Now you see them...

7 months after landing

D

avid sighed in utter frustration. Computer was running slow. Again. Resigned to yet more hours of wasted time, he pushed back the chair from his console, stood, and looked around the command center cavern for any tell-tale flashing lights. This was becoming a serious problem, and yet, Computer should not be having these systematic slowdowns, not for years. She was not a young machine as these things went, but he had been meticulous in her upkeep, both on Moonbase Alpha and here on Terra Alpha. While the move down to the planet had taken its toll, especially as they had to leave certain too-large components behind during Operation Exodus, Computer had run flawlessly until three weeks ago.

He had torn her apart, twice, and reassembled her, and yet these maddening delays were becoming more and more problematical. To date, he had found nothing but a few minor mis-linked circuits, and a dust ball or two.

David walked across the room looking at the familiar setup, again thinking how the engineers who designed Main Mission would’ve been at home here. The domed cavern shared the dimensions of the original room that had housed the consoles and computer banks now here. The elevated floor beneath his feet, also transplanted from Main Mission, provided protection from static buildup and a space to run the connecting cables. The bump down the middle, unlike Main Mission, was the result of the inherent irregularities on the cavern floor. Most of the time, David remembered to step a bit higher as he rounded Sandra’s station. Most of the time.

Tonight though, he stumbled, barely catching himself against Sandra’s console, and earning himself a bruised hip in the process. David prided himself on his usually phlegmatic temperament, unless someone was maligning Computer of course, but tonight the lancing pain in his side was just too much. Biting his tongue against a curse his mother most assuredly would not have approved, he turned, more carefully this time, to walk to the cavern’s opening for some fresh air.

The shadows under Koenig’s desk stirred.

The walk was a short one from the domed cavern, down a wide sloping corridor that took a sharp turn midway to end in a broad ledge that overlooked the valley. One day soon there would be an airlock in place along with air scrubbers to provide a seal against the elements, but that was only now approaching the top of the colony’s ‘to-do list’. That should take care of the dust issue, at least. David walked to the very edge of the landing, only pausing when his booted toe-tips hung over the front ledge. The night was clear and cold and the air was perfectly still, unlike the dawn and dust windstorms. He turned to pace the opening under the archway, slapping his arms around his chest and stamping his booted feet to warm himself, his breath bracingly visible in the moonlight.

There was only one moon out tonight, the small ivory-colored one. Only two-thirds the size of Earth’s moon, it was rich in exotic mineral resources. Reports submitted by the astronomers said both moons had been captured at some remote historical point, and that each had an extra-solar origin. David shook his head. He had run the sims on their moon’s approach to this system. If the moon had broken out of the space warp a mere million miles sooner, or if the velocity had been a triffle bit lower, he could be looking up to see Luna right now. There was still the remote statistical probability that the large gas giant on the far side of the system might have captured the moon. Or perhaps it hadn’t. There simply hadn’t been time to gather the data needed to confirm either during Operation Exodus.

They would get a second chance to ascertain if the moon and Alpha were still within their reach. In another twenty-five years or so, orbital mechanics dictated a close enough approach between the planets for visualization, even with their reduced capabilities. Now, whether or not the Eagles would still be spaceworthy by then... well, that was Carter’s problem.

The Commander had ordered several missions to their new planet’s two natural satellites. So far, there had been seven or eight Eagle-loads of samples that had Osgood, Sanderson, and other engineers and surveyors excitedly planning further missions. David had submitted a request to be notified if any of the new finds resulted in metals or alloys suitable for use in Computer. He fretted about cables, circuit boards and relays aging out and failing. Keeping Computer running for as long as possible, well, that was his problem.

Time to return to work; the brisk air had cooled his temper. No one else was on duty tonight, which would work to his favor. He could pull everything apart again. David grimaced. There had to be a rational explanation, and Paul’s flip comment about planetary gremlins did not bear worth repeating.

