Chapter 7 Jean
The pod has stopped moving.
When did that happen?
I think I must have passed out for a second there. Maybe I got knocked out, but I don’t think so. My head doesn’t hurt, and it seems like the harness did a good job of keeping me firmly in my seat. All my body parts feel like they’re still intact.
I think I just fainted.
Way to go, brain. Could have used that a few minutes earlier and skipped the whole roller coaster from hell, but no…
At least it’s over now. And I’m still alive. Somehow.
The pod has come to rest at an angle, with the porthole aimed slightly upward at a gray sky. For a split second, the clouds part, and a beam of pure sunshine shoots through, temporarily blinding me. I wince and turn my face to one side. Then the clouds return, smothering the light.
Based on my perception of gravity, I would say the pod isn’t tilted very much, so the sun must be fairly low in the sky. That means it’s either morning or evening.
Oh God, please let it be morning. I don’t know if I can handle nighttime on an alien planet.
Maybe Gerber can tell me.
But… where is Gerber?
When I call his name, I get no answer, so I start looking frantically around the pod.
It’s not like there are a lot of places someone could hide inside this thing, not even a baby-sized robot like Gerber.
I can’t find him to my left or my right, and he isn’t hovering in the small amount of domed space above my head. That just leaves one other option.
I shift my feet, and my bare toes brush against feathers.
“Gerber!”
I attempt to lean forward so I can get a look at the floor of the escape pod, but the seat harness keeps me locked in place. A surge of claustrophobia hits me. I struggle against the harness like someone trying to wake up from a bad dream.
“Gerber, talk to me, dammit! How do I get this stupid harness off?”
I hear a metallic click that reminds me of a deadbolt being drawn back. This is followed by a faint, pneumatic hiss as the harness lifts and retreats back into the wall of the pod.
What the hell?
Voice activated, I guess. It could have been responding to the last phrase of my question—harness off. I’m tempted to test it by bringing the harness back down again, but I really don’t feel like getting trapped if something malfunctions.
Besides, right now Gerber is my top priority.
A quick glance down at the floor of the escape pod is enough to let me know that things are not good. The cherub is lying face down on the floor by my feet, and he’s not moving. He wasn’t secured like I was. I’m guessing he must have slammed into the side of the pod when it came to a stop.
“Oh God,” I whisper. “Please be okay.”
I’ll admit, my concern for Gerber is partly selfish.
Right now, he’s the only one who can tell me where the hell we are—and how we can get ourselves rescued.
Still, there’s more to it than that. As much as his presence annoyed me over the past several weeks, the little guy did kind of grow on me.
I know he’s just a lifeless machine, but it’s hard not to think of him as a person.
“Hey, Gerber?”
I reach down and lightly jostle his tiny body. When he doesn’t respond, I jostle a bit harder. Then I pick him up and turn him over.
“Oh no…”
Gerber is not in good shape. The right side of his plastic face has broken away, revealing the metal endoskeleton beneath.
“Shit,” I murmur as my eyes start filling up with tears. “I’m sorry, Gerber…”
I hug the broken cherub against my chest and begin to sob. I know it’s absurd. Gerber is really just a glorified toy, but at this point, he’s the closest thing I have to a friend. And now he’s dead.
No, not dead. Not really.
He’s a machine, and machines can always be fixed. Right?
Right. And who’s going to fix him? Me? Fat chance of that happening. But maybe there’s someone on this planet who can.
I allow myself another minute to cry. Then I face the reality of the situation. Right now, I’m alone on an unknown alien planet, with nothing but the escape pod to protect me. My options are limited.
A: Go outside and look for some of the other women from the Scarlet Ship.
B: Stay in the pod and wait for help to arrive.
I’m leaning very heavily toward option B.
For one thing, it’s safe inside the pod. Plus, it’s probably equipped with some kind of distress signal. If I want to get rescued—and I do—then my best bet is to stick as close to the pod as possible.
But when will help come? It’ll be another three days before anyone on Znth realizes our ship is overdue. And at least another three days after that for the Imperials to reach this planet, assuming they even know where to look.
I can’t stay in this pod for a week.
And what about Mel? I promised I would find her, but I don’t know how the hell I’m going to do that without Gerber’s help.
What am I going to do? What am I going to—
Glup!—Glup!
Something gurgles outside, and the pod shifts a few inches lower.
What the hell was that? I freeze and hold my breath, listening. For several seconds, nothing happens. Then the strange, liquid sound returns, a little louder than before.
Gloop!—Gloop!—Gloop!
This time, the pod moves several inches down.
Are we… sinking?
A rush of adrenaline hits me and I surge out of my seat, still cradling Gerber’s motionless body against my chest. The fingers of my free hand scrabble against the inside of the door, searching for a handle but finding nothing. Panic seizes me.
