Displaced E-Book

Stephen Drake

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When Kevin Murdock, martial artist and outdoorsman extraordinaire, is revived from suspended animation aboard a transport pod, he and his nine fellow occupants have no idea what to expect.

Murdock argues for caution after seeing something strange: animals also inhabit their new environment, all of them larger than their Earthly counterparts. Conflict soon erupts between Murdock and James Whittier - a politician with a lust for power and control.

But soon, they all realize that there's something even more dangerous onboard... something that might cost them all their lives.

Leseprobe

DISPLACED

STEPHEN DRAKE

CONTENTS

The Displaced Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Next in the Series

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2014 Stephen Drake

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Edited by Lorna Read

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

The Displaced Series

Displaced

Civilization

Resolutions

Dedicated to Linda and Susan; for without their help and support, this work would not have been possible.

A special thanks to Karen Gray, Kate Watts, K.J. Simmill, and Alex Grove for all your suggestions, help, and for taking the time in their busy lives to read my work.

1

Murdock’s awareness was such that he knew he was sleeping. “Murdock. Wake up,” he heard a soft, clear, contralto voice beckoning him. Or was he dreaming it? He couldn’t place the voice and it sounded distant, irresistible.

“Kevin Murdock! Wake up!”

As Murdock began to wake, he found his brain to be fuzzy and his thoughts seemed slow. Where was he? He tried, but failed, to open his eyes; the lids were stuck together. Then he tried to raise his hand to rub them and found his arm unexpectedly heavy and weak.

The voice seemed to be everywhere. He felt cocooned in it. He heard no other noises. No humming, clicking, or buzzing. He felt encased in a thick blanket that blocked all extraneous sounds. Only the voice remained. After a few seconds, he tried to get to his feet, despite being blind and lost in his surroundings.

It took several attempts before Murdock struggled to his feet and kept his balance. He touched his chest and felt something smooth and clingy against his skin. Sliding his hand down to his thigh, he found that it covered him from neck to at least his legs.

“Whe—” His voiced cracked. His throat was dry and scratchy. With great difficulty, he managed a small swallow. “Where am I? What’s going on?” he croaked, more to himself than to anyone in particular. To him, his voice sounded thin and weak.

“To your left is a basin to wash your face,” the room-filling voice instructed.

He stumbled to the basin, and water began running. Murdock dipped the water out in his hands and started to clean his face and eyes. He found he now had quite a long beard. He ran his wet hands through his hair, which was quite long, longer than he normally kept it. He held on to the sides of the basin, his head lowered and eyes closed, attempting to organize his thoughts. He did manage to lubricate his throat with a few handfuls of water.

“A towel is located to your right.”

He reached out his right hand, locating the towel, and started to dry off his face. His vision was slowly clearing.

“Who are you?” Murdock asked. To him, the voice now seemed too perfect, too mechanical.

“My official designation is Transport pod TP737-1, but I will respond to ‘Ship’ or ‘Pod’.”

“You’re a computer?”

“No, I am the transport pod,” the voice corrected.

“That’s a distinction without a difference.” I’m not in the mood to argue with a damn computer, he thought. His belly was empty, and he needed coffee, badly. “Any chance for breakfast and coffee?” he asked.

“When you are ready, a meal will be waiting in the main compartment,” the ship responded.

Murdock’s vision was clearing and he could make out a small, unremarkable compartment with what looked to be a flat surgical table, with glass panels hanging below the pad. As he stepped away from the basin, it disappeared into the wall, as did the towel rack, once he replaced the used towel. He looked down and saw he was dressed in a clear jumpsuit, but he had no idea what the material was made of.

“Your clothing is located under the sleeping pad. Press your thumb to the switch-plate located on the sleeping pad frame to open the storage bin.”

Murdock complied, and a drawer opened just beneath the pad. In it, he found his buckskins sealed in plastic. He tried to figure out how the jumpsuit unfastened, but couldn’t, so he ripped it off and began to get dressed.

Once clothed, he looked around and noticed a doorway. As he started toward it, he heard a slight sigh behind him. When he turned around, he found the surgical table gone, and he stood in an empty compartment.

Through the doorway, he could see a small table and moved slowly toward it. His meal had appeared in the small wall-niche that was the food dispenser, while he slowly walked to the table. He sat in the very functional but uncomfortable chair.

He placed a bowl of thin oatmeal and a cup of weak tea on the table. The oatmeal looked neither substantial nor appetizing, but Murdock began eating. While he ate, a screen came to life showing views of the outside while an unseen male spoke…

“You are aboard a transport pod that has landed on the surface of a planet, and it will never leave. During your journey, between one hundred fifty and three hundred fifty years have elapsed on our planet, though only two to three years have elapsed for you physically. This transport pod may, or may not, be the first, but it is not the only one. Every five years, another pod will land within a twenty-mile radius of this one. Each successive pod will increase your population by a factor of ten.

“This pod’s batteries will last three hundred sixty-five, twenty-four hour days — one year, as each of you is used to, if steps are taken to preserve the energy stored in them and the solar panels are kept clear of debris.

“You were not sent here to die, but to survive, if you can. You will find, in compartments accessible from the outside, weapons, tools, and a limited supply of food.

“Trying to return to Earth is a waste of time and effort. Your old planet no longer exists. It is now our planet. Your planet, now, is the one you are on, if you can tame it. You were sent away because none of you are compatible with our requirements, but some of your progeny might be. Good luck.”

The screen went blank.

Murdock had just finished his meager meal, which turned out to be more filling than it looked, when he heard the door open. A young woman came through the door looking haggard and disoriented. He estimated her age to be about the same as his, maybe a little younger. She was nicely built, with light brown hair and wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt.

“What are you looking at and who the hell are you supposed to be?” she asked with disdain, in a deep, sultry voice.

