Chapter 10: Daily Grind (Part 2)

They gathered their supplies and samples in relative silence, then followed Hinelin out of the forest in a single file. Giddeon brought up the rear. Back at camp, a few exhaled sighs of relief—the day had come and gone without incident. As pent-up worries faded, someone cracked a joke about the equipment, and a few weary laughs broke the silence.

The showers were inconveniently located a ten-minute walk to the north side of camp, where a river ran from the mountains down into the lake. Tests showed the river was clean—purer, even, than the springs on Earth Two. Whatever was polluting the water came from the lake.

Several small stalls were set up as shower centers. Mechanical wheels on their backside drew river water into solar heated containers. As Giddeon stepped inside one and removed his clothes, the water pressure was weak and only slightly warm, but it relaxed him, ridding his skin of the sweat and grime from the forest.

Dinner was a simple meal of pork and rice sautéed in a sweet sauce. Most of the crew complained about the fare, especially Eddington, but Giddeon quite liked it. The food was a heck of a lot better than eating rats or mutated animals.

Finishing quickly, he made his way to the medical pavilion to visit Uzari. Inside, he caught her pacing the tent, a sight that eased his heart. After catching up for a bit, he said his goodbyes and headed back to Camp Panda. He gave Redler, who was up first for fire watch, a cursory nod as he passed her by, then entered his tent and zipped the flap shut. Since he had pulled guard duty the night before, he was free to sleep until dawn.

Lying on his cot, he stared at the ceiling. “I’d best turn off the wall holo,” he murmured to himself, a chuckle escaping him as he remembered Uzari. His thoughts began to drift, and his eyelids drooped closed.

“I got what you wanted,” Johnny said loudly, instantly jolting him awake.

Giddeon opened his eyes, clearing the sleep from his throat as he blinked rapidly inside the dark enclosure. “Show me,” he rasped.

His UI sparked to life, pulling up his character sheet. His stats were still flat tens across the board. Then the numbers flickered, bleeding into static before solidifying into a row of higher digits.

“I see you took the liberty of filling out some sections,” Giddeon commented dryly, his eyes narrowing at the glowing text.

“Only what I observed. It’ll improve as your AIGES and I gather more information. Think of it as a dual effort.”

“How is the AIGES filling it in?”

“It compares you to others—your reactions, how hard you hit things, how fast you run, what skills you display. The usual metrics.”

“And where do you come in?”

“I’m not a machine. I can adjust things more realistically, especially your Strengths and Weaknesses.”

Giddeon squinted at his sheet. “Why’s my Luck eleven?”

“Because you’ve done some pretty dumb stuff,” Johnny said. “I told you to run; instead, you jump in front of a demon cat about to barbeque your girlfriend. Not to mention almost getting caught by that Raylin chick when you decided to be funny by playing music—witty as it was—when they found Graks’ holo.”

“That was you.”

“Semantics!” Johnny exclaimed. “You’ve still been pretty lucky. Calming a geklu, shooting a hell beast through its gullet, escaping the claws of Ereos…most would be dead thrice over by now.”

“It wasn’t just luck. Eddington clued me in.”

“And I will take that into consideration,” Johnny said clinically, “along with contemplating lowering your Intelligence score.”

“Why’s my Olfactory Sense twelve?”

“When you guys were on the descent ship—remember Eddington?”

“What about him?”

“I know you smelled that. I saw the look you gave him. Kilner said rotten tomatoes, but you knew it was those P&P’s he kept popping. Everyone else was baffled, but you knew.”

“Fine, I knew,” Giddeon admitted. “Back to important things. I think we need a course on what stats actually reference.” He scanned his numbers. “These are meaningless without real-life correlations.”

“You want a lesson in stats?” Johnny asked. “Sure, I’ll start with a broad overview, then we can delve deeper.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Clearly, you are not,” Johnny replied. “You have a torso, arms, legs, a head—though you use the latter rarely.”

