Alone on the dusty surface of Hortha, I hover using my jetpack and scan the ground for signs of movement. I keep low—I prefer hunting targets with my eyes rather than my scope. The terrain transitions from smooth brown rock to bright red mud, studded with tiny blue dots.
Disengaging my thrusters, I land in a small puff of dust. I crouch, careful to avoid squishing the pulsing critters surrounding me—hundreds of them, spread over Gernam Crater's floor. They roll around and bounce off each other in a frenzy.
I pluck one from the group with my gloved hand. Startlingly blue, it’s somehow thriving out here on the sunny orange mudflats, with no camouflage. Its ball-like body throbs, and it struggles to focus on me with its singular eye. No limbs, save for a tiny flexible proboscis.
I take my handheld scanner and lift my prize up to the sensor, waiting for the readings to tick on the screen. The blob pulses at me, an eye swivelling in a slimy socket.
—Specimen Scanned—
A hologram of the critter hovers in front of me, a faithful reproduction, detailed and crisp.
—Record Specimen Name—
Sol's sake. How can they expect me to think up a unique name for every stray I find?
I hold the tiny alien up to my visor—nothing more than a small ball of translucent blue jello. It squeals at me, wriggling in my grasp. I jab at my Scanner with a free thumb.
—Enter Name: Jello Ball—
—Error: Specimen cannot be uploaded. Please upload to Solnet to claim 100 credits—
Still out of signal, then. At least the scan has been saved to local data.
Tossing Jello Ball over my shoulder, I engage my jetpack thrusters again, a plume of flame billowing out under my feet. I launch over the nearby edge of the rock bowl and realise I just incinerated a large portion of the Jello Ball population, but no matter. I’ll still get paid.
Out of the crater, I scan the horizon for another likely spot. So far, I've had a lucrative hunt, scanning enough specimens to buy fuel for another month.
A gigantic cave looms in the distance, cut into a mass of rocky hills. I flip down my goggles and enlarge the view as I hover mid-air. Is that bioluminescence I see? Zoom in again. Yes. Jackpot.
I jet towards the cave, scanning the ground below me for any rare finds enroute. It would be so much easier if I could upload specimens right away, but the Solnet connection out here is ridiculous.
The cave mouth opens over the crater, forty feet from ground level to its roof. Inside, it’s massive—the entry point leads to a gaping chasm carved into the craggy rock. My footsteps echo from the walls, the only sound picked up by my suit microphone.
It's a gold mine.
Fungi plaster every surface, sideways and upside-down—every colour of the spectrum on display in various shapes and sizes. I scan them greedily, landing as close as possible to obtain hi-def holos. Some of them glow—perfect specimens of fungal luminescence. Their spores float like fireflies and coat my astrosuit.
—Specimen Scanned—
—Enter Name: Green Ghost Shroom—
—Enter Name: Pink Shocker—
—Enter Name: Ultraviolet Blob—
—Enter Name: Little Brown Thing—
—Enter Name: I dunno, whatever—
And not just fungi—critters scurry round, darting under rocks and hiding in shallow acid pools. Avoiding these—I'm not stupid enough to risk my suit's integrity—I lift stones and scan the treasures clinging to the bottoms.
—Specimen Scanned—
—Enter Name: Sweaty Fluffworm—
—Enter Name: Shrieking Puff—
—Enter Name: Pink Naked Critter—
—Enter Name: Dirty Trunk Mouse?—
—Enter Name: I Don't Care Anymore Just Pay Me—
Hours pass, the first Sun in the binary system sets, and my astrosuit begins to emit a small warning.
"One hour of life support remaining."
I can get to my ship, top up the tanks and return for round two. More flora and fauna wait to be claimed. I'm amazed none of these specimens are on the database yet, especially as I'm surrounded by evidence of Visitors. Gernam Crater was crawling with footprints and landing trails, and I passed two grounded ships on my entry flight. They're most likely abandoned, not worth salvaging; I'll be able to buy a whole new ship by the time I cash in.
I hop back to the entrance, crushing a Shrieking Puff under my boot. Curiously, it doesn't shriek—it lets out a sort of sigh instead. I'm momentarily interested and consider logging my findings, but I dismiss the distraction in favour of extending my life.
The second Sun sets on the horizon. The horizon, which is... moving.
Undulating, almost. Like a series of hills decided to uproot themselves and shimmy along in the far distance, swaying and slithering across the distant terrain.
Getting bigger, closer, a procession of worm-like humps kicking up dust clouds and barrelling towards me.
My stomach sinks. I attended a lecture about these creatures back when I was starry-eyed and fearless. Theories about gigantic worms that formed tunnels in the rock and built nests deep underground. Monsters from the fiction of the old days. And here they are, right ahead of me.
I have no desire to see them up close.
Shooting back inside, I try to find a suitable crevice to duck into. The critters have disappeared, no doubt scared off by the very vibration of the ground.
I thrust upward to the ceiling before I remember my tank only has an hour of oxygen left, and every use of the jetpack burns more as an accelerant. With a flick of a switch, I disengage the thrusters and come down to the floor, faster than anticipated. My foot smashes through a coral-like outcropping, and the terrain gives way beneath me.
Fifteen feet down, I crumple, shards of pain shooting up my leg. I sit up and immediately check my suit for rips and tears. The seals are still intact; I got off lucky this time. But my life support tanks won't last much longer—I need to get out.
