| |
Elliot blew into his hands and rubbed them together for warmth, stamping his feet on the concrete floor of the hangar. It didn’t help. Getting up before dawn was old hat by now, but no amount of early mornings would make him enjoy being cold. Even the air smelled icy. Elliot tried to focus on that instead of the high expectations for today.
The rest of the camera crew huddled together while they waited for their guide. Thuds and clanks echoed as workers of various sorts hurried around loading gear into trucks and aircars, lit up by technology while the sun got its act together outside. The distant mountain range delayed sunrise here. This didn’t help the temperature situation.
Hubcap joined the group slightly tardy, in a chipper mood that told Elliot he wasn’t planning on bringing up the bad news either. “I’ve scouted out some interesting restrooms for you biological types!” Hubcap announced. “There’s one on every floor next to the main elevators, but also several in high-traffic locations.” He pointed. “The one by the break room has fake plants all along the ceiling. It must be horrendous to dust. I was hoping for another of those fish tank tunnel extravaganzas, but no luck.” He took in the silent and coat-swaddled forms of his coworkers. “You lot look cold,” he exclaimed, spreading his metal arms. “Who needs a warm hug?”
“Don’t you dare,” Elliot said as Hubcap moved closer with a threatening grin. “I know perfectly well that you don’t have any heating coils.”
“Ah, you’re no fun,” the robot said. “You’re lucky I’m not made for cold-weather rescue; those guys are bulky and inelegant. Got compartments for blankets and everything. A far cry from my svelte splendor.”
He posed with one arm upraised until Elliot told him he looked like a teapot.
“Well you look like a tofu hot dog,” Hubcap retorted, dropping the pose. “Did you remember sunscreen? The weather will warm up later, and we don’t want your delicate skin to suffer damage.”
Elliot rolled his eyes while the camera crew snickered. “Yes, I remembered sunscreen. I’ve only had pale skin my whole life.”
“Did you cover your ears?” Hubcap pressed the redhead.
“Yes.”
“And the back of your neck?”
“Yes.”
“And the—”
“Hubcap,” Elliot said. “I even got my shoulders in case I need to take my shirt off. I’m good.”
“Okay fine, but did you—”
“Say, is that coffee?” Elliot said, turning to address the local man walking over with a tray of mugs. The other humans hurried to meet him halfway. Elliot walked away from the conversation that he’d had many times, in many different forms, which got a bit tiresome. He knew that Hubcap couldn’t help being a little mother-hen towards people that he cared about, and also that Hubcap would have scoffed loudly at being accused of caring for the fragile meat creatures that he worked with. Elliot didn’t hold it against him. The robot had been a regular citizen for years now, but he was still finding his way. And Elliot knew that he cared, despite the way he would have loudly enjoyed making fun of Elliot for getting sunburned.
The coffee cups were disappearing quickly as Elliot approached.
“Are there any options?” he asked. “Or all standard brew?”
“Your options are ‘Yes’ and ‘No,’” the man told him, holding out a cup picked at random.
“Then thank you very much,” Elliot said as he took the cup. He kept his preference for hot chocolate to himself. His silent crewmates collected their own warm drinks, becoming more animated as they did.
“Mm, alien coffee,” murmured Tarja, holding the mug in both hands.
“Alien, nothing; this stuff’s Brazilian.” The employee with the tray of cups leveled a stern glare at the TV people. “You guys better not be the type to call everything ‘space food’ and ‘space clothes’ and ‘space forks.’”
“Don’t forget the space toilets,” said Graham, looking around. “Speaking of which, Hubcap, where’d you say the nearest was?”
The local muttered about tourists and simply pointed, beating Hubcap to it. Graham downed the rest of his coffee and hurried away with a nod of thanks. The other camera jockeys sipped their warm drinks while the man took the tray away and the locals continued bustling around them.
“Strong stuff,” Tarja said. “Is it hot enough to be proper coffee, Vic?”
