The report which was by the table was a hefty thing, despite the weightless words it carried. Weightless in that they were electronic. Mendy was just about done skimming through all of them.
At least a most of the highlights were positive, aside the damages to the ship and the missing people.
The available members of the frontline had finally left the ship to go map out the vicinity and begin searching for any survivors. Naturally, they wouldn't have been allowed to do so without aid from any of the recon drones, and better lighting of course - the suns were about to set.
Not only did everyone on this side of the ship need a better idea of the area around them - tactical in the case of 100's men - but they also needed to have markers around the place. Markers that would show the nearest survivors, that would still be at large after the frontline concluded their mission, where their ship was.
It was a given that the survivors would very much still be at large because the frontline were only given two operational hours to do everything. The time was specific and intentionally short. Mendy and the rest of her fellow decision makers didn't want anyone staying out after it got dark. It was too risky, even more so on a planet they had just been landed on.
That aside, she really was beyond relieved with the fact that the planet itself was at least livable. The astronomers back then were only able to make calculated guesses. None of them were completely sure that it could even support human life. The wildest of all those guesses, which she was happiest about, was the fact that Proxima b wasn't anywhere near as tidally locked as the scientists of the gone age had predicted; 1:1, 3:2? None of that seemed to be the case. Thankfully.
However, the more she thought about it, the more curious she became. What made all those predictions about the planet wrong? They were completely sound from any scientific perspective she could draw from. So why were they still wrong then? The only thing which seemed to be in agreement was the sun - Proxima Centauri - which was indeed a red dwarf just as the calculations had predicted. But... why not the rest?
A cosmic blessing? Could it really be? She really wanted to hope. As a victim of the war herself, it felt very good to imagine that the cards really just fell in their favor after a great tragedy. But as a scientist, she could only ponder why. Why the air had been completely breathable. Why the temperatures nearly ideal.
And the radiation levels? Why were they, of all things, favorable? Especially for a planet circling a red giant? With an allegedly eccentric revolution? The initial scans from when the ship just landed, before anyone had dared to set a foot outside, showed that the amount of environmental radiation was just few digits higher than earth's were, but still very much docile.
She pushed the tablet to the side of her desk and leaned back in her chair, pondering the thought further, 'A blessing in disguise.' It was too good to be true. She took great comfort in the fact that the other scientists onboard the ship had the same exact puzzlements as her.
The good thing was that they'd all know for sure what was at hand the moment the fixes on the ship were concluded. And that was not going to be too long from the current moment.
ELSEWHERE
The trail was one wide, destructive track filled with really thick, haphazardly shaped ridges. Understandably, the ship was a very heavy thing. Kilotons easily. Dragging such a thing across such a hard, jagged surface at high speeds was always going to leave a mark. On the upside though, that mark made the journey a bit more straightforward. They only needed to follow the giant ship track. And it was indeed giant. The entire team walking together side by side in its center barely spanned half its width.
An hour into the walk and it was only now that the fifteen of them finally reached the point where the sloping descent flattened. It really was a long ledge that the ship had landed on. But the trail didn't end here, it continued on a bit further from where they were. Following it revealed where it actually halted - at the end of an open field.
There was greenery here, viney outgrowths in the hard ground, whose color shifted because of the dancing bands of light that were present in the sky, and a handful of weird looking grass. This was where the ship first made contact with the ground of course, evident by how a small area of the plants had been crushed inside a wide crater and some even dragged along outside of it. The aftermath here must have been what left the funny faint waft that now permeated the air all of a sudden.
"What are you thinking, captain? Venture a bit more into it or do what we must right here?"
100 stared at the darkening horizon, where the second sun was spreading its last, fading light over the planet before it too would finally set, and then looked back at the forest that grew away from them, and the massive, finger-like dent in the ground that their ship left behind in its structure. Strange a sight as the vines were, he was willing to bet it meant there was some kind of water nearby.
"Right here will do. I want markers spread across the edge of only the vines, 20-meters from each other in groups of threes.
Nine of the men went forward in groups of three to place the markers in place. They were cylindrical, bullet-like structures, with functioning drills on their undersides. Each was big enough to be carried on the back of one person.
One extra man followed each group to help connect the devices with a pipe-like synchronization cable. One that would harmonize their functioning.
94, 100 and 92 - the lady from earlier - stood together at one side, the highest ranked officers in the frontline, spectating their juniors as they made diligent work of their commands.
94 was the first one to be bored. It wasn't even thirty seconds into watching the men do their work when the interest decided to drain from him. He drowned out the sound of his companions talking and switched his gaze to the vines for a few moments. They were smooth, lanky things that looked like nothing he ever remembered seeing back on the mother world. Then again, an argument could be made that he wasn't as adventurous plant-wise so that limited his expertise on the matter quite significantly. Regardless, they were an odd sight to him, looking more like if spaghetti had been used as description for plants to a blind person, and told that they bend unnaturally at certain intervals. He redirected his attention to the aurorae in the heavens, watching them dance to whatever atmospheric tune had managed to give them the zeal to move that fervently. The bands were quite numerous, filling the entire sky from whichever point he looked. The smaller sun looked tiny in comparison to their vastness - a tennis ball in an ocean of waves. Its light was at its weakest now, barely casting any shadows on the ground. But it was enough to show him the oddest thing laying on the ground. Naturally, it drew in his curiosity.
