SYMBIOSIS Launch day. Mike calmed his nerves as he gazed over the some five hundred thousand people that had squeezed their way onto the viewing area of the John Wayne Space Center in Dallas. He understood their curiosity, their need to watch the take off of Life Surveyor I. It was the beginning of an ambitious, and dangerous, mission into deep space. LSI stood, a quiet spot in a human storm, like a giant, silver marble in the hot Texas sun. The distant sounds of the Marine Band playing 'Anchors Away' carried over his headset as Mike activated the low range magno drive. A low, loud bong signaled their rise into the air. Wild applause exploded from the crowd, crackly in Mike's ears, as they hovered at two thousand feet. Captain Holmes gave Mike a nod, and he punched in the high range drive. With a thundering boom, the drive's magnetic reversal kicked them out of orbit. Inside LSI, Capt'n Bill busily scanned telemetry, watching for pieces of space debris. Their propulsion by electromagnetic reversal created a force field he could extend to repel objects, and Mike was glad it gave the Capt'n something to do while he and Ted directed the ship to deep space. Ted, the navigator, said from behind his console, "Time to look out the window, mates, the sun is rising on our port bow." The port video displayed a filtered picture of their passage by Sol. Special optics gave an impressive view of a large solar flare with two smaller eruptions bubbling on the surface like burnished gold in swirling lava. The picture lasted less than two seconds as they zipped past, so Ted replayed it from the optical library disc at a slower speed. "Wadda sight, eh maties, all that gold?" Ted spoke in a pirate's voice and rubbed his hands together greedily. Mike groaned, making Ted laugh. The medical officer and biological specialist, Doctor Steven Porter, Doc to all onboard, compared information on three different display readouts. Mike didn't like the way he was frowning. "Would one of you two check the figures for the ship's gravitational system. We seem to be running... a little light." He flipped his stylus into the air where it did two lazy somersaults before settling slowly to the floor. "See?" Mike shrugged as he scanned the console. "Everything checks out normal here, Doc." Capt'n Bill leaned over his shoulder. "He's right, everything is top dead center. What do you think is causing that?" A puzzled look crossed Doc's face as he checked the readouts himself, and then flipped the stylus again. With another frown, he jumped. As if in slow motion, he drifted, then settled a few inches back from his starting position. "Hmmm. Doppler effect, perhaps. The eggheads probably didn't consider we would be outside the influence of the gravitational effect of our solar system, and traveling faster than the speed of light. Probably nothing to worry about, just something to get used to." "Oh, yeah?" Ted's voice sounded excited as he pointed at the central control panel, "look at the time!" "Holy shit!" Mike said. The digital time display was spinning so fast he was unable to read it. "Doppler effect?" Capt'n Bill scratched his head. "Even Einstein would be confounded by this. Who could guess how speeds faster than light might affect time?" He turned to Mike. "After you get Doc's figures, send a message buoy to earth with our findings." Mike glanced up at the video display. Rainbow streaks of light where the stars whizzed by gave him goose bumps. "Want me to include a video of this?" "Yes." "How much time has elapsed?" Doc asked. "About three freakin' years!" Ted's eyebrows were pulled up so high on his forehead they almost touched his hairline. Mike couldn't help smiling at his astonishment. They all knew this was an experimental journey, and with this new propulsion system, anything was possible. "By my own reckoning," Doc said, "we've been traveling about three hours, relative time. So, if that is true, in another five hours we'll be approaching the QL28 system." Mike realized his mouth was hanging open and probably looked as shocked as Ted. He closed it with a snap and ran a hand through his hair. "This mission was supposed to last at least sixteen years." Doc had finished his calculations for the message to earth and looked first at the Capt'n, then Mike and Ted. Mike wasn't sure what to make of his expression, almost a mixture of joy and fear. "I guess we lucked out. The eight-year trip to QL28 has been reduced to about eight hours. For us, anyway." "Hey," said Ted. "I could get into magno travel. Hell, I don't even need a shave!" He rubbed his chin, and screwed up his mouth comically. Maybe he could joke about it, but as pilot, Mike could only guess at how they were going to stop this wild ride. The reverse process was supposed to brake them on entry into the system, theoretically, that is. But, going this fast, what if it couldn't? "And," Ted continued, "my twenty-four hour deodorant is good for years!" "Okay, crew," Capt'n Bill said, holding up his hands, "Let's regroup. We all knew the risks when we volunteered for this mission. The logistics of the flight may have changed, but not the mission. Let's concentrate on the upcoming procedures, by the book. I want full reports on all systems right now." "You mean yesterday," Doc said with a wry grin. Mike was relieved when the long braking ellipse into the QL28 system went according to plan. On the approach to the second planet, a problem with the droid probe prevented him from retrieving physical data. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip as he slowed to low range propulsion. Panning the external video got back some fantastic pictures of its meteor-blasted surface. The third planet, designated E III, was the pivot point for the return leg, and the second on the list to set down on. It had three large, dark gray landmasses and an icecap, all surrounded by a huge, blue ocean. White clouds swirled in its atmosphere. "Ooo, look!" Ted said, "a horsey." He zoomed in on the crashing waves. "Hell, I forgot my surfboard." Mike poked him in the arm when the Capt'n looked at him and frowned. Water wasn't a new discovery in space, it had been discovered on Mars years before. But, life hadn't been found anywhere in the known galaxy. Besides testing the magno drive, that was their mission and the QL28 system with its twin suns held the most promise. On the braking ellipses around M XI, the fourth planet in the QL28 system and the first scheduled stop, Doc, Ted and Mike crowded around the view port. The planet was capped by polar ice, had two large seas of sluggish turquoise, and land covered in varying shades of green. Unmistakable life. With more than a little excitement, Mike further slowed the ship as Ted updated the optical library discs that recorded the visual findings of the first documented life in space. "The scanners show no trees or upright plants of any kind," Doc said, "and no indications of animal life. The whole planet appears to be covered by some form of moss or lichen, even the oceans." Ted peered over Mike's shoulder as he gazed at the green landscape. Soon all their faces were plastered to the domed glass viewing port. The land varied from flat, to hilly, to mountainous, all covered in green. Endless, boring green. Ted whispered, "Is it ripe yet?" Mike stole a quick peek at the Capt'n, who was frowning, and elbowed Ted. "The boss is watching," he whispered. "Looks like a droid probe will be necessary," Capt'n Bill said. "Mike, are you set to launch?" Nodding, Mike set the droid loose and monitored it as it settled to the surface. Below, an erupting volcano spewed orange and yellow rivulets. Descending to one thousand feet, he kept a safe distance between the ship and the mountain. Magma poured from its broken top, rolled down its side and over the verdant landscape. The contrast of colors, red, yellow, gray and black broke the monotony of green. He watched the steaming river cool, turning to black as it hardened. The lichen, or whatever it was, seemed to creep up and over the lava and covered it completely in less than five minutes. "Now, that's mold with a purpose," said Ted. Worried, Mike looked at Doc for an explanation. "We should wait for the results from the droid probe, but I don't believe it will be wise to set down here," Doc said. "Although the lichen seems to be a simple organism, there is no doubt in my mind that it would cover us just as quickly as it did the lava." Ted nodded his agreement with vigor. Having envisioned being infected with a voracious form of athlete's foot, Mike was relieved they wouldn't be landing soon, if ever. "I agree," said Capt'n Bill. "The probe probably won't give us complete information, but hopefully will last long enough to confirm the presence of life. Ted, are we vectored for orbit." "Aye, Cap'n." Ted imitated a Scottish brogue. "Mike, take us back up to two thousand." "Aye, Cap'n," he said, imitating Ted. Twenty minutes later, Doc scanned the results the probe sent before its transmission abruptly ended. "Just as I suspected. Mostly single celled, and although plant-like, it has some vaguely animal qualities." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We have found life, gentlemen, the problem is it won't be anything we can talk to for a few million years." "Primordial ooze," Ted said slowly, wrinkling up his nose. "No, past that I think," said Doc, "but not far from it." The return leg brought them back to E III, and Mike hoped it offered something more than ravenous slime. Now more confident of the power of the ship, he descended toward the surface. At two thousand feet, he put LSI in slow orbit around the planet. The surface of E III seemed hostile and brutal. Barren landmasses from some violent seismic event and a pounding ocean seemed devoid of life. The readouts jumped wildly as the atmosphere was struck by sudden, typhoon-like storm that raged then abruptly died. The ocean mercilessly battered the sheer cliffs lining the shoreline with awesome waves, some well over fifty feet high. Ted started singing "Sufin' Safari" but trailed off when Capt'n Bill scowled at him. "Doc, I don't see any technical reason not to set down, any readings that would indicate a biological reason?" Capt'n Bill asked. "No, but meteorological the place is pretty unstable. Storms are born and die in an instant and can be pretty violent. I just clocked a wind speed of two hundred sixty miles per hour." Mike whistled. "That's as fast as a tornado." "Only these are straight winds," Doc said. "Well, blow me down," Ted piped and chuckled like Popeye. Mike bit the inside of his cheek, trying hard not to laugh. The Capt'n looked blandly past Ted at the console, then rubbed his chin. "Ted, look for a secluded area, preferably near the ocean. If there's life here, that's where it will be." He pointed to the monitor showing the powerful waves. On their fourth orbit, using the Navcom's topography scanner, Ted found a spot on the eastern shore of the largest land mass. From the air, it looked like a giant trident poking out into the water. "Let's name it Poseidon's Point." Mike's suggestion seemed agreeable to all. With none of the fanfare of their departure, he settled them into a well-protected cove between two of Poseidon's blades. Each towering mass of stone extended nearly two miles to the water's edge. Ted had found a good spot. The audio picked up the brutal winds as they whistled high overhead, but the velocity gauge only showed a light breeze where they were. None of the treacherous waves could reach them, either. They broke half way up the beach. "Atmospheric gas content shows the oxygen level is low, fifteen point eight percent, but breathable. The high nitrogen and carbon dioxide indicate volcanic activity, so do the sulfur and methane levels, but they're too low to be toxic," Doc said, scanning the computer readout. "There are a lot of salts here, very high levels. The air analysis indicates virtually no bacterial contaminant, although there are organic compounds present. I need samples." A robot droid trundled out to collect specimens. Mike watch it scoot over the grainy surface, stop and scoop a sample, then continue down to the water's edge. He held his breath as a wave grew threatening, then crashed just feet from the droid. Water washed around the treads, but didn't upset it. With a slow sweep, it collected a specimen from the water. He could sense the excitement as it returned. Following strict quarantine, Doc had the droid place the samples in the Hot Box. With consummate care, he slipped his hands into the long rubber gloves and began reviewing the contents. "My God! Look here. There's a stalk of some sort of reddish-green seaweed clinging to this rock." The Capt'n stepped closer, and Mike had to stand on tiptoe between him and Ted to get a look. If he hadn't known it was from another planet, he's have thought it was just another hunk of the stinky stuff that washed up on the beach back home. "Life seems to be a bit more evolved here." The Capt'n clapped Doc on the shoulder. "Anything else?" Doc's mouth was hanging open. Mike had to stifle a laugh. He's never seen the Doc look anything but professional, but there he was, gaping like an astonished schoolboy seeing his first girly magazine. He had the water sample in his hand, and suddenly he realized why Doc looked so shocked. There was a tiny crustacean floating in it. "Yee-ha!" Ted nearly busted his eardrum. Mike gave him another poke and he just laughed. "What do you make of that?" The Capt'n peered at the vial, brow creased. "Some sort of crustacean, but I'll need to run tests first. I'll give you a report after I have a chance to study all the specimens." While Doc began meticulously testing the samples, Mike went back to the console to check the readings outside. Little change from when they first landed. That was good. For now they were safe, but who knew what the night would bring. Ted was horsing around with the video taking shots of the waves as they rolled in. "Man, I am serious here. I should have brought my surfboard, those waves are bitchin'." "Yeah, sure. You probably would be eaten by the Great Granddaddy of Moby Dick." "Gentleman," Doc interrupted, "I have completed my preliminary assessment." "Good." The Capt'n swiveled around in his seat. "Let's hear it." "The water here is very salty, over fifteen percent salt. So, more correctly, it should be called brine. A good comparison is earth's oceans are only about three percent salt. This has a high calcium and magnesium content, which is probably due to all the volcanic activity here. The life form does appear to be the larval form of some kind of crustacean or perhaps arthropod." Ted interrupted with a snicker, "Brine shrimp!" Mike elbowed him in the ribs, but couldn't help laughing quietly at the pun. Ted stifled his cackles and kept an eye on the Capt'n for signs of trouble. Too much horsing around would land them both on the K.P. list. He cracked himself up with that one, and chuckled softly as he considered how they all depended on him to not only steer the ship, but make their meals as well. Ignoring them, Doc continued, "It's dead, and probably was long before the droid gathered the sample. Since it appears larval, I can only speculate how large an adult might be, or what it would look like. Probably something similar to a lobster or prawn." Ted rolled his eyes then whispered in Mike's ear. "Told ya. Brine shrimp." Mike whispered back, "At least that wasn't an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp." "Well, we don't know that yet, they might be jumbo brine shrimp." Doc cleared his throat. "As for the seaweed, there is a collection of salt nodules at the base, as if it somehow filters salts from the water and uses it to anchor its self to the rock. Also, it contains a lot of oil. That's all I've got right now, I'll give a full report later. Gentleman, we have officially confirmed life and higher life forms on this planet." Ted held his hand overhead and Mike smacked it. "All Right!" "That's great, Doc," Capt'n said. "When you're finished, put it on disc so we can send it right away." Shaking his head he added, "Man! Earth has to wait eight years for the news, and it only took us a couple days!" "Time sure flies when your having fun!" Ted said. Mike groaned. "Man, that was bad." "Let's get busy crew, you know the drill." Capt'n Bill turned to the main console and Ted stuck his tongue out. Since the Capt'n was facing him, Mike had to keep a straight face. It was easy once he saw the flashing red indicator light for the magno drive. "Mike, get down to the propulsion room, ASAP. I'm showing an unstable ion converter." "Aye, Capt'n," he said and shot Ted a cautionary glance. As he got closer to the engine compartment, he could feel the temperature climbing. Once inside, he found the ion converter and the main anode were producing a lot of heat. The thick smell of ozone hung heavy in the bay. Mike buzzed the Capt'n on the COM. "Capt'n, we have a major problem down here. That converter is overheating the main and we'll need to replace it. I need Ted's help down here right away." The COM beeped back, "Ted's on his way. Ted arrived at the hatchway and asked, "What's up?" Pointing to the converter, Mike said, "I'm gonna check it with the particle meter, but I think we'll have to pull that converter before it fries the main." The converter was a six-foot tall metal wafer with an internal honeycomb filled with an ion generating solution. It produced the negative ions needed to power the magno drive and many of the systems on the ship. The heat was searing, and Mike got as close as he dared with the particle meter. "Damn! It is over-producing and overheating the anode because of the excessive bombardment of ions." He called Capt'n Bill on the COM. "It's pretty hot down here, but once the converter is pulled, the primary anode should cool off." "Any idea what caused it? Any serious damage?" asked the Capt'n. "Both unknown at this point. I won't know until I test the converter. Out." Ted said, "I'll take the support ring, you get the guide tool." Ted stabilized the support ring, while Mike stood on the platform and gently eased the wafer out with the guide. The heat was tremendous as they cautiously pulled it further from its housing. Sweat stung his eyes and he could feel it running down his armpit in tickley streams. "It's gotta be over one-hundred fifty degrees in here," Ted groaned, "I'm cooking down here." It was three quarters of the way out. Mike glanced down at Ted, then let it out a bit more. As if made of melting wax, the support ring suddenly sagged, weakened by the heat. Mike hollered for Ted to watch out, but it was too late. The wafer snapped through its center and spilled boiling solution over him. Ted screamed and tried to shield his head and face with his arms. Steam billowed around him and vapors rose from his scalded body. Mike let go of the guide and lunged for Ted, hoping to knock him out of the way of the scalding stream. They tumbled the full length of the bay then came to a rest against the far wall. Shaking with fear for his friend, Mike carefully lifted Ted's limp body and carried him out of the steaming compartment. Although in pain, Mike had escaped with only light scalds on one arm and a large, blistered swath across his back where he had caught part of the stream. When he got to Sick Bay, he waved off Doc and made it clear he wanted Ted attended to first. Later, after Doc examined and treated his burns, Ted lay in his bunk, sedated, bundled in the protective sleeve of the medical droid. Although his face had been spared, both his arms were seriously scalded, as was his neck and chest. His legs had suffered first and second degree burns. Worried about Ted, Mike stayed by his bedside until Doc got back from reporting to Capt'n. "Is he going to be okay?" "Yes. The tissue repair will take a few days, but he'll be fine. I'll keep him sedated, though. He's in a lot of pain." He knew he had to be, his arm and back felt like they were on fire. After Doc had the secondary med unit relieve some of the pain, he found him fit for duty. Now the big job would begin. He went back down to the engine room to assess the damage. It was a mess. He grabbed the COM mike with a shaking hand. "Pretty bad down here, Capt'n. I'll have to do some major cleanup." "What's the damage?" Capt'n asked. "The housing for the converter is ruined, and it looks like the anode may have been damaged by the heat. I think two other converters were affected by the