Homesick

Sally awoke when a ray of sunlight found her eyes through the side window of the shuttlepod. She squinted and dabbed her face with a wet cloth she had set beside the navigator’s couch earlier. She looked down to see Ian seated at the environmental console. He was staring intently at the radar displays and camera views, comparing one to another in search of hidden movement outside. He heard Sally and glanced upward as if a spell had been broken.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, clearing her throat. “Anything?”

“Not a murmur all night. Nothing seems to have moved out there within fifty yards of the ship.”

“Not on my shift either,” she said. “I guess we fooled them.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “That, or they really fooled us.”

Sally shuddered. “I thought you were supposed to be the optimist.”

“I usually am, as it happens. But even I didn’t expect to get away this easy. Fortunately, when we dropped the chutes the wind carried them. That might have attracted their attention and drawn them away.”

“Good work,” Sally said, sitting up with some difficulty. “Now I guess it’s time we took a look outside.” She swung her legs over the couch and jumped the four feet to the deck below. But her knees gave way when she hit the floor and she fell hard on her hip. “Crap!”

Ian reached to help her, looking concerned.

“Stupid!” she said. “I forgot to compensate for the gravity.” She grasped a handhold on the edge of the couch and drew herself up, flexing her knees experimentally. Ian watched, his hands ready to catch her if need be.

“I’m alright,” she said, waving him off. “It’ll settle.”

Ian nodded, looking her up and down with some concern. “Should we bother with respirators, do you think?”

She shook her head. “I ran the tests again, this time with fresh samples. Still clean. I also ran an accelerated bio development simulation.” She turned to the console and keyed in some hurried commands. A screen of data appeared.

“I used all the samples we collected so far and created models for every organism and every element. Then I introduced them into a human bio-simulation and let them interact at twice real time. I had the computer chewing on it all night. The exposed model showed no significant differences from the control.”

“Amazing,” Ian said. “And you set all that up last night?”

Sally smiled. “Actually, I was probably up just as long as you were the night before preparing the matrix.”

“Who could sleep?” Ian said with a laugh.

Then Sally turned to the window and let her smile drop. “Do you have the gun ready?”

Ian patted his jacket. “Fully loaded.” He handed her the bag containing the taser and they both began loading their pockets with field gear.

“I’ll take point if you don’t mind,” Ian said as he slid his field key into the sleeve pocket of his jacket. He faced the door with gun in hand. “We’d best not take chances.”

Sally nodded and stepped back.

The outer door opened first, letting a wall of light flood in through the airlock window. Then the inner door slid aside to reveal a torrent of color and sound. Sally had never seen the pod in daylight before. In the dark of space the colorful menu displays and instrument lights made the ship look vibrant and high tech. In daylight it just looked dull and gray.

Ian exited first, taking a few cautious steps down the ladder. He panned the gun back and forth, following it carefully with his eyes. Sally followed a step behind, mirroring his visual sweep and taking in as much as possible with her eyes and ears. Ian repeated his search for targets on the next two steps, and then once again as he neared the bottom of the ladder. Then, in one final defensive move, he whirled around and assessed the area behind the ladder and under the ship. When he was satisfied that no threats were imminent, he straightened up and lowering the gun to waist level.

At his beckoning, Sally continued down the ladder until her feet met the rocky ground. With a deep breath she assessed their surroundings. The scene was strangely tranquil, which gave her yet more reason to be hesitant. They had landed in a grassy field on a ridge halfway up the side of a hill. The field was surrounded on all sides by tall trees that resembled oaks, pines, and an occasional birch. Sally squinted down the slope at what looked like a path cut through the wood leading down into the valley. It resembled a dry riverbed, and might have been just that. A soft mist had settled between the trunks of the trees below, diffusing and muting the details in the branches. The result was a gentle haze that blurred all they saw into a green backdrop, as if a master landscape painter had rubbed it with a sponge. The sound of the birds and the scent of foliage added to the serene effect. Under different circumstances the view would have made a lovely photograph, and Sally could almost imagine a picnic scene in the foreground.

