By Michael Erasmus
“Now, Vanguards, go forth!”
That was the last human voice Vincent had heard. Well, other than his own; he’d been talking to himself for a few days. Or… weeks? He wasn’t sure. The twin suns of Vita Centauri muddled his sense of time.
“If only the others were here.” He shook his head and scolded himself. “No, they are here!” Drone scans had revealed only plant and insect life, atmospheric tests had proven the air breathable, and the unearthly lightning that frequented the stratosphere didn’t appear to plague the troposphere as bad. The only potential dangers were poisonous foods, undrinkable water, and unknown bacteria, which is what the Vanguards had come to test. “If I survived the drop, so did they. I just need to find them.”
He sighed and knelt beside the bubbling stream. Effervescence danced from the crystalline stones at the bottom, popping when they touched the surface. It reminded him of that drink back home. What was it called?
“Coca-Cola,” he told himself. “And the popping sound is like Rice Krispies. Oh, and the color! It looks like that stuff Gran used to make—pink lemonade.”
He dipped his hands into the stream. Even through his gauntlets, warmth massaged his flesh. “I wonder how it tastes. I may have to try when I’m out of NutriTubes.” He swished his hand through the liquid, resisting the urge to quench his dry throat. “Kendra’s meant to test it.” He smiled. “I bet she loves this planet.”
Steam from the warm liquid blurred his vision, bringing memories of another fog—black clouds pulsing with green lightning.
“Vanguards, your frontier is destiny, your quest discovery. You are to see if humanity can make Vita Centauri our home. You are pioneers of a new age.” The commander’s speech had come as Vincent had stared through the shuttle’s open doors at the storm below. “Brave the storm, rappel into darkness, and shed humanity’s light on the unknown. Now, Vanguards, go forth!”
To his left and right, his comrades had stepped forward, dropping from their shuttle. If only he’d known that the electric tempest would fry their comms and separate them. If only he’d known that one, simple step would leave him lost and alone on this strange planet.
As he remembered that fateful fall, he shivered. Wind had howled around his head, drowning out his scream. Thunder had vibrated his armor as brilliant flashes burned his eyes. Then he’d passed the storm and pulled his parachute, dropping through the night sky with fine droplets of alien rain. He’d crashed through tree branches, tearing his chute and cracking his helmet’s visor before hitting the ground. He’d lain there panting, aching, helmet cast aside, until dawn chased the storm away.
He pushed away from the stream, from the memory. “Why hasn’t help come from the ship?” The panic from days of waiting and searching returned.
He took a long breath, forcing himself to calm. Deep inside, hope still lingered. “I have to find them.”
He snatched his Armadillo pack off the gray soil and clipped it to the flanks of his cuirass, securing it to his back. Then he continued his long, aimless trek through the unknown.
He passed under the shade of towering trees. Their trunks spiraled like licorice twists, blue as midnight, and their smooth bark served as a highway for tiny, four-legged creatures that reminded him of ants. The yellow creatures used their pincers to carry sap from the scaly, orange leaves that soaked up the sun’s light. At night, Vincent had learned, the leaves would glow bright as lamps, and butterflies with purple, luminous veins pulsing in transparent wings would flutter around them. A huge moon would catch the light from the suns and outshine the stars.
“Hmm, licorice.” He ran his fingers across a tree he passed. “I miss Earth food. And, you know, Earth.” He rounded the next tree, ducking under a root that arched away from him. “I bet those ants taste like roast—”
A glint caught his eye.
He paused. A form lay in the rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves of a nearby tree. It looked like…
He squinted.
Like…
“No, no, no!” He sprinted to the form and dropped to his hands and knees. A Vanguard lay on its side, facing away from him.
Vincent turned the body over and gasped.
Shane’s eyes stared at him through a shattered visor. A stick protruded from the Vanguard’s chest.
Vincent shook his comrade. “Shane, no!”
It was pointless. Shane’s gaze was unblinking, cold, lifeless.
Vincent’s eyes stung, and his hands trembled. Then he saw another body, ten meters away, face down in the gray soil.
Vincent ran to the corpse, rolled it. Another shattered visor, another lifeless gaze—this time Kendra’s grass-green irises.
“No,” Vincent moaned. “Not you.”
A stick, like the one in Shane, protruded from her ribs. Frowning, he gripped the dark blue wood and yanked it out, gagging at the sickening sound. He studied the tip, crimson-stained and…
His skin crawled. Anxiety squeezed his heart.
…and metallic.
“It’s a weapon,” he whispered. “But… they said there’s no intelligent life. They said Vita Centauri was safe. They lied.”
The stick slipped from Vincent’s grasp. He recalled the commander’s speech—passionate words that drove brave Vanguards to their deaths. “Then they didn’t even come for us. Why?”
As he watched Kendra’s eyes, now void of their captivating jade sheen, a scary thought creeped into his mind. “What if they used us as bait, not to test if we could survive here but if we’d be allowed to?”
The more he thought of it, the more it made sense that their mission was a lie, an experiment. “That’s why—”
A long, clear tone pierced the air, whistling through the forest and sending shivers down his spine. The eerie sound bore familiarity. “It’s a trumpet.” He cursed, scanning the trees. “The sound of war.”
Perhaps Vita Centauri wasn’t so different from Earth after all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wow! Got me at the end…I want to know more!
Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that ending! :o awesome job, Michael!!
I thought Candyland was a place I’d like to visit… until the end.
I’m getting serious Martian vibes from this. Love it! (I need to know what happens next!!! HE BETTER SURVIVE THIS).