heat, too, but I won't be able to start any repairs until I get this mess cleaned up." "Damn!" The COM crackled with a noisy sigh from the Capt'n. "Okay. Do whatever is necessary, I'll check back later to see how it's going." "Right. Out." It took most of the night to clean the engine compartment, the eerie howling of the wind overhead reminding him of how isolated they were. When he got the worst of the mess cleared, it was worse than he first thought. Trying to sound more confident than he felt, he buzzed the Capt'n just after sunrise to give him the bad news. "Sir. The power generator for the propulsion system is shot and the anode is cracked. It needs major repairs," he paused, hoping, maybe praying there would be another way, "repairs that are impossible to perform here without more specialized equipment." "Don't we have replacement parts?" "Yes, but not what we need. This is bigger than just replacing a crisped converter." "What are you telling me?" "We're grounded, Sir. The magno drive is completely down, and the power for most of the systems is gone." His back hurt like hell as he came up for breakfast. The Capt'n didn't say a thing to him. After he talked to Doc, he just looked at the video of the waves crashing down on the beach. It was something they knew was a risk when they accepted the mission. Maybe that's why they only chose men without families or living relatives. Regardless, nothing could have prepared him for being stuck on a violent planet eight years from home. After he ate, he let the medic droid do its magic on his blisters and the pain eased. Doc buzzed the COM. "Capt'n, Mike, come down to the lab, I've completed testing." Maybe he had better news. "The life form is definitely a type of crustacean, and it contains no toxic compounds. If we can collect a mature specimen, and it, too, proves to be non-poisonous, we may have a fresh food source. Also, the seaweed is similar to edible varieties on earth, although much richer, the oil it contains is comparable in composition to monosaturates. The bad news is, the main power generator for the water recycling system is gone, and there isn't a reliable source of fresh water. The storms are too brief, so rainwater really isn't an option. However, with Mike's help, I can make a reverse osmosis system that can furnish a fair supply from salt water. My suggestion is to concentrate our efforts on the ocean." "What about the land?" Mike asked. "It's absolutely barren. Just volcanic rock and salt formations. Life, here, is in the water only. Nothing survives in the air." "Except us, I hope," said Capt'n. As he readied a message buoy to send the somber news and request a rescue ship, Mike wondered if they could survive that long. "Great," he mumbled to himself as he finished programming the buoy, "we've got sixteen years to twiddle our thumbs." When including the coordinates, he described their location as Poseidon's Pitchfork. After helping Doc set up the reverse osmosis system, he checked on Ted. Still sound asleep. He really missed the guy's bad puns and silliness. Having someone around that doesn't take life so seriously made even a bad situation tolerable. Right now he could use some of Ted humor. Doc buzzed him on the COM. He wanted more samples. On its second trip out, the droid broke down because of salt corrosion. Mike volunteered to get it. Why not? There was nothing to do inside but twiddle his thumbs for sixteen years. Poor Ted would be in the isolation room hooked up to the medical droid for a few more days, and Mike was getting twitchy. There was only so much time you could spend onboard ship without something to do before you got cabin fever. Although the air outside was breathable, Doc made him wear an ISO Suit. It struck him as funny that Doc was still concerned about possible infection from unknown organisms. Wiggling and squirming to get into the bulky suit, Mike glanced at Doc. "Man, this makes me feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy." Doc just shook his head, fastened the re-breather hose and pointed him toward the airlock. Walking toward the oceans edge, Mike could almost smell the salt air. The walls of black rock on either side seemed like silent watchtowers observing his clumsy stroll on the beach. The droid stood, frozen in mid-scoop after being struck by a wave, buried halfway up its treaded base in the sand. After he snapped a retrieval leash to it, he began the lumbering return to LSI. A glance back at the swelling tide stopped him. Something like the swim bladder of a Portuguese Man-o-War bobbed in the surf. It was round, and the sunlight caused silvery rainbows to shimmer across its surface. He stood there for a moment, watching it bob up and down, then it sunk back into the wave. Excited, he turned toward the ship, and, as quickly as the suit would let him, Mike hustled back, the droid bumping along over the sand. Back inside, Mike excitedly described what he saw to Doc. Without waiting to hear what he had to say, he ran down to the supply room and devised a makeshift fishing pole from a cannibalized optical conduit. He found a small grappling hook in the equipment closet. A metal file worked to hone its edges, and once satisfied with its sharpness, he tied it to the pole with a thin, synthetic rope. At the airlock he announced. "I'm goin' fishin', and without that damn suit!" Capt'n Bill must have noticed Doc scowling at him for going without the suit. "There's a whole new world out there, Doc, and to stay alive, we've got to be able explore it. Mike's right, he doesn't need a suit, it'll just get in the way." Doc nodded slowly. "Okay, no suit. I'll work on something you can use as an oxygen supply on future outings. Just remember, the oxygen content is low. Don't over-exert yourself or you'll pass out." "Gotcha!" he said, happy to be doing something constructive, and possibly fun. "I still need to examine anything you find, and keep specimens in stasis for the trip home," Doc warned. "So, anything you catch is for study. Try to get it to me alive if you can. Got it?" "Gotcha! Gotcha!" Mike said, and bolted for the hatch before the Doc gave him something else to do. As the hatch opened, he got a whiff of the air. It was salty and had a strong, sulfurous odor. "Phew, should have named this place Flatulent Fork." Wrinkling his nose, he waved his hand in front of his face, but it didn't do any good. Walking down to the water, the sun felt warm and the sound of the waves was familiar and soothing. Mike began to feel better, less tense and sang, "My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea..." The song echoed off the cliffs surrounding him. His baritone voice quickly slacked off as the thin air stole his breath. As he leaned on his knees to catch it, he looked back toward the spherical ship. It would really be great when Ted was well enough so they could go fishing together. Mike watched the waves, scanning every crest for signs of the bubble he saw before. Finally, as the twin suns were low on the horizon, a glistening sphere rose gently in a wave. Excited, he flung the hook at it, and snagged it on his first attempt. Heart pounding, he pulled the line in, grinning like a fool. It came to rest on the sand at his feet, the jelly-like bubble punctured, water pouring out in a dwindling stream. Anxious to see his catch, but mindful that Doc wanted live specimens, he decided to take it back to the ship first and examine it there. Scooping it into the bucket he brought along, he walked briskly back to the ship. When he arrived, Mike found himself completely out of breath. Doc had been correct to warn him about the low oxygen level. Light-headed, little black dots swirled in front of his eyes. It seemed like someone far off was wheezing, and it took a moment for him to realize it was him. He sat down in the airlock after the hatch closed to catch his breath. Doc arrived with an oxygen mask, and soon he felt better. They stared into the bucket. The bubble, or bladder as Doc called it, had collapsed, and an animal about the size of a big chicken lay inside, gasping. It resembled the tiny crustacean, pink with a broad curved tail like a lobster, but it had no hard shell like the larva. The forepart had only a small band of shell where four, eight-segmented arms protruded. One had a large claw-like appendage, the rest ended in three tiny, two jointed fingers. The head protruded directly from the body, and resembled a catfish, with a wide mouth and long filamentous whiskers. It's eyes were black with a rectangular, gold pupil, and rolled as it choked out its last breath. "Wow!" Mike grinned. "You caught a whopper, Mike," said Capt'n Bill over Doc's shoulder. "What do you think, Doc?" "Looks a lot like the larva. I'll test it for toxins and put the information on disc. "How's Ted?" Mike asked. He really missed his buddy, and wished he were there to celebrate. "Better, but still in a lot of pain. I put him out again after he ate. It'll be a few days yet before he can go with you," said Doc, and patted him on the shoulder. His back was beginning to ache again, so he took a trip down to the unit. As Doc had said, Ted was out of it. Although the medical droid was doing a good job on him and he didn't look as bad, his arms were still lumpy from the blisters. He knew how painful his were, Ted must have been in agony. When he returned topside, Doc filled him and the Capt'n in on his examination of the creature. "The DNA structure is identical to the larva, proving it to be an adult specimen. The animal was unable to tolerate any exposure to the air, or, in some way, the air is poisonous to it and it expired shortly after I got it to the lab. Further testing showed, however, that it is not toxic, and most certainly can be eaten. It is high in protein with very little fat, and has a high calcium content." Proud that he discovered something they could eat, he said, "Hey, my brine shrimp is steak and a glass of skim milk all in one!" This time it was Doc's turn to groan. Returning to the shore the next day, regretfully in the Doughboy suit, Mike managed to snag two more creatures, and pulled up a mass of seaweed when the grappling hook drug the bottom. Triumphantly, he returned to the ship, his bucket full. In the galley, he cooked the