Ryan sat looking at the spectacle of
his new world.
How the hell had he actualy pulled this off?, he
wondered.
The reality bitting
him finnaly, that he would never see earth again.
He thought back to the phone call
that had brought him here.
An old Army buddy had remembered him affter they fell out of touch and Chuck climbed the
corporate ranks.
He'd called him that sunday morning to ask him if he would be interested
in something truly "Wierd".
Ryan had been fighting with the wench of the
week.
A tall control freak of a red head
that he'd been grudge fucking on and off for the last ten years.
She couldn't get past her
"issues" , and he was getting to straight in
the head to care.
"Time", "Space",
and a slew of other words that meant that he wasn't getting anywhere near the
person that she was unless he took to his leash and liked it.
But taking to his leash would make him
lose the person that he was becoming, for the first time in his life a person
he was almost happy with.
More offten
than not, he couldn't tell if he loved her, and doubted that she could ever
love herself.
That was the block,
little Red just wouldn't let herself accept happiness, or rteal
pleasure.
Sex between them was a control game.
Her
only happy when she got him to cum' first.
not concerned about her pleasure, but totaly
focused on the illusion of power that comes with the fantasy of control.
He'd had about enough of it, and of
her.
Shame realy.
She'd be something someday if she ever put down that spiked bat of self abuse
that she carried with her like a prize possesion.
In the interim, she was a good quick lay that
didn't much care who else he bedded.
Ryan for the first time in his life realy didn't want to be in a relationship.
He'd finally established a
relationship with himself.
His "higher self", he realy didn't mind being alone.
She hadn't called in two weeks,
playing a game of who wants who least.
The problem was that he was sick of
that game, and all of the others.
He wasn't about to call her, she
always ruined his mood, and his day, even when the sex was good...she had to
say something to dig at him, to back him off.
He had been surprised to get a call at all,
much more so from someone who shouldn't have his number.
Hell the only people who actualy called him at his hotel room were his sponsor, and
the odd occasional fuck toy, sometimes the boss.
"Define 'wierd'?",
he'd asked.
"Can't, but we can meet and I'll
tell you what I can.", was all that Chuck would say on the phone.
They set a meet in an old abbandoned
wharehouse in north
Ryan felt wierd
about it , but opted to agree.
Chuck had always been a straight arrow, they'd actualy lost touch
because it was Ryan that couldn't ever seem to fly right.
His drug dealing days had cost him a lot of
friends.
He was surprised to know that Chuck
was aware that he was doing well, that he'd kicked the coke and the booze.
Okay, well within reason.
Affter hanging up, he'd called his sponsor.
The conversation lasted for hours,
what to do, what not to do, how to stay alchohol and
drug free under any circumstances.
That was the key, meet the guy, but
whatever else...don't drink or use.
He was doing well, two years sober, not making
bad money waiting tables at the diner, going to school part time to finnish up a ten year old
engineering degree.
He was even doing alright with the laddies, girls realy.
He liked thier
willingness to experiment enjoyed thier readiness to
have sex at the drop of a hat.
A lot to be said for the eighteen to
twenty one year old crowd, except most thought him a little old at thirty two.
It was a fun romp, but this time he
was focused on school.
He was honestly more sexualy active than he'd been in years.
But honestly, he wasn't realy
satisfied.
Aside from his sobriety, he felt that
there wasn't anything in his life that he couldn't just walk away from, or
anyone for that matter. to include the schooling.
So he'd changed, called out of work and went
to the meeting with Chuck.
Outer space, other planets,
craziness, absolute and utter maddness.
But, the wharehouse
wasn't empty...it just looked that way from the outside,
it was filled with crates of gear from those who had already sighned on.
Rows upon rows of what looked to be
titanium based storage lockers, each the size of an over sized railway frieght car, or possibly a small very small rural house
like the tiny ones he'd seen in the resort town of Seaside Hieghts
New Jersey and elsewhere along that stretch of the Jersey shore.
Thinking of the limited time he'd
spent in
She had been "Trailer park
trash", he had to admit, but then again so had he.
He just hadn't known any better at
the time.
Truely, ignorance
was bliss.
Simple deal, which was explained affter he'd sighned a security
agreement, stating that if he chose not to go, he was under a million dollar
bond to tell no one of the offer.
Leave his life on earth, and go as one of a
thousand corporate settlers, that were being "Snuck" aboard another
corporations own colonization mission.
Corporate espionage at it's finest.
The
larger corporation shelling out all of the money for the starship, Chuck's
corporation, (or from what he could tell, group of corporations), only having
to pay for the gear, and the life pods and storage pods. A multi-million dollar out lay none the
less.
He'd get fifty thousand dollars of in house
credit for gear, which he could spend through catalouges
only, and they'd pay to get him ready, dental and medical, even carry his reant for the two months it would take for him to quietly
disappear.
Probably other earth based corporate
sponsors, possibly even governments, provided the catalog choices.
And, he could claim up to four one thousand
acre plots of land for himself, to include all water rights, and half the
mineral rights.
But, he had to give the corporation settlement
the first two years of his life on the new planet and the larger part of the next
five years in a sort of reserve status much like the army where he and Chuck
had first met.
A seven year bond, which would make him
forty.
After that, he was free to do what he
chose, and own what he could.
Chuck, wouldn't be going...he was making a hundred grand a year,
with a loving wife and three kids.
He admitted,
that he was crazy, but not that crazy.
For Ryan though, it was a whole new
start on a life he'd already fucked up more than once.
When he came home, he thought it out, a new
life...from scratch, or a life spent digging out of a bankruptcy and the after
effects of fifteen years of hard drinking and drugging.
It seemed like a no brainier, but still he had
his doubts.
