He nods and lets his hand fall away. Then he starts walking, while my skin is still missing his touch and the tingle the conversation created. I shake my hand and follow, trying to mimic him as he moves almost silently through the forest. This time I pay more attention to the noises. The animal calls and the rustle of leaves.
My legs are burning by the time we make it up the next hill, and my shirt is glued to my back. There was a big difference between running on flat ground and hiking up hills. The colony is on much flatter territory.
I turn around and take a sip of water. Because of the trees and the undulations, the ship is invisible. Or it is to me, hidden in the dips and shadows.
Hrad taps my hand and points at a tree. It’s not the tallest one, but it looks sturdy, and more importantly, there are many branches in which to nestle the camera. I kneel and open the case and prep the camera for its new home.
Hrad shrugs off his backpack as if we already agreed that he will do the climbing. I have never climbed a tree, but it can’t be that hard…can it?
He squats and touches my hand again.If anything happens to you, no one is going home. Besides, I have climbed a lot of trees.
He has a point.
You need to press this button to activate it.
I know. And I know how to attach it to the branches.
I stand and give him the strap. He loops the strap over his head, so the camera rests against his chest like a large black spider, then he gives me a nod and starts up the tree. It doesn’t take him long to be several meters overhead.
And I’m on the ground, in the middle of a forest surrounded by animals that may want to eat me. My hand slides to my hip to rest on my gun. I don’t normally carry one, but then I don’t often leave the ship.
He stops climbing, his legs dangling from a branch as if he’s sitting in the dining room not three quarters of the way up a tree. It’s a long way to fall. I bite my lip so that I don’t accidentally yell at him to be careful. The forest is so much quieter than the colony, or even the colony ship. I am so used to the sound of human voices and machinery that to hear nothing but nature is unnerving.
Hrad seems to be taking forever. Is he securing the camera properly? Will it stay up there even if there’s a storm? What if he doesn’t turn it on properly?
It’s not that hard. There’s only one button.
What if it got damaged on the way up? Or he can’t attach it to the tree because the strapping isn’t long enough, or the clamps won’t fit around the branch?
I glance around the clearing as every rustle is suddenly too loud and too close. My heart thumps against my ribs. Hrad tips forward.
I gasp, but then he swings lower to the next branch, coming down far quicker than he went up. He walks over, and I remember at the last second to pull out the tablet. I need to check that it’s transmitting.
It takes a couple of seconds for the camera to connect, then the live feed is on the screen and I’m looking not at the trails on the ground but at the next hill, giving me a sweeping view of the forest and everything that approaches where we stand from the settlement.
It’s not the angle I would’ve chosen…
I touch his hand.Why are we looking up, not down?
His eyebrows pull together.So we can see more. What is the point of seeing what has already arrived? Do you want the angle changed?
No.Because he’s right. A view of the hill around the tree doesn’t reveal as much as what is moving toward the tree.Ready for the next one?
I switch from the feed to the map to mark the location of the camera. Hrad collapses the carry case. The foam flattens between the pieces of metal, and he slides it into his bag before slipping it onto his back as if the bag weighs nothing.
He lifts my bag, and I put it on, suppressing a groan as the weight settles on my shoulders.
It would’ve been nice if all the cameras could be flown into position, but we don’t have enough drones for that. And we can’t make more. Not yet anyway. So we are stuck having to trek through the forest and install them manually.
If the walking bothers Hrad, it doesn’t show.
He doesn’t grumble or mutter or curse.
Each step is carefully placed so that hardly a twig snaps.
He finds an animal trail, and we follow the path towards the river. Ahead, something startles, sees us and runs into the shrubs. Hrad pauses, hand lifted, and fingers spread. I freeze and hold my breath, watching the gap between his fingers and waiting for sparks to form.
After several tense seconds, I exhale. It’s a few more breaths before he lowers his hand. Whatever danger he sensed has passed. I haven’t wandered beyond the colony fence enough to notice the differences between here and there, and since I never saw Earth, only photos—including some from before the collapse of ecosystems where forests like this still existed—to me this is all new and weird. I’m trying really hard not to jump at every rustle or animal chirp.
