Looking up into the bruised violet haze of the sky, Lamont could see the bright point of light that was Westward, their morning star.
“The storm has passed,” Rosemary announced, glancing over her shoulder after peering through the small cave entrance. The smallest of the three, she had taken the lead on their journey back through the tunnels while Lamont helped the captain. That is, on the rare occasion that Francis accepted his help. For most of the trek, either because of the confined spaces or because of the captain’s stubborn self-will, Carter hobbled or crawled under his own power.
“Radiation levels?” The captain asked, his voice reverberating tinnily against the hard stone.
The medic checked the dosimeter on her sleeve. “Not ideal, but tolerable for a while.”
The air outside the cave was very still; cold, but not with the biting frigidity that Lamont had come to expect from before. The scent of ozone hung thickly in the haze, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. Aside from the descent of a twilight darkness over the landscape, the scene was largely identical to before. A few knocker heads and glimmers of what may have been metal bits were scattered across the bony ground. There was no sign of natives, humanoid or otherwise.
With nothing to hold onto, Francis reluctantly accepted Lamont’s help again as they hobbled slowly in the direction of the lift. Looking up into the bruised violet haze of the sky, Lamont could see the bright point of light that was Westward, their morning star. His left arm over Lamont’s shoulder, Carter attempted to reach the space elevator with the radio on his free wrist. After a few minutes, he succeeded.
A flurry of relieved voices came through the small speaker.
“Captain, are you—”
“We’re so glad you’re—”
“Where are you?”
Carter interrupted them. “We’re on our way back from the mountain range. Prepare the elevator for departure.”
Ed Spratt’s voice came through next. “Sir, who is with you?”
The captain swallowed. “Mr. Townsend and Miss Wells.”
After a moment of silence came the sober reply. “Understood. We’ll be ready for lift-off when you arrive.”
Halfway to the lift, they were met by Rico, Theresa and Clifford. The two men had their automatics close at hand.
“Captain!” Theresa exclaimed when she saw Carter’s condition. “If we’d known, we would have brought a stretcher.”
“The captain ordered me not to mention it,” Rosemary complained.
“Any trouble at the elevator?” Carter asked, ignoring them.
“A run-in with some natives just as the storm was gearing up,” Clifford said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “A dozen little people, nasty looking, with all kinds of deformations. Armed to the gills with spears and clubs.”
“What did you do?” Carter asked, his eyes widening with alarm.
“We frightened them off,” Rico shrugged.
Theresa bumped the security specialist’s beefy arm with her fist. “Rico turned his oxygen unit and a flare into a makeshift blowtorch. Pretty clever for a meathead.”
Rico’s dark face blushed. “I am glad that they took the hint before somebody got hurt.”
“Thank you,” The captain said, apparently relieved. “Let’s get out of here.”
Next: Impressions