ONE
Molly Nevland
Molly Nevland’s boots thudded into the dusty soil, her feet squelching in her socks as though she were running through a bog. Weird insects descended in a glowing mass from the canopy as others swarmed from the undergrowth. Their chirps and hums created an unsettling symphony, which seemed to have been triggered by the passing of the day’s brutal heat.
Being young, diminutive and athletic meant she often carried out thankless tasks on behalf of her comrades, but it was an honour to serve. It was also said that she was fearless, a compliment she found hard to accept. Well, how could she, when it was most often applied to her discovery of those underground caves back home? People talked as though she’d single-handedly conquered invading armies, when all she’d done was squeeze through tinier gaps than her colleagues could manage.
Whatever had secured her selection for this mission, Molly was determined to take this opportunity to shine in front of the Doctor, and had made sure her kit bag was refreshed and restocked. So enchanted was she by the chance to work for one of the most brilliant and inspiring members of the movement, that the grim practicalities of breaking in a pair of boots on these mountains hadn’t occurred to her until the blisters had been ready to erupt.
Dipping her shoulders one way and then the other, Molly swerved low-hanging branches, making stuttering adjustments to her stride as she hurdled the thick buttress roots that this utterly foreign place appeared to specialise in. And the trees looked old, nothing at all like the fast-growing species of home, which were too valuable a resource to be left to grow ancient. Disguised burrows - made by who knew what - were also a threat, perfect as they were for swallowing the foot of an inattentive runner.
If all went to plan, this would be her final trip to the plateau: and the crucial one. Her orders were to keep the beacon concealed until the Doctor gave the word. She would set up the gear in the open and fire a single beam for half a second, before packing up and taking everything down to base. “Base” was a generous word for it. Their centre of operations for the next two or three days was a huge cavern with its opening covered by a thick, camouflaged tarpaulin.
Dr Mason had been like a confined wolf all afternoon, stalking from one end of the vast space to the other. The spotlights they’d brought with them had landed on his wiry body and coarse mop of greying hair from different angles, casting the shadow of a prowling, double-headed beast onto the jagged rocks. It had been surprising for Molly to see him so nervous, which had set her on edge too. It was actually a relief to be out here, even with the aggravating arthropods and oppressive air.
With legs feeling as heavy as the gnarly old tree trunks, Molly gasped hot, wet breaths as she powered on up the hill. It had taken some considerable convincing from her comrades to chop off her thick, dark hair before coming out here. The faintest whiff of a cooling breeze tickled the back of her sweaty neck and she was once again grateful for their persistence - and to Mozza for taking off more than she said she would.
It was the first hint of relief from the elements since daybreak, when Molly had got her first taste of Antovia: this mysterious continent full of bizarre creatures and, it was rumoured, even weirder people. She’d been standing on deck alone, musing over the big day ahead, when her attention had been caught by something in the distance.
It was a single point of golden brilliance, standing out against the slate-grey surface of the River Bruna. The point appeared to burst out of the water and accelerate upwards, before connecting with the top of a benign yellow orb, which was rising in the sky behind a jumble of silhouetted peaks.
Molly had gripped the handrail during those few moments, tensed in anticipation of a devastating impact as that deep, pure point on the water had expanded to swallow up more and more of the river, taking on the shape of a huge, shimmering spearhead as it grew.
But the great golden spear had instead exploded with colour, as every shade of green raced away from her, up the valley slopes and off into a perfect blue infinity. It was like someone had flicked a switch, and it had made her dizzy.
Then some kind of massive white bird had circled above the boat, its agonised screams sending chills right through her. The captain’s mate, who was a local, had said it was just looking for breakfast, like everyone else was at this time, while handing her a bowl of spicy rice with a friendly grin. She’d described the birds she was used to, and it turned out that here in Antovia there were no dull, fat, feathered idiots, with gammy eyes and bin-scrounging habits.
It was during the post-breakfast fuzz that the whole, humid sky had descended, and it had rested on her shoulders and in her lungs ever since. As she, along with the Doctor and Pagliuca, were being dropped off, six comrades had scrambled aboard, looking tatty, filthy and exhausted, having been out here for a week. And now she was starting to understand how they must’ve felt.
