Lost Colony Ch. 07

"What do you think, Bogg?" Having joined Sparr for his morning circuits of the deck, the creature now lay at his feet. Sparr scratched at Bogg's flanks, earning an appreciative groan.

Jance finally tired of examining the model. "You still planning to, ah, 'take in the sights' at Horn Island?"

Sparr had mentioned the possibility to Jance the previous day. "Yes, if you don't mind dropping me off."

"I can drop you off no problem. The crew won't like it, but we'll get there during the daylight, which isn't as spooky. It's picking you back up that's the problem." The two had already discussed the logistics. The Shai had a schedule to keep. Captain Jance could hardly stick around while Sparr explored the island.

"You said other ships pass through the strait?"

"Oh, yes, yes." Jance pointed to the shore. "It's quite narrow there, and the currents favor a close passage to the island. If you can camp for a day or two, someone will come along. Of course, I'll also keep a lookout myself, next time I head to Caibo."

Sparr thanked him, but he had no intention of retracing his steps to Caibo. Whatever he found on Horn Island, the Odysseus was his destiny. There would be no turning back.

***

"I thought we'd entertain each other one more night."

Sparr and Aine stood alongside each other at dawn, peering over the ship's railing. "I don't think I have anything left," he joked.

"I don't believe you, Alain Sparr." Aine reached a hand to his cock and began to fondle it. "Anyway," she said, "I did most of the work last night."

She had. After mutual, teasing foreplay, Aine had practically vaulted on top of Sparr. With a naughty smile, the brunette had ridden him, her hair and breasts tickling his chest. She took her time, grinding her clit against the base of his cock before pulling nearly free of his fat, full length, then slapping back against him. She used him like a toy, taking her pleasure with the confidence of a woman who knows that ecstasy is shared. They had cum together, just before Aine's strength failed.

"You might be right," Sparr admitted. Aine had quickly made him hard.

"What is it you seek on that island?"

Sparr had no ready answer, his motivations elusive even to himself. "The disturbance you saw there," he began, "I believe it may have to do with me."

"The man from demon island," Aine said, laughter creeping into her voice. "It does have a nice ring to it."

He started to object, but abandoned the attempt. Anything he said would make him sound even crazier. Then he remembered. "The Precipice will pay a bounty if I, uh, quiet things down."

"You could just have said you couldn't bear the thought of sleeping with me one more night."

The planet's star, K2-136, sliced over the horizon. It glinted off of the restless, grey water, and began chasing away the mist that had settled against the sea overnight. A few solitary shore birds passed overhead. Some stopped to rest on the ship's railing, flicking their heads curiously toward the two travelers.

"There it is," Aine said. She released her grip on Sparr's organ to point out a flat, gravelly spit of land just coming into view.

"That's the island?" Sparr asked, skeptically.

"This is the narrow end of the horn," she said. "It widens and rises as it curls away from the strait. The far end is at least ten kilometers from here."

The crew gathered on deck, readying for the approach. They pulled the lashings from a skiff and lowered it over the side, all the while muttering and eyeing the approaching island nervously. Some shot glances at Sparr, shaking their heads either in anger or disbelief. The helmsmen fought to keep the Shai from blowing too close to the shore.

Others joined the audience for his departure. Ota and Chi, accompanied by the girl, stood aft, watching with solemn expressions. Sparr wondered how much they knew, and how much was simply Precipice lore. Did they really think the island was overrun with demons?

"It's almost time," Jance said. He joined the two, leaning against the rail and watching as the shore grew close. "Thank you for sharing your ship design with me Alain."

"I hope you can build it," Sparr said. "Or at least use some of the ideas."

"Come find me in Santi when you're done here," the captain said.

"Me, too," Aine said. She embraced Sparr, giving him a lingering kiss. "Just ask around for the house of Ost." Finally, she pulled away, her hands sliding across his body. Sparr felt more than a twinge of regret. He had stumbled upon, or been urged into, a number of sexual encounters in the few months on Kaybe. Of those, his nights with Aine had felt the most natural, each giving and taking according to their needs. With luck he would find her again.

One of the crewmen, a brute with matted hair and pocked skin, lowered himself into the skiff. Another crewman held a line as Sparr did the same. There was an awkward moment as Bogg eyed him from the deck. No one one seemed to know the best way to get the animal into the skiff.

