Page 5 of Music of the Ocean

Chapter Three – Saxby

THE RETURN to the shuttle felt like a retreat to Saxby.

As the Landing Team retraced their steps through the dense green, he couldn’t help but notice the heavy tread of Kira’s boots, Vance’s harsh breathing, and Abe’s rhapsodizing about the sample readings, as if they were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

Saxby kept his phaser holstered, but his hand hovered near the grip. That sense of being watched made him eye every dark spot in the jungle.

The shuttle’s outline flickered into view as they approached, thank fuck. Vance touched something on his comm, and its camo field dropped with a soft hiss. Relief spread through Saxby, seeing it there, which was dumb because where else would the damned shuttle be? And since when was he so paranoid?

Saxby thumbed the comm on his wrist, letting the SC Heathglow know they were inbound. The ship’s AI responded, crisp and tinny, “Acknowledged, Lieutenant Saxby. Shuttle bay clear for arrival. Decon required as usual.”

Saxby was the last one up the ramp. He stood for a moment, looking back at the tree line, the hard blue sky, and then out to the water. Turning, he walked inside. He never wanted to see this damned place again.

The hatch sealed, cutting the outside world away. And just like that, the tension in Saxby’s chest eased a notch. Not all the way, not even close, but enough to breathe without noticing each inhale.

He slumped into the second seat at the shuttle’s helm and ran through the launch checklist with Vance. Everything read nominal, and within minutes, the shuttle shot into the sky, nose pitched for orbit.

The g-forces pressed him back, and for a moment, as they punched through the upper haze of the exosphere, he felt that same metallic taste, sharp as a razor blade, slice the roof of his mouth.

He said nothing.

The SC Heathglow loomed in the viewport, all sharp angles and modern design. Vance docked them with no problem. Saxby waited for the familiar click and hiss of the docking clamps, the shudder of the hull settling. The steadiness Saxby hoped would come now that they were back on the ship didn’t arrive.

After they disembarked, he led the team through the decon protocol. Spray, pulse, scan. The entire process was so routine he could’ve done it in his sleep. The med scanner pinged that his sodium was anomalously low, but Vance waved it off as a calibration error. Saxby shrugged and moved on.

The ship’s walkways felt almost too bright, too tight after the planet’s wilderness. Vance left for Medical, Kira returned to the Bridge, and Abe detoured toward the Science Bay.

Saxby made for his quarters. The very first thing he did was make a quick trip to his bathroom and grab the first aid kit that had a portable blood analyzer. Within a few minutes, the results appeared.

The numbers were within acceptable levels, except for his sodium. So, why did he feel so out of step? Sitting at his desk, he tapped the console, waking it up. He forced himself to focus on the blinking cursor.

Survey Target Fourteen

Threat Factor: No significant land-based threats.

Atmospheric Conditions: Within acceptable variance.

Landing: Routine.

Sample Collection: Routine.

He left out the part where every hair on his body had stood up, the metallic tang in his mouth, and the split second where he thought he’d heard something alive and intelligent twist through his mind, whispering the word mine.

The words for the report came slow, his hands heavier than usual. Why was he so tired? He flexed his right hand, staring at it. There was no mark, no discoloration. But sometimes, when he wasn’t thinking about it, his entire arm itched.

Turning his attention back to the report, he described the “notable clarity” of the ocean water, the “unexpectedly high photosynthetic index,” the “absence of large fauna.”

A soft ding echoed through his quarters, and he sighed as he gave the person in the corridor permission to enter.

He didn’t look up. He knew it was Vance from the uneven rhythm of footsteps. Funny how he’d never noticed that before.

“I had a feeling you’d be here,” Vance dropped onto the couch across from Saxby.

“Where else would I be?” Saxby asked. “Gotta get this report done.”

Vance set a bottle of electrolyte water on the desk, the label already half peeled. Saxby grunted his thanks and took it. He unscrewed the cap and sipped, bracing for the same absence he’d tasted on the surface.

Instead, the water was just water. Maybe a little too cold, a little too chemically, there was but nothing he could put a name to. He let the bottle rest against his palm, fingers white knuckled.