Their mission had been a complete success though. They had divided into two strike teams and taken out a ground tracking station each, before regrouping to clear a landing site in front of the base. The stations were regularly vandalised by the locals, most being traditional farmers or craftspeople opposed to any kind of technology. It was some sort of annual holiday here right now, too, and the Doctor had said they loved nothing better than celebrating their time off by smashing up some KRC property. Molly thought she could grow to like these people.
There would be nothing suspicious about the stations going dark, especially at this time of year, and it took days, sometimes weeks for repair crews to get out to them. With Antovia always being on the far side of the planet to the space station, they should be able to land the shuttle undetected and carry out their modifications undisturbed.
There was another team on the station itself, responsible for getting the ship out of there and down to the cave, and she was glad to know no more about the specifics of their mission than that. They should be getting ready to make their move right now. Everything was in place. This was going to work!
The trees thinned and the land flattened as Molly got closer to the ridge, giving a view back down into the valley, where the evening light had now rendered the Bruna brown with an underlying blackness. Just ahead, she could see the nest of rocks and shrubs where she’d hidden the beacon.
Throwing her backpack down, she climbed over the stones gathered and laid strategically around the hiding place she’d chosen that morning, and took a peep into the bushes. The gear was how she’d left it, wrapped in a bit of the thick camouflaged tarp.
Taking a small, black handset from her bag, she held her thumb over the sensor and spoke into the device. “Scout to base. In position and all A1. Over.”
It was Pagliuca who responded, her clear, precise tones cutting through the fluttering, crawling buzz of the forest. “Acknowledged scout. We’re go-time minus 33. Base out.”
She stashed the com back in her bag, as was the protocol for this mission, then took out a metal canister of water, emptying it over her head and down her throat. It was too warm to be properly refreshing, but it helped. And there was plenty of time to catch her breath before the word came.
The next order of business ought to be her toes, each of which felt as though they were making bids for freedom, having grown rebellious over the conditions they had been forced to endure. And that was not to mention her burning heels. Molly worried that, if she took off her boots, she might not get them back on again. But the chance to carry out some running repairs proved too great a temptation to resist, and she sank to the ground by her backpack.
It was quite something to gag at the smell of your own feet, Molly thought, as she laid her bloody, blister-soaked socks on a rock. One of her big toe nails had split, and the ragged edges had torn into the skin around it. The other big toe had gone a funny colour, best described as an almost-green shade of crimson.
Both heels had blistered and burst, leaving huge, pulsating raw wounds, which ran from the bottom of her calves right down to the arches of her feet. Molly reached into her backpack, feeling for the first aid kit, and was met with such urgent yelling that she cried out in shock, and performed a strange, involuntary jump in her prone position.
It was the Doctor calling over the com. No “base to scout”, or anything like that - just urgent, muffled shouting. Regaining her composure, Molly pulled out the com, so his voice was clear - and even louder than she’d expected. “They’re early! They’re damned early! Did I say they could leave early?”
Then Pagliuca’s voice, more measured but lacking its usual serenity, said, “Base to scout, acknowledge.” Molly did, grimacing as she pushed her right foot back into its gory sheath. Pagliuca said the shuttle was already in a high orbit, way ahead of schedule, and that she was to fire the beacon immediately. Wearing only one disgusting sock, Molly leaped up and retrieved the beacon, her hands shaking as she fought to remove the tarp.
Daylight was fading fast now, but the rocks were still hot against the disaster zones that were her feet, as she dragged the equipment into the open. It looked pretty innocent, like an oversized camera on a stand.
She was locking the final leg of the tripod in place when, without warning, the sky was sliced in two by an intense blade of blinding light, which plunged into the mountainside a few miles away. Purple and blue shapes performed turbulent dances, as Molly fought to refocus her eyes. Then there was a short, sharp rumble, which seemed to travel through the ground, into her feet and up out of her head, vibrating her ears on the way.
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