Jasken had hemmed and hawed about whether or not to make the six hour, low-speed jump to to Gri102-NN2.1, but eventually decided in favor of it. They were unlikely to deplete their shields doing so and it wouldn’t require a great deal of energy. However, before he made the announcement, a call came in from Skritka, responding to the notification Jasken had sent regarding the Astralbian presence in the area.
“Prime Minister,” said Jasken, settling in front of the comms screen. “I take it you got our update.”
“Admiral, yes, I did,” said Skritka, adjusting his spectacles. “It’s disturbing news. You think the individual who murdered Technician Dritch may be an Astralbian informant as well?”
Jasken shrugged. “It makes the most sense.”
“Do you think you can lose the Astralbians with your next jump?”
“I hope so,” said Jasken with a nod. “But if the Astralbians know the path we took to get here, they’ll likely be able to extrapolate where we’re headed. They could very well stumble onto the Cornucopia Cluster before we do if they’re quick about it.”
“Do you think you can be quicker?” asked the Prime Minister.
“We’re already scanning for potential planets to jump to next. No promising leads yet, but we’ll keep looking. Right now our priority is water. We’re not dangerously low yet, but if we don’t find water on the next world, or some nearby asteroids or comets we can mine for ice, we may find ourselves waiting for a resupply ship from Hruduk.”
Skritka frowned. “Hopefully not. However, there’s something else I wanted to discuss. Admiral Crush wanted a word with you.”
“Oh? Is she on the call?”
Skritka shook his head. “No, I wanted to run it by you first. If you’d like to talk to her, we can patch her through during our next weekly update without giving her access to your location.”
Jasken smoothed his mustache. “What did she want to discuss?”
“Evidently she’s working on freeing some PIC miners, but wanted to discuss it with you,” said Skritka with a shrug.
“That’s odd,” remarked Jasken.
“Not really,” said Skritka. “She clearly sees you as a mentor. However, I don’t think I need to remind you that the Republic’s relationship with the PIC is shaky at best. We can’t start a proxy war with them via a mercenary fleet.”
“I’d be willing to speak with her,” said Jasken. “I’ll be sure to advise her to play by the Code.”
“Not that I don’t trust you to do so, Jasken, but we’ll be watching while we relay the comm, so I’ll be there to jump in if needed,” noted Skritka.
“Understood, Prime Minister,” said Jasken. “Providence shine on you.”
“On you as well, Admiral.”
***
No sooner had the jump started than Kwa-Kwa, her Scouts in tow, marched over to Talon Squad and squared up against Hrake. The Hrudukite was a good foot and a half taller than her, making the stand-off look entirely lopsided. Vanbrook looked on nervously. While Kwa-Kwa should know that Hrake had been cleared of the murder, the Scout was just a bit eccentric and Vanbrook wasn’t sure what she was up to.
“You. Me. Firing range,” said the Krauqian, holding up her sling for Hrake.
Hrake laughed a deep, rumbling laugh. “I accept challenge.”
Vanbrook relaxed his tense muscles and followed Talon Squad, the Scouts, and the two slingers down to the firing range.
Krauqian and Hrudukite slings were similarly designed. Both were simple leather straps with a wide pocket about halfway down the length, not markedly different from the slings any of the other pre-Astralbian cultures had developed. Where the weapons differed was in the ammunition. Krauqians used an elongated lead orb for a bullet while Hrudukites preferred small, round stones. Hrake himself carried a pouch of granite-like stones that had been carved into perfect spheres, which was the preferred bullet in Hrudukite slinging, though a bit of a luxury item.
“The firing range is only 75 yards at its longest,” said Kwa-Kwa. “But that should be far enough to establish dominance. Hrake, I'll give you the first shot.”
Hrake nodded and stepped up to the line, placing a round stone bullet in his sling and spinning it up to speed. He released with perfect timing, remembering not to compensate for gravity. The bullet ripped through the air and tore a hole through the paper target at the end of the lane. It was a perfect bullseye. Talon Squad and the Scouts cheered and applauded.
Kwa-Kwa gawked. “Well, I, uh, suppose it’s my turn, then.” Stepping up to the lane next to Hrake, she loaded a bullet, whirled it around and loosed it. She smiled as it, too, tore a hole right through the bullseye of her target.
Hrake nodded, smiled, and slung again. The bullet went straight through the existing hole, barely tearing the ragged paper, but rustling it enough that the bullet’s path was obvious to all. Not about to be outshined, Kwa-Kwa repeated the feat, her lead shot traveling through the same hole as her first.
The competition went on in the same way for a few rounds, the hole at the bullseye growing slightly larger with each shot. Finally, one of Hrake’s shots went just a few inches high and to the right, tearing a new hole in the target. Kwa-Kwa smiled and focused on her final shot, slinging it right through the bullseye once more.
Hrake cheered and threw his hands up, celebrating Kwa-Kwa’s victory.
