Once the dome was ready for habitation, the colonists would have a secure refuge from dust storms and extreme temperature fluctuations. Ryan watched his wife carefully arrange her hair. So far, she had neatly avoided official Dremikian delegations. They had to know of her condition. The meddlesome Dwax would have seen to that.

Soon. Just a little longer and there will be no recourse.

Ryan’s communication chip chimed. He glanced at his wrist and scowled.

“Yes, brother?”

Polite scorn practically dripping through the wires and chips that separated them, Brett answered, “We have a scheduled meeting, Vice Chancellor.”

“Oh, yes, with the lovely Miss O’Connell. I almost forgot.”

Ryan smirked when he heard his brother grind his teeth. “
Commander
O’Connell will be present, yes.”

“You really should let the poor girl rest, brother. She’s in so much pain, still.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you, Ryan. Get down here.” The captain killed the connection.

So easy to rile, brother. Feeling guilty about something? Something involving a limping red-head, perhaps?

Ryan chuckled. It was a cruel sound. He wondered when his brother would remember the strange lorga mine on the surface, the sabotage of the engines, and the commander’s crash, and start putting things together.

Chapter 23

Ben Fortunas glowered. His hand slid through his hair making it stand on end, again. Clara glanced his way, but decided against saying anything. Whatever he’d been working on for almost two straight hours had him engrossed. She doubted he would hear her if she spoke. After standing for a moment staring out into space, he leaned back over the magnetometer. Clara went back to her tests on pepper pods.

She jumped half a meter into the air when he barked out, “Where are those seismographs?” Too startled to form a question, she simply pointed at the table on his left. Before she could gather her wits, Ben cursed in German and stormed out of the bay. In his wake, Clara looked at the crushed pepper in her hand and back at the door.

“Lunacy,” she muttered.

In his office, the captain looked up in mild surprise when Dr. Fortunas asked to be admitted. Despite the seemingly natural ease each man felt around the other, they didn’t often seek out each other’s company. More often, their paths crossed as each pursued his own agenda. That their agendas often included tweaking the tempers of Doctor Ruger and Commander O’Connell explained, for the captain at least, their casual friendship. Right now, though, the captain had little time for juvenile teasing. Memories of his crew lying in sick bay were a bit too fresh.

“Enter.”

The scientist’s appearance instantly dispelled any notion the captain had about the nature of Fortunas’ visit. The older man was rumpled and clearly agitated. He was also trying very hard to control his emotions, but failed to mask the steely glare in his eyes. Ignoring the proffered chair, Fortunas leaned over the desk and offered his own tablet to the captain. Hill’s eyebrow quirked at the unusual gesture; whatever file Fortunas wanted him to investigate could surely have been transmitted to him rather than physically presented.

After just a few minute’s reading, Captain Hill was glaring as much as the chief scientist.

***

Marissa Hill eased her body into a chair with a small moan. Her pregnancy was in its third trimester. Her joints ached, she endured daily migraines, and her blood pressure spiked dangerously high even without the stress of her current thoughts. With the complete repair to the protective dome, many of the civilian scientists were preparing to move to the surface of Dremiks. They were ready and anxious to begin the work of repairing the damage done by Najif’s near-collision with the planet. Marissa, though, still had at least a week to spend on the
Hudson
before moving to the surface of Dremiks. Dr. Ruger was not at all pleased with Marissa’s insistence upon joining her husband on the planet, but the doctor lacked any tangible medical reason to prohibit the change in location.

Marissa, irked at the doctor’s constant hovering, her husband’s snappish temper, and Captain Hill’s cold disregard for the political realities of their new situation, rubbed her temples. Their plan was easy and almost fool-proof, yet they were being stymied at every turn and by the most ridiculous of obstacles. She jabbed her tablet stylus so forcefully onto the screen that the device chirped an alarm. Cursing the offending technology was a childish act, but she did it anyway. She had so few outlets for her temper these days. Flipping to a new report, more gently this time, Marissa wondered why Fortunas was suddenly requesting new soil samples from the site of O’Connell’s wreck.

Alarm twisting her features, Marissa paged her husband and attached Fortunas’ request.

***

“You can’t go down there, sir.”

