Chapter Five
Banging metal woke Nash from a deep sleep. He jerked into a sitting position and tried to clear his head. The room was uncomfortably quiet due to lack of the usual noises of humming electronics. He blinked several times, trying to focus in the dim room which was only lit by a beam of sunlight streaming through the small portal window. As the fog of sleep left his eyes, he was just able to make out his computer console, right next to his collection of history books on the desk. On the floor near the bed lay his clothes from the previous day, which had been tossed there in the haste to get to bed.
The crash landing had been the start of a very long night. As people poured out of the wreckage of the Trident, nobody was prepared for the number of injuries the crash landing had wrought. Like most of the ship, sickbay was without power so much of Dr. Talhoo’s equipment was inoperative. With so many injured and only battery powered medical devices available, the sickbay staff was overwhelmed. Many volunteers helped Dr. Talhoo, but in the end, four of the severely injured died.
Nash spent much of his time directing tasks to get everyone through the night. The crash damaged a large portion of the crew and passenger quarters, so Nash decided to use the launchbay as a dormitory. The work to get beds, blankets, and other supplies moved into the gymnasium-sized room proceeded at a breakneck speed, all in an effort to beat the setting sun and avoid using electric lighting. As the night grew cold, parties headed to the edge of the forest to gather wood for warming fires. Chief Jordan’s group started installing the solar panels, hoping to complete the task before dawn. It was nearly morning when Nash finally managed to lay down for some sleep.
The banging started again; Nash realized the sound was someone pounding on the door to his quarters.
No power, no door chimes, he thought.
“Colonel,” came McBride’s voice.
“Just a second,” Nash said groggily. He rubbed his face, stood, and then slid the door open to reveal McBride.
“Oh,” McBride said on viewing the bare-chested Nash. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I guess I woke you.”
Nash nodded. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Five hours. Sir, we’ve made a few discoveries about this planet that you should be apprised of as soon as possible.”
“Alright. Give me ten minutes.”
“I’ll meet you at the command tent, Colonel.”
Nash dressed, then placed his hands under his sink and waited for the water to come on. Nothing happened.
Moron. There’s no power, no water, no nothing. It would take time to get used to a powerless lifestyle.
On exiting the ship, he found a cool day with the barest hint of a breeze. The sun was high overhead and bathed Nash in a warm, not altogether unpleasant light. He stood for a moment, enjoying the sun and watching crew and colonist alike as they bustled around the area performing essential tasks side by side. A huge pile of firewood had been stacked near the tail end of the ship. Not far from where Nash exited the ship, a large canopy stood, protecting several tables from the Trident’s mess hall. McBride stood under the canopy, digging through a large plastic crate. Nash walked toward her.
“Breakfast, Colonel?” McBride asked.
“Absolutely. What’s on the menu?”
Without a word, McBride reached into a crate and pulled out a heavy plastic envelope the size of a computer tablet. She tossed the package to Nash, who caught it with a frown.
Great. Emergency rations.
McBride saw the frown on Nash’s face. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind eating ration packets.”
“Try living on them for four months straight,” Nash said dryly as he tore open the plastic package.
“I see your point,” she replied with a half-smile.
Nash pulled out a packet of ready to drink coffee and an envelope marked Bean burrito omelet. As expected, the coffee was fine, if not a bit strong. However, the omelet was very bland with a heavy, pasty consistency. He looked around in the main packet and found a small bottle of Tabasco sauce, which he promptly drained into the omelet packet.
Better hot and spicy than tasteless.
“Aren’t you going to heat it?” McBride asked. “That’s why they include the chemical heating packet.”
Nash shook his head. “I got used to eating them this way during the war. Anyway, while I’m eating, give me a rundown of what’s been going on since I went to sleep.”
“Dr. Talhoo reports those injured in the crash are doing well. While there were a lot of injuries, the majority weren’t serious.” McBride cleared her throat. “Furthermore, one of the colonists is a Catholic Priest. Father John Powers is his name. He asked me about doing a service for the four who perished.”
“I didn’t know there were clergy of any faith aboard,” Nash mused.
“I didn’t either, Colonel. He has talked to the families of the deceased, and they all confirm that they want a memorial.”