Vic swallowed a mouthful and breathed steam. She gazed down at the smaller woman. “Almost. Proper coffee should hurt.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Tarja said. “As long as it’s warm and caffeinated, it’s proper enough for me.”
Elliot muttered into his mug, gripping it with both hands and feeling his fingertips thaw. “Yes. Warm good. Caffeine nice too.”
“Especially today,” Dale put in, looking nervous. “Today sounds dangerous.”
“With precautions, that’s a good thing!” Vic said, raising her coffee. “Here’s to a fine day of filming, and an episode that will put us at the top of the ratings chart.”
“Cheers,” Tarja agreed, clinking cups.
Elliot nodded. He waited to see if Dale would argue about the danger, but the younger man focused instead on his drink, making a visible effort to ignore Hubcap’s comments. The robot was casting pointed looks in Dale’s direction while speculating about the alien creatures they would be facing off with soon.
Elliot was glad that his co-host was pestering someone else for the moment. He sipped his own coffee and thought for the umpteenth time that it was a pity no one ever served hot chocolate at these work sites. Graham rejoined them moments before the crew chief made an appearance.
“Step lively, kids!” exclaimed the thin blond man who looked a bit young to use such a greeting. He was dressed in khakis, and almost as pale as Elliot. “We’re off in five. I’m Owen Cosgrove.” He stopped in front of the newcomers for handshakes all around. “Nice to meetcha. How was the harvesting yesterday?”
“Full of excitement,” Vic told him.
“Good, good. Ready for a day of wrangling venomous beasties?”
“Why, that is our favorite thing,” Hubcap declared with an arm around Elliot’s shoulders.
“You bet,” Elliot agreed, his fingers tightening on the coffee cup of their own accord.
“Great.” Owen grinned. “Today should be a lot of fun! Let’s find you some armor, then we can get going.”
––––––––
The gray, full-body armor was not comfortable to ride in, but at least Elliot could appreciate the scenery. The rattletrap aircar was an open-top model that made for an unobstructed view. He changed position in his seat, wind whistling over his helmet as he tried to focus on the piercing sunrise over the mountains rather than the way the metal plates dug into his legs. When the ocean came into sight in the other direction, he was struck with an odd feeling of relief at its similarity to the ones he knew on Earth.
Elliot gave the ocean his full attention. The colors of the wind-smoothed rocks behind him felt slightly wrong somehow, too dark or too mismatched next to the purple-tinged plantlife. But the water was blue with little white-tipped waves, just as it should be. Today promised to be full of dangerous things that were entirely new to him, but that was the name of the game in this job. It helped to find touchstones of familiarity.
Across the aisle, Hubcap was pointing out an unsteady-looking rock formation and talking about a rescue that it reminded him of. Hubcap always talked, and that was familiar too. The day he sat quietly for more than a minute would be the day that something was really wrong.
The camera crew were largely ignoring the robot, focused on getting background footage with the audio turned off. All that wind played hell with the microphones. Vic had suggested filming Owen during the ride, getting a rundown on the animals they would be dealing with, but it was too much for even their best tech to filter out.
The aircar came in for a landing on a rocky hilltop with a view of the shore. The dozen locals and half dozen rookies all piled out, everyone stomping to settle their armor back into place except for Hubcap. He had laughed at the idea of armor, and was laughing again now.
“Oh, it looks even better in the sunlight!” the robot exclaimed. “Tarja, you’ve got to get a shot from this angle. Hold still, Elliot. Strike a pose. Your helmet has a glitter finish; did you know that?”
Elliot sighed and modeled for the camera. The viewers would find it funny.
Owen hopped onto a rock and called for everyone’s attention, his own helmet off for better communication. “All right! Everybody still have their SedEgg in reach?” he asked the crowd. There were murmurs of assent as everyone double-checked their special hip pockets. “Armor secure? Good. TV people, your job for now is to keep yourselves safe, and to sing out if you spot anything dangerous or useful. I’ll give you a quick rundown in a minute. Larry and Jerry, you ready to scout?”