A breeze blew in, bringing in more rich aromas of alien springtime. Sally had forgotten how much she missed the smells of nature, but she kept her mind clear. Danger could lurk around every corner, she told herself. Whatever attacked Scott had done so quickly and with great cunning. Survival depended on being alert.

Ian walked a circle around the ship, examining the struts critically. The ground directly beneath them was charred black and the engine’s exhaust ports were almost buried. Ian kicked at the dirt while grasping one of the struts.

“Okay?” Sally asked.

He nodded. “Better than I thought, actually.”

Sally turned back to the woods and took a few steps away from the ship, her knees wobbling as she adjusted to her new weight. Her boot struck something that made a scraping sound. She looked down to investigate, turning it over with her toe. “Ian? Concrete?”

He squatted. “Looks like it, sure enough.”

They crouched to get a better look and both arrived at the same conclusions.

“Black top,” Ian said, holding up the remains of something dark and crumbly. “And a concrete foundation below it. This is manmade.”

Sally took it from him and turned it over in her hand. She scanned the ground, searching for more fragments of asphalt. The piece Ian found was the size of her hand. Just beyond where he stood was a patch almost four feet square. Weeds and grass had wrenched their way through parts of it and were widening cracks in its surface.

“This could have been a parking lot,” Sally said.

“No wonder it’s clear of trees,” Ian agreed, kicking at the weeds as he rose. He then dislodged another piece of stone a few feet away. He reached down and lifted it, surprised at its regular shape and uniform color. “A brick! Bloody hell, it’s a paving stone!”

Sally examined it critically.

“And look!” Ian pointed to a pile of rusty metal about twenty feet from the ship. “Girders! I swear they’re girders!” He rushed over, apparently lost in curiosity.

“Ian! For God’s sake be careful!” She ran to catch up with him and they both stared at the pile of ruined metal.

“There was no mortar on that brick,” Ian said. “I’ll bet this was a building site. This may have been a foundation we landed on, or perhaps, as you say, a parking lot or loading dock of sorts.” He shook his head. “But it was all left to rot!”

“Like the satellite,” Sally offered.

“Like the satellite,” Ian agreed.

There was an awkward silence before Sally stood up straighter and consulted her hand-held for the time. She pulled the field key from her sleeve and pointed it at the shuttlepod. The door folded back up into the ship, sealing off their only contact with home. “The other pod should be about ten miles west of here,” she said, consulting her map. “Hopefully we’ll find some trace of Scott between here and there.”

Sally scanned the horizon. The upward slope was facing east. At the top of the hill she could see the remains of one of the chutes draped among the trees. The gentle ridge ran north and south but disappeared into dense growth. The riverbed ran down the hill westward. It was an uneven path and looked steep in places.

“It looks like that path is our best option,” Ian said, consulting his own hand-held.

“Convenient,” Sally agreed. “It forms an almost straight line right to the other pod. I’ve got to hand it to you, Ian, you sure chose a good landing site.” She motioned around them. “You’d have to be on top of the hill to see us and you probably picked the only couple of acres big enough to set down on.”

“More luck than skill,” he said modestly, but really meaning it. He then held a set of binoculars to his face and looked down the slope. “I think that path was a road,” he remarked. “Abandoned. It should be easy going and we can see pretty far. I’d recommend we avoid the woods unless you have better animal instincts than I do.”

“The road sounds fine. Just keep that gun drawn.”

There were more bricks scattered along the road, some were partially buried while others could have been dropped only moments before. Pieces of broken concrete and more scrap metal appeared in random patterns along the sides of the path. Some of the metal could have been parts of machines, but most looked like the rusted remains of girders and other building materials. Then Sally shouted with surprise, causing Ian to all but stumble. It was the closest thing to a scream he had ever heard from her. He turned, gun ready, to see her hovering over something half hidden in the weeds. As he approached, he could see it was something white. Bones. By the time he stood beside her his angle of view revealed an entire human skeleton. It was so well camouflaged that it would have been almost impossible to see from any other angle.