“Tell him to make the preparations, but make it as multi-denominational as possible. You and I may be Roman Catholic, but who knows how many others are. Last thing I want is a religious war.”
“I will talk with him, Colonel.”
“So what else?” Nash asked.
“Solar panel installation is complete and charging the battery bank. Power has been restored to a small area of the ship centered around the engine room.”
“What about power to the galley so we don’t have to eat these damn things?”
“Chief Jordan has a team building wood-fired cook stoves using salvaged materials from the destroyed nacelle. Jason and Steve Rohan, the two metalworking brothers, came up with the design; said it’s based on something from the late nineteenth century. The Chief says they really know their stuff.”
“What are the colonists up to?”
“After he heard about cook stoves, Myron Decker put a large portion of the colonists to work on collecting and cutting firewood. There are also some who are helping our crew with things like debris cleanup and sickbay.”
Nash forced down another bite of his omelet. “Good work. So why don’t you show me your discovery?”
“Maybe you should finish your breakfast first, Colonel.”
“Believe me, there’s nothing you can show me that will ruin my appetite.”
McBride shrugged. “Follow me, sir.”
Nash followed McBride toward an area just outside of the forest. Dr. Tahoo and three of the galley crew stood around a long, stainless table. The doctor noticed the two approaching officers and motioned for them to come near.
“Hello, Colonel,” Talhoo said with his usual smile. “I assume you’ve come to witness our little discovery.”
“That’s right, Doc,” Nash said. His eyes worked over the table. There were two partially butchered animals; one resembled a skinned pig. The other had been butchered into various cuts of meat. He took another bite of his breakfast and stared at the carcasses for a moment. He swallowed the mouthful and then said, “Looks like a couple of hogs.”
“Quite correct, Colonel,” Talhoo said with a nod. “The creatures wandered upon a couple of crew members gathering firewood. They shot the animals with a plasma pistol with the hopes of extending our food supply. I was called in to check the creatures out and make sure they’d be safe for human consumption.”
“So what did you find out? Nash asked. “Are they safe to eat?”
The doctor cocked his head from left to right. “They’re safe to eat, Colonel. What’s more, they’re from Earth.”
Nash stopped with the spoon just shy of his mouth. He slowly lowered it back to the plastic envelope. “Whoa, wait a minute. What do you mean they’re from Earth?”
“I ran a blood sample and my medical scan pulled up a perfect DNA match. This isn’t an alien animal that happens to look like a pig; it is a pig. This particular species is Sus scrofa, subspecies ussuricus, also known as the Manchurian Wild Boar.”
Nash took a long draw on his coffee packet. After a hard swallow
, he looked at the doctor. “So what are you thinking? Some traders or pirates stopped on this planet and pigs got away from them?”
“At first that occurred to me. Then one of the colonists brought me into the forest.” Talhoo took a deep breath and continued. “Colonel, from what I have seen thus far, most if not all of the life is native to some other planet, including Earth. We’ve identified vegetation and animals from twelve different systems.”
McBride crossed her arms. “Could this planet be a terraforming project?”
“If so, the engineering of the planet’s surface took place hundreds, if not thousands of years ago,” the doctor replied. “Have either if you been in the forest yet?” Both Nash and McBride shook their heads. “There are White Oak trees with trunks more than a meter and a half in diameter.”
“Those don’t grow overnight,” Nash mused.
“Precisely,” Talhoo replied.
“Colonel,” McBride started, “if the trees are really that old, who planted them? It wasn’t any human; we’ve only had faster than light drive for one hundred and fifty years. Those trees must be way older than that.”
“I don’t know,” Nash said with a shake of the head. “While it’s a mystery, let’s not lose focus on our primary concern— survival. It does make a few things easier for us, though.”
“In what way?” the doctor asked.
“If we can identify a species of plant or animal, we don’t have to research its properties. From historical record, we know what white oak has been used for. And we don’t have to experiment on every animal we come across to find out if it’s safe for consumption.”
Talhoo cocked an eyebrow. “I had not considered that, Colonel, but you are quite correct.”
