Chapter 7: Mudding

The hauler left superlight, spraying a technicolor cloud of gas and dust as it punched a hole back into reality. Its skeletal bulk drifted idly, the naked frames of its hull housing mostly empty cargo containers, the brilliant residue slowly dissipating as the human occupants lurched back to consciousness. Reid retched into a paper bag, still anchored to her crash couch by her safety harness as the nausea and disorientation of the jump wracked her body. Sousa was seated beside her in the dingy bay, and he spat a plastic bit out of his mouth, its purpose to prevent him from biting off his tongue as the exotic energies of superlight travel fried his nervous system.

“Fuck jumps,” he groaned as he rested his head in his hands, no doubt plagued by a post-jump headache. The rest of the team was similarly incapacitated, all besides Dubois who seemed perfectly calm.

“It gets easier every time,” he explained, unfastening his harness and rising from his seat to stretch his arms over his head. “That should have been the final jump, I’ll go ask the pilot if we’ve arrived yet.”

The rest of the team stayed in their seats, nursing headaches or muscle cramps, plagued by dizziness and nausea. Sleethe, the Krell guide that Webber had recruited to join them on the mission was tied down to a cargo pallet, looking no better off than the humans as he grumbled disapprovingly. Webber unclipped her safety harness and staggered to her feet, moving over to untie his scaly limbs, swaying as if she were nursing a monumental hangover. The jumps effected everyone a little differently, the nuclear generators housed within the vessel would build up energy until they stored enough to power the jump drive, which would then create a miniature black hole in order to rip a tear in the fabric of space and time, sucking in the ship and anything in its vicinity. The vessel would travel light years in a fraction of a second, ejected further along its route as the energy was expended and non-reality tired of its intrusion. They would then have to coast along in realspace until their reactors could generate enough energy for another hop, like some galactic game of leapfrog.

Moralez had managed to book them passage on the ‘March Hare’, a civilian cargo freighter with the smallest class of drive available. That said the vessel was still enormous, though the majority of its tonnage was taken up by cargo and the crew cabins were cramped. Despite the lack of living space, Webber had elected to share a cabin with her Krell friend, perhaps she was trying to see what new information she could glean from him.

“You guys will want to see this,” Dubois called from the bridge, more of a glorified cockpit a short walk towards the bow. Reid tried to compose herself, rising unsteadily to her feet and stumbling towards the sound of his voice, some exercise would help get her blood flowing again.

The team joined Dubois and the pilot on the bridge, besides Sleethe who was too large to fit in the confined space and so poked his head through the door. They looked out of the main window at the planet before them, hanging in space like some kind of giant bauble. It was greener than Earth, it seemed to be all one landmass dotted with reflective rivers and lakes, the atmosphere hazy and obscured by cloud layers. Reid didn’t like it, it looked somehow ... unhealthy, sickly rather than verdant. Maybe it was something about the glow of the twin red suns in the distance, or the toxic green shade of the planet-spanning forests, but it made her uneasy.

“There it is,” Dubois breathed, more excited than anyone else seemed to be. “Krell.”

There was a jolt as the pilot fired the conventional thrusters, slowly gaining velocity as he coasted towards their destination. He didn’t look much like a pilot, Reid was used to UNN personnel wearing flight helmets, or immaculately groomed civilian cruise liner captains. This man was unkempt and scruffy with a stained,, brown leather jacket that looked as if it had never seen the inside of a laundromat. His breast was covered in patches and badges, and he was wearing a baseball cap with some unidentifiable logo on it, some kind of sports team perhaps. He looked to be in his mid forties, his stubbly beard had strands of grey in it, Moralez really had grabbed the first ship he could get his robotic hands on.

“ETA twenty minutes,” the pilot grumbled, his voice undeniably that of a heavy smoker. “Take your gear to the shuttle in the bay, once I clear your landing site with ground control you can head down, I have orders to orbit until you’re done and I can ship you back.”

“Do the Krell even have ground control?” Sousa asked sarcastically.

“Don’t reckon so, but this planet is under Broker protection, the Krell must have done somethin’ awful important for those misers to owe them that kind of favor.”