They both stared in amazement. Now it was Sally’s turn to give in to curiosity. She pulled magnifying tools from her medical pouch and stretched on a pair of gloves.

“This could be important, Ian,” she said in professional rapture. “This proves there are people here. Not aliens, but people!”

She brushed at the weeds and knelt down for a closer look. “Or almost people,” she corrected herself. She pointed to the pattern of bones that once made up a hand. “They have only three fingers. That’s not an injury. The fingers are thicker than ours. It looks natural!” She then gingerly touched the skull, moving it to examine the vertebrae that were still somehow connected. “A longer neck, but an overall shorter body. Two less ribs than we have. The skull is interesting.” She slowly turned it from side to side. “It’s a few centimeters longer in the face than ours would be. That means their heads are longer and more narrow, but their teeth are almost identical to ours.” She gasped. “Ian! Metal fillings! This man has metal fillings!”

Ian forced himself to look down at the skull, but his eyes remained more interested in the path ahead and the trees behind them.

“But this is odd,” Sally said. “Aside from the fillings, the rest of the teeth are badly damaged. Many are missing and, from the condition of the bone, I’d say they were gone while he was still alive.” She inspected the jaws with her magnifying glass and then turned back to Ian. “Why would he have those few teeth cared for and then let the others rot like that? And it looks like he suffered a few head injuries.” Then she turned her attention to the rest of the body. “Also, evidence of broken ribs, an arm with several breaks that weren’t set properly . . . two joints missing from one hand . . . and a leg that was badly mangled by something, probably recently before he died.”

Sally stood up, replacing her magnifying glass in its pouch. “This person doesn’t look like he enjoyed life very much. But earlier things were . . .”

“Like the satellite and the building site,” Ian pointed out.

She nodded. Then she looked down at the skull. Its empty sockets stared up at her in a never-ending grin, as if it knew the secret they were puzzling over but would never tell. She concealed her inward shuddering at the thought. Then she took her gloves off and dropped them where she stood.

“Let’s get moving,” Ian suggested.

Sally nodded, turning from the skeleton and resuming her pace.

They walked the next mile in silence, each concentrating on the trees on either side of the path. They stayed in their shade whenever possible, cognizant of the fact that their progress could be noticed by a diligent observer below. The taser became slippery in Sally’s hands, lubricated from both the effort of fighting gravity and fear of what lay ahead. Now she had a reason to be afraid. The skeleton gave it to her. Skulls had frightened her as a child, which might explain why she became fascinated with them as a teen and studied them diligently as a medical student. Over time she had traded her fear for understanding and frightening ghost stories for forensic research. One could learn much about a person from studying their bones. But that was the problem. The long dead man they left in the grass was more talkative than she had let on to Ian. And he told a grim tale. Those bones screamed of years of pain and anguish with no relief. They spoke of serious injuries left untreated and a regular catalog of routine abuse and neglect. And somewhere on this planet the abusers were waiting. Now, after years of learning and professional detachment, the ghost stories that frightened her as a child began to seem tame.

“There’s another one.” Ian pointed to a sprawling collection of bones lying face down, as if it were trying to crawl up the slope.

Sally didn’t have to look too closely this time. She could see from a distance that it told the same story as the other one. One of its hands was missing and there were numerous broken and re-healed bones. Sally motioned for them to continue.

“But why would they be left here like this?” Ian asked. “They must have been laying about for months!”

“Years, more likely,”

“But what kind of society would do that?” Ian said in disgust. “I mean there are people still alive here somewhere. Somebody’s bound to have seen them!”

“Maybe it’s not a high traffic area,” she suggested.

“Or it could be plague is a possibility after all,” Ian said, facing her with concern.

“No,” Sally said. “No sudden sickness did this. Those men died over a long period of time. I’d say they were worked to death.”

