Maiden Flight (with illustration)

[Viridian]

Maiden Flight
By Viridian

There were a lot of things Marie had to learn about surviving in the colonies. The utopia of Earth was a long way away – almost mythical. She recalled stories of a time when the people of Earth dreamt of space travel and encountering distant civilisations. Centuries later, the only civilisations they encountered were the numerous space colonies established by humans throughout the galaxy. There was still an infinite amount of space to explore, but so far no intelligent life forms. Of course, as a military freight pilot, Marie didn’t need to know about the science of life in the outer realms of space, and she found herself standing in front of the division headquarters. A legacy of humanity’s military might, the headquarters stood out, being constructed of various metals to form tall monuments to the struggles of humankind on Earth and in space. In the spacious fields around the headquarters, troops still practiced the drills of old, though the old-fashioned ballistic weaponry twirled around by the drill platoons were merely relics of the distant past.

The interior seemed more spacious. While some groups protested that the headquarters took up far more space than was necessary – and living space being a premium in the colonies – there was no mistaking that this was the centre of the strength of mankind. Turbolifts took visitors to any office for any purpose, and the foyer was a long marble hall with portraits of Earth’s leaders. Flags hung along each side of the hall. Where they were once national flags of countries of old, there were now emblems of the many republics and colonies that have sprung up in the past century. The headquarters felt more like a capitol building than a military structure, but that was simply the importance the military had on galactic affairs.

Marie exited the turbolift and entered the quartermaster’s office. The door slid open to reveal a mahogany desk and the quartermaster – a middle-aged officer in a traditional green uniform. Marie stood at attention and saluted.

‘Lieutenant Renoa, reporting for duty, sir,’ she said.

‘At ease, Lieutenant,’ said the quartermaster. The name tag on his desk revealed his name to be Colonel Robert G. McMahon – a name with ancient Earth roots that distinguished Earth-born families from the outlanders, like Marie. Colonel McMahon typed a few commands on his computer and brought up Marie’s profile.

‘Your service has been impeccable lately, Lieutenant,’ he began. ‘I know being in transport and logistics tends to be ungratifying, but you are to be commended on your qualities.’

‘Thank you sir,’ said Marie.

Actually, Marie didn’t mind the tedium of being in the 44th Logistics Company. She never found herself in danger, and the eventless trips back and forth allowed her to see new places and discover new things. She was perhaps the only member of the company that actually wanted to be there, and Colonel McMahon could sense this enthusiasm. The colonel walked around the desk and removed her officer’s badge, replacing it with another one.

‘Effectively immediately, you are now promoted to the rank of Captain. Congratulations, Captain.’ He shook her hand and smiled. ‘Now, onto business. As a Captain, you are now permitted to pilot solo missions. I know, the flyboys in the 101st get to pilot combat vessels before they learn how to walk, but this is important. We’ve received word from Base X-Ray Alpha that they’re short on supplies and that they expect an attack from the Outside.’ The Outside was parlance for anything that wasn’t controlled by humanity, but usually meant bandits and outlanders who preyed on outposts and colonies. ‘I’ve personally recommended you for this mission. You’ll be flying solo to X-Ray Alpha, but it’s friendly space, so don’t worry about being attacked. Once there, you are to report to Major Lerio. He has indicated that he needs a capable combat pilot, and that person is you.’

Marie gaped. Combat? She never asked for a combat role, let alone be promoted. Every pilot underwent combat training, but Marie did averagely in the simulations. Why her? These questions went through her mind as she was dismissed and went to her quarters to prepare for her mission. The first phase was familiar territory – the freighter was already loaded and only needed to be set in the right course before the computer did the flying. It was the thought of being in combat that worried her.

The new captain sorted through her belongings before embarking on her mission. The shipment was a load of weapons and other supplies, fitting for its destination. Marie didn’t have a lot to carry on board – she kept all her items in a standard-issue portable locker, which contained some photographs and documents. She wore her uniform – the dark red of the 44th Logistics Regiment. Military uniforms had gone back to their historical bright colours, since the frontiers of space did not require the dull khaki traditionally used by the army, though officers still wore khaki and green dress uniforms. Her uniform had nothing on it apart from her name label, regiment patch and her new captain’s tab. Perhaps her combat deployment would get her some medals and ribbons. That was a welcoming thought. On the flip side, the frontier had a shortage of many other items, among which was lingerie. Apparently nobody manufactured it outer space and the military didn’t issue any, being predominantly male. Marie therefore wore nothing underneath her blouse, and most of the time went commando beneath her thigh-length skirt. Fortunately, she spent most of her years on female-only transport crews, and many women in the service had to endure the same discomfort.