The captain finished snapping up his flight suit before turning just his head to look down on the commander. “Can’t?” He cocked the eyebrow that he knew, by now, thoroughly infuriated her. “Since when does the XO tell the captain what he can and cannot do?”

She glared up at him. Her clenched jaw made the fine bones of her face appear even more starkly outlined against her skin. She looked awful. She was in pain. If Fortunas was right, someone might have tried to kill her. And he had spent the last week punishing her like a sadistic ass.

The captain blinked. “I have to go down there. The work needs to be supervised, and they need another lander pilot. You are not capable of flying yet.” He knew he couldn’t show her even a glimpse of his true motives for visiting the surface. He walked out of the pre-launch room without looking back at her. “The ship is yours, Commander. Try not to wreck this one.” He was fairly certain he felt her outraged stare boring into his back. He was absolutely certain he felt his heart turn cold.

O’Connell had to stop once on her way to the bridge to hurl up the contents of her stomach. The stimulants she’d filched from Dr. Ruger’s office were barely staying ahead of the pain, but the side effects were almost as crippling. She slid into her pilot’s chair without even a nod to Chief Turner.

The chief’s graying eyebrows arched inward over his nose until they nearly merged. He needed to speak with the captain. This had gone on long enough. As soon as the captain got back from the surface, Turner promised himself, he’d step in and give the lad a bit of advice.

“Lander 3 requesting departure clearance.”

O’Connell resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at the com speaker. “Lander 3 clearance granted. Departure angles uploaded during pre-flight. You are good for hangar exit.”

She watched as the radar signature of the lander left the
Hudson
‘s orbit and slipped into the Dremikian atmosphere. Thirty minutes later, Swede informed her that they had landed safely. O’Connell relaxed back in her chair and tried to think of anything but what Captain Hill, Swede, and Price were doing on the surface.

Not long after landing at the dome, Lieutenant Guttmann slid out from under the belly of Lander 3 with grease on his hands and a smug expression on his face. He tucked the small transponder chip into his pocket.

“Finished?” the captain asked. When he received a nod in response, Hill held out a hand and pulled the lieutenant to his feet. “Good. Let’s get out of here before Price starts asking questions.” He motioned to the door of the craft. “All aboard, Fortunas.”

At the crash site, Fortunas stepped out of the lander the moment the engines powered down. He made a surprisingly nimble hop to the ground, then, stooped to scoop up a sample of the rocks beneath his feet. He was returning to an upright position when the captain and Swede joined him.

The three stood slightly behind the port side of Lander 1. The starboard side was crushed against the rock face. The port side was blackened and crumpled from the wing forward to the cockpit.

Swede whistled. “How the hell did she not notice the burn pattern?”

“We see what we want to see. She’d just crashed against the rock in the middle of an electrical storm,” Fortunas observed.

“Not to mention that she was in pain and suffering from a severe concussion.” The captain glared at the wrecked lander like it was a malevolent entity. “Let’s make sure we aren’t seeing what
we
want to see. Get whatever samples you need to confirm an explosive device.” He walked forward, leaving the engineer and the scientist to their work.

The ease with which the lander door swung open shocked the captain. Considering the extensive exterior damage, he expected all of the mechanical systems to be inoperable or at least slow in functioning. He ducked his head and blinked in the dim interior. The internal lighting was off, as were all electrical systems. Light filtered in through the cracked windscreen and superstructure. The stench of dried vomit made him cough. Dust tickled his nose and made his eyes watery.

Silvery lines etched a parallel course along the floor from the main section of the ship toward the back hatch. It took the captain a moment to realize they were drag marks. O’Connell had dragged the box scanners out the back hatch and tipped them onto the surface. Panels and loose wiring hung in the captain’s face as he pushed toward the cockpit. He brushed aside a tangle of wires and pulled up short. Dried blood flaked like rust from the starboard pilot’s chair. The port-side chair tilted on its struts, away from the caved in bulkhead and a communications panel hanging at a drunken angle.

It didn’t take a particularly vivid imagination to understand how O’Connell’s side of the ship had bowed in under the force of the engine mount exploding. He could clearly envision the panel rushing downward and crushing her collarbone. Fragments of cloth from her flight suit clung to one edge of the metal box. He felt a helmet roll against his foot. He picked it up without examining it.