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At the time of your landing, a signal was relayed directly to the Financial Resource Exchange. Rest assured that even now, the FRX is preparing a shuttle filled with aid and supplies for your colony. Advanced technology means that this shuttle should reach your location very soon.
I gape at the computer screen. Soon? What does that mean? It took three centuries for Godspeed to reach the planet.
I glance at Colonel Martin. His hands twitch near the controls. He’s torn—do we interrupt and ask for clarification or wait for the end of the speech?
The voice turns grave as it continues.
Additionally, it’s essential that we inform you of what dangers exist on the planet. First we would like to remind you that both the escape shuttle and Godspeed proper are equipped with lock-down capabilities, and should the need arise, do not hesitate to seal yourselves inside until our aid reaches you.
Static interrupts the message momentarily. Colonel Martin scans the controls but isn’t sure what to touch.
It is essential that you resume communication with us via the probe as soon as possible so that we may more accurately relay the information we have gathered about the current population of threatening—
There’s a pop! and some more crackling sounds, and then suddenly the voice cuts out, drowned out by static. A high-pitched whistling sound rings in my ears as the screen goes black. The air is eerily silent, our communication with Sol-Earth severed once again.
“What happened?” I ask as Colonel Martin bends over the computer.
“I’m not sure. . . . ” He types on the screen, but it goes black. “Maybe the communication systems were damaged when you almost crashed my shuttle. ”
Before I can comment on his claiming ownership of my shuttle, gunshots boom behind us, so unexpected that I jump. Bledsoe crouches on the floor of the bridge, using the wall to steady her arm as she takes careful aim. I follow her gaze and see the—the thing—soaring above us, its talons outstretched, already eager to rip us to shreds. Another gunshot cracks out, followed by a piercing cry. The bird-thing changes direction but isn’t hit.
“What the hell is that?” Colonel Martin says. His own gun is already in his hand, his knuckles white around the grip.
“That’s the same kind of creature I saw earlier,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Amy said that it looked like a”—I try to remember the word she used—“like a dinosaur, a, um . . . a terro . . . ?”
“I know what it looks like, damn it, but what is it?”
I hide my smirk. So we’ve finally encountered something that’s capable of breaking Colonel Martin’s cool exterior. “Before we landed, we were warned about . . . ” I pause. It sounds silly to say, but there’s no other word for it. “Monsters. ”
Colonel Martin squints up at the creature soaring overhead. It’s huge—even this far away, it blots out some of the suns’ light.
Bledsoe takes one last shot, but it’s clear the monster has flown too far away.
“Maybe I did crash-land the shuttle,” I say, “but I think maybe one of those things knocked us off course. ”
“Don’t waste ammunition,” Colonel Martin barks at Bledsoe. She doesn’t lower her gun, but I see her finger slide off the trigger. “We should get inside; it isn’t safe here. I want to find out more about this damn ‘population of threatening’ whatever,” he continues, turning to me. “Bledsoe and I will go out with a group of eight more men. If we find one of the probes, we should be able to establish a secure, consistent communication link with Earth and get a better idea of what we’re facing. ”
Colonel Martin heads to the door. Bledsoe backs up slowly, her hand still on the gun. “Elder, I need you to keep your people calm. ” Colonel Martin says this as a command, not a request.
“I’m going with you,” I say.
Colonel Martin pauses, his hand on the door. “No civilians. ”
“My people need to see that we’re equal. They need to know that I’m involved, and I have a right to know what you say to Earth. ”
“Of course,” Colonel Martin agrees. “But in this moment, the important thing is for them to have someone to turn to. You need to be the strong core, the rock they can depend on. ”
“I—”
Colonel Martin opens the door and herds me inside, Emma Bledsoe close behind. She slams the door shut and locks it. The air inside the shuttle tastes bitter and metallic compared to the warm, fresh breeze we’ve just left behind.
“I need you here, Elder,” Colonel Martin says. “I need someone I can trust to protect the shuttle. ”
“But—”
“I’m leaving you with precious cargo: our people. Your people. Are you up to the task?”
“Yes,” I say, “but—”
