The Portal's Gift

The Portal’s Gift By Carol Holland March “Are we clear to land?” The captain’s gaze didn’t stray from the controls of the landing craft. “Clear,” his copilot said. “Level ground near those hills.” Josh had already targeted the hills. Since their first hyperspace jump together the year before, he and Paris were in sync, needing few words to complete their missions. The Teneran copilot had assumed the name Paris from Earth history to make himself more relatable to humans. At the command of his superiors, Josh assumed. Names notwithstanding, they had gone from uneasy colleagues to friends. Sometimes Josh swore he could hear his copilot’s thoughts, which came in handy as they jumped across vast distances with the aid of the Teneran star drive. The Marco Polo was the first Earth spaceship refitted with the drive and Josh the first human pilot chosen to team with a Teneran copilot. No longer confined to the solar system, they explored planets in distant regions of the galaxy, a dream Josh thought would remain a fantasy until the Tenerans arrived on Earth with the news that they were long lost cousins of the human race. “No sign of life,” Josh muttered. The two-person lander skimmed over a rocky landscape. No apparent vegetation. The dark rocks looked volcanic, probably ejected eons ago by the row of hills lining the horizon. “Notify the Marco that we’ll land and collect samples. First near those hills, then we’ll try another location.” The Marco Polo, a research vessel in high orbit around this unnamed planet, held a crew of only ten, but its labs and computers could analyze any substance they discovered. “Yes, sir.” Paris’s long, black-nailed fingers hovered over the array of instruments. Josh stared at those hands that looked so delicate, but were many times stronger than his own. At his console, Paris looked as if he were playing an instrument. Maybe a harp. Josh told himself to focus. As they approached the cone-shaped hill, he checked his own instruments and aimed for an area empty of boulders. “There,” he said. “We should get decent readings from that volcano, if that’s what it is. Those dark spots might be foliage.” Josh harbored a not so secret desire to discover a planet that sustained life beyond the few microbes they had on the first planet they visited after the Marco began its research missions using hyperspace. Paris studied the controls, his long face impassive. When he said nothing, Josh sighed. The silence meant Paris didn’t agree, and he was probably right. It wasn’t likely. Always, they searched for signs of life, but after exploring six planets, all in different sectors of the galaxy, they had come up as empty as had the first humans on Mars. Josh was sure the Tenerans had encountered inhabited planets. They had referenced space travel going back centuries, but so far had revealed nothing of other civilizations. To ask Paris directly would be a breach of their friendship when the Tenerans offered only polite silence to the inquiries made by the brass. Near a cone-shaped hill that resembled volcanic rock, Josh brought the lander down on what turned out to be thick sand. As Paris relayed their status to the Marco, Josh shut down the lander, unbuckled himself, and moved to the rear to check his pressure suit. Half an hour later, they had completed the safety checks on their suits and supply packs, a process Josh always found tedious. He wanted to get out there. When at last the door opened, revealing a new planet waiting for him to place the first human foot upon it, the familiar rush rumbled in his chest, the excitement of the unknown mingled with the hope they would discover something incredible. As captain, Josh exited first. Stepping onto the surface of the planet was almost as big a rush as the jump itself. He took a few steps away from the door, waited for Paris to exit and the door to close. He turned in a circle, taking in the rocky hills, the empty land, distant mountains smudged blue. Paris’s voice came over the comm device they shared. “The temperature is 320 Kelvin, Captain.” Hot enough to fry their brains, but their pressure suits would keep them comfortable. “Copy,” Josh said. “Move out and collect samples.” Paris walked away; his tall frame bent toward the ground. Josh concentrated on collecting rock and soil samples and placing them in the special containers in the pack he carried. Josh had moved a few hundred yards from the ship when a sudden gust of wind nearly knocked him flat. The comm crackled. “A storm, Captain, approaching fast. Return to the lander.” Josh turned and gasped. A black funnel cloud was spiraling toward them. “Damn.” Where had it come from? That thing was huge and moving faster than any Earth storm. Paris approached from behind the lander. “Josh, hurry!” The Teneran sounded tense. Since he rarely used his voice to express emotion, his tone set off Josh’s internal alarm. He tried to run, but tripped over a rock embedded in sand, and fell flat. The impact of his helmet against another rock stunned him. He lay still, trying to catch his breath. Before he could regain his feet, dust engulfed him. Everything went dark. Josh struggled to