First Search
* * *
The Chariot returned as quickly as such a vehicle could, churning up dust in its wake as John powered back to the Jupiter II campsite. Despite this, and perhaps because it carried a nearly full load of deutronium, the return seemed agonizingly slow.
Words, on the communicator. Maureen.
We don't know where she is. We did a search as soon as we realized she was gone, but we found nothing. The Robot has been scanning for human and humanoid lifeforms but that's shown nothing too.
She can't have just vanished off the planet.
But as he drove, John knew that this was in fact a distinct possibility. It had happened before. He remembered the Keeper, that collector of creatures from distant worlds, remembered how it had felt when he had demanded that he be given Will and Penny, that they might spend the rest of their lives in an alien zoo. And there were others, too, who had taken such an interest in his family, in Don, even in Dr. Smith or the Robot. And with each of these times, John remembered the deep fear in his heart that the family he loved and had sworn to himself and God to protect might be torn apart.
We'll find her.
He remembered the edge to Maureen's voice as she had answered him.
We'll keep looking.
"Careful," Don said.
John braked even as the pilot spoke, the treads of the Chariot slipping in the loose dirt, the tail sliding as they rounded the corner of the dry riverbed. John did not answer, only nodded and pressed the accelerators forward again.
"Want me to drive a bit?" Don asked.
"I'm fine."
Don braced himself in his seat as they rounded another corner. He did not ask again.
#
Dawn.
It cut across the east with red fingers of light, distant and just a hint now, still far away but inexorable in its warnings. Long shadows, barely visible in the remaining gloom, marked stones and hills, ravines and wadis.
It was still dark, still cool. Overhead, the large moons stared down at the world like curious eyes.
And through the three large windows on the upper deck of the Jupiter II, another light poured forth.
They had gathered. They had risen after fitful sleep, eaten in silence, and now were strapping on packs and scanners and lasers. In addition, Maureen was checking her jet pack for another flight.
Unease had, in the chill and the darkness, become fear.
Outside, the light grew.
Will crouched before the Robot, tinkering inside a panel there.
"I've broadened the range," he said to no one in particular. "And I've increased sensitivity. It means we'll get a lot of false leads, but ...."
His voice trailed off. Judy nodded from where she sat, double checking the charge on the laser rife she bore. No other words were spoken.
The light grew further; the long shadow of a rock made its way through the wide windows.
Judy stood.
"Let's go."
Will finished his work and they moved to the airlock with a promise to check in every half hour. Maureen nodded and watched them go, then returned her attention to the jet pack. Below, she knew that Dr. Smith was still sleeping; he had cooperated in the search yesterday and had collapsed into his bunk last night without a word, demand, or complaint. It was sometimes easy to forget that he was older and that he never exercised, since his normal response to any suggestion that he actually work was met with any of a wide variety of excuses, none of them convincing until now, when he had actually tried to help and had driven himself to exhaustion.
She pondered a moment at the irony, then stepped outside and secured the door of the Jupiter II. As she rose into the early morning air she activated the force field as well.
She could not help but think of her second daughter as she did so.
#
Penny.
Penny was a responsible girl. She was always where she said she would be.
Only not yesterday. Had she left them?
No.
But the Robot had checked this planet when they had first arrived, had found no dangerous life forms; even the local microbes were harmless and easily destroyed by the human immune system. The tremors could be a hazard, but only the larger ones, and there hadn't been any of those in several days. And Penny knew to be careful, didn't she?
Of course she did.
Then where was she?
There was a nagging doubt in the back of Maureen's mind and she found as she flew that it was more than this latest fear. Penny was different these days; quieter, more sullen. She didn't volunteer her feelings the way she used to. Days would pass without a word; just her work and her chores, done to perfection, and the pleated face of her cabin door, closed.
As the jet pack lifted her, its noise reduced to a dull roar by her helmet, Maureen found herself wondering if any of the others had noticed. We're all so preoccupied, she thought, every one of us. We've all got things we're trying to work out. It hasn't been easy.
And John, she had to admit to herself, had never paid a lot of attention to his children. He was a traditional man with traditional ideas. Achievements, not feelings, were what mattered to him. Had he ever just sat with Penny, with Will, with Judy? Just sat and talked, asked how they were doing, asked if they were happy spending their lives in space?
Judy had resisted the mission at first, remember? We had to ask her to come along. Did we ask Penny or Will? Or did we bring them along like so much baggage? What did we ask them to leave behind?
Maureen banked, headed north along the dry riverbed. Once it had run with water, but a quake further along had diverted it, and now it was marked with the dead branches of trees that had perished along its banks. As she flew she kept her eyes on the ground, looking for any telltale signs of her daughter.
Nothing. Maureen expanded her search pattern, remained up until the last traces of light had vanished in the west, then banked again and flew back towards the Jupiter II.
Please, she thought as she saw the lights of the ship ahead. Please let it be that Will and Judy and the Robot found her.
As she settled to the ground outside the main hatch of the ship, Maureen noted the look on each of their faces, and her heart sank as they gathered on the upper deck and talked.
The Robot had tracked her, up to a ridge nearby that they all knew she favored as a place to sit and think. There had been some other biosignatures there too, unfamiliar. It was unclear whether they had been there at the same time as Penny, and they had not left a trail that could be followed.
And that was all as the Chariot returned.
