Planets Falling (12 page)

INTERLUDE

Loping in the bowels beneath space were the lifeless ones.  Eyes lidless, hands without fingers, minds without consciousness.  They existed before the universe began and would continue after it was lifeless again.  They sought light.  Light was to be coveted and corrupted.

In the dim nether region of their dominion, ships traveled from that place of light.  Beings, intelligent ones, had arrived and were burrowing through.  In and out, weaving through the sanctity of the lifeless ones’ realm, mocking them.  They must react.  But how might they find the light?

In the shadows they saw the tiny tendrils - roots- open a narrow seam before them.  Not large.  But big enough to squeeze through if they really tried.  The light was dim, clouded, brown and musty.  But it invited them and they accepted.

Life was tepid and simple there.  They touched it and it did not recoil.  Rather, it embraced them and they grabbed, scratched, foiled, mangled it.  Foolish beings.  Easily manipulated.  From here, they would multiply. And bend the light to their liking.

Chapter 27 – Escape

Excerpt from personal journal of Grey Commons:
 

We’ve arrived at Nine. I feel wretched.  I’m unsure whether it’s Verat's damn cold, the aftermath of my injuries on the Platform, or the malfunction during the drop.  Probably all of them.  About the failed drop - I never want to experience that feeling again.  I remember reading about an execution method on old earth where each of a person's arms and legs were tied to a rope and hooked up to a horse; the animals were then forced to run in opposite directions, tearing the victim apart.  Being drawn and quartered it was called.  I have a new appreciation for those poor souls.  I’m already dreading the drop back to the Platform.

We all also had the strange sensation that the malfunction occurred before - that we all had this experience, although none of us have been involved in a drop malfunction.  We’re wondering whether some temporal hiccup occurred.  The time on the navigation beacon of the Raven read about 30 seconds earlier than the chronometer of the buoy network.  It looks like we did skip backwards in time.

It has only been two days, but we all feel like we’ve been stuck in the Raven for a week or more.  We still have a huge mission ahead of us.  Yet, morale and energy is waning.  I’m the supposed leader of this mission, so I need to talk with everyone about focusing on Nine.  After all, we survived a near miss, are not dead or injured, and still have the opportunity to study a developing planet up close.

Gorian’s been tight-lipped about what exactly was the problem with the ship and Melat.  Gorian spoke with Fromer at length about something in the cargo hold.  However, when I asked her about the problem, she said it was a glitch in the programming.  In her opinion, Melat's brain reacted to the computer error as a threat and responded by having her physically pull her body out of the system.  This is a known side effect of piloting and has caused accidents in the past.  But Gorian’s a bad liar; I know she’s holding back on me.  Given her fragile state right now, I decided not to push her.  Fromer on the other hand will be hearing from me soon.

Melat is well physically.  However, she was dazed after the drop and has been sleeping heavily for the past few hours.  We’re still expecting her to pilot the shuttle to the surface.  We plan to let her sleep as we prep our supplies.  We’ll wake her when we’re ready to go in the morning.  I hope she’s more coherent then.

Prep is going as expected.  Gorian has debuted her probes.  They look like fat dragonflies.  They’re designed to fly around the planet and drop tiny geologic sensors along the surface.  Iggy has been calibrating a series of atmospheric samplers to give us precise compositional data about the organic molecules being produced by the plant life.  I’m in charge of biological collections.  Verat is primarily sampling surface water chemistry.  We’ve noticed one container that has not been touched.  I asked Fromer about it and he ignored me. I need to assert my command now.  Uncle Fen will support me.

Chapter 28 - Descent

The tense crew was assembled in the cargo hold.  Their equipment was packed, arranged, and locked down in the shuttle.  Grey stood in front of them.  "We’ve been through a lot during the past two days.  In six hours, we’ll head to the planet.  I needn’t remind you, I hope, that our mission hasn’t started yet.  The business with the drop is behind us and we need to focus on the task ahead.  We’ve drilled for this moment for weeks and each of you know your jobs.  This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.  Savor every instant."

Minns, a skinny soldier with bags hanging under her eyes, threw an empty bottle into the recycler.  "How sure are you that Mel’s in shape to ferry us down there? And more importantly to get us back?  She’s not looking so great you know.  Shouldn’t we wait for backup?  We didn’t sign up for this kind of mess."

"Melat is fine," Fromer responded.

Grey reasserted himself.  "Gorian’s already sent a transmission back to the Platform.  Although there are no other long-range vessels and pilots on staff back there, our request has been relayed to the Institute.  They’ll send a ship to the Platform in a standard day.  If we’re stranded, we send a message to the navigational network and rescue will be immediate."