“What do you…” Murdock started and stopped to clear his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“I haven’t seen anyone dressed like that, except in old movies. You look like some producer’s idea of Daniel Boone.”

Murdock stiffened and tried to ignore her comment. He was used to this reaction from others when he wore his buckskins.

He got up from the chair. The woman sat and began eating her meal. The screen once again came to life, repeating the message Murdock had just heard. He meandered around, studying the compartment, but could find no door or window to the outside. He longed to get out and into the fresh air.

The screen stopped and the woman got up, looking dazed and confused. Then the door opened again; this time, a large man in his forties came out, dressed in a business suit. The man ignored everyone and sat and ate. Again the message played. By this time, the idea of a generic message, to be used by all the pods, finally occurred to Murdock.

After three hours of this routine, twenty people, ten males, ten females, were crammed into the small compartment. Murdock felt quite claustrophobic. Just then, a motor started and a ramp opened. The smell of fresh, clean, outside air hit him, full force, and Murdock gladly breathed it in.

At the time the ramp opened, Murdock had been as far from the exit as was possible. As everyone moved en masse toward the ramp, his feeling of claustrophobia increased — until his feet met virgin ground. Once free of the others, he started to walk around the base of the transport.

From the outside, the pod looked a lot larger than it had on the inside. The flattened oval shape did not surprise him — the interior rooms had already hinted at the general shape of the craft.

As he walked around, Murdock took stock of the surroundings. The transport had landed in the middle of a grassy meadow fifty yards wide and one hundred yards long, by his approximation. The land appeared lush and fertile and, as far as he could make out, not swampy.

At least it isn’t a high desert environment, he thought. He could hear water running, not too far away, and an abundance of trees surrounded the meadow. The area reminded him of Western Montana, Northern Idaho, or the Cascade mountains in Washington State. The trees consisted of conifers, oak, maple, aspen, and birch. He noticed that everything was a different shade than he was used to — a bluish tint to vegetation that should be green — and no curious little creatures checked out the new arrivals.

Additionally, he heard no insects. All he could hear was a soft breeze in the trees and the running water, for he had tuned out the sounds his companions were making as they looked around and talked among themselves.

On his second trip around the transport pod, he found the storage compartments and opened them. If you want something done, do it yourself, he thought. Don’t wait for others. He began by pulling out the items, leaving them on the ground where they fell. No one else moved to help him.

As he made his way around the pod, he heard parts of conversations.

“I don’t believe a word of it!” one of the women was saying.

“I don’t know, things don’t look like I remember,” one of the males responded.

“Do you have any idea how expensive it is, transporting the numbers of people we were told are either here or will be here? I think it’s all a hoax!” another male stated.

“I think we are being watched!” another woman said in a loud whisper.

Murdock chuckled to himself. To him, it didn’t matter if it was a hoax or not. Complaining or spouting paranoid conspiracy rhetoric was a waste of time and energy. All that mattered was the here and now… and survival.

As James Whittier was being revived, he was dreaming. His father was lecturing him again.

“Most people are lazy, wanting someone to take responsibility for their needs, and will think they are giving power to those who provide them,”his father said in his dream.

He always seemed to go on incessantly. Usually, James wanted to strangle him just to shut him up. His father had been a successful political figure and had constantly lectured him about the things he had learned in what he referred to as “the hard way.”

“As long as the little people think that you have the answers, they’ll do what you tell them,” his father continued inside his head. “But as soon as they lose faith in you, head for the hills. People won’t give you anything! You have to take it from them! And you have to do so in such a manner that they think it’s their idea and to their benefit. Politicians have to be magicians, using subtle means and misdirection to get their agendas supported by the governed.”

The elder Whittier had died while James was in his second year of college. He was glad of it as that meant he was paroled from his father’s incessant lecturing. At times of stress, though, all he could hear inside his head was the endless pontificating of his father.

“People want the government to provide everything for them and to have the power to act on their behalf,” his father’s voice continued. “To have that power, you have to be part of that government. They must never know that governments get in the way, most of the time, and are never for the benefit of the governed.”

James’ father had been a true disciple in the religion of government and had wanted his son to be its acolyte.

And James had done his best to continue his father’s legacy. The first time James had been caught cheating he was six and was punished — not for cheating, but for getting caught.

“What most people call ‘truth’ is not as objective as they may think; in fact, it is very subjective,” the voice inside his head continued. “To a politician, ‘truth’ is whatever the politician says it is. Therefore, no politician lies. No such thing as a lie; facts are fluid things that can be interpreted any way that suits the needs of the moment.”

James had managed to get into a good prep school on his father’s name and even managed to letter in a couple of sports without ever playing. Some of his fellow students said that he bribed, bought, and blackmailed his way through school. They were correct, of course, but James chalked it up to jealousy that they hadn’t thought of it first. His father had said he had accomplished a few “small feats” without dishonoring their good name.

When he had first learned the name of the school he would attend, James hired a few investigators without his father’s knowledge. Their job was to find some indiscretions of the Headmaster, one Potiphar Grimsdale. Once found, his man had gone to Grimsdale with the proper inducements so that by the time James entered his office for his initial interview, he was admitted.

By the time the year was out, Grimsdale was paying him through a second party for not disclosing those indiscretions. After four years, James’ bank account was greatly enhanced, and he had several sports letters, a high grade-point-average, and many letters of recommendation to his father’s alma mater.

In college, James managed to get his degree without working too hard. The right amount of money here, a bit of pressure there, and before he knew it, he was graduated. A few weeks later, he ran for mayor of Athens, Ohio.

By the time James W. Whittier III was sworn in as mayor, nothing gave him more pleasure than bending another’s will to his own. He knew he would willingly sacrifice millions of people for his own ends. He had no doubts that his view of reality was correct and that others should be willing to sacrifice themselves for that view. He liked having power; he would do anything to get it. And he would do everything necessary to hold on to it.