Once the coordinates were programmed into the navigation computer, the trip became boring. The freighter more or less looked after itself, which was the sole reason why it was only crewed by one person. In fact, if it weren’t for the need to make sure it wasn’t going off course for any reason, it wouldn’t even need to be manned. Being alone made the trip unbearably monotonous. At the current velocity, it would take around 24 hours. With no one to talk to, Marie wondered how freighter pilots dealt with the boredom. No wonder logistics was the dregs of military life. Her fingers wandered up the hem of her skirt, and suddenly Marie found an advantage in being alone on a ship. Time passed as she rested, ate and entertained herself in complete privacy.

Marie’s personal gratification was interrupted by an incoming call; the first contact she had since the journey began. Marie swore under her breath; her crotch moist from her amusement and her fingers covered with the evidence. Luckily the comm was non-video.

‘Captain Renoa reporting,’ she said in a slightly shaky voice.

‘This is Major Lerio. We’ve picked you up on our screens. What is your situation? Over.’

Marie mused over the idea that, for centuries, people were still using the same radio conventions. You could fly a person into parts unknown, but you couldn’t establish a better way of talking to each other. ‘All fine, sir,’ she replied. ‘ETA one hour.’

‘Proceed with caution, Captain,’ Major Lerio continued. ‘We have reports of hostile activity in the area. Check weather conditions before you begin landing sequence. Out.’

Marie opened up the weather info-panel with one hand while she searched for something to clean her other hand. She also had to relieve herself, so she left the control panel and answered the call of nature in the freighter’s lavatory. There, she found herself distracted again by her explorative fingers.

‘Damn it, Marie!’ she thought to herself. ‘Snap out of it. You’re a pilot, not a sex maniac!’

As if to remind her, the freighter suddenly shook violently. Marie rushed out of the lavatory to find that all hell had broken loose at the control panel. Sensors were offline, alarms were going haywire, and all comms were down. Marie swore at herself and tried to regain control. Nothing responded. She could feel the ship spiralling towards the ground. She tried the emergency wavelength, but with the freighter losing power she was unable to raise anything more than a beacon. Her next option was the eject button.

It didn’t work.

She pressed it again and again. Normally the cockpit, which served as an escape pod, would detach itself from the rest of the craft and provide a soft landing for the occupants. Marie could see the ground through her windscreen – large expanses of lush, green jungle. Hundreds of things went through her head – was she under attack? Was the atmosphere safe for human survival? Was she going to survive the crash landing? The lights in the cockpit were all red. In training, when the lights went red, you were dead.

Marie didn’t die. At least, not instantaneously. The large ship hurtled through the treetops, smashing everything in its path. The freighter was stronger than Marie thought. She just might make it through. The freighter slammed into a rock, sending it careening back up. Marie was thrown around in her seat, her safety belt preventing her from being seriously injured. The ship rolled and collided with something else, sending it spiralling and tumbling. The alloy frame twisted, contorted and in some places tore apart as the freighter continued to crash through the vegetation like a child’s toy. Marie was about to black out from the multidirectional forces. The craft came to a stop. The last thing she remembered was a light on the control panel turning green, and the ejection engines activating.

She regained consciousness some time afterwards. Her head felt a little dizzy, but she had no immediately noticeable injuries. She was in some sort of hut, with her arms and legs bound. Her uniform was somewhat damaged – her blouse was torn in several places and her skirt was had a tear up the side. Her leather boots were gone too. Trying to orientate herself, Marie presumed that she had been captured by the bandits they were fighting. After all, a rescue team wouldn’t have tied her up and removed the most valuable thing on her – military issue boots. She had been briefed about the Outsiders and their scavenging habits, and military boots were third on the list, after weapons and medical supplies.

Someone entered the room. It was a middle-aged man with long, wavy hair and an eyepatch. He was wearing old-style camo fatigues and carried an assault blaster, one of the old surplus models that were sold cheaply after the military moved onto a newer version.

‘About time you woke up,’ he said in crisp, clear language. His clarity was surprising to Marie. But then, she thought, he was as human and civilised as she was; not some alien. ‘The boss will speak to you.’

The boss? He looked bossy enough. Her ropes were removed and she was escorted to a larger hut. The bandit leader looked a lot more like a president than a bandit. He had neatly cut hair, was clean-shaven and dressed in a rather nice shirt. Side-by-side, the two bandits looked like completely opposites.

