A long series of plates passed by as they rose. These were a city block or larger on a side, with enormous arms to move the plate’s position. Beth felt that she was seeing the rear view of a giant array, devised to tilt the laminated wedges. Yet the huge areas were not thick. What could this be?

The mirror lands. They had seen those areas on their flight along the jet. Abduss had figured they reflected sunlight back onto the star’s hot spot, to boil the surface and drive the jet out. These plates, then, were able to tilt and yaw, adjusting the reflection of the mirrors on the other side from their Big Box elevator line. The whole array was like the smart telescopes Beth had seen, only not used to look at stars across interstellar distances. These drove their own sun through interstellar space.

The Big Box rumbled as it rose up the back of Cupworld, taking its time. Sometimes there was rattling thrust, sometimes not. The big alien Variety Three Bird Folk didn’t like heavy gravity, it seemed. No wonder, given their size.

They ate the food paste in their helmets, and thereafter went hungry. Not thirsty; the suits were made to recycle. They talked about food. They talked about whether they would starve. They wondered how much those huge aliens ate, and what they ate, and if humans could eat it, too. Occasional thumps, surges, rattles, hums. Mayra collected pictures of everything on her all-purpose phone, which had no reception, of course. She watched her team bear up.

Fred—was he watching everything? Or just wrapped within his own mind?

Nothing to do but look at one another and worry.

Their chronometers clocked four more days.

TWELVE

They slowed down as their adrenaline high faded. Cliff could feel the energy leak out of them. It left a sour taste in his mouth. They trotted, then walked. His own breath turned ragged, wheezing.

Cirrus clouds overhead fuzzed Wickramasingh’s Star into a gauzy reddish blur. Strange, layered forest lay in all directions. There were several decks to the high trees, separated by open air. Cliff wondered if these had evolved to allow the constant sunlight to reach separate layers as the tall trunks swayed in breezes. The oddly spray-topped trees were getting bigger as they moved over a ridge and down its slope. The trees were strange, often thick at the top and with rough bark.

He glimpsed plenty of birds flitting among the branches, and some very large, broad-winged ones hanging in the sky. Odd songs and squawks resounded in the high, thick canopy. At 0.8 g, it must be easier to stay aloft. Smaller birds flitted across the sky, too, in great chirruping flocks.

He suppressed the biologist in him and concentrated on seeing if they had pursuers. No sign of it, and the first two hours went without incident. All eyes surveyed the forest. Heads jerked at the sound of small things scrambling in the bushes. They were tense at first but slowly relaxed.

“We’ve got to live on the land,” Terry said at a break. “Conserve our supplies. Cliff, you’re the biologist. What can you see that we can eat?”

“Can’t tell at a glance, Terry. We need to do checks to see what here we can even digest. I’ve been looking for what’s chasing us.”

“Stay away from those aliens, right,” Aybe said. “We need to figure out what’s going on.”

Cliff had doubts as to what was possible, but kept quiet. This was a small group, and they had to learn to work together first, and stick to essentials. “How much food do we have?”

A quick inventory showed that he was carrying more than the others. They did carry gear that worked in concert, compact food, and not much else beyond personal gear, comm, and tool sets.

“Say, let’s hunt,” Irma said brightly. “I used to do that. Liked it.”

“Using what?” Terry’s expression told them he would not have expected her to be an outdoors type, though she was tall and strong. “Lasers take a while to recharge.”

Irma turned to show her hand-sized solar panel riding at her upper spine. “Mine’s already done recharging. Hunting is a good way to scope out the wildlife.”

“And vice versa,” Aybe the engineer said crisply.

“We should find water first,” Howard said, looking dry already, his clothes sweat-stained. His arm was healing fast and he showed few signs of any slowness. Vibrant health and response to treatment had been an essential in crew selection.

“We’re too easy to spot up here,” Cliff said, eyeing the horizon. “Water’s down below. Safer, anyway.”

They set off toward a denser stand of trees, using cover as they could, working down from the ridgeline. Irma insisted on taking the point position, hefting her laser intently, eyes jittery. After her came Aybe, and Cliff decided to give the man his own laser. He didn’t want to be the marksman and also have to scan the terrain, figuring things out as a biologist. As soon as he let go of the laser he felt downright naked, which was the point. Not having a weapon reminded him that he was not a hunter, but rather the wary, hunted stranger. They all were, but some didn’t know it yet.

Everyone seemed to accept Cliff as at least their temporary leader. It was best to appear pretty sure of yourself, he knew, so he did not share his own doubts.

So … What to do? Deal with the immediate. Learn, let time educate them all.

His first major decision came when he stumbled over a gnarled tree root and fell flat on his face. Getting up, tasting the sour taste of the soil here, he realized that he was tired. They all were.

His eyes felt grainy. “Let’s take a nap,” he said.

They groused a bit. Aybe was still pumped up with what Cliff judged to be adrenaline energy, but the others looked gray and drawn in the full daylight.

“How can we sleep in this glare?” Irma asked, fidgeting, ready to push on.

“In the shade.” Cliff said it flat and sure … and after a long moment, they accepted it.

Aybe said, “Let’s build a fire.”

“We could make some hot soup, tea,” Irma said, brightening.

Cliff shook his head. “The smoke will draw attention.”

Irma blinked. “From who? The aliens?”

Cliff nodded. “And maybe something else that we don’t know.”

“What’s our strategy here, then?” Aybe stood, hands on both hips. “Hide?”

“Yes. If we can.”

“For how long?”

That was the nub of it. “For now, yes. Get our bearings first. Then we’ll see.”

Aybe sniffed. “Not much of a strategy, I’d say.”

Cliff was tired, his back ached, and he didn’t want to deal with this now. “Luckily, you aren’t saying.”

Aybe shrugged and glowered. “What’s that mean?”

Cliff kept his voice mild. “We have to get oriented first.”

Aybe held the glower. “You’re giving plenty of orders here.”

Cliff sighed. He really was tired. “So I am. We’re in strange lands. I’m a biologist and the senior science officer in this team. Learn the life-forms first, find out what we’re dealing with—yeah, seems like a good strategy.”

“I don’t recall us electing you.”

Now Cliff shrugged. “This isn’t a constitutional convention.”

“I’ll say.” Aybe grimaced and opened his mouth to say more, and Irma broke in. “Running around here on our own, strange goddamn place, aliens, hell—where I come from, sounds like we’re cruising for a bruising.”

They all gave dry laughs and glanced at one another.

“Let’s get some rest, guys.” Irma looked at each of them in turn, beseeching.

Cliff nodded again. This issue wasn’t over, but it would keep. He might even remind them that he was first officer. Scientists didn’t pay much attention to chains of command usually, but this was not a lab.

Once they sat and ate, the momentum seeped out of them. They talked little and stared off into the distance—the forest that just felt strange and low valleys fuzzed by blue gray water and dust haze. The view was idyllic, still. A breeze blew through, aromatic and soft. Comforting. They were each still processing the dramatic events just past, trying to get some perspective. Too much had come at them too fast.