The Rimes Trilogy Boxed Set by P R Adams

Author:P R Adams [Adams, P R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Promethean Tales
Published: 2016-11-14T07:00:00+00:00

32

28 October, 2167. Fourth planet of the COROT-7 system.

* * *

Despite his environment suit, Rimes could feel his temperature rising dangerously. The BAS indicated he was holding at thirty-eight point five Celsius. He was roasting on the endless gray-brown sand plains. Although the drugs weren’t killing him, they were enabling him to push his body hard enough that it would fail. His breathing was a roar in the confines of the helmet. He blinked away a torrent of perspiration and checked the time.

Eighty-six minutes before the sun started to set, assuming it was as predictable as the previous two nights.

He opened his helmet and slowed to a less-taxing jog, then a few minutes later to a fast walk. He sucked at the air, ignoring its foul smell. He scanned the horizon, spun and checked again. No green in front of him, no red behind him.

Did I die? Is this some sort of fever dream? How could I get ahead of them so far and not run into my own team?

With his breathing now even, he sealed his suit again. Diagnostics confirmed everything was functioning. Nonplused, he continued on, paying greater attention to the readings. He was closing in on the twelve klick mark, about what he’d expected from the others before they would stop for a short rest.

As he approached the edge of a hollow, he began jogging again, hoping to gain ground on his team. He nearly stumbled when he saw Meyers and the others sitting in the center of the hollow some two hundred meters ahead.

At first, he feared they were a heat-induced hallucination. Not being able to raise them on his earpiece reinforced that fear. Nevertheless, he picked up the pace.

Watanabe saw him first and began jumping up and down, waving him on, returning to him some of the encouragement and hope he’d had for her. Her black hair bounced around her porcelain face. He blinked slowly and focused on his breathing. The mirage sustained.

Munoz stepped forward to embrace Rimes in a smothering hug when he reached the group. “Dean said you nailed one of them with a single shot at three hundred meters, Captain! Nice shooting!”

Meyers extended a hand. “Captain. We weren’t sure what to make of the long delay.”

Rimes expected them all to collapse into so much sand at any moment; they didn’t. “It looked like they might rush me for a bit.” He looked back at his bootprints. “Actually, for the last half hour, I thought I’d lost you somehow.”

Meyers followed Rimes’s eyes. “It’s some sort of dead zone. The deeper in we go, the more it affects us. No comms, the BAS is acting up, and Fontana’s on edge.” Meyers dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s pissing Theroux off. He’s been pouting ever since Fontana started complaining.”

Rimes examined them again. They were all worn and still showed wounds from the crashes and earlier engagements.

They were real. He really had found them.

Theroux seemed smaller, even more sullen than normal. He stared ahead with eyes narrowed to a microscopic slit.

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