The duo on his side was still deep in their hushed conversation when he interrupted them, "Is it me or is that thing too interesting to not check out?"
"What?"
He gestured at that thing and the both of them finally saw it, a black curving object whose surface seemed to have been worn out and dulled by time. It barely registered under the effects of the lights, which were even more pronounced now that the environmental hue was darkening to more subdued, purplier tones. Its size couldn't be judged from the distance at they were looking at it.
92 might have been on the smaller side body wise, the top of her head barely scraped 94 and 100's chins when they stood together, but the muscles she carried were never ever just for show, she couldn't have made senior subordinate officer otherwise. She easily hefted the rifle that had been slung across her side and pointed it toward the thing, then lit its flashlight. None of the workers seemed to be aware of what she was doing, focused as they were on the drilling, whose low noises filled the area.
"I don't know," she said as she moved the beam across the object's curved length, which made it look even darker, "I've never seen an alien snake before, but if I had to guess? I'd say it looks exactly like that."
92 was fortunate to have not seen the mars experience firsthand despite having been part of the earlier missions, but even so, she kept the wariness in her mind. Anything that suggested alien life was to be avoided.
At all costs.
In times like these, 100 preferred actions over words. So, while 92 was speaking her mind, he found himself a rough piece of rock that was big enough to fit his palm and did the honors. His aim was excellent. The stone smacked the thing just as she was about to finish her statement and, even though the contact was not any louder than the sound of the markers making their way into the ground, the movement it made still startled her.
Her entire body twitched, "Jesus, man!"
She was a well-spoken person generally, but in moments like these, when impulse took over, that well-spoken-ness disappeared and her native accent came out for all to hear - a weird, crazy combo of Asian and Mexican accentuations.
Her reaction drew a few odd looks from the men by the markers but those didn't linger, they knew better. She gave 100 an odder look. He looked down at her, shrugging. Then, in the most relaxed of manners, he told her, "Talking was taking too long, I thought I might as well. Besides, now we know it's not alive, or a snake."
She was about to tell him off when they heard the low smacking sound of another rock hitting the object and it drew their attention immediately. It was 94 this time. They found him rubbing his hands against each other, nearly smirking, "Now we really know it's not alive."
"Are you two insane?!" The words were spoken in whisper that couldn't be heard by the others.
He and the captain had a brief moment of eye contact, then he shrugged, "Pretty much, yeah," he admitted in the sincerest way.
All the anger that had built in her chest died the moment the words met her ears, and in its place came a wave of severe disappointment. Why she had even asked, she didn't know. She sighed. Of course they were insane.
94 got the light of his rifle working, and he used it to illuminate his way. It wasn't yet as dark, but the extra light was good for spotting any areas in the ground that didn't look as uneven at first glance and for aiding with general foot placement, especially since the impressions the ship left behind were quite defined.
92 kept her light trained on the artefact, finger at the ready. She was not prepared to stop the man from doing what his curiosity desired of him, but that didn't mean she was going to let the consequences of his stupidity end him either. 100 held his own rifle closer to him but made no attempt to stop or follow his supporting captain, he just stood there with 92, hoping 94's nosiness would lead to something at least more entertaining.
Closer to the objective was a smaller slope in the ground that seemed to be more of a wedge-y cleft than the latter. Its nature gave the impression that it was rendered there by the ship earlier. 94 went over it easily and finally reached the thing. Its size amazed him.
Slowly, he knelt to pick it, 92 brought her finger closer to the trigger, expecting something to move or jump. But nothing of that sort happened and she let out a small breath; one she wasn't even aware she had been holding in. 94 brought up the thing for her and the captain to see. It was as long as his entire arm and comparable to width of it.
ELSEWHERE
Miriam loved the view, but it also made her sad. She and Andy had found a clearing to rest as they tried to figure out a way to spend their night in this place. Her feet were tired and her soles throbbing, but the skyline had managed to cure that somehow. Until a few moments ago, when the memory had crossed her mind. That's when her internal mood had changed.
"Mom, I wanna go to the north pole," she had heard that day.
Her daughter had wanted to go there ever since she got her hands on the Kids' Science Week magazine. That was a year ago. The aurorae in the book obsessed her little seven-year-old mind so much. She sketched them in her drawing books nearly every week and made all sorts of weird stories about where she thought they came from and what made them only appear in the coldest places. She was too little to really understand what the underlying science was, so Miriam let her little imagination run wild, even pushing it along in places.
That was before the cancer came.
The war had devastated the planet and ruined the entire atmosphere. Being outside in most places that were normal before was now a serious health risk. Her little Mable's condition started because of all the chemicals that were now prevalent in the air and water, that was before the filtration programs were launched and the habitation camps were built.
Mable was the reason why Miriam had volunteered to come here in the first place. The reason she left her alone fighting the long battle. She wanted a better place for her to grow in. A safer place. One without the scars of hate etched in its flesh.
