Alien Jungle (3 page)

T
race crossed the crowded cafeteria, passing tables of laughing, boisterous people. He scanned the room for Impani and Natica then spotted them in a corner booth. Impani’s face brightened as he approached, making his step lighter. She patted the seat next to her. As he sat, she leaned to kiss his cheek.

“We thought we’d missed you,” Impani said.

He shrugged. “I overslept.”

“I’m not surprised, staying up half the night with my friend here.”

Trace raised an eyebrow at Natica. What had she said about him?

“It was just one drink.” Natica laughed. “I kept him safe for you.”

“Anyway, I ordered you chai.” Impani slid a cup his way.

“Great.” He took a sip, trying not to make a face at the now lukewarm tea.

“Impani was telling me about her mission,” Natica said.

“Oh, you should have been there.” Impani’s green eyes widened. “There were mermaids, and giant squids, and a city at the bottom of a lake.”

Trace laughed. “How did you find a city down there?”

“We were jetting across the water, and a huge creature reached up and snagged me.”

“Must’ve been a sizable lake to hold an animal like that.”

“It was. Couldn’t even scan the other side.”

“Wait a minute,” Natica said. “You tried to cross a body of water when you couldn’t tell how wide it was? Pani, you know better than that.”

“That’s what they said in debriefing. But, honestly. If I hadn’t gone across the lake, the squid wouldn’t have dragged me under, and I would never have seen the city. Right?” Impani looked back and forth at them.

He chuckled. “You are unshakable.”

“Yes, I am.” She snuggled against his side. “It appears that you and I have a bit of free time.”

“Is that so?” he murmured, slipping his arm about her.

“Both of us came back early. We shouldn’t have another mission lined up for at least another day.” Her bright eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Want to do something fun?”

“Well, let’s see.” He frowned as if thinking hard. “We could spend the morning in the gym. Maybe get in a little target practice this afternoon.”

Both Impani and Natica groaned.

“Or,” Trace said, “we could have lunch at that art museum you’re so fond of visiting.”

Impani beamed, and for a moment, he was lost in the perfection of her face, the warmth of her body next to his.

“Trace. There you are.” Davrileo Mas jogged to their table. “Mr. Arkenstone wants to see you in his office. Now.”

“Why? What’s up?” he blurted, louder than he’d intended.

“I’m just the messenger.” Davrileo raised his hands and walked away.

Trace set his teeth against a knot of trepidation. He met Natica’s gaze.

“It’s probably nothing.” Her voice was grave.

“What?” asked Impani. “What’s going on?”

“I’d better find out.” He slid from the booth. “Keep me penciled in for lunch, all right?”

He exited the cafeteria, shoulders hunched as if a big red arrow hung over his head. He knew why Arkenstone summoned him. No doubt, a formal reprimand would be placed on his record, his first and last mission as team leader. He frowned as he imagined Robert Wilde’s face when he heard the news.

Trace had never been in the Program Director’s office, never took advantage of Arkenstone’s open-door policy. Other Scouts had. Impani was practically on a first-name basis—but Trace didn’t feel comfortable with authority figures. Too soon, he reached the office. He leaned against the wall and wiped his clammy hands on his tunic. With a shuddering breath, he entered. A holographic portrait of an ocean dominated the room. The waves rolled, and as he watched, a boat sailed into view.

He approached a woman behind a desk. “Nice holo.”

“Makes me dizzy. Can I help you?”

“I’m Trace Hanson. Mr. Arkenstone wanted to see me.”

She nodded toward an open door. “He’s waiting for you in the conference room.”

Trace approached the room. He knocked on the doorframe. Three men stood from a circular table. One was Mr. Arkenstone. Trace had met him on several occasions but always in a group setting, so he was surprised when the Director called him by name.

“Come in, Trace.” Arkenstone motioned with a sweep of his arm. “This is Mr. Dunlop of the Supervisory Board.”

Dunlop leaned forward to shake Trace’s hand.

“And this is Mr. King, Inspector General of the Federation,” Arkenstone said.

Trace paused. A government official? He must be in more trouble than he thought. With a stoic nod, he shook Mr. King’s hand.

Arkenstone closed the door. “Sit down.”

Stiffly, Trace pulled out a chair. He felt far away, as if in a dream. Focus, he told himself. But inside he quailed. If he washed out as a Scout, would they send him back to prison?