Nash turned to McBride. “I want you to talk with Decker. Have him find any colonists who know anything about raising pigs. If we could capture some of these things, maybe we could pen them up and raise them for a steady supply of food.”
“Colonel Nash,” one of the galley crew said.
“Yes.”
“Sir, I know we have to figure out ways to feed everyone. We have several hundred pounds of fresh potatoes that are stored in the stasis chamber. Why not plant some of them? With no power to the stasis chamber, they’re going to start to sprout anyway.”
Nash looked at McBride. “What do you think?”
“It may be a worthwhile long-term investment,” McBride replied.
Nash nodded. “Discuss potato farming with Decker as well.”
“Right away, Colonel.”
Nash turned to the galley crewman. “Good thinking. You guys butchering the hogs for dinner?”
“Yes, sir. At least if we get the new wood-fired stoves soon enough. Otherwise it’ll be tomorrow.”
“I see. Carry on,” Nash said. He turned his attention to McBride. “Any idea on where the Chief is?”
McBride shook her head.
“Chief Jordan headed toward the river a few minutes before your arrival,” Dr. Talhoo said. He pointed with a stubby finger. “That direction, maybe a kilometer. Two of the colonists were with him.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Nash said. “Major McBride, feel like taking a walk with me to the river?”
“Sir, I’d like to check on the debris cleanup. I also need to find Decker and go over the items we discussed.”
“That’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit then.”
The trek toward the river skirted the edge of the meadow, allowing Nash to see a wide variety of vegetation. He recognized some plants from Earth, but many were new to him. Scattered through the meadow was a strange flower that reminded him of black-eyed susans, except with pale pink petals and a deep purple center. Thousands of small, orange petaled flowers skirted the treeline. But his favorite looked to be a thistle growing along the forest-meadow border. Its tall, slender stems stood chest high, with prickly leaves and a puffy flowerhead of a washed out golden color.
Soon the din of cascading water found Nash’s ears. He followed the sound and came upon a narrow riverbed constraining a fast flowing current. The riverbank was coated in smooth, round stones in a fantastic variety of colors. He saw hues of grays, browns, reds, as well as those with color combinations that seemed to be swirled together. Those along the water’s edge appeared glossy to the point of being almost glass-like.
Finding no one, Nash continued downstream toward the sound of crashing water. After about ten minutes of walking, he discovered the source of the sound; a waterfall. Cascading water fell over twenty meters before colliding with massive boulders and creating a white, frothy pool. Standing near the falls was Jordan and companions. He could see them speak to each other, but the roar of the waterfall prevented him from hearing them. He yelled and waved his arms, and after a moment, the Chief noticed him. He pointed to a large outcropping that overlooked the waterfall and everyone headed in that direction.
“Definitely worth looking at,” Nash said loudly. “Back on Earth, this would be a tourist attraction.”
“Reminds me of Cumberland Falls in Kentucky. Helluva view,” Jordan said with a grin. He pointed to the two colonists standing near. “Sir, this is Natasha Marov and Jake Phillips. They’ve got some ideas that’ll interest you.”
Tall and spindly, wearing baggy blue jeans and a loose, worn sweatshirt, Jake Phillips looked like a man in need of a meal. Sunken cheeks covered in three day stubble, deep set eyes, and a charcoal gray ponytail only accentuated the image of a homeless man. Only the glint in his eyes betrayed the hidden intellect behind the shoddy appearance.
Natasha Marov was somewhat short and carried few extra pounds which left her body with exaggerated curves. Her straight, shiny black hair fell to her collar and turned slightly at the ends. High arching eyebrows and heavy lids displayed her deep brown eyes, which had gold flecks that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.
“Been looking forward to meeting you, Colonel,” Phillips said as he gave Nash a vigorous handshake.
Nash nodded.
“Hello,” Marov said with a thick Russian accent. “Please forgive me; English is not my native language.”
“Never would have guessed,” Nash said with a smile. “I guess that means you’re not from the US?”
“No, although I have spent time in your country. I was graduate student at the University of Cincinnati and spent several years in your country.”
Nash arched his left eyebrow. “Really? That’s where I went to college.”
Marov smiled. “It is—how do they say— a small world.”
“I would have guessed you went to the Coalition Academy,” Phillips said to Nash.
