Paphos, p.23
Paphos, page 23
“This isn’t working,” Austin bemoaned, rubbing his face in frustration. There had to be something they could do, but they were running out of time. If the creature fled in their vessel, they would be trapped without another way off the planet. They’d probably get discovered eventually, or get a distress beacon out eventually, but still, a year at least. Austin pictured spending that time, stranded and low on food… they’d be cooking plants, hoping for the best at some point. But alive, at least. But then he also imagined a hostile alien species -possessing an Earth-based vessel, equipped with star charts and satellite data, an enemy with exact coordinates to Earth. There could be a much deeper threat here than his own survival; this could doom Earth. And that simply could not happen.
While Dmitry remained scheming over a pile of useless com equipment, Austin went and grabbed a flare gun from the storage closet. Next, he went to the electrical closet and removed an emergency battery unit. Tweaking things to explode had become his new pastime.
“What are you doing?”
Austin ignored him.
“Austin, you can’t possibly be that stupid,” Dmitry said.
“Sure, I can,” he replied while hastily removing protective caps from the battery cell. “Our ship has a lot of delicate information, a lot of coordinates, especially those going back to Earth, not to mention space ports along the way, trade routes, satellite coordinates,” he looked Dmitry in the eye as he spoke. “We can’t let a hostile enemy gain that information.”
“I’m going to use this transmitter to override the ship. Do you hear me?” Dmitry said, wielding his chosen device. But Austin wasn’t listening; he grabbed his makeshift explosive and left. Dmitry’s face warned him not to leave.
Standing outside, he prepped the flare gun with his modest explosive. The battery he’d chosen could power the shuttle thrusters out of orbit, so it had a lot of juice. He heard the doors of the huts open behind him, expecting Dmitry. “This has to be done,” Austin said, but when Dmitry didn’t reply, he casually looked over. Had he waited a moment longer, his skull would have been split open.
A wrench swung over his head as Austin ducked, quick reflexes saving him in that moment. Dmitry’s eyes demanded blood, and he came at him fast, tackling him to the ground. He could only do so much in this slick mud, diminishing his ability to wrestle. It was all he could do to block the wrench from crushing his skull. This wasn’t a fight; this was combat. He needed to survive.
“What are you doing?” he yelled and wrapped his arms around Dmitry to keep him from swinging that wrench, slick with mud and trails of red from somewhere. If not for an engine blast, he’d have almost forgotten all about the impending liftoff. “We have bigger problems!”
Dmitry landed the wrench against his skull with a glancing crack. He didn’t actually feel it, but his vision blurred, so he knew he had taken a hit. Dmitry arched back for another strike, but Austin slipped and bucked to his hands and knees. He pushed himself free and scrambled to his feet.
The ship now hovered inches off the ground, stabilizers reaching their checkpoints. Austin reached over for the flare gun submerged in mud and tried to aim, but was tackled again. The flare gun went flying out of his hands as he went face-first into the mud. Dmitry was apparently beyond reason; if he couldn’t end this soon, they were all doomed.
Dmitry smothered his head into the mud with one hand and landed punches with the other. His wrestling was fading as the blows were adding up, but he managed to roll and get to his back. The mud was in his nose and mouth, and it was all he could do to breathe as another punch rocked the back of his head. He felt himself barely holding to consciousness. Dmitry, sensing a wounded foe, reared again to finish him off. Austin sprang, bucking his legs and shoving him off with surprising dexterity.
The madman was on his feet but stopped. Austin took longer getting upright, having exhausted what little strength he had and spitting blood. He raised his hands slowly to fight as the jet blasts pushed the ship higher off the ground.
“Great timing, boss, you just couldn’t have done this later, could you?” Austin said.
“Dublin is a terrible pilot, I still have time,” he said and retrieved the transmitter from his cargo pocket. He plugged it into a tablet and began uttering voice commands. Company codes, passwords, and the things the Orbiter would use to dock wirelessly with a ship.