"Pull away," Jance urged. "You'll see."

Sparr was far from certain, but the brute dutifully obliged. He tugged at the oars, pulling well clear of the Shai in only a few strokes. Bogg raised his head, sniffed the air, and leapt into the water. The creature kicked his powerful back legs and swam toward them.

He reached the shore before the skiff.

***

Sparr gathered his pack, and with Bogg following closely, walked along the shore. As Aine had said, the land rose gradually. Gravel gave way to sandy soil dotted with sea grass, which in turn yielded to low scrub and tiny, flowering bushes. Ground-roosting birds squawked suspiciously, defending nests of twigs and rock.

He needed to study the island before nightfall. If, as he suspected, the place was patrolled by Alliance drones, darkness would be problematic. The machines' thermal imaging would spot him easily. During the day, he would at least have a chance of spotting, or hearing, them first.

By noon he had traveled more than halfway from the spit to the steep, rocky prominence that marked the opposite end of the island. He ate a meal of dried fish while Bogg foraged, first nibbling at some grey berries, then upending a rotting log to expose a bonanza of insects and their larvae. Only having his muzzle scratched seemed to give the creature greater comfort than eating.

The two pressed on. Sparr was convinced that any activity would be at the rocky, elevated end of the island. He stopped just short of the outcrop to establish a well-hidden camp. Here, two fallen trees created a natural alcove against the side of a boulder. He would be shielded from any drone which happened to fly over the spot, but had a good view toward the outcropping. Sparr unbuckled Bogg's pack and stuffed it into the nook. He wasn't worried about the creature being spotted. In fact, Bogg might prove a helpful distraction, but the pack would give him away as a domesticated animal. He and the unencumbered animal crept toward, carefully skirting the end of the island.

Sparr found what he sought almost immediately. A level space had been cut from the rock, probably hundreds of years prior. It was overgrown, the once-even rock cracked and tormented by vines and saplings, but it was unmistakably the work of men. At the far edge, against the hill, two heavy doors stood ajar. They were filthy, and covered with moss, but bore no sign of damage. Something had opened them without force. Horn Island wasn't a scavenged wreck. Whatever lay beyond the doors had only recently been exposed.

Warily, Sparr crawled back toward his hiding spot, then circled around the other side of the hill. As the mid afternoon turned into early evening, he explored the hillside both above and below the doors, finding nothing more than scrub and rock. Then, just as he turned back, he heard a faint hiss. Not three meters from where he stood, a vent expelled thick, humid air into the cool Kaybe evening. Sparr heard the unmistakable sound of machinery. Yet another forgotten colonist site had been awakened by the Alliance. He retreated before nightfall could catch him in the open.

*

If Sparr had hoped to find the facility unguarded, those hopes were dashed as night fell. Preceded by the whine of its thrusters, an Alliance military drone floated into view. It was the same type that had attacked the pilgrimage, armored, arrayed with sensors, and equipped with stunwires or worse. As Sparr watched nervously, it began a circuit of the island. A powerful beam attached to its undercarriage helped illuminate the foliage and rock.

Sparr swore softly. The last time he had fought a drone it had been in the company of friends. Kern had damaged it, Sparr had shot it, and Silla had stabbed the machine's insides with a heavy blade. Even then it had taken more than a dozen blows to silence it. On his own Sparr had little chance.

Worse, he feared being discovered by the Alliance. He was stranded on Horn Island until he could flag a passing ship. If he took out the drone with violence he might very well be targeted by its replacement before he could flee the island. There had to be another way. He did have the heavy pistol he had taken from the fence. That weapon might indeed be able to take out the drone, but the problem of retaliation would remain.

With the aid of his implant's timer, Sparr studied the drone's patterns. After an hour and fifteen minutes the menacing device returned to the doorway. Half an hour later it re-emerged to begin another circuit. Meanwhile, the sounds of machinery spilled ever louder from the facility. Whatever was happening in the bowels of the island, it seemed to intensify at night. Sparr timed the drone once more before sleep caught him.

"Rrrrawrrrf"

Sparr fought for consciousness, disoriented and confused. Bogg's call of distress tugged him toward awareness. He opened his eyes.