“No,” Nash said with a shake of the head. “I became an officer through Officer Candidate School. Never intended to join up, but the war started and I volunteered. Fifteen years later, I’m still in uniform.”
“Ninety day wonder,” Jordan mumbled.
“Not everyone can be a third generation academy brat,” Nash said as he glared at Jordan. “Anyway, that’s not important right now. What is it you wanted to show me?”
“This.” Phillips unrolled a large sheet of paper.
Nash looked and saw what appeared to be a map of the surrounding area. He could make out the forest, the meadow, and the river. Penciled-in squares and rectangles covered the vicinity of the crash site, while the entire page was inked with notations. As he studied the sketch, Marov began to speak. “We propose to build village around the crash site and set up industrial area here.”
Nash looked up from the drawing. “You three have been busy this morning, haven’t you?”
Phillips grinned. “Most of this layout is Natasha’s handiwork; she’s the architect. I’m a mechanical engineer by trade, so I’ve been trying to come up with ideas for building the things that will make our life easier.”
“Such as?” Nash asked.
“Here’s where we are now.” Phillips pointed to the map. “I want to use the river to build a hydroelectric generator.”
“Woul
d that meet our power needs?” Nash asked.
“That’s the kicker, sir,” Jordan added. “Spinnin’ a generator with water is the easy part. Gettin’ the power back to the crash site is the tough part. We just don’t have enough power cable to get from here to there. That’s why we thought of usin’ the power here, on-site, and make this our industrial center.”
“So far, we have plans for sawmill, water tower, and metal fabrication shop,” Marov added.
“Why not just build our settlement here? Nash asked. “Then we’re right next to the power generator.”
“Perhaps you wish to live in the shadow of a power station? Marov said flatly. “Or possibly next door to a sawmill?”
“I see your point,” Nash replied. His eyes drifted back to the drawings. “You do think big, don’t you?”
“Everything I have done is based on assumption that we never leave this planet,” Marov said.
Both Nash and Jordan looked at her.
“What?” she asked. “You cannot tell me the thought has not occurred to you. Everyone wishes we will be rescued next week, but it is best to assume we will never be found.”
“I considered it, but hadn’t announced it to the passengers or the crew,” Nash said.
Marov frowned slightly and arched an eyebrow. “It is best if they accept facts, is it not?”
“I don’t disagree,” Nash said. “I just didn’t know how everyone would react.”
“Anyway,” Phillips said with a wave of the hand, “we’ve also been looking at the different raw materials we have to work with. There’s plenty of large timber in the forest, also sand and stone along the river.”
“The subsoil is heavy clay,” Marov added.
“What would we use the clay for?” Nash asked.
“Clay soil such as this can be mixed with sand and stone, then compressed under pressure into bricks.”
“Mr. Phillips and I—” Jordan began.
Phillips interrupted. “Jake, please.”
“Jake and I,” Jordan corrected, “have been lookin’ at schematics of these brick presses. Don’t look too hard to build. And they run on people power.”
“All of your ideas sound great to me, so I think what we need to do is get together with Decker and figure out what we need to do to implement these things.”
“Sounds good, Colonel.”
Nash tapped his comstrap and spoke into the face.
“Major Dara McBride.”
“McBride here, Colonel.”
“Major, have you met with Decker?” Nash asked.
“I am with him now, Colonel.”
“Good. Meet me and the Chief at the Trident. He and a couple of the colonists have some ideas that will take Decker’s help to implement.”
“Understood, Colonel.”
“Additionally, tomorrow I want to take a team to the native village and meet the locals. I need a linguist, Doctor Talhoo, a security team of four, and Davenport to accompany me.”
“I will inform them, Colonel.”
“Alright. Nash out.”
“Colonel,” Marov said, “I would like to join you tomorrow. I wish to see the native dwellings; it may give me insight to what works well for homes in this region.”
“It’s a long walk,” Nash said. “Mr. Davenport tells me it’s around fifteen kilometers.”
Marov pinched a handful of flab from around her waist. “Good. I want this gone.”
Nash chuckled. “OK, come along. And I think we should all head toward the Trident now, so we can get these ideas of yours under way.”