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A buzz of
returning consciousness lit fireworks behind his eyelids. Teralta opened
his eyes to brilliant blue sky and a white hot ball of solar fire that
seared his optical nerves from eyeballs to the brain. He ejaculated an
exasperated cry of frustration and pain that emerged as a raspy croak and brought his forearm up over his face as a shield. Slowly, the world came
into focus as his vision adjusted to the light.
Gingerly, he tried sitting up. Immediately, a wave of nausea
flooded over him. With a small sigh, he rolled slightly, going horizontal
onto his left side, and then retched the entire contents of his stomach
onto the pristine sand. With a low gurgling growl, he heaved again and
then yet again until he convulsed dryly to no avail. Nothing left to eject.
His senses were a jumble. He could hear myriad noises in
mid-frequency range from ground level and higher in the foliage meant
indigenous life. He would not go hungry. A momentary image of food flashed
his mind subliminally,
causing him to retch three or four more times. Frustrated at the
discomfort, he kicked wildly at the sand on which he lay.
Finally, the aftereffects of his blackout subsided. He
inhaled a precautionary breath and once more sat up - more slowly, more
deliberately, wanting no repeat of his illness. This time it worked. He
began to survey his surroundings.
He was on a beach, that much was evident. A lagoon stretched
in a rough semicircle in two directions, its surface smooth for a short
distance offshore, than much rougher beyond a subsurface barrier of a
sort. The sand ran slightly uphill to a foliage line beyond which things
got tangled and
dark in no distance at all.
Near to where he sat recuperating were strewn several bodies
in varied stages of disassembly. Blood stained the glittering silica, only
partially washed away by the gentle wave action where the water met the
sand. It was all very fuzzy to him. Teralta said aloud just above a
whisper, "This can't be right. This cannot be right."
But nothing changed or melted away or faded from view as his
training simulations had.. things were still pretty hazy. One thing was
for certain though, he absolutely positively knew that he wasn't
supposed to be here.
Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he managed to stand,
shakily at first, then more firmly. It was starting to come back to him.
There had been a storm. His ship. . . his ship had been disabled. An image
of his ship disappearing beneath rolling waves flashed through his mind
accompanied by a psychic thunderclap. He'd had to swim for the shore. Then
THEY came, waving arms and shouting in the driving rain. He couldn't
understand what they were saying, but it had been fortunate they happened
along because he'd been so very
hungry from the long swim. So he killed them - killed them all. His memory
was beginning to clear. He killed them all with his sideblade and eaten
his fill.
Teralta frowned at the memory as he fumbled at the catch to
the kit attached to his belt. The pouch sprang open. He fetched forth a
shiny silver object and depressed the glowing red gem in the center. The
device beeped twice, then reported, "Emergency beacon
activated."
He turned the object over and pressed a yellow gem.
"Recording." Said a bland metallic voice.
"Note for exploration parties to follow." Teralta
said speaking plainly for the first time. "The atmosphere of this
planet is heavily electrically charged, easily enough to knock down a
ship. Atmosphere's breathable though, water seems abundant."
He paused, then glanced at the bodies decaying in the
relentless sun.
"Whatever you do though," he added thoughtfully,
"stay away from the native food. It'll kill ya."
He smiled at this little joke, since he obviously wasn't
dead. He would just have to subsist on fauna until the rescue ship
arrived. That brought back his frown. He'd lost his ship and on a
quarantined world too. There would be questions, repercussions - and
that would not be pleasant. Still, it would
be weeks before relief came. Time enough.
As he pondered that thought, a group of screaming screaming
natives burst out from the tree line, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Teralta unsnapped his sideblade and broke once more into a grin. He loved
this planet, where dinner delivered itself right to where a fellow stood,
but there would sure be a lot of indigestion afterward.
He stepped forward to meet them.
(c) 2002 by Bob Liddil.
All Rights Reserved
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