He’d gotten into the Colonial Scouts as a plea bargain for a crime he did not commit. He’d been working as an off-loader on a merchant ship. While on leave, he happened across a man assaulting a girl in an alley. He stepped in to help her. The man turned out to be a local politician who, trying to salvage his political career, claimed Trace had robbed him. The girl settled out of court and wouldn’t corroborate Trace’s story.

Now he sat again before a government official.

Arkenstone slapped a folder of yellow papers before Trace. Real paper, not digital transparencies. The top sheet was stamped
CONFIDENTIAL
.

“Planet NGC920-03.” Arkenstone took his seat. “You can read the full report on your own time. Suffice it to say that the Scouts surveying the planet found no animal or humanoid life. But they did note accelerated plant growth, saying mushrooms grew before their eyes. That was twelve years ago.

“Ten years ago, a team of thirty scientists was dispatched to study the phenomenon. This was before the food crisis, of course, and the mission was meant as research only. Low priority. The scientists were to transmit their findings periodically. Communications being what they were in those days, it took months to receive the reports. No one noticed for nearly a year that the reports had stopped.”

Trace frowned and looked from person to person. He wanted to yell
what the drel does this have to do with my reprimand?
Instead, he said, “Excuse me, sir, but what happened to the scientists?”

“We don’t know for certain,” Dunlop said. “Their last communiqué mentioned illness. We assume they died.”

“You have to understand.” Arkenstone spread his hands. “By the time we realized there was a problem, it was too late to help. Also, during that period, the cost of sending a Scout to follow up was prohibitive.”

“Six months ago,” Dunlop said, “a group of seventy businessmen, scientists, and laborers left for planet NGC920-03.”

“They were warned, of course, of the health threat,” King said, “but the benefits outweighed the risks. With the current food shortage, you must see why the Federation has renewed interest in this planet.”

“They reached the world two months ago,” Dunlop told Trace. “Reports from both the drop ship and the colonists themselves indicated a successful landing and a good start to construction of camp. Then…”

Silence struck the room. Trace leaned away from the folder before him.

Arkenstone cleared his throat. “This morning, a message came in through an Impellic ring. I’d play it for you now, but the signal was degraded.”

“They spoke of assailants,” King said.

Dunlop tapped the papers briskly. “There are no indigenous life forms in this report. Inhabitants did not spring out of nowhere in twelve years.”

“Trace, you will lead a team to evaluate first hand,” Arkenstone said. “Scouts have never been used in this capacity before, so it is vital that this mission succeed.”

Trace sat straighter. “What capacity, sir?”

“Rescue, of course,” King said. “You are to ring onto the planet and then ring back, transporting colonists with you.”

“Correct,” Arkenstone said, “but only if you cannot stabilize the situation. The mission has the standard three-day limit. Your team will consist of four members. Each Scout will travel via a separate ring—”

“Five rings?” Trace blurted. “How can we transport seventy people with only five rings?”

“We understand that it will be impossible to bring them all back,” Arkenstone said.

“Unfortunate business,” Dunlop crooned. “Cannot be helped.”

King said, “Actually, we are only interested in the safe retrieval of one man.”

“Which is why we’ve chosen to meet with you alone.” Dunlop’s eyes sharpened.

“This is classified information, Trace,” Arkenstone told him. “If you find that the colony cannot be salvaged, your orders are to ring back to Central with fifteen colonists, including the target. Your team will be told they are there to assist and stabilize. They will be unaware of this additional aspect of the mission.”

“Because they’d never go along with it!”

“You are team leader,” Arkenstone said. “Keep the others in line.”

Five rings. Seventy people. “You’re asking me to pick and choose who will live and—”
Who will be abandoned
.

“I’m asking you to assess the situation and make a decision,” Arkenstone said. “Take charge. You are eighteen years old now.”

Sure. In four months.
Trace groaned. “Who is this person? A Federation diplomat?”

“Not exactly,” Arkenstone said. “It’s your father.”

“S
houldn’t you be praying?”

Natica looked up from her novel to see Trace standing over her. She moved to allow him room on the bench. “I like to read in the bethel. It’s quieter than in the library.
You
can pray, though.” She motioned to the nondenominational altar and candles at the head of the room.