Cryptic calls to his sponsor had helped to
settle things a bit, helped to clear his head.
A week later he'd called Chuck, and Ryan signed on.
A once in a lifetime deal, and one he figured
he could pull out of if he needed to.
Looking around, he felt as though maybe he
should have pulled out.
His team mates would be landing soon, many
like himself, ex-combat engineers, or seabee's.
More women than men to no
great surprise.
A good lure, and a way to insure the populations survival and growth.
He looked around for his horse.
he'd spent a thousand
dollars on the horse, and a thousand apiece for it's mares.
A good deal really since each was
worth twice that.
The corporation had been good that
way.
Corporate buying power let him get his gear at
probably a third what it would have cost in stores.
Buying mostly every thing at cost, had turned the "Fifty" thousand into more
like a hundred and fifty thousand.
He still wondered if it would be
enough.
If it
could ever be enough on a world where he wouldn't be buying anything for at
least a decade, and at that...most likely nothing of the quality of earth goods
and weapons ever again.
He could see the big mustang stud, shaking off
the after effects of the cryogenic pod.
Funny he thought looking at it, it seemed
younger than a three year old, ...looked more like a
yearling.
Then again, he felt younger himself, looked it
from what he could see in his reflection.
Five feet ten inches tall, with one hundred
and eighty five pounds of muscle, he felt handsome, looking at his image...but admitted
that he was more rugged than anything.
The squared head and face,
would never get him into "G.Q.", he admitted to himself, and the flat
top hair cut, just left him looking more boxy.
It fit him though.
Not
that he hadn't been a hell raiser in his time, but he'd always had a responsible streak, and the two had
been blending nicely over the last two years.
He ran a hand down himself to check
his gear.
A black air force jumper with added
padding at the elbows and knees, Black L.B.E., heavily loaded with four
canteens, a matched set of Dan Wesson forty fives, survival knife, survival
hatched, a Tarrus seven shot .357 magnum in shoulder
holster, extra ammo for all, gas mask hanging from his left side, lap top
hanging from his right, compass, radio handset and head set, mag light, major wound dressings, and a butt-pack full of
freeze dried food packs.
His double sized commercial back pack
was in the pod where it had been before he went to sleep for a hundred years,
the shotgun and his rifle as well.
They'd even supplied a Kevlar helmet,
but he'd always hated hats.
He would be point man.
He reached for the landing marker, and set it
firmly in the ground of the clearing.
It would mark the location of his pod
to insure that the next pod wouldn't drop right on top of the first one.
The teams would land around the
marker, first the other five of his team, two more men and three women, then as
they set more markers the other 54 would be landed, giving his settlement it's full compliment of sixty beings, assuming all survived
the landing.
He looked to the trees with awe and respect,
thinking this must have been what the pilgrims first saw when they landed on
American soil.
He pulled his largest pistol, and went to the
stud.
Eyes still blurry, but searching for
anything hostile as he walked, a bit fearfully across the clearing that would
be his home for the next year at least.
He could see the horses head above
the waist high
In spots it was only ankle high, but they were
rare.
Shame that it would all have
to be cleared.
It rolled majestically to the tree
line, with dots of green and lavender here and there adding color and depth to
the vision.
Just a hair under a thousand meters to the
tree line he thought.
Again
standing for a moment in just pure wonderment.
This could never be earth. Earth
didn't have 4X's blend of colors.
Shame he'd bought all that camouflage, he
thought...it would never hide him here, the black would have to do.
The horse held it's
place as he mantled and saddled him.
Then he was up.
Rifle, and bed roll, ready along with his saddle bags, and other
basic gear.
The rest of his belongings would land in a
week, and the gear pod would become his temporary home, until some better form of
shelter could be made.
The Grey studs name was Febu,
the name given to him by his breeder.
It kind of fit him, for he was an odd
one.
Grey
and black, with a shaggy black mane and tail.
Febu walked at
first, quite unsure of himself, then trotted, as Ryan gave him his head.
The trees that had looked impressive from a
distance, now looked simply amazing, some as large as 200 feet in diameter
along their base, with tops that seemed to reach to the heavens themselves.
He simply could not see where some of
the tops stopped, easily five hundred feet, possibly more.
What an amazing place he thought, thanking his
higher power for sending him, as the fear ran down his spine that it was all
real, too damned real.
Every one he knew back home was dead,
long dead.
Only the team now, they were all he
had.
The team,
and the other settlers.
The continent was named
"ACAD-A" after the auto cad program that had mapped it.
It was the largest and most
"Hospitable" of 4x's continents, housing all climates, and an amazing
assortment of wildlife about which little was known.
In time, they would build the radios and
repeaters, and this continent would flourish, all of the thousand settlers
being dispatched here and there in intervals of a few hundred miles.
At that, they would barely make a
dent.
"ACADA", was large enough
to house 10
A thousand souls would barely dent the place.
The other two thousand our
so that the other corporation had sent, and possibly a last thousand would be
scattered to all of the continents.
It was possible he knew,
that within his life time he would never even meet one of them.
That was the sheer magnitude of the
place.
Four thousand people on a planet four times
the size of earth.
Four million would barely dent it,
and earths six billion could easily live here with room to spare, but then
again, that was the idea.
His wave of settlers was to make a
safe place for others who would follow, possibly as soon as ten years, possibly
as long as a hundred.
They were to set up safe landing zones, set up
communications, and land links to the satellites that could blink information
back to earth faster than any ship could ever travel.
Granted the corporations wanted
minerals and anything of value that they could get their grubby little hands
on, but they'd willingly settle for a new market, home sales, land sales and
whatever else could bring a profit.
For the governments that he knew were
probably underwriting the expense, it would mean new territories, expansionism,
a larger tax base, and some where to send their poor and homeless taking stress
off of their nations resources.
He thought about that, knowing that the sat's were sending information on his ships arrival that
would not even reach earth for ten years.
In a decade, they would know that he
was here, he and the other "First Landers".
He could see them as their landing
pods flared through the bright sky to place hundreds if not thousands of miles
away.
A roar in the sky caught his attention.
Looking up, he could see the comet
like glare of another pod coming down.
That would be Lance, which meant that
he only had an hour or so to enjoy his solitary first taste of a new world.
He focused his digital camera at the
tree line, hoping in some small way to save them for all eternity. Knowing that
in a thousand years they would be gone.
The thud of Lances
arrival jolted him, and spooked the horse.
Some odd form of bird flew from the tree's to be caught in flight on the camera. A perimant digital image of mans first attempt to colonize
another living world.
In less than an hour Lance would be
thawed and functional
Ryan gave Febu his
head, and threw his arms in the air as he and his horse enjoyed the first few
moments of true freedom he had ever known.
Lance came to as expected.
Groggy and bleary eyed from a hundred
years of Cryo sleep.
He looked younger as well, by nearly
a decade.
Perhaps, Ryan thought it was the
herbal cleansers that had been part of the cryo'
experience.
Lance had been thirty two like
himself, when they'd left.
In preflight training they'd gotten to be
friends, the
Both
ex-combat engineers, Ryan from
Lance had stayed reserve, and had
never gone regular army, had never left his native state for that matter.
Now here he was willingly on another
world.
Lance was shorter, thinner, and definitely a
At five foot eight Lance Weighed maybe a
hundred and forty pounds, and that was dripping wet, but he was sharp, and
stronger than his size would seem to allow.
Lance came to life as his horse came to life.
Lance looking more twenty two
than thirty two.
If the herbal cleansers had taken a
few years off while they slept for the hundred year flight, Ryan could live
with that, it would make the seven year bond a little more user friendly.
The horse was a golden Mixed
breed of a horse that Lance had owned back home.
It was of medium height, but spirited and used
to his rider.
Lance had bought horses as well,
twelve of them all of mixed breed.
Lance had felt that the pure breeds
would be too fragile for the new world, and had opted for strong dependable
work horses.
He would make his fortune as a
breeder, Lance had decided.
He counted heavily on the fact that
his fortune in horse flesh would land in good time with the rest of his gear.
With Lance also landed the command tent, forty
feet long by twenty feet wide and twelve high.
A Milspec command tent, complete in every detail.
Their first assignment would be to
get it up, and then get more of the landing beacons set.
Defining
the outer boundaries of the landing zone.
As the tent began to take shape, a second roar
shattered the sky, Deanna.
Another engineer, and cute
as a button.
The major comm
gear would come with her.
"Look at those fucking suns
man....", Lance said in awe.
"Yeah, I think I'm going to love
it here....this place is amazing...you see those damned trees?', Ryan asked.
"Yeah, hope the chain saws'll cut 'em...I have my
doubts about those electric jobbies...damned shame gasoline wouldn't have
survived the trip."
"Yeah, I could just see your
little red neck self out there whacking away at those monsters with a chainsaw
twice your size.", Ryan said with a chuckle
picturing it in his mind.
"I've got a forty inch bar on
that one electric, biggest thing on the planet so far
as I know…Don't know if that's Going to cut it."
"We'll get by, even if we have
to blow them up, we'll be in log cabins by winter.",
Ryan said again with assurance.
It would be March, and winter would
be coming soon enough.
They had landed by the "Rojas
coast", or "
"Seven months 'till winter, and I've got a year of freeze dried food, We'll be
alright either way. How much did you put up in food Lance?"
"A bit more than you, I went for
that 2000 dollar five year package. It'll feed the six of us for three years.
Never can be to safe when it comes to food, and it was damned cheap at the
corporate price.".
"You spent too much time with
those militia boys back home didn't you?"
"Yeah, maybe...but those good ol' boys never go hungry.",
He said as they lifted the front support bar of the tent.
"Yeah," ,Ryan
replied with a grunt, "I've seen them, they could use to go with out food
for a while, bunch of fucking pork bellied red neck racist pricks.", he
laughed at the image his mind drew.
Remembering the
would be Militia leader he'd met in Pennsy'.
An
easy two hundred and fifty pounds of lard talking shit about overthrowing the government
and slurping beer like water.
The thump of
She'd be up in an hour, roughly three
hours after suns rise.
Leaving another ten hours or
so of workable daylight to the day.
"Okay man, we're braced
here...Lets get the middle, and work down.",
Lance said securing the last of the tents ties on his side.
They worked the hour away, using the horses to
help pull and stabilize the huge tent as they went.
Deanna came to life, as they finished.
She watched them curiously, still in
the fresh haze of awakening.
"You boys are nothing but
trouble", she said looking to her attached gear pod for the satellite hook
up gear.
She was a looker, even in baggy B.D.U.'s it was hard to hide that small thin body.
Just enough hips to give you some idea she was
a woman, B-cups, and a certain wiggle in her walk.
She was from
'Opposites attract', Ryan thought to himself as he watched her start to move her things into the
tent.
'
Five three, maybe five four, not too
small, not too tall.', Ryan thought to himself, 'and definitely a handful'.
Her medium
length straight red hair tousled a bit by a passing breeze.
Neither man could take their eyes off of her, then it hit Ryan that so far she was the only woman on the
planet.
That explained his raging lust issues.
He pulled his eyes away, and walked back to
his pod to find the folding table that would act as a base for the com gear and
his lap top.
Lance had one of each as well, and so did each person who
landed.