Bogg stood in the little clearing just outside Sparr's hiding place. The animal swayed on his hind legs, swiping futilely at the drone, which hovered just out of reach. The machine darted left and right, no doubt scanning the creature, recording it.

Trying not to reveal himself, Sparr fumbled for the heavy pistol. If the machine attacked Bogg he would take it out. Though he had shared its company for less than two weeks, Sparr had grown fond of the beast. He would fight to protect it.

The precaution turned out to be unnecessary. After a few scans, the probe lost interest. With Bogg bellowing behind it, the machine returned to the facility. Quiet once again returned to the little clearing, but Sparr's mind was angry and alert. He had to destroy the device before it discovered him. A plan came to mind.

As soon as the machine was out of sight, Sparr launched himself toward the doors. "Implant," he said, "start a twenty-five minute timer."

Working swiftly, Sparr loosened several rocks near the facility doors. One he placed just outside the doors. Three more he lugged to a ledge just above the door frame. When the timer sounded he scrambled back to safety.

At dawn, the probe emerged yet again. It slowed briefly, its scanners attentive to the new rock that had appeared. Shortly however, the machine lost interest and began a new circuit. Again, Sparr darted forward to loosen more rocks. Following the same pattern as before, he left a few small stones just outside the doors while lugging several heavier rocks to the ledge.

Twice more the drone appeared. Its afternoon circuits were spaced farther apart, and the machine seemed to fly closer to the ground. No doubt, thought Sparr, whoever had programmed it was concerned with it attracting too much attention during daylight hours. The longer gaps gave him time to pile more rocks above the door. By nightfall he was ready.

Radio waves at twenty-five meters, his implant said. Fifteen.

Sparr readied himself. Crouched above the door, he braced his back against the hill, while his feet rested against the pile of rocks. Nervous energy spiked within him. His plan would either work or put him in great peril.

Five meters.

The shrill whine of thrusters poured from the open doors. Right on schedule, the drone was beginning another circuit of the island. Sparr took a deep breath, and as the drone emerged, kicked with all of his strength. A landslide rained down upon the machine.

A cacophonous, metallic shriek tore out across the clearing. Sparr heard one electric hiss after another, the machine's stunwires firing uselessly against the rocks. The thrusters howled and sputtered. Somewhere beneath him, the machine was dying. He peered over the ledge. To his dismay, the crippled drone was almost free of the rock pile. He couldn't let it get free, couldn't take the risk that it might detect him.

Desperately, Sparr jumped, landing with a painful grunt atop the pile of rock and metal. As the drone shuddered and lurched beneath him, he grabbed a stone. Sparr bashed it into the drone's housing, raised the stone, and struck again. Spittle flew from his lip. He sucked in a ragged lung full of air and struck again. A gout of sparks shot from the drone.

Again and again he raised the stone.

***

The facility doors spread like arms, embracing the pile of rubble, machine, and destruction. Half numb, Sparr walked through them, into a world of noise and light.

The stairs down swirled with the same thick, humid mist that Sparr had first noticed above. Carefully gripping a rail that had been built four hundred years earlier, he descended. To one side, corrugated ventilation shafts bore toward the surface. To the other, a hollow shaft dropped farther than he cared to consider. Whatever the original colonists had built here, it probed deep into the planet.

A rhythmic tapping filled the chamber, the sound growing stronger as Sparr descended, tiny but powerful recessed lights guiding his way. Though coated with grime, the ancient facility seemed completely operational. Dust, no doubt kicked up by the recent passage of the drone, slowly settled back to the floor. After dropping three flights, he came upon a small landing. Here a sign, still legible, had been bolted to the rough-hewn stone.

INGOT FABRICATION 17

Below the sign was a panel which had been violently gutted. From it, two sets of wires had been pulled free, both leading out into the room. One set was a heavy gauge suitable for power, the other had been attached to a small device which Sparr recognized as a short-range data reader. This, he surmised, was where the drone recharged between patrols. There was nothing else of interest on the landing.