creatures, and included a bunch of seaweed for seasoning. Tentatively at first, he tasted the creature's flesh. It was firm, and sweet, and tasted somewhat like a combination of lobster and crab in a delicious butter sauce. The seaweed was slightly salty and had the same buttery taste. After they finished off one, they got halfway through the second before hitting full. "Man, that's good eatin', and I even liked the butter weed," Mike said, patting my stomach. Doc seemed content and picked his teeth with a toothpick. "I have to agree." "Looks like we won't have to live on freeze-dried meals," Capt'n Bill said with a burp, "But we may get sick of your brine shrimp by the time the rescue ship arrives." "Never," Mike said. "I'm saving this for Ted when he wakes up," he pointed to the remains of the second 'shrimp', "he deserves some." The next day he caught a different creature, a streamlined fish with huge, scimitar shaped teeth. Resembling a shark, it was six feet long, and put up a terrible fight. Mike was glad Doc had devised a breathing apparatus for him. Much to Mike's relief, it supplied just enough oxygen to maintain an adequate blood concentration, and it could be increased if he did anything demanding. Fighting the shark had been very strenuous, and Mike felt light-headed and out of breath even with the oxygen turned up all the way. Mike sat on the sand and caught his breath as he admired his catch. "You are one ugly critter! There ain't no way I'm swimmin' in these waters," he said to the fish as it gnashed its teeth and struggled on the sand. It quickly gasped out its last breath, and he drug it back to the ship. Later, Doc dissected it and established it as a predator. Now why he had to determine that was up for conjecture. With that set of teeth, Mike thought it was pretty obvious. "Wow, really?" Doc didn't seem to appreciate the remark much, and ignored him. It aggravated him to find out it had been feeding on the shrimp. In its stomach were the remains of a dozen adults, and easily twice that many larvae. Capt'n Bill congratulated him on killing something that could potentially destroy their fresh food supply. The mess hall food was okay, just not as palatable as fresh shrimp and seaweed. After that, and for the rest of the first week, Mike invariably snagged one or two of the shrimp each day. There were no more sharks, but Mike was sure there were more out there. Ted was up and sitting in the mess hall. "I sure am glad to see you," Mike said and plopped his catch on the floor next to him. "Want to go fishing tomorrow?" "You bet." Doc scowled over his chart. "As long as you promise not to overdo." "Yes, Mother." Ted rolled his eyes and Doc gave a disgusted grunt and went back to his work. Mike was so glad he had his buddy back. The fact that he was well enough to go fishing was great news. Even with Ted casting, they still were only able to catch one or two shrimp each day. But why be greedy? That was plenty for the four of them. Figuring out different ways to cook them would be a bigger challenge, but Mike had enough skill in the kitchen to whip up some tasty meals. "Tell me how you landed the shark," Ted asked for the umpteenth time. Almost every day he talked about that darn shark. He seemed fascinated by the story of how he caught it. "Don't you ever get tired of hearing it?" "Heck no. That was one ugly beast, must have scared the stuffing out of you when you pulled it out of the water." Seeing such a ferocious looking creature in the stasis tube was scary enough, but knowing live ones lurked just offshore was terrifying. Mike told the tale one more time as the suns dipped just above the massive waves. "Just look at the size of the swells out there." "Yeah, surfs up and me without a surfboard," Ted sighed. That night, Mike made a trip to the supply cabinet, then snuck out and erected a "No Surfing" sign near the point where the waves ended their attack of the beach. As they strolled down for their morning casting for shrimp, Ted noticed the sign and burst out laughing. Mike patted his shoulder. "Guess you'll have to be happy with fishing." "Yeah, guess so. But, I swear, I'll catch a bigger one, just watch my style." In his hand was a larger, more substantial fishing pole and hook apparatus he rigged from cannibalized parts of the ship. "Just don't be telling tales of the one that got away." Ted smirked and heaved his line into the surf. The next five days were spent in a futile quest for the Vermicious Knid, as Ted dubbed the sharks. Although they caught their quota of shrimp, not once did they get even a faint glimpse of the predator. Mike considered that it might have just been a fluke, a beast rarely seen this close to shore. The next day started with a quick breakfast, then down to the shore for fishing. Mike had pretty much given up on catching a Knid. Then Ted hooked one. Even in the thin air, he was able to let out a whoop that made his ears buzz. Ted struggled up and down the beach for nearly fourty-five minutes before relinquishing the pole to Mike. He did about the same, and after two more trades, they finally landed the beast. Completely exhausted, Mike flopped on the sand, Ted right next to him. A noise behind him turned out to be Capt'n Bill. "You two have been gone for three hours. I came to see what was going on." All Mike could do was point, talking was impossible. Lolling at the edge of the surf was Ted's knid. A gigantic animal, probably twenty feet long. The eel-like skin glistened in the sunlight like liquid steel. How they managed to keep it on the hook, much less land it, Mike didn't know. It seemed a Herculean feat worthy of the record books. Mike raised a shaky hand and clapped Ted on the back. As he watched it quickly die in the air, he wondered why the animals were so fragile. Doc had followed Capt'n down to the shore and once sure it was dead, cautiously examined it. Mike figured the teeth were about eight inches long. His skin crawled as he peered at them. They looked sharp enough to cut through just about anything. As Doc cut open its belly, dozens of adult shrimp and an uncountable number of larvae tumbled onto the sand. This monster could really do some damage. Finally able to speak, Mike posed a question to Doc. "Could it be these animals are poisoned by something in the atmosphere that doesn't bother us? Look at that big animal. It hasn't been out of the water five minutes, and it's already dead." "Quite possibly. Perhaps the excess sulfur or methane in the air. I found only tiny amounts in the water samples, and relatively none in the plants or shrimp." "Men, why don't you stand by your catch. I'd like a picture to send back home." Capt'n Bill had a camera in his hand and motioned for them to pose by the knid. With their toothy leviathan stretched across the beach, Mike took his place at one end, Ted at the other, arms extended. The picture was proof that the knid was twenty feet long. Ted boasted, "My knid is bigger than your knid." "This time, just you wait until I catch the next one." His challenge started a kind of 'knid derby' between them. Two days later, he landed one about the size of the first, but Ted outdid him again. A week after, a picture of Ted flexing in front of a twelve-footer graced the mess hall. Although neither one was close to the size of the monster both of them helped land, Mike felt there must be a lot more of the big ones out there. "There are no toxins in the flesh, so you might try your culinary skills on one to see if we can add another fresh source of meat to our diet," Doc said. He tried to cook a filet of the dark gray flesh, but discovered it tasted too fishy, with a nasty, bitter undertone. It was quickly, and unanimously rejected as a potential food source. They were, however, a terrific sport fish, jumping and thrashing like tarpons. Mike couldn't resist the excitement, and took Ted down to the beach every chance he got. His excuse to Doc and the Capt'n for the lengthy knid fishing trips was "To protect our 'Brinys'. The knid teeth, once removed from their incredibly hard jaws, made impressive necklaces. With a little work, Mike found the dried skins were tough enough to use as leather. He grinned as he looked over the pictures Capt'n Bill had taken and created a sort of "Rogue's Gallery" in the mess hall. Ted with his most recent knid; the monster; Mike standing on the beach pointing to the "No Surfing" sign; and the latest picture, him and Ted wearing their toothsome jewelry and knid-leather fishing hats. Near the bottom was a picture of Mike's last catch, a fifteen-foot knid he had wrestled to the beach all by himself, lay on the sand at his feet. Scanning the photos, Mike included them with an update of their progress on E III. He sent the message buoy, feeling its news was both hopeful and reassuring. Poseidon's Point had become their home away from home. Better, actually. They had a sixteen-year vacation with nothing to do all day but go fishin'. *** Tulag swam over to Veepa and gave her a tender kiss goodbye. As he wiggled into the protection sphere that allowed him to look out into the Deadly Ether, she stayed close by, sadness in her eyes, her whiskers stroked the jelly-like surface, trembling with emotion. "I love you, Tulag," she said. "I will always remember you. Our children will never forget their brave father, nor the siblings lost to tzuk attacks." Blowing her a kiss, he began his accent. He had been chosen, and it was a great honor. Offerings were required for the Gods of the Ether to come from their protection sphere and kill the giant tzuks that constantly devastated their villages, killing hundreds, sometimes thousands every day. He was honored to be giving his life so that many more would be saved. Tulag looked upward as the surface neared, and smiled. --end- © 2000 Sharen Nehoda Back to FMTM
SYMBIOSIS
Launch day. Mike calmed his nerves as he gazed over the some five hundred thousand people that had squeezed their way onto the viewing area of the John Wayne Space Center in Dallas. He understood their curiosity, their need to watch the take off of Life Surveyor I. It was the beginning of an ambitious, and dangerous, mission into deep space. LSI stood, a quiet spot in a human storm, like a giant, silver marble in the hot Texas sun.