Again back in the chamber, warmer somewhat due to Computer’s waste heat, he considered which unit to pull apart first. Well, since it was Sandra who had first noted the delays with the orbiting data satellites, he would examine her station first. They most certainly required any and all satellite information, as they needed to finish the in-depth planetary surveys as soon as possible. David pulled out Sandra’s chair and settled in to remove all the station’s faceplates.

He enjoyed the peaceful, uninterrupted silence during the nights, just him and Computer, and perhaps a few flying bugs attracted to the lights. He had to admit, though, it would be simpler if Sandra were here to help. Regretfully, and David shook his head, Sandra was in what his grandmother called ‘a most delicate condition’. Just last week, Dr. Mathias had restricted her activities to the point she was almost useless in the command center. And more to the bother, any time he asked Sandra to stay an extra hour to help, Alan would come and physically remove her, glaring at him in the process. What was so hard about sitting an extra hour? She was using her brain, not risking the unborn child in some risky physical endeavor. His logic fell on deaf Australian ears, and the Commander had not been sympathetic to his requests, either.

Scowling at the winged insect crawling on the lamp, David adjusted the bent-neck light for a better look at what lay beneath the protective console covers. Visually, he carefully followed the linking circuits looking for any obvious abnormalities, and then probed even more carefully with hand-held scanners. Everything looked fine, except for a bit of black dust. He reached behind himself for the thin-nozzle vacuum, groping unsuccessfully until he recalled he had not brought it with him. He stood and walked across the room, lost in thought but still carefully stepping over the bump, to one of the small storage cabinets behind Koenig’s desk.

He found the catch unfastened and the door to the small multi-purpose cabinet slightly ajar. David frowned. He did not like to find any door left open. It was a sign of sloppiness, which he would not tolerate when it came to anything associated with Computer. He reached in, not looking but knowing where the vacuum was kept.

Shadows flowed out of the way of his reaching hand.

And once Sandra’s child arrived, he imagined even more inconvenience with the need for Sandra to leave to feed and care for it on a regular schedule. That would mean even less time to use her help, unless... David came to a full stop. No, the alternative was infinitely worse. He did NOT want a noisy, smelly, fussy baby around Computer.

David claimed the vacuum and returned to Sandra’s station, absently resetting the loosened filter cup as he walked. He turned on the suction and bent to the delicate task. After several minutes of work, he found the dust rearranged, but not removed. He took a deep breath. Alphan dust had been minimal and polite. A mere puff of air and circuit boards were pristine. He had forgotten how plaguing earth dust could be, at least outside a dedicated clean room. He turned the vacuum on again, and in short order realized the problem was with the vacuum itself. Someone, most assuredly not himself, had failed to empty the catch filter after its last use. He turned away from the open circuit boards and carefully opened the vacuum to purge the filter.

For the sake of David’s mother, it was wise that no one else was around to hear her son’s choice of words.

The contents of the filter now lay on the Commander’s desk. Almost as soon as he had opened the vacuum, David had closed it and removed it completely from the vicinity of fragile circuit boards. With delicate distaste, David poked a finger at the tangled, dark and dusty mass, with what appeared to be of all things, bent whiskers in front of him. They couldn’t be, could they?

As a gifted teen-aged college student, David had earned extra money at a rather unusual job, one that always raised eyebrows on his curriculum vitae. He had spent two seasons as a professional dog handler— show seasons that was. Quite to everyone’s surprise, David had found his landlady’s noisy, yapping and study-interrupting dog would obey him better than its mistress. The day he had glared down at the little beast and told it to be quiet, and the pest responded by silencing itself mid-bark with a look of patent adoration in its eyes, well that had been the day everything had changed. Since the animal was the scion of many generations of pedigreed miniature beagle breeding, nothing would do but for David to show the dog in the ring. The little animal, promptly nicknamed Snoopy by David’s mother, made it all the way to the Crufts show in Birmingham, finishing best in its class, and third overall at that most prestigious of shows. The landlady had been so ecstatic she had refunded a year’s worth of rent.