He sat beside her. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Natica switched off the screen of her notepad. The pew fell to darkness. Did he want to start a conversation in this place of silence? She cleared her throat. “So. In less than an hour we’ll be on another planet.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you the one who chose the team?”

“Me? No,” he said. “I told them who I thought were the best. You and Impani, of course. And Anselmi. I guess Robert Wilde was the wild card.”

He chuckled at his joke, but the laugh was empty, and she wondered if it was having Robert on the team that bothered him. They didn’t exactly get along.

“They made you team leader,” she said. “That must make you happy.”

“Sure.” He looked at her. “Why, though? Why did they choose me?”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t have much experience as leader. And I was looking at the mission specs—”

“Me, too,” she said. “A fungus world. It should be perfect for you. I bet you know all about plants.”

Trace smiled. “My science projects were the stuff of infamy. Once I tried to prove the effect electricity had on the growth rate of beans. I was so sure I was onto something. The experiment failed miserably.”

“Still, you have more experience than I do. Just once I’d like to be sent to a watery planet like the one Impani and Anselmi saw.”

“Feeling homesick?”

She shrugged. “How about you? Do you ever miss your farm?”

“I don’t think about it much.” He looked away, his eyes shadowed in the candlelight.

Natica wanted to tell him that she thought about her home all the time. She wanted to say that she would like to take him there and show him the floating cities. But just then a Scout walked past their pew to the altar. She glowered at the boy’s back as he lit a small candle from one of the chunky ones.

In a faraway voice, Trace said, “When my mother was alive, the farm was a home. She made everything warm and comfortable.”

“She was a scientist, wasn’t she?”

“A botanist. My father called her the plant whisperer. When I was young, I wanted to be just like her.”

“How did she die?”

“Maramus Disease.”

Natica cringed. She knew of Maramus—a rare strain of cancer that was impervious to standard cures. “A hard way to die.”

“My father wasn’t even with her at the end,” Trace said. “He was off on one of his fundraisers. As usual. The farmer who would be politician.”

She watched the praying Scout leave the bethel. “I wonder what your father’s doing on Fungus World?”

“I’m more concerned about the distress call. My father never asked for help in his life.”

“They reported attacks.”

“Yeah I know, and that doesn’t sound right. The original Scouts said nothing about inhabitants.”

“Well, the five of us will ring onworld and save the day. Your dad will be proud.”

“No, he won’t. As far as my father is concerned, everything I do is wrong. I’ve never
ever
been good enough. I just feel like…” He took a breath then said in a rush, “Like I should step down as team leader.”

“You can’t do that.”

“What
should
I do? Go there and… and—”

“Think about it.” She placed her hand on his arm. “If these were regular colonists, you wouldn’t hesitate. Right? And you shouldn’t hesitate now. Besides, I’d feel much safer if you led us. If you refuse the mission, they might make Robert Wilde team leader.”

He gave another vacant laugh. “Actually, it would likely fall to Impani. Where is she? I came here looking for her.”

Natica drew away. It was always Impani. All the boys wanted her—especially Trace. But Impani thought only of herself.

“She’ll be back.” Natica forged a smile. “She wanted to speak to Mr. Arkenstone.”

<<>>

“H
ow can you choose him as team leader over me?” Impani stood before Arkenstone’s desk, her fists clenched. “I’ve completed every mission, and I have much more experience as leader.”

“This is not meant as punishment, Impani,” Arkenstone said. “We simply feel that Trace’s temperament is better suited—”

“Temperament?” She glared. “My psych evaluation states that I am perfectly suited—”

“As a Scout,” he said. “But this mission doesn’t call for an explorer. It needs a level-headed problem solver.”

“I always get the job done.”

“But at what cost? Take your last mission, for example.”

“That mission was a success,” she said. “If I hadn’t found the mermaid city, you might be planning to colonize that planet right now. I took the risk.”

“And in doing so, both you and your partner nearly died. We can’t afford your off-the-cuff, let’s-try-it-and-see attitude. This mission is too visible. If all goes well, it might open up a whole new aspect, an extension of the Colonial Scouts.”

She sank onto a chair.
That’s exactly the point
.
That’s why I want to lead.
I want to be the hero who started it all.

“The techs will call for you soon,” Arkenstone said. “You’d better get prepared.”

Impani felt something akin to panic. “Sir, please reconsider.”

“You are dismissed.”

