Multiple Garradian scientific teams had studied the data transmitted from Dr. Walker’s encounter with the Vorthari. They hoped to discover their origins and why they’d migrated to Arroxan Prime. They were all certain they weren’t natural to the planet. She wasn’t sure why yet.
There was one theory currently being discussed that the Vorthari were the source of the extreme volcanic activity the planet experienced. Did that mean the Vorthari predated the human occupants?
Anything was possible which was just another way of saying, “expect the unexpected.”
“We have contact with Dr. Walker and Harold,” Riina continued. So far everything he’d supplied indicated a people who weren’t that interested in the stars. Even their alien conspiracy theories seemed to be focused underground.
And they weren’t wrong about that.
There was a short pause, then the captain cleared his throat.
“You’ll each find a path customized to your ID that will lead you to your quarters. We’ll be lifting off shortly. Locate your secure seating for both lift-off and when we activate the star drive or you’ll have some unpleasant moments.”
They had to be well clear of the outpost before they could activate the star drive, Riina knew.
“Thank you, Captain,” Riina said. She glanced at her timepiece. “Let’s return here in half an hour? We have some video from Dr. Walker to study. It’s from their entertainment broadcasts. We need to get a feel for the inhabitants of Arroxan Prime.”
“Cool,” Lt. Dish said. She bent to pick up her gear, but Trac beat her—and Tim—to it.
“Let me assist you,” Trac said. “I have no gear to stow.”
Now Tim turned toward her, but it felt as if he avoided her gaze.
“You brought no gear?” he asked.
“I brought it aboard earlier,” Riina said. She and the captain had needed to discuss their approach to the planet.
Was it her imagination that Tim’s gaze shot toward the captain for a few seconds?
She gave an imperceptible sigh. This mission was going to be challenging on multiple levels.
3
Pollin Sollin walked quickly down the quiet street, stopping at intervals to check his surroundings. And once he stopped for a particularly troublesome tremor. Their leaders claimed the seismic activity wasn’t getting worse, but Pollin wasn’t sure he believed them.
He stopped in front of a two-story house—none of their buildings were particularly tall—glanced both ways and then slipped up to the door, using the shadows of the low-lying bushes in the yard as much as possible.
He gave the knock. Listened for the return knock. Knocked again.
The door opened just enough for him to slip inside. A blanket hung over the door, so that no light could escape into the street. The windows had been blacked out, too.
Despite these precautions, the lighting was dim, the shapes around the room shadowy.
Any other night, the precautions would have amused him.
He knew everyone there. And they knew him. There’d been no new members since Herk Taan had relocated to the southern pole.
He had been a good recruiter, too good some thought.
It wasn’t that their gathering was illegal. Their government was indifferent to their cause. But sometimes employers were less willing to overlook their level of interest in alien life forms.
“Has anyone heard from Herk?” Drun Marik was their unofficial head. He had to be particularly careful because he worked for state security.
His bosses probably knew what Drun got up to in his spare time, but he was good at his job and what was the harm?
Pollin took an empty seat at the back. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he was the last one there. He’d debated coming. He sat with his hands clenched in his lap, his fist clenching and unclenching.
At first, he’d been so excited. This was what they’d been waiting for, searching for, planning for.
