The next two days pass much quicker than I’d like, and before I know it I’m in the deep end, attempting to tread water.
And by that, I mean I’m attempting to slip my way through the thick flora that populates planet Rheia. I’ve got all my field supplies crammed into a bag hanging off my shoulder, but the most important cargo I’m carrying is my lunch, hidden in a pocket deep inside the bag. I tucked it away covertly just in case any of the critters out here get any ideas and come near with thieving little paws.
I’m already not in the best mood — if my food gets stolen then it’s game over. I’ll be marching back inside to shove the mission briefing up Seamus’ ass and then heading straight to bed to reclaim the two nights sleep I’ve lost thinking about it.
The briefing that had arrived at my quarters the morning after my meeting with Seamus was, to put it simply, a big fuck-around. Exactly what could he brief me on, when we know next to nothing about the species to begin with? Apparently he’d managed to pull some stuff out of his ass, because the packet was about as thick as my finger.
“Stupid,” I grumble, barely resisting the urge to kick a rock as I trudge past it. “I’m not qualified for this.”
Honestly I’m mostly worried that I’m going to try my best at this, and then all the other qualified professionals are going to tease the shit out of me for it. I don’t know what to look for, what details to record. Is it everything? Or only the interesting things? See, now I don’t think it’s the latter, because then there would be massive chunks of information missing. But do they want to know everything, like for example how many times they might take a toilet break in a day?
I don’t know!
At least the view is nice. I end up consoling myself with that fact as I go along, taking a moment every few steps to gaze around. Everything is lush and green, the perfect picture of what earth could have been if humans weren’t such a blight on its surface. The flowers and vines I see are vibrant, speckled with blots of peculiar colours that gleam bioluminescent where shade falls upon them.
There are several unique things about the flora on this planet, but the most notable would have to be the size of some things. It isn’t everything within sight, but every so often I will come across something that can only be described as supersized. I’ve read and seen how large some trees can get on earth when left to their own devices, but on Rheia that is taken to a whole new level. Trees loom so high that their tops remain out of my sight; their trunks twisted and full of grooves perfect for climbing. I don’t doubt many of the trees are home to a number of the creatures here.
I’ve seen a few fungi-looking organisms as tall as my shin with caps wider than my shoulders. Some of the trees and shrubs I have passed in my wondering have had their branches weighed down by massive, bulbous fruits — the kind that look like they would burst with flavour and juices the second you bit into them. The team at my base is still analysing the produce here though, so despite how tempting they look I manage not to pluck any for later.
The trip so far has been somewhat more distracting than intended. I can’t help that I’m naturally curious, though.
A look down at my tablet a while later reveals I have travelled far enough out of the bubble around the base that if anything were to happen to me now, they wouldn’t hear me scream. My distress signal would take a while to reach them as well. The running theory is that some of the ore beneath the ground on this planet has certain qualities that are great for scrambling our communication lines.
The forest is alive with sound around me, but it’s oddly comforting. I feel like instead of intruding, I have somehow managed to slip undetected into the flow of things. There is no sound of scampering when I walk through the forest, so even though I don’t see any of the chittering animals echoing their calls from tree to tree, I know they’re there. They don’t seem to give a shit about me, to put it bluntly. It feels like a few of them are casting curious eyes on me, though. It makes a light shudder roll down my spine.
I don’t want to admit it, but I’m starting to have a bit of fun. I must have been more sick of the bland, sterile walls of the base than I realised. I feel a bit like a toddler as I accidentally brush against a fern and watch in bewilderment as it flutters its leaves and then shrinks down, hiding amongst the moss. Somewhat hesitantly I reach a finger out and gently brush it against the next frond. Even though I expected it, the reaction still makes me jump a little. A grin has made its way onto my face as I do it again. The blades flutter and fold in on themselves, frond disappearing from view. A small giggle escapes.
It takes a lot of effort to stop there, but I somehow manage to do so. I feel like I would be terrorising the plants if I touched them any more, so I fold the tablet under my arm and move on. My hand is out as I go, fingers brushing against soft leaves and silky flower petals. I breathe in deeply, thankful the air isn’t harmful to humans and I can venture out without a mask. I’m almost tempted to let my hair down so I can feel the breeze fully.
This planet is so, so pretty. Stunning is a better word, really. The forest sways alive, each breeze like a massive breath passed through the foliage. I almost forget why I came out here in the first place, and probably would have if my tablet didn’t ding in this exact moment with a text notification.
— Seamus [9.45AM]:
‘Don’t get distracted, Bardot. I want those observations.’
His message pulls a frown onto my face. Jerk. Does he know how unrealistic his expectations are? There is a reason we haven’t caught a glance of the natives yet — they are very good at remaining hidden and avoiding us!
Does he think I’m miraculously going to find a species that doesn’t want to be found, in just one day? I wish I could give him a real piece of my mind, because I guarantee he wouldn’t dare to try and rush me after that.
“Ignore him,” I coach myself aloud, shaking my head and taking a deep breath. “Be the better person. You are doing him a favour.”
It doesn’t help much, so I decide not to think about it and simply continue my trek. Spite makes an appearance and puts forth a sudden thought — do I really need to try so hard? Perhaps I can just take it easy, and if I find one of the natives, then great! If I don’t, that’s fine. If Seamus wants me to rush, then he can learn to be a little nicer about it.
Resolved, I let out a big breath and slow my pace to something along the lines of leisurely. For the rest of the venture, I sort of dally around, writing observations about random creatures I catch a glimpse of. I justify the activity as ‘practice’ for the real thing, because I sincerely don’t think I’m going to stumble upon one of the natives any time soon.
True to that prediction, I end up heading back to base later that day with nothing more than a random assortment of observations on everything but the Rheians.
/ / /
“I hate you for dragging me out here.”
Out of breath and unwilling to waste what little air is making it to my lungs, I simply settle on giving Ritika a light glare.
“Don’t give me that look,” she pants, sweat dripping down her forehead. It’s an unusually muggy morning for Rheia’s climate. “You know I can’t do cardio — I’m a weights girl.”
I squint at her; that’s bullshit. She complains just as much when we do strength training. I slow down, beginning the minute of walking I have before I go through the different speeds once more. HIIT sucks, but it gets the job done.
Now that there is less strain on my lungs, I speak up, “You’re full of shit. You suck at both.”
“HEY.”
“I’m just being honest, Riri.” I shrug, stretching my arms above my head. I might do some weights after this, now that she mentions it. My body is the type that shows it if I don’t upkeep an exercise routine. “You complain the same amount for both.”
“It is well within my rights to complain, and you can’t stop me,” she answers, still huffing and puffing. We are just outside the base, traversing the well-worn path that circles it like a relay track. It’s where the more adventurous of the group go for their exercise.
Ritika isn’t the biggest fan of it because it means cardio, but she likes the view too much to resist most days.
“Nothing could stop you complaining,” I say, elbowing her. She yelps, delivering a smack to my arm. There is a soft crack in the foliage above us, but we both pass it off as one of the lemur-like animals that have been seen growing bolder in their curiosity in the past week. They’ve been caught playing around the greenhouses a few times.
“This is why you need to do weights.” Just to stir her up a little, I rub my arm and pretend it doesn’t hurt (it does; pretending is hard). “Didn’t feel a thing just then.”
Ritika lets out a shriek of rage, her mane of hair bobbing in its ponytail as she lurches forward. Laughing, I take off into a run, skipping the jogging portion for the sake of getting ahead of her. Her stamina is too poor to catch up, and only when I’m sure she’s not going to wallop me again do I slow down and rejoin her.
We continue our workout with minimal interruptions, all the while completely unaware of the eyes tracking our every movement.
/ / /
“I’m beginning to think that you’re doing this on purpose, Miss Bardot.”
Seamus’ office is as depressing as ever, all white walls with bland metal furniture — the only exception is the massive wooden bookshelf he has in the corner that holds a variety of medals, trophies, and tomes as thick as my head. I hate being in here, but I’m not exactly in a position to deny a request from the head of this expedition. Back when he was in the military, he had a higher rank than I care to remember. Even though he has left that portion of his career behind, he isn’t exactly the kind of person to let insubordination and disrespect fly. As far as I know, no one in this base has dared go against an order from him in the time we have been here.
It has been three days since I began carrying out the task that he gave me. As I suspected would be the case, I have not seen any of the indigenous people of this planet in that time. As such, in Seamus’ eyes, I am essentially failing the mission he gave me.
“They don’t want to be found,” I inform him simply. It’s not a lie, but there’s a little more to it than that — I haven’t exactly been trying to find them.
“This tiny act of rebellion isn’t going to get you far, Phiala.” I start at the sound of my name said with such a sharp tone. “I am not going to reassign the task to someone else because you haven’t been trying hard enough to find one of the natives and observe them. I know you’re not that stupid, or incapable.”
I can feel the confidence I had first entered this room with beginning to slowly bleed out of me with each passing second. It is an incredible effort to keep my back straight and shoulders square before his piercing eyes. It’s like they’re boring straight through me. This is the first time I have seen Seamus this way, and it is incredibly unnerving.
I don’t dare say anything, because he’s right and I’m not game enough to lie straight to his face, nor am I game enough to admit to it.
“Now, I’m sure that, being the sensible woman you are, you’re not going to let this go on any further, are you?” Seamus doesn’t wait for an answer before he stands, rounding the desk in a few long strides to halt before me. It is an incredible effort not to let my trembling show.
“I want you out in that forest again today,” he says, raising a finger to slowly point in the direction of his office window. “And I want you to reflect on our little chat while you’re out there, yeah?”
I gulp, swallowing the remainder of my pride to give him a nod.
“Good,” Seamus says gruffly, spinning on his heel and marching back to his seat. “Don’t even think of returning until you have logged at least one sighting of the Rheians, Miss Bardot. I think we are at an understanding about what happens if you don’t, hm?”
“Yes, sir.” My hands are clenched into fists at my sides, straining with the effort of keeping myself rooted to the spot.
“Very well,” Seamus waves his hand, turning his attention to the papers on his desk and releasing me from the pressure of his gaze. Instantly, I feel myself deflate a little. “Dismissed.”
I am out of that room before he can even finish the word.
Going against his initial order wasn’t exactly something that was well thought out on my end. Even so, I had no idea that it would garner a reaction like this. I have never seen Seamus so…. Scary. I can safely say I am not a fan, and I don’t intend on trying his patience any further.
Gathering my things in a somewhat haphazard manner, I leave the base and dart into the forest with a renewed determination.
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