After his revival, the basic meal, and the briefing, Whittier looked around at the rest of his fellow pilgrims. What an undesirable bunch this is, he thought. As more joined the count, Whittier made a mental note of a couple of them as possible confederates, based on their size and their perceived low intelligence. An idea was beginning to percolate in his brain.

When everyone moved outside the ship, Whittier managed to get a big, older man, who had introduced himself as Burns, aside. “See if you can find one or two other men we can trust,” he said conspiratorially. Burns nodded. “If we move quickly, we can be in charge of this mob. It may not be worth much, but I think being able to eat regularly is worth something,” Whittier told him.

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Burns acknowledged quietly.

“Do it discreetly,” Whittier whispered adamantly. “You do know what discreetly means?” he inquired, the condescension evident. He needs to know who the boss is, he thought.

Burns nodded, and Whittier could see the other man’s face flush at the insult. He moved off to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

When he was finished emptying the storage compartments, and after a brief rest, Murdock looked over the equipment and began to catalog it all mentally. He saw various knives, hatchets, and ax heads; several sizes of steel wedges, various machetes, a couple of two-man saws — one felling and one bucking; various diameters and types of rope, shovel heads, pickaxe heads, a couple of adzes, and drawknives. Additionally, he’d found forty water skins; quite a few heavy canvas tarpaulins of various sizes; a couple of cases of cooking and eating utensils; and forty cases of the instant oatmeal.

He picked out a pair of Bowie machetes, a twelve-inch and an eighteen-inch with scabbards and fastened them to his belt. Then he slipped a six-inch hunting knife into his boot-sheath. He shoved a hatchet into his belt near the small of his back. He neatly stacked the rest of the tools on top of a tarpaulin that he had already unfolded. When he finished, he folded the remainder of the tarp over the pile. Now, he knew what was available and had it all protected from the weather. Finally, he placed all the water skins on top of the tarpaulin.

No sooner had he finished than a man in a business suit came over to him. To Murdock, he looked to be in his early to mid-thirties, six foot one and about one hundred ninety pounds. The way the man carried himself told Murdock that he tended toward pomposity and was, therefore, untrustworthy.

“You did a nice job of stacking the supplies.” the man said, smiling, indicating the pile under the tarp. “You know what our physical resources are?”

“To a point and after a fashion,” Murdock responded curtly, quietly, “and so would you if you had gotten off that stick and helped.”

“What stick are you talking about?” the man asked, no longer smiling.

“The one stuck in your ass,” Murdock retorted, just loud enough for the man to hear.

The man’s face flushed, and he gave Murdock a quick glare. Then he stuck out his hand and tried to smile.

“I’m Whittier.”

Murdock just looked at the offered hand, then at the man’s face. His eyes narrowed. “Wittier than whom?” he asked stoically.

“No! My name is Whittier. James W. Whittier the third. And you are?”

“Murdock.”

“No first name or is that your first name?” Whittier asked.

“I have a first name,” Murdock quipped, “for friends.” Arrogant and pushy! This one is not to be trusted. Not on any level, he thought.

“I’m sure we’re all friends here,” Whittier stated, loud enough for some of the others to hear. He tried to maintain the disingenuous smile he had plastered on his face while looking at his extended hand.

“That remains to be seen,” Murdock responded warily. He could tell that his hesitance to take Whittier’s hand was making the other man nervous. Murdock looked at the offered hand: well-manicured fingernails, soft, meaty flesh lacking calluses. This guy was used to sitting behind a desk. Murdock bent over, picked up several water skins, and hung all but two in Whittier’s outstretched hand.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” Whittier huffed.

“You might consider filling them, unless you’re giving up water.”

“You expect me to carry water? You can’t be serious!” Whittier said with a shocked look.

“I don’t expect you to do anything. You can do as you please. Just don’t come around me when you get thirsty.” Murdock started walking toward the sound of the water with two water skins. He hadn’t taken many steps before he heard the empty water skins hit the ground. He just grinned to himself and proceeded to the stream.

As Murdock walked toward the sound of running water, he continued to scan the ground for any animal-sign. He also thought about the comments made by his so-called companions.

He did look anachronistic in his buckskins. His boots were also buckskin and laced around his lower legs and ankles. The leather was true deerskin; he had brain-tanned them himself. They were buttery soft and a joy to wear; his prized possession, he was glad to have them.

He had noticed the clothing the others wore. They were dressed in everything from skirts to blue jeans. Lucky no one was wearing a tuxedo, he thought as he chuckled to himself. Why were the others so ill-equipped for this adventure? Why hadn’t the ones who sent them here provided more acceptable clothing? Those in blue jeans would fare better than the rest, but all were going to be hard pressed when winter set in, including himself. And judging by the different types of trees, he knew winter would come.

Based on the lackadaisical attitudes of the others, Murdock judged himself to be the only one with any woodcraft knowledge at all. Everyone else struck him as city or suburban dwellers. Do any of them have a clue what they’re in for?

As he neared to the running water, Murdock paid closer attention for signs of animal trails, which would indicate the easier route to the water. Just inside the line of small trees that skirted the meadow, he found several paths leading in the direction of the water. Murdock followed one down to find the small stream. The stream wasn’t very broad, only four or five feet across, but it looked at least a few feet deep in places and didn’t move too swiftly. At the water’s edge, he noted that other animals had crossed the stream.

Not far off the path, Murdock found a pool formed by the stream flowing back on itself. He used his hand to dip a little water to his lips. Though the walk had been easy, he was already sweating in his weakened condition. He drank deeply before filling his water skins.

Then Murdock sat, watched, and listened. He saw a few large insects skim the calmer edges of the pool. While he watched, he saw one disappear. Fish! He waded out into the pool, cupped both hands between his legs, and stood very still. A moment later, a fish came close, and he scooped it free of the water and onto the bank in one swift motion.

