(
Left off from...)
Len returned to the clearing, behind him yet another group of tired, confused, anxious colonists. They clutched to what meager belonings they had, or were burdened with my Len's orders. Stepping out onto the clay they joined in with the first batch. And like a missing glove, joined perfectly with the lost and disorganized group, drifting into some kind of position.
"Old man, sir!" Teshlena shouted to Len, running up to him. Her face was twisted and troubled. Len how ever ignored her concern.
"Not now." he said, waving her off, watching his second group assume a position before turning off back into the marsh.
"But it's important!" she cried out. But Len didn't believe her.
"When I'm finished." Len bit, walking back into the thick forest.
Group by group Len led his crew of survivors into the swamp. Teams of seven, or nine, in all. Each time he returned to the outcropping where they camped he got more concerned looks. Simon himself watched him curiously, in some state between shock and green ignorance. Every time Len saw him, he grew angry. Not just at him, but his trainers in general. How come he did not understand? Had he not been in the field? Never the less, he needed him here. He needed at least a single soldier to watch him back, even if he wasn't armed with anything but a small handgun.
And again every time Len arrived back at the new camp, Teshlena approached him again with worry. But each time he ignored her. Choosing to ignore the rampant anxiety. And even the subtle hints of concern on their faces or in the way they moved.
The process took the better part of the afternoon. The last group carried Simon, and the injured Technician that Len carried. This was the slowest. Weighed down by the older men and women in the group, the injured specialist, and a new foot soldier. And again as he arrived at the new camp Teshlena rushed to Len. She had not even become anxious, but she was furiously angry.
"Hey old man!" she boomed loudly, "What d'he hell was you ignoring me for!?" she roared.
Len restrained the urge to wail her across the head with the back of his hand. He traded instead for a hot predatory snarl as the fires inside him cooked again, "What?" he said in a pained growl.
"What d'he hell did you ignore me like d'hat!?" Teshlena boomed, "Did you not tell somed'hing was up!?"
Len looked at her, then up at the group. He went over them, doing a head count. All thirty were there. "I don't see anything wrong." he growled, "There were thirty left off our ship, and there are thirty still."
"D'hat's not d'he point!" Teshlena shouted, "D'here's somed'ing out d'ere."
"Of course there is, this is an alien planet." Len replied dryly, pushing passed the anxious youth into the middle of the camp. He'd been in the jungle before.
"No really, I saw somed'hing, we all did!" she yelled, clearly in a state of panic.
"Then what was it?" Len asked, turning on the young girl.
"I don't know!" she yelled, her eyes shone as tears welled, "Why don't you believe me!? No one's ever believed me!" she wailed.
Len blinked cynically, "Have you checked out the surrounding area at least?"
"Wha'dever, I don't want t' d'alt t' you!" she spat, turning from the commander with a hissing spit and a flail of her arms. She stomped off to the furthest point she could get from Len. On the edge of his vision he could sat Carlos standing by awkwardly, strumming his fingers as he stepped curiously over to her side. Len didn't need to try hard to know he didn't like him. He found he had that reputation on his people if he suggested anything about his career in Central America, or its failed revolution.
The group chatted nervously among itself as Len threw his heavy pack down and pulled out his gear, laying out his tablet to go over the map.
"So, any idea on what we're doing?" a voice asked softly. Len paused, looking up at Carl who hung nervously over him. For a man his size and of his stature Len was amused that such a man could be so docile in his voice.
"Get us some water at least, and keep moving." Len replied, "The faster we can get to the other side of the planet is the soonest we can even find out what happened, and where I need to be."
"How's that?" Carl asked, squatting down alongside Len.
"I've been asked to find out what happened to the other colonies." the commander said, "Before we set down Homsy personally requested that I scout for information on the colony of Landfall and any successor colonies spawned by the second mission." Len read a serious look of confusion on Carl's face. His brow's furrowed and a deep frown as he tried to get a grip on the information, and the exact scale of the scenario.
"We were not properly hailed," Len responded, he decided it might be best to ignore the unidentified craft also in orbit of the planet, and its own possibly terrestrial landing spots, "It's suspected something happened to Landfall, and if I at least can get to it their control and command post I can maybe see if they got any logs it still has, or if they even hailed the second ship. We could get a series of events from that, and a proper explanation on what went wrong."
"Like the Olympus blowing up?" Carl asked stupidly.
"I think that's a problem all it's own." Len replied.
"I see." nodded Carl.
"And what then do we have on the situation at hand?" Len asked, "Find anything?"
Carl smiled, "A lot of strange birds, bugs, and rodents, I think." he laughed, "At least I think they're like mice, but I dunno. They're weird. They slither, but they got fur."
"And that's all?" Len asked, "What about that Teshlena girl?"
"I think she just heard a twig snap." Carl laughed, "I tried to check it out, but found nothing."
Len nodded, "Good, thank you."
"And I thought if it would come to it," Carl began, "that if we needed something to defend ourselves with, then those big thorns there will help." he stated, nodding to the massive thorns that curled off from the trees that rung around the muddy, lichen covered clearing, "But I tried to break one off. They just don't budge."
"We may need to fix that then." Len mused, standing up.
The song of birds returned cautiously to the marshy forest as Carl lead Len a short way through the brush of the alien jungle. The light hushed chatter of the group of lost colonists carried on the warm breeze like a nervous classroom. Their chatter was not nearly a ward against the native wild-life as they returned to the trees and brush to gawk at the aliens.