David had spent many hours grooming that animal and was well familiar with dog hair. This dark, iridescent mass in front of him most assuredly was not dog hair, nor was it the red and purple hair of the moppets. David had not been successful in totally banning those creatures from the command center, but at least their presence was limited to riding on the arms and shoulders of their Alphan friends. No, this was something very different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I tell you, Commander, there is something living in this cave!”

Koenig sat in his chair, his night robe belted against the chill, an impassive expression on his face as he watched his computer head pace back in forth in front of his desk. David had woken him from sleep and summoned him urgently to the command center for a matter critical to Computer’s welfare.

“I left a.... a hairball... on your desk. Sir.”

Koenig looked with a jaundiced eye to the spot where David pointed. There was nothing there now except a bit of black dust glittering on the pale desk. Koenig’s moppet Gonzo yawned hugely and indifferently, whether at David or the missing hair the computer head was unsure, and settled back down on Koenig’s forearm to go back to sleep.

“Are you saying we have cats?”

“No, Commander. Well, I do not believe so. No, of course not! The hair was too fine for that.”

David watched as the Commander visibly counted to ten.

“David, we know there are all types of native animals on this planet, but don’t you think someone here would have seen an animal large and hairy enough to shed something like a— hairball?” Koenig again looked at the empty spot on his desk.

David was frustrated and angry at himself. He had turned his back on the mass of hair to summon the Commander, and when he had turned back, the evidence had been... gone.

The Commander looked at him steadily. For all his faults, David knew a hyperactive imagination could not be counted against him.

“Alright, Kano, set out sensors to try and capture an image of your hairball maker. I’ll bring this up at the staff meeting...,” Koenig yawned, “in the morning. In the meantime, I believe I’ll return to my quarters. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”

David watched the tall form of the Commander leave, the pointed muzzle of Gonzo looking back at him in sleepy exasperation, all the while considering how to prove the presence of the creatures.

He did not see the shadows run by his feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, if he were a small animal trying to hide, where would he be? David stood under the elevated Big Screen, hands on his hips, and surveyed the room in front of him. A quick walkabout had found no evidence of animal droppings, which was no surprise as none had ever been reported. He had to grant the moppets were very tidy in their needs, rather like cats using one designated area. A swooping insect briefly interrupted his visual survey of the room; at least those small pests had decreased in number over the past few weeks.

He recalled the limp mat of fine hair he had pulled out of the vacuum. It had been the most unusual shade of black. So black it seemed to absorb the colors around it, that was, until a stray beam of light had caused a brief shower of iridescent glimmers. His first thought had been to what optical properties the hair must hold to produce such an unusual effect, the next that this was what was producing the fine, black dust.

What did all animals want, he mused. Food, water, shelter. A sanctuary to raise their young in safety and peace. David’s face creased in memory. The Alphans had been in search of that not so long ago. They had providentially found this planet literally months before their own inevitable extinction on the moribund Alpha.

Food. Well, he had no idea what the moppets ate, much less these unknown creatures; and some animals obtained their water from food he seemed to recall. Shelter. If he could find where they lived perhaps he could trap and remove them. Alan and Sandra, and the Commander, seemed to possess an affinity for the animals, perhaps they would help him... once he proved the dust-makers existed.

Why was always plagued with animal problems? He didn’t even really like animals all that much. Unless sauces were involved. His landlady’s beagle, his dissertation professor’s cat, even the guard dog at the airbase where he served in the war had all liked him. David unconsciously rubbed his hands on his pants. He had always felt the need to wash his hands after an animal had rubbed up against him. Alpha had been wonderful in that regards. No animals except for some research insects, the fish in their tanks and the doves kept neatly in their cages. Well, there had been the research gene stores that included the gametes of several larger mammals, but they had stayed safely in their liquid nitrogen canisters.