After catching another, he waded over to the bank and stood looking at them.

They were fish, all right, just different from the ones he was used to. These fish resembled trout, but each had an extra set of fins in the back, and the tail was more like a dolphin’s than a trout’s. Murdock half expected them to get up and walk, but they didn’t. He stuck his fingers into their gills, picked up the water skins, and he started back to the transport pod.

Murdock was in high spirits. This was his idea of heaven; he was truly in his element.

On the edge of the meadow, he spotted what appeared to be wild onions and stopped long enough to gather a few. The others are going to come begging once I start cooking these babies, he thought, grinning in anticipation of telling the others they could fend for themselves.

They could have, should have, followed me, Murdock thought. He had no use for those who either refused to learn or expected someone else to provide for them. As he walked on, thinking this, he spotted a few dead limbs and gathered those as well. By the time he got back to the transport pod, he had quite a load.

As Murdock approached the pod, he saw that the others had gathered into a group nearby. He picked out a likely spot for a camp, away from the others, and prepared the fish for cooking. As he smelled the cooking fish, he imagined the smell stirring the others’ hunger.

Though it had taken Murdock the better part of the day to check and stack the supplies as well as get water and fish, from what he could see, the others had done nothing. Now, out of the corner of his eye, Murdock could see Whittier walking in his direction. He waited for the other man to get twenty feet from him.

“That’s close enough, Whittier,” Murdock warned without turning around.

“Hey, friend Murdock, that smells really good! Where did you get the fish?” Whittier asked nervously, without drawing closer.

“The same place I got the water,” Murdock responded sarcastically. “Fish do live in water, after all.”

“Um… where exactly was that?” Whittier asked.

Murdock turned his head to look sideways at Whittier. “Well, you see, I found this deli while I was out for my morning stroll.” Whittier stared at him blankly. Murdock motioned with his head toward the stream. “That-a-way!”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Whittier asked, after looking in the direction Murdock had indicated.

“I mind very much,” Murdock responded curtly. “And I am not your friend.” He shot Whittier a look of warning.

“I know we got off to a bad start earlier.” Whittier chuckled nervously. “Can’t we just bury the hatchet, so to speak?”

I’d like to bury a hatchet! Murdock thought. “That depends,” he said.

“On?”

“On what you’ve been doing while I was gone. Why didn’t you, or any of the others, follow me to get water? Sure could’ve used a hand bringing back firewood.”

“Oh! Well, we’ve been talking, organizing, and trying to think of a way to get out of this godforsaken place.”

“And what have you come up with?” Murdock asked, genuinely curious. Didn’t they pay attention to the video briefing?

“We haven’t come up with a way out of here, yet. We would like to invite you to a little meeting inside the transport pod, though. Talking would be easier if you’d let me get closer. Those fish sure smell good!”

“Don’t they though?” Murdock responded sarcastically. He could almost hear Whittier salivating. He took down one of the water skins and drank from it for a long moment, smacking his lips in appreciation afterward.

“Do you think I could get a little sip of your water?”

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier?”

“Yes, I remember,” Whittier snapped. “You’re being rude and unfriendly. All I was asking for was a little of your water!”

“Just to be clear, you believe that you are significant in some way, and everyone else is supposed to support you? Is that right? If you weren’t a politician, you missed your calling! What about the others?” Murdock could see Whittier’s face turning bright red.

“Yes, I was a local politician, and since you mentioned it, they’re all rather thirsty. All the talking we did today tends to dry out the throat.”

“Too bad one of them didn’t have the foresight to follow me to the water. Did you do any manual labor, at any time, before coming here?”

“No! I asked for a drink of water, and I don’t feel I have to submit to your inquisition,” Whittier fumed.

“You better realize that this situation is not conducive to a dictatorship,” Murdock took down the unused water skin and tossed it to Whittier. “That’s all you, or anyone else, will get from me!”

Whittier took the water skin and walked back to the rest.

Things are going to get out of hand, quickly, Murdock thought. He knew he was outnumbered, but he also knew he could take most of them, if it came to that. He would need items under the tarp. Though he could do without most of them, life would be a lot easier with them, or at least with access to them. This is going to take planning and finesse, and finesse has never been my strong suit.

While he ate, Murdock formed a tentative plan. He needed to find a more permanent base of operations. He’d start by rigging some kind of pack to carry the things he would need to make a basecamp more livable and easier to maintain. Above all, he needed to find out if humans were the apex predator on this planet, all of which called for a lot of scouting. But before he could attempt any of that, he had to build up his strength. A day or two should be enough before I can start scouting, he thought.

After eating less than half of the first fish, Murdock was full. With no way to keep the fish from spoiling, he took the remains to the others and offered it to any who wanted it. Some of the others refused to eat it because it was wild. Others ate a little and complained that it was under-cooked. Some thought it was over-cooked. Still others thought the fish had too many bones. Despite all the complaints, Murdock noticed that the fish quickly disappeared.

After his confrontation with Murdock, Whittier was livid. He decided that Murdock presented a problem for him and his plans. Murdock won’t be satisfied with anything less than the role of Leader in the community and I’ve already reserved that role for myself, he thought.

As he was passing the water skin around, Whittier waited for Burns’ turn. “I need you and one other to nominate me at the meeting for Leader,” he told Burns in low, conspiratorial tones. Burns nodded.

Whittier smiled to see that Burns knew when to speak and when to be quiet and do as he was told.

The meeting proceeded much as Murdock expected. Everyone but Murdock had gathered in the common room of the transport pod, and as it was standing room only, Murdock preferred to stand on the ramp. The crowd was thin there, yet he could still hear everything that was said. Quite a few of the displaced voiced complaints about the lack of proper facilities and running water, and some expressed concern about their diet. Murdock chuckled and guessed that the others would find oatmeal very bland and unappealing before long.

“I believe that we should first hold a vote for the leadership of the colony,” Whittier yelled over the din of the others all talking at the same time. “We need to have order and a leader should bring order!”

“I nominate Mister Whittier!” someone called out from the middle of the room.

“I second!” someone else piped up. Murdock smirked as he shook his head. Could Whittier be more obvious?

“A nomination has been made and seconded! All those in favor say ‘Aye’!” Whittier commanded from the front.

“Aye!” came a loud roar.

“Opposed?”

“No!” Murdock yelled, but his was the lone voice.

“In the opinion of the chair, the ayes have it. The first order of business is to establish committees for some of the basic needs of the colony.”

Murdock walked off, disgusted. He had always been wary of politicians and their ways of gaining control. If you need a privy, you start by digging a hole!Not by forming a committee, he thought as he walked back to his campfire. All the while, he could hear Whittier taking votes, and he couldn’t help wondering what sort of con the politician had cooked up.

Whatever his scheme, Whittier is going to be the chief beneficiary.

2

At sun-up, Murdock had been up and moving for at least an hour. He saw that the ramp to the transport was closed and no sign of anyone else. On his way toward the stream, he encountered a small herd of animals resembling deer — but if these were deer, they were enormous. By his estimation, they appeared to be closer to the size of an elk, judging from the distance.

It’s not going to be easy to bring down one of those brutes without a bow or a ranged weapon of some sort, he thought. He doubted he could throw a heavy spear far enough to be effective against such a large animal. Maybe an atlatl would be better.

But as he approached the stream, he halted. A large, black bear stood in the middle of the stream. Murdock had encountered bears on Earth, but he guessed this one to be the size of a large grizzly.

The bear hadn’t seen him, so he decided to back away slowly and as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was tackle a bear of this size with just the weapons he had on him, especially in his weakened condition. When he was completely out of sight of the bear, he breathed a little easier.

After calming himself a little, Murdock noticed that he was downwind of the bear and decided to creep in closer and observe it. No sooner had he got down on his belly than he heard approaching footsteps. He rolled over in the high grass to see the woman who had called him Daniel Boone walking blindly toward the bear.

Rose Griffen had risen earlier than the rest of the group and had decided to find the water Murdock had mentioned. After exiting the pod and reclosing the ramp, she glanced toward Murdock’s campsite.

“You’re an early riser, Murdock,” she said aloud. Oh, well. You need a bath, girl. Just suck it up and head in the general direction and you’ll find it…eventually, she thought.

As she walked, she gazed around, appreciating all the different colors of the wildflowers, as well as the odd blue-green shade of the grass and trees. The area reminded her of a park that she had visited as a child in Omaha.

She also noticed the absence of noise. Used to all the road noise, humming power lines, birds chirping, and kids yelling, Rose found the silence almost deafening, even disturbing. She was on guard as she walked, following a path of sorts created by someone or something, pushing down the knee-high grass.

Rose wasn’t far from the smaller trees that skirted the meadow in which the pod stood when suddenly she was falling. Something had hit her leg behind the knee, causing her leg to buckle. Then, as she hit the ground, someone was wrapping her legs and arms. She took a deep breath to scream when a hand clapped over her mouth.

“Quiet,” a man whispered, his mouth close to her ear. “There’s a bear in the stream!”

When she quit struggling, he slowly removed his hand from her mouth and untangled himself from her. Without saying a word, he motioned for her to follow him, crawling toward the stream as she followed. The bear had neither heard nor smelled them and was continuing to feed on the fish it caught.

Murdock turned toward her. Rose’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide, stunned.

They watched the bear for several minutes. Finally, the bear finished and walked away from them and the transport pod. As she tried to get up, Murdock pushed her back down and put a finger to his lips. They waited a few more minutes, and then Murdock got to his feet slowly.

“Sorry about that,” he said, offering a hand to her to help her to her feet while looking around — she presumed he looked for other dangers. “I didn’t think you wanted to meet that particular local resident this early in the morning.”

“Under the circumstances, it’s okay. That really was a bear?” she asked quietly, still filled with awe.

“It’s the closest thing to a bear that we’re likely to see. Definitely was one of the apex predators of this planet,” Murdock explained.

“Yeah, not really in the mood to meet the neighbors,” she quipped while brushing herself off. “My name is Rose Griffen.” She extended her hand, and Murdock took it.

She had seen Murdock when she was first revived on the transport pod. At the time, she thought him anachronistic, belonging to an age long gone, and a little on the arrogant side. Now, she took a longer look. He was shorter than she was by an inch or two; stocky build, black hair, either tanned or naturally dark-complexioned, and apparently well-muscled, although he hid it well. Overall, she thought he was pleasant to look at. Rose classified him as someone most people would underestimate, which she suspected was his intent. He obviously knew what he was doing when it came to surviving in the wild.

Murdock noticed Rose, finally.

“Murdock,” he said while gently shaking her hand. Her hands were soft and warm, but they did have a few calluses. “What’re you doing out here this early?”

“I was hoping to get a bath in the stream.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea. Until we figure this place out, I wouldn’t recommend venturing off alone.”

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend standing downwind of me until I get a bath, either. Lesser of two evils,” Rose quipped and grinned.

She has a nice smile, he thought, infectious.

“A bath is out of the question, for the time being.” Murdock noticed she had not so much as a knife. “Washing up would be all right, but not alone and definitely not unarmed!”

“Wasn’t issued a weapon,” Rose replied offhandedly. “It wouldn’t do me much good in any case. Don’t know how to use one. I’m a city girl!”

Murdock was stumped by her statement. He had taken it for granted that everyone knew how to use a knife as a weapon. He pulled out his six-inch knife from his boot and handed it to her. “Stick this in your belt.”

