For a second, Malik stood there, still as stone, while he tried to parse what his eyes were seeing.
The steel hull of the small gravskiff gleamed like polished chrome in the early afternoon sun. Quick and efficient, the onboard reactionless drives had made gravskiffs a transportation mainstay for the past hundred years. Intended to be used for reconnaissance purposes, the two-man craft was part of the infrastructure loadout allocated to each of the habitation modules that Starlight Journey had ferried across the cosmos. Each module had initially been packed with three skiffs, though the modules’ manufactorium could easily produce more once the industrial plant was brought online.
The skiff he was looking at had to be part of a module’s original loadout. There simply hadn’t been enough time for the colonists to bring their industrial capabilities up to speed yet. Which meant he was looking at a survey crew. In theory.
In practice, the trio did not look like an operations unit. At this distance, it was impossible to make out too many details, but he was virtually positive that one of the three was smaller than the others. Child-sized, in fact. Regulation stipulated 3% of each module’s population be children under the age of thirteen. The young, especially in the early months and years, would be jealously guarded. They’d virtually grow up under lock and key until the dangers of the planet had been identified and accounted for.
They certainly wouldn’t be allowed to take part in a recon mission.
Malik’s ivory teeth worried at his lower lip while he internally weighed his options. A part of him wanted to rush down the slope as fast as his feet could carry him. There were people down there. Humans, he could actually talk to. Yet, starved as he was for human contact, he couldn’t bring himself to barrel headlong into a situation he didn’t understand.
But he wanted to.
While he was agonizing over how to approach the island’s new arrivals, he caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. In a single fluid motion, like a dancer swaying through the well-practiced steps of a ballet, Malik drew his pistol and pivoted on one heel to spin toward the fleeting movement. The muzzle of his gun came up even as his knee dropped down. In the blink of an eye the sound of the pistol’s capacitor filled the air with an ominous hum while Mal knelt, pistol in one hand, harpoon in the other.
Sighting down the length of the gun’s barrel, Malik had a perfect shot into the face of a wounded carbuncle that limped into the clearing. The creature had stopped at Mal’s sudden movement, tilting its head to the side in an inquisitive expression that, apparently, was common among cats and their ilk the universe over.
“Goddamnit, Fred,” Malik swore as he thumbed off the pistol’s capacitor to silence its low drone that sounded like a hive of angry wasps. “Don’t sneak up behind me like that. Are you trying to get shot?”
One of the carbuncle’s long ears raised to half-mast while Malik berated it. Once the human had said his piece, Fred’s ear wilted from lack of interest. Seconds later, the fuzzy green predator was slowly wandering across the clearing, occasionally bending its head to sniff at a particularly fascinating patch of grass.
“I don’t care what Oscar called you. You need to go back to the beach. I’m busy.” Exasperation stained Malik’s tone like grass on white socks. “Fine. Do whatever you want, but following me around is not an acceptable way to spend your day.”
Fred seemed to be far more interested in the dilapidated metal shack by the tunnel entrance than it was in whatever the human had to say. The carbuncle walked three slow circuits around the rusting metal while Malik spoke, dutifully sniffing as it went. Only after it made its third revolution around the base of the building did it pointedly glance toward the human. Looking Malik right in the eye, Fred lifted two of its six legs and marked its new territory.
Mal’s jaw dropped at the smug expression written across Fred’s face. Malik looked on in mild horror as a sound like rain striking a sheet of tin echoed across the small clearing.
This is why I need to find people.
Malik introduced the unrepentant carbuncle to the one-fingered salute before he began his trek toward the bay and the mysterious trio that waited there.
*****
Malik was crouched next to a Gloam tree with a frown on his lips and a hard, flinty cast to his clear blue eyes. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d arrived at the edge of the beach. In that time, the former XO had tried to glean as much information as he could about these uninvited guests.
The bits and pieces he’d picked up did not paint the trio in a flattering light.
The trio of colonists consisted of a middle aged man, a woman of roughly the same age, and a young child. They’d arranged themselves around a shallow pit they’d dug into the sand halfway between the edge of the jungle and the wet sand where the surf lapped against the beach. Metal cases were arranged haphazardly around their firepit, as if they’d been unpacked from the skiff only to be cast aside like a child would discard a toy they’d grown bored with.
The actual child of the group stayed huddled up against the woman the entire time Malik watched. Still too far away to make out words of the conversation they shared, he could only guess at their conversation by the man’s animated gestures. Whatever words they exchanged, the woman’s body language gave him the impression of a rabbit flinching away from an angry bear.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Malik briefly considered waiting till nightfall to approach. He was worried that there could be other members of their party stomping through the jungle. Their return could have dire repercussions for him if the group turned out to be hostile. In the end, he chose to address the potentially split group, deciding it was better to approach a group of three than one of four or more.
I can’t believe that I’ve finally found people and I’m approaching it like they’re some kind of criminal cartel. I can hear Doc Lisell telling me about PTSD and how it’s impacting my decision-making. If she only knew. Approaching a group of potentially armed and hostile colonists wouldn’t even make the top three worst decisions I’ve made since I got here. Thank you for that, Ryujin.
