The Battle for Eden. Mark E. Burgess
Her papa had survived a Crab invasion on another planet, so he had taught Sarah just about all there was to know about the aliens to date. Even if he hadn’t, the government on Eden made sure that everyone was educated in the basics of survival. That included recognition of friendly versus enemy craft, from space landers to fighters to ground transports. The entire planet was now on a state of alert with news of an impending invasion. So far the reports from SpaceForce were spotty, but latest word had it that at least some of the Knacker invaders would likely make it through to the planet. That was one reason her family was stocking up on supplies at this very moment.
Sarah raised the scope again and examined the object in the sky. Knacker, no, but it did appear to be a spacecraft. Now that her fear had retreated, curiosity kicked in, and her eager eyes took in every detail that the scope could provide. The unknown vessel was spewing a dark contrail that became more evident as it approached. She frowned; the ship might be in trouble. She didn’t think it should be producing smoke like that.
It appeared that the craft would pass to the west of her home, and it was losing altitude quickly. But as it neared, it seemed to be slowing, its nose coming up and its descent leveling out. Sarah could now see it quite clearly without the scope, a sleek tapered shape that gleamed metallic in the sun. Not large, maybe twice the size of a private floater. A faint rushing sound came to her ears as the ship passed within a quarter kilometer of where she stood. There was no growl of engines at all, which she thought was odd. All flying craft made noise, didn’t they?
The vessel seemed to be heading straight for a low prominence just to their south. “They’d better watch it or they won’t clear Roxy Knoll,” Sarah whispered under her breath. She bit her lip as the ship dropped, dropped, and it seemed destined to plow into the side of the hill. But it pulled up slightly at the last second, and clipped off the tips of two Ironwood trees before disappearing over the top of the rise.
Moments later a distant rumbling came to her ears, and it continued for a handful of seconds before falling silent. Sarah stood staring numbly at the point where the ship had vanished from her sight. That noise had sounded like a crash. From what she had seen, the craft hadn’t looked like it was intended to land on the ground. In that case the pilot might have tried a controlled slide, assuming a patch of flat earth could be found. And there was plenty of that around, including on the other side of Roxy. The acreage there was still on the homestead property, just barely.
Sarah hesitated, fists clenched in indecision. Then she whirled and ran toward the equipment shed. Moments later she was skimming across the fields in a floater-tractor, aiming for the notch between Roxy Knoll and the west hills. The low ground there was a kilometer-long deep ravine, cut by a small meandering creek and thick with tree cover. The locals knew it as Dark Hollow.
She found the outflow point of Byre’s Creek and eased into the hollow. Her floater made no distinction of traversing land or water, allowing her to follow the stream’s twisting path between the forested hills. Almost immediately the vegetation crowded in on both sides, and she was swallowed in a twilight gloom. It was markedly cooler in here than out on the grasslands. The sun peeked down between the hilltops for only an hour or two each day, and even then was filtered through the heavy canopy. Venerable Ironwood trees, for which the region was famous, reared their naked lavender trunks, streaked with black, hundreds of meters into the sky, with feathery tufts of emerald vegetation exploding outward at their tops like giant ferns. Their massive gnarled roots were covered with small moisture-loving plants resembling bluish sea anemones. Rustles and chitters of unseen wildlife emanated from the deep shadows around her, falling silent as her vehicle approached, then resuming their secret livelihoods when she had passed. Once she heard the deep haunting cry of a Glimmer Owl echoing from far back in the forest.
Sarah had always found Dark Hollow’s eerie beauty captivating, but today her attention was focused solely on the task at hand. While the floater’s bulk made it ideal for towing and hauling, it was not intended for exploration, and she encountered several tight spaces where fallen trees crisscrossed the water. Add to that the fact that floaters could achieve a maximum height of only a few meters above ground level, and it made for tricky maneuvering. But Sarah was an experienced hand with all the heavy equipment on the farm, and she eventually made it through to the other side of the hollow without incident.
Once out on the flats beyond Roxy Knoll, she grabbed her farscope and scanned the countryside. After a few moments she stopped and focused. There, about a kilometer to the southwest, was a long straight line that she couldn’t recall having seen in the past. By her estimation it stretched for hundreds of meters; it could easily be a landing scar. She quickly followed the strip to its termination, and there she caught the glint of something reflecting the late afternoon sun.
She put her scope away, and checked the sidearm she had donned before leaving the house. Its energy charge showed full. Sarah hoped she would have no need of it this day, but she had been taught to never take chances. Slapping it back on her waist, safety off, she gunned the floater toward the distant ship.
A ripple in the land caused her to lose sight of her goal as she got closer, and the floater ended up intersecting the landing stripe close to its midpoint. She turned right and followed it. The channel cut into the earth by the ship was at least two meters deep, and easily wide enough to accommodate two floaters. Raw soil had been thrown up on each bank, and she could swear that she saw wisps of smoke or steam rising here and there.
Even proceeding at a cautious pace, it was only a minute or two before she saw it: a silver arrowhead buried nose-deep into the massive dirt pile that it had plowed before it. The left rear section of the craft was blackened and fused as if something had actually melted the hull. The gaping hole was pretty impressive, too.
The clear canopy on top sat open, and there was a human figure standing next to the ship, also dressed in silver. Her pulse pounding in her ears, she eased her vehicle closer, and the pilot made no threatening move. When she got to within shouting distance, she stopped the floater and slowly dismounted.
“Hello,” she called out tentatively. “I saw your ship coming down. Do you need help?”
The figure was facing her, but it wore what appeared to be a heavy flight suit with helmet, and she could see nothing but reflection in the visor. After a tense few heartbeats, the pilot reached up and did something at the neck, and then pulled the helmet up and off.
The person inside was male, and he was quite handsome in a rough-hewn way. His face was long and rangy, like his build, but his strong jaw line and straight nose gave his features an appealing symmetry. He had a full head of dark brown, almost black, hair, though it was currently plastered to his skull from the combined effects of helmet and sweat. Yes, if you took away the stubble on his face and the haggard look of fatigue he currently wore, Sarah thought he would make a decent catch. Not for her, of course—he was way too old, must be at least thirty if he was a day. But her aunt, for instance....
Then he smiled, and said in a deep masculine voice, “Hi there. I’m sorry for the intrusion. As you can probably tell, I didn’t have much choice.”
Sarah smiled back, relaxing a bit. Over the years she had learned to trust her instincts about people, and this person didn’t have a bad feel to him. His expression was open and honest, though his eyes...his eyes seemed older than the rest of him, somehow.
She walked slowly toward him, keeping her right hand casually near her hip just in case. Not casually enough, apparently, because she saw those deep-set eyes dart briefly to her weapon before coming back to her face. A hint of amusement crossed his features, and she felt herself blushing. Never mind; if he wanted to think she was a scared civvy, then that was his right. She was not going to let herself get careless.
“Who are you?” she asked when they were only a few strides apart.
Now the pilot looked abashed, and replied, “My apologies, ma’am. I am truly forgetting protocol. I’m Major Simon Roy of SpaceForce, Alpha Squadron, 2nd Fighter Division, under the command of Colonel Hastings, currently assigned to Eden Task Force. And may I ask your name?”
“Sarah McKinley, sir,” she replied formally.
Simon