Executive Officer Malik Rosen emerged from his beached lifepod as a steely gray dawn broke across Ryujin’s restless waves. Like a shy lover, the sun peeked hesitantly over the horizon while its bright rays explored the water world beneath it. The caress of morning sunshine stripped away the last vestiges of twilight gloom. Within moments the planet had been drawn into the warm, greedy embrace of another day.
Malik allowed himself a half dozen heartbeats to enjoy the sight of the world while it was painted with the vibrant palette of a rising sun. He wondered as he hopped down from the pod’s open hatch if any of his crew were also watching the beautiful sunrise. The thought had the corner of his lips tugging up in a lopsided smile.
Catherine should be kicking Jackson’s bunk right about now. Tim had a habit of bucking protocol and spitting in the face of routine before we had to abandon ship. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to keep him focused now. Cat’s probably pulling her blond hair out by the fistful.
The mental image drew an amused snort from him while he began rechecking his gear. His rifle was slung over his shoulder with a full magazine locked and loaded. He was ready to unleash hell on any coatls or carbuncles he came across, but only if the situation mandated it. With only five magazines of ammo remaining for the EM rifle, he would have to pick and choose his engagements and make sure every shot counted.
His pistol ammunition was even more depleted. Twenty-two shots, spread across two magazines, were all that separated a functioning weapon from a misshapen chunk of tritanium. Two days ago he would have said he could hold off a small army with twenty-two shots. His encounter with the carbuncle yesterday had disabused him of such a notion. Out here, in the wild, some predators’s evolutionary gifts could rival the ones humans gained through their advanced technology.
The rest of the pockets on his utility belt were filled with items from his survival kit. A steel canteen was strapped onto the belt on his left side, opposite the pistol’s holster. The vibroblade, fully charged, hung in a sheath that pressed against the small of his back. Three of his last ration bars were safely tucked into one pouch. Another pocket held a fire stryker just in case he needed to make camp after nightfall.
Malik didn’t think that the trip would take more than a day. He’d checked the transponder’s signal numerous times since they’d arrived at the island. Each time the signal originated five kilometers south/southeast of his location. He planned to follow the coast south for as far as he could and then cut inland to avoid any potential problems the forest could throw at him.
Like carbuncles.
Burning daylight, Malik thought with a deep sigh. He checked his gear one last time before striking off toward his dozing partner.
“Don’t get up on my account, buddy,” Malik murmured as he came to a stop beside the massive alligator sprawled out across the white sand. Oscar had taken to sleeping on the beach a stone’s throw away from Mal’s life pod. “I’m headed down the coast today, but I should be back before nightfall. Hopefully.”
One of Oscar’s amber eyes opened lethargically while Malik spoke.
Mal tried to not let his feelings get hurt by the dismissive huff that sent a blast of white sand blowing through the air.
“Anyway, I’ll be back soon.” Mal lifted a hand to pat Oscar’s side. Then he thought better of it and turned the motion into an awkward wave.
Sometimes it was better to let sleeping giants lie.
*****
Alone, Malik marched down the coastline for hours with nothing to keep him company except the muted roar of the surf and the increasingly irritating sound of his voice. He’d kept a steady pace throughout the morning, but he could feel himself beginning to tire. Even at its most rigorous, life aboard Starlight Journey had never been physically challenging. Mal was learning the hard way that being in shape on a spaceship was not the same as being in shape on the ground.
“Gravity,” Malik muttered darkly as he took a long pull off his canteen. “What an asshole.”
His lips twisted in wry amusement as he fastened the metal flask back to his belt. As he was snapping it into place, his blue eyes idly scanned the treeline. The thick undergrowth that formed a barrier between the beach and the island’s interior appeared to be composed of the same vines and yellow fronds that he’d come across on his first day on the island. An occasional Gloam tree rose from the brush like a black spike driven into the meandering vegetation.
Mal didn’t come across anything unexpected until he found himself staring at a suspicious five-meter stretch of the treeline that was only lightly covered in grass and fronds.
“Oh, come on,” Mal audibly groaned as his reluctant steps carried him to the edge of the beach. Feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, Mal waded into the underbrush and tapped the toe of his boot against the ground.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled as he felt solid stone beneath his feet.
Hands-on his hips, Malik frowned at the stretch of lightly wooded area in front of him the way a parent might look at a misbehaving child.
This is not the objective for today. I don’t have time to take the scenic route. On the other hand, if there is an actual network of roads crisscrossing the island it could make passing through the forest much more manageable.
On a whim, Mal took out his compass. He spent a few moments adjusting the interface to gauge the distance between his location and the drone’s transponder. Once he was satisfied he returned it to its pouch.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The thunderous scowl written across his tanned features never softened.
I’m going to have to cut inland soon. If I’m going to have to cross into the forest, I may as well follow the path for as long as I can. At the least, if it starts carrying me away from the drone I can just head south and leave it behind.
Knowing that he’d made the logical decision was cold comfort when he found himself passing beneath the shadows of the towering Gloam trees again. Out on the open water he’d been able to trick himself into believing that this planet wasn’t so different from Mars after the terraforming. Sure, there was more water and some of the animals looked like they’d crawled out of Earth’s Jurassic era, but he could still see familiarity if he squinted hard enough.
Walking through the forest was nothing like that.
