***
Morris guided the float on a twisty path between two mountains. Trust Lace to pick the only mountain range close to the camp to study behind. More than once he considered shifting the float out of hover mode and into high-flight but Harkin's report on the thermals and currents dissuaded him. Morris' stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten lunch. He didn't want to stop in transit and with a problem of undefined scope he'd probably miss dinner as well. His stomach growled again and he growled back at it.
Morris started a downlink from the damaged hover's computer to his. Since he had no line of sight he relayed through the gensats and they responded slowly. Once he crossed the first peak he had the problem narrowed down to the turbos but nothing more.
Morris grounded his float next to the damaged one. Lace waved from where she studied some bushy plant. Delroy, seated atop the damaged hover's canopy, nodded once and resumed her watch. He saw no sign of Rackwell.
"He's there," said Delroy without looking, pointing to a small copse of trees, "There were no bioform readings and he wanted samples."
"Recall him please, Specialist. It's procedure so I must insist. He's outside safe proximity anyway."
Delroy nodded and reached for her 'comm. Morris heard her speaking, then quoting from the Hostile Terrain protocol. He jacked his datapad into the float's computer and dropped it on the seat. Lace stood, stretched and started toward them.
Skeptical of his results, Morris tore into the offending thruster. What he saw made no sense. The inside of the space was coated with a mixture of lubricant, grit and degraded sealant. By the look of it an inert biodyne seal ruptured. The seal, composed of a complex organic-plastic compound, should have adapted itself to best seal its enclosure. Failing at that it should have generated an alert condition to initiate a non-catastrophic shutdown with diagnostic tags. Not only did the seal fail to adapt, it exposed the more sensitive sealant beneath it to Dustball's oxygen- and sulfur-rich atmosphere. That allowed a fine spray of sticky grit into the turbo's delicate inner workings with none of the primary safeties triggered until the abrasive damage finally set off the hardwired failsafes.
"Can you fix it," asked Lace as Morris wiggled out of the machine.
"Not easily and certainly not here. Was there any warning at all?"
Lace shook her head. "No. We were cruising along when the left thruster started hissing. There wasn't an alert so we figured it fixed itself. I ran the quickies when it got louder but they came back clear. There was a minor loss of thrust but no stop-imperative. Then the reds went off and we drifted slowly to the ground."
Morris pondered this. "I can't do anything here. Help me load it on the cargo and we'll take it back to the ship." He looked around. "Specialist, where is Rackwell?"
She pointed. When Morris looked he saw nothing. He reached for his own 'comm.
"Doctor Rackwell, we're leaving now. Please return to the float immediately."
"Negative," replied Rackwell, "We've barely arrived and I have some interesting samples to collect here."
"Doctor Rackwell," said Morris, exasperated, "We will be leaving in a matter of minutes. You must return to the float now."
"In that case you can pick me up here. I shan't move far."
"Doctor, under article..."
"Spare me your regulations, please, Morris. You're wasting time I can use for investigation and you for repair." He cut the link.
Morris stared at Delroy, furious and dumbfounded. Rackwell had broken every tenet of procedure, convention and common sense.
"I logged it," said Delroy.
"Thank you, Specialist." Morris hadn't even considered the log; he thought it unnecessary. "I suppose we'll just pick him up on the way out."
With Lace's help Morris loaded the smaller float onto the larger. Not a difficult task since its gravitics still worked. Morris set it to neutral buoyancy and the two of them moved it slowly onto the cargo platform. Morris killed the lift and they lashed it down. He jacked his datapad into the cargo float for uplinking. The gensats acknowledged and began the transfer.
When they reached the edge of the trees Morris saw no sign of Rackwell and no easy access to his last reported position. He caught an intermittent reading roughly where Rackwell might be. He backed up the hover far enough for high-fly and triggered the jets. Several gauges complained and the scanner fuzzed, which only piqued Morris' irritation.
"Specialist, please record this officially."