rise. Something pulled at him. Paris. His long arms, stronger than any humans’, dragged him through dust so thick he couldn’t even see the Teneran. “Get to the lander!” Josh commanded. Inside, they’d be safe. “Can’t take off,” Paris was still dragging him toward the hill. “A cave ahead. We can make it.” Somehow, they did. Stumbling through hot swirling sand, buffeted by fierce wind, with Paris dragging on Josh’s arms, they found the cave in the hillside and crawled inside. The wailing of the wind died to a low rumble. The interior of the cave was cooler and dark, the floor sandy, the walls solid volcanic rock. Josh lay on his back beside Paris and looked around. They were both panting. The cave was only thirty feet deep and half as wide, a tunnel of rock with no useful features to help them survive. Paris sat up. “Are you injured?” Josh hauled himself up and leaned against the nearest rock wall. “Fine.” His head ached, but that he dismissed. “What are you doing?” The Teneran had risen and was checking the fastenings on his suit and helmet. “I must return to the lander and retrieve our survival gear. This storm may not be short-lived.” “Damn!” Josh slammed his gloved fist against the sand. His fault. They had not brought their survival packs for what he thought would be a short, sample-gathering excursion in clear weather. Each survival pack weighed more than a hundred pounds, and contained everything they needed for an emergency: food, extra water, portable stove, tents, medical supplies—everything. They had left the lander with only water, extra oxygen tanks, and space for their samples. “I’m coming.” Josh rose. The cave swirled around him in a sickening spiral motion. He sat down abruptly. Paris knelt and peered into his face. Behind the helmet, the Teneran looked even more alien. “You are injured, Captain. You must stay here. I’ll return with the supplies.” “Just give me a minute.” Paris had pulled out his atmospheric recorder and was fiddling with the dials. “The atmosphere is barely breathable for humans, only ten percent oxygen, but in here without the blowing sand, we can survive with just masks. The opening to this cave is small. I should be able to construct a barrier across it and increase the air quality with the portable oxygenator in the lander. If the storm does not end soon, we can stay here. With our equipment, we could survive for days.” The wind howled. The cave opening revealed nothing but roiling sand. “I’m coming,” Josh said. “No.” Paris used the tone that indicated he had made up his mind. “You may have a head injury. I can go faster alone.” He rose. Of course, he was right. Tenerans were stronger and faster than humans, but Josh hated admitting infirmity. “Try the ship again.” Paris nodded and switched his comm to the Marco’s channel. He listened and then shook his head. “Nothing. This storm is enough to interrupt our communications. Wong’s equipment will pick it up, so they’ll know we cannot return or communicate with them.” “They’ll wait,” Josh said. Not that the crew had much choice. He and Paris had to pilot the Marco during a jump. Only a Teneran and a handpicked and trained human pilot working together could perform the delicate dance of piloting the ship through hyperspace to locate the gate that would return them to Earth space. The backup team was certified to jump, but had performed the maneuver only once in training. It wouldn’t come to that. His crew was doubly certified, in their scientific specialty and in communications, mechanical engineering, and navigation. They were the best of the Terran Exploratory Service. Wong, the communications officer, would try to raise them on a regular schedule. As soon as the storm abated, their comm equipment would spring to life. The trick was for that to happen before they ran out of water. “How much water is in those packs?” Josh asked. “More than enough for a few days, right?” “If we conserve, there should be enough to last each of us a week,” Paris responded. If Josh didn’t stand, the cave stayed in one place. A headache pounded behind his eyes, but if he had a concussion, it was a mild one. “All right. Get going. And get your ass back here fast.” Paris nodded. “Don’t forget to activate the force field for the lander.” Behind the thick mask was a look of Teneran exasperation. Paris didn’t like Josh to remind him of tasks he considered his duty. “No, Captain, I won’t forget.” Another benefit of the Tenerans arriving on Earth was the technology that provided energetic shielding for small pieces of equipment. The lander was at the upper size limit for an effective light-based force field, but it should protect it from the worst effects of the sandstorm. Paris rechecked the fastenings on his face mask, squared his wide shoulders, and strode out into the storm. He left his pack beside Josh. He would have enough to carry on the return trip. Josh rested his head against the rough wall. The lander was not over ten minutes away. Less. Paris had to find it, go inside, pick up two heavy packs, plus the portable oxygenator in its own pack, exit, close the door, and walk back. If he moved slowly, it should take between thirty and sixty minutes.