Outpost

  “Yeah,” Trish agreed. “But come on, people. Let’s face reality. No one has ever walked out of the forest alive.”

  “I know.” Yvette pulled at her chin. “Meanwhile, leave Wirth alone, Trish. It’s bad enough that we’ve lost Talina. Don’t want to lose you, too.”

  “People keep telling me that.”

  Outside thunder crashed as if the sky were rent.

  40

  Chopping down the pod was one thing. Getting it through the thick vegetation to the ground was another. Splitting it in two with knives had been a challenge of still greater difficulty. Then had come the task of cutting out the little seedlings inside—though the term wasn’t quite right. No one had seen a true seed produced by a plant on Donovan. Instead “seedlings” grew in pods as tiny replicas of the parent plant. When they had matured enough to be viable, the pods opened and the seedlings dropped out. Landing on the ground, they first sought nutrition with their roots, and once nourished, began moving slowly and surely in search of the perfect spot to send down roots. Plants often moved kilometers over their lifespan.

  “Makes you wish for a machete, doesn’t it?” Cap had asked as he wiped sweat from his brow.

  “I’ll put that on the requisition list before Turalon spaces for home. Might actually get one in the next fifty years or so.”

  Nevertheless they had finally cut, sawed, hacked, and chopped a hole through the thick wall of vines that allowed them access to the water.

  Only at that juncture did Talina discover that quetzals were afraid of water. “Can’t swim, huh?” she’d asked the beast residing within her.

  “Hell, are you kidding?” Cap had shot back. “I can swim fine, thanks.”

  “Talking to the quetzal,” she told him. “It won’t . . . I mean . . . The thing’s just . . . It’s not going to let me get on the water.”

  Cap glanced down at the half pod—a canoe-shaped vegetable husk about four meters in length. Then he chewed his lips as he inspected the passage they’d cut down to the sandy beach. Beyond it, the river ran placid in the midday light, surface sucking and swirling. The “canoe” lay half in, half on the bank. Behind them, the vegetation was closing in on their hole.

  When Cap glanced back, his eyes widened. “Holy shit, Tal. Look! Mobbers!”

  As she turned, expecting to see the flying, multicolored monsters, Cap whipped his coat around her head and shoulders, and she was plucked, kicking and screaming, from the ground.

  Arms pinioned, she felt herself lifted, spun around, and set down in the confines of the canoe. The man’s strength wasn’t up for debate. His grip on her was like a vise.

  “Hold still!” he bellowed. “You tip us over, and that quetzal is going to get more water than it ever bargained on.”

  “Stop it!” she hissed to the beast inside. “You’ll kill us all!”

  Inside, the quetzal curled itself into a tight ball, literally trembling in the darkness. A numbing fear ran though her in waves, sending the shakes down her arms. Tears formed behind her eyes, the dark wrapping of the coat around her like a suffocating barrier to sanity.

  She felt the canoe bobbing, rocking from side to side. “Holy shit, we’re on the water.”

  “Yep.” Cap’s grip slacked off. “Just hold still.”

  Down inside, the quetzal gave off a peculiar whistling shriek. Its panic paralyzed her; she almost cried out in terror.

  “Serves you right,” Talina told it as she somehow managed to pull Cap’s jacket off of her head with trembling hands. It smelled of sweat and man: acrid, but not all that unpleasant. She kept her balance, raising herself to stare out at the smooth surface. Half of her wanted to cower down into the narrow craft’s bottom.

  She made a face and forced the impulse down. By dint of will she sat up, placing her hands on the gunwales.

  “You. Don’t. Own. Me,” she told the quetzal through gritted teeth. Inside the beast continued to shriek in terror.

  The tree line ran right to the water, whatever hole they’d emerged from now vanished.

  Cap was grinning, which accented the dimple in his chin, his blue eyes alight with the success of his audacious move. “Of course I don’t own you.”

  “I was talking to the damned quetzal.” She shook her head. “God, it’s like having a separate part of me inside. One I can’t quite control.”