“Why do you say that?” Sousa asked, his curiosity peaked. “Have you dealt with the Brokers before? You ever seen one up close?”

“I’ve dealt with ‘em alright, they’re as shrewd as they come. Never seen one in person though, they always trade using drones and proxies, but they’ll be chatting in your ear trying to get discounts out of you up until the moment the cargo is in their damned bay.”

Most of the team left to collect their gear, but Sousa stayed for a few more minutes, watching the green planet grow in the window. Eventually he began to make out structures in orbit, what looked like enormous steel girders at this distance, some kind of planetary defense weapons of Broker design maybe? The pilot thumbed a button on his console and directed a microphone on his headset towards his mouth.

“Krell flight control this is March Hare en route from Fort Hamilton, requesting orbital and landing permissions, over.”

He waited a moment before the reply came through, a synthetic and distorted voice, as if someone was speaking through translation software or some kind of cumbersome mask.

“We have you on our scanners, March Hare, your visit was scheduled ahead of your arrival. Please proceed to the following coordinates and establish a low orbit, your landing party is cleared to set down anywhere they choose.”

“Copy that control, may the wealthy owe you favors.”

“And to you, trader, flight control out.”

The connection was closed, and Sousa looked back to the pilot.

“What did that mean, ‘may the wealthy owe you favors’, how did he know you were a trader?”

“It’s a Broker greeting, like ‘have a nice day’ or ‘God be with you’, lets them know I’ve dealt with their kind before. They’re the type to remember that kind of thing. We’re comin’ up on the insertion point, so you’d best get down to the shuttle with the others.”

Sousa did as he was asked, and stopped off at his cabin briefly to collect his rucksack, then made his way to the aft of the vessel where the hangar bay was located. He left the crew quarters, which was barely more than a handful of cabins and rooms connected by a short hallway, and proceeded through engineering. Here naked pipes and machinery protruded from the walls, the smell of oil and ozone stinging his nose as he ducked through the narrow passages, eventually emerging into a small hangar that contained one landing craft. It was similar to a UNN shuttle, a bucket-shaped craft with small swept wings for atmospheric flight, though it seemed a couple of decades behind the current models that he was used to seeing. The bay was open to space, with a force field generator erecting a transparent barrier to prevent the atmosphere from venting, which would allow the passage of solid objects such as the shuttle or a careless crew member. Seeing that dark void held at bay by an energy field a few microns thick always made Sousa uneasy.

He ascended the landing ramp and took a seat in one of the crash couches that lined the walls, the other members of the science team buckling into their safety harnesses. Their resident Krell could not fit, and so anchored himself to handholds in the roof. Reentry could be bumpy, but he didn’t think that anyone would complain, it was a picnic compared to superlight jumps. Dubois seemed to be missing though.

“Where’s our intrepid explorer?”

“He’s flying,” Reid replied, concern creeping into her tone. Sousa fastened his harness a little tighter than usual, and stowed his rucksack beneath his seat. There was a hiss as an intercom activated, and Dubois’ voice rang out in the troop bay.

“This is your captain speaking, thank you for flying with Dubois Airlines, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times and refrain from feeding the Krell.”

“We’re going to die,” Webber whispered, only half joking. “I preferred it when he was sulking.” There was a mechanical whir as the landing ramp began to close, sealing with a hiss as the inside of the vessel pressurized. Sousa felt a rumbling beneath his feet as the main engines powered up, and they waited with baited breath for the go-ahead from the pilot. There was no sensation of motion inside the AG field of the vessel, but as Sousa leaned forward to peer through the door into the cockpit and out at the blackness of space, he saw the green planet rotate into view as the ship rolled over on its side.

Dubois must have gotten permission to undock, as Sousa felt the landing gear retract into the belly of the little craft, then there was a sudden rush of inertia as it used its thrusters to maneuver out of the hangar and begin its controlled fall towards the surface. They coasted for a while, dropping towards their destination at orbital speeds with no sensation of motion besides the tremor of the engines that radiated up through the deck beneath their feet.