Another roar, and Theena
would land, a second tent with her.
She was of mixed race, a Mulatto...half Black,
Half white and nearly Ryan’s height.
Athletic, but not thin, she was the first aid
segment of the team, an R.N., and an ex-navy medic with a strong science back
ground.
Her gear would go into the med tent.
The tents were for operations, and temporarily
for sleeping,
Matt and Stacey would bunk with her, and He,
lance and Deanna would take the command tent.
They were the engineers,
Stacey was a Comm Tech, Matt a South African bush
commando who'd gone corporate with the fall of apartheid. The corporation had
sponsored him for a
B.A. in Bio Chemistry and an associates in botany from
A good solid team, Ryan thought.
He hoped they'd all survive.
Each had a horse and each horse was grazing by
the end of the day, a good sign for it meant that the waist high grass around them
was at least edible.
They would have the place to themselves for at
least the next month.
They would await the gear pods which held the
groups gear, housing and other necessities for the colony, which would be
landing through out the next two days.
They would scout, hunt, take samples of all
living things to be run through Matt and Theena's
test equipment.
They would determine what should be edible,
what should be poisonous, and other wise live in hopes of bringing the other
colonists to the surface with a safe start on a bright new future.
As the light grew to a close, Ryan, Lance and Theena, set the bon fire.
4x, was known to have
some very nasty predators, and fire was known to be man’s oldest defense again
such things that go bump in the night.
As an added assurance, Matt borrowed
Lance and the two began a controlled burn.
In an hour’s time setting a
circle two hundred meters wide around the tents.
Ryan was simply mesmerized by the bon fire,
twenty feet high and at least the same at its base.
He could see fairly clearly all through the
circle and beyond in the growing dark of 4x's last setting sun.
Then he watched as the moon came into view, a
lavender orange moon, at least twice the size of earth’s.
Its two smaller moons trailing it
like tails in the night sky.
He settled to sleep knowing that his watch
would come soon enough.
At least He'd drawn Deanna as a watch mate.
It would give him a couple of hours alone to
talk with her, which made lance just a hair jealous.
'Oh well...buddy, all's fair in love
and war...and the gods seem to have spoken on this one.'.
He went to sleep in bliss.
Only to be awaken by
the screaming and gunfire of the first watch less than an hour into his sleep.
The fire had drawn them, not kept them away.
Purple and black monsters, half dog, half long
haired monkey, with jackal like maws.
They blended easily into their surroundings,
weaving in an out of the grass at a distance.
At first they had attacked boldly, as
he approached the scene, at least twenty lay dead.
Caught in the free fire zone, highlighted by
the bon fire, they couldn't hide.
They stood out at a distance, hurling rocks,
and hard fist sized acorn like nuts.
Theena was the first
to be wounded by the missiles.
Matt had actually gotten bitten by one that
had gotten too close, both retreated to the med tent as he, Lance, Deanna, and
Stacey joined the fray with their chosen weapons.
Lance had gone with a cowboys
gun for landing, a
Deanna had what Ryan considered a bit more
common sense, and simply hosed rounds into the brush from her military issue
Colt M-16A2.
Stacey had opted for a twenty gauge Remington
pump action fowling piece, and was doing alright for herself.
The over length barrel adding
accuracy and range to her shots.
Ryan had opted for his Dream rifle.
An F.N., "L.A.R.
It was heavier than most "modern " military rifles, and a bit light on the ammo
capacity having only twenty rounds to a magazine, but it made a damned big hole
in whatever it hit, and it sported a two thousand dollar heat sensing scope,
which made hunting those damned things
at night much like shooting paper targets.
He settled his eyes to reading the
bright red heat signatures of their bodies and began slowly, methodically
firing.
He took fifteen out of his first twenty
rounds, reloaded...a bit slow for his taste, and took another ten before they
fled for the safety of the tree line.
Deanna had scored a dozen, Lance just a hair
under at eleven, and Stacey only three...but he'd seen
her wound a mess of them.
What concerned him was that there had
to be at least a hundred more, and maybe two hundred.
Lance had been hit by one of the acorn things,
and Deanna had a nice gash in her leg from a rock.
Ryan went to her, taking a dressing
from his L.B.E. and stopping the bleeding.
"You two hobble over to the med
tent, can't have you risking infection.
Looks like Stacey and I get to pull the over
night.
Fine with me, I worked allot of third
shifts back home, I'm used to going to sleep in the day light.", Ryan Said.
"Yeah, me too...Waitressed
until I got this gig....", Deanna said with a
light , flirting smile through the pain.
"Go get fixed up, This puts us
behind, off schedule...", Stacey added, "We need every one top shape,
or those colonists are going to be hanging up there for a lot longer than
they'd planned.".
"Ryan, you got a night scope on
that thing or something?", Lance asked with a
grimace his cowboy pride hurt by his bad showing.
"
Thermal scope, can see their body heat. You
can use it tomorrow when you pull watch, I'll make it the dedicated night watch
gun.
I don't want to be surprised again.
Those damned things could have really hurt us, maybe even killed some one.".
"Cool man, thanks...I was starting to
think I was losing my edge, we'll be back in a flash man, you won't have to be
up all night", Lance said apologetically as he and Deanna limped away
towards the med tent, her red hair blowing carelessly in the wind, glowing in the brilliant ochre of the fire’s
dancing flames.
The creatures moved in and out of his sight
for an hour until lance came up with matt to relieve him and Stacey.
He took the occasional pot shot, but
they stayed out of range.
The rifle may have been capable of
accurate shots at a thousand meter's, but Ryan wasn't.
He was surprised that he hit the one
he had, but doubted that he'd killed it.
"
Where're the ladies?", Ryan asked.
"Deanna’s got ten stitches from
that rock, and Theena's running blood work to make
sure our antibiotic’s will work on whatever might exist here.", Matt
answered sounding tired., and looking beat, "We don't have all our med's
yet. Hope what we did bring down'll cut it 'till the
heavy stuff comes."
"We'll hang if you guys need sleep, we'll
just get a late start in the morning.", Ryan said, knowing that he could
stay up through the night.
"Speak for yourself man",
Stacey chimed in , " I'm beat, I've never been up
this late, not even in the service.
I'm dead on my feet. I'm not going to be worth
shit without some sleep.".
Looking at her, the guys realized that she
meant it, her eyes were a swollen deep red, her whole demeanor shouted for
sleep, and she was the only comm tech on planet.
"Lance, you're with me, Matt get
some rest. I'll crash in the morning. Thank god for 24 four hour diners
huh?"
"Better you than me man, I'll
take you up on it. I Owe you one.", Matt said as
he limpped off towards his cot in the med tent.
"Just us good ol' boys.", Lance said
sounding equally tired.
"yeah,
this is going to suck..."
"Hey man can I see that there
rifle of yours...I'm going to have to get one of those damned scopes.
I've got an infrared on the thirty-thirty
here, but I still could barely see 'em..."
Ryan handed him the rifle.
"Trade Ya'
for a bit, but keep an eye out. They've been harassing us for the last hour.
They're smart. They'll be here a while."
"Yup'", Lance said
squeezing of a round and killing one of the beasts that stuck it's head out a little too far. Lance
easily capable of the rifles maximum range.
"Yup, I like this gun, didn't happen to
bring two of these did ya'?"
And so the night passed.
The beasts retreated with the light
of the first sun, and a truly weary Ryan crawled into his cot to dream only of
the other horrors that the planet might have in store for him.
Chapter two-
"Mr. Wolf.... so happy to
see that you have survived your little journey.
I would apologize
for your treatment, but you are unworthy of such niceties.
So here you are
with no idea of where "here" is, nor very much idea of how you've
come to this place. The memories will come and they will be painful but far
less so than those things that you will never remember.
The planet around
you is not earth. Earth is roughly a few hundred light years from where you
are standing.
As you awaken,
the troubles which plagued earth Before your disappearance
should be long passed, and we who sent you are most likely launching a mission
to subjugate you and yours. The only question is time.
Barring great
advances in technology that mission should reach you a hundred or so years from
now...but of course you will be long dead.
Your children
however will be ours for the taking.
Your new home is the planet "4X" aptly named
for it is roughly 4 times the size of Jupiter.
You are of course
only one of many sent to colonize this world for the peoples of earth. You of
all people a part of the united nations best kept
secret.
The planet was
first found by accident in the early 1940's by Nazi scientists. The same Nazi’s
who would send the first man made probe into deep space at greater than light
speeds. They were as you know far more advanced then
we give them credit for.
It would for that
matter take ten years to find the information that would lead to the
rediscovery of 4x. Another ten to do
anything about it, a few more years to establish a link with the probe, and a
decade or so to send new probes.
An Israeli-U.S.
probe would be next, and finally a series of "World" probes, sent by
the major nations of the U.N. .
You were very
right in suspecting that we were up to something...just a little off regarding
the limits of our power.
The first
"Manned mission" to
"4 X" launched from space in nineteen eighties, but to
the best of our knowledge, none of the soldiers of varied nations on board
survived the first months of the flight. The cost of course was staggering,
Billions in training, technology, and supplies.
A well done military colonization project being no
small matter. Years of thought and mountains of wealth simply wasted. Their corpses...most likely hanging above you some where in a high
planetary orbit. Pity really.
And so let me
thank you and the others for helping to prove or disprove the abilities of our
latest technologies. The Cryogenics in particular. It
is our belief that the last missions units failed in flight, and that our men
died horribly in their sleep. Literally drowning in their
pods. I can say that I did not hope a similar fate for you. Far too kind I'm afraid.
All in all you
are one of a thousand or so colonists, most unlike yourself convicted
criminals, military convicts, varied scum of the many nations serving greater
than life sentences. You of course simply a rebellious pain
in the ass. Some particularly among the White females were simply fairly
random kidnappings. They are of good genetic stock...those who were not were
simply disposed of...another number among the millions of young women who
disappear every day. You will find that your fellow colonists have very extreme
religious views...everything from Muslim to the nation of gods and earths...but
alas...no Jews. They will come in time, but why risk when others can be made to do so.
You will find
that most of your cell are with you here, (if they have survived), those who
were positively I.D.ed, and a few who just might have
been. If any survived our little purge, then they would be far better off with
you than here...for you were very right in saying that hell was coming to
earth. We are bringing it. A very truly needed purge to bind the planets people
into one entity capable of populating "4x" and those other planets
that we are just now becoming aware of.
Slaves you might
say, but when has any world not had it masters and its servants. All in all you
will find less than a two hundred whites on 4x, it was
decided to keep your numbers small.
You will also
find 4x a very harsh and unforgiving planet.
The freedom you
have sought is before you , at least for a time.
There are as yet
no governments, no police forces, or armies against which to spew your
ineffectual rage.
Unfortunately of
course, there is no modern medicine, no preconstructed
shelter, no vehicles, no roads, no power companies, nothing but the emptiness
of a new world.
From what we are
told, there are no indigenous peoples. Only you and the other
colonists.
We have of course
sent people of every race and creed.
Ironic, that for
you to survive you will sooner or latter have to deal with those that you have
hated on earth, and who hate you as well.
I almost pity
you.
In the pod you
will find this computer, a tracker for locating your personal gear pod, and for
locating other colonist pods.
You have roughly
a month in which to do this for if you do not, the batteries will have died
within the tracker and you will be at a loss to find these things.
This computer is
solar powered, its battery has a life span of roughly one hundred and twenty
five years...of course the trip should have used about a hundred of that.
You may ask why
the cruelty...but of course you the rebel would know the answer.
You are not to
have the technology to resist us when we come to populate the planet in force.
You are only to have that which you will need to work the planet into a better
condition for the next wave which will come after you.
Somewhere in
orbit above you are a system of satellites which will
monitor and track colonist settlements. These will be sending back to earth a
steady stream of general information about the size and make up of your
societies.
Do not bother to
try to hide from them, as such non-sense will prove futile.
You may be
wondering why you and not
more soldiers or scientists?
Well...to be
perfectly honest, we didn't expect the ship to survive. If you are watching
this then the ship survived, as did you.
We expect that
roughly 60 percent of the colonists on your ship will die within three years of
planet fall. This number actually is slightly lesser for troops, but then again their is with
troops a greater expense, and a greater chance of effective rebellion. We
simply decided not to take such an extreme expense again.
A hundred years
is a long time, do not believe for a moment that we will forget about you. In
time, we will come and we will take what you have made, and you will be not
even a memory when we have passed.
So, Mr. Wolf good
luck, the computer contains all that we feel you will need to know about your
new world. I will of course never meet you as by the time that you are seeing
this, I will be long dead.
So I will add
that your selection was my choice and so was your order in the planet fall.
Most of those that you hate have been on the surface for at least a month. It
is possible that they may have found you, and you are already dead.
I am a Jew Mr. Wolf, this was the only torture that I could think of that
would properly punish your arrogance and your rabid hatred of my people.
Whatever you build
if you live...will fall to our forces, and if you die you die lost and alone on a world not
your own, far from any who would care.
So, build and
build well so that when we come we will have comfortable homes and sturdy
slaves. "
"Enter your
selection sir...", the computer voice said
seemingly to no one.
Looking at the
screen he chose the "Locate gear pod" command.
.....
Locating.....
Four miles and
change to the
Dalen wolf looked
himself over...Boots, jeans, a pistol belt with canteens, knife, compass,
holster and butt pack, but no pistol, a light shirt, sweater, and that was all.
In the pods metallic shine he could see his reflection. He looked a bit
younger, but that could just be the blur from his eyes.
His focus only slowly returning.
The short cropped blonde hair, now grown to past neck
length. It had never been that long, he thought to himself. As a joke,
someone had given him an earring. He removed it and threw it away. All in all
though, it was him, the slightly scruffy model of an Aryan killing machine.
Tall, thin and blonde with his old darkness of spirit wrapped about him.
He felt in his
pocket...house keys and twenty one dollars. At least they hadn't bother to rob him, he thought.
Before setting
off, he hit the locate colonist pod command.
... locating....
Fifty pods had
landed within the time of his landing or before...most hundreds
, if not thousands , of miles away. Only ten had landed within a few
miles of him. He wondered how many he would know from earth... and how many he
would have to kill.
His mind raced at
the idea of an all white planet. He and his people would start here as a
minority, he knew that. But in time, with faith,....
all things were possible in GOD.
The closest
recently landed colonist pod was only three miles...closer than the gear pod
and on the way. He'd have to make up his mind about that.
Assuming that the fog would
clear anytime soon. The fog of his mind that is.
He closed the
screen...checked for anything useful that he might have missed, covered the pod, and then paused to view his
new world with an awe that touched at the heart of his soul.
Redish and green clouds floated aimlessly across the azure
sky. The planets three suns blazing at different distances.
Each a slightly different hue of gold, the smallest bordering
on fucia.
There was a
simple pristine something that touched at parts of him he refused to admit
existed. The dreams and faith of a child
long dead within him.
The forest a
massive collection of the largest trees he had ever seen, and undergrowth of a
nature that defied his sense of reason.
Lavenders, golds, greens, reds, even blues,
bright purples, the odd occasional white flowering plant.
Somewhere deep
within he said a silent prayer to that long dead childhood god of love and
headed off towards his gear, wondering just what they'd given him.
Dalen had grown
used to the woodlands of earth as a survivalist, racist writer and sometimes
active rebel. This planet had a different feel to it entirely. The sounds were
different, the animals alike but slightly different at a glance, what few of
them could be seen.
As he alternated between
hiking and jogging, he realized that he had a damned limited idea of just what
was dangerous and what wasn't in these woods.
Snakes, bugs, critters and predators. He had a very real
feeling that he should try to avoid contact with anything non -human until he
at least reached his gear. From there he could go back to his pod and see what
the computer had to say about such things. He felt slightly foolish for not
having thought of that first.
Shit happens.
"Snap...".
The sound came
from behind him and off to his right. He couldn't see what had made it, but it
had sounded human ...and in a hurry.
He stopped in his
tracks and dropped to one knee, drawing his knife from it's
beat up old black sheath.
The drop saved
him from having his head cleaved off.
The attacker was some form of Asian, complete with
Dragons head Katana.
His clothing was almost as mottled
and disheveled as Dalen’s own, so Dal'
assumed that he had just arrived. For a
change a Jew hadn't lied...he'd said the odds were stacked against he and
his...and Dalen had a feeling that sword against knives were just the start of
things.
If there was a
bright side, the Dragons head weren't the worlds best
swords. The steel in his Gerber mark two making it a much
better fighting blade.
The distance
factor was a bitch though. A six inch double edged fighting blade versus a
three foot length of fairly sharpened steel.
Good sword or not, it was more than capable of killing
him.
A colonist pods
flare sailed into the sky only a few hundred yards away.
"That little
racist bitch is mine…you piece of white trash.",
it said.
Enemies were "It's", never "He's" or
"She's". The distinction in the mind kept things technical, removed
feeling and other such considerations that might slow reaction time.
Dalen wondered
how it knew that there was a woman in the pod...but not for long.
The sword flew at
him again, he ducked spinning low and right towards a small tree his mind had
seen in the corner of his eye. The Katana struck the tree with a resounding
"Thwang" and it stuck. Dalen's
wraith like form drove his knife into his attackers exposed mid-section time
and time again. Discarding techniq1ue for speed. His arm simply pumping the blade into his foe again and again.
The body slumped , the Dragon's head still stuck in
the thick lavender bark of the unknown tree.
Dalen looked at
his first victim on
his new world...and drawing a deep breath he drove his already
bloodied blade down into it's skull.
The body jerked, dark blackish blue blood spurting from
the head for a moment as he withdrew his blade by palcing
his foot on the dead skull and jerking the stuck weapon free.
It's fresh , warm blood covered his chest, ' One shirt
ruined' he thought as he recoiled for a
moment from the stench of death that enveloped him.
As he looked over
the body he began to realize just how much the odds
were likely to be stacked against he and his kind.
The alien had a
tracking device strapped to his wrist. It showed a much different profile of
the newly fallen pod than his computer had given him.
On the screen the
words..."POD# 1789 -- white female - age sixteen - status frozen --
co-ordinates... vital signs,
remarks..."racist".
His mind
reeled... GOD did these people ever hate his race. Then
again... what better reason to survive.
"Vengeance", that ever
ready justification of the gods.
He found that the
alien was slightly better attired, newer, better made clothing, a back day pack
with 3 days rations, web gear... with two canteens, a better (more expensive) knife
of commercial manufacture, a basic survival manual in the butt pack, compass,
holster (empty), magazine pouches, major trauma dressing, first aid kit and of
course the sword. Fifty feet of light rope, a D-ring, and a top quality
commercial wind breaker finished off it's kit.
The shirt was
ripped, but worth saving for some future purpose.
The pants a bit
too short, but into the day pack none the less.
A decent heavy
flannel undershirt... a bit short in the sleeves and somewhat bloodied...into
the bag.
The boxers would
fit, so would the socks...the boots were a bit too small, but into the bag.
A regular leather belt, black...into the bag.
With the bag
loaded to over filled, he strapped it on and headed toward the colonist pod.
Out of curiosity
he checked the wrist tracer for the location of the aliens gear pod. Whatever it had, it wouldn't be needing.
About two miles,
not far from his own., he set it as a mental note.
"Status...unopened...code...1948576-k"
Chapter 3-
For
better or worse Erick Murphy had always been a big believer in Murphy’s Law,
something he blamed on Murphy having to have been a relative. Unfortunately as
he looked around, the family curse seemed to be striking again and with all of
its force intact.
He was tempted to jinx himself by thinking
that things couldn’t get worse, but of course that’s when they always did…so he
told his brain to shut up and snuck another peek through the window of the only
Pod that had landed in the week since he’d been on the surface.
If there were anyone conscious to talk to
they’d probably be surprised that he wasn’t surprised to have become a first lander even though his scheduled drop order was
thirty-seventh out of sixty.
They
would also be surprised that he was there in the first place since few groups
even had a position for a dedicated hunter in their purview, but since they
needed the bodies...they’d made up the role especially for him and a few other
last minute additions like him that had no other qualifications.
Granted he’d been a soldier, and even a fairly
good one, but like most things in his life that had turned out badly. So it
came as no great surprise to Erick that his peek out the window showed him only
a few dozen dark, short and surprisingly fierce creatures,
that he didn’t yet have a name for, feasting on the dead flesh of six of
the humans he had landed with.
The
seventh, Sky Anderson…the one woman on the trip whom he most detested was of
course the only other living member of what was supposed to have been a five
man landing team and she wasn’t supposed to have been on the planet yet
either…but well, the gods seemed to have a special place in their hearts for
the Murphy clan.
The Murphy spirit however saved the day and
Erick double- checked the door lock, lit a cigarette that he wasn’t supposed to
have brought, and settled into a flask of Johnnie Walker Black that he
definitely wasn’t supposed to have brought along. It helped to drown out the
noise of those things knawing on the bones of people
he might have one day gotten to be friends with. It also drowned out the noise
of their leaving.
Morning and with it a last chug on a nearly
empty flask that would keep him from adding up negative karma points for
alcohol abuse and then a blurry eyed peek out the window to find only bits of
bone and clothing scattered about the clearing that was supposed to be his home
for the next two years.
He paused next to Sky to see that despite his
best wishes the bitch was still breathing, and then a check of his remaining
weapons.
To no surprise he was nearly out of
ammunition, but so were the rest of them.
They’d spent well over two thousand rounds
between them in the week that it had taken most of the party to die and without
much noticeable change in the aggressive nature of the planet’s wild life. If
anything it seemed that the noise brought the assorted predators.
Strange that they’d done so
well against the large predators only to get taken out by a group of pixies.
The little leathery skinned creatures had snuck up through the tall grass that
he had told them to burn…but thanks to Sky’s constant assaults on his
intelligence no one thought of him as much more than the butt of her jokes, and
as such dismissed the idea without much thought.
Well at least he could rectify that oversight before
the suns went down again,
he thought searching around the small cluttered Pod for the flare
gun.
Sky stirred for a moment, so he fed her some
water and then unbuckled the door.
The grass around the Pod was at least tamped down
from the feeding frenzy and the hours that a few hundred of the little brutes
had spent trying to break into the Pod so that they might have more humans to
feed on. It gave him a decent view out to about twenty meters, so his stomach
felt a bit more comfortable about being outside.