  “So, what’s it doing now?”

  “It’s terrified. Sort of like something shivering in fear halfway between my heart and my stomach.” She made a face. “Damn, does that sound fucked up, or what?”

  She took a deep breath, willing the beast inside her to be still. For once, it actually complied.

  “Don’t ask me,” Cap said, picking up one of the dried branches they’d collected for paddles. With a couple of strokes he sent them headlong into the current, turning them downriver. “Funny world you’ve got here, Tal.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve got the stinking beast under control, but don’t tip us over. If it goes berserk and panics, I’m not sure I can keep it together.”

  “You mean it’s like alive? You’re saying it’s like that creature in that ancient movie? The one that eats its way out of your chest?”

  “No. More like the quetzal’s essence. Like I’m sharing its thoughts.”

  He was silent for a time after that. Then he chuckled. “You’re a hell of a woman, Tal. I’ll say that for you.”

  “Not so bad a man yourself, Cap. Glad I didn’t have to kill you back at Port Authority.”

  “Makes two of us.” A pause. “So, tell me. Now that we’re out of the forest, away from the mobbers, sidewinders, and all those other crawly things, is the worst of it past?”

  She shrugged, still fighting to keep the quetzal quiet. “Haven’t a clue, Cap. No one’s ever floated this river in a pod before. No telling what sort of nasty beasties live down in the depths here.”

  She pointed at the swelling and roiling surface. “My guess is that if we just float along for the most part, we’ll look just like another piece of drifting log. Like that chunk of aquajade bobbing over there.”

  He immediately changed the way he was paddling. Rather than driving them forcefully ahead, he carefully pulled the paddle back. Then he let it drag until they started to lose steerage before taking another easy stroke.

  “Where’d you learn to canoe?”

  “Grew up in a place called Minnesota back on Earth. Lots of lakes and streams. My father was a fisherman in his leisure time. Took me with him. Probably what steered me toward the military instead of Corporate law like he wanted.” He paused. “You?”

  “I grew up in a Mexican state called Chiapas until I was ten. From the time I was little, Mama told me to find something better. That I was worth more. She was a Mayan archaeologist, led tours through the ruins. I could have followed in her footsteps. That, or I was going to end up married, have my allotment of children chosen based on my DNA and his, and I could have grown corn for the rest of my life.”

  “How’d you get out?”

  “Had an uncle who’d been trained in the military. Chiapas has always had a culture of resistance. Goes clear back to when my ancestors fought the Spanish. He taught me enough of the basics so that I showed promise on the aptitude tests. Security came naturally since I grew up helping to protect the archaeological sites from looting.”

  “Ever married?”

  “Nope.” She hesitated. “Would have married Mitch, though.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dead of an infection.” She saw the dirt again as it cascaded down into the grave to cover his wrapped face.

  “Sorry.”

  “You?” She tilted her head back, scenting the river, trying to know its smells and soul. The quetzal quailed inside her.

  “Yep. Didn’t work. Military,” he said as if it explained it all. “Career comes first. Postin
gs change. Relationships come and go. Then I had that bad experience at Beemer Station. Civilians dead. Creamer skated. And I got assigned to Turalon.”

  “What are you going to do if we make it back alive?”

  Another silence, and then he said, “Been thinking about that, Tal. If we make it back? There’s a woman I’d like to spend some time with. See if I could get to know her.” He smacked his lips. “Might be tough, though. She’s sort of out of reach.”

  “Who? The Supervisor?”

  “Kalico? Hardly. No, this one’s a security officer at Port Authority. We’ve got a past, her and me. I thought for a while I was going to have to shoot her. Then she saved my life a couple hundred times, and I saved her a few times, myself.”

  “Me?” she asked, almost laughing at the absurdity of it.

  “Yeah, you,” he said, still keeping the sincerity in his voice. “Which is probably a surprise to us both, and I’m not sure how it happened.”

