T'aafhal Legacy 1: Ghosts of Orion (29 page)

“What is it?” She yelled to her sister.

“I don't know. It seems to be a collection of black rods, sort of tumbling along the ground.”

Shadi hurried over to where her sister was standing, closer to the strange object.

“Funny, the sticks don't seem to actually touch each other,” Dorri commented, as Shadi drew near. “And there seems to be some kind of box or container in the middle of them.”

As they watched, the collection of sticks stopped rolling and the entire assemblage deformed, lifting the central box higher into the air. After standing in that position for almost a minute it shrank back down and rolled off in a different direction, parallel to the flock's path toward the hills. It swayed and tumbled up the hill at a speed faster than a walking pace.

“Do you think it's alive?” asked Dorri.

“I don't know, it sure doesn't look like any animal from back home. But it's traveling up hill against the wind so something is making it move. ”

“True. And it is keeping its distance from us and the sheep. You don't think it's dangerous, do you?” Concern crept into Dorri's voice for the first time since the odd apparition was sighted.

“I don't know. Wolves looking for strays might track a flock, moving in parallel with it.” For the first time since coming to this world, Shadi felt uneasy about being exposed far from the settlement. “Let's stay between it and the sheep, just in case.” 

“It's upwind but the sheep don't seem to notice it. If it was a predator you'd think they would react, wouldn't you?” 

“It doesn't look like any predator I've ever seen. But you are right, predators always try to stay downwind of their prey.” 

“What ever it is, it seems to be going away.” 

Sure enough, the strange collections of sticks was receding, moving away from the flock and its two shepherds. A few minutes later the enigmatic visitor rolled over the next rise and disappeared from sight. Shadi felt the little knot of fear that had formed in her stomach ease.

“Let's move the sheep off that direction, away from that thing's path. And keep an eye out for more of them, or for that one to come back.” 

“Sure,” Dorri agreed, still staring after the departed object. “Maybe this planet isn't as empty as they told us.” 

“Maybe indeed, little star. A planet is a big place, with a lot of places to hide. I don't care what they told us, I cannot believe they learned everything there is to know about this world in such a short time.” 

The sheep continued to placidly chew on the green shoots of grass while the sisters contemplated the meaning of what they had just witnessed. On the other side of the rise, the flexibot continued its survey. Having recognized the handful of creatures it discovered as Earth life, and therefore of little interest, the robot headed up slope toward the edge of the prairie grass. 

Armory, Peggy Sue

“So let me get this straight,” said Kato, “the alert yesterday was all because someone ejected a Science Lab module?”

“That's the scuttlebutt,” replied Jacobs.

The Marines and the two petty officers were in the armory working on their suits. The time they spent on the metal moon was time spent in vacuum, which was actually less stressful on their armor than trudging around through grit and grime on a planet's surface. Regardless, when your suit is often the only thing keeping you alive, you learn not to scrimp on preventative maintenance.

“More than that,” added Hitch, in a conspiratorial tone, “I heard from one of the snipes that Rogers, the climate guy from the science section, got himself killed by some contamination from the dead planet. The Chief saw the whole thing.”

“The Chief was the one who ejected the Lab Module, Stevie!” exclaimed Jacobs. 

“You are kidding, da?” asked Bosco, looking up from his partly disassembled railgun. 

“Hell no. That's why the Captain had the module vaporized by the X-ray laser battery.” 

“He did, indeed,” rumbled Umky. “I was the one who did the targeting. I didn't know that Dr. Rogers had died inside at the time, though.”

“What's the straight skinny on what happened to the science guy?” asked the Gunny. “I heard the Science Section types and the officers are the only ones who know what really happened in the Lab.”

“Yeah, Umky. What does your girl friend have to say about it?”

Umky gave Vinny a predatory look, but answered anyway. “According to Ahnah, Rogers managed to awaken some kind of killer goo that was hibernating under the planet's surface. He messed with it until it came back to life and ate him.”

“Holy crap! We were all down on the surface, running around for a week!” 

“Right, well Ahnah said this 'black goo' is triggered by the presence of life. We were safe down there because the Captain made us all wear armor.” 

“Yeah,” added the Gunny, “that's one lesson we learned the hard way—always go in heavy to start with because there's no telling what type of shit you're stepping into.” 

Those assembled took a moment to contemplate their good fortune in having officers that knew their asses from holes in the ground. This, they knew from experience, was not always the case. Then a thought occurred to Vinny.

“Hey, what about all those settlers? They're all down there running around without armor or even pressure suits. Why ain't the black goo got to them? ” 

“I think that's why we are accelerating at 60G for the inner system, DeSilva. I expect we'll be briefed soon enough.”

“Right, Gunny. You think we'll be safe in armor?”

“I'm hoping we don't have to find out, Kato. But it might be wise to go over your armor twice.”

Umky snorted. “It would be really humiliating to be eaten by something without claws or teeth.”

“No kidding, Nanook,” quipped Kato. Nanook—polar bear in Inuit—was widely used by Marines to refer to any white bear in a casual way. Umky had given up on fighting its use. After all, it was better than being referred to as 'man' or 'dude'. 

“We may not have to go back to the surface, but I wouldn't count on it. The only way I can see to get those civilians out of harm's way is to evacuate them.” The Gunny gave her fellow warriors a meaningful look and went back to cleaning her armor. 

She didn't want to spook her squad, but she couldn't help thinking,
I sure hope the Captain knows how to fight black goo, because I doubt that railguns are going to be very effective.
 

Captain's Sea Cabin, Peggy Sue

The ship's officers just managed to fit in the Captain's sea cabin with the addition of Doc White, Chief Zackly and Gunny Acuna. Even Chief Engineer Baldursson had made his way forward from snipe country to attend in person. The topic of discussion was what to do when the ship arrived at planet
C
in another day and a half.