Rose looked at the offered knife and shrugged. “I’m not wearing a belt.” She lifted her shirt a little to show Murdock that the loops on her jeans were empty. “Besides, you’re here now and appear to be armed to the teeth.”

“I’m not nearly as well-armed as I’d like.” Murdock replaced the knife in his boot. “When we get back I’ll see what I can do. This is not a walk in a park. We’re in a survival situation. You can die out here in a heartbeat!”

“If you’re that concerned, I guess you better follow me then.” Rose ignored his warnings and started toward the stream.

Murdock just looked at her as she passed and decided to follow. He already knew arguing with her wasn’t going to get him anywhere. When they got to the stream, Rose removed her tennis shoes while Murdock filled the water skin. She looked at Murdock.

“Promise you won’t look?” she asked sheepishly.

“No, I won’t promise anything of the sort. Someone has to be the lookout,” Murdock stated flatly while climbing back up the low bank.

Rose just shrugged, removed her flannel shirt and her jeans, and laid them beside her shoes. She waded in and began to wash up. Murdock remained on the bank watching for possible threats from either side of the stream. When she finished, she put her clothes back on and slipped her shoes on without tying them. Murdock hadn’t noticed her dressing or undressing. His attention was elsewhere.

“I’d tie those shoes, if I were you,” he said as she climbed up the bank, with his help, seeing her untied shoes. “Your ankles are going to need the support, and you never know when you’ll have to run.”

“Don’t even think of telling me what to do,” she blasted back. She stomped off toward the transport pod.

Back at his camp, it wasn’t long before Murdock saw Whittier heading his way, and he let out a little groan.

“Mind if we have a little chat?” Whittier asked.

“I suppose,” Murdock responded coolly. “I don’t think it would matter much if I said no.”

“Rose said you saw a bear by the stream?” Whittier asked, ignoring the quip.

“Not exactly a bear that you’d find on Earth, but it resembled one.”

“Wow! I wasn’t aware there would be large animals here,” Whittier stated.

Murdock couldn’t believe his ears. “You thought we were just dumped in a park?” he asked sarcastically.

“I wasn’t expecting to have to fend off bears!”

“Mind if I speak freely?” Murdock asked.

“Go ahead.”

“There are lots of things about this planet that we don’t know. You can just about guarantee that we are not the only apex predators here. There could be all kinds of wild animals that present a danger to humans. This place appears to be somewhat parallel with the Colorado Mountains back home, but appearances can be, and generally are, deceiving. There are probably ten thousand ways this planet can kill you, and that is a conservative estimate.”

“Hold on a moment,” Whittier protested. “We are men, not predators.”

Murdock was dumbfounded. This guy is totally clueless, he thought. “Deal with many bears in your office back on Earth?” he asked sarcastically.

“No, we just seem to have a difference of opinion on what a predator is.”

“Maybe you can tell me what Earth species endangered wolves, seals, whales, lions, tigers, and eagles, just to name a few?”

“Humans did, but that was for our progress. But I’m not going to debate that issue with you.”

“Sounds rather predatory to me, but you are the duly elected colony leader, so far be it for me to tell you anything!” Murdock, incensed, turned back to his campfire.

“Hold on! No need to be rude! I came over here to ask your opinion on the matter.”

“My opinion is that you should leave the bears alone, if you find one.” Murdock went back to tending his fire. “Trying to eradicate them will be far beyond your capabilities, thankfully!”

“Since, as you say, I am the duly elected leader, and the safety of the colony is my concern, what would you suggest we do about getting water and food in this hellhole?”

Murdock just snickered slightly. Hellhole? “I think that your safety concerns are for yourself only,” Murdock answered. “As with any situation, you have to assess all your assets before you can proceed.” He just wanted Whittier to leave him alone. You can’t teach anyone who refuses to learn, much less someone who thinks he has all the answers.

“That has already been done. You assessed our assets yesterday.”

“And you refuse to listen,” Murdock blasted back. “I said all your assets! Is anyone here a doctor? How many know how to hunt? How many have gone camping in the wild? Does anyone know any basic survival skills? Or don’t you consider those skills an asset?” The volume of Murdock’s voice rose through frustration and thundered toward Whittier.

“I see your point,” Whittier responded coolly, appearing somewhat intimidated by the smaller man.

“And I wouldn’t allow anyone to walk around outside the transport pod without being armed with at least a knife. As of our landing, humans are on the menu!”

“I see no reason to allow that! Surely, with all of us here, we’re safe!”

“You think so? Ask Rose Griffen. She saw the bear. How many here would want to fight it to save someone?”

“Well, there aren’t enough of us to do much when it comes to rescuing someone.”

Murdock wasn’t surprised to hear this from Whittier. “Not even if it was you who needed rescuing?” he asked coolly.

Whittier said nothing. Murdock saw Whittier’s jaws clench and could tell he hadn’t thought of that.

“You probably wouldn’t rescue anyone,” Murdock muttered. “It would mean you’d have to care about someone else’s hide over your own!”

“That was an unfair statement! I care about everyone here!” Whittier raised his voice so the others could hear.

“If that’s true, then why did you lock me out of the transport pod last night?”

“That was a decision I made as colony leader. I figured if you wanted to come in, you would have before the ramp was closed.”

“Without warning me you were closing it? It is my considered opinion that the best thing you could do for everyone is to take a very long walk. With any luck, you wouldn’t come back!” Murdock turned his back on Whittier. “Who do you think you’re fooling with your false concern? You’re a typical politician! Look out for yourself and everyone else is expected to look after you as well!”

Whittier, furious, grabbed Murdock by the bicep to turn him back around. Murdock shook off the other man’s grip on his arm and trapped Whittier’s arm with his body, bringing up his free arm to put pressure on Whittier’s elbow. He stopped short of breaking it. Whittier was in shock and on the balls of his feet trying to relieve the pain and pressure on his elbow and shoulder.