A pair of workers nodded, identical in their armor except for vastly different heights. They took off on silent feet. At Owen’s behest, the rest of the locals prepared tools of the trade: bags, ropes, and odd-shaped items with no clear function.
Elliot stood aside with Hubcap while the camera crew filmed the goings-on. He wondered if Vic had told Owen about the urgency of their agenda, or if the crew chief thought today was business as usual for the TV show. Elliot vowed to keep an eye out for opportunities that would otherwise be missed.
Beside him, Hubcap narrated to the nearest camera a made-up list of explanations for the tools as the workers unpacked them. Elliot couldn’t decide whether to contribute believable uses or more outlandish ones, so he kept silent. It wouldn’t do to muddy the audio with unnecessary dialogue.
Owen hopped down and addressed the co-hosts. “I was going to tell you before about the animals here,” he said with an eye for the cameras. “We’re looking for anything poisonous, since most of the poison in this area can be used to make frenzy sedative. Of course, most of the toxic creatures here live in the water, so catching them can be tricky. The easiest way is to let the local predators do it, then steal from them. Not very sporting, but effective. Yes, a question in the front row?” He pointed to Hubcap, who had his hand in the air.
“Will we be tackling alien sharks and gutting them, or sneaking dead fish from bird nests? Comparatively speaking.”
Owen thought about it. “Neither,” he said. “More something in the middle. If you’ve ever tackled an ostrich and made it throw up, then you’re partway there.”
“That sounds awesome,” Hubcap said. “Bring on the ostriches!”
“Really, they look more like featherless pelicans,” Owen said. “Or pterodactyls. At any rate, they eat out of the sea and the tide pools, and at this time of day, they’re far ashore with bellies full of seafood. Much easier to catch.” He glanced up as a worker pointed out the stealthy return of the scouts. “Ah. One moment.” He went over to confer, leaving the camera crew to themselves.
Elliot straightened to attention when Vic took the opportunity to remind the others of the safety rules. Buddy system; watch each other as much as the camera screens; speak up about dangers. Elliot knew the rules well — they all did, but no one objected. Elliot was aware that if anything went wrong because of the crew’s negligence, it would be Vic who was blamed for it. Something else to remember for later, if/when he got to be a director someday.
When, he told himself. Not if.
“Let’s go, folks!” Owen called, dashing back to the aircar and grabbing a bag of supplies. “Big spear birds over the rocks there!” He waved toward the south.
Elliot looked southward while the locals grabbed their things, but he didn’t see much past the pale sandstone boulders. When the whole group moved out, he kept close to the camera crew and hurried in the direction that the scouts had gone. Despite shouting moments earlier, Owen urged everyone to be as quiet as possible in their approach.
This proved to be a challenge on the rough terrain. Dale and Tarja tried at first to film the running, but gave up in short order when Dale nearly pitched over a rock. Graham caught him, having never turned on his own camera.
“Sorry,” Dale muttered with a glance at Vic, his face a bright red behind his visor. The director just urged him onward, then moved to catch up with the rest.
Elliot kept quiet, but Hubcap wasn’t so reticent. “Good catch, Graham!” he congratulated the older man with a pat on the armored shoulder. “Way to save the young’un from denting the camera! His face would probably be fine, what with the classy robo-skin, but we don’t want to wreck any equipment right out of the gate! At least wait until a monster chews on it first!”
Elliot called back for the robot to keep up. Hubcap scoffed, then shut his mouth and outpaced him. Elliot smiled inside his helmet at the show of spite.
A red-striped sandstone cliff hid the locals from view as the TV crew approached. Hubcap took the lead, waving the others into silence as he peered over the edge. Elliot joined him to see a landscape punctuated with boulders that were distractingly full of holes. The locals were doing their best to hide behind these as they crept toward the several large animals that strode around the tide pools at the far end of the beach.
Elliot decided that they did look like big featherless pelicans, with long legs to let them walk through deep water. Their beaky faces held jaws full of teeth, which seemed more dangerous than actual beaks would have. As the humans eased forward, it became obvious that the spear birds were easily twice as tall as anyone there.
