Alien Alliance Box Set

bushes.
The cloud-shimmering water showed a faint ripple on its oily surface, leaving Hurd blinking as he crouched to collect sediment and water samples. Bubbles came up slowly from below. The mud was soft and yielding. Hurd stoppered the glass containers and added it to his glass bin, staring with suspicion at another ripple.
At any rate, the ship’s computers could check for microbes in this soup or any form of microscopic life. In the lower gravity it was easier to bear such weights, though it was difficult to get used to the hopping gait necessary to keep balanced without falling flat on their faces. They adopted the proverbial ‘Moon Walk’. One energetic hop could send a person flying six feet in the air, as Regers had learned the hard way while trying to move too quickly, vaulting over a pool, nearly smashing his faceplate into a trunk of one of the cone-shaped trees.
Yul wished the numbskull had. It would have taken him out and one less shit for brains to worry about. This seemed a different Regers than the one he had met back at the space hub orbiting Phallanor.
As the grey octagonal form of the lander came in sight, Yul breathed a sigh. He’d been wondering if the beacon had gone awry. Hurd triggered the landing hatch and the grey ramp lowered like a drawbridge between two metallic legs. Yul gripped the 80kg sample bins and lifted them one by one with effortless ease to Hurd who’d scrambled up the ramp and was now dragging them into the holding bay. Yul shook off the heaviness in his prosthetic left arm.
The crew depressurized. The three stowed their gear in the side hatches and removed their helmets. Yul moved aft to start up the engines. The Vegas-U6 rumbled to life: a trim craft, cramped and cozy but it did the job.
Regers lingered behind to pop some capsules in his mouth. Maybe the man was in pain and need medication? Certainly wasn’t winning any friends. He adjusted his wine-coloured cloak and gave it a twirl. “We’re coming up, Frue,” he spoke into the com link with authority. “Got us some real feisty ones here. Plants and a tiger moth. Get the Albatross ready.” He croaked out a laugh.
The engines roared. They took their seats for the short journey to the fast running Alpha-explorer that was Albatross circling out in low orbit.
Yul did not laugh. An unpleasant feeling still spidered up his spine. He often did not have such feelings. Old doubts returned to plague him. How had Mathias phrased it? A unique task. You came up on our list ...a most suitable applicant. He recalled the phrase distinctly as he guided the U6 skyward.
What list? Yul had no answer. He tried to keep as low a profile as possible. Eccentric billionaires could afford to have their secrets. Mathias was no exception.
The dim rainbow hues of the Skull Nebula sprawled distant light years away. The sleek mother ship Albatross came into view, a long, silver-grey Alpha retrofit of an earlier model with twin thrusters and cargo bays at stern and flared rear lander pads at midship. Frue, the pilot guided them in.
Greer, the ship’s engineer, greeted the three at the hatch with an affable grin. He was a short, sallow-faced man, with salt-and-pepper hair, expert with ship’s functions. “Any luck?”
“We secured water and soil samples and some plants,” said Yul. “We didn’t hang back too long though. Oxygen levels were getting low. For whatever reasons, not sure. Maybe Regers’s been sucking on the tubes again. Night was coming on, and the barren planet didn’t look that promising. I could skip the sightseeing.”
“As long as we got the merchandise,” acknowledged Greer. “Now we just have to get the Albatross fixed up.”
“Any luck with our technical problem?”
“None.”
Yul loosed a heavy breath. He shook his head with annoyance. “What good is gathering all these samples, if we can’t get Albatross out of here? The hyperthrust is not optional.”
Greer chewed on his lip.
No sooner had they dragged the bins down the ramp to the main level than the safety lights blinked green and they were hauling the samples to the midship’s bay adjoining the bridge. Yul’s back muscles rippled as he manhandled the heavy weight of the primary bin on his left shoulder, partially reconstructed after the surgery. Loose-limbed and square-jawed, he ran his keen eyes over the specimens. Regers, as usual, made no effort to assist. Hurd, the tallest of the three, took the lighter bin while Greer trailed behind with the key equipment: cutting tools, drills, monitoring devices and sterilized tubes. They decided, after a brief conference, to move the samples to the bridge to watch over them, considering they were their bread and butter. Greer and Yul busied themselves setting up the rectangular tanks at a place off to the side. Mathias had thoughtfully supplied air-tight glass containers for the samples, with three inch tempered glass to withstand any contagion or assaults from within. Greer, anticipating the arrival of samples, had already readied the compressor to pump the planet’s air from the sample canisters into the display cases. An upturned water bottle on the upper glass panel was rigged with nozzle and gauge to drip-irrigate the soil.
Yul tested the drip to ensure it was working. He set down his drill and donned protective gloves and mask to transplant the ferns. Hurd took the remaining water to the ship’s lab for analysis.
The animal container remained empty.
Yul and Greer dumped the extra soil into the plant receptacle. Then each dug out some holes in the soil to admit the roots. Yul lowered the plants in and tamped the earth around the stems with his gloves. Pouring some of the water sample overtop for good measure, he gave a grunt of satisfaction. The moth he put in last, watching it flutter about the drooping plants with an