The team gripped the handrests of their chairs as the shuttle hit the atmosphere and began to jostle them, Sleethe rocking back and forth as he gripped the handholds in the roof of the craft, their harnesses keeping them secured as the little shuttle was shaken and buffeted by turbulence. The fiery orange glow of flames licking at the nose of the craft, pouring through the cockpit window to cast them in an eerie glow.

They broke through into clearer skies, and the shuttle’s airbrakes began to slow their descent, gliding on its stubby wings as it circled to shed velocity. There were no windows in the troop bay, but the flames that had blasted the cockpit window had been replaced with a green glow.

Finally the landing gear extended with a mechanical clunk, and they felt the vessel bounce as it landed on solid ground, relief washing over them as the landing ramp began to lower. Their relief was short-lived however, as a wash of damp, clammy air that stank of rotting vegetation flooded the bay. There was a chorus of exclamations and complaints as the team unfastened their safety harnesses and rose to collect their gear, Dubois opening the cockpit door and wrinkling his nose at the smell.

“Pitié, it’s like a compost heap, I can taste it in the back of my throat.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Webber complained as she hoisted her rucksack. “The sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go home.”

“Wait, wait!” Dubois rushed forward and placed a hand on her shoulder pulling her back from the ramp.

“What’s wrong, is it dangerous?”

He proudly marched down to the end of the ramp and planted his boots in the wet mud, the footprints filling with water as he sank a few centimeters into the soft earth.

“Lucas Dubois, first human to set foot on Krell,” he exclaimed, eliciting a laugh from Sousa and an exasperated sigh from Webber.

“If you’re quite finished Mister Dubois, I’d like to be on my way,” Reid said. “We are pressed for time and we should make camp as soon as possible so that we can get our equipment set up.”

“Yes, yes, now you must allow me to perform ‘my’ job Doctor Reid. If you would prefer to wait here while I scout, I will return to collect you when I have found a suitable location for our camp.” As they watched he crouched to remove his pack, apparently unconcerned by the mud that surrounded him, and he retrieved a wide-brimmed leather hat and some kind of handheld device. It looked like a weapon.

“Is that a gun, Mister Dubois?” Reid asked, straightening her spectacles. “The Krell are quite friendly, why would you feel the need to bring something like that along?”

“Indeed, we do not know what kind of fauna we might encounter here, you must never enter an environment that could potentially contain hostile animals without the means of self-defense. Unless of course you enjoy being eaten.” He hefted the weapon, a handgun with a long barrel and a massive scope mounted on its rail, the body of the gun had a polished wood finish and it looked like some kind of antique oddity more than a hunting weapon. It seemed heavy and unwieldy, but Dubois’ expression was that of someone greeting an old friend.

Sleethe seemed to sniff the stale air, finding it to his liking and lumbering down the ramp to sink into the mud, with how heavy he was it was a miracle he didn’t just vanish into the ground. His numerous, splayed toes seemed to distribute his weight like a camel walking on sand, and he looked back at Webber expectantly.

“Well, I’m coming with you for one,” Sousa announced, walking with exaggerated strides as he left the ramp and tried to avoid sinking in the sticky mud. The gravity was Earth-like, or at least close enough that the difference was not immediately noticeable.

“Me too,” Clayton said, and made his way over to join them. “Who knows, we might discover some new species while we’re here and I’m not going to let Sousa write me out of the credits.”

“Well, I don’t want to be left on my own.” Webber this time, pouting, her blonde locks already beginning to stick to her face due to the intense humidity. Reid sighed and joined them, and the group set off in the direction of the nearest forest. The shuttle had set down in a clearing, surrounded by dense trees on all sides. She felt like they had landed in the bogs of Florida, or some kind of mangrove swamp at low tide, the trees were spindly and twisted with roots like grasping hands as they dug into the wet soil for purchase. There was vegetation everywhere, what looked like ferns and vines, and the stench of rotting plant matter permeated the damp air. It felt very much like the Krell barracks, hot and humid, but the sickly green of the atmosphere and the smell made it somehow less tolerable. Maybe it was the thought that she couldn’t just exit into the Pinwheel’s torus whenever it became too much for her.

