Jaquene: A Clash of World

“A priest … they left me here with a priest.”

Rhett reluctantly shifted his gaze to the young woman at his side. Her eyes were still turned skywards.

“Sending a dog would’ve been more useful.”

He sighed, returning eyes to the ship. He had heard enough of her complaining on the long journey there. “I understand your concern, Wren,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm with only partial success. “But the last two missions to Jaquene were led by scientists such as yourself, and…” He did not need to finish.

Near him Wren wiped dust off of her glass visor, he could not see her expression through the screen until she turned directly at him to display a grimace full of contempt.

Mission was now no more than a black spec in the orange-gray sky, so Rhett could no longer pretend to find it so fascinating, and he dropped his gaze to the woman, staring into her disdainful gray eyes. What has he done to offend her? Could she not see that his presence there could save this entire mission, while providing no possible harm? Her hotheaded temper contributed to his own annoyance, and he said, this time with a more forceful tone, “As I have told you many times before, Wren, the Church of New Jerusalem believes that a direct link to God such as myself would not only ensure this expedition’s success, but also provide it the support of the faith.”

The scientist rolled her eyes. “That is utter bu—”

“Not even to mention that this third mission was funded entirely by the Church; without those funds, your Institute would never be able to afford—”

“Thank you, Father,” she interrupted. “But I seem to forget … could you remind me, who was responsible for putting the Institute in its crisis from the start, hmm?” She gave him an angry stare. “It seems that your precious Church is to blame after all.”

Rhett scowled back but didn’t reply.

Wren grunted and turned away from him and from the landing site. He sighed. If they were to spend time as partners while exploring this planet, then they had to try to cooperate. Simply avoiding each other like they had done on the journey there wouldn’t do.

He looked back at the sky. Mission was completely gone now, and even its trail of smoke became nearly invisible on the blurry skies of Jaquene. All of a sudden, Rhett realized how truly alone they were. Only a handful of people on an entire planet—the exact number of which remained to be seen. Hopefully, it was higher than just two. Just thinking about that made the young priest shiver, and so he turned to follow the scientist.

Wren had already unpacked some of her equipment, and was currently handling a peculiar, spherical, fist-sized device.

“What’s that?” Rhett asked, coming closer and looking over her shoulder. The object was metallic, roughly the size of an apple, with a single button at its top. Its smooth, shiny surface reflected the bright light of Jaquene’s star and sent rays dancing on the ground and on Wren’s suit.

“Oh, this?” Wren stepped aside and held up the orb. “It’s called a Neo-Phylactimatron. It taps into the gravitational fibers of the space-time continuum and detects life forms of significantly insignificant importance, thus allowing us to greatly optimize and expedite crucial procedures during expeditions such as this.” She pressed the button on the device and held it while extending her arm in Rhett’s general direction. After a few seconds in which nothing happened, the entire sphere lit up and flashed bright green. “Oh, would you look at this! I think its detecting something.”

The priest looked at the device, then at the scientist, and sighed, giving her his most exasperated, unamused expression. “Must you do this?” He ran his hand over his face, and added, “Listen, hate me all you want. But whether you like it or not, we are partners.”

Wren gave him a strange look, his mocking smile faded. Neither spoke for a moment, until Wren shrugged and said, “Fine, fine. I’ll play the nice role for the time being.”

“Now wait a se—”

“This,” she held up the device once more, “is an atmospheric analyzer. It detects whether or not the air around us is safe to breathe. Green means good, red is bad.” She said it as if explaining to a toddler.

Rhett nodded, ignoring her tone, and diverted his attention to the still green-glowing orb. Wren did the same. “We can remove our masks,” she added simply.

Rhett gave her a doubtful look. “Are you sure? There was no data retained from the previous missions. How do we know that it wasn’t the air which killed the other…”

Instead of listening, she took off her mask and breathed deeply. “It’s fine.”

Rhett eyed her for a moment; she gave him another mocking smile, so he removed his own helmet, taking a small breath, and then another deeper one. The air was sweet and pure and made him feel fresh and energized. Without the visor obstructing his field of vision, he could now admire the strange scenery at its fullest.

Mission had landed right in the middle of a vast crater. The area closest to them was almost completely flat, but farther around them were low, round hills. In every direction, Rhett could see the peaks. Thousands of meters high, they looked much closer than they actually were, he reasoned, and made the horizon look jagged and unnaturally smooth, reminding Rhett of a saw-blade. He could not quite see what laid between their flat area and the far mountains; whatever it was, he both dreaded and wanted to explore. The place gave him a sense of entrancing beauty … and foreboding emptiness.

“They aren’t dead.”

Rhett looked back at the scientist, confused. “Sorry?”

“You were starting to say that the air might have killed the members of the previous missions, but we have no evidence that they are dead,” she said with a tone which meant pure logic and certainty. “Our goal is to recover them as much as it is to explore this new planet.”

The priest paused for a moment before nodding in agreement.

Wren turned away and looked at something in the distance. “It’s customary to build the expedition base on high ground somewhere near the landing site…” She squinted at the nearby hills. “That’s where we’re heading,” she finally said, pointing at the nearest, and most distinct of the ridges. It was as round as the rest, but its top was slightly taller, and it had a curious bulbous shape to it. “If the members of the previous missions are still alive, that’s where they’ll be.” She fastened her pack, avoiding the priest’s gaze. “We better start walking—the days are long on Jaquene: about thirty hours standard, but I’d still like to be under a roof before too long.”