A self-deprecating smile slashed its way across his face as he rose to his feet. While he took a moment to stretch his stiff legs, he hefted the blue harpoon to study it with a critical eye. It was, by far, the least deadly weapon in his current arsenal. But that didn’t mean openly brandishing the spear would put the colonists at ease with his presence. Besides that, it could open him up to a line of questioning that he wasn’t prepared to answer. Mal eventually decided to stash the spear on the ground, loosely covered by a pair of broad fronds. A quick slice of his vibroblade scored the Gloam tree so he had a marker to indicate where he’d buried the treasure.
As prepared as he could be, Malik walked onto the beach.
The child was the first one to see him. He, like the two adults, wore a skinsuit dyed in the green shades reserved for colonists. Growing closer by the step, Mal would guess the young boy to be older than five but younger than ten. He had a mop of unruly blond hair that swayed in the breeze when he looked up and began tugging desperately on the woman’s arm. The moment he got her attention, she shot to her feet and pulled the boy behind her.
The woman’s short blond ponytail waved in agitation as she shouted, “Who are you?!”
Malik had just enough time to lift his hands in a sign of surrender before the man jumped to his feet and spun toward him. He was, Mal was happy to note, unarmed.
“You took the words right out of my mouth, ma’am.” Malik kept his voice casual as he continued his slow approach. “My name is Malik Rosen. I was the Executive Officer of Starlight Journey’s second crew. Who might you be?”
“So this is all your fault,” the dark-haired man said with a snarl as he crossed his arms against his broad chest. Mal was close enough now that he could tell the man was both taller and broader than he was. He could also see the apprehensive way the stranger’s eyes flickered across Mal’s rifle. “You were supposed to get us to a planet we could build a life on. Instead, we got this.” The man punctuated his words with a curt gesture out toward the open sea.
“Believe me, this isn’t what I had in mind when we launched.” Malik came to a stop, far enough away to appear non-threatening, but close enough to have a civilized conversation. “Let’s put all that on the shelf for now. As I said, I’m Malik. And you are?”
“Brittany,” the woman said in a light, timid tone. Now that Malik was closer, he could see the dark circles under her eyes and the harried lines that etched a face that was beginning to show the first signs of sunburn. “My name is Brittany Powell. And this is my son, Devin.” Brittany nudged the young child but instead of following her urging, he slipped even further behind her until he was peeking around her hip like a wary deer watching a mountain lion.
“I’m Caleb,” the big, dark-haired man said, his voice holding the gruff burr of a person who was accustomed to holding the reins of control. “Is there anyone else with you out there, Malik? How did you find us?”
“I was surveying that mountain,” Malik said, half turning to motion toward the steep slope, “when I caught sight of the gravskiff.” Ignoring Caleb’s other question, Malik turned his gaze toward Brittany. “How did you all end up here?”
The woman visibly flinched, lowering her eyes toward the white sand. Caleb smoothly stepped between the two, firmly establishing his role as the mouthpiece of the group. “Look, we’re part of Hab4. We were part of Hab4, that is. In the past week, everything went to shit, so we got out as soon as we could.”
Mal kept his expression as neutral as he could, but he couldn’t stop the way his jaw clenched. Choosing to remain silent, he gave Caleb an encouraging nod. The other man smiled with the oily confidence of a snake slithering into an undefended nest.
“When we first woke up,” Caleb continued, “everything seemed to be going fine. The Hab had set itself down on an island about like this one. Same creepy black trees and everything. We started doing all that organization shit. Electing officials, starting up schools, putting together the manufactorium. You know the drill. That worked for about a week, then the people we were sending out on recon started to vanish.”
Caleb turned his back then and made a curt gesture to one of the metal crates. “Sit your scrawny ass down, Britt. We’re going to be here awhile.” So saying, the big man collapsed onto one of the crates himself. He then lifted a big paw to invite the XO into an empty seat. Malik declined with a shake of his head. Caleb shrugged his broad shoulders and continued his story.
“The first time it was just one team. Then, the next day, it was all of’em. Women missing their husbands. Kids missing their parents. In two days we lost almost a hundred people. They just vanished into thin air.” Caleb fished a ratio bar out of a pocket on his skinsuit and peeled off the wrapper. “So the next day we sent out search parties Two hundred people. Maybe three. None of’em came back. That’s when things got out of control.”
“We locked the Hab down, but that only made things worse. People had just woken up after decades of stasis and they suddenly had members of their family ripped from their lives. Nobody had any answers and everybody wanted someone to pay.” Caleb bit off a chunk of the ration bar and happily crunched away, completely unfazed by the impatience gleaming in Malik’s blue eyes.
“When folks started to disappear from inside the Hab, all hell broke loose. The Hab had already lost one of its skiffs so I knew if I didn’t move fast, I might not be able to move at all. I knew Britt was a skiff pilot and worried about little Devin over there. So I grabbed her up, fought our way to the skiff, and off we went. Anywhere would have been better than the Hab.”
“We didn’t have a choice,” Brittany said, her first words since the introduction were fiercely defensive. “I watched the man we elected as the Constable gun down two people in the street on suspicion of murder. I had to get Devin out.” Her voice grew more subdued as she pulled Devin into a tight embrace. “I’m worried about whatever is out here hunting us, but the other colonists terrified me.”
The big man flashed Mal a wolfish grin. “And we’ve got you and your crew to thank for it, Executive Officer Malik Rosen. It all fell apart because there’s something dangerous on this ball of water.”
“And it doesn’t intend to share its planet.”