“It’s a human expression. Just go on.”

“As I was saying before you mentioned a physiological impossibility…the number ten represents a completely average human. More precisely, using the data of millions of test subjects, it represents what the average person is capable of. Under ten represents a deficiency; anything higher means you exceed the norm.”

“Give me examples.”

“Let’s say the average human can do seventeen pushups.”

“Is that accurate?” Giddeon interrupted.

“Depending on age and sex, overall, yes. That’s what the AIGES tells me. Can I continue now?”

“Yes.”

“So, ten would represent seventeen pushups. Someone with eleven Strength might do around twenty-two, twelve might do twenty-seven, and so on. The exact number won’t be perfect, but it will be within a specified margin of error. In this case, within increments of five.”

“So, someone with twenty Strength could do around sixty-five pushups?”

“Exactly.”

“That tracks,” Giddeon said. “I can do seventy in a full set.”

“It’s compiled data; of course it tracks.”

“How does Speed work, then?”

“Simple,” Johnny said. “The average person can run a hundred meters in seventeen seconds. The system doesn’t differentiate between age or sexes; it just clumps humans into one entity. Each point of Speed above ten lowers this by half a second.”

“Meaning with my twenty, I can run a hundred meters in twelve seconds. Okay, so it makes sense, except for my ‘Strengths and Weaknesses sections.”

“What do you mean?”

“Really? You’re programmed to play dumb as well? Uzari’s not my weakness.”

“You put your life in danger for her,” Johnny countered. “You become tongue-tied and nervous around her, but not with anyone else. Basically, your charisma drops by her mere presence. I’d call that a weakness.”

“You’ve got it mixed up,” Giddeon replied. “She’s one of my strengths.”

“How?”

“If you remain active long enough before I figure out how to fix your loose circuit, you might find out.”

A rustling noise came from outside—someone was leaving their tent, perhaps for a late-night bathroom run.

We’ll talk more tomorrow. I need sleep.

“I’m still curious how you could possibly think Uzari’s a strength,” Johnny replied. “But I’ll compartmentalize myself for now. Sweet dreams, partner.”

The next morning, a new member joined them. More precisely, a member who was supposed to be there from the beginning finally showed up.

“Everyone, this is Graks Bevelin,” Vessa announced during the morning meeting. “Graks ate some bad fruit from the forest and was confined to the medical pavilion for a couple of days. Please, introduce yourselves.”

The crew took turns speaking up. Graks went last, simply stating, “I’m Graks,” with all the charisma of a rock.

“He certainly earned that eight score,” Johnny remarked.

What do you expect from a thug?

“At least a nine,” Johnny replied. “No one else here has below a ten, not even Eddington.”

Giddeon checked Graks’ other stats; the man’s Strength and Endurance were both 27—well above most male Aiges—perhaps even the highest in the whole outpost. His Intelligence and Charisma were bottom-tier, with his Intelligence sitting at a meager nine.

I’m curious why he’s really here, Giddeon mused. Could he actually be working for Vibane, and I had it all wrong, or is he here for the Asp organization?

“Hmm, based on your memories, I’d wager he’s here to find out if there are resources to mass-produce drugs,” Johnny surmised. “He might even be scouting for inhabitants to enslave.”

Too bad that fruit didn’t kill him.

“I agree.”

The day went fast. They traveled to a new quadrant further into the forest, but the work was more of the same: digging, scraping, and packaging. For Giddeon and Hinelin, it was guard duty. Though neither got down into the dirt, holding a rifle all day long was still tiring work. As the team ventured deeper into other sections over the following days, the work remained tough, if a bit monotonous.

Graks kept mostly to himself. He was highly abrasive to everyone and frequently made crude remarks about Vessa or Oomah’s appearance. On the fifth day, Giddeon finally intervened as Oomah grew visibly distraught by the man’s constant catcalls.

“Best not to bother the ladies while they’re working, friend,” Giddeon said with a cool demeanor as he stood nearby.