“Worked to death?”

“That and starved. I’m seeing evidence of long-term injuries that just aren’t normal. Also, there are malformations consistent with extreme malnutrition.”

“Like the bloody Nazi concentration camps,” Ian said, looking back at the body. “Maybe they escaped, tried to climb the hill and . . .”

“Let’s hope we find Scott soon,” Sally said, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

They no longer noticed the birdsong or the scent of the spring air. The pitiful bones precluded any possibility that this strange world was a paradise. Now it was just overgrown and neglected. It was a place with mysterious hidden dangers that hadn’t surfaced yet. Both kept their weapons out and in hand, and they expected to need them.

But then Sally heard a wheezing sound from amid the cooing of birds. She reeled in horror. There in the path ahead lay a man! He was on his side, dragging himself slowly down the slope. His hands were raw and bloody and his breathing was so labored that each thrust he made forward seemed to threaten his life. He clutched a worn and dirty canvas sack, dragging it forward a few inches at a time. Sally ran to him, picking at her medical kit as she approached.

“Captain, no!” Ian shouted. “Don’t be daft! Respirators!”

Of course he was right! Sally stopped short, almost losing her balance. She struggled with a surgical mask from the kit and gave one to Ian, who still seemed reluctant to approach. She crouched over the man. One of his eyes was missing and its infected, puss-filled socket was exposed. The other eye focused on her momentarily and he tried to speak.

“Water! He needs water!” Sally shouted. She pulled out her canteen, filled a metal cup from her pack, and gently put it to his lips. He tried to back away, but she supported his head. Then she noticed something she couldn’t have expected. Something that sent a chill through a part of her soul she may have forgotten about. His cheeks and ears were caked with blood and his flesh was so torn in places that Sally could almost see bone. But his cracked and bleeding lips were stretched broadly in a smile.

“Don’t be afraid!” Sally cooed. “We’re here to help you.”

She felt the man’s arms, checking for broken bones and other obvious injuries. She didn’t like what she saw. Like his face, his entire body was covered in a layer of filth cemented in place by blood from countless wounds. His clothing seemed grafted to his skin, as if he had worn the same rags for years. His hair was long and unkempt as was his beard. The man stank of disease, neglect, and urine to the extent that Sally could barely resist the urge to gag. Below this stench of decay was a particularly unwelcome odor that Sally recognized instinctively. The man smelled of death.

“Can you hear me?” Sally asked, knowing that even if he could, her words would be meaningless to him.

But he did try to answer her. As he spoke she could see that most of his teeth were little more than brown stumps or blackened holes. Naturally, the words he formed made no sense but he tugged at the sack as if giving instructions concerning it. He pushed the water away and pointed to the bag repeatedly with his eye and his mangled hands.

“What? You want me to see this?”

Sally lifted the bag and peered inside. It contained bricks, pieces of concrete, and scraps of wood. Her first thought was that the man was mentally ill. He reminded her of an urban homeless person toting a shopping cart full of junk. But then she noticed something else in the bag. Something familiar. Something that made her blood boil.

“Scott’s biomonitor!” she shouted, holding up a white, metal device. The strap that held it to Scott’s arm was missing and the display was blank. As she turned it over she could see that the back panel had been caved in, as if it had been deliberately smashed with a piece of brick.

“Where did you find this?” she asked, holding it to his face.

His smile broadened and he continued to babble, looking from one to the other as if he were telling them exiting news.

“The man’s gone,” Ian said. “He’s probably delirious.”

She touched his arms, continuing her examination unconsciously. He didn’t resist. She pinched his skin gently and felt the musculature of his forearm.

“My God, this man is malnourished. And he’s dehydrated! Get me a ration pack!”

