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“The FRX’s primary mission with our colony was to discover new resources, so I’d like some of the geologists to be present when the latrines are dug,” Colonel Martin says. “The other scientists will be performing their individual missions, and the military will be spread evenly throughout the area to protect everyone. ”
“From those things you’re calling ‘pteros’?”
“Precisely. ” Colonel Martin leans back, inviting me to continue, and I cannot help but feel that somehow he’s using his words in the same way a spider uses a web.
“But you’re not concerned about protecting us from whatever built the ruins we’re now living in?” I ask.
“I’ll remind you that it was your idea to settle in these ruins,” Colonel Martin says genially. “And it was a good idea. But as of now we have no reason to suspect that the life-forms that built the structures we’re currently residing in mean us any harm or, in fact, are even still currently on this planet. ”
I stare at him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t.
“You’re not even curious about them?” I ask, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. “They’re human size, they made buildings that fit our needs perfectly, and there’s not a single trace of them. You don’t even care?”
“I care,” Colonel Martin says, his voice grave, “about our colony’s future. Not this planet’s history. ”
“So you want toilets and dirt samples,” I growl. “And I’m guessing I can’t expect any of your people to do any digging. ”
Colonel Martin stops. “We can provide tools, but we don’t have the manpower to—”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. I should have known. Orion’s warnings ring in my ears. “So my people are the ones doing all the work?”
Colonel Martin shifts. “There are only one hundred of us—actually, only ninety-eight—”
“And all ninety-eight of you will be pissing in the toilets,” I snap.
“We will help. I’ll have some of my men help lay down the water pipe, and as I said, the geologists will be hands-on to gather the soil samples for evaluation. We have to work together, Elder. ” Colonel Martin doesn’t sound patronizing; there’s real concern in his voice, and the sincere look on his face is the same one Amy wore every time she made me a promise. He really means what he’s saying.
I sigh. Would I have been so antagonistic if I didn’t have Orion’s words ringing in my head? If I hadn’t seen him die less than an hour ago?
“I know,” I say. “I understand. We’re in this together. ”
I just wish saying that didn’t make the situation feel so ominous.
Amy catches me as I’m helping to pass out our lunch rations—a single serving of dehydrated wall food that is both dry and tasteless. My people accept the packets of food gratefully, and they eat them huddled together and standing up in the bones of the buildings we’ll be living in from now on.
She has The Little Prince in her hands.
“Let’s talk to Kit,” she says in an excited undertone. “She worked with the wi-coms with Doc; maybe she knows a way to amplify yours so you can reach the ship. If we can just talk to Bartie or someone still on Godspeed, maybe we can figure out where Orion’s next clue is—”
“No,” I say heavily. I hoist the bag of food rations higher up my shoulder and make my way to the next stone building. Amy follows.
“Why not?” she says. “It’s worth a try. ”
“Maybe it is,” I say. I start handing out the packets to the next group of people. “But there’s work that has to be done first. I can’t let my people starve. ”
“Elder!” Amy looks shocked. “You can’t let them be food for pteros either. ”
I don’t have the energy to argue. I just keep passing out food rations, and she leaves me in a huff, taking the book with her.
After lunch, I follow the group heading out to work on digging toilets first. It would be wrong of me to ask my people to work without working myself. I grab a pickax and spend the next several hours digging trenches, throwing every ounce of frustration at the hurt look Amy gave me into the task at hand. At first, my people freeze at each unknown noise and shadow, but as the day progresses and they realize that most of the commotion is caused by the geologists who are there to collect soil samples, they cease jumping and concentrate instead on finishing up the job ahead of them as quickly as possible, despite the intense heat.
I, for one, rip my shirt off. It’s sweltering here, the air heavy like it was just before the storm. Sweat pours off me as I swing my pickax down into the yellowish sandy soil for the umpteenth time.
But this time the ax doesn’t stop. It plunges through the dirt, and suddenly the ground around it breaks away, sending me and the ten or so others digging nearby crashing through the crumbling ground, falling into the darkness. For a moment I feel as if gravity has disappeared like when the shuttle was landing, but then I slam into the cold, hard earth below, dust billowing around me, clinging to my sweaty skin as the wind is knocked out of me.
“The frex?” Tiernan, one of the workers who’d been helping me, says. We both peer up—and then around. The hole we’d been digging for latrines has given way to an eerily large tunnel.
“Elder?” several of the Feeders call, peering down into the collapsed tunnel.