Graks turned from Oomah—who had just cursed him out—to glare at Giddeon. A wicked smile suddenly lit up his face. “I’m not bothering anyone,” he declared with a cocksure grin. “She just hasn’t realized how much she’s into me yet.”

“The lady asked you to stop. Several times,” Giddeon replied. “Stop, before it goes any further.”

Graks swaggered up to Giddeon, eyeing him up and down. “Let’s get a couple of things straight, pipsqueak. First, you’re not my friend. Second, I decide how far things go. Got it?”

Graks collapsed to one knee as Hinelin slammed his boot into the back of the man’s joint. In the same motion, the team leader seized the back of his neck and left wrist, wrenching Graks’ arm behind his back and forcing him down.

“He was calling you friend just to be polite,” Hinelin hissed in his ear.

The large man growled, trying to swing around, but Hinelin held tight, pushing forward until the thug’s face was mere inches from the dirt.

“I’ve dealt with plenty of maggots like you,” Hinelin said through clenched teeth. “Normally, I’d just put a bullet through your head, but I’m going to be civil. I’ve listened to your crap for days. It stops. Now.”

Releasing him, Hinelin delivered a kick to his backside that sent him rolling. Graks scrambled to his feet, rubbing his wrist while glaring at the team leader with eyes that promised only murder.

Hinelin simply patted his rifle. “I’ve seen that look before. Two choices. One: shut up, do your work, and go home in a month. Two: end up as a report I have to write. If you plan on attacking me when you think I’m unaware, be my guest. I could use the excuse to blow your brains out. Understood?”

Graks continued to glare, his jaw set in a silent snarl.

“I said do you understand me, maggot?”

The man slowly nodded, hands clenched so tight by his sides his knuckles went pure white. “Yes,” he spat.

“Good.” Hinelin threw an axe at his feet. The heavy head thudded into the dirt a foot from the thug’s boot. “Go cut some bark from those trees over there.” He nodded to a point outside their designated area. “You won’t be the first person I gave a weapon to who wanted to kill me. I’d tell you to ask them how that turned out, but they’re all in the ground.”

Graks stood frozen a moment, breathing heavily as he struggled to contain his rage before snatching up the axe. Whirling, he fumed off toward the trees.

That was the day Hinelin earned the respect of everyone, including Giddeon.

On the sixth day, Uzari was officially cleared to return. She arrived at Camp Panda just after sunrise, limping slightly but in good spirits.

Graks stood near the fire as she finished hugging Oomah. “Well, hello there, hot stuff,” he said, his tone carrying its typical greasy edge. “I’m Graks.”

She let go of Oomah, turning to face him squarely. “Uzari,” she replied curtly.

The man stared, his gaze lingering uncomfortably long on her more alluring features. “I look forward to getting to know you,” he said with a lascivious grin.

Giddeon stepped toward them but paused as Uzari gave Graks a deadpan stare. “I’m here to do a job,” she told the man coldly. “Let’s keep things professional.”

She immediately turned her back on him to greet Redler.

“Does she know he’s an Asp?” Johnny asked.

Uzari’s highly intelligent. She might, though people from Earth Two tend to be more innocent to this kind of stuff. I’ll warn her later, just in case.

Hinelin began the meeting once the welcoming died down. “Today marks a full week since we landed. We’re ahead of schedule, in large part due to your hard work, so I want to personally thank each of you.”

Vessa clapped, prompting a round of applause.

“That being said, nothing’s changed,” Hinelin continued. “Once we receive the all-clear signal, we’ll head in. By next week we should be through the western quadrants. Then it’s north, into the unmapped territory.”

Eddington’s hand went up.

Hinelin shook his head. “Eddington, you don’t have to—never mind. Yes, Eddington?”

“Why don’t we have data on that area?”

“Good question.” Hinelin turned. “Vessa?”