Austin barely held himself up with his hands on his knees as blood trickled from his forehead, nose, and mouth. The flare gun was nowhere, or it was in half a foot of mud. He dug through the mud where he’d last seen it as the shuttle raised several meters into the air. Lord, he was exhausted. Had Dmitry at least come back to his senses? Did one of them have to die for this to end? He couldn’t lose; he had more to worry about than just himself.
Dmitry grew frantic; the further the shuttle went, the harder it would be to connect with it. He knew the override codes and continued the process, praying Dublin’s weak piloting kept him in range long enough to override and bring it back.
Austin finally saw Carolina. She was looking up at the ship, the flare gun in her right hand at her side. She stood adjacent to Dmitry and Austin and removed the safety cap and cocked it back, aiming high. She squeezed the trigger and watched the battery payload shoot up in a blinding hot arc, landing on the wing. The ship continued to rise and pull away as sharp flashes of light burst from the wing. Higher up the ship went, as a visible blaze flickered, growing in size, molten and hot. A deafening pop rocked the ship as the modified battery ruptured.
Dmitry shook with anger.
The ship struggled to ascend briefly and then began its rocky course to the ground, like a boat in choppy waters. A trail of smoke stained its course as the wing continued to blaze, down and down until disappearing from view behind the trees. Then a sickening boom.
“You little bitch…” Dmitry snarled. He crushed the radio in his hand, staring at the plume of smoke about two kilometers away.
“Was Dublin…?” Athen cried, limping her way towards them.
“That was our only way home,” Dmitry snarled, dropping the crumpled pieces at his feet. He picked up a fist-sized rock and turned to Carolina. “You wanted to test me, is that it? You wanted to see what would happen if you all disobeyed me, right?”
“She’s just a kid,” Athen protested.
“Shut up, or you’re next.”
Carolina backed away towards her father, who had taken a knee to keep from falling. He’d exhausted too much effort and was low on oxygen.
Athen staggered in front of Dmitry, using herself as a shield. “Stop it!” she begged.
Dmitry swung and hit her in the head, knocking her unconscious.
“Come on,” Austin said, summoning his will. He wasn’t going to win a fight right now, he’d taken too much of a beating already, and he could barely stand. He started towards the tree line, holding Carolina by the hand. It would buy him time, and it would drag him away from Athen.
“Oh yes! Run from me! I can chase you all day! I’ve got nothing else to do!” Dmitry screamed, his voice going hoarse. He stalked them towards the woods. At the base of the trail, Austin stopped to catch his breath as Dmitry neared. He tried to walk up the trail, but it was so slick he couldn’t get even a step in. He clenched his fists in agony. He’d never outrun Dmitry; he couldn’t even get up this trail with it being so muddy and slick. With his daughter at risk, if he couldn’t get into those trees, then he’d have to fight here, and he’d have to win.
“Get up there, kiddo.”
A smile crossed Dmitry’s face. “So many interruptions before, but I don’t think anything is going to save you now.”
Austin pulled himself into the tree line, his foot slipping but making strides through sheer force of will. He gave whatever speed he could and barreled into the trees. “I’m right behind you, go!” he ordered his daughter. She went ahead of him, moving much faster than he. With optimism, maybe he could get her far away, too, for her own safety.
“Keep going! I’m right behind you!”
CHAPTER 38
Blood drew two lines down the side of Austin’s face and neck. He wasn’t sure which hit had caused it, but thankfully, it trickled around his eyes instead of into them. Being blind would give an advantage to Dmitry, who still held his rock. Not that he needed it; the rock or the advantage. Austin was so spent he couldn’t fight, let alone stand upright. Between not being able to breathe with his face in the mud and the exhaustion of wrestling, he was worn out completely.
Yet he somehow ran, hollering ahead to his daughter that he was right behind her. Dmitry was gaining on him effortlessly.
“Not much in you, I see,” Dmitry taunted, cresting the slick hill with ease compared to him.
He ignored the taunts and kept on, getting whatever distance he could. If he stopped, she’d stop, and he wanted her safe.