Owen was still at the back, whispering strategy with a pair of muscular workers. He waved for the camera crew to hurry and join him, pointing out the easiest way down the slope. Hubcap scurried down first, then waited with arms outstretched in case any of the humans slipped on the way down. None did.
Elliot was aware of the cameras filming when Owen gave him and Hubcap the rundown of the plan. He could almost hear the background music amping up.
“We’re going to move closer,” Owen said. “You guys meet at that big rock, and try to keep out of the way. We’ll be tackling the closest one. C’mon.” He broke cover and made a soft-footed dash for the next boulder. Elliot followed, senses alert. The air through his helmet vent smelled of tidepool salt, sand shifted under his boots, and his pulse was loud in his ears.
The closest spear bird was an elegant thing, colored in palest brown with delicate patterns along its back, and eyes of piercing blue — at least four of them. Weirdly beautiful. Very dangerous. Elliot shot admiring glances as he ran, watching the creature stride around the tide pools with repeated stabbing motions down at something that eluded it.
Elliot sank into a crouch behind the rock that Owen had indicated. He was glad that Owen wasn’t asking them to get involved just yet. It was becoming obvious that the plan of attack for stealing this thing’s lunch was a very low-tech approach.
“Are they seriously going to lasso it?” Hubcap asked as he slid down beside him. “Fantastic. Here, can you see?” He ducked lower so Tarja could film over his head. “I can’t wait. Cowboys never go out of style. Let’s do this.”
They did. The locals spread out and approached the preoccupied creature, all holding coils of rope in their heavily gloved hands. When they were as close as they could get without being spotted, Owen shouted and lassos sprang into the air.
The spear bird raised its head as the shadows twined around it, but this only served to put it in perfect position for at least three lassos to catch around its neck.
Elliot exclaimed as the calm scene exploded into thrashing spear bird and straining humans. Hubcap added a “Whoa, broncho!” while the other enormous birds took to the air in a tornado of wingbeats. The wranglers leaned into the wind. Several looped their ropes around boulders while some edged closer in hand-over-hand fashion, and others added more lassos to the mix. They had obviously done this before.
It didn’t take as long as Elliot had expected for the crew to get the spear bird pinned on the ground. They held its limbs down while Owen and two others straddled the neck. That was when Owen waved the TV crew forward.
Hubcap whispered, “Showtime,” and scampered ahead. Elliot followed at a cautious jog with his heart in his mouth and the cameras behind him. He kept an eye out in case the creature decided to throw everyone off with mayhem on its mind.
“I need one of you to get the facejack,” Owen said as Elliot approached, nodding towards the bag on his own back. His hands were occupied with holding the toothy maw shut against the ground.
“Facejack?” Elliot asked, eyes trained on the sharp teeth very close to his legs. Hubcap ignored the predator and unzipped the bag to pull out a strange metal contraption.
“To jack its mouth open,” Owen told him. “Now I’ve got him pinned; you go ahead and slide it onto his head from the front. No, the other way around.”
Elliot helped Hubcap get the thing oriented correctly, doing his best to ignore the very real threat to life and limb that kept trying to buck free. By the time they got the metal frame in place around its head, the spear bird wasn’t the only one breathing hard. Elliot had a fleeting thought that Hubcap was likely the only person present who wasn’t.
“Why aren’t we just sedating it?” Elliot asked as he followed Owen’s instructions to crank the jack open, baring the sharp teeth.
Owen shook his head. “Can’t. The sedatives that work on us don’t do much to them. Different physiology and all that. And no one’s fronted the money yet to make one that does work. So we do it the hard way; we just have to be quick. A little bit farther — there, that’s good enough. Now if you can get the barf bag out of my pocket here, and tent it over his face, we’ll be set.”
Hubcap did that part, opening the wire-rimmed plastic bag and placing it to catch anything that might be forthcoming.
“Perfect,” said Owen. “Now flip over that bit on the side there, and press it against the roof of his mouth. Push it a little farther, and...”
“Huerkk!”
Splat, splash.
“Ewwww.” Hubcap said it, but Elliot was thinking it. He was glad to let Hubcap handle the messy work.
“Well done! Now grab up the bag, careful not to spill — yes, twist it — and there’s just one thing left to do before we undo the jack. Elliot, if you can grab my chalker out of my other pocket here...”
Elliot followed the nod and elbow waggle to find a pocket with an oversized stick of kid’s chalk in it. “This?”
“Wow,” Hubcap said. “That there is some stylish day-glow.”
“Make a quick line across this guy’s face,” Owen instructed, gesturing with his head. “Across the snout, from teeth to teeth.”
“This way?” Elliot mimed the motion, and at Owen’s nod, he drew a bright orange stripe across the twitching jaw.
“Good. That will mark him for now as someone we’ve already pestered, then it’ll wash off by tomorrow. Let’s get the facejack off and leave this guy be.”
Elliot worked with Hubcap to quickly close and remove the jack. Hubcap stuffed it into Owen’s bag while Elliot returned the chalk, then the two co-hosts followed the example of the camera crew by retreating up the shore. Elliot ducked behind a rock.
The workers had managed to remove the lassos without freeing the creature yet. As soon as they were all at a safe distance, Owen called “Now!” He and the others leapt free, dashing for safety while the spear bird sat up and shook its head, flapping its wings and looking irritated but not overly hostile. It launched itself into the air while the humans gathered at the cliff and congratulated each other.
“Flawless performance, all!” Owen said. He took off his helmet and approached the rolling cameras. “Let’s see what we got for our troubles.”
Elliot joined the group as Hubcap held up the barf bag. Elliot removed his own helmet, anticipating seaside breeze, only to get treated to the stink of alien bile. He squinted and made a show for the cameras of waving away the smell.
Owen took the bag and untwisted it, looking inside with an exclamation of delight. He crumpled the bag to raise its contents without touching them. “Look at these fine specimens!”
The cameras gathered closer while jaded workers chatted in the background, having seen all this before. The pile of electric blue squishiness in Owen’s hands turned out to be a dozen different creatures, all with vibrant coloring and odd shapes. He managed to separate one from the rest by poking at it through the bag. Even sitting by itself, the thing was hard to make sense of.
“It looks like a salamander that wants to be a featherduster,” Hubcap said, inspecting the fluffy appendages.
“It’s a nudibranch,” Owen told him with a grin. “They’re actually very like the sea slugs at home on Earth.”
“Doesn’t look like any slug I’ve ever seen,” Elliot said. “No touching, right?”
“Right! They’re exceptionally poisonous to humans. Useful, but not something you want to touch. It’s surprising how similar they are to Earth creatures, which are fascinating in their own right. Marine biology is a subject full of bizarre creatures and odd beauty. Did you know—”
Elliot felt someone elbowing him in the side. He looked to see a brown-haired local man smirking with a nod toward Owen.
“Best never to get him started on the similarities between alien critters and Earth ones,” the man said. “Our boy here has the fanciest of credentials on the stuff, and can’t wait to share it.”
“Good tip,” Elliot murmured back. “Thank you.” He stepped forward to rescue the camera crew from an enthusiastic lecture about the habits of sea slugs. “So how many of those squishies should we aim to catch today?” Elliot asked.
“Oh, as many as we can,” Owen told him. “This is a pretty good haul for one spear bird, though we’ll want to get a few more, and see if there are some springmouth snakes to vomit as well.”
Hubcap straightened up. “Those sound fun!”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Owen said. “They can get big enough to swallow any of us here. Though they’d probably spit you back out. Anyways, let’s get this puke stowed...” He wrapped the bag tightly and stuffed it into a container in his backpack, which locked shut with an audible click. “...And find us some more spear birds! You boys ready to take part in the alien bird rodeo?”
“Me first!” Hubcap exclaimed.
“By all means,” Elliot agreed. “Him first.”
“Sounds good,” Owen laughed. “This way!” The cameras followed him like hungry ducklings.