The woman stepped forward, presenting a dazzling smile. “Before we left the ship, Vibane briefed me on the unmapped zone,” she began. “That area is—”

“Why you?” Kilner interrupted.

Vessa paused, her smile wavering. “Because I’m the only person here with degrees in Geoscience, Meteorology, and Natural Sciences, with a minor in rare earth phenomena.”

“What did she just say?” Graks muttered, looking around.

“She studies the movements of planets and their atmospheres,” Uzari replied. “I’m not sure about the last one.”

“It might be easier if I explain the unmapped zone first,” Vessa said. “That particular location has the strongest anti-technological pushback of any area Vibane has discovered. Whenever a satellite so much as targets that zone, it’s instantly rendered dead. No delay.”

“How many seconds does it take for a signal to bounce back?” Orion asked.

“Seconds?” Vessa chuckled. “Try milliseconds.”

Several of the crew gasped. Giddeon and Uzari glanced at one another.

That’s way faster than the nine second rule.

“I don’t recall an area like that,” Johnny replied. “But then again, no technology may have existed for me to notice this effect.”

“Inert, as in the satellite is affected all the way up in space?” Kilner clarified.

Vessa nodded. “Yes. Over the past seven years, they’ve attempted three thousand scans with twenty separate satellites. Same result every time. No other area exhibits this phenomenon. My main mission is to determine what the root cause is.”

“Any guesses?” Uzari asked.

“An undiscovered element? A localized universal law specific to this planet? Advanced alien technology?” Vessa shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Are we all going…into that zone?” Eddington asked quietly.

“The forward scouting team will go in first,” she replied. “Followed by me and a few others with related expertise. No one else will enter until we’ve confirmed it’s completely safe. Everyone has done a splendid job so far, especially after our…unfortunate early encounter. I’m certain we’ll be fine from here on out, provided we keep up the good work.”

“Bravo!” Multiple hands clapped inside Giddeon’s head as Johnny mockingly congratulated her. “Bravo! Splendid speech!”

Even her words are damage control. She’s Vibane owned, a hundred percent.

“Do you think she’s really here to investigate, though?” Johnny asked.

I don’t think she’s lying about that. I just don’t think she’s telling us everything.

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Johnny replied. “Which would be your eyes.”

What’s the point, then?

“Interestingly enough, while my joke was funny—and immensely witty—there’s some truth to what I said. Sometimes you see things that you don’t realize you’ve seen.”

Like?

“An example works best.”

Suddenly, Giddeon’s UI flashed, playing a video file directly from his own point of view. He was back on the ship, taking the speed and endurance tests, jogging next to Uzari in her black, form-fitting suit. Just as he remembered, the rhythmic bounce of her chest worked in tandem with her long legs as they pounded across the rotating rubber belt.

Then, Johnny’s hidden weapon recognition program kicked in, filtering out the fabric layers of her uniform. The viewpoint suddenly zoomed in on the bare skin just above her sports bra.

What are you doing?

“There—see that small freckle on her right breast?” Johnny asked. “Your eyes unconsciously caught it, but your brain didn’t have time to register it in the moment. Your AIGES records everything; I just review the details you missed.”

“Are you alright?” Uzari whispered, nudging him as Vessa’s voice droned in the background. “You look flushed.”

“I’m…alright. I’m just…seeing freckles. I mean right breast…er…it’s a little hot out, to be honest.”

Turn it off!

“You got it, partner!”

The screen flickered off. Giddeon found himself staring at Uzari, her lips pursed and eyes piercing straight through him. He was in trouble. Her head slowly tilted, eyes narrowing. He was really in trouble.

“X-ray vision?” she whispered in a huff. “Again?” Her arms crossed over her chest, as if shielding them from his intrusive gaze.

Giddeon’s mouth opened, then closed. Nothing came out.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling dangerously as they pinned him in place. “Your left cheek. Later tonight, around eight. My right hand now has a date.”

“Which cheek do you think she means?” Johnny asked.