* * *
The Chariot returned as quickly as such a vehicle could, churning up dust in its wake as John powered back to the Jupiter II campsite. Despite this, and perhaps because it carried a nearly full load of deutronium, the return seemed agonizingly slow.
Words, on the communicator. Maureen.
We don't know where she is. We did a search as soon as we realized she was gone, but we found nothing. The Robot has been scanning for human and humanoid lifeforms but that's shown nothing too.
She can't have just vanished off the planet.
But as he drove, John knew that this was in fact a distinct possibility. It had happened before. He remembered the Keeper, that collector of creatures from distant worlds, remembered how it had felt when he had demanded that he be given Will and Penny, that they might spend the rest of their lives in an alien zoo. And there were others, too, who had taken such an interest in his family, in Don, even in Dr. Smith or the Robot. And with each of these times, John remembered the deep fear in his heart that the family he loved and had sworn to himself and God to protect might be torn apart.
We'll find her.
He remembered the edge to Maureen's voice as she had answered him.
We'll keep looking.
"Careful," Don said.
John braked even as the pilot spoke, the treads of the Chariot slipping in the loose dirt, the tail sliding as they rounded the corner of the dry riverbed. John did not answer, only nodded and pressed the accelerators forward again.
"Want me to drive a bit?" Don asked.
"I'm fine."
Don braced himself in his seat as they rounded another corner. He did not ask again.
#
Dawn.
It cut across the east with red fingers of light, distant and just a hint now, still far away but inexorable in its warnings. Long shadows, barely visible in the remaining gloom, marked stones and hills, ravines and wadis.
It was still dark, still cool. Overhead, the large moons stared down at the world like curious eyes.
And through the three large windows on the upper deck of the Jupiter II, another light poured forth.
They had gathered. They had risen after fitful sleep, eaten in silence, and now were strapping on packs and scanners and lasers. In addition, Maureen was checking her jet pack for another flight.
Unease had, in the chill and the darkness, become fear.
Outside, the light grew.
Will crouched before the Robot, tinkering inside a panel there.
"I've broadened the range," he said to no one in particular. "And I've increased sensitivity. It means we'll get a lot of false leads, but ...."
His voice trailed off. Judy nodded from where she sat, double checking the charge on the laser rife she bore. No other words were spoken.
The light grew further; the long shadow of a rock made its way through the wide windows.
Judy stood.
"Let's go."
Will finished his work and they moved to the airlock with a promise to check in every half hour. Maureen nodded and watched them go, then returned her attention to the jet pack. Below, she knew that Dr. Smith was still sleeping; he had cooperated in the search yesterday and had collapsed into his bunk last night without a word, demand, or complaint. It was sometimes easy to forget that he was older and that he never exercised, since his normal response to any suggestion that he actually work was met with any of a wide variety of excuses, none of them convincing until now, when he had actually tried to help and had driven himself to exhaustion.
She pondered a moment at the irony, then stepped outside and secured the door of the Jupiter II. As she rose into the early morning air she activated the force field as well.
She could not help but think of her second daughter as she did so.
#
Penny.
Penny was a responsible girl. She was always where she said she would be.
Only not yesterday. Had she left them?
No.
But the Robot had checked this planet when they had first arrived, had found no dangerous life forms; even the local microbes were harmless and easily destroyed by the human immune system. The tremors could be a hazard, but only the larger ones, and there hadn't been any of those in several days. And Penny knew to be careful, didn't she?
Of course she did.
Then where was she?
There was a nagging doubt in the back of Maureen's mind and she found as she flew that it was more than this latest fear. Penny was different these days; quieter, more sullen. She didn't volunteer her feelings the way she used to. Days would pass without a word; just her work and her chores, done to perfection, and the pleated face of her cabin door, closed.
As the jet pack lifted her, its noise reduced to a dull roar by her helmet, Maureen found herself wondering if any of the others had noticed. We're all so preoccupied, she thought, every one of us. We've all got things we're trying to work out. It hasn't been easy.
And John, she had to admit to herself, had never paid a lot of attention to his children. He was a traditional man with traditional ideas. Achievements, not feelings, were what mattered to him. Had he ever just sat with Penny, with Will, with Judy? Just sat and talked, asked how they were doing, asked if they were happy spending their lives in space?
Judy had resisted the mission at first, remember? We had to ask her to come along. Did we ask Penny or Will? Or did we bring them along like so much baggage? What did we ask them to leave behind?
Maureen banked, headed north along the dry riverbed. Once it had run with water, but a quake further along had diverted it, and now it was marked with the dead branches of trees that had perished along its banks. As she flew she kept her eyes on the ground, looking for any telltale signs of her daughter.
Nothing. Maureen expanded her search pattern, remained up until the last traces of light had vanished in the west, then banked again and flew back towards the Jupiter II.
Please, she thought as she saw the lights of the ship ahead. Please let it be that Will and Judy and the Robot found her.
As she settled to the ground outside the main hatch of the ship, Maureen noted the look on each of their faces, and her heart sank as they gathered on the upper deck and talked.
The Robot had tracked her, up to a ridge nearby that they all knew she favored as a place to sit and think. There had been some other biosignatures there too, unfamiliar. It was unclear whether they had been there at the same time as Penny, and they had not left a trail that could be followed.
And that was all as the Chariot returned.