‘Ah, Captain Renoa,’ he greeted politely. ‘I’m glad you are awake and safe. I was afraid you had sustained grievous injury, but the doctors said you were fine. I’m glad we can still trust in the old ways of medicine where technology fails us.’ Marie wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she thought it was better than she hear him out instead of making her stay unwelcome. ‘I suppose I should enlighten you on recent events,’ the leader continued. ‘You were violating our airspace and, considering that our nations are in a state of war, we were obliged to neutralise your threat. We found your escape pod some distance away from your craft, though I’ve been told that there was some difficulty in getting you out.

‘The cargo you were carrying has been appropriated into our armoury for better use. By rights we should treat you as a prisoner of war and hold you as such, but as a sign of goodwill, I am willing to release you back to your nation.’

‘What do you mean?’ Marie asked, shocked at what the man had to say.

‘You are a long way from home, I sense. Youth like you shouldn’t be forced to fight older men’s wars. Besides, you did deliver us enough supplies to last us for months, so consider this a sign of our thanks.’

Marie felt her face turn red with indignity. The man was polite, but he had nerve – the tactful, diplomatic sort that she hated. So did her superiors. ‘Are there any conditions on my release?’ she asked.

‘None,’ the leader replied. ‘Except that you will need to make your journey to your troops alone. I’m afraid your comrades are not in the mood to negotiate anything with us, so a hostage transfer is out of the question. I’m sure you want to be on your way as soon as possible, so my lieutenant here can show you the direction to walk towards. You’ll reach your base sooner rather than later, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you exactly where we are.’

‘Wait,’ Marie found herself interrupting. ‘Why are you letting me go? Wouldn’t I just tell my superiors about your plans?’

The leader looked at her with surprise. Marie thought she had overstepped something, but the man simply laughed. ‘It’s simple, Captain. We’re going to win the war, and there’s nothing you can say or do that will change that outcome. You could tell us where we are, if you knew, but that would simply get many men and women slaughtered. There is more to war than whoever has the most men, or the most weapons. This planet is our home. Your troops will fight more than just people. They will have to fight against the planet. We cannot be defeated. Remember that.’

Something’s up with this guy, Marie knew. Rule number one in any domination plan is not to tell your enemy what you’re doing, unless it’s some sort of scare tactic. Maybe it was. Maybe he was playing with her head. Still, something didn’t feel right about letting her go free. The one-eyed lieutenant led her out of the building and guided her out of the rebel base. The base itself was constructed in the midst of the jungle, where it was impossible to see from above. It looked like she would have to traverse this jungle to get back to her lines. Barefoot, no less. She was about to ask the lieutenant about her boots when she realised he was wearing them. Best not to ask then.

‘Walk straight that way,’ he said, pointed somewhere into the distance. ‘Maybe turn left or right somewhere. I don’t know where you hide your guys.’

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘And watch your step.’

He turned and walked back, leaving the captain alone. Great, she thought. Stranded with no food or water, and no weapons. At least she hadn’t been tortured or killed. She just had a sickening though about what the bandits might have done to her while they were pulling her out of the cockpit. As she trekked through the jungle, she thought about what the leader said about fighting the planet. What did he mean? The planet wasn’t alive, and if it was, there’s always something in the arsenal designed for global destruction. What a man can’t do with a energy rifle, a fleet can do with an orbital bombardment.

Marie stopped in her tracks. She found that her bare feet were sinking into the soft ground – a yellow-grayish mud which seemed to dominate the jungle floor. She had stepped into a particularly deep spot where she sank to her knees. Marie scolded herself for not paying attention. She recalled her training – survival and evasion was something all pilots had to learn in the event of being shot down over enemy territory, which she had been. It also taught her about how to evade capture. She was already captured and had been released, so that part didn’t apply. That left survival. The key principle was to constantly assess the situation – enemy presence, supplies, friendly forces, terrain. She had to admit she was one of those people who believed it would never happen to her.

The mud belched and she felt her legs slip deeper. Alarmed, Marie leaned back and pulled her legs free. Her feet came up with a thick slurp and she landed on her backside, feeling more mud soak into her already-ruined skirt. She got up and wiped the muck from her legs. The mud gurgled. Marie blinked. Did the mud move by itself? The disturbed patch was turning back into the featureless surface it was before she fell in. Marie gulped. She had been briefed on this danger too – quicksand. While traditional understandings of quicksand revealed that one wouldn’t actually get sucked under, the different terrain encountered by humans in their exploration of the cosmos revealed many similar substances that did not obey the same rules. Marie wondered if she had been intentionally led into this trap.

