Tom opened a new M to Angela.
TOM: Pablo and Zisa did IT!
ANGELA: NO! You’re lying! Are you lying?
Tom copy/pasted his exchange with Pablo into his M to Angela just as she arrived at his side. She rubbed Zisa’s back in circles and guided her away from Tom.
“C’mon now, hon,” Angela said. “It’s all over now. We’ll let it all out and get to work, ‘kay?”
ANGELA: So it looks like you waited about 3 seconds after promising secrecy before telling me.
TOM: LOL not even 3 seconds.
ANGELA: I’m in awe.
TOM: Me too. I love you.
ANGELA: Love you too. You better not c/p crap I send you.
TOM: Never.
TOM: OK Once.
TOM: OK Rarely.
TOM: OK Sometimes.
ANGELA: I’m gonna kick your ass.
“Thanks for the assist,” Pablo said as he shook hands with Tom. “Guessing you guys landed pretty close to here?”
Angela nodded. “About five-K east. Let’s get your skimmers undocked so we can tow your EV out of this field.”
Tom agreed. “And you two need to finish your exigency procedures. Data files, suit water, SSKs, food. We need to stay on top of that stuff until everyone’s at the rally point. Aether and Qin made a water landing and expect to be there tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I caught that on comms earlier,” Pablo said. “Are we sure they’re okay out there?”
“We’ll check in with them once we get you guys out of here,” Angela called from the other side of the EV. “Just get going on your stuff for now.”
Pablo leaned to Tom and cut his eyes toward the EV, whispering, “She’s still bossy.”
Tom smirked. “Yup. I think she’d like to be gone before your three farmer friends stroll back out here. You two eat anything yet?”
Pablo’s face twitched a little at the mention of food. Tom empathized. For how many years had it been the ultimate taboo? How long would it take for the stigma to fade?
Pablo replied, “We both had our scheduled calorie bars. You?”
Tom nodded affirmative as Angela called out again, “Tom, could you come back here, please?”
Pablo and Tom shared a lighthearted “uh-oh” face and split up.
“Coming!” Tom walked around the EV just as the first skimmer was unfolding. “I’ll start the other one—”
“No, I need you to figure out how to link the skimmers. You know, for loadbearing.”
“Right.” He walked to his own skimmer, trying to recall the steps.
Up to eight skimmers could be linked and controlled by a single node, and at least three were required to heft the weight of an EV. He dove into his skimmer’s settings in search of a link or connect menu, but found it under “Advanced Tasking.” Only two other skimmers appeared in the discovery list until Angela got the fourth powered up.
“All set!” Tom gave her a thumbs up. “Let’s get the cables out.”
A few minutes later, Tom noticed two Threck had reappeared in the field. The pair were lying low behind the row of bean plants closest to their domicile, attempting to covertly observe the team with only their protruding eyes. Tom imagined the species had spent millions of years in such a position, body hidden beneath the sea floor, or more recently, in mud—thus the eyes’ position atop the dome-shaped heads.
“We’re all hooked up,” Zisa said, snapping Tom out of his daze. “You want us on our skimmers or in the EV?”
“Oh, definitely the skimmers,” Tom said, observing her face looked especially red and dry. “Just hang onto your grips and don’t reinitiate control unless I say so. You doing okay? You’re not sweating.”
“Plenty of sweat in this suit,” she said and tilted her head to the EV. “Pablo’s almost done filling his. He already told me I have to drink more water.”
“So are you?” Tom worried about Zisa manufacturing another illness for sympathy’s sake. She’d done it a few times on the station and they couldn’t deal with that mess here on the surface.
“Yes, I am,” she said like a bratty teen. “Here… see?” She grabbed the tube with her tongue and sucked in several gulps.
“Tom,” Angela said, and he glanced back at her.
She was standing on her skimmer, hands on the control bars, but concerned eyes pointed behind him. She cocked her head for him to turn around.
Tom peered back and spotted them: a caravan of City Threck emerging from the shaded road beside the farm’s domicile. They marched in two, wide-spaced columns with bright red shades, each held aloft by four tall poles at the corners. As the caravan turned in front of the domicile, the two hiding Country Threck stood up and faced the new arrivals.
“We need to hurry,” Tom said. “Pablo? We have to go!” He stepped up onto his own skimmer and Zisa did the same.
“I’m coming!” Pablo’s muffled voice from inside the EV. “What’s happening?”
“More company!” Angela shouted. “Move your ass!”
The columns of City Threck continued their march in front of the structure, revealing more and more of them, some pushing or pulling stone-wheeled carts for the harvest. Tom estimated at least thirty so far, all covered by the canvas shades, a red hue cast upon the Threck and ground.
“Crapshake,” Angela said.
Tom saw it, too: the Country Threck pointed back at them and a group of curious City Threck stretched out higher to see. “Pablo!”
“Just sealing the door! Ten seconds!”
“Too late,” Tom said quietly as eight City Threck bounded across the crop rows. Strides of seven to eight meters required little effort from their long legs. Each held up their robes like a Renaissance lady lifting a dress to scale a flight of stairs or cross a puddle.
“I’m on,” Pablo shouted from the skimmer behind Angela. “Let’s go!”
But the first of the Threck had already stopped a short distance from Tom, its arms held out to its sides. “Peaceful greetings,” it said in crisp City dialect. “I am Dowfwoss Amoss.” Its voice was mesmerizing—similar to the thousands of recordings he’d heard over the years, but so much more dimension. The Threck voice box was buried deep inside the head (the equivalent of humans vocalizing from the chest) and soundwaves traveled up through two widening tubes to their siphon holes, amplified and emitted as if through a short horn. On the station, Tom hadn’t given much thought to the harmonics, focusing strictly on the words and gestures during Minnie’s often abbreviated lessons. In person, the voice was smooth and deep, like an old-fashioned radio announcer. At least, that was the case with this Dowfwoss Amoss.
Tom scrambled to bring up his Livetrans app.
Dowfwoss? Some sort of honorary? C’mon, c’mon!
“Pleasure for all,” Amoss went on, though Tom had no idea how much of the message he was interpreting correctly. “Do return home… group animal life. So much pleasure. With Threck words? Feel them? Now you.”
The app had finished loading, but Tom had yet to resync his fone and suit. PA speakers finally activated, Tom stepped down from the skimmer platform, faced the Threck, and pointed his hands out to his sides. This was the moment he’d dreaded for days—an encounter he thought he could delay or even avoid all together.
“Peaceful greetings.” Minnie’s synth Threck voice worked perfectly as it read the lines Tom had entered. Tom didn’t know if he could say the same for his associated gestures and expressions. “I am Tom. My people have different words than Threck, but I know some of yours. Please speak slowly, so that I may understand all of your words. We are peaceful people from faraway place.”