“Get this straight! You don’t touch me! Ever! Next time, I’ll break it for you,” Murdock warned through clenched teeth, just loud enough for Whittier to hear. “Get out of here!” He pushed the other man toward the transport pod. Whittier lost his footing and fell.

When Whittier got up, he was rubbing his elbow, looking shocked and fearful.

“You’re a very violent and unstable individual! I’m not entirely sure we need your kind here,” Whittier yelled while walking toward the others.

“As nice as Earth was, it had one bad thing about it: too many people like you,” Murdock shouted at Whittier’s back.

He knew he should have kept his anger in check, but Whittier’s stupidity and arrogance had brought his temper to full boil in a heartbeat. Murdock could tell that Whittier would sacrifice everyone else trying to save his own skin. Did Murdock mean what he said? Yes, every word of it, but he also knew very few people could handle either the naked truth or the reality of their situation.

He watched as Whittier went inside the transport pod, helped along by two of the other men and one of the women, none of whom he recognized. The rest of the group were having an independent discussion and hadn’t appeared to notice the altercation.

Whittier fumed as he walked away. How dare Murdock put hands on me! He’d hoped to get rid of him; now, Murdock’s temper had just given him the means to do so.

When he got close to the pod, Burns and another man helped him inside the ship. A female he didn’t know followed.

“Are you all right, Boss?” Burns asked, with real and evident concern. Whittier scowled at the strangers and then scowled at Burns. “They’re okay. This is Tom Collier and Krysia Oblonski.” Krysia smiled coyly at Whittier when Burns introduced her.

“I need to talk to Burns, so you two leave! Go get some water or something!” Whittier told them gruffly.

Once they had left, he asked Burns, “Did you see that altercation?”

“Yeah, well, sort of! Never seen anything like that! Never saw him move! I blinked and he had you!” Burns responded excitedly.

“Damn near broke my arm,” Whittier said venomously, more to himself than to Burns. He rubbed his elbow as he remembered the incident. “Murdock is too dangerous to roam free and remain armed!”

“I don’t think I could disarm him,” Burns responded, shaking his head. “I don’t think all of the men working together could disarm him!”

My leadership has been challenged, he thought and he knew this couldn’t go unanswered. “I want the group to vote me emergency powers,” he told Burns after thinking for a moment.

“I think I can deliver a majority if I’m allowed to do so by whatever means necessary,” Burns answered.

“I don’t want anyone physically harmed…yet,” Whittier instructed. “Use the idea that Murdock could come after them at any time. Use their fear! Get as many people as you need to get me a majority vote. Promise anything!”

“What do I get out of it?” Burns asked slyly.

“What would you like?” Whittier asked grumpily. What a fool, he thought. Whittier smirked while he waited for Burns to verbalize what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” Burns responded. “I know that you are going to be a big deal after this vote, and I want to be part of those in charge.”

“I could make you police chief. Allow you to hire whomever you wish,” Whittier offered, still smirking. When the time came, he would have no problem cutting this fool loose. I’ll make them all pay, sooner or later! No one would help me, so I’m going to make them wish they had!

After more than twenty minutes, Rose came over to Murdock.

“Are you calm enough to get me set up with what you think I need?” she asked pleasantly.

“We don’t have what I think you need,” Murdock responded with a slight smile. He had cooled down sufficiently to be somewhat polite. “I saw no tanks or rocket launchers. All I can do is make do with what we have.”

He and Rose went to the tarp and he threw it back. He selected some quarter-inch rope and measured off about fifty feet and cut it. This he coiled up and slung diagonally across his body. He then measured off another fifty feet and cut it again. He wrapped it around Rose’s waist three or four times and cut it again.

“Divide that up until you have enough to tie it in front of you without too much extra,” he suggested while he continued to search through the items under the tarp. He outfitted Rose the same way he was outfitted.

“Do I really need all this stuff?” she asked as he hung the machetes and the six-inch knife on her makeshift belt. He inserted a hatchet, much the same way as his was.

“Yes, you do. You never know what you’re going to need until you don’t have it,” he responded.

“But I don’t know what all this stuff is used for.”

“The belt can be used for several things if you have to, like setting snares or tying a splint on someone’s leg,” he explained. “The big machete is used for clearing brush or taking down small trees. The little machete can be used for smaller jobs that are too small for the big machete and too big for the six-inch knife. The six-inch knife can be used for anything from cutting small rope to skinning and cleaning game. The hatchet is good for trees too big for the machete to handle. All of these can be used as an effective weapon, if you have to. I would also suggest you get in the habit of tying your shoes whenever you wear them. Otherwise, you could lose them if you have to run from a bear. I don’t think you want to go through life barefoot.”

As Murdock got Rose outfitted, the rest of the group came over to listen to his explanations. Following his lead, the members of the group grabbed their own sets as he explained and hung them as his were. When he found the whetstones, he gave each person one. The others looked at the stones blankly.

“They’re for sharpening your six-inch knife and twelve-inch machete. You only cut yourself with dull knives. Anyone else been camping, hunting, or fishing?”

“I have been camping before,” one man said with another nodding his agreement, “and did a little fishing.”

“I’ve been fishing before, sort of,” another piped in sheepishly.

“This is going to be a lot different than anything you’ve experienced before. You’re going to have to rely on each other — on your skills and theirs. It’s not going to be easy.”

“Why did you tell me we can’t bathe for a while?” Rose asked, obviously still in a snit about the bath.

“Do any of us know what’s in the water?” Murdock explained. “Does it have leeches or snapping turtles? I wouldn’t recommend bathing until we know a lot more about our surroundings and the creatures we share this environment with. Are there any snakes around? Just because you haven’t seen them doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

When they were all outfitted, Murdock stood back, looking them over. He suppressed his laughter. They all looked ridiculous in their skirts and suits, outfitted for tramping in the woods.

