Officer and enlisted, together, dropped down low behind a wide stalagmite. Coughing, snuffling, scuffing along the floor, the source of the sound was difficult to nail down. A year before Justice would’ve called it a human noise but, now, out here, it almost had to be something alien. “Sumbitch … didn’t the briefing say nothin’ bigger’n bugs on this rock?” he asked in a loud whisper.

Michaels’ own whispered answer was almost too quiet; also whiny. “I told you! That was the surface! A few meters of rock over something and there’s no detecting!”

“Well so much for future science magic bullshit. Okay. So what’s policy out here in the shit? Guns blazin’?” Justice grinned cheesily.

“Uh … no, communication’s a big part of the Undertaking’s mission statement. You really don’t know this?” His shock was palpable.

“Kid, they didn’t train me for shit. Half a year in Academy. Truth be told I’m mostly here for scientists to do experiments on.”

“Seriously!?” Michaels was gobsmacked.

“Yup. They bombard me with all these lights, cut me open, sew me up, tryin’ to figure out what makes me tick. Nobody asked me neither; they just do it.”

“But … but you’re an officer!”

“I know, ain’t that some shit?” A flicker of movement and Justice realized that something was on the pathway between two massive pits filled with stalagmites. Leaping to his feet Justice drew his Destabilizer and shouted out “stop where you are and identify yourself!” he felt downright authoritative in that moment.

At first glance it appeared to be a bipedal pile of rags. Grunting in an infantilized tone it appeared to turn and focus on Justice. “Hm? Hrm? Hmm…”

“Well that ain’t no name. Maybe a warnin’ shot?” Justice mused aloud.

“In here? A Destabilizer pulse makes most minerals explode, sir. Your warning shot could bring the ceiling down.”

“Why does everything in the future suck so much!?” Justice turned his insignia’s light on, training it on the walking bundle of rags. “Identify yourself! I’m Lieutenant Commander Haymaker of Spacefleet. We come in peace!” The stranger held up a rough metal appendage; a mechanical claw, to shield the light from their eyes. Leaning towards Michaels “How’d I do?”

Michaels didn’t miss a beat. “Very professional sir. Authoritative. Officer-like.”

But the newcomer wasn’t impressed, giving a sardonic chuckle in reply to Justice’s call for identification. “This’s… Member in…” Another laugh, this time a high-pitched giggle.

“At times like this I wish Spacefleet would’ve perfected teleporter technology.” muttered MIchaels, clearly petrified.

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t they?” asked Justice.

“Turns out when you teleport someone you make a copy and disintegrate the original.”

“No shit!?” Justice whisper-screamed.

Michaels nodded. “Yeah. They’re still trying to make wormholes you can walk through but it’s a few decades off.

“Well don’t that beat all.” Justice muttered. Then, louder, standing up to his full height, Justice aimed his weapon at the stranger. “Lookie here, mister. Ain’t no translation’ doo-dad kickin’ in and I know I just heard English so what’s the deal?”

“Do ya have food?” drawled the newcomer, practically chewing his tongue.

This threw Justice off. “No, no grub on-hand on account of us bein’ here for rocks. There’s just supposed to be rocks down here and, I’m pretty sure, you ain’t no rock.”

“Never have food.” muttered the raggedy man, clasping one metal claw with one flesh hand.

“Uh, Commander? That claw looks antiquated. Hundreds of years old for any spacefaring race. Do you think there might be a people on this world living exclusively underground?”

“That speaks English?”

Michaels nodded. “We’ve seen iterations of several Earth languages in use in pockets throughout the galaxy. Other races as well. In fact, many of the speakers encountered have been human in both biology and anatomy.”

“Yeah, like just ‘humans with a bump’. Stupid Captain.” Justice muttered.

From across the floor the newcomer called out again, this time actively engaging while shuffling towards the pair. “Look atcha. So clean, so healthy and virile. Just wanna eat you up, boy. And who’s your little friend then?” This was definitely an adult man of some stripe but the high-pitch and infantile demeanor he projected; something seemed off.

“Why won’t you tell us your name, stranger?” Justice put some base in his voice. “Back where I’m from a man don’t state his identity when confronted in the open he’s filled with lead.”

“Lead?” laughed the raggedy man. “How far you gotta go for that, boy? Hoo. How many loops is it now? Memory’s all turned around. Little fella’s new though.”

With a loud “bang!” Justice pulled the trigger, shooting the newcomer in the shoulder, mechanical side, but with his antique pistol. The bullet did nothing but get the ragman’s attention (and break the tip off of one nearby stalagmite). Michaels gasped and the raggedy man stopped, standing up straight, and laughing, his voice growing deeper.

“That’s new too. Tried the zapper before, but you got someone in your ear, huh? How many is it now?” The gentle breeze wafting through the cage picked up just enough, sweeping the loose layers of cloth aside, exposing the raggedy man’s face. Half of it was metal but half of it…

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Commander … it’s you!” gasped Michaels. But Justice, in shock, just stared.

—

As the other two were heading belowground McKinley, Praggin and Derglabin were up top, scouting about for minerals that were, hopefully, a little easier to find. Heading what the Multiscan read as East McKinley and Praggin walked a good distance when Derglabin piped up over the radio. “Derg here, checking in.”