Out here beneath the sinister black trees, there was no mistaking this world for anything other than alien. Every time he saw a frond shaking in the wind he expected a carbuncle attack. Whenever he felt the itchy feeling of an insect crawling on his neck he thought of the Gloam tree's vines sliding around his throat like a noose. As he walked through the forest, clearing just enough of the stone road to blaze a trail forward, Malik no longer felt like the brave explorer he’d been when he and Oscar had been alone upon the high seas.
Here he was no explorer. In this primeval forest, he was nothing more than an invader.
His hand never strayed far from his pistol as he worked his way down the red stone path, vibroblade swinging like a tired farmer reaping the last few stalks of autumn wheat. Deeper and deeper into the forest he went, delving far enough into the interior of the forest that the light grew diffused in its struggle to pierce the canopy. Malik began to check his compass every few minutes, intentionally slowing his progress while he sought an excuse to abandon the path that grew more unnerving by the step. Malik sullenly returned the compass to its pouch each time the traitorous data slate refused to tell him what he wanted to hear. Soon, the presence of another sound began to distract his thoughts away from the compass and his wayward drone.
It was hard to say when he first heard the distant roar of running water. With the vibrant insect life all around, there was no such thing as silence this deep into the alien jungle. Soon the sound of water crashing over rocks was unmistakable and Malik quickened his pace up the sloped path in the hopes of finding the nearby river.
The thunderous sound of raging water was so loud that he knew he would find the river over the next rise.
What he hadn’t expected to find was a small village worth of buildings fashioned from porous red stone.
The path he’d been following flared out, easily tripling in width as it spread to encompass the smattering of single-room dwellings that stood in silent repose. The jungle closed in on all sides, grass, and fronds leading the charge to reclaim the land while the thick black roots of Gloam trees encroached upon the very edges of the stone path. Shafts of sunlight slashed through the thick canopy overhead, illuminating the cluster of buildings in solemn beams of light that gave the scene of ruinous disrepair a timeless quality.
For there could be no doubt that this was a scene of ruin. Of the dozen buildings huddled together like abandoned puppies, half had collapsed roofs. Among the remaining stone huts, at least four had walls that had crumbled beneath the unceasing assault of the elements. There were only two buildings that appeared to be intact. Two buildings and a large, open-air structure on the other side of the river.
Malik unshouldered his EM rifle and thumbed the capacitors active before he took one step into the ghost town. His blue eyes were already scanning for unwelcome surprises when he clicked the safety off. Weapons hot, he began to work his way down the path toward the river and the strange stone pavilion on the far shore.
He took his time. The path was less overgrown here, letting him focus on scanning the oppressive environment for surprises. Mal was absolutely convinced that, at any second, a carbuncle was going to leap from a broken-down building. Contrary to his expectations, he managed to make it to the edge of the river without incident.
The fast-moving water churned past four large chunks of stone that looked to have been a bridge in the distant past. Mal eyed the flat chunks critically, mentally measuring the distance between each one. A tired sigh slipped from his lips as he turned back, to scan the village one last time.
If I were going to ambush some idiot, overconfident human, I’d do it while they tried to cross the river. There’s no way they could resist hopping across the stones. Because they’re idiots.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he hopped onto the first slab of the shattered bridge.
Four jumps later Malik landed on the opposite shore.
“Great,” he mumbled sourly as he moved deeper into the pavilion with cautious steps. “That just means when I finally get ambushed, it's going to be an even worse situation.”
Perhaps it was due to his Martian upbringing, but Malik’s first impression of the open-air chamber had been that it must be a place of worship. Now, standing beneath a domed roof that had more holes than roof, Mal was no longer so certain of its purpose. Six black benches were arranged in three rows that stretched from one side of the chamber to the other. Each stood at knee height and appeared to be made out of dark stone. As he drew closer, Malik recognized the benches’ imperfections as being the blackened remnants of insect wings and beetle carapaces.
“Damn. You lot were braver than I am,” Mal said as he reached out to touch the bench that he now knew was fashioned from a Gloam tree. When his fingers passed over the slick, almost oily surface he recoiled in disgust.
I think I hate this place. Malik scowled down at the bench even as he reached down for another experimental touch. This time he brushed some of the dust and debris away from its surface. With each pass of Malik’s fingers, his scowl deepened until he shouldered his rifle and began to furiously swipe at the bench to clear away the ancient detritus obscuring its surface.
Scrawled out across the Gloam logs were a series of white pictographs. The first showed a simple mountain with a flat top surrounded by a representation of water that every child would recognize. As Mal moved down the bench, wiping away the dirt as he went, the mountain’s summit became occupied with stick figures that had tails and rounded ears. The roughly carved sketch depicted the figures dancing around a roaring fire. Next, clouds were suddenly hanging over the mountain, dumping rain into the ocean that rose around it.
Lost in the gravity of the moment, Malik didn’t hear his gasp as he swiped away the next scene. A new stick figure, this one covered with wavy lines that reminded him of an octopus’ tentacles, climbed the mountain to where the round-eared creatures had lived since the beginning.
Racing down the logs now, furiously wiping away the accumulated muck, Mal revealed a scene where the tentacled creatures were prodding the dancers to make them descend the side of the mountain.
In the last scene, the people who’d been forced from their homes were disappearing into a boxy city somewhere below the waves.
Stunned, Malik reeled back from the last image. He struggled to truly process what he’d seen aside from his immediate desires. He needed to find his people. He needed to warn them.
Because something was living in the watery depths at the bottom of the sea. Something powerful.
And it has a taste for conquest.