Fromer was less sure that help would come.  He looked at the others and thought many would agree with him.

Fen stood up.  "I suggest we all get some rest before tomorrow.  On behalf of the Institute leadership, I assure you that the Families are very excited about this effort.  This expedition will be highlighted in our long history.  You will all be commended and will receive bonuses for your bravery and perseverance."

The crew members found places to rest.  Few of them slept.

When the cabin lights rose and the time to depart neared, Melat was already in the shuttle running diagnostic checks.  The bedraggled crew marveled at her new-found energy.  If she was harmed in any way by her romp through the Raven's circuitry, it wasn’t apparent.  Only bruises and scabs on her hands betrayed her recent trauma.  "Good morning all," she muttered while scrolling through the shuttle's systems screen.  "Green lights across the board.  A good day for some ordinary flying.  Woohoo I feel good about this."

Shuttles were interesting beasts.  They navigated by altering the density of atmospheric gases around them. To descend, they thickened the air at the hull and slid toward the surface like a child racing down a slide.  Its descent speed was controlled by altering the density of the air, making it thicker or lighter. To rise, the ship reduced the density of gas above it and the air below it created lift, much like the wings of ancient planes on old earth.

Melat turned.  "Buckle up my friends.  We’re departing.  Train’s a leaving."  She flipped switches and pulled a harness over her shoulders.

The crew exchanged nervous looks.

Clicking and shuffling filled the space.  The shuttle's door slid closed, the air grew
heavy, and in moments they were descending toward the planet.  The Raven was barely visible, a vinette in a backdrop of stars.  The shuttle shuddered slightly as they entered the mocha and cream atmosphere.  The thrusters ceased and they began silently riding the drafts - a sophisticated sailboat gliding toward the surface.  No turbulence was felt because the computer compensated for it.

Only Melat's sensors knew when they approached the ground.  The shuttle was enveloped by a thick fog; all they could see was a bright, brown haze.  Fromer wondered how anything could grow on the ground.  As if Grey could read Fromer's mind, he commented, "The mist’s a lot thinner down here than it used to be.  A surprising amount of light penetrates to the surface.  Look at all the growth.  It’s remarkable."

The ship landed softly in a puddle of muck.  The only sound was the sucking of mud as the pads sank into the ground.

"Thanks y'all for flying Melat Spacelines."  Melat clapped her hands, unlatched her harness, stood up, and pulled a bottle of water from a small hatch.  She downed it in a single gulp.

Grey stood and stretched.  His skin remained tight after healing from the burns.  "Remember that we’re here during a summer in the northern hemisphere.  It’s going to be hot and muggy out there.  If you feel light headed, dizzy, or nauseous, stop what you’re doing and rest.  Your suits should cool you down, but they only can do so much.  We have plenty of provisions and are in no hurry.  We want to do the best work. So take your time."  He looked at Fen.  His uncle smiled approvingly.

Fromer glanced at Grey.  Grey nodded in approval and Fromer spoke.  "If you see anything unusual, notify me immediately.  I do not care if I hear you belch or break wind, keep communications open - please."

"I’m incapable of either bodily function, Mr. Fromer.  Naurons do not digest using fermentation.  Rather, we have special enzymes that digest our food."  Iggy noted to general laughter.

"Thanks for keeping things light Ig.  Very illuminating."  Grey smiled slightly.  "To follow up on Fromer's comments, the terrain here’s fairly challenging.  All surfaces will be slick with algae, moss, and a few lichens.  You all have positioning systems loaded with the most recent elevational data.  That doesn’t mean that every hole, crevasse, and boulder is in our digital space.  So, please stay sharp.  Check your climbing gear now to make sure it’s functional."

The crew turned toward the shuttle door as it slid opened with a whir and a click.  Everyone except Fromer and his security detail tumbled out onto the surface.  The humidity clung to them.  The air was viscous, an amoeba engulfing its prey.  Moving their limbs was an effort.  Many of them had rarely or never experienced high humidity in their climatic controlled environments.  This was going to be a miserable experience.

"Where's that roach Fromer?" Verat stared at the open portal of the shuttle, his feet settling in the mud.  “Fromer, you and your entourage come outta there.”

Grey walked back up the gangway and peered inside.  Fromer and the four soldiers were casually talking.  Each donned a sidearm, slinging a rifle and a loaded pack.