Marie sought a way around. The terrain was rugged and difficult to navigate. She was hungry and thirsty, but the strange plants she encountered didn’t look edible – or safe. The presence of bones by a bunch of large, sweet-smelling flowers revealed a deadly trap of nature, and Marie steered clear of it. Hours of trekking resulted in little progress. Marie was walking in large circles trying to avoid hazards and she had no idea if she was still heading in the right direction. It was now late in the afternoon, as far as she could tell. The sky was darkening and the jungle felt cooler. The thought of spending the night out here actually scared her. She had to look for shelter. A tall tree with large roots provided that, so she crawled into gaps and tried to find a comfortable position. She was feeling weary, and within minutes she dozed off.

She woke up with a stir. There was still dim light shining through the treetops. She had only closed her eyes for half an hour at most, but something didn’t feel right. Was someone tracking her? Marie decided to have a peek outside. Except, she couldn’t move. She was lying on her back with her arms pinned by her sides; held in place by the knobby roots. How did she get into this position? She twisted and squirmed, trying to free herself. Instead, she felt her torso being squeezed. The roots creaked and vibrated. Marie gasped. The roots were definitely moving – trapping her in a vice-like grip and squeezing the air out of her.

There wasn’t much time. Marie kicked and pushed with her legs, which had not yet become snared by the roots. Her bare feet dug into the moist earth and she forced her upper body through the shrinking gap. Her breasts barely squeezed through. She slid arm free and used it to get more leverage, pulling the rest of her body free. She immediately crawled out of the roots, which had by now formed a cage. She escaped in time to see the roots shrink, trapping whatever creatures rested in the tree’s shade. Marie had escaped death again, though her blouse and skirt were torn to shreds during her desperate struggle.

But she wasn’t out of danger. Trees, of course, have little use for the flesh of captured animals. Their corpses would return nutrients into the soil, but the flesh went to the predators that co-existed with the trees, consuming whatever the tree trapped. Marie could hear one of those predators now – heavy footsteps, grunting and gnarling. She didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. She ran. The vegetation scratched her skin and tore at her clothes; her breasts bounced uncontrollably and painfully. She tripped and fell onto her stomach. Behind her, the beast roared, seeing its prey escape and chasing after its supper. Marie picked herself up and bolted through the dense undergrowth, climbing and crawling where she had to. She sprinted towards a section of open ground. She couldn’t see that it was actually a steep drop.

The sudden, painful landing never came. Instead, her fall ended in a thick, soft squelch. She had landed in a large patch of mud that not only sucked her down to her thighs, but also quaked and rippled over a much wider area, drawing her deeper with each second. Marie gasped as her legs plunged straight through and continued to sink, finding nothing solid underneath. She knew she was in quicksand. She turned her head back to see whether the predator was still after her. She couldn’t see it, and the only thing she could hear was the ominous sucking of the quicksand. The quicksand was rapidly proving to be the bigger threat as she slipped deeper. The edge of the quicksand was a few strides away. Marie tried lifting her leg out. Surprisingly, the quicksand relinquished its grip on her legs easily. She couldn’t raise her leg above the surface, but she was able to wade through the quicksand with little effort. It was like moving through zero-gravity, except that the quicksand had a much grittier feel. She was able to get halfway to the edge before she sank to her hips. The quicksand suddenly thickened, rendering her legs immobile. Her momentum carried her forward, but her movements were driving her down. The quicksand slurped against her bare crotch, sending an unpleasant shiver through her body. She bit her lip. In other circumstances, this wouldn’t be so bad. She had to get her head out of the gutter – it was, after all, her fantasies and boredom that got her into this mess.

Marie twisted her hips and rocked back and forth. Nothing seemed to loosen the quicksand, which seemed to be getting denser. Her skirt disappeared into its slippery grip. The mud flowed freely around her lower body, pulling her deeper with each passing minute. Marie fought the urge to panic. She was trained to survive – though escaping from quicksand on alien planets was not on the course. There was only a short stretch of quicksand left to cross, but she was waist-deep and sinking fast. She considered using the remains of her blouse to snag something, only there wasn’t anything in reach. It was beginning to darken. Soon it would be night and she would be trapped in the mire, possibly submerging before any help could arrive. How would anyone know where to find her? She would go down as another MIA in the war against the Outside People. The quicksand filled her navel. Despite the density of the bog, she knew she wouldn’t float in this substance. It would suck her in no matter what she did. She had to go for the shore.