“Dad!” she cried, fifty meters ahead, and realized how far back he was.
“Get to the wall! I have a plan. Go!” he ordered. She waited, doubtful. “I swear, I will meet you there.”
He’d kept so many promises already that she must have wished it so, because she believed him. She disappeared out of view, just as Dmitry sauntered closer.
“Well, that leaves me in a pickle, doesn’t it? I mean, do I chase you? Or do I chase her? Truth is,” he said, catching up to Austin, who was found leaning on a tree for air. “The truth is, you’re a lot easier to catch.” He smiled a sickening grin that didn’t touch his eyes. At some point, he’d abandoned the rock, which was a relief of sorts.
Austin’s headache was of the worst kind, but he didn’t show the pain on his face. He wiped blood from his nose, followed by acute throbbing, meaning it was probably broken, too. He couldn’t take much more punishment. He already needed a doctor, and not the one standing before him. His body could only endure so much. Dmitry had abandoned all the safeguards of a healthy society; the man was homicidal. And he was stronger, faster, and more vicious than Austin could manage in this state. No way out of it, though. Once the fight started, he’d be losing quickly unless he landed a swift knockout blow, something that he could muster and drop Dmitry with.
Even the mud was against him. The storm had dumped so much water that there were parts of the trail that had slid away, with baby waterfalls trickling into newly formed ponds down below.
“Not still mad about the radio, are you?” Austin asked half-heartedly.
“I never liked this team much anyway.”
“So you’re just going to kill us all? Because we don’t agree with you?”
“There’s only one punishment for mutiny.”
“It’s not mutiny! We’re scientists, not military!”
Dmitry stretched his neck to his left shoulder and then to his right shoulder. “I’m looking forward to the silence, if I can be honest. Your opinion has always grated on me.” Dmitry brandished a pairing knife, small but deadly sharp.
Great. Austin readied himself for whatever may come. He remained slouched and exhausted, a ruse to lure his enemy in closer. It wasn’t much of a ruse; he was all those things. When Dmitry was in range, he moved, hurling mud up into Dmitry’s eyes to blind him. Then, in the moment of distraction he’d created for this, he launched his right fist with a haymaker punch, which landed on the jaw. But the mud made him slip, and it didn’t hit with all the force it should have. It didn’t hit with all the force needed to put him to sleep. Dmitry staggered back briefly and then attacked. Austin dodged away as best he could as the knife started slashing at him. He was cut on the cheek, then he was cut on the palms, trying to defend. Defensive wounds, something in his logical brain noted. This wouldn’t last long.
Dmitry grinned and inverted his grip on the knife. Austin dove for a tackle as Dmitry swung at a downward angle, skewering his shoulder instead of his head. The knife was for small kitchen work, small but razor sharp. He didn’t even feel it, but his body did. He fell to a knee. If he didn’t do something quickly, his promise would be forever broken. Dmitry looked like he was enjoying himself as he wiped the mud from his eyes.
“You’ll need more than that,” Dmitry said.
Austin rose and took a step back, raising his hands, though a setting gloom was telling him there was no way out of this. He’d try the knockout punch again, because if Dmitry wrestled him down, he’d be unable to do anything about it. Or at least he was going to when the ground slipped out from under him and he suddenly fell.
The roaring of earth and mud followed him down the slope, as water-logged dirt gave way to an avalanche. The fight had carried him to a ledge, and his added weight forced the landslide. The earth fell, dragging him down like a log in a river, which he desperately tried to fight. Austin slid down, steep and fast; he was completely unable to control the fall. He flattened out, still sliding, hands digging into the mud to try to stop himself. He reached for anything: bushes, branches, but it wasn’t until he splashed into water that he stopped, and a blanket of mud slid on top of him. The storm had left massive pools, and now he was struggling neck-deep in the mud. He looked up to see Dmitry at the top, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He was about to drown.