Lace started to say something but thought twice on it. Delroy acknowledged and began giving mission identifications and specifics. A clearing opened ahead of them but the scanner refused to pinpoint Rackwell there. Lace spotted him, too close to the edge of the clearing for them to land comfortably but barely distant enough to avoid violation of hostile terrain protocol. Morris landed and edged as close to Rackwell as he could.
"Dr. Rackwell," said Morris sternly, "We are leaving. Now!"
"Just a moment, Morris. I only need a few more samples."
The look Morris gave Delroy was almost as furiously incredulous as the one she returned. The man was intractable! The two of them started for Rackwell with Lace wisely staying behind.
"Doctor Rackwell!" Morris concealed none of his anger, "You are in violation of Hostile Terrain Protocol sections 3.14a through..."
***
What happened next haunted Morris' nightmares for weeks.
Rackwell, rising with a look of stark indignation on his face.
Teeth! A massive mouth full of wicked, sharp, jagged teeth running at Rackwell with impossible speed.
Lethargy! Panic! Delroy starting to voice a cry. Too late!! Time slowing to an infinitesimal crawl.
The thing caught Rackwell low and from behind. It tore into his leg, shook him and flung him into the air. From the corner of his eye Morris saw Delroy's laser steadying with his a fraction of a second behind.
A harsh, tortured scream from Rackwell. Too late!
Delroy and Morris firing as one. Her shot hitting behind the thing's jaw and scraping down its flank. Morris thumbing his pistol to continuous and landing his beam between its baleful eyes. The thing squealed; Delroy hit its back leg. It started to leap and twist. Morris held his beam steady, its powerful emitter pumping untold joules of energy into the creature's head.
Delroy, sobbing in frustration, walking her shots up the thing's torso to its head. Rackwell hitting the ground with a sickening wet crunch, then rolling and bouncing. Lace screaming behind them.
The thing jerked and spasmed, spoiling Morris' aim. Rents and tears appeared in its flesh as its fluids and tissues, superheated to vapor, sought escape.
The beast twitching on the ground, dying. Morris scanning the edge of the clearing for others. Delroy pumping shot after shot into its jerking carcass. Rackwell rolling to a flaccid halt.
***
Time snapped back to its normal pace. Morris found himself aware of the senses he'd locked out. The hiss of Delroy's laser. His own pounding heart. The foul smell from the creature. He ran for Rackwell, trusting Delroy to cover him.
The man was a mangled mess. Morris saw no sign of life but his questing fingers found a pulse, thready and erratic.
"Jena!"
After seconds that seemed hours Lace skidded to the ground beside him with an aid kit in her hands. Though Morris knew first aid his skill fell far short of this.
Pale and shaken, Lace moved with hasty confidence. She administered four quick hypos, a coagulant and a prestasis drug. Morris shuddered at the dosage but didn't speak. She quickly cut away the remnants of his pants leg, wrapped the... mess in an antiseptic skinsplint and sealed it. She ran a medscanner across his body.
"Holy heaven's flames," said Jena, "Double his oxygen concentration, Morris. Make sure the seal is tight. Then add opigine and salax vapor and leach him. Five units. Splint his arms."
As Morris worked Lace did something ghastly with a long needle probe. Rackwell's breathing stabilized but remained very shallow. He
connected the requisite injectors to Rackwell's respirator and tightened it against his face. Morris located the leaches, self-injecting synthetic blood tansfusers, and attached them to Rackwell's neck. When they found the appropriate spot and began pumping he carefully splinted Rackwell's arms.
"Back brace," said Lace.
"Should we put him in stasis?"
"No. Even with the prep drug he's had too much gross physical damage. The autoconfig won't work and I'm not good enough to do it manually."
They carefully placed the brace around Rackwell. After a long minute to evaluate it attached and stiffened. When the pressure increased Rackwell moaned and twitched his hands: a good sign.
"Let's get him into the float," said Lace.
Chapter 12. Members Down!!
"Crash blue! Crash blue!" Lace didn't wait for acknowledgement before launching into a medically complex description of Rackwell's condition.
Morris heard Kody answer and removed them from his mind. They needed to get back fast. Rackwell and Lace were strapped in.