maiden_flightqs.jpg

Summoning all of her strength, she ploughed through the thick mud. She used her arms as shovels, scooping the sucking quicksand away from her and thrusting her buried legs forward. The next three strides were agonising, and costly. In that short distance, she was up to her breasts and her arms were buried in the quicksand. Her muscles ached. She couldn’t get her arms back up. Gasping, she could only watch helplessly as her heaving breasts first rested on the surface, and then slowly were consumed by the hungry sands. It crept over her erect nipples and filled her cleavage. She struggled feebly, knowing that time was running out. If that wasn’t enough to demoralise her, the sudden appearance of her hunter at the quicksand’s edge sealed her fate.

She looked at her predator with awe. Large, muscular and bipedal, the hunter was a beast she had never seen before. It looked reptilian, had thick black hide, long arms that ended in three sharp talons, and a long head two curved horns. It was twice as tall as her and smelled like blood mixed with rotten flesh. It was terrifying...and it looked terrified. It glared at her, watching her sink to her doom, scared that its meal was disappearing before its eyes. A thick, dark liquid was oozing from its nostrils, mouth and neck. Then, Marie swore she saw it sway. It opened its mouth, but instead of a roar, it whimpered. To her utter dismay, Marie witnessed the mighty hunter topple headfirst into the quicksand. It remained motionless, and not even air bubbles could be seen. It was dead.

So there are bigger things in the jungle, she thought as she watched the beast succumb to the same grave. The heavy corpse was disappearing quickly and might even submerge before she did. Then it struck her. Whatever fear she had of perishing vanished as her survival instincts took over. Slowly, she wriggled her arms free, sinking deeper each time. Next, she removed her tattered blouse. She was up to her armpits now. If she missed, she wouldn’t have another chance before she sank under the sucking sands. She tossed the flimsy garment and yelled out a cry of hope as it snagged onto the curved horn. She gave it a tug. The horn, luckily, was not sharp, but she knew her blouse wouldn’t hold for long. Slowly, she pulled herself towards the creature’s head, which was quickly submerging. Marie grabbed the horn as soon as she could reach it. The rest was a trial of her speed and endurance. Already exhausted from her pursuit and struggle, she now had to pull herself onto the sinking corpse and run along it to safety before it sank out of sight. The quicksand was reluctant to let go. She grunted as she heaved her chest onto the predator’s neck. She could feel the blood smearing over her naked body. She could wash it off later. The body was nearly gone – only a few small islands remained where its joints were still above the surface. Ignoring the pain in her legs, she jumped off the head and landed on a shoulder. She repeated the move again from shoulder to shoulder, to spine and to hip. The last leap wasn’t enough to reach the edge. She landed with a splat and immediately sank to her thighs again. Shouting in despair, she scrambled towards the edge using everything she had. Adrenaline was rushing through every vessel in her body as she swam and clawed. This was her last fight. The quicksand swallowed her waist, her chest, her shoulders. She could just feel the edge of the pit as her face was pulled under, submerging her into its unknown darkness.

When she next opened her eyes, the sunlight pierced the jungle canopy. It was day. Marie coughed and choked – her throat was parched and her nostrils were filled with mud. Her upper body was coated in dry, flaking mud and her lower body was still in the pit. Marie breathed a sigh of relief. Clutching onto a nearby root, she finished the job by pulling her legs out of the bog, which was content with its bigger prize and let the pilot go. She sat by the trap that nearly claimed her life. She was hopeful now that she would find safety and return home. For now, she was naked, and she was hungry. The journey back was only beginning.

[PM2K]

Fantastic! Thanks, Viridian. A great story, with illustration to match.

[quagmire_uk]

A great story! Using the corpse of the beast as an island was a nice twist. And a nice "realistic" depiction of an alien carniverous plant. (Rather than some big venus fly trap. Though gotta admit, do like that sort too...)

[AyaneMatrix]

An impressive story and great sinking scenes Viridian, especially for the parts talking about her being barefoot.

And major kudos for the image of Marie sinking into quicksand. It certainly added to the story.

[nachtjaeger]

Great work! My kind of story!

[Sandyandy]

Awesome story there. I think the picture was a great addition.

[Lomax]

Interesting - and clearly set up for a Part Two.

There's been very little Sci-Fi quicksand - perhaps this will start a trend.

[jack c]

Viridian - another well written story with imagination interwoven. I always enjoy your writing. Keep it up.