The distant sounds of the Marine Band playing 'Anchors Away' carried over his headset as Mike activated the low range magno drive. A low, loud bong signaled their rise into the air. Wild applause exploded from the crowd, crackly in Mike's ears, as they hovered at two thousand feet. Captain Holmes gave Mike a nod, and he punched in the high range drive. With a thundering boom, the drive's magnetic reversal kicked them out of orbit.
Inside LSI, Capt'n Bill busily scanned telemetry, watching for pieces of space debris. Their propulsion by electromagnetic reversal created a force field he could extend to repel objects, and Mike was glad it gave the Capt'n something to do while he and Ted directed the ship to deep space.
Ted, the navigator, said from behind his console, "Time to look out the window, mates, the sun is rising on our port bow."
The port video displayed a filtered picture of their passage by Sol. Special optics gave an impressive view of a large solar flare with two smaller eruptions bubbling on the surface like burnished gold in swirling lava. The picture lasted less than two seconds as they zipped past, so Ted replayed it from the optical library disc at a slower speed.
"Wadda sight, eh maties, all that gold?"
Ted spoke in a pirate's voice and rubbed his hands together greedily. Mike groaned, making Ted laugh.
The medical officer and biological specialist, Doctor Steven Porter, Doc to all onboard, compared information on three different display readouts. Mike didn't like the way he was frowning.
"Would one of you two check the figures for the ship's gravitational system. We seem to be running... a little light."
He flipped his stylus into the air where it did two lazy somersaults before settling slowly to the floor.
"See?"
Mike shrugged as he scanned the console. "Everything checks out normal here, Doc."
Capt'n Bill leaned over his shoulder. "He's right, everything is top dead center. What do you think is causing that?"
A puzzled look crossed Doc's face as he checked the readouts himself, and then flipped the stylus again. With another frown, he jumped. As if in slow motion, he drifted, then settled a few inches back from his starting position.
"Hmmm. Doppler effect, perhaps. The eggheads probably didn't consider we would be outside the influence of the gravitational effect of our solar system, and traveling faster than the speed of light. Probably nothing to worry about, just something to get used to."
"Oh, yeah?" Ted's voice sounded excited as he pointed at the central control panel, "look at the time!"
"Holy shit!" Mike said. The digital time display was spinning so fast he was unable to read it.
"Doppler effect?" Capt'n Bill scratched his head. "Even Einstein would be confounded by this. Who could guess how speeds faster than light might affect time?" He turned to Mike. "After you get Doc's figures, send a message buoy to earth with our findings."
Mike glanced up at the video display. Rainbow streaks of light where the stars whizzed by gave him goose bumps. "Want me to include a video of this?"
"Yes."
"How much time has elapsed?" Doc asked.
"About three freakin' years!"
Ted's eyebrows were pulled up so high on his forehead they almost touched his hairline. Mike couldn't help smiling at his astonishment. They all knew this was an experimental journey, and with this new propulsion system, anything was possible.
"By my own reckoning," Doc said, "we've been traveling about three hours, relative time. So, if that is true, in another five hours we'll be approaching the QL28 system."
Mike realized his mouth was hanging open and probably looked as shocked as Ted. He closed it with a snap and ran a hand through his hair. "This mission was supposed to last at least sixteen years."
Doc had finished his calculations for the message to earth and looked first at the Capt'n, then Mike and Ted. Mike wasn't sure what to make of his expression, almost a mixture of joy and fear.
"I guess we lucked out. The eight-year trip to QL28 has been reduced to about eight hours. For us, anyway."
"Hey," said Ted. "I could get into magno travel. Hell, I don't even need a shave!" He rubbed his chin, and screwed up his mouth comically.
Maybe he could joke about it, but as pilot, Mike could only guess at how they were going to stop this wild ride. The reverse process was supposed to brake them on entry into the system, theoretically, that is. But, going this fast, what if it couldn't?
"And," Ted continued, "my twenty-four hour deodorant is good for years!"
"Okay, crew," Capt'n Bill said, holding up his hands, "Let's regroup. We all knew the risks when we volunteered for this mission. The logistics of the flight may have changed, but not the mission. Let's concentrate on the upcoming procedures, by the book. I want full reports on all systems right now."
"You mean yesterday," Doc said with a wry grin.
Mike was relieved when the long braking ellipse into the QL28 system went according to plan. On the approach to the second planet, a problem with the droid probe prevented him from retrieving physical data. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip as he slowed to low range propulsion. Panning the external video got back some fantastic pictures of its meteor-blasted surface.
The third planet, designated E III, was the pivot point for the return leg, and the second on the list to set down on. It had three large, dark gray landmasses and an icecap, all surrounded by a huge, blue ocean. White clouds swirled in its atmosphere.
"Ooo, look!" Ted said, "a horsey." He zoomed in on the crashing waves. "Hell, I forgot my surfboard." Mike poked him in the arm when the Capt'n looked at him and frowned.
Water wasn't a new discovery in space, it had been discovered on Mars years before. But, life hadn't been found anywhere in the known galaxy. Besides testing the magno drive, that was their mission and the QL28 system with its twin suns held the most promise.
On the braking ellipses around M XI, the fourth planet in the QL28 system and the first scheduled stop, Doc, Ted and Mike crowded around the view port. The planet was capped by polar ice, had two large seas of sluggish turquoise, and land covered in varying shades of green. Unmistakable life.
With more than a little excitement, Mike further slowed the ship as Ted updated the optical library discs that recorded the visual findings of the first documented life in space.
"The scanners show no trees or upright plants of any kind," Doc said, "and no indications of animal life. The whole planet appears to be covered by some form of moss or lichen, even the oceans."
Ted peered over Mike's shoulder as he gazed at the green landscape. Soon all their faces were plastered to the domed glass viewing port. The land varied from flat, to hilly, to mountainous, all covered in green. Endless, boring green.
Ted whispered, "Is it ripe yet?"
Mike stole a quick peek at the Capt'n, who was frowning, and elbowed Ted. "The boss is watching," he whispered.
"Looks like a droid probe will be necessary," Capt'n Bill said. "Mike, are you set to launch?"
Nodding, Mike set the droid loose and monitored it as it settled to the surface. Below, an erupting volcano spewed orange and yellow rivulets. Descending to one thousand feet, he kept a safe distance between the ship and the mountain. Magma poured from its broken top, rolled down its side and over the verdant landscape. The contrast of colors, red, yellow, gray and black broke the monotony of green. He watched the steaming river cool, turning to black as it hardened. The lichen, or whatever it was, seemed to creep up and over the lava and covered it completely in less than five minutes.
"Now, that's mold with a purpose," said Ted.
Worried, Mike looked at Doc for an explanation.
"We should wait for the results from the droid probe, but I don't believe it will be wise to set down here," Doc said. "Although the lichen seems to be a simple organism, there is no doubt in my mind that it would cover us just as quickly as it did the lava."
Ted nodded his agreement with vigor. Having envisioned being infected with a voracious form of athlete's foot, Mike was relieved they wouldn't be landing soon, if ever.
"I agree," said Capt'n Bill. "The probe probably won't give us complete information, but hopefully will last long enough to confirm the presence of life. Ted, are we vectored for orbit."
"Aye, Cap'n." Ted imitated a Scottish brogue.
"Mike, take us back up to two thousand."
"Aye, Cap'n," he said, imitating Ted.
Twenty minutes later, Doc scanned the results the probe sent before its transmission abruptly ended.
"Just as I suspected. Mostly single celled, and although plant-like, it has some vaguely animal qualities." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We have found life, gentlemen, the problem is it won't be anything we can talk to for a few million years."
"Primordial ooze," Ted said slowly, wrinkling up his nose.
"No, past that I think," said Doc, "but not far from it."
The return leg brought them back to E III, and Mike hoped it offered something more than ravenous slime. Now more confident of the power of the ship, he descended toward the surface. At two thousand feet, he put LSI in slow orbit around the planet. The surface of E III seemed hostile and brutal. Barren landmasses from some violent seismic event and a pounding ocean seemed devoid of life. The readouts jumped wildly as the atmosphere was struck by sudden, typhoon-like storm that raged then abruptly died. The ocean mercilessly battered the sheer cliffs lining the shoreline with awesome waves, some well over fifty feet high. Ted started singing "Sufin' Safari" but trailed off when Capt'n Bill scowled at him.
"Doc, I don't see any technical reason not to set down, any readings that would indicate a biological reason?" Capt'n Bill asked.
"No, but meteorological the place is pretty unstable. Storms are born and die in an instant and can be pretty violent. I just clocked a wind speed of two hundred sixty miles per hour."