He thought for a moment about burying his
teammates, but there wasn’t enough of them left to
bury.
At least the little bastards had left the guns
and anything metal…even if all of it did all have bite marks here and there,
the stuff beat the next to nothing that he had hands down.
And so he robbed the dead, and then fired a half-dozen flares into the direction that the wind was
blowing. Watching hopefully as fires began to grow in the light breeze.
They were going to come towards him at some
point, but the Murphy curse seemed to work in reverse when it came to things
that might kill him. The point of the curse seemed to be in prolonging the
torture of life not in ending it even if it might be a painful end, and so he sprinted
across the field to his personal landing Pod and grabbed out his backpack
knowing that he wasn’t going to get much done without its contents.
A moment later and Erick settled into his
small corner of the otherwise cramped Pod…and thanked the gods for the little
safe space they had sent him. It seemed that so far none of the planet’s
predators had the ability to get through the titanium walls. He knocked twice
upon the pile of plywood that had become his pallet just in case the thought
might be heard and therefore jinx him.
Sky didn’t much believe in such things and had
taken to ridiculing him about it at every opportunity, but well he was alive
and the rest weren’t…and hell the jury was still out on her.
The bitch of it was that he was getting lonely,
he might dislike her, but even bad company beat no company when you were lost
on a strange new world in the midst of a corporate cluster fuck.
He checked the lock yet another time, and then
settled into making an inventory of what was at hand. Granted there were
probably a thousand useful things inside the Pod, but that would require his
moving things out of it and he wasn’t yet prepared to do that.
Erick settled into a quick breakfast and then
refilled his flask from one of the few bottles he’d hidden in his double sized
commercial pack…for not much was going to get done without the aid of whiskey
this fine day.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Not much had gotten done with the aid of
whiskey, but Erick had managed to accomplish more than he’d hoped and even
managed to shoot a snake in the early evening when he’d had no choice but to go
outside to relieve himself. Something or another had come by to remove the
bones and bits of clothes that had been the last remaining evidence that his
team had ever existed, but well…nature had a way of cleaning up after herself
that man had never quite caught on to.
And in time honored tradition, when the going
gets tough…the Murphy’s get drunk and so he awoke to the second morning after
the attack with Sky at least semi-conscious.
With
the food running out, and her prospects looking iffy, it took a bit of moral
wrestling to get himself to actually feed her, but she did seem the better for
it.
He scanned the windows for signs of life and
not seeing any ventured outside. He knew that he wasn’t being the bravest of
men, but he’d seen what blind bravery accomplished and there wasn’t enough left
of the bodies to even bother with a monument to stupidity.
Still the fire had served its purpose and to
no surprise had left his little Pod blissfully alone. He could now see a few
hundred meters in every direction though off to the west the fire still seemed
to be going. He could see the smoke from a few miles away and lines of charred
earth following behind it to about sixty feet from where he stood.
What
surprised him was that the forest fire that he had started seemed to quell his
fears. Animals didn’t seem to have much use for burned forests and since he
hadn’t met an animal on the face of the planet that hadn’t attacked him…he kind
of figured all the better. Though the Murphy curse told him that the biggest
and meanest predators would of course lie in any direction except to the
west…he still felt comfortable enough to start unloading the gear Pod a little.
Wood and allot of it filled the greater part
of the morning, followed by tools and other construction supplies that chewed
up part of the early afternoon.
But around three he found a ray of hope in the
shape of a pair of sofas, which he moved into the space he’d created and moved
Sky onto one taking the time to feed her again.
He
knew from what he’d been moving that the only Pod to so far land had to be a
personal gear Pod and even the dumbest colonist had brought food and backup
weapons and ammunition. They’d been told not to spend too heavily on any one
area, but they’d also been told in no uncertain terms to spend at least a
little on each of the basic areas. Granted finding what he’d been looking for
took nearly until suns set but at least he’d found it. What he hadn’t found
were tarps, and something had already eaten the only tent that had landed with
them. He didn’t really want to leave what he’d moved out on the ground because
the creatures of his new world didn’t seem all that picky about what they ate.
He thought about that for a moment, and then
lit a cigarette, and took a pull on his flask. Moving it all in the first place
had been enough real work for one day and he’d be damned if he’d be caught
outside in the dark. The brave people could hang in the dark, those who thought
that man was the spearhead of evolution and all that top of the food chain
stuff. Erick had seen enough of those people buy it over the years to
understand that man wasn’t worth much of a shit in the natural world without
his weapons and tools and numbers, and this place was shaping up to be fifty
times as nasty as earth’s most dreaded jungles and woodlands.
Erick’s great plan was to use the rather weak
indoor lights to sort out what ever of what he had found would be of value in
trying to survive.
As he closed the door Sky began a coughing
fit…and not knowing what else to do, he fed her a couple of shots from his
flask.
------------------------------------------------------------------
“How’d I know you’d be one to survive?” Sky
said as morning broke bringing Erick back from a blissful if somewhat drunken
world of dreams.
“By the gods woman a simple thank you would
suffice…” He said groggily.
“Thank
you, for what getting me drunk…” she began seeming to be getting set up for a
good rant.
“For feeding you, caring for you and keeping
you alive…and I’ll be damned if I know why? You’ve been nothing but mouth since
we woke up on this rock and if you don’t learn how to keep a civil tongue in that
head of yours I’m going to conk you on it with something solid just so’s a man might know a moments peace.” Erick said lighting
a cigarette.
“You know this was a non-smoking expedition
right?” she asked rising to an elbow.
“Here…”
he said handing her the flask “I liked you better unconscious…” and he walked
out the door.