Stepping cautiously, the two men walked around the broken brambles of the under-growth and the outreaching claws of the native trees. Their very presence threatening to gouge into the exposed skin of the two. "None of us really need to go far." Carl said in a cautious voice. On a branch above their heads a strange bird peered down at them. Its small beady eyes blinked as it watched them, trying to parse off if they were a threat or not. At the end of its wings nimble claws like bats kept it stable to the branch it rested on as it watched. Its bright plumage shone with the sheen of polished metal in the sunlight.
"But really, none of us have to go far," he continued, laughing nervously. Coming to a stop at the trunk of a large boiled tree.
The size of the tree was immense, as wide as an entire house with a branching canopy draped in green and off-green mosses, tipped with blue and yellow flowers. Covering nearly every available inch struck a series of massive thorns, many as long as Len was tall. The leaves that crowned it were a thick canopy of dish-pan sized green-gold leafing. And in those distant branches, a milling flock of those alien birds sat perched, watching the two humans below with those distant beady stares.
"Yeah, I saw a lot of them coming into here." Len said, "I imagine a lot of us do."
"And a lot of the group think they'd make good spears if we can detach them." Carl agreed, "I think at this point, if there's nothing else we could use these as self-defense. The problem is though, I can't pull any off for the life of me."
This situation greatly perplexed Len. Carl was a large man, and for his height he for sure had a lot of muscle and weight packed in him. It certainly showed well. And for he to not be able to pull something off was astounding. Carl must of seen the shock and curiosity on the commander's face as he added: "This thing is as hard as steel. It's not something I can pull off. And I don't want to try too hard, or I'll skewer myself."
His fears were founded well enough. With the tree coated so heavily in massive thorns - at least in the lower branches - it was possible that a slip would run one through your hand, or you'd throw yourself into one.
"But hey listen," Carl began with barely restrain caution, "You do got that little black box, don't you?"
"My side laser?" Len asked.
"Yeah, I was thinking that if you could, it might be possible to burn one off." Carl asked, "God only knows, I and the others have tried everything else we know. Some of us tried with what few knives we managed to someone get on the trip."
"Someone has knives?" Len asked.
"A couple." Carl waved, "I don't know where they got them, or how they got them on. Could have managed to steal them. I know there was some light looting when Red Sector was being evacuated. Probably found them in a utility case before getting out."
Len nodded, "Well it's something that would have been nice to know."
"I didn't know until now." Carl said, "If you get the chance you can talk to the Irish kids, they're the ones with them."
"Bright red haired lot?"
"Yes."
"I'll make a note then." Len groaned, throwing his rifle up onto his back. Reaching for his breast strap he un clipped the small laser box and approached the tree. With a flip of a hidden switch, the glass bead at the end of the box lit up. And as he raised it to the base of one of the thorns there was a flash of red light as he hit a button. Len began the slow process of trying to burn through one of the thorns.
The thorn hissed and cracked, then a pop parted from the tree. In his hand, the small defender let out a distorted whine as the light dimmed and weakened, loosing its vibrancy as the light died to a dimmer glow. It now had the strength of a pet toy. With a low sigh, Len slipped it back into his breast pouch and threw the disconnected thorn to the ground. In all, he had collected five before his tool's battery died.
"So that's that then?" Carl asked as he collected the large spears.
"Unfortunately," Len grumbled, "It'll have to recharge before I do anything more with it. But that'll be about a day before the batteries are finished."
"And how many more times can you do that after?" Carl asked.
"Enough to give everyone a stick." Len sighed.
The two returned to where the group waited. Silence fell over the collective like a careful blanket as Len came through. He looked over them with a hard stony grin. "Alright," he started, "If anyone thinks they want to try their hand at defending themselves we got something. But we only got five."
He let Carl passed with his arm full of thorns. They were indeed considerably long, and many thick and heavy. They had a texture like that of solid stone, though were organic in their shape. Ridges ran along the sides, which came to a cruel triangular tip as the spines narrowed. No doubt a natural disincentive against predation. Though what would possibly devour a whole of those trees with them so coated in thorns was beyond Len. But he was hardly a biologist in any respect.
"That's fine and all, gringo," Carlos jeered from the periphery, "but what are we still doing, eh? What are we doing in a giant swamp to begin with!"
"Finding our bearings." Len said, "And keeping ahead of anything out here."
"But should we really be moving?" a sickly thin woman asked, "I mean, it could make us harder to find. What if everyone else is looking for us. Shouldn't we have a choice on the matter?
"I mean, you're a commander. Aren't you? Surely you'd be missed. Wouldn't they be looking for you, if possible!?"
"Did you see the drop?" someone else shouted, "People died coming down here! They probably assumed if we didn't come down with them, then we'd all be dead!"
"W-well what makes you so certain. Couldn't they have a tracker!" the same woman shouted in a swift panic.
"It wouldn't work if he did." the injured Technician moaned. He was leaned up against the side of a tree. His suit still on and caked thick with mud. Even his bandages were beginning to look like they needed a change, "Any tracking devices would only work on a short range around him. Beyond that, they'd need orbital assistance to triangulate his position and impose it on a device until they reach the local area.
"And we lack any orbital assistance." he said.
"W-what do you mean?" the woman said, panicking.
"You haven't heard?" Len said, "No one told you?"
"I-I can't say I have..." the lady moaned.
"The Ararat is an empty silent hulk." Len said, turning to the rest of the group he rose his voice "And I'm saying this to everyone here, right now; to be sure we're all on the same page. We - I - don't know what happened to the Ararat or why it failed to properly hail us. It's systems - as I have been told by Captain Homsy - are barely functional.
"The Fujisan, which was sent as a follow-up, is no where to be detected in orbit. And with the Olympus gone and exploded across Invictus' northern poles there is no doubt we have no contact or conventional means to call for help or find our way back to everyone else.
"I hope you read the stories. Because we're not exactly to date down here."
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