Delroy stood, statue still, laser still leveled at the creature's smoldering carcass. When he approached Morris saw her hand tensing and relaxing as she continued pulling the trigger, again and again. The laser, its powerclip long exhausted, didn't fire.
"Specialist. Specialist!"
A drop of blood trickled down Delroy's chin from where she'd bitten her lip. Her face had no color and spastic tremors, rigidly suppressed, racked her body and arms.
"Crystal!"
Morris removed the laser from her nerveless grasp, took her shoulders and shook her.
"Specialist. Crystal. Come back. Now!"
Awareness finally seeped into her gaze. She focused on Morris, then what lay beyond him.
"Is... Is..."
"It's dead, Specialist. We need to leave now."
Delroy nodded shakily and followed Morris back to the float. Lace spoke with Jackson now, commenting on the monitor uplinked to him. Morris strapped Delroy in tightly. He thumbed the secure compartment on his harness and felt the cool plastic between his fingers. He inserted the override key into the float's computer, entered his ident and crypto and issued the command for full power.
The float's docile traffic and control computer designed for idiot-proof and safe use powered down and the hardwired override unit took over.
"Brace and hold," said Morris, "This is not going to be smooth."
Time moved at two speeds. As Morris pushed the float, a vehicle designed primarily for close-to-ground non-aerodynamic use, to the edge of its envelope time moved far too quickly. He dodged terrain and fought the winds by reflexes trained into him in the hopes he'd never need them.
As the distance to the ship decreased time moved far too slowly. Morris felt like Rackwell's life leaked out in streams with himself and Lace powerless to stop it.
How Morris completed that hellish trip he never knew. He didn't really see the ship until he landed beside it and Jackson and Kody put Rackwell on a stretcher and hurried into it. Polov and Eisley unstrapped Delroy, whispering softly all the while. Harkin took Lace toward the ship.
When Morris tried to leave the float the straps tightened and prevented it. That reminded him of the override key which he retrieved and put back into its place. Finally he let the float go and started up the ramp into the ship. Harper was right there with vague words of reassurance. She motioned him toward her office.
Morris tossed down the small glass Harper gave him in one swallow. The stuff hit him like an icy wave of hot thunder. The room blurred, his entire body tingled and the room snapped back into focus.
"What... is that?"
"Don't ask," said Harper, "I need a report as soon as you're able."
Morris nodded. With no detail omitted he recounted everything from the time he left the ship to landing beside it. She recorded it emotionlessly, stopping him when she needed clarification.
"Go to sick bay," she said, "Be there when Jared finishes."
***
After a trio of hours that passed like years Jackson emerged from the operating theatre. Several others sat beside Morris but his entire attention focused on Jackson.
"Don't look like that Morris," said Jackson, "Of course he'll live. He wouldn't dare die now, the site still isn't cracked."
Numb relief and release flooded through Morris. On seeing that Jackson turned serious.
"You all did a fine job. Rack doesn't have anything that time, rest and some tissue regeneration won't fix. Three to five days he should be walking around. Slowly, but still walking." Jackson considered this. "Aww, frost! He'll probably be jawflappin' about it tomorrow!"
Jackson's flip comment after such a gut-wrenching ordeal told Morris all he needed to know. If Jackson wasn't worried then neither would be Morris!
"Thanks Jared."
***
Morris looked at the plate of food Polov set before him. Lace sat across, picking at hers. Delroy was absent. Kody had probably read Morris' report but the others knew something bad had happened. Morris left the detailing to Harper. He felt drained, physically and emotionally; from her expression Lace did as well. Brief flashes of the incident replayed themselves but Morris couldn't react to them.
"You should eat, sir," said Polov.
Jena nibbled a bit but, for all his hunger at missing lunch, Morris couldn't.
"He'll live," mumbled Lace, mostly to herself.
"Jared said he will," returned Morris.
Eisley and Garrett sat nearby with Harkin, an implacable rock of serenity, behind them. Then his facade broke. Or perhaps he simply didn't bother holding it. Though calm and encouraging others by example, Harkin looked old now. Morris knew him older than the others by a considerable margin but now he showed it.
"We're fine, Culle."