Mike whistled. "That's as fast as a tornado."
"Only these are straight winds," Doc said.
"Well, blow me down," Ted piped and chuckled like Popeye.
Mike bit the inside of his cheek, trying hard not to laugh. The Capt'n looked blandly past Ted at the console, then rubbed his chin.
"Ted, look for a secluded area, preferably near the ocean. If there's life here, that's where it will be." He pointed to the monitor showing the powerful waves.
On their fourth orbit, using the Navcom's topography scanner, Ted found a spot on the eastern shore of the largest land mass. From the air, it looked like a giant trident poking out into the water.
"Let's name it Poseidon's Point." Mike's suggestion seemed agreeable to all. With none of the fanfare of their departure, he settled them into a well-protected cove between two of Poseidon's blades. Each towering mass of stone extended nearly two miles to the water's edge. Ted had found a good spot. The audio picked up the brutal winds as they whistled high overhead, but the velocity gauge only showed a light breeze where they were. None of the treacherous waves could reach them, either. They broke half way up the beach.
"Atmospheric gas content shows the oxygen level is low, fifteen point eight percent, but breathable. The high nitrogen and carbon dioxide indicate volcanic activity, so do the sulfur and methane levels, but they're too low to be toxic," Doc said, scanning the computer readout. "There are a lot of salts here, very high levels. The air analysis indicates virtually no bacterial contaminant, although there are organic compounds present. I need samples."
A robot droid trundled out to collect specimens. Mike watch it scoot over the grainy surface, stop and scoop a sample, then continue down to the water's edge. He held his breath as a wave grew threatening, then crashed just feet from the droid. Water washed around the treads, but didn't upset it. With a slow sweep, it collected a specimen from the water. He could sense the excitement as it returned.
Following strict quarantine, Doc had the droid place the samples in the Hot Box. With consummate care, he slipped his hands into the long rubber gloves and began reviewing the contents.
"My God! Look here. There's a stalk of some sort of reddish-green seaweed clinging to this rock."
The Capt'n stepped closer, and Mike had to stand on tiptoe between him and Ted to get a look. If he hadn't known it was from another planet, he's have thought it was just another hunk of the stinky stuff that washed up on the beach back home.
"Life seems to be a bit more evolved here." The Capt'n clapped Doc on the shoulder. "Anything else?"
Doc's mouth was hanging open. Mike had to stifle a laugh. He's never seen the Doc look anything but professional, but there he was, gaping like an astonished schoolboy seeing his first girly magazine. He had the water sample in his hand, and suddenly he realized why Doc looked so shocked. There was a tiny crustacean floating in it.
"Yee-ha!"
Ted nearly busted his eardrum. Mike gave him another poke and he just laughed.
"What do you make of that?" The Capt'n peered at the vial, brow creased.
"Some sort of crustacean, but I'll need to run tests first. I'll give you a report after I have a chance to study all the specimens."
While Doc began meticulously testing the samples, Mike went back to the console to check the readings outside. Little change from when they first landed. That was good. For now they were safe, but who knew what the night would bring. Ted was horsing around with the video taking shots of the waves as they rolled in.
"Man, I am serious here. I should have brought my surfboard, those waves are bitchin'."
"Yeah, sure. You probably would be eaten by the Great Granddaddy of Moby Dick."
"Gentleman," Doc interrupted, "I have completed my preliminary assessment."
"Good." The Capt'n swiveled around in his seat. "Let's hear it."
"The water here is very salty, over fifteen percent salt. So, more correctly, it should be called brine. A good comparison is earth's oceans are only about three percent salt. This has a high calcium and magnesium content, which is probably due to all the volcanic activity here. The life form does appear to be the larval form of some kind of crustacean or perhaps arthropod."
Ted interrupted with a snicker, "Brine shrimp!"
Mike elbowed him in the ribs, but couldn't help laughing quietly at the pun. Ted stifled his cackles and kept an eye on the Capt'n for signs of trouble. Too much horsing around would land them both on the K.P. list. He cracked himself up with that one, and chuckled softly as he considered how they all depended on him to not only steer the ship, but make their meals as well.
Ignoring them, Doc continued, "It's dead, and probably was long before the droid gathered the sample. Since it appears larval, I can only speculate how large an adult might be, or what it would look like. Probably something similar to a lobster or prawn."
Ted rolled his eyes then whispered in Mike's ear. "Told ya. Brine shrimp."
Mike whispered back, "At least that wasn't an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp."
"Well, we don't know that yet, they might be jumbo brine shrimp."
Doc cleared his throat. "As for the seaweed, there is a collection of salt nodules at the base, as if it somehow filters salts from the water and uses it to anchor its self to the rock. Also, it contains a lot of oil. That's all I've got right now, I'll give a full report later. Gentleman, we have officially confirmed life and higher life forms on this planet."
Ted held his hand overhead and Mike smacked it. "All Right!"
"That's great, Doc," Capt'n said. "When you're finished, put it on disc so we can send it right away." Shaking his head he added, "Man! Earth has to wait eight years for the news, and it only took us a couple days!"
"Time sure flies when your having fun!" Ted said.
Mike groaned. "Man, that was bad."
"Let's get busy crew, you know the drill."
Capt'n Bill turned to the main console and Ted stuck his tongue out. Since the Capt'n was facing him, Mike had to keep a straight face. It was easy once he saw the flashing red indicator light for the magno drive.
"Mike, get down to the propulsion room, ASAP. I'm showing an unstable ion converter."
"Aye, Capt'n," he said and shot Ted a cautionary glance.
As he got closer to the engine compartment, he could feel the temperature climbing. Once inside, he found the ion converter and the main anode were producing a lot of heat. The thick smell of ozone hung heavy in the bay. Mike buzzed the Capt'n on the COM.
"Capt'n, we have a major problem down here. That converter is overheating the main and we'll need to replace it. I need Ted's help down here right away."
The COM beeped back, "Ted's on his way.
Ted arrived at the hatchway and asked, "What's up?"
Pointing to the converter, Mike said, "I'm gonna check it with the particle meter, but I think we'll have to pull that converter before it fries the main."
The converter was a six-foot tall metal wafer with an internal honeycomb filled with an ion generating solution. It produced the negative ions needed to power the magno drive and many of the systems on the ship.
The heat was searing, and Mike got as close as he dared with the particle meter. "Damn! It is over-producing and overheating the anode because of the excessive bombardment of ions."
He called Capt'n Bill on the COM. "It's pretty hot down here, but once the converter is pulled, the primary anode should cool off."
"Any idea what caused it? Any serious damage?" asked the Capt'n.
"Both unknown at this point. I won't know until I test the converter. Out."
Ted said, "I'll take the support ring, you get the guide tool."
Ted stabilized the support ring, while Mike stood on the platform and gently eased the wafer out with the guide. The heat was tremendous as they cautiously pulled it further from its housing. Sweat stung his eyes and he could feel it running down his armpit in tickley streams.
"It's gotta be over one-hundred fifty degrees in here," Ted groaned, "I'm cooking down here."
It was three quarters of the way out. Mike glanced down at Ted, then let it out a bit more. As if made of melting wax, the support ring suddenly sagged, weakened by the heat. Mike hollered for Ted to watch out, but it was too late. The wafer snapped through its center and spilled boiling solution over him.
Ted screamed and tried to shield his head and face with his arms. Steam billowed around him and vapors rose from his scalded body. Mike let go of the guide and lunged for Ted, hoping to knock him out of the way of the scalding stream. They tumbled the full length of the bay then came to a rest against the far wall. Shaking with fear for his friend, Mike carefully lifted Ted's limp body and carried him out of the steaming compartment.
Although in pain, Mike had escaped with only light scalds on one arm and a large, blistered swath across his back where he had caught part of the stream. When he got to Sick Bay, he waved off Doc and made it clear he wanted Ted attended to first.
Later, after Doc examined and treated his burns, Ted lay in his bunk, sedated, bundled in the protective sleeve of the medical droid. Although his face had been spared, both his arms were seriously scalded, as was his neck and chest. His legs had suffered first and second degree burns.
Worried about Ted, Mike stayed by his bedside until Doc got back from reporting to Capt'n. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Yes. The tissue repair will take a few days, but he'll be fine. I'll keep him sedated, though. He's in a lot of pain."
He knew he had to be, his arm and back felt like they were on fire. After Doc had the secondary med unit relieve some of the pain, he found him fit for duty. Now the big job would begin. He went back down to the engine room to assess the damage. It was a mess.
He grabbed the COM mike with a shaking hand. "Pretty bad down here, Capt'n. I'll have to do some major cleanup."
"What's the damage?" Capt'n asked.