Two more flights down led Sparr to the functioning core of the facility. On the left, a massive, ridged cylinder hummed and glowed, issuing forth a steady gout of the steam which filled the facility. It narrowed at the base, ending in a chute. The tapping sound came from within it. Farther along the wall, a touch-panel displayed progress.

Ingot batch 1: 3.05% complete

Ingot batch 2: 0.00% complete (ore(s) unavailable)

Ingot batch 3: 0.00% complete (ore(s) unavailable)

As Sparr struggled to understand, the cylinder clicked, then shuddered with a much louder ringing sound. A rectangular ingot of dull, silver metal dropped from the chute into a hopper.

Ingot batch 1: 3.06% complete

"What the fuck?" Sparr muttered, peering into the hopper. He picked up the newly-fabricated ingot. Still warm, the chunk of metal seemed to Sparr completely ordinary. What about the production of the metal made it so important? Something occurred to him. He fished a token from his pocket and pressed it against the ingot. Although impossible to tell for sure, the two metals seemed identical. Was someone preparing to mint new tokens? Why? Each was only as valuable as the information coded within it.

[click]

Sparr spun, startled. To his horror, another drone hovered less than three meters away.

[click]

The thing was taking his photo. Unlike the military drone, the service model that now confronted him would be unarmed. That wouldn't stop it from giving him away. As Sparr gawked, the machine began to float up the stairs. He couldn't let it reach the surface.

Sparr flung himself after the machine, half running, half throwing himself against the stairs. He was fast, but the drone was faster. The device pulled away, up, and toward the open doors above. As Sparr chased after it, he groped for a pistol.

He would be too late. Already the drone had pulled away from him, spoiling any chance at a clear shot. The machine raced past the next landing, then through the last few flights before the surface. Once clear, it could broadcast his photo. Sparr chased it desperately.

"Rwrrrrf!"

Just within sight of the doors, the drone encountered Bogg. The beast, no doubt remembering its encounter with the other drone, rose on his hind legs. The service drone tilted right, then left, but couldn't get past in the tight confines of the upper landing. Sparr took advantage of the delay, charging up the last few flights. He flung himself toward the drone, slamming it against the stone wall. Before the device could recover he kicked it away and shot it with his pistol. Unlike the military drones, the service drones were unarmored. Sparr's first shot tore a hole in the outer casing, the second shot hit the power cell. The drone crashed, the whine of its thrusters slowly fading.

"Urmfff," Bogg groaned. He rolled back onto his haunches, seemingly pleased with his role in the elimination of the threat.

Sparr drew in one ragged breath after another, trying to calm himself. Just outside the facility the battered military drone lay in the center of the rock pile. Ignoring it for the moment, he went to inspect the service drone. His shot had gutted the machine, exposing a tangle of burnt wires and the ruptured power cell. The drone's articulated arms hung limp.

Still panting with exertion, Sparr flipped the drone over. The machine's back was undamaged. Like its armored brethren, the service drone had a port for recharging, and one for wireless data transfer. He remembered the data transfer station on the next landing. Perhaps he could read the drone's memory.

Sparr half dragged, half kicked the inert drone down several flights of stairs to the next landing. He rolled the machine to the gutted panel and attached the reader. There was no screen on the landing. With a sigh, he walked to the lower level.

Ingot batch 1: 3.07% complete the display read. Sparr touched the screen, found a menu, and began to explore. In less than a minute he found a promising option.

Ingot 17, Reader 1

Sparr touched it.

Onboard storage detected. Corrupt.

"Shit!" Sparr cursed. He must have fried the memory when he shot the drone. For every piece of the mystery that he exposed, he ran into two dead ends. The facility was a mine, its shaft piercing deep into the planet, liquifying and extracting metal, and stamping it into ingots. But to what end? Who aboard the Odysseus was behind the operation? Sparr was tired. By now it was well past sunset. He had spent the day piling rocks, battling drones, and exploring the mining facility. Sleep would soon take him.

The Shong drone. Through the fog of disappointment and fatigue, Sparr remembered pulling its processor. He dug in his pack and located the module, a featureless black rectangle. "Why not?" he asked himself. One final time he trudged up the stairs and replaced the service drone's damaged processor with the one he had pried loose in Shong. He returned to the lower landing, little more than an ember of hope remaining within him.

Onboard storage detected. Two data clusters: