Excelsior (24 page)

“How big?”

“Hairy T-rex big.”

Alexander smiled. “You have an active imagination, Stone. Might be your conscience persecuting you for threatening to fire up your grill and start sampling the native cuisine.”

“Might be.”

Alexander’s smile faded. Stone usually had a good sense of humor, but he was being deadly serious. Whatever he’d seen had scared him. “Why didn’t you report what you saw?”

“I was about to, sir. You found me first.”

“Well, we already know that Wonderland is full of life, so it’s no surprise you saw something. Doesn’t mean it’s dangerous to us. Just keep an eye out and make sure nothing gets too close. But if it does, don’t shoot unless it’s making threatening moves, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I was going to ask you to take one of the shuttles with me and go look for Max and Ryder, but I guess we need you here. Anyone else who can go with me?”

“There’s Fernandez with Shuttle Four. I sent him back there to get some sleep a few hours ago. By now he should be more rested than anyone.”

Alexander nodded. “Sounds good.” He lingered a moment longer, eyeing the dark wall of trees, looking for signs of movement.

Nothing.

Alexander took comfort in that, and turned to walk back inside the protective circle of shuttles.

Chapter 21

Seth Ryder sat in the cockpit of Shuttle Two, watching as black alien waters raged by, separated by a thin glass barrier. Even with the shuttle’s landing lights activated, visibility was zero. Seth turned to glare at the shuttle’s other occupant.

“What?” Max asked sharply.

“It was your idea to leave the shuttle.”

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Actually I did. As part of the mission’s security team, I had to accompany you.”

“So you’re saying I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

Seth shrugged. “If the shitprint matches the shoe…”

“Funny. Rather than laying blame, we should be thinking of a way out of this.”

“Okay, sure, let’s do that. We’re trapped under an unknown quantity of water, pinned down by debris. We could go cycle the airlock and swim for the surface, but debris will probably kill us on the way up, or the current will sweep us under something heavy like it did with our shuttle. Even if we survive and manage to climb one of the trees, I wonder how alien vegetation that moves will react to climbers. Maybe they’ll squeeze the life out of us like a boa.” Seth shook his head. “No, we need to stay here. Wait until the water recedes, then we can climb out the airlock onto dry land. We’ll make our way back to the landing site and wait. They’ll be back to look for us as soon as the water subsides.”

Max nodded. “Fine.”

Something thunked off the cockpit canopy, and they both turned to look.

“How strong is that glass?” Max asked.

“Strong as it gets. That’s palladium glass. It would take one hell of an impact to break it.”

Thunk.

“Well, Wonderland is busy doing a stress test for us.”

BANG!

Seth sat up straight. “What the shit?”

“Everything’s about shit with you, isn’t it?”

“When I’m up to my neck in it, you bet.” Seth walked up to the canopy and ran a hand along it, looking for imperfections that his eyes couldn’t see, but it was all smooth…

A siren sounded and a warning flashed up on the Shuttle’s main display. There was a hull breach just aft of the cockpit, and… in the cockpit, too.

“What’s going on?” Max asked.

“Quiet!”

Seth listened. For a moment all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, but then he heard something else… a sharp hissing noise.

“We’ve sprung a leak,” Seth said, scanning the ceiling to find the leak. He didn’t see anything. Then he lowered his eyes and spotted a fine stream of mist in a corner beside the hatch.

“We need to go,” Max said.

Seth snorted. “Sure, and then we’ll be the ones springing leaks. No, we can patch this. It won’t take me long. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go check the cargo bay to see how bad the other leak is.”

“There’s another leak?”

“The patch kit can handle it. Just check it for me, would you?”

Max mumbled something under his breath as Seth went to get the patch kit from the cockpit’s emergency locker. Max waved the hatch open, and in came a rushing stream of water. Seth turned to look. The water filled the front half of the cockpit and covered his toes.

“I’m out of here,” Max said. “You can take your chances and stay here, but I’m not going to wait until we’re both pressed against the ceiling, fighting over the last bubble of air!”

Max snatched his helmet from the back of his chair and strode through the open hatch. Seth scowled after him. “Get back here!”

No answer.

Walking over to the hatch, he grabbed the guide rail to steady himself amidst the slick river of water still pouring into the cockpit. He took one look at the cargo bay and immediately realized why Max wasn’t listening. There were no less than a dozen high-pressure jets of water streaming from the walls and ceiling. The entire ship would be flooded in less than an hour at this rate.

But if they’d sprung that many leaks from debris hitting their shuttle, what would happen to an unarmored human in a pressure suit? They could just put their helmets back on and they’d survive, even if the shuttle flooded. They each had a few hours of air in their suits and spare oxygen tanks in the cockpit, but Seth had another idea.

The rear compartments could flood as much as they liked. The cockpit was separated by a bulkhead, and there was only one small leak there. “Max, get back here! The cockpit is still safe. We’ll seal ourselves in and wait it out.”

“You’re crazy!” Max called back from the rear airlock. “I’m not going to sit here and wait around to die!”

The inner airlock doors breezed open, and Max walked in. Seth wracked his brain trying to come up with a way to convince him to stay, but with water rushing past his ankles and stealing his remaining air, he didn’t have much time.

“Are you coming, or not?” Max asked from the open airlock.

Seth shook his head. “Good luck.” He shut the hatch and set to work patching the leak in the cockpit.

It didn’t work.