The sight saddened her because it reminded her so much of her daughter. Of how much happier it would have made the little girl. She missed that smile. The laughter. Her little angel deserved this and so much more instead of the war-torn planet and unfulfilled childhood she was forced to live through every day back home.
The thoughts were moving by in the dozens in Andy's mind. The bones, the tunnels, where to sleep, how to sleep, where the ship was. He was a thinker but right now, none of his thinking seemed to be leading him anywhere good. In fact, the only thing it was looking to be good for was giving him a very profound headache.
He shifted where he sat, a turned over rock, and rubbed the front of his forehead where the pain seemed to have been at its densest. There was nothing dry out here that they could have been able to use to build a fire, meaning that they had no choice but to brave the night head on. But maybe that was a good thing, knowing how fire was a double-edged sword that basically traded warmth for visibility. If there were any sort of creatures in this place - the tunnels came to mind - that preferred nocturnal activeness, making a fire would it right to them.
The good thing was that their bodysuits were good temperature retainers that were made to thrive in especially cold environments. That at least, made the idea of spending the night without a direct source of warmth more bearable. He turned again, this time towards Miriam. He was curious about whether or not she was comfortable with the idea of using the vines - the only soft materials they had around - as their beddings.
Her posture was what immediately jumped to his mind when his eyes fell on her. She was silently watching the sky where she sat, with a gaze that was both distant and focused. But her hands were wrapped around knees and there were tears rolling down her cheeks.
Andy stood without thinking twice about it, "Is... Is everything okay there, Ms. Miriam?"
She was so far gone into her thoughts that she didn't even hear him. He called out two more times, but the reaction was the same. It took him placing his hand on her shoulder to finally snap her out of her whatever had taken her so far away. She flinched, worry on her face until she realized who it was that had touched her.
She rubbed her hands against her cheeks, clearing the tears away, "Andy-is..." she sniffled, "Is everything okay?"
"I actually wanted to find out the same from you, are you okay?"
She very much wanted to nod but then a lump grew in her throat, preventing her. She turned away. Andy had no business knowing, yet she felt no conviction to keep him out. She didn't know why. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to, even one she didn't know that personally.
"It's... my daughter-it's just... I miss her."
"Forgive me for asking but is she... uh..." he felt a bit guilty for asking, it showed in the way his voice shook, "Still--"
Yet for all his fear, Miriam laughed, "Yes."
"--live?"
"Yes. She's very much still alive. She's just," Miriam swallowed. She didn't like the word at all, "sick."
Andy could immediately tell, "It's the war, isn't it? It's what made her sick?"
"Yes."
"How old is she?"
"She's eight."
"Imagination?"
That went by her completely, "Sorry?"
"Sorry, I meant like, how active is her imagination?"
At that, Miriam puffed her cheeks and blew through her mouth, a reaction that almost made Andy chuckle out loud, "Oh boy," she said, "It's the wildest I've ever seen. It used to get on my mind sometimes. You know, she would like draw on whatever she could get her hands on. Nothing was safe around her. And I mean absolutely nothing, not the walls, not the fridge... maybe the tv because that's where she watched her favorite shows from but certainly not the books. I spent quite a lot on those every week actually."
The night echoed with the sound of their shared laughter at the sentiment. With such silence around them, it felt like they were the only ones on the entire planet.
"Think she'd make a good librarian?"
"Yeah but, certainly not a quiet one. At least not when she's drawing. Maybe when she's reading or watching something. That's when she really focuses."
"She sounds like an angel."
"A handful, imaginative angel."
"An angel, nonetheless, right?"
A chortle escaped Miriam's lips but she agreed, "An angel, nonetheless."
"What's her name?"
"Mable."
"Was it intentional or you just named her that cause you liked it?"
"It was the first name that popped up in my head the very first time I held her in my arms. I don't even know what the heck it means."
Andy couldn't believe it, "For real?"
"Yeah. Do you?"
A prideful smile lit up his face. For the first time in years, his interest in names was finally being put to good use, "Not to brag, but yes. Mable means lovable or worthy of love."
A small soft smile grew on Miriam's face. How appropriate. The name fit her little bundle of joy perfectly. A few droplets flashed across her bottom eyelashes, but they were happy tears, warm tears, "That makes me love her even more."
"I imagine it's only natural."
Andy didn't look all that older than Miriam. Probably an age difference of about three or four years if she had to guess, going by how his facial features looked, which likely pushed him either into his late twenties or early thirties. That made her even more curious, "Do you by any chance have kids of your own?"
The light that was in his eyes dimmed a bit and he had to look away, "I uh..." his voice grew a bit heavier and distant. He didn't even notice it, but he begun rubbing one of his thumbs across the opposite palm, "I'd rather not talk about it."
Miriam's cheerfulness reduced by a few digits, but she understood, "It's okay. I must ask though, how do you think we're to spend our night?"
Andy didn't answer her, he held up his hand instead, quieting her before tilting his head in focus of something that she wasn't aware of. The gesture alarmed her, but she chose not to voice her concerns to him.
He rose to his feet suddenly and turned away from her, "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"It sounds like someone is...grinding something."