"What in the hell is going on here?"  Grey was clearly incensed.  He turned back to the others to make sure they could not see the soldiers.

Fromer turned.  "Grey, please relax.  I have some explaining to do."  He then revealed the cause of the events on the Platform and the Raven.

Grey sat down.  "I cannot believe that you’d willingly endanger our lives by allowing us to travel here in a ship that may have been sabotaged.  How are we going to explain this to the crew.  You’re making me look like an idiot.  We can’t afford hesitation down here.  We’ve too much to learn."

Fromer leaned back. "Mel went through all the systems checks.  She assured me that we were safe to go.  I did not want to alarm the crew.  If we did not go, then the perpetrator within the Institute would have succeeded in preventing your expedition."

"I’m the leader of this expedition.  Not you.  And it is clear that the defabrication on the Platform was intended for me and Fen.  Your responsibility was to keep me informed."

Fromer stared at the portal.

"What are you thinking Fromer?  Respond to me." Grey demanded.  “I always considered you an honest companion.  Don’t risk my trust now.”

Fromer continued gawking.  In the portal, silhoutted by the tan light was a figure that the hybrid hadn’t seen in nearly a hundred years.  It was Mup by all physical characters, except his eyes and mouth were vacant, gaping black holes.  He was glowing lightly.  The soldiers and Grey turned toward the portal.  By their reaction, it was clear to Fromer that they saw Mup as well.

"Mup? What are you doing here? How?" Fromer whispered in astonishment.  The figure jumped backwards out of the portal.  Fromer heard surprised shouts outside the ship as the remainder of the crew met the mysterious visitor bounding down the gangway.

Chapter 29 – Fromer’s past

Fromer was merely fifty years old when he was assigned to his first security detail – young for his kind.  His previous assignments were purely diplomatic missions to improve ties between the zenats and humans.

The fun was in security; he was thrilled.  Piracy was a perpetual problem in deep space.  Most of the criminals were rogue humans, many of them pilots that had broken from their guild and decided to control their own destiny.  The vastness of space was their most effective weapon.  They cached their spoils and hid on any number of uncharted, lifeless worlds.  The planets undergoing terraformation were particularly fetching.  The air on these planets was usually breathable.  With some knowledge about the network of sensors around these planets, the pirates could evade detection and set up camps.  Their motivations were complex.  Obviously, economics played a role.  However, governors of various colonies often were vying for power, using the pirates as clandestine weapons.  A lost shipment here, kidnapped colonists there - these were ways for one planet to weaken the government on another.  These games continued for centuries.  Blood trailed through history.

Fromer was eager to assert himself.  He was commanding a vessel, the Fuerst, named after the human leader of mars that led humanity through its exile from old earth.  It was a fine battle cruiser, bristling with weapons.  The pilot was an experienced zenat named Etch.  Etch was grey, with dark streaks on his glowing skin.  Scars formed webs on his arms and legs.  Sixteen, well-trained commandos, all human, were Fromer’s to lead.  Each soldier had enough firepower to storm a city.  Their ship was the fear of the criminal world.

Several weeks before, a cargo vessel, the Stellar, was found floating powerless near a buoy in deep space, thousands of light years from any colonized system.  The crew and passengers were missing, with the exception of one poor soul, the ship's pilot.  She was lashed to a communications dish on the aft of the ship.  In her frozen mouth was a piece of parchment.  Written in her blood was a single word: traitor.  Her throat was slashed.

Fromer knew the doomed pilot of that ship and removed her body himself.  Her name was Lizza.  She was a nervous, young woman with a troubled past.  Her brother was another member of the pilot’s guild who had vanished several years before and was a suspected pirate. Fromer convinced her to provide information about any contact she’d had with her sibling.  It would take years of discourse to build trust between them.  Fromer was a patient being and ready for the commitment.  The brief exchange was the extent of their transaction.  It was sufficient to warrant Lizza's death.

Fromer and his crew had a lead in the case.  Deep in the highjacked Stellar was a tracing beacon in a cargo container.  The pirates were sloppy and apparently brought the beacon on board their ship.  The transmitter, tucked discretely in a container of spices, was designed to communicate with the infraspace navigation network.  When the pirate vessel neared a buoy, it sent a signal home to the Institute.  The last known location was near a habitable ocean planet, similar to old earth.  The naurons were terraforming it with great intensity with the assistance of Insitute exoscientists.  This planet boasted only one continent.  Most of the biological activity was being brewed by the terraformers in the briny depths.  The rocky, mountainous continent only held a few forms of primitive plants dotted here and there along the slopes - a perfect place for pirates to hide.  Caves and outcroppings were everywhere.  A ship and thousands of cargo containers could be hidden most anywhere on the surface.