“Well done, boss,” said Rahk, applauding along with Tawln and Grisht.
Vanbrook smiled and looked suspiciously at Hrake, who gave him a sheepish grin. He wasn’t altogether sure the Hrudukite hadn’t thrown the match.
***
A few hours later, Vanbrook was delighted to be back aboard the shuttle. Even though it was smaller than the Wingspan, Vanbrook felt like the cloud of the murder investigation was lifted, giving him a sense of freedom he didn’t feel on the massive carrier.
Talon Squad had fitted themselves with the same powered suits they had worn on Grisseon, now calibrated to help their bodies fight the heavy gravitational pull of a planet more than twice the mass of Griffonia. When the shuttle landed, they were immediately ready to stomp down the ramp and out into a new world.
The landscape had a claustrophobic quality to it that depressed Vanbrook’s sense of freedom. The swirling ochre sands blended almost seamlessly with the misty orange sky. Dark brown lakes with shores dominated by slimy black mosses and tall white and tan crags dotted the barren landscape, but the thick atmosphere made long distance details impossible to discern.
“Our first priority is to find water,” said Raivyn. “We’ll need to check out those lakes, but given the planet’s overall appearance and temperature I think they’re mostly made up of hydrocarbons, not water. There may be ice deposits built up around the shore lines or in those whitish rocks. Doc and Reclan, start setting up the beacon while everyone else grabs a few geologic samples. Then we can start setting up camp.”
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“Fine with me,” said Reclan. “Com’n, Doc, let’s get moving.”
Vanbrook stomped off toward the nearest lake, still getting used to the sensation of weighing twice his accustomed weight and having his muscles aided by his suit. The shore of the lake was a kind of muddy sand and his boots sank into it, making movement difficult.
“Careful along the shorelines,” he said to the others over his comms. “There’s a non-trivial risk of quicksand or just plain getting stuck.”
“Then stop walking further out,” said Reclan, voice thick with annoyance. “That’s what the drones are for.”
Vanbrook shrugged, but he stopped where he was and gathered a sample of the mud, as well as a cutting of the moss that grew along the shore. When he peeled the moss back, he saw a glittering white below it.
“Jackpot!” he exclaimed, chipping off a piece of the hard-frozen ice. “I think we found our water source. Mining it is going to be a bear, though.”
“What have you got?” asked Raivyn.
“The moss on the lakeshore is growing on ice deposits,” said Vanbrook. I think we could use some heavy equipment to dig it up in big chunks, melt it down, and run it through the water treatment plant on the Wingspan. Like I said, it’ll be a bear.”
“Yeah,” said Raivyn. “We’ll have to analyze the sample as best we can down here, but Britkrup and her crew will definitely want to take a look. I’ll let Dekken know we’ll probably need an excavation and mining crew down here in the near future.”
Off in another direction, D’Jarric had a small pickaxe he was using to take a sample of one of the large, white stones. Hrake walked up to the other side of the stone, raised his hammer overhead, and brought it down with a mighty crack. The rock split in two, and D’Jarric appeared as the two halves fell away from each other.
“That’s one way to collect a sample,” said the Solaran with a chuckle.
Hrake shrugged, picking up some small fragments and putting them in a sample bag.
The rest of the day was spent setting up camp and exploring the immediate area. No life was spotted beyond the low, hardy mosses growing on the ice and a few slime molds that could occasionally be found growing in and around the moss.
In the evening, Raivyn updated Jasken on their findings.
“I’m glad we have a possible water source, but it sounds very labor-intensive. Any chance there’s a freshwater lake somewhere on the planet?” he asked against hope.
“Extremely unlikely, sir,” she answered. “We intentionally landed on the part of the planet most likely to be experiencing ‘summer,’ and it was nearly a hundred degrees below freezing at midday today. Conditions being what they are, any water we find is likely to be frozen solid. We’ll keep an eye out, though.”
“Alright. I’ll have Britkrup and Dekken working on the ice mining issue,” said Jasken.
After a brief discussion of the details, Raivyn ended the comm and went to go get dinner. Thankfully, it would just be the six of them tonight.
***
Darvik had managed to sneak into the spaceport and blend in with the crew loading supplies into the Swamp’s Pride. To his surprise, it was a pleasure ship, though the hardened armor and after-market shielding components on the hull suggested it had been converted into more of a flying fortress. He was going to make his way to the bridge when he was stopped by a massively fat and extremely warty Krauqian in armored, paramilitary-style fatigues. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal the tell-tale tattoo.
“Who are you?” he asked accusingly, his voice as big and rough as his frame.
“Darvik,” he answered, not bothering to give a false name. These people didn’t care that he was wanted by the Republic, after all.
“Oh, okay. Boss mentioned you,” croaked the Krauqian. “Huh, didn’t think you’d actually make it. Welcome aboard. I’ll take you to check in. I’m Trar-Brak of Clan Zyrp, by the way.”