  Talina kept a hand to her knotted stomach as she swiveled to look him in the eyes. “What could you possibly see in me?”

  “Courage, skill, self-control, remarkable accomplishments, a sense of duty, the respect of just about everyone on this planet, and one of the few women I’ve ever met who leaves me in complete awe. I’d like nothing better than just to look at you. At your hair, stare at those dark eyes, marvel at the tones in your skin.” A beat. “And you do have a quetzal inside you. I’m not sure, but that might end up being sexy as hell.”

  “You don’t want my kind of trouble. I’m not good at relationships.”

  “Like I said, she’s a bit out of my reach.” He laughed softly. “Problem is, I look around and wonder what man on this whole terrifying planet can stand toe-to-toe with her. Look her in the eyes as an equal. My bet is that she intimidates the hell out every male on this ball of rock.”

  “You’d be surprised, Cap. There are men, Wild Ones, who I don’t intimidate in the slightest.”

  “Yeah? Well, the only thing I’ve got going for me is that those guys—the ones you really respect—they all started as soft meat once upon a time. Sort of like me. Now, I’m a little behind the curve here, but I’m catching up. Compared to the guy who crawled into that aircar, I’ve come a hell of a long way. Watched everything you’ve done, studied at staying alive harder than I’ve ever studied anything.”

  She considered that. Fact was, he’d been damned near perfect. Now that he brought it up, she had to admit, she couldn’t have conceived of a better traveling companion. And somewhere in that time, she had begun to look at him as a companion. But as a lover?

  “I have problems with men and relationships, Cap. I don’t know what they want from me.”

  “What was it about Mitch?”

  “He and I just fit together. Kind of like he was part of me that had always been missing. Said it was the same for him. Hard to explain, but we shared thoughts . . . just fit.”

  “Gotcha.” He stroked them forward again. “See, that’s the thing causing me to lose sleep at night. A big part of me doesn’t want this trip to end. Not that I enjoy having the ever-loving shit scared out of me every half hour or so, but I spend the other twenty-nine minutes totally, thoroughly, and absolutely enjoying your company.”

  “You’re a sick and twisted man, Cap.”

  “So, just for the record, Tal, how am I doing? Do I have any redeeming factors that might make me tolerable enough that you’d consider spending time with me in other circumstances than this?”

  “Honestly, Cap, my friends are few and damned far between. There’s Trish, Shig, Yvette, Cheng, Iji, Inga . . .” She let him hang for a couple of seconds. “ . . . and you.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “I can live with that.”

  “But you understand, you’re a new part of the equation.” She swiveled her head to look him in the eyes. “I’ve got a lot of history with the others.”

  He gave her a knowing smile. “Sure you do. Course, think back for the last week or so. Seems we’ve been making our own history right along. Provided we live through it, we’re gonna be making a heap more before we’re out of this.” Again the dimple-accenting smile. “Or else I’m just an optimist at heart.”

  She turned forward again. “You are that, Cap. But what happens if we get back? You thought that through? You’re going to be Kalico’s marine captain. The Corporation’s hired gun. Kalico might give you orders to arrest me, maybe even shoot me in the back. How are you going to balance this newfound attraction against your duty?”

  “All right,” he admitted, “that part’s got me a little perplexed.”

  She turned her attention to the shoreline, watching the wall of trees pass as the current carried them. She was getting the hang of the canoe, how to move without making it pitch wildly.

  “You know,” he said softly, “we don’t have to go back.”

  But down in her heart she knew they did. Supervisor Aguila wasn’t done with her, Shig, and Yvette. That woman wasn’t about to forgive and forget.

  She shot an uneasy look up at the sky. Turalon was still up there. Cap might be enamored of her, but what happened when it really came down to the knife’s edge? Which way would it cut?

  41

  Freelander floated no more than a kilometer away. Bathed in Turalon’s floodlights, she stood out against the background of a billion stars that looked like a smear of smoke over the velvet black of space. The two thick rings that composed the crew and cargo sections were still counter-rotating. Like awkward donuts, they perched atop the bulky gray sphere containing the reactor and inversion generators.