He knew he was in trouble when his feet didn’t touch the ground, and there was no staying afloat in mud like this. Like quicksand, it slowly submerged him, and it wasn’t stopping. “Help!” Austin yelled in panic, struggling to keep his head above, yet every movement sank him deeper into the mud. His hand groped for a strand of roots, but pulling on them simply ripped them out of the earth. “Help!” he yelled, desperation taking over, sinking deeper. He searched for something that might save him, all the while sinking dispassionately. He flailed his arms for what it was worth, despite the stab wounds in his shoulder. The taste of earth and chai invaded his mouth. His muscles ached from the futility. The heavy, wet soil invaded his clothes, chilling his torso, armpits, neck, and now the top of his head. He kicked his feet, getting his mouth above the mud-line for one final breath. A warbled mush filled his ears and then covered his face.
He could no longer kick; his strength had drained away. His arms were next; the muscles had fought their hardest and had nothing left to give. A fleeting hope; he probed the floor with his toes, hoping to use solid ground and kick himself back up. But his toes found only darkness. Little by little, his body quit moving, and sorrow flooded him. It was dark, and he was being swallowed into this cursed planet. He would rot in the mud, never to see his daughter again. She used to be so small that he could hold her in one arm like a football. His life wasn’t what he wanted it to be. He shouldn’t be dying here. In this calm, he listened to his beating heart, waiting for it to stop. Being so calm, he felt something along his inner wrist, and he pulled at it, studied it, realizing it was a tree root. In the black tomb of oblivion, he wrapped his hand firmly with the slippery root and gently tugged. He felt his body edge slightly forward. An ember of hope blazed in him.
Don’t snap it! Don’t yank it! Just tug, gently, gently, and please don’t break!
He pulled on the root harder than he should, but only because he didn’t have long and his lungs were screaming. If the roots failed, then it was over, but it was going to be over anyway. He at least had to try. He felt the root as it twisted and strained, the pull bringing him slowly through the mud, the experience in complete blackness. His lungs were dying as he took in the new slack and pulled himself forward again. He felt the water line at his head, and he strained up for a breath. He had to be calm; he could just as easily inhale mud and choke to death.
He gasped in a breath of sweet air and, in his excitement, tugged on the root a little too hard. The root went slack, and he went back under.
He kept his eyes closed and pulled on the root, taking it in, begging it to become taught again. Calm, calm, he focused, knowing that panic would only kill him quicker. Austin kept pulling, even as his hope faded. So when the root was finally taught again, he vowed to tug slowly and cautiously, as much as his desperate soul would allow him to. He felt the mud giving way gently as he inched forward; the edge of the pond had to be getting closer. Two more tugs and his foot brushed the ground. He stood on it and climbed forward until he crested the mud-line once more. This time, he took a huge breath. He could do it again. The earth was too soft here, so he sank into place, but he had bought a little time. He pulled himself onward, closer to solid ground. He edged nearer until both feet were on something solid and the bank reluctantly shared itself. There was madness in his determination, and he didn’t quit until he was half in and half out of the pond. His face and chest rested on solid ground, wheezing, choking, but breathing.
“Thank you… thank you…” He whispered, lips kissing dirt.
There were many moments following where he did not move. He may have even passed out, briefly. He certainly couldn’t have climbed out of there, not until his blood composed critical nutrients and oxygen. He’d give a million dollars to rinse his mouth with a water bottle right now. Eventually, he rolled to his back, shimmying a few centimeters, and then waited again. For ten minutes it went that way, until all of him rested on the bank, shivering, face up, staring at the trees and sky. “Thank you…” He cried to whatever nameless spirit was listening. “Thank you…”
The shivering ceased, the mud had been draining his body temperature, but the weather was actually getting nice and warm. When he had the ability to move, Austin carefully stood to his feet. He didn’t have much, but he could stand. He angled his head up at the hills where he had come from.
He didn’t see Dmitry, which was good news for him. He must have assumed he died in the mud. Either way, now it was all about Carolina. She would be on the run, and Dmitry was likely hunting her. She blew up their shuttle, and Dmitry would not forgive something like that.