"The housing for the converter is ruined, and it looks like the anode may have been damaged by the heat. I think two other converters were affected by the heat, too, but I won't be able to start any repairs until I get this mess cleaned up."
"Damn!" The COM crackled with a noisy sigh from the Capt'n. "Okay. Do whatever is necessary, I'll check back later to see how it's going."
"Right. Out."
It took most of the night to clean the engine compartment, the eerie howling of the wind overhead reminding him of how isolated they were. When he got the worst of the mess cleared, it was worse than he first thought. Trying to sound more confident than he felt, he buzzed the Capt'n just after sunrise to give him the bad news.
"Sir. The power generator for the propulsion system is shot and the anode is cracked. It needs major repairs," he paused, hoping, maybe praying there would be another way, "repairs that are impossible to perform here without more specialized equipment."
"Don't we have replacement parts?"
"Yes, but not what we need. This is bigger than just replacing a crisped converter."
"What are you telling me?"
"We're grounded, Sir. The magno drive is completely down, and the power for most of the systems is gone."
His back hurt like hell as he came up for breakfast. The Capt'n didn't say a thing to him. After he talked to Doc, he just looked at the video of the waves crashing down on the beach. It was something they knew was a risk when they accepted the mission. Maybe that's why they only chose men without families or living relatives. Regardless, nothing could have prepared him for being stuck on a violent planet eight years from home. After he ate, he let the medic droid do its magic on his blisters and the pain eased.
Doc buzzed the COM. "Capt'n, Mike, come down to the lab, I've completed testing."
Maybe he had better news.
"The life form is definitely a type of crustacean, and it contains no toxic compounds. If we can collect a mature specimen, and it, too, proves to be non-poisonous, we may have a fresh food source. Also, the seaweed is similar to edible varieties on earth, although much richer, the oil it contains is comparable in composition to monosaturates. The bad news is, the main power generator for the water recycling system is gone, and there isn't a reliable source of fresh water. The storms are too brief, so rainwater really isn't an option. However, with Mike's help, I can make a reverse osmosis system that can furnish a fair supply from salt water. My suggestion is to concentrate our efforts on the ocean."
"What about the land?" Mike asked.
"It's absolutely barren. Just volcanic rock and salt formations. Life, here, is in the water only. Nothing survives in the air."
"Except us, I hope," said Capt'n.
As he readied a message buoy to send the somber news and request a rescue ship, Mike wondered if they could survive that long. "Great," he mumbled to himself as he finished programming the buoy, "we've got sixteen years to twiddle our thumbs." When including the coordinates, he described their location as Poseidon's Pitchfork.
After helping Doc set up the reverse osmosis system, he checked on Ted. Still sound asleep. He really missed the guy's bad puns and silliness. Having someone around that doesn't take life so seriously made even a bad situation tolerable. Right now he could use some of Ted humor.
Doc buzzed him on the COM. He wanted more samples. On its second trip out, the droid broke down because of salt corrosion. Mike volunteered to get it. Why not? There was nothing to do inside but twiddle his thumbs for sixteen years. Poor Ted would be in the isolation room hooked up to the medical droid for a few more days, and Mike was getting twitchy. There was only so much time you could spend onboard ship without something to do before you got cabin fever.
Although the air outside was breathable, Doc made him wear an ISO Suit. It struck him as funny that Doc was still concerned about possible infection from unknown organisms.
Wiggling and squirming to get into the bulky suit, Mike glanced at Doc. "Man, this makes me feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy." Doc just shook his head, fastened the re-breather hose and pointed him toward the airlock.
Walking toward the oceans edge, Mike could almost smell the salt air. The walls of black rock on either side seemed like silent watchtowers observing his clumsy stroll on the beach. The droid stood, frozen in mid-scoop after being struck by a wave, buried halfway up its treaded base in the sand. After he snapped a retrieval leash to it, he began the lumbering return to LSI.
A glance back at the swelling tide stopped him. Something like the swim bladder of a Portuguese Man-o-War bobbed in the surf. It was round, and the sunlight caused silvery rainbows to shimmer across its surface. He stood there for a moment, watching it bob up and down, then it sunk back into the wave. Excited, he turned toward the ship, and, as quickly as the suit would let him, Mike hustled back, the droid bumping along over the sand.
Back inside, Mike excitedly described what he saw to Doc. Without waiting to hear what he had to say, he ran down to the supply room and devised a makeshift fishing pole from a cannibalized optical conduit. He found a small grappling hook in the equipment closet. A metal file worked to hone its edges, and once satisfied with its sharpness, he tied it to the pole with a thin, synthetic rope. At the airlock he announced. "I'm goin' fishin', and without that damn suit!"
Capt'n Bill must have noticed Doc scowling at him for going without the suit.
"There's a whole new world out there, Doc, and to stay alive, we've got to be able explore it. Mike's right, he doesn't need a suit, it'll just get in the way."
Doc nodded slowly. "Okay, no suit. I'll work on something you can use as an oxygen supply on future outings. Just remember, the oxygen content is low.
Don't over-exert yourself or you'll pass out."
"Gotcha!" he said, happy to be doing something constructive, and possibly fun.
"I still need to examine anything you find, and keep specimens in stasis for the trip home," Doc warned. "So, anything you catch is for study. Try to get it to me alive if you can. Got it?"
"Gotcha! Gotcha!" Mike said, and bolted for the hatch before the Doc gave him something else to do.
As the hatch opened, he got a whiff of the air. It was salty and had a strong, sulfurous odor. "Phew, should have named this place Flatulent Fork." Wrinkling his nose, he waved his hand in front of his face, but it didn't do any good.
Walking down to the water, the sun felt warm and the sound of the waves was familiar and soothing. Mike began to feel better, less tense and sang, "My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea..." The song echoed off the cliffs surrounding him. His baritone voice quickly slacked off as the thin air stole his breath. As he leaned on his knees to catch it, he looked back toward the spherical ship. It would really be great when Ted was well enough so they could go fishing together.
Mike watched the waves, scanning every crest for signs of the bubble he saw before. Finally, as the twin suns were low on the horizon, a glistening sphere rose gently in a wave. Excited, he flung the hook at it, and snagged it on his first attempt. Heart pounding, he pulled the line in, grinning like a fool. It came to rest on the sand at his feet, the jelly-like bubble punctured, water pouring out in a dwindling stream. Anxious to see his catch, but mindful that Doc wanted live specimens, he decided to take it back to the ship first and examine it there. Scooping it into the bucket he brought along, he walked briskly back to the ship.
When he arrived, Mike found himself completely out of breath. Doc had been correct to warn him about the low oxygen level. Light-headed, little black dots swirled in front of his eyes. It seemed like someone far off was wheezing, and it took a moment for him to realize it was him. He sat down in the airlock after the hatch closed to catch his breath.
Doc arrived with an oxygen mask, and soon he felt better. They stared into the bucket. The bubble, or bladder as Doc called it, had collapsed, and an animal about the size of a big chicken lay inside, gasping. It resembled the tiny crustacean, pink with a broad curved tail like a lobster, but it had no hard shell like the larva. The forepart had only a small band of shell where four, eight-segmented arms protruded. One had a large claw-like appendage, the rest ended in three tiny, two jointed fingers. The head protruded directly from the body, and resembled a catfish, with a wide mouth and long filamentous whiskers. It's eyes were black with a rectangular, gold pupil, and rolled as it choked out its last breath.
"Wow!" Mike grinned.
"You caught a whopper, Mike," said Capt'n Bill over Doc's shoulder. "What do you think, Doc?"
"Looks a lot like the larva. I'll test it for toxins and put the information on disc.
"How's Ted?" Mike asked. He really missed his buddy, and wished he were there to celebrate.
"Better, but still in a lot of pain. I put him out again after he ate. It'll be a few days yet before he can go with you," said Doc, and patted him on the shoulder.
His back was beginning to ache again, so he took a trip down to the unit. As Doc had said, Ted was out of it. Although the medical droid was doing a good job on him and he didn't look as bad, his arms were still lumpy from the blisters. He knew how painful his were, Ted must have been in agony. When he returned topside, Doc filled him and the Capt'n in on his examination of the creature.
"The DNA structure is identical to the larva, proving it to be an adult specimen. The animal was unable to tolerate any exposure to the air, or, in some way, the air is poisonous to it and it expired shortly after I got it to the lab. Further testing showed, however, that it is not toxic, and most certainly can be eaten. It is high in protein with very little fat, and has a high calcium content."
Proud that he discovered something they could eat, he said, "Hey, my brine shrimp is steak and a glass of skim milk all in one!"
This time it was Doc's turn to groan.
Returning to the shore the next day, regretfully in the Doughboy suit, Mike managed to snag two more creatures, and pulled up a mass of seaweed when the grappling hook drug the bottom. Triumphantly, he returned to the ship, his bucket full.