“Are you saying that Fortune's captain did not take the warning message seriously?” asked Beth. 

“I'm afraid so,” the Captain replied. “Seems that Capt.
Chakrabarti has a skeptical streak. His reply was more-or-less, 'tell me another good one'.”
 

“I'm not sure I blame him,” said Bobby. “If a bunch of treasure hunters—who had given the place a clean bill of health a month ago—suddenly came charging back from the outer planets yelling about dire threats to the colonists I had just finished off loading, I'd be a bit skeptical myself.”

“Did you send him the videos?” asked Arin.

“No, I didn't want to shock him or come on too strong. I was half afraid that sending the doomsday video might make him even more suspicious of our motives.”
 

“Why would you say that, Billy Ray?” asked Doc White. For some reason, starship medical officers tended to call their captains by their given name—a tradition going back to Bones and Captain Kirk on the original Star Trek. 

“Think about it, Betty. In our report to the Fortune we purposefully omitted the existence of alien technology in the ruins, just in case we found something of commercial value worth claiming there. If what we are sayin' is true, then the ruins on Paradise do contain alien technology, technology that we must have gotten working. Maybe we just realized that there was treasure to be had on the planet, and maybe we came up with a tall tale to scare off the settlers. After all, discovering a video showing the death of a civilization 10,000 years ago seems a mite... convenient.”
 

“I guess you're right, the timing does seem a bit coincidental.”
 

“Paradise?” the Gunny said in a questioning tone.

“Yeah, evidently the Colonization Board types decided to name the planet Paradise.”

“Sort of like a real estate developer naming a subdivision 'sunny acres' or something similar,” observed Bobby.

“What about the accident in the Lab Module?” asked Mizuki. “That does not require the viewer to believe a catastrophe from the past. What happened to Dr. Rogers should be horrible enough to capture Capt. Chakrabarti's attention.”

“I'm going to try sending that next. We all may be wrong—in fact I pray we are—but I'm afraid that there's trouble a-brewin' in Paradise.”
 

Cargo Hold, ESS Fortune

“Come on, Manuel, we gotta get these goats on board the shuttle before anyone else sees 'em,” the shuttle pilot known as Mason said to his partner in crime. 

“Hey man, I ain't no goat herder.” 

Months ago, when the Fortune was still in its slip at the Farside Moon base, Mason and Manuel, in collusion with the purser, managed to slip six goats aboard and hide them in one of the cargo hold's many nooks and crannies. They did this not because they were animals lovers, but because one of the lead settlers, Rabbi Menaheim, had made a fuss over there being no goats among the livestock being shipped with the colonists.

The three goat smugglers were not risking their careers out of kindness toward the prickly old Rabbi either. Mason had managed to make contact with Menaheim before the settlers were boarded and negotiated a transport fee for the critters. With all the other animals in the hold, a few more didn't noticeably add to the noise and mess, and there was plenty of fodder to go around. This last part of the scheme was the trickiest, getting the goats to the surface unseen by the rest of the transport ship's crew.

They had to wait until the last load for the Jewish settlers as well. If they transported the goats on an earlier trip, crew from one of the other shuttles might have spotted them in the settlers' compound. As it was the scheme was risky enough, but it was worth it. Mason, Manuel and the purser stood to double their earnings for the voyage.

The smugglers had been concerned about how the payment would be made, given that Rabbi Menaheim would be several light-years away when the Fortune returned to the Moon. If he double crossed them they could hardly return to Paradise to demand their money. In the end it was the Rabbi who came up with a solution. He placed the payment—the accumulated savings of his entire flock—into an account at the First Lunar Bank. That account required the signatures of all three co-conspirators and a code from the Rabbi to open.

Moreover, there was a time delay on any withdrawals until after the ship departed. The smugglers could verify that the funds were in the bank just prior to departure but could not remove the credits. The Rabbi would not give them the secret code until the goats were delivered dirtside—if they didn't come through with the goats, the money would stay locked in the bank forever. Mason and party didn't think that the Rabbi would stiff them on the password. With his entire group on the planet below, he had no further need for Earth credits.

“Here, try waving one of these in front of 'em.” Mason produced a hand full of carrots from his coverall pocket. 

“Wow, man, you do know a lot about goats,” said Manuel as the recalcitrant goats caught the scent of the carrots and followed the two men up the ramp into the shuttle. 

“I know even more about makin' money, my friend. Stick with me, this colonial transport business could turn into a goldmine.” 

With the last of the goats lured aboard, the ramp was raised and Manuel scattered a bail of alfalfa around to keep the goats busy during the descent. Mason started the undocking procedure.

“Fortune, Shuttle Charlie. We are ready for departure.” The Fortune's three shuttles were designated A, B, and C, which translated phonetically to Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie for radio communication. 

“Shuttle Charlie, this is Capt.
Chakrabarti. What is your cargo and where are you bound?”
 

Mason grinned a smuggler's grin and replied.

“We are bound for New Jerusalem with a partial load of animal fodder and basic farm tools. There are also a few odds and ends like a repair kit for solar panels and replacement parts for the radio.”
 

“And this is the last trip you need to make to the surface?”

“Affirmative, Captain. I think we've pretty much cleaned out the cargo hold. Nothing left but stray manure from the farm animals. I'm sending you the bill of lading now.”

“Roger, Shuttle Charlie. Have a good trip.”

The shuttle's repulsors pushed it away from the larger bulk of the transport and the two crewmen began their last trip to the surface of Paradise. On the planet below, the local sun was directly overhead on the continent where New Jerusalem lay. It would be nearly nightfall by the time the shuttle landed its cargo of odds and ends, and clandestine goats.