Pandora's Chase

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chase awoke to a bright yellow sun bearing down on his sore body. He had been unconscious for a long time, and the sun's position had changed. The Night Hawk's shadow had shifted, exposing his face and most of his body. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the sunlight, he squinted, and then felt the sting of mild sunburn across his cheeks and nose. This sun was much stronger than Earth's, and he was thankful he'd woken up before he burned to a crisp.

The air was dry and hot, and Chase's tongue was like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. When he swallowed to try to wet his mouth, he ended up his coughing from the dust that had settled in his throat. He was dehydrated, he knew, and had to get some water quickly before he was totally incapacitated.

He used what energy he had had left to briskly scavenge the ship's debris field for any sign of water. He was relieved when he spotted the word 'WATER' on a piece of the hull nearby, the bright yellow letters sitting upside down. He shuffled over to the tank and reached out with a bloodied, bruised hand, pressing the release button to expose a coupling inside. The coupling was foreign to him, but he plunged his fingers in anyway, hoping he could jar something loose that would allow the water to start flowing.

But he couldn't get it to work. His knees almost buckled underneath him, and he gasped, his breath shallow and dry. He wasn't even sweating at this point, despite the rippling heat of the day. He had to get to the water now. But how?

Then he remembered he had a gun. The gun his father had given him. He dug inside his coat and pulled it out. He almost shot the intake valve the moment he flicked the safety off the gun, desperate to get to the water inside the tank. But he thought better of it.

He backtracked first and found an aluminum canister with a lid to use as a bottle. He unscrewed the lid of the canister and poured out the old contents, a variety of nuts and bolts. The small bits and pieces pelted the hard sands on the ground as he trudged back to the valve.

Then, without further ado, he shot the tank.

Water gushed out, hitting Chase directly in the face and knocking him to the ground. He drank as much as he could from the geyser before he ran out of air. The stream weakened, and he placed his container under the flow. When his makeshift bottle was full, he washed the blood and grime from his body until the stream was nothing more than a trickle from the bullet hole.

The water saturated the surface of the ground and the pool that had collected immediately began seeping into the ground. Energized by the water and the quick shower, Chase gathered his pack and replaced his gun in the holster under his coat.

"I don't need a jacket here," he said out loud to himself. He took it off and stuffed it in his pack and then gazed out at his surroundings in an attempt to establish some kind of bearing. Straight out from the side of the ship to his left was an endless expanse of desert. There were no enormous, shifting dunes, but the land was barren as far as the eye could see. He turned to look the other direction and was glad to see a green hill rise up from the sand in the distance. It wasn't tall, but it stretched far toward the horizon. It was hard to guess the exact distance between the ship and the hill, but Chase concluded it was walking distance. And even if it wasn't, he had to try anyway.

It was the only place he could go.

Unless he decided to wait at the ship.

But that came with risks. Anybody who showed up, having seen the crash, could be help. Or they could be thieves, out for the opportunity to salvage any valuables. Or they could be authorities. Authorities, Chase knew, would probably be the worst outcome, since he would likely be taken in for questioning or outright arrested under suspicion of some crime. Knowing Kanor and his crew, they could have been violating any number of laws on this trip. And if Chase got arrested, he'd either be held up too long to save the Earth or the rogue IPAC faction would eventually track him down and try to take the disk for themselves.

He decided to head out to the green hill and wait to see if anyone showed up, to begin with. If someone did, he'd evaluate them after they arrived. If they looked hostile or dangerous...

Before embarking on his hike, Chase spent some time rummaging through the cargo bay area for anything that might help him survive. The hill seemed forested, but it was too far away to tell what the land would be like. In the end, he was able to top off his intake of water from the bathroom in the mechanic's area as well has his makeshift canteen. He also packed spare clothes, his coat, a small tarp and rope, and as much food as he could fit in his pack. And, of course, he still had the box for the disk, the dark gray sphere, and the real map.

Chase climbed out of the cargo bay area--and found himself cornered. He froze, unable to breathe. There were three of them. They were longer than most men were tall and strangely featureless, with skin-pink antennae protruding from one end, which they used to dig into the sand where Chase had spilled the tank water earlier. There were four trails in the dirt behind them, leading off into the distance, until they disappeared into what seemed like burrows of some kind.

The creatures paid no attention to Chase. Still, he moved slowly, passing the makeshift ramp to reach the other side of the hold's doorway. Watching the creatures closely, he tread softly backwards, hoping they would not sense his presence. He did not want to find out how dangerous they were.

When there seemed to be enough space between him and the creatures, he finally turned to face the hills so he could sprint away.

And found himself face to blank face with another creature.

For a second, nothing happened. Then Chase made a motion to go around it and the thing's blank face peeled back like a flap with a disgusting squelch, revealing rows of sharp black teeth and a pink tongue. Chase shouted, whipped up his gun, and fired two shots at the creature as he took off for the hills. The thing recoiled, clamped its mouth shut, and started to burrow its way down into the dry earth, but Chase didn't stick around to see if it really left.

He dashed as fast as he could away from the ship, until his ribs started to ache, and then slowed down to a quick walk. Breathing hard, he checked over his shoulder, scanning the ground between him and the ship. The other creatures were now burrowing back into the ground, and the one that had almost attacked him was nowhere to be seen. He finally stopped, panting, and took in the scene, searching for any signs that he was still in danger.

Nothing.

He took a minute to regain his breath before restarting his trek to the distant mountains. If he moved at a steady jog, he could make it there without stopping again. As soon as his ribs stopped hurting, he adjusted his pack on his back, turned to start jogging, and took a single step.

And that's when the ground to his right broke away to reveal two pink antennae.

Chase stopped in his tracks and grabbed his gun again, then sucked in a deep breath, ready to run for his life.

But he didn't have to. At least, not away from the creatures.

Because a silver canister landed two meters in front of him, and a voice from an intercom called out from the sky above: "Stop! Move and you're dead!"

Hovering above him was the quietest aircraft he'd ever seen.