<<>>

“B
ut, Pani, he’s your boyfriend,” Natica said. “You should be happy for him.”

“I am happy. I’m ecstatic.” Impani paced the short hallway before the suiting rooms. “He can just go on his little mission and tell me all about it when he gets back.”

“He needs you there. We all do.”

“That’s not what Arkenstone said. Can’t afford my attitude.”

“Yet, he chose you for the team,” Natica told her. “He expects you and Trace to balance each other. And if anything should go wrong, you are the one with the most missions, the experience to see us through.”

Impani sagged against the wall. “You don’t understand. They don’t look at you the way they look at me.”

“Who? The other Scouts?”

“The other Scouts, the techs, even Mr. Arkenstone. They all know I was homeless, that I grew up on the streets, no family, no schooling. They think I got here by being pretty.”

Natica stood beside her. “And now you want to prove that you’re good despite those things?”

“No.” Impani looked up. “I intend to prove I’m good because of them.”

<<>>

T
race was first to enter the Impellic Chamber. He grumbled and hoisted his backpack. The pack typically carried supplies needed on a long mission. This time, it concealed extra skinsuits for the colonists he’d been sent to retrieve. As if Arkenstone had already decided that he’d be unable to salvage the situation. As if they
expected
him to fail.

He stopped in the center of the Chamber and stared at the changes that had been made. The room was elongated. Walls had been removed. Instead of one cylinder, there were five. Mirrors still encased every surface, and light bounced from them at odd angles. As he set his pack upon the floor, he saw a hundred images of himself move in sync.

One of the mirrors opened, and Robert Wilde stepped forward. He gave a low whistle. “I’d like to know what they’re thinking. The amount of energy required to maintain five rings at once must be staggering.”

Trace grimaced. His mind returned to his meeting with Arkenstone and the two officials. “They know what they’re doing.”

“Let’s hope
you
do.” Wilde adjusted his mask. “Daddy’s boy.”

Trace’s jaw dropped. Of course. That was the crux of it. Wilde figured he’d been named team leader because of his father.

And he was right.
Arkenstone knew no other Scout would take this mission—just as he knew Trace could not refuse. Because of his father. He couldn’t let his father die.

But how could he enforce a partial evacuation? It was accepted that Impellic rings could carry up to four people at a time. That meant each Scout could take only three colonists with them. That’s fifteen out of seventy. Trace stifled a moan and turned away, but he could not hide his expression from the multi-mirrored room.

Behind him, Wilde sat on the platform at the base of a cylinder. “So why five rings? Why not pair us up as usual?”

“Precaution, that’s all,” Trace told him. “It’s a dangerous mission. They want to give each of us control over our own ring, so that if one of us gets in trouble, they can ring back by themselves instead of waiting for me to do it.”

Wilde smirked. “Kind of dilutes your authority.”

“No. I still carry the master control.” But Trace could not deny feeling used and constrained. His stomach roiled. Fifteen out of seventy.

Anselmi entered. His gaze fell on Trace. “Fifteen what?”

“He’s reading your mind.” Wilde grinned.

“It’s time to go,” Trace said. “Where are the girls?”

“You know how they are,” said Wilde.

Just then, Natica came in. She caught Trace’s eye and looked away.

Trace wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the others. Instead, he said, “Where’s Impani?”

Without a word, Natica crossed the room and stepped onto a platform. Wilde snorted in derisive amusement and stood beside his own cylinder.

A voice over a speaker said, “You’re powered up, Trace. Is your team ready?”

Trace’s gut squirmed. He looked at Anselmi.

Then another door opened, and Impani burst into the room.

“I know I’m late,” she said.

“We’re good to go,” Trace called to the unseen tech.

With his pack over his shoulder, he stepped onto the last platform and pressed against the cylinder. A deep hum grew in his chest. The lights brightened. Glare ricocheted from the walls. He closed his eyes. Soon he would stand before his father. He forced away a familiar dread. Natica was right; only the mission mattered. Colonists needed his help.

The ring descended and closed around him. The hum intensified. He felt a tremendous yank, tearing him from the Chamber, spitting him into the void. He braced against a sensation of inconceivable speed, his body tense, jaw tight.

Abruptly, his velocity stopped. For a moment, he flattened against an unseen barrier. Then, with a sense of being born, he felt the barrier part. His eyes opened upon another world.