Darvik nodded his understanding and followed Trar-Brak through the winding passages of the Swamp’s Pride, ending up on the bridge.
“Uncle,” said Trar-Brak. “Darvik’s here. Unless this isn’t Darvik and you want me to kill him.” He laughed, his whole body shaking.
Hoon-Kra turned, an eyebrow raised as he regarded the two of them. “Ah, Darvik. Glad to see you had the sense to get out of the house after my messenger, um, self-detonated. There was a failsafe in place in case the mansion was compromised.”
Darvik nodded. “You might have mentioned that, but I get the idea. We leave tomorrow, right?”
“Plans have changed,” said Hoon-Kra. “The RIS will be here asking questions within the hour. We leave immediately.”
No sooner had Hoon-Kra said so then the Swamp’s Pride began shuddering as it rose into the sky. Everyone found a seat and strapped themselves in.
“Woah,” said a voice over the comms. “Swamp’s Pride, this is the control tower, we have a no-launch order due to some kind of attack in the city. We’re going to need you to shut down your engines.”
“Oh,” said Hoon-Kra, affecting the attitude of a self-satisfied noble. “I’m sure that doesn’t apply to me.”
“Who- what?” said the tower.
“Hoon-Kra? Of Clan Zyrp? I assure you it’s fine.” He cut off the comm. The tower tried to contact them over an emergency channel but Hoon-Kra ignored them. Soon they were high in the air.
“We need to jump immediately,” said Hoon-Kra to the ship’s pilot. “They’ll hem and haw about dispatching fighters to intercept a foreign noble for a moment, but only for a moment.”
Darvik smirked as the sky darkened and stars emerged from the aether. He’d chosen his allies well.
***
Less than a day later, the Wingspan had landed along with the Shepherd, while the Halberd remained in orbit. Dekken was directing wide-wheeled heavy equipment in bringing up huge chunks of ice out of the muck. The chunks were dumped into a heated hopper that quickly melted the ice, allowing the rocks and minerals trapped inside to sink to the bottom. From there, the water would have to be tested for purity and treated accordingly. The system had been designed for mining water from asteroids while in the aether, but Dekken had been able to adapt it for terrestrial use fairly easily.
Meanwhile, Talon Squad escorted Britkrup and Trembi around a nearby lake. Britkrup stomped awkwardly in her gravity-compensated suit, but Trembi somehow managed to look elegant as ever, even in the bulky get-up.
"I'll admit it, this planet is beautiful," said Britkrup. "Hydrocarbon seas are always a point of interest to me."
"They're unlikely to host large organisms," noted Trembi.
"I'll put that in the plus column," said Britkrup disdainfully.
She knelt down to look at a couple of lumps in the mud, Trembi stopping beside her. The mud was fairly flat, and she was curious to see what was causing the disturbance. The lumps were about three feet apart from one another, each about the size of a melon. The mud coating each lump split, and two shining orange orbs locked onto Britkrup. There was an explosion of mud and a massive maw full of small, hooked teeth swallowed the geologist whole. Vanbrook grabbed Trembi around the waist and threw her to the side, out of harm’s way.
“Britkrup!” shouted Trembi.
The massive, mud-coated newt shook itself, partially revealing a flat, wide yellow body. It turned to skitter into the dark brown lake, and Vanbrook dove after it. He disappeared into the churning water, his hands clawed down into the amphibian’s tail. The rest of Talon Squad joined the pursuit. Trembi stood in awe, watching as the lake’s surface calmed.
Down below, Vanbrook was trying to orient himself as the newt dove deeper. He felt more forms join him in the liquid, though he couldn’t make out his squadmates’ features in the gloom. The newt thrashed and Vanbrook finally lost hold of the slippery tail, his heavy suit drawing him to the bottom of the lake.
“Does anyone have the newt?” he asked desperately.
“I do,” said Hrake’s rasping voice. There was a shout of exertion and a thud that reverberated through the water. “Everyone else, get to shore.”
The rest of the Squad obediently clamored out onto the shore, their boots struggling to find purchase in the muck. Only counting five, Trembi assumed the worst. Then a fifth figure emerged. The broad yellow back of the newt rose into the air first.
“Look out!” shouted Trembi.
The others turned back in time to see Hrake’s determined face staring out through his helmet as he carried the carcass of the fifteen foot-long amphibian on his shoulders. The massive wound on its head was a testament to Hrake’s strength and skill. Reaching the bank, he threw it to the ground with a thud. Vanbrook rushed over, his saber in hand, and split the creature’s gut open. Britkrup rolled out, laying face down in the mud. Vanbrook hurriedly rolled her over and wiped the muck from her helmet. Her eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Then they locked onto Vanbrook’s.
“This time I’m serious,” she said, beginning to tremble. “No more surface visits!”
Relief flooding through them, Vanbrook and the others had a good, long laugh at Britkrup’s expense.