In the galley, he cooked the creatures, and included a bunch of seaweed for seasoning. Tentatively at first, he tasted the creature's flesh. It was firm, and sweet, and tasted somewhat like a combination of lobster and crab in a delicious butter sauce. The seaweed was slightly salty and had the same buttery taste. After they finished off one, they got halfway through the second before hitting full.
"Man, that's good eatin', and I even liked the butter weed," Mike said, patting my stomach.
Doc seemed content and picked his teeth with a toothpick. "I have to agree."
"Looks like we won't have to live on freeze-dried meals," Capt'n Bill said with a burp, "But we may get sick of your brine shrimp by the time the rescue ship arrives."
"Never," Mike said. "I'm saving this for Ted when he wakes up," he pointed to the remains of the second 'shrimp', "he deserves some."
The next day he caught a different creature, a streamlined fish with huge, scimitar shaped teeth. Resembling a shark, it was six feet long, and put up a terrible fight. Mike was glad Doc had devised a breathing apparatus for him. Much to Mike's relief, it supplied just enough oxygen to maintain an adequate blood concentration, and it could be increased if he did anything demanding. Fighting the shark had been very strenuous, and Mike felt light-headed and out of breath even with the oxygen turned up all the way.
Mike sat on the sand and caught his breath as he admired his catch.
"You are one ugly critter! There ain't no way I'm swimmin' in these waters," he said to the fish as it gnashed its teeth and struggled on the sand. It quickly gasped out its last breath, and he drug it back to the ship.
Later, Doc dissected it and established it as a predator. Now why he had to determine that was up for conjecture. With that set of teeth, Mike thought it was pretty obvious. "Wow, really?" Doc didn't seem to appreciate the remark much, and ignored him. It aggravated him to find out it had been feeding on the shrimp. In its stomach were the remains of a dozen adults, and easily twice that many larvae. Capt'n Bill congratulated him on killing something that could potentially destroy their fresh food supply. The mess hall food was okay, just not as palatable as fresh shrimp and seaweed.
After that, and for the rest of the first week, Mike invariably snagged one or two of the shrimp each day. There were no more sharks, but Mike was sure there were more out there.
Ted was up and sitting in the mess hall. "I sure am glad to see you," Mike said and plopped his catch on the floor next to him. "Want to go fishing tomorrow?"
"You bet."
Doc scowled over his chart. "As long as you promise not to overdo."
"Yes, Mother."
Ted rolled his eyes and Doc gave a disgusted grunt and went back to his work. Mike was so glad he had his buddy back. The fact that he was well enough to go fishing was great news.
Even with Ted casting, they still were only able to catch one or two shrimp each day. But why be greedy? That was plenty for the four of them. Figuring out different ways to cook them would be a bigger challenge, but Mike had enough skill in the kitchen to whip up some tasty meals.
"Tell me how you landed the shark," Ted asked for the umpteenth time.
Almost every day he talked about that darn shark. He seemed fascinated by the story of how he caught it.
"Don't you ever get tired of hearing it?"
"Heck no. That was one ugly beast, must have scared the stuffing out of you when you pulled it out of the water."
Seeing such a ferocious looking creature in the stasis tube was scary enough, but knowing live ones lurked just offshore was terrifying.
Mike told the tale one more time as the suns dipped just above the massive waves. "Just look at the size of the swells out there."
"Yeah, surfs up and me without a surfboard," Ted sighed.
That night, Mike made a trip to the supply cabinet, then snuck out and erected a "No Surfing" sign near the point where the waves ended their attack of the beach.
As they strolled down for their morning casting for shrimp, Ted noticed the sign and burst out laughing.
Mike patted his shoulder. "Guess you'll have to be happy with fishing."
"Yeah, guess so. But, I swear, I'll catch a bigger one, just watch my style." In his hand was a larger, more substantial fishing pole and hook apparatus he rigged from cannibalized parts of the ship.
"Just don't be telling tales of the one that got away."
Ted smirked and heaved his line into the surf.
The next five days were spent in a futile quest for the Vermicious Knid, as Ted dubbed the sharks. Although they caught their quota of shrimp, not once did they get even a faint glimpse of the predator. Mike considered that it might have just been a fluke, a beast rarely seen this close to shore.
The next day started with a quick breakfast, then down to the shore for fishing. Mike had pretty much given up on catching a Knid. Then Ted hooked one. Even in the thin air, he was able to let out a whoop that made his ears buzz. Ted struggled up and down the beach for nearly fourty-five minutes before relinquishing the pole to Mike. He did about the same, and after two more trades, they finally landed the beast.
Completely exhausted, Mike flopped on the sand, Ted right next to him. A noise behind him turned out to be Capt'n Bill.
"You two have been gone for three hours. I came to see what was going on."
All Mike could do was point, talking was impossible.
Lolling at the edge of the surf was Ted's knid. A gigantic animal, probably twenty feet long. The eel-like skin glistened in the sunlight like liquid steel. How they managed to keep it on the hook, much less land it, Mike didn't know. It seemed a Herculean feat worthy of the record books. Mike raised a shaky hand and clapped Ted on the back. As he watched it quickly die in the air, he wondered why the animals were so fragile.
Doc had followed Capt'n down to the shore and once sure it was dead, cautiously examined it. Mike figured the teeth were about eight inches long. His skin crawled as he peered at them. They looked sharp enough to cut through just about anything. As Doc cut open its belly, dozens of adult shrimp and an uncountable number of larvae tumbled onto the sand. This monster could really do some damage.
Finally able to speak, Mike posed a question to Doc. "Could it be these animals are poisoned by something in the atmosphere that doesn't bother us? Look at that big animal. It hasn't been out of the water five minutes, and it's already dead."
"Quite possibly. Perhaps the excess sulfur or methane in the air. I found only tiny amounts in the water samples, and relatively none in the plants or shrimp."
"Men, why don't you stand by your catch. I'd like a picture to send back home."
Capt'n Bill had a camera in his hand and motioned for them to pose by the knid. With their toothy leviathan stretched across the beach, Mike took his place at one end, Ted at the other, arms extended. The picture was proof that the knid was twenty feet long.
Ted boasted, "My knid is bigger than your knid."
"This time, just you wait until I catch the next one." His challenge started a kind of 'knid derby' between them. Two days later, he landed one about the size of the first, but Ted outdid him again. A week after, a picture of Ted flexing in front of a twelve-footer graced the mess hall. Although neither one was close to the size of the monster both of them helped land, Mike felt there must be a lot more of the big ones out there.
"There are no toxins in the flesh, so you might try your culinary skills on one to see if we can add another fresh source of meat to our diet," Doc said.
He tried to cook a filet of the dark gray flesh, but discovered it tasted too fishy, with a nasty, bitter undertone. It was quickly, and unanimously rejected as a potential food source. They were, however, a terrific sport fish, jumping and thrashing like tarpons. Mike couldn't resist the excitement, and took Ted down to the beach every chance he got. His excuse to Doc and the Capt'n for the lengthy knid fishing trips was "To protect our 'Brinys'.
The knid teeth, once removed from their incredibly hard jaws, made impressive necklaces. With a little work, Mike found the dried skins were tough enough to use as leather. He grinned as he looked over the pictures Capt'n Bill had taken and created a sort of "Rogue's Gallery" in the mess hall. Ted with his most recent knid; the monster; Mike standing on the beach pointing to the "No Surfing" sign; and the latest picture, him and Ted wearing their toothsome jewelry and knid-leather fishing hats. Near the bottom was a picture of Mike's last catch, a fifteen-foot knid he had wrestled to the beach all by himself, lay on the sand at his feet.
Scanning the photos, Mike included them with an update of their progress on E III. He sent the message buoy, feeling its news was both hopeful and reassuring. Poseidon's Point had become their home away from home.
Better, actually. They had a sixteen-year vacation with nothing to do all day but go fishin'.
***
Tulag swam over to Veepa and gave her a tender kiss goodbye. As he wiggled into the protection sphere that allowed him to look out into the Deadly Ether, she stayed close by, sadness in her eyes, her whiskers stroked the jelly-like surface, trembling with emotion.
"I love you, Tulag," she said. "I will always remember you. Our children will never forget their brave father, nor the siblings lost to tzuk attacks."
Blowing her a kiss, he began his accent. He had been chosen, and it was a great honor. Offerings were required for the Gods of the Ether to come from their protection sphere and kill the giant tzuks that constantly devastated their villages, killing hundreds, sometimes thousands every day. He was honored to be giving his life so that many more would be saved.
Tulag looked upward as the surface neared, and smiled.
--end-
© 2000 Sharen Nehoda
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