Then I remember my theory about the harness. Maybe the door is voice activated too. I open my mouth to issue a command, but I stop myself at the last second.
How do I know the atmosphere is safe to breathe? Maybe the air outside is filled with poisonous gas that will kill me the moment I open the door—assuming I can open it.
Glup!—Glup!—Glup!
Shit.
I set Gerber down on the cushioned seat and start searching the interior of the pod.
There aren’t many places to look, and it only takes me a few seconds to realize there’s a drawer beneath the seat.
I slide it open. Inside, there’s a soft, rectangular bag, about the size of a gym bag, and beside it, something that looks like a breathing mask.
The mask has a transparent face cover and filters down around the mouth area. Bingo.
I pick up the mask and pull it over my face. As soon as it’s in position, the straps automatically tighten around the back of my head, and the rim of the mask seems to pressurize, creating a seal. Hopefully that will do the trick.
Gloop!—Gloop!
I unzip the bag and quickly check the contents. Some folded material that looks like clothing. A canteen with water. A few plastic packages containing what appears to be food. And one more thing—a small gun.
I zip everything up again and place the bag on the seat next to Gerber. Then I turn and face the door.
This is it. The moment of truth…
“Open door.”
The door to the pod slides open, letting in a wash of warm outer air. I release a small sigh of relief.
My relief doubles when I don’t keel over dead from the atmosphere. I can’t be sure until more time has passed, but it seems like the mask is doing its job. So far so good.
I poke my head out and look around.
It’s the same desolate ash-gray landscape I saw from above, only now I’m looking at it up close.
There’s a deep trench in the ground where the escape pod skidded, but the trench ends about ten feet away, because that’s where the solid ground stops.
Between me and the shore lies a slough of thick, black mud.
Off to one side, a half a dozen massive white bones arc upward from the slowly bubbling surface, the rib cage of some massive beast.
Wait… is this what I think it is?
Did I seriously land in a freaking tar pit?
There’s no time to question my bad luck. The pod is steadily sinking now, and the surface of the tar is creeping dangerously close to the bottom lip of the door. Once that stuff starts leaking inside, I will be royally screwed.
I duck back inside the pod just long enough to grab Gerber and the supply bag. I set both of them on the roof. Then I climb up there with them.
Okay… now what?
There’s at least ten feet between me and the shore. I’ll never be able to jump that far, and I’m pretty sure if I try to wade through the tar, I’ll just end up getting stuck.
The bones!
I turn my attention to the ribs of the dead giant. They’re positioned in such a way that they form a sort of bridge to dry ground. It looks precarious, but it’s my only option, and I’m rapidly running out of time.
I tuck Gerber under one arm, the bag under the other, and prepare to take the first step…
Nope.
It immediately becomes obvious that this isn’t going to work. Way too difficult to balance without my hands free. But I can’t leave Gerber or the bag behind.
I set the bag down and hold Gerber by his ankles.
“Sorry buddy, but I’ve gotta do this…”
I perform a couple heave-ho practice swings to build momentum, then I chuck Gerber out toward the shore. His feathers flutter briefly as his body arcs through the air. He hits the ground with a soft thump, sending up a poof of gray dust.
Hopefully that didn’t damage him even more.
I toss the bag next. It lands right beside Gerber.
Now it’s my turn.
Tar spills over the lip of the door and starts oozing inside. The pod starts sinking even faster. It’s now or never.
I take a deep breath to steady my nerves, then I step off the roof and onto the first rib.
It immediately starts sinking.
I don’t think, I just react, stepping onto the next rib, and the next, letting my momentum carry me forward in a series of quick steps. The bones sink beneath me, but they’re still able to support my weight for a few seconds apiece. As I reach the last one, I push off hard and dive for the shore…
…and land belly-first on the hard, ash-covered ground. It hurts like a bitch, but the pain brings a smile to my face because it means I’m alive.
I roll onto my butt and watch as the pod slowly disappears beneath the tar. Then I stand up and try to brush away the ashes. It doesn’t do much good. My concubine outfit is pretty much ruined.
Big deal. Right now, my appearance is the least of my worries.
I need to find help, ASAP.
Turning in a circle, I slowly scan my eyes across the forbidding landscape.
I don’t see any other escape pods around…
or much of anything else, for that matter.
But I do see smoke in the distance. Big, black plumes of it lifting up from the horizon.
I can only assume that’s where the ship went down.
If other women survived, maybe some of them would have the same idea and congregate near the crash site? It’s not a great plan, but right now, it’s all I’ve got. I pick the pack up off the ground and loop the strap over one shoulder.
Then I pick up my broken cherub, brush him off, and together we set off toward the horizon.