"I know, Morris, but friends are there even when you don't need them."
After a while Jackson joined them. He was visibly tired and when he drew his plate it held far less than his normal, titanic ration.
"There was a lot of damage," said Jackson, serious now, "I repaired everything I could. The bones are fine, he'll just need time for that. His liver and kidneys are regenerating nicely but he'll probably have problems with his intestines."
Eisley paled at this. Polov's expression deepened and Garrett shook his head.
"It's not supposed to be this way," said Eisley.
Harkin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"This is the part you don't see, Tina," he said gently, "This is why some Survey teams don't make it back."
"I should have gone," said Polov, "If I hadn't broken that plotter it would have been me."
"Stop it!" The strength in Morris' voice surprised him and the others. "It was an accident, Greg. There's no way you can predict them or control when they happen. It was not your fault."
Polov looked unconvinced.
"It was just as much mine, then," said Morris, "for pulling you in and assigning you the repairs."
"Or mine," added Jena, "for not insisting on taking you."
"Or mine," said Harper, entering the lounge, "for authorizing the mission in the first place."
Harper exuded a calmness totally separate from any facade she might show.
"We knew the risks when we took the mission," continued Harper, "as did Dr. Rackwell. He'll be back in a few days, none the worse for things. In the meantime we have a mission to do and I expect all of you to do it."
Eisley looked ready to lash out at Harper for this.
"What would Dr. Rackwell say," asked Harper with careful calculation, "if he saw you three dragging about like you'd lost your pet cat? He'd have your skin for a carpet, am I understood?"
Polov nodded followed by Garrett and finally Eisley. Harper turned her attention to Morris and Lace.
"That goes for the two of you as well, and Specialist Delroy. I've reviewed your reports and you acted in a timely, proper and exemplary fashion. You may well receive a League commendation for this so no
second-guessing! No third-guessing or fourth-guessing either. Understood?"
Morris and Lace nodded.
Afterward, with an attempted return to normalcy Jackson discussed the progress made on the base camp.
"Most of the conduits and channels are in," said Jackson, "and we'll be ready for zrock tomorrow. I did some test pours, Morris, and it'll work perfectly. Which reminds me, any time you're ready Ron's herc-qualified by me."
Caught unawares, Garrett mumbled something self-effacing.
"I'll check you tomorrow," said Morris.
"That brings up another point," said Lace, "and the reason we left today. Preliminary tests on the soil chemistry and existing biology show eighty-seven percent compatibility with zweed. The 7vi strain should grow quite nicely there."
Morris winced at that.
"What's wrong," asked Lace, "I know the type-7 strains don't produce as much resin but we can compensate with extra production. We can probably even go full-automation with it."
"Type-7 is extremely prolific," said Morris, "Think about the native vegetation that it would choke out. You'd have to monitor closely and certainly not automate!"
"Native herbivores should be able to eat it," said Lace, "The fibrous cell structure is digestible... Wait a milli! Does Tech training extend to synthetic botany now?!"
"No," said Morris, "I grew up on Acre on a versoy farm. My parents lost a crop one year because a development strain of Type-7 got loose. The sap clogged the harvesters and cleaners and cost a lot to fix."
"I didn't know you were from Acre," said Lace, "Don't worry, the strains are tamer now."
"I still say watch it closely!"
When Lace noticed she had an audience she switched to lecture mode.
"We're talking about resinweed," she explained, "irreverently known as 'zweed.' That's the 'z' in zrock. The original strain was in fact a rather bothersome weed native to Goldensheaf. The sap," Lace nodded at Morris, "tended to clog machinery and stick to everything. The planetary government hired GeneTec to take care of the problem."
"GeneTec is a multisector League company," interjected Jackson, "They specialize in custom genetics and synthetic botany. They've helped adapt a lot of food crops to different planets."
"And they developed spectra 3 through 11 resinweed strains," continued Lace, "The which is their claim to fame. They did help Goldensheaf but they kept enough original plants to splice into a range of hearty and sap-rich plants. That lifted zrock from the castles of the wealthy and extravagant to one of the cheapest construction materials throughout the League."