Former ordered Etch to drop the Fuerst onto the face of the planet's closet moon.  Most of the terraformed or colonized planets had large, earth-like moons.  The satellites’ large mass created a gravitational pull that stabilized their planet's gravity and allowed life to thrive on the surface.  Fromer mused that the Insitute had a similar effect on the stability of the galaxy.  Without the heavy hand of the Family Collective, chaos would reign.  The Institute was a moon orbiting the mass of intelligent beings in the galaxy, creating stability and promoting the expansion of life in the universe.  He felt a twinge of pride and, could it be?  Affection.

They waited deliberately for nearly a week, scanning the continent for activity.  Fromer was resting in his cabin when the evening watch announced that a small vessel - a shuttle- was descending toward the surface.  Its source was unknown.  The galaxy-class ship from which it likely came was evading detection.  However, the trajectory of the shuttle was easily tracked until it slid behind a cragged mountain at the center of the continent.

Fromer decided it would be best to ambush the pirates at the surface.  The Fuerst’s crew loaded their shuttle, cloaked the Fuerst on the moon's surface, and flew toward the last location of the pirate vessel.  Etch landed the shuttle in a small mountain pass near towering rock spires.  The sky was grey, bubbling with clouds.  From above, their ship was barely discernable from the boulders and gravel.  They released four fist-sized, cylindrical drones, each of which hovered silently for a moment and then sped off in the suspected direction of the pirates' encampment.

Telemetry data streamed in all morning from the drones.  Each mountain pass, cliff, and cave looked the same.  All of the soil and rocks were the same dull slate with an occasional patch of terraformed green.  The soldiers took turns holding watch - for what they did not know.  As the yellow star this planet called its sun dropped below the mountains, the temperature dipped. The soldiers retreated into the warmth of the shuttle's central cabin.  The moon was rising when drone three hit pay dirt.  Its thermal sensors noticed a temperature anomaly.  It steered in that direction and began streaming video to Fromer and his colleagues.  From its elevated vantage, they could see a small city tucked in a deep crevasse a mile wide and a thousand feet below the surface.  From space, the colony was invisible, cloaked in shadow.

The three other drones joined their brother and began discretely surveying the area.  In many ways, the pirate colony resembled the school compound - the Quarters- where Fromer spent his early childhood.  Buildings were strewn haphazardly across the floor of the canyon.  Some were round, others angular.  Several of the facilities clearly extended underground.  To the south in the shadows sprawled a makeshift spaceport.  Ships of every kind were tightly packed, nearly touching each other.  Fromer began the inventory of the fragile eggs in their rocky carton:  the Deacon, lost two years ago; the X457, stolen during a firefight not far from zenat; the Rennick Blue, a transport vessel.  This last one had a particularly chilling history.  The passengers, three hundred colonists including twenty-three children, were moving to a recently terraformed planet.  They all were recovered frozen solid, floating near a navigation buoy.  It appeared that they were placed in the cargo hold of the
Rennick Blue en masse and blown into space.  Fromer counted another thirty ships, of which he could identify twenty-five.  These were productive pirates.  This was an encounter for the history texts.

"There is no doubt that these are the bad guys," Fromer muttered to Etch.  Etch closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Etch glanced at another screen.  "The biological sensor estimates about five hundred sentients in the colony.  It cannot penetrate more than a few feet underground.  I would double the number of combatants to one thousand to account for individuals hidden below the surface.  Most of the life appears to be human.  However, there are zenats and even a few naurons present."  Etch took a bite of meat from the grilled leg of some zenatan animal.

"It is time to call in the calvary."  Fromer grinned.  His black eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

The Institute and zenat high command sent three battle vessels within the next day.  The naurons sent an additional spy ship to observe the fight and assess its impact on their embryonic world. Fromer and his crew remained hidden on the planet and waited for events to unfold.  The soldiers were upbeat and excited about the prospective tussle.

The first volley came quickly.  A small galaxy class pirate ship dropped into high orbit.  The Institute vessels quickly surrounded it while the vessel's quantum drive was still glowing.  Its crew surrendered immediately with the exception of the pilot, who jettisoned himself into space.  Fromer's drones revealed that several of the ships on the surface were preparing for flight.  It was time for them to act.

