Page 19 of When Eden Falls

Why did he always do this to me? Innocent moments like this became torturous.

His lips eventually curved upward, and he pulled away. “It has a ring to it, don’t you think? Commander Riley.”

Still batting away the image of those lips against mine, I forced a smile and began pouring the hot water from the kettle into the cups. Rooke stepped around me, opening the food compressor, pulling out several warm bread rolls.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said. “There must be some form of intelligent life here.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Captain Lewison mentioned that their ship was domineered by a probe-like entity, which guided them here. Well…where did it come from? Someone must’ve despatched it?”

“I have thought about it. I’ve asked Troy to check the satellites in orbit, to see if any are active. He hasn’t found any live ones so far. It may have been a stray from several millennia ago.”

“I doubt that’s possible. Someone must have sent that probe out. With those beasts roaming around, I’m starting to wonder if it could’ve been a cry for help.”

“Really? I was actually thinking the opposite. I’m wondering if it was a trap…to lure us in.”

I chuckled. “Now who’s being the sceptic?”

“There are giant flesh-eating beetles outside, munching on our ship. I have a right to be sceptical.”

“Fair point.”

He gently bumped my shoulder with his. “We balance each other out, you and me. You’re the yin to my yang. We work well together. We always have.”

I hummed my approval. Yes, we worked well together, but that didn’t help with my everlasting internal battle of wills and wants.

We returned to the analysing room with the food. A cluster of makeshift beds were made up in the middle of the room, and a lowseated area of cushions had been placed up against one of the curving desks in one corner.

Oz lay on one of the beds, his good arm across his eyes. Rooke squatted next to him. “Here, buddy, have something to eat.”

Oz eyed Rooke, then the food, and grimaced as he hauled himself upright. He took a bread roll and started nibbling on it. I frowned at his unusual behaviour. He was renowned for being a gannet. That roll would normally have been devoured in two bites. I couldn’t help noticing his deathly pale complexion. A fine sweat misted his neck and forehead and his limbs seemed laboured with every movement.

Placing a cup of soup on Kobe’s desk, I lingered, observing his work. Using the cameras, he was taking screen shots of the creatures roaming outside, creating a calculated 3D digital illustration of a specimen. Scales covered the upper part of the body structure, the colour ranging from white to brown. The underside was lined with abdominal segments where the six rigid legs jutted out, and those skeletal fingers flexed in several places. The four eyes and mouth were flat against the front of the wide head, the fangs protruding at a vicious angle.

Zamya appeared next to me, sipping on her soup. “What I’d give to dissect one of those beasts.”

“I’m not sure how easy they are to kill,” Kobe mumbled, without removing his gaze from his work. “Oz and Rooke shot a couple last night, but they seemed unaffected, or just scarpered away.”

Zamya chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their injured become their prey. They reek of primal cannibalism.” She began to walk away. “But I guess we’ll never find out as we’ll be back on The Orka this time tomorrow.”

I exchanged a look with Kobe. A part of me hoped Troy would see sense and oppose the suggestion of using the dropship.

Long, tedious hours ticked by. It was zero two hundred Earth hours. Oz and Zamya were asleep on separate beds in the centre of the room, Kobe snoozed in his desk chair, while Rooke sat atthe comms desk with Cora next to him, both reading from one of her dozens of books. The power had gone out over an hour ago, but, thankfully, the backup systems kicked in without issue.

I sat on the makeshift couch in the corner, my back propped up against the cushions with several guns cluttering the desktop above me. I had gotten used to the gnawing sounds still reverberating through the ship. Occasionally, the sound merged in with the background noise of the computers, almost disappearing from all acknowledgment. But sleep continued to evade me.

From under my weary eyelids, I watched Rooke walk over. Sitting down beside me, he placed an A4 pad on my lap. I rubbed my eyes and peered down at it. Recognising the thick, yellowing paper, I realised it was Sym’s sketch book. I straightened up in my seat, eyeing Rooke questionably.

“Take a look,” he said.

On opening the front cover, I discovered an amazing pencil sketch of Zamya’s face. Everything about it was exquisite. Her frown, her large dark eyes, the shape of her petite face and hooked nose. It was a perfect depiction of her. I glanced up at Rooke. He nodded, encouraging me to continue.

As I flicked through the pages, I found more and more sketches of different people filling the cartridge paper, all drawn by Sym. An old, rotund lady sat by a window, dressed in heavily patterned clothing. Three young, similar looking women laughed with each other. A teenage girl with dark braided hair played a violin. Her smile was a brilliant wide flash of teeth, similar to Sym’s. I could only imagine these women were Sym’s family. I remembered him telling me he had four sisters and a mother at home.

A sad thought jabbed its way through my mind. How many people had Sym left behind on Allura? How many people wouldn’t find out about his death for weeks, maybe months?

I continued, discovering more sketches of The Orka crew. Most were black or grey, but the odd one was drawn in colour. Cora being one of them. A vision of her sitting at her desk, smilingdown into a thick book, with a loose strand of her golden curly hair falling over her eyes. I smiled at the sentimental detail.