Cleve guides the rover through the opening at the lower end of the tilted Progenitor structure. There’s no door to close behind us, so when we get out of the rover, we’re dry but still exposed to the atmosphere. I feel the imbalance just as the others see it. Rolling in behind us is a foggy cloud of miasma, puffing out of the recently stirred up ground. It’s not as bad as a siege worm but still a threat to my friends, one which I’m indirectly responsible for. Despite my concerns about how much I’ve already shook things up, I throw my hand out. With that gesture, I push the miasma back outside. It was my right hand, but pain crinkles and cracks through the other arm snug against my chest. Every healing fissure of those bones is momentarily lit up. I grit my teeth and wait it out. The miasma dissipates, hammered back down by the torrential rains outside.
We don’t know how long the storm is going to last, but we’ll be safe in here for the duration. Marina tells us that sometimes these afternoon monsoons can go on for hours. Cleve shrugs. “We can wait it out,” he says.
Our craw friends don’t feel as safe here as we do. Having done what we asked her to, Shroomnuts scampers off with her taser prize. Bluebell swivels an eye after her friend, watching her go, but stays next to me. I crouch down to be at eye level with her, concerned that it’s the resonance link between us that is keeping her here against her better judgment. She seems nervous, and I don’t want to put her in danger. My cane handle is warm in my hand as I steady myself.
She swivels her right eye back, so that both of hers are looking into both of mine. I shiver runs down my spine, and I’m momentarily assaulted by an old sense memory, my least favorite collection of odors: damp dirt, acrid rust, salty blood. The despair of being trapped and alone. Is that why Bluebell doesn’t like this place? Does she have a fear of dark, tight, enclosed places? I can relate to that.
“You’re welcome to come with us if you have more things to show us in here, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to. I understand that places like this can be scary. I’ve been trapped underground before. It’s not nice,” I tell her. My eyes sparkle as I lean on the link between us, not to hold Bluebell here, but to get my meaning across to her.
Bluebell doesn’t take the easy out I offer her. She wants to conquer her fear. But she also wants me to understand what we’re walking into. Clack, clack. She spins around and rears up onto a few of her back legs, making herself as tall as she can, throwing her claws out wide to take up more space. She clacks rapidly, in angry bursts. There’s a flash, a moment when I see what she’s depicting, an enormous craw, eyes glowing demonic red. There is something wrong with this craw.
“Demon craws?!” I say, incredulous.
Bluebell drops down, spins around, and with another clack, clack is herself again. She’s told me all she knows, and it’s second hand information. She’s never personally been inside; this is all just what Shroomnuts shared.
“Bluebell says the other craws are the danger here,” I tell Cleve and Marina as I straighten back up. “Shroomnuts told her about them. Some sort of scary, violent demon craws. Twice her size. She finds them unsettling. Not… natural.” I point at the helmet Marina is still carrying and ask Bluebell, “Big enough to crush that?” Clack, clack. “So, yeah, giant demon craws could be the cause of what happened to Ayumu. Maybe—and I’m just hypothesizing, she didn’t say this—but maybe there are craws here that the Progenitors experimented on.”
“Are they aliens?” Cleve asks.
“What does that mean, aliens?” I ask back. We’re on an alien world. Is everything here alien or are we?
“Did they come to this planet or are they indigenous,” Cleve clarifies.
“Oh, are craws? I don’t know if they were brought here or not.” We theorize for a bit. Could intelligent craws be the actual Progenitors who flew ships to this planet and those enormous skeletons we found belong to their prisoners? Bluebell gives a solitary clack now and then during this discussion, indicating she doesn’t know the answer to any of the questions we throw around.
“Are you boys coming or not?” Marina’s sudden question cuts in. While we’ve distracted ourselves with hypotheticals, she’s been studying the oversized door into the next room upslope, resolved to learn what happened to her missing friend. This door is similar in stature and style to the prison doors under our cryopod module, though not enough to suggest that this place had the same function. In addition to being akilter, the building has some structural damage. There are small cracks in the wall with the door, ones that a craw like Shroomnuts could have squeezed through.
“Should we be going in there, then, if there are giant demon craws that aren’t friendly?” Cleve asks.
“We can’t go anywhere while it’s pouring outside, so either we sit here doing nothing until then or we learn more about this planet,” I say. “I think there could be really important things to find here.” Information about Ayumu, if nothing else.
“If we die because we go into a battle we’re not prepared for, we’re not going to form an alliance,” Cleve points out. “We don’t have to go through that door just because we’re here. How prepared are we?”
“You’re right, Cleve,” Marina says, pausing in her work on the door. “We should have a plan. What are we looking for? What’s most important to bring out? How are we going to deal with these ‘demon’ craws or whatever? You’ve got a gun too, right?” She’s wearing a holstered pistol that she got from Data Haven.
Cleve grabs his rifle from the rover. “Hope it works against craws,” he mutters.
And me… I have a cane. Certainly I’ve used one as a weapon before when I’ve been in a tight spot, but I’m not sure how well this brand new one will stand up to a demon craw. “You have another taser?” I ask Cleve.
“You want to trade with them?” he asks me.
Clack. Bluebell signals her disapproval, and I echo, “No, not a good idea. I meant for me. When Bluebell and Shroomnuts were playing around with the taser, sure, it didn’t do much to them. But targeted strikes could be more effective.”
“Yeah, you can have the taser, for sure,” Cleve agrees wholeheartedly. I think he’s relieved to have me actually carrying a real weapon for once.
Not that I’m thrilled about it myself. I slip my cane through the sling on my satchel and accept the stun rod from Cleve. “Stay behind me,” I advise Bluebell. Clack, clack, she agrees. There’s a note of reluctance in it, so I ask, “Would you feel better with something yourself?” All I have to offer her is my own cane. She scuttles over to the rear of the rover and easily pops the trunk. After a moment of rummaging through the toolbox there, she returns with a heavy metal rod, some sort of replacement part for the undercarriage. So, a craw has indeed walked off with a piece of our rover after all.
“Yeah, we’re all going to die,” Cleve mutters, taking in our motley crew as Marina opens the door.