Not funny.

“Okay, the flares have gone up,” Hinelin said, his eyes peering over the forest where a shower of orange sparkles exploded. “Our quadrant’s clear. Let’s go.”

Uzari brushed Giddeon off as he tried walking beside her. Tilting her chin up, she hurried ahead to grab Oomah’s arm before strutting off with the nurse.

Giddeon sighed. “Good job, Johnny,” he muttered under his breath.

“No problem, partner. The devil’s in the details, I always say.”

The day was more of the same, as were the next seven days. Jump scares happened here and there—a plant with eyes that leaped onto its root-like legs and walked about, tiny bugs with two heads and five legs crawling in the soil, and miniature monkeys with prehensile tails that hung near the canopy, watching them as they worked. By the end of the week, most of the crew began to open up, occasionally mentioning a tidbit from their personal lives. Others like Graks, Redler, and Kilner remained contentious. Everyone avoided Graks, who couldn’t start a sentence without the word “I.” Redler complained about everything from the food to the work to the weather, and Kilner managed to mock even the way people breathed.

On their thirteenth day, their assigned quadrant bordered the Crater, giving them all a glimpse of it for the first time. The transition from forest to wasteland was striking; the trees simply stopped, giving way to barren rock. Half a mile in, small hills and rock walls blocked passage deeper into the zone. Narrow fissures cut between the stone walls, allowing access to whatever lay beyond. Though the forest possessed a thick canopy which layered it in shadows, the Crater was somehow darker. It was also deathly quiet, completely swallowing the woods’ ever-present buzz.

Giddeon stared at the dead expanse, slowly tapping the side of his rifle.

“What do you think?” Vessa asked as she joined him at the tree line.

“It looks dead,” he replied, pointing down at the clear-cut line separating the two areas. “Nothing grows past that line. Life stops here; a step away, death begins.”

“You and I are of the same mind,” she replied. “Something happened on a grand scale. The shape is highly unusual—it’s almost a perfect circle if the curve keeps going at that angle.” She gestured toward the fissures, tracing the curving line with her finger. “Just guessing from how wide the radius is, this dead section covers a couple of miles.”

He turned to her, raising one eyebrow. “And Vibane has no clue what’s in there?”

Vessa presented him with her practiced, disarming smile. “You know, your stats are completely off.” She eyed him carefully as she spoke. “Is something wrong with your AIGES?”

Giddeon nodded. “I’m almost certain something’s wrong with my AIGES.”

“Hey now!” Johnny protested. “Insulting me, right in front of my face, no less!”

Can’t really do it behind your back, now can I?

Uzari appeared beside them, looking out at the Crater. “Are you guys talking about those perfectly shaped lines over there?”

“You noticed too?” Vessa murmured.

Uzari nodded. “Some plants and fungi form natural rings, and trees have growth rings when cut open, but I’ve never seen a naturally occurring wasteland ring. Before anyone goes in, I suggest we test the area for radiation and chemical contamination. I hypothesized a toxic plant might be killing everything off, but look—there isn’t even a dead stump out there.”

“Good thinking,” Vessa acknowledged. “We did bring down some old testing equipment, just in case. I’ll pass your suggestion to Hinelin for the team leaders to discuss.”

“Alright, everyone, time to pack up!” Hinelin called out, despite the sun still sitting high in the sky. The trek back to camp would take them at least three hours with how far in they were.

“Well, we’ll see what this is all about tomorrow,” Giddeon murmured, grabbing his pack. “This was our last quadrant to explore on the map. Nothing’s left but the unknown out there.”

“Let’s just hope it’s as uneventful as it’s been the past week,” Uzari remarked.

“Let’s hope,” Vessa seconded.

Giddeon glanced back at the Crater one last time as everyone turned to leave. For the first time since he’d landed on Enivia, an overwhelming premonition gripped him—they might not reach the unmarked territory tomorrow. Some of them never would.