“What about bathroom facilities?” one of the women asked.

“Until you figure out where you’re going to build a more permanent settlement, I would say go out in the trees. I would highly recommend that none of you go off on your own. Take someone with you. Four eyes see more than two.”

They seemed to accept what he said. To Murdock, they all looked to be in shock. He suspected that the reality of their situation hadn’t sunk in yet, not totally.

Just then, one of the men who had helped Whittier into the transport pod came over.

“Whittier has called an emergency meeting,” he said gruffly. “Murdock is banned from it!”

Murdock shrugged and walked off toward the trees in the opposite direction of the stream. It was close to midday, and he was starting to get a bit peckish. The further he walked from the transport pod, the more the issue of Whittier disappeared from his consciousness.

As he walked, he heard something moving in the waist-high grass parallel to his course. Must be something small or something crawling. Though he couldn’t see what was following him, he could hear and feel it, as if he were being stalked. Slowly, he withdrew the eighteen-inch machete from its sheath, carrying it at his side in his right hand. The hair on his neck stood on end. The creature was close; soon it would strike from his left.

He took a couple more steps and caught movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. In a swift, single motion, he moved his left side away from the attack and brought the large machete into play. As soon as he saw the mouth, he swung the machete upward. No time to analyze the attack; in his disconnected state, his response time had been close to instantaneous.

Not until the attack and response were over did Murdock realize what had attacked him. At his feet lay the biggest snake he had ever seen writhing around, missing its head. The severed head lay off to the side with only a few inches of the body attached.

Murdock stepped away as the snake continued to thrash and roll. He waited for the contortions to subside and for his own adrenaline to run its course. Finally, after the snake had stilled, he walked the length of the body. Twenty-five feet long and twelve inches across its diameter, he thought. He estimated the weight at two hundred pounds at least — more than he could drag or carry.

He cut the carcass in half and carried the front half back to his camp. The trek was hard going, and he sweated profusely. There, he tied the first half of the snake in a tree with the rope he carried, grabbed a drink of water from his water skin, and headed back to retrieve the rest of the snake. Before he reached it, though, he saw a dozen or so large carrion birds finishing what he had left behind.

“So much for that idea,” Murdock said aloud, heading back to the camp.

After cleaning and prepping the snake for cooking, he placed the skewers on to cook. Needing fresh water and a quick clean-up, he headed off to the stream. On his way back, he noticed the others had come out of the transport pod and now milled around talking to each other.

He avoided them and went to his campsite instead. When he checked the meat, he found a couple of pieces were done so he ate them. The meat was juicy and a little on the sweet side, but very rich and he could tell it would be very filling. While he took a drink from the water skin, he saw Rose walking in his direction.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, smiling.

“Chicken,” Murdock snickered. “Would you like some?”

“Don’t mind if I do!” she said gratefully. She selected a skewer of cooked meat and began nibbling. “Tastes pretty damn good to me!” she said after chewing up and swallowing a good-sized bite. “Where did you find chicken out here?”

Murdock just chuckled. He had finished his skewer and, after refilling it and placing it on the fire, ate another. Meanwhile, Rose finished her skewer.

“If you want more, help yourself.” He took her empty skewer, refilled it, and set it on the fire to cook. “There’s plenty.”

Rose looked to the other skewers and then at the rest of the group, all of whom had stayed back.

“You know there’s trouble coming from your little dust-up with Whittier,” she said quietly as she selected another skewer.

“What else is new? It isn’t the first time, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Would be worth it, too, if the rest of this group could see him for what he is. What happened to your gear?”

“That’s one of the issues that your argument with Whittier brought to the fore. A majority voted to give Whittier some temporary discretionary power for inside the colony area. Everyone voted, but he got only a slim majority. The first thing he did was to appoint Burns and Collier as the police department.”

“Don’t think I know who they are.”

“They are the two burly… gentlemen—and I use the term loosely—with little or no neck,” Rose reminded him. Murdock nodded. “First thing Burns did as head of the police was decree that no weapons be allowed in the colony area. They confiscated all the gear from the rest of us.” Rose paused as all this sank in. Murdock had stopped eating and now looked at her in a way that told her that he knew what to expect next from that quarter. “This is really good chicken,” Rose said changing the subject. “It’s a lot better than that oatmeal crap we’ve been eating.” Rose looked at him seriously. “Mind if the rest have some?”

Murdock looked over at the rest of the group. He didn’t see Whittier, Burns, or Collier anywhere.

“What are the two stooges plus one cooking up?” Murdock asked.

“Don’t know. We’re in adjournment for a while.”

“Why are you telling me this? Won’t you get into trouble with the leaders? “

“I’ve never had to look for trouble,” Rose stated between bites. “It’s always been right there, waiting, whether I needed it or not.”

Murdock started to choke and almost spit out the meat. “I know what you mean,” he laughed.

“Besides, you did save my bacon this morning, and you tried to be of some help, even if the rest don’t appreciate it. I’m just returning the favor.”

“It’s always nice to know trouble is coming and be prepared for it.”

“What about the others?” Rose asked.

“I’ve had enough for now. I suppose the rest might as well enjoy it while they can.”

“It would be better if you made the offer,” Rose suggested. “You might need the goodwill. It couldn’t hurt!”

Murdock thought for a couple of seconds. He walked over to the rest. “Soup’s on,” he yelled.

After the group had eaten its fill, Murdock saw someone, he assumed it was Burns, come out of the transport pod. He stood at the base of the ramp, arms crossed, scowling. As the others spotted him, they began nudging each other and walking sheepishly toward the transport pod. Rose was the only one who thanked him.