  The way the retractable pods containing the nuclear motors were deployed for propulsion brought bug legs to mind, and attitude thrusters maintained the great ship’s position vis-à-vis Turalon. This was all remotely piloted through Nandi’s com in astrogation.

  Kalico leaned forward, studying the ship through the windows as her shuttle approached. Freelander’s massive hull looked pristine. No scorch marks, not a sign of impacts, decompression, or mishap.

  “See anything wrong?” she asked Abibi, who sat in the pilot’s seat.

  “Not on the surface,” Abibi told her. “She was the biggest of the Donovan carriers. Turalon is half her size. As to why they built her so big, well, Supervisor, you’d know more about that than I would.”

  “At the time she was conceived and approved, she was to be the first of a series of large deep-space haulers. The vessel that would finally make Donovan profitable and stem the hemorrhage of cash and resources The Corporation was pouring into the project. Keep in mind, back when we started construction on her, no one had any idea how bad the situation was.”

  Abibi said nothing as she slowed her approach. Freelander had grown to fill the view. Now Abibi began a slow circle of the big vessel. As they rounded the far side, Kalico could still see nothing wrong.

  “One of the shuttles is missing,” Chan noted from the passenger seat. “That bay there, coming into view. That doesn’t make any sense. Where would they have gone?”

  “Wasn’t in the log,” Kalico replied as she followed the first officer’s pointing finger to the empty docking bay just below the zero-g spindle.

  “Well,” Abibi noted as she changed her approach, “that solves one problem. That’s where we’ll dock. Assuming the locks and hatches are still functional.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be?” First Officer Chan asked. “There’s no sign of damage.”

  Kalico could see the tension in his shoulders.

  “A shuttle is missing?” Abibi mused. “If they’d disembarked in the Donovan system, we’d be reading their signal. If they’d disembarked back in Solar System, it would have been in the logs. Shit on a shoe, I don’t like this.”

  Kalico nodded to herself as she stared at the looming hull where the shuttle bay lay so eerily empty. People didn’t just leave a ship when
it was in inverted symmetry. No one ever had. According to the physicists, there was no “place,” no “space,” to go to. Despite the decades of hypotheses testing and experimentation, all the potential theories had collapsed. How could theorists even postulate a universe where mathematics—at least as humans conceived them—didn’t exist?

  Over the years, probes had been sent past the inversion. Countless probes. Of all kinds and designs. Once they passed beyond the inversion horizon, they vanished. Tethers had been tried. When they were reeled back, they ended in a smooth molecular surface where the tether had breached the field.

  “And we’re sure they didn’t pop into regular space somewhere along the way?” Willa Tyler, the ship’s physician, asked from her seat behind Kalico’s.

  “If they had popped into regular space, as you so quaintly put it, the logs would have mentioned it. They do it automatically, recording everything for subsequent analysis.”

  “Then why didn’t we have a record of any shuttle leaving Freelander?” Tyler persisted.

  Abibi’s expression didn’t change as she maneuvered into the shuttle bay. “Lots of gaps in the records, Willa. It’s like a mix of chaos and insanity to read them.”

  Kalico fixed on the hull just beyond the window as Abibi eased the shuttle into the bay and set it down atop the locking lugs.

  She felt the familiar bump through her seat, heard the thump and clank as the latches secured the shuttle into Freelander’s bay. The lights began to flicker at the hatch, changing from red, to yellow, to green.

  “Freelander’s lock is functional,” Chan noted as he powered down the systems. “But it’s using the shuttle’s power to cycle the system.” He glanced uneasily at Abibi. “It’s dead on the other side.”

  Abibi was sucking on her lips. A nervous trait she’d rarely exhibited over the entire two years of Turalon’s spacing to Donovan.

  Kalico rubbed her forehead. “No telling what’s on the other side of that hatch. We’re going in suited. Combat and hazard protocol.”