Walking to the Stars

by Laney Cairo

  Between the alcohol and the sterile ashes, the baby would have a clean entrance to the world.

  Lilli held Girdagan from behind, arms wrapped securely around her chest, and each contraction and push brought the baby closer and closer. When it crowned, Nick was vaguely aware of a generator chugging away briefly in the background.

  He guided Girdagan's hands down to her baby's head, and she smiled at him, eyes wide, mouth falling open with delight. It did the trick, making her let go of her pelvic floor, and the baby's head eased out, supported by both Girdagan's and Nick's hands.

  Quick slide of fingers around the baby's shoulder, to make sure the cord wasn't trapped, and Nick said, “Push now, Girdagan."

  She did, and the baby slithered out, slippery and limp. Nick cleared the baby's mouth and nose quickly, using a small suction bulb. The baby cried, sharp and high and thin in the cold night air.

  Nick had brought a clean cut-up blanket with him, and he wrapped the baby quickly, mess and ash and blood, then, when the cord had stopped pulsing, he clamped it and handed the scissors to Girdagan.

  Two minutes old, and the baby was cradled safely in Girdagan's arms, nuzzling at her breast, breathing well, and Nick said, “Congratulations, Girdagan, on your baby girl."

  Medical protocol was to check for tears, but the birth had been so controlled and gentle, and the humpy was so dirty, that Nick just couldn't justify it.

  Faces appeared at the blanket, letting in the cold air, curious and delighted, and Lilli shooed them away with a couple of growls while she coaxed the baby to attach to the breast.

  It took a while for the placenta to deliver, but Girdagan was losing only a little blood, so Nick didn't use an oxytocin injection.

  He stayed for an hour, until Girdagan and the new baby were both curled up in front of the fire dozing, then he took Lilli aside, out of the humpy into the stingingly cold air.

  A trough was set-up under the tank outlet now, but Nick opted for washing his hands in the water he carried in the back of the van. Lilli washed her hands too, and Nick said, “I'll be back tomorrow, to check on the baby. Make sure that nothing dirty gets near the baby or Girdagan, and keep the dogs out of the humpy."

  He watched Lilli make her way tiredly back to the humpy. The baby would probably survive; she was a good size and breathing easily, her chances were good.

  The sky was lightening, it was almost morning, and Samuel was nowhere to be seen.

  The generator shed seemed the likeliest place, and when Nick peered in, Samuel had bits spread across the ground and was working by the light of an oil lamp with a smoky wick.

  He looked up as Nick squatted down beside him. “I heard the baby crying,” Samuel said, and he sounded choked up. “Is it all right?"

  "Mother and daughter are both safely asleep now,” Nick said, and he curled his hand around Samuel's shoulder. “Ready to go home for a few hours, at least until I have to come back to check on mother and baby?"

  Nick had to help Samuel stand up, without else anything for him to pull himself up on in the shack, and certainly the shack wouldn't take his weight. They had a strange, sleep-deprived moment when Samuel paused, his weight still leaning against Nick, then he stepped back, steadying himself with his crutches, and it passed.

  Talgerit was asleep