Etch jumped into the pilot command while Fromer and his soldiers piled into the rear of the shuttle.  The shuttle lifted silently and circled the crevasse – the city and makeshift spaceport deep in the gloom below. Shots from a small plasma cannon in the tiny city flew toward the shuttle.  Etch expertly evaded the smoking, golden orbs as if they were annoying snowballs.  Each soldier jumped out of the shuttle, forming a perimeter around the colony.  Each was armed with a pulsed ion cannon, which ionized the hulls of ships causing their thrusters to fail. The weapons were silent, clean, and safe for organisms - but deadly to any ship or equipment that required power to operate.

The first ship to lift was a scarlet and black cruiser that held a complement of about fifteen people.  Fromer's soldiers fired.  In moments, the vessel stalled and fell back to the platform with a metallic thud.  No explosion occurred.  But Fromer was quite sure the inhabitants were either dead or gravely hurt.  The attack would give the pirates pause about sending more ships into the narrow space.  The same qualities that hid the colony so well made it impossible for the stolen ships to escape.

Five more Institute and zenat shuttles appeared above the canyon, gleaming in the sunlight.  Another volley of half-hearted fire emerged from the surface.  Soldiers dropped out of each vessel, landing strategically in the rocks around the colony.  From his vantage along the rim of the crevasse, Fromer heard rifle shots, explosions, and screaming.  It was time for him to descend.

He opened his pack, deployed a thin rope, and deftly lowered himself down the slick rock face.  The ground was enveloped in a thick haze of smoke.  Screams and rifle fire spun directly ahead.  From the drone recon, he and Etch identified a command center, which was about a thousand feet to his right. If orders were being given to the pirates, this is where they
were generated.  He felt his way to the rock wall and followed it, frequently glancing at his positioning system.  The smoke thinned slightly and he saw it - a metallic building with a series of antennae on the roof.  In this stony chasm, all transmissions needed a serious boost.  It was from this building that they were being broadcast at high power.  Two figures - one clearly human and the other likely zenat - crouched before the door, repeating rifles clutched in their hands.

Fromer reached into his pack and produced a small stick.  He flicked his wrist and the pole tripled in size; a glowing blade appeared on the end - his one gift from Minna - a lancet.  He leapt silently at the door. In two quick swipes, the guards were splayed open, blood streaked on the ground.  He pulled a lens from his helmet visor, placing it over his right eye.  It allowed him to image the heat signatures in the building.  The computer in his visor reported that there were likely five humanoids in the building.  Two were in the room directly beyond the door.  The others were in a rear area.  It also showed a tunnel below the building with an unknown cadre of individuals.

Fromer ripped a canister from his hip belt, kicked open the door, and threw the can inside.  Smoke filled the room; Fromer rushed forward.  His visor showed a figure crouching in the corner.  He pounced, dispatching the pirate with one flick of his lancet and a fine mist of blood.  He felt a jab on his back and turned to see a black figure with a large pole in his hand.  A hulking zenat dressed in traditional battle armor grinned at Fromer in the haze.  Fromer stepped back, stumbled, and fell.  The zenat warrior lunged forward with his pole.  Fromer flipped around and swung the lancet at his attacker's legs.  An image of Mup briefly passed his mind.  The warrior screamed in pain. Fromer shoved his knee in the zenat's face and finished the creature with his lancet.

Bits of dirt and metal sprayed Fromer's face.  Somone was firing at him with a simple rifle from an adjacent room.  Fromer crouched behind an empty cargo container and lobbed a concussion grenade. Upon impact, the grenade collapsed the pocket of air around the shooter.  She groaned as her eardrums ruptured from the implosion.  Fromer jumped, grabbed her rifle, and ended her life.

The visor computer calmly announced: "Assailant forward, ten meters, 25 degrees."

Fromer realized this was a combatant in the adjacent room, waiting for him.  He spoke calmly.  "Come out and I will not harm you."

The smoke lifted.  Fromer stood facing the rear door as a squat, muscular figure appeared.  Mup.

"Hello old friend."  Mup leaned on the threshold, twirling his lancet casually.  It was still undeployed- contracted with no blade in sight.  Fromer recalled the happy day Minna gave the weapon to Mup.

"Mup.  What are you doing here?  Are you being held captive?"  Fromer knew the answer but was still processing his disbelief.

"Fromer, you know better.  It could easily be you standing here.  These people on the floor were my friends, my family.  You killed them all.  I can’t let this stand."

Fromer sat on the container.  "Mup, we have no friends and family.  This was clear when we left the training world.  You and I, we are freaks of the galaxy.  Look at us.  We can produce no offspring; we are lethal; we have no history."