Derg, short for Derglabin. McKinley smiled a little, not having heard this nickname before but happy for a shorter name to call the little fellow. “Acknowledged, Derg. Mick here with … Prag. All is well.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“No! No, no mockery.” Said McKinley. “Shorter names are easier and, well, it’s not like we can call each other by our ranks.”

“Because we are all Spacemen. Acknowledged, yes.” said Derg. “Should we be concerned that the Commander and Michaels have not responded?”

McKinley looked to Praggin and the bulky rock man shrugged before interjecting. “Should we be worried that the inventor of Bully Style, strongest human alive, is in trouble? No. I think he’s safer than we are. Plus we’re safer being away from him.”

“Praggin! Geez, he’s still your superior officer!” gasped McKinley.

“He casually slapped my shoulder and broke some rock off, ‘Mick’! Sorry if you got a crush but he’s scary.”

Scoffing, thrown by the accusation, McKinley was unable to retort in a timely fashion. Meanwhile Praggin moved into a nearby field littered with stones. Bending he immediately found something. “Check it out! Iridescent orange, red and yellow, shifting color in the light. Oh! And it fluoresces under blacklight! Got one!”

But McKinley saw something else, something odd, something out of place. “Footprints?” Looming above shallow, roughly hemispherical depressions in the soft mud, McKinley bent to scan them. “Praggin! Do you recognize these!?”

Trundling over, Praggin squinted, his rocky brows squeezing his glassy eyes into narrow slits. “Uh … no. No. Wait…” Bending over, tilting his head from side to side, the rock man used his imagination. “Well … they move like footsteps but the ‘feet’ look like, I don’t know; manufactured?”

“Definitely strange.” Walking along the path, McKinley could see that her own feet left no prints. “Must have been muddy, I’m thinking. Dry, hard dirt now, sand and small rocks mixed in. There isn’t much of what you’d call soil in this area, mostly a rock floor with various rocky debris.”

Praggin shook his head at McKinley. “Mm-hm.”

“Oh, come on! Look around, it’s all rocks. It has nothing to do with you being a silicon-based life form.”

“You just said “rock” three times in under a minute.”

“Okay, in that case, one more time; For a guy made of rock you sure are sensitive. Sort of cowardly, too.”

“Hey! He may be our superior officer but he’s a monster! Did you see what he did to Commander Docker!? He’s gonna be down for months! Nobody’s down for months anymore! We live in a galaxy of long lives, death is a choice for some people we live so long. And he did that damage bare-handed!”

McKinley paused. “I heard a rumor that maybe Docker wasn’t treating Counselor Ilion very well. But … it’s not my job to defend people on the ship from the accusations of the rumor mill. We’re on a mission, Praggin. I think we need to follow these tracks. There’s not supposed to be any animal life here larger than an insect.”

The rock man shook his head, fighting every impulse to harp on his chosen subject. “Fine! Maybe it’s a drone from some unknown spacefarers. That could be interesting.”

Following the tracks proved difficult. Luckily anywhere a stone was disturbed from where it had sat for a time, Praggin was able to pick it out immediately. Between that and the broken branches of woody plants here and there they managed to find their way to what looked like a grove of what looked like trees that were barely two meters tall. Even though the plants looked like deciduous trees the leaves were mere millimeters across. Each one was heavily laden with fruit.

“Huh. So these are like trees, right? That’s what you Terrans like to call them?” said Praggin. Running a few branches lightly between his fingers he caught the falling fruit with his other hand. Tossing a few of the tiny yellow things in his mouth he chewed momentarily. “Eh … I dunno. I think these plants filter out a bunch of stuff my people need. Definitely no silica in there.” Holding a clenched fist out he dropped the tiny fruit into McKinley’s hands.

“They look like bananas and lemons put together.” she muttered. Nibbling the edge she found the skin tough and bitter but pulling both tips popped out the fruit. “Hm. Surprising. Tastes how it looks.”

“Looks like our guy probably stripped these trees over here. Probably not a drone then. Hey … dry mud patch. He doubled back.” Praggin, it turned out, was a pretty good tracker.”

Doubling back the pair quickly found themselves alongside Derglabin. “Do you have the samples?” Derg asked brusquely.

“Uh … here?” offered Praggin. The iridescent and fluorescent stone of warm colors shone in Derg’s eyes.

It was short-lived, however. “And where are the other samples? I need at least twenty unique samples. When we leave here you bunch are done but I have to run many tests. Have you ever done taxonomy work on unique elements? It’s horrible! The work is fine but almost every subject results in no results! Just another agate or form of carbon misidentified.”

“Derg, we found footprints.” said McKinley.

“Liar. You’re just lazy.” said Derg.

“What the?”

“Apologies! My species has a tendency to tell the most blunt form of truth. I should have lied about how I felt just now.”

Praggin covered his mouth, stifling laughter.

McKinley scowled. “Look, we think the trail of whomever left those prints goes in the same direction the Commander and Michaels went. Aren’t you curious why they’re out of communications range?”

“They’re underground, almost assuredly.”

McKinley cocked her head to one side, palms up, trying to make the lizard midget think.

“Ah! As with a cave or similar tube that is much more likely to have large samples of minerals, potentially unique elements, than is the surface! Yes, we should all go tracking!”

“Okay!” exclaimed McKinley. “Let’s find the commander.”

With that the three of them, McKinley, Praggin and Derglabin (and Derglabin’s hovering lab cart thing), moved on towards what they thought was Justice’s position. What was actually at the end of the trail they had no way of knowing.