Ian pulled back the foil on a rectangular food tin he produced from his backpack. When the air hit the tray it reacted with a coating on the food, boiling it away, leaving a well-cooked slab of beef and gravy. Sally peeled the fork from the bottom of the tray, skewered the beef, and brought it to the man’s lips. But as he tasted or smelled it his face contorted in surprise and fear. His babbling changed, taking on a scolding tone. He grasped for the container of food, but his fingers were weak like a baby’s grip. Sally helped him set it on the ground. With his other hand, the man tugged at the sack.

“I think he’s trying to put the food in that bag,” Ian said.

“It won’t do him any good in there.” Sally took up the fork again and cradled the man’s head. “Come on, buddy, you need this!”

Again, he backed away from the food, almost gagging.

“Perhaps it’s poisonous to him and he knows it,” Ian suggested.

“Well, we’d better find something that isn’t, then. He won’t last the day like he is now! Can you make out anything of his language?”

“I’ve been recording since he started talking, but it’ll take the translator a while to establish patterns. Also, with all those missing teeth, I can’t imagine his enunciation would be stellar.”

The man tugged at his bag again and jerked his head towards the downward slope.

“Now it looks like he wants something down there,” Ian said, looking ahead to where the man pointed.

“That’s where he was heading,” Sally agreed. “But I don’t see what this bag has to do with it. There’s no way he could have carried it down there. It’s full of bricks!”

But, as she motioned to the bag, she noticed something else as the sunlight found them through a gentle cloud. The bag, the bricks, and the concrete were all stained with blood.

“My God, that must be what happened to his hands! He’s been digging through this rubble with his bare hands! I’ll need to bandage him.”

She found a roll of gauze in the medical kit and set it aside. Then she wet a sterile pad with antiseptic.

“Poor fella, this is going to sting like crazy!”

She cleaned his right hand hesitantly, expecting him to jump from the pain, but he didn’t. His breathing became slower and more relaxed. He groaned almost silently as she rubbed at the coarse, torn layers of skin on his three-fingered hand. It was a strange groan. In Sally’s mind it sounded more like a cat purring with contentment than a man shouldering a burden of pain.

“It looks as though he likes it,” Ian commented.

But he didn’t like the gauze. As soon as he saw it he clawed at it with his other hand and reached for the bag again, babbling more urgent pleas.

“He’s in serious condition!” Sally said, trying desperately to re-wrap the man’s bleeding hand over his objections. “We’ll need to get him somewhere. I can’t help him here! The superficial injuries alone could take hours to treat and he’s too crazy to let us help him!”

“Well, if you can keep him chatting, I may be able to get the translator working well enough to ask him a few questions.”

“Good luck! I can’t imagine how confused that thing must be, considering he expresses pain by smiling. If that’s normal for them, who knows how different their language is!”

“No, I’m afraid the smile is genuine enough. I still can’t decipher much of what he said before, but half of it seems to be telling us how happy he is.”

“Happy we’ve found him? Why doesn’t he let us help him then?”

“No,” Ian said. “I don’t think our being here has anything to do with it.”

“Then he’s lost his mind. He must be in tremendous pain right now! He’s got two broken ribs!”

“The other words he keeps repeating might be more important,” Ian said.

Sally stared at him.

“Whenever he talks about that bag, I get the word ‘treasure,’ or words to that effect.” He paused for emphasis. “But whenever he points down that road, I’m pretty sure he’s saying ‘master.’ He seems to use that word a great deal. ‘Master’ or ‘masters.’”

Sally trained her gaze at the road ahead, looking off down the slope. “That means whoever did this to him . . .”

“Could be right between us and the other pod,” Ian finished.

“And we know Anderson was probably abducted, and not by people like this.” Sally glanced at the broken man dying on her lap. Finally, with what seemed like great mental effort, she set down her medical kit and gently lowered the man to the ground.

“We’d better find Scott now,” she said. “I don’t think I can help this man. We’ll make him as comfortable as possible and leave him some food.”

Ian nodded in agreement, extending his hand to her.

“And Ian,” Sally added with dark determination, “don’t be afraid to shoot at any of these ‘masters’ if you feel it’s necessary. They don’t seem like the kind of people we can reason with.”