The patch was designed for space, where the positive pressure inside the shuttle would hold the patch against the hull until it stuck. With the shuttle underwater and greater pressure outside the hull pressing in against the patch, it refused to stick.

Seth tried holding it in place with his hand. That only half worked. Water still squirted out around the patch. He sat down to get better leverage, and noted with dismay that he was sitting in a puddle of water. Fortunately his pressure suit kept him dry—for now, anyway. He cast about for his helmet and found it high and dry where he’d left it, hanging from the back of the pilot’s chair. Sooner or later he was going to have to don that helmet and start using oxygen tanks. Hopefully the water would run back out to sea before he ran out of air.

Seth sat for a while, listening to debris thunking against the hull and water hissing in. He felt like the legendary Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke. Glancing over his shoulder to the cockpit hatch, he thought about Max and wondered if the plenipotentiary to the Alliance would fare any better.

Maybe he should have gone with. No, he decided, shaking his head. If he ran out of air, he could always follow Max and swim for the surface, but this way there was a chance he wouldn’t need to leave the safety of the shuttle. A rescue might come before the shuttle filled up completely with water.

This way he had options.

Seth’s arm began cramping, and he shifted positions to bring his other arm into play. He laid his head back against the hull and fatigue fell over him like a warm blanket. His eyelids felt heavy. He squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes open. If he fell asleep now, he’d drown in his sleep. Not to mention he wouldn’t be able to hold the patch in place and he’d run out of air a lot faster.

He could only hope the water subsided and a rescue came for him soon…

*

159 Days Ago - November 29, 2790

(Earth’s Frame of Reference)

It’s thanksgiving today, Alex, but there’s no turkey and no thanks to give. What do I have to be thankful for?

You’re not here.

It’s been almost a year already. That short? It feels longer. I know when you left you said you could be gone for ten years, but you were counting on me staying busy, building a life for us here while I waited for you to return. Instead I’m left picking up the pieces after World War III.

I’m still living here in the rescue workers’ camp, but there’s rumors that we might be leaving soon. I keep trying to imagine where we’ll go, and whether or not it will be any better. Then I try to imagine you there with me.

People look at me funny every time I talk about you. They’re laughing at me, Alex. They all think you’re dead. You need to come back and prove that I’m not crazy.

Oh, I do have some good news! I finally lost those five pounds I always said I would. Actually I lost fifteen, but who’s counting? There is some bad news, though. My hair is falling out. I’m not sure if it’s because we ran out of vitamin pills or because I only get to shower once a month. My head itches a lot, so it could be the shower thing. You should see your blushing bride now—hands callused, bruises and scars from digging through debris to find survivors. I’ve personally found and rescued over a hundred people already. At least that makes some of this worth it, but it’s not worth quite so much when you think about what you’re saving them for.

The camp is rife with every kind of crime you can imagine, and a lot of crimes you can’t. Tents are thin, so we hear it all. Most people here have a partner to keep them safe. The women all fight over the biggest scariest men to keep them safe, but sometimes I wonder if the price they pay is worth it—more than a few have been raped and/or murdered by their bedfellows. I don’t know how my tentmate, Rosa, got by before I came here. She was all alone. I keep trying to talk to her, but she’s all locked up inside behind those haunted brown eyes. I keep thinking maybe she went through something like that. The camps are not a good place for a young girl—a girl of any age, really.

A few people tried things with me, but that’s what my shiv is for—and David. He managed to move his tent next to mine. I know you wouldn’t like him, because he tried to kiss me. I don’t like that either, but please try to understand, Alex. He really thinks you’re dead, and he’s the only friend I have. I need a friend. He’s been looking after me.

A couple nights ago there was someone outside my tent, trying to get in. David got out and I heard some kind of fight. The next day he showed up at the busses with bruised knuckles. He told me the sound I heard was a raccoon and he hurt his hand with the crews, but you and I know better.

I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for leaving me here. Or maybe I am, a little, but I’m not angry with you anymore. Mostly I’m just sad. You promised to send me a message every day. I kept my end of the bargain. I even went back and filled in the gaps as best I could. What about you? I haven’t heard a thing Alex. I just need to know if you’re alive. I need to a reason to keep holding on.

Please message me soon. I love you. I can’t wait to see you and prove everyone wrong. You are alive. I know you are.

All my love,

Caty

Catalina put her pen and paper down. Her tears splashed on the page, making the ink run. She cursed under her breath and dabbed the page with her shirt. The damage was done, but at least her words were still legible. Caty folded the letter carefully, opened her rucksack, and tucked her latest journal entry in with the rest. The compartment was bursting with folded papers—over a hundred of them. Paper was hard to come by, but she’d managed to get it from the warden by trading him some of her rations. She would have recorded the messages on her comm band, but it was long ago out of power and there was no way to recharge it here.

Caty sighed. Someone scratched on the tent. It was the closest thing they had to a knock.

“Come in,” she said.

The zipper zzzed and the flap flopped open. David’s head popped through, his shaggy brown hair and beard made him look like a young Santa Claus.

“Hola bella,” he said, grinning at her with yellow teeth.

Caty smiled back. “I’m not beautiful,” she replied. “Not anymore.” She wiped away a tear with the back of one hand.

“¿Que paso?” he asked, his smile fading to a look of concern.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

David crawled inside the tent and regarded her with a frown. “You were writing to him again, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Caty…”

“We’re not doing this right now.”

“You have to stop. You’re torturing yourself.”

“Stop what? Believing that he could be alive? Or being sad that he’s not here with me?”