Dubois had his gun holstered on his hip now, and Reid wondered why he had stashed it in his rucksack rather than just wearing it openly, had he correctly surmised that she would object? It made her uncomfortable, although she worked on a military space station by necessity, she was not comfortable around guns and despite his insistence to the contrary she did not think bringing the weapon was necessary. This was beginning to feel more like Dubois’ private safari than a science expedition with her at its head.

They had been properly outfitted at least, gone were their casual clothes and lab coats, replaced with blue UNN jumpsuits and unflattering boots that could withstand the mud. Only Dubois had refused the attire, sporting his own hunting outfit that made him look like an off-brand Indiana Jones.

They passed under the shadow of the forest canopy, shafts of green light piercing the leaves to give the terrain a spotty, patchwork feel. The going was harder here, the skeletal roots that held the trees aloft blocked their way, and they had to climb over them, the mud slippery and deep beneath their feet. Where was Dubois even taking them? He seemed confident, but they didn’t know anything about this planet yet.

“Do you have some destination in mind, Dubois?” Sousa asked, beating Reid to the punch as he clambered over a large root from one of the pale trees.

“When we were circling I thought I saw something in this direction, might be a settlement or some kind of village, if we can contact the local Krell population then we will ‘ave a good place to set up camp and start our investigations.”

“You don’t need a compass or a GPS?” Sousa asked.

“I assure you Doctor Sousa, that my sense of direction is quite good. We will not get lost.”

“If you say so,” he grumbled, wiping his brow. The heat was so intense, it felt as if they were inside some giant vivarium, the moisture in the air was such that their sweat couldn’t even evaporate in order to cool them down. Reid’s boots were already filling with sweat, and her hair was a damp mess, she just had to accept the situation for the time being and promise herself that the longest bath of her life would be her reward. Scented candles, soap bubbles, an audiobook playing on her tablet computer...

She was jolted back to reality by movement in the mud in front of her, or was it shallow water? It was impossible to tell, the ground was just a mass of brown sludge. Something long and sinuous passed through the group, its surface shiny and slimy as it disappeared below the surface again.

“Uh ... Dubois? What was that?”

He had heard the splash of water as the thing had vanished, and was now aiming his hand cannon at the ground, sinking almost up to his ankles in the mud. They heard Webber yelp, and they spun around to see her standing as still as a statue as what looked like a slippery, grey eel coiled around her ankle and probed her boot. It was about as thick as a human wrist, not enormous but large enough to be alarming, its long, serpentine body trailing off into the mud so that they couldn’t gauge how long it might be.

“Oh my God oh my God, get it off,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Dubois approached cautiously and gestured for her to calm down as the apparently eyeless creature tested the rubber of her boot with its grasping mouthparts, it didn’t seem to be aggressive. He glanced at Sleethe, who seemed wholly unconcerned, which indicated that the creature was likely harmless. Poor Lena stood with her arms out, frozen in place with her face screwed up in disgust as it rubbed mud and mucous on her leg.

“Just let him get a look at you,” Dubois breathed, his eyes fixed on the animal as it wound its serpentine body around her foot. “He doesn’t know what you are either.”

After a few moments the snake-like creature seemed satisfied, diving back under the mud with a splash and leaving a trembling Webber to glare at Dubois as if the whole situation were his fault.

“Let’s push on,” he said, turning about and heading off deeper into the forest. Webber sidled up closer to Sleethe as she followed behind, her eyes locked on the mud that seemed to make up the entire surface of the planet.

They marched for maybe an hour before Reid began to grow concerned that Dubois might not know what he was doing, but just as she was about to speak up, they came to the clearing that he had described. They emerged from the thick undergrowth into an open space, the shore of a stagnant lake nearby, and built beside it was a collection of wooden structures. It looked like treehouses or shacks built on top of one another, suspended in the thick mud on stilts made from the twisted trunks of the pale trees that made up the forests. Some had obviously been cut to size, yet others were growing from the mud and had been cultivated in order to reinforce the precarious structures. There were dozens of these buildings stacked together, connected by rickety walkways and rope bridges made from knotted vines. The roofs were slanted, made from what looked like fronds and leaves, clearly designed to ward off what must be frequent and heavy rainfall. It looked like a city of elves from a fantastical storybook, if the elves lived in Louisiana.