The ground vibrates as the giant worm churns the rock outside. I pray it won't come any closer and shine my torch around the walls of my cell—a twenty-foot bubble. Jetpacking through the gap would be impossible at this short distance. I'd collide with the ceiling multiple times and waste good oxygen.
And the worm is still swimming in the ground outside.
I tread across the soft floor, scanning the walls and ceiling for any openings or signs of the glow from above. A rumble—my breath shallows and quickens as I search. Stepping forward again, I sink into a yielding mound of earth. Turning my torch downward, I choke on a gasp.
A purple astrosuit covered in blood and reddish chunks, a helmet with a smashed visor. I can't discern a face behind the spiderwebbed plexiglass. I'm standing in its torso, stuck in its ribcage.
I kick my foot, but it's jammed inside the rotting remains. My torch jiggles around and highlights numerous other horrors scattered along the floor—astrosuits in different colours, with faction logos emblazoned on their mutilated chests: at least five bodies, maybe more. My stomach flips when I realise I can't estimate the actual number.
Engage the jetpack; just get unstuck—the oxygen’s worth it.
I squeeze the trigger on my glove and soar ten feet upwards. At first, the ribcage hooks my boot and dangles beneath me. I shake my leg again, and the cadaver detaches, smashing on the ground.
"Thirty minutes of life support remaining."
The voice surprises me, and I jerk, yanking on the controls. I overcorrect, and the force flings me into the nearest wall with a sickening crunch. My jetpack falls silent.
I wait for the fall, but nothing happens. I'm stuck, suspended in mid-air. The wall’s covered in long strings of slime, dangling from one surface and stretching to another. It coats the back of my elbow—I can't move my other arm to inspect the damage, and I can't turn my head. I try to kick, but my legs are held fast by something unseen. I'm trapped.
No. I won't go down like this. This isn't the first time I've been caught in a beast's web—all in a cycle's work for a Visitor. I steady my breathing to conserve oxygen, and survey the area.
The rumbling subsides; the giant worm must have moved on to another hunting ground. Perhaps it sensed me and lost the trail, now that I'm stuck off the ground.
My scanner unit lies on the floor, the light falling on the faction badge of a dead Visitor. Reminds me of Grey Unison, but I can't be sure from this distance.
When I first took up the Visitor gig, I wanted to join the Greys. I was keen, passionate about the science, and excited to find each new life. Grey Unison prioritise the science—they don't pay Visitors per scan. Everyone who works with them gets a basic wage, a decent one at that. They say it helps improve data quality if their operatives aren't rushing to make more credits.
Damn hard to gain access, though.
I wonder if I could claim the dead man's boots, if I can get out of here.
Boom.
The walls shudder—creatures overhead skitter back to their hiding spots. Shrieking Puffs emit a high-pitched wheeze while they flee. The sound echoes down the hole in the ceiling and bounces around, reflecting off my fallen predecessors' helmets.
Boom.
I understand now. No one gets out of here. These Visitors all tried to scan here, too, with no signal, so they couldn't upload the data. They had to stay longer, search deeper. Then they found this place, or something found them.
Boom.
The cavern, the slime...
Boom.
It’s a nest.
Boom!
The sticky wall collapses and crumbles, and I'm dragged with it, cocooned as a gigantic beast grabs me and turns me, over and over, until I'm spun into a sac of mucus and clothing and flesh, with only my helmet exposed. As my narrow window of vision spins and twists, I'm greeted by flashes of limbs and body parts, some human and suited, others decidedly not human.
My mind engages in detached calculation to distract me, to keep me calm. I catalogue the beast’s features, label body parts. An armoured green thorax, its underbelly bigger than my ship. Segmented shiny legs with suckers; for climbing upside down, perhaps. Mucus drips from every limb, making the beast's body glisten in the near-dark. It manipulates the slime, continuing to weave me into its trap, the snips of its pincers echoing from the walls.
—Specimen Wrapped—
A handy snack. I wonder what label it will give me in its mind while it deliberates what to have for dinner.
—Enter Name: Tasty Orange Suit—
It strikes with its mantis-like head. I try to squirm out of my bindings, but I'm held fast, staring into its giant soulless eyes. The monster jabs at my helmet. At first, a tiny crack appears, a single chink in the glass. One more hit, and it cracks further, spiderwebbing across my whole field of vision. Two holes expand in the visor, and the beast shoves its mouthparts through, invading my suit.
I'm gasping, choking on the poisonous air. But this critter is hungry; it isn't going to save me for later. I'm helpless in its grasp as its mandibles spread around my throat. I choke on fumes and blood as it sucks on my fluids.
Finally, I'm tossed aside. My ragdoll form rolls over the desiccated corpses of other Visitors. I'm paralysed, gasping, a fish out of water.
The mantis beast stomps over on giant crab legs and places a claw on my head.
In my dying moments, I remember the Shrieking Puff and let out a sort of sigh.
Ria Rees writes from her cosy cottage in Wales, praying that her creations will never become sentient. Her first loves in fiction were Horror and Sci-Fi, and she leaps at any chance she gets to combine the two. Her writing is published or forthcoming in Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, Bag of Bones Press and Martian Magazine. www.riarees.com
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