Shelter, then. He looked about the cavern with an eye for nooks and crannies. He had always prided himself on keeping Computer in excellent condition, and that included maintaining all hatches and seals. He conceded that he had been successful at that at least; they had never found any of that black iridescent hair inside Computer, just the fine dust it seemed to disintegrate into.

Standing in one spot for so long, David realized he was feeling chill again. He grinned. Shelter included warmth. And Computer, fine and well-designed machine that she was, did generate some waste heat. He rather suspected it was that heat as well as the lights that attracted the nuisancy insects.

He picked up one of the small torches that lay scattered about and walked over to the largest bank of computer panels. He searched the floor carefully, and then walked around the corner and squatted down on his heels. Leaning forward, he put his hand out and laid it over the fine-meshed grill covering the heat vent. It was seated snugly. Reaching out his other hand he batted a flying insect out of the way, then carefully worked the grill loose and with torch in hand, peered inside. The fine black dust had settled in here, too. David sat back on his heels, thinking. He stood and walked over to Sandra’s console. He looked at the flooring, at the raised bump. He traced the rise in the flooring from near the Commander’s desk, past Sandra’s console, past his console to where it ended at the edge of the flooring under the left side of the Big Screen.

Following the bump, David walked quickly to where the flooring ended and stepped off onto the natural rock ground. The space under the ‘bump’ might just provide the extra room needed for a small animal to build a nest. He got down on his knees and flashed his light under the white flooring, peering into the crowded space, the gently circulating air now blowing very softy on his face. Slightly warm air he realized, as he looked more closely and seeing what he expected, and then some.

As he clearly recalled, since he had been the one to direct their placement, cables ran in their conduits creating a criss-cross labyrinth between the supporting piers. What was unexpected, and quite new from his last inspection only a fortnight ago, was that the light was now muted, and it twinkled. He stayed there, fascinated by what he was seeing. As the air settled from the disturbance of his arrival, fine black dust resettled on the conduits and on his torch in a layer thicker than he had seen anywhere else. So, the little dust-makers did exist.

David sat up once again on his heels to consider what this meant. After a few moments, realizing the cold was making his joints stiff, he moved slightly, turning to sit more comfortably on the edge of the flooring, his feet resting on the native rock below. He turned the torch off to conserve battery power and placed it by his side in his shadow.

As his hand released the torch, it happened— his cry of surprise echoing throughout the cavern. The pain was negligible, barely noticeable, as the flickering movement ran up his rust-colored sleeve, tiny claws scrabbling for purchase on the slick synthetic, then scrambling up his head and launching into space.

He stood quickly, frantically batting at his hair and twisting about to see what it was, to make sure no others had followed the first.

There was nothing to see.

~~~~~~~~~~

David sat in Koenig’s chair, the chamber’s lights dimmed as low as he could make them and still see, somewhat at least. Tomorrow night he’d borrow a pair of thermal infrared night goggles from Carter, but for now this would have to suffice. He leaned back in the padded chair and made himself comfortable... and watched.

Time passed slowly. Hours. Nothing stirred except the flying insects. He held so still for so long that two of the annoying things landed on the Commander’s desk just in front of him and had the audacity to mate.

Even the bugs were comfortable in his presence.

After an untold time frozen in copulatory success, the winged insects separated and flew off in their separate directions. David shook himself back to alertness. 0500 hours. He needed to get some work done and there were only a few hours left. If Paul and the Commander reported to duty in the morning and all he could report was one hair-ball, which he could not even produce, he could well imagine the order sending him to Medical for a psych evaluation; not to mention Alan’s laughter and Paul’s comments of invisible gremlins. David stood and crossed the command center to return to his own console. There was work to do.

0700 hours. David saved his conclusions concerning the long-term viability of their colony, sat up straight and stretched his arms high over his head. That should be enough to preserve his reputation. In two hours he had completed what many would have required most of a shift to accomplish.

David visually scanned the room seeing the several panels he had left open. He quickly remedied that little bit of sloppiness and then sat back down at his console. He’d apologize to the Commander for that unseemly interruption of his sleep, and add that there was no need to make any comments in the morning staff meeting. But... he still had to think of what to say when the Commander asked the inevitable question.

The reply of ‘no’ had the charm of brevity and the succinctness to allow a quick escape. He’d get some food, rest and then a pair of night goggles from Carter.

His stomach grumbled; he’d missed his lunch hour in his night long search. The cafeteria would be up and running at full capacity by this time, and a cup of something hot to drink sounded good.

He’d solve this mystery yet.

A

nother night. The required tasks had taken less than an hour and now the command center was again quiet and still, the only movement the flitting insects. David paused to watch them, sipping the hot drink from the thermos that June had left at his console. The insects were the key, he believed.

Tanya had offered to share the shift with him. He’d almost accepted, thinking a witness might be prudent, but then recalled the relationship between the Russian and the Commander. He had no desire for Koenig to be aware of exactly what he was doing until he was successful.

David knew he might be fairly oblivious to who was associating with whom; but even so, he would have had to be dead to be unaware of the partnerings of those with whom he worked most closely. Sandra, Alan and Peter Rockwell were one such; Paul, Tanya and the Commander another. He knew that eventually he would have to form an alliance and have children. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, it was just that the time it took to form a relationship could be put to much better use. Perhaps he could ask Dr. Mathias to facilitate. Perhaps there was someone who wanted a child but not any emotional entanglements. That would be best.

Once again David inspected Computer’s air vents and the vents placed irregularly about the work consoles. Due to desk arrangements, some consoles had vents located near the ground, some on the side, and a few, his included, on the work surface. None were unlatched, all were dusty.

The dust had reaccumulated inside the vents he had cleaned yesterday. He was fairly certain nothing living was getting inside Computer, if nothing else, he would expect more glitches if that were so, but the dust was the problem. He thought for a while. In the middle of his sleep shift, he had awoken with the image of visiting his grandfather in the hospital while the old man was being treated for leukemia. The room had been kept under positive pressure to keep any airborne germs outside. Such a system might just keep the dust out. It was a thought.

Once again David cleaned the vents, and this time there was no hairball inside the vacuum. Next, he took the time to confirm all incoming messages from the exploratory teams had been appropriately dealt with, and then again sat down at Koenig’s desk where he could survey the cavern for any movements.

Dogs. Cats. Moppets. What was it that caused people to seek out pets? His mother had encouraged him to get a pet, to help with his ‘socialization skills’. David had finally gone so far as to get a goldfish, but his mother hadn’t lived long enough to relish her success.

David leaned back in the padded chair, pulling on the night goggles. He remembered his mother’s last letter. It had arrived months after her death in southern Europe; the mails had been all but decimated in the world war, and on occasion letters would turn up months, even years later.

Matilda Jane Kano, Tilly, had been on holiday in March 1987, and had spent most of her time meeting and befriending locals as well as fellow tourists. His gregarious mother could befriend anyone, English-speaking optional, and would soon claim a new international penpal. Her final letter had found her delighted in a new friend. She had met an artist, the wife of a famous astronaut on her holiday. They had toured museums together and discovered tiny, out of the way coffee shops. David had never shown that letter to anyone, but the image of his mum having lunch with Jean Koenig always brought a wistful smile to his face.

The flashing lights on the Big Screen were as hypnotically soothing as they had been on Alpha. David watched the lights now as he had then, calculating the frequency of light pulses as a function of Computer’s well-being. Irrational perhaps, but soothing. If only those plaguey insects would... what was that?

Resisting the impulse to sit upright, David held still. The white winged bug, brilliantly lit under the thermal goggles, flying in front of the Big Screen had seemed to just ... disappear. No, that wasn’t correct. The insect had swooped down into shadows and hadn’t returned, or, was it that the ... shadow? ... had reached out and snatched the insect in mid-flight? A shadow with no evidence of life?

David forced himself to remain still, his eyes flitting in all directions. Was this the reason why the insects were decreasing in numbers? Was something taking them? But to where? And why?

David’s brilliant mind flickered through multiple scenarios, examining and dismissing all but one.

Could it be Paul was right? That Computer was haunted by gremlins? David had once read an article of how Darwin had postulated that a uniquely, almost impossibly shaped Madagascar orchid with a twelve inch long throat had to be pollinated by a moth with a twelve inch long tongue. ‘Impossible’, Darwin’s peers had stated. And yet, over forty years later, just such an insect had been found. So, perhaps the impossible was also happening here. Perhaps his impossible creature, invisible to Carter’s goggles, was black-haired, shed iridescent dust and, just perhaps, hunted the winged insects? Could that be why the insects had become less numerous as Computer had become slower from an infestation of dust?

Well. And no one would believe him without empiric evidence.

The night finished uneventfully.

“A

nd David, don’t forget to turn on the cameras when your wee beasties appear!”

“Ha, ha.” David shot Carter a scathing look as the laughing pilot walked out of the command center trailing a very pregnant Sandra. In the past week, David had placed monitors throughout the cavern tuned to see any movement in the visual, thermal, infrared, ultraviolet and multiple other spectrums. To the vast amusement of Alan, and the others, all that had been captured were multiple images of David and his vacuum.

“David, I’d be happy to stay and watch with you.”

David turned around to see June standing behind him. He looked at her with slightly squinted eyes, expecting more ridicule, but saw only gentle sincerity.

David didn’t know quite what to make of June. The quiet Main Mission operative rarely spoke to him, and yet he had looked up from his console to see her watching him more and more often over the past few months. David was at a loss over what to do. He still felt awkward over that time he vented his anger and frustration on her near Zenno when Koenig lay in a coma, and yet she had never brought that embarrassing moment up in conversation.

“No, thank you, but no. You are on duty tomorrow, there is no need.”

June looked at him and nodded. She walked around David to the main entrance, looking back one last time before she left.

David stood by his console until the last Alphan left. He was patient. All ridicule aside, the dust persisted, therefore the dust-makers existed.

He pulled up his task-list for tonight, placed the thermal night goggles on his console, turned on the monitors and settled down to work. As his mother had often said, a watched pot never boiled. While scientifically that small idiom was obviously wrong, the point was well taken. He’d focus on his work and let happen what would happen.

The night passed quietly, the dark shadows drawing ever closer to the familiar stranger in their midst.

O

nly one more night on this run of nightshifts. Starting tomorrow, Paul would cover for a week.

The dust persisted. Perhaps once the airlock was in place the problem would become self-limited. Once all the insects were consumed, whatever was eating them would soon expire and then the dust would end. Problem solved.

Almost without thinking, David turned on all the scanning monitors and then settled in for his shift. There were satellite transmissions to review and integrate, programs to write for the metallurgists, and the ever present dust to vacuum. He sipped from the hot drink June had left behind on his desk. Eventually empty, he placed the cup out of the way next to the small heat vent on the far side of his desktop. The hours passed.

0100. The panel on his console chimed to remind him to eat lunch. David shook his head and pulled himself out of his programming fugue. He leaned back and stretched, absently scanning the quiet chamber. His eyes returned to his monitor, and he blinked. The screen seemed to have developed a grainy haze. Blinking his eyes didn’t help, so he reached out and touched the screen. His finger came away gritty.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reached over and picked up the night goggles. Sliding them over his eyes, he slowly and carefully looked up. Nothing was there. He looked back at his monitor. It seemed even dustier. After one final visual scan, including directly overhead, he took the goggles off and laid them aside. Where was this dust coming from? David looked at his dust-covered monitor, something catching his now unassisted vision. A fine shower of black dust twinkled as it fell slowly downward from the top of his console, wafting about on gentle currents of warmth from the heat vent.

David looked back up to the top of his console, and froze. Looking back at him, none larger than a mouse, was a line of tiny, black-furred animals, each haloed by a scintillating cloud of dust. They sat up on their large hind-feet, small front paws tucked neatly against their chests, staring at him attentively. They were so black they all but disappeared into the shadows. If David had not been looking right at them, and for them, he never would have noticed the tiny creatures in the dim light. They looked at each other, the dark skinned man and the even darker animals. The tiny creatures looked entirely comfortable where they perched, body language relaxed but focused. On him. It was entirely possible they had been observing him for many, many shifts. The fine hairs on the back of David’s neck prickled at the thought. He leaned back in is chair slowly, not breaking eye contact.

Their eyes were very large in their tiny pointed and bewhiskered faces, and seemed... odd. The same black iridescence he had found in that mass of vacuumed hair now twinkled from the many eyes watching him. Slowly, one by one, David watched as huge, translucent black ears were lofted and pointed in his direction. The ears were as large and out of proportion to the tiny bodies as were the hind feet. And then there were the tails. Not every creature sported a tail, at least that he could see, but those that did had thin ones three or four times the length of their bodies, with a, well, his mum would have called it a poof at the tip. They looked like miniature, mouse-sized kangaroos with bat ears, and a tail like nothing he’d ever seen.

One of the creatures, a small one, blinked his eyes, and David, as if hypnotized by the iridescent gaze, did likewise— and in that moment his eyes closed, his tiny dust-makers... vanished.

David waited and watched the top of his console but nothing moved. He watched the shadows around him carefully, but they remained simple shadows. He watched the area at the edge of the flooring where the raised buckle ended, but no shadows flitted there, either. The hours again passed.

It was almost 0720. David looked up from his console to see the quality of light changing; the sun was about to rise. He hadn’t gotten much more work done since his visitation. He hadn’t bothered to search for the little creatures, but he had vacuumed once again. Now, the night shift was over. Preparing to stand, he rested his hands on the edge of his console.

There was a flicker of movement, and something exceedingly soft brushed his hand. For a moment startled, he glanced down in time to see the merest tip of an iridescent tail flit over the edge and dive into the dwindling shadows. A whisker had been left next to his hand, a bent whisker that was black as a starry night. He picked it up. A gift? David stared at the spot where the tell-tail had flitted over the edge, a slow smile spreading across his face.

His dust-makers existed. He hadn’t felt anything odd when they had looked at one another, unlike what people said about the moppets. Alan had gone on about how those animals saw auras. David remained thoroughly unconvinced. But... there had been something with his little creatures. He felt... protective?... toward them. He certainly didn’t want to see the little things driven to extinction. The Alphans were the invaders, not his little... whatevers.

He’d have to come up with a name for them.

David was still staring at the spot where the tail had disappeared when he heard the footsteps of his relief clatter in the corridor. There was little he wanted to add to the shift’s log. No one else had ever seen the little beasties, and he needed to consider what he’d learned before making a full report. No one would believe there was a colony of the creatures living here, especially when they were invisible to all the monitors. That was an interesting thought. What made them ‘invisible’? Some property of their fur? What could the Alphans do with that knowledge?

Quite to his surprise, he felt a bond with the little creatures, and he wanted to make sure their new habitat was preserved. They hadn’t really harmed Computer, just slowed her down a bit. The airlock would present a challenge, but not an insurmountable one, and insects were certain to get in no matter what. Dust was preferable to bugs. Just perhaps, David and the little dust-makers would help each other.

Sign-over to the oncoming team went quickly and he left before the Commander arrived. He nodded in passing to Sandra and Tanya on the sloping ramp down to the valley. He had time before he needed to sleep. He’d stop by and see how June was doing, and perhaps ask her to join him for breakfast. She had today off. And then, perhaps, there would be just enough time before he needed sleep to find a better way to deal with the dust. David smiled. Perhaps a series of small positive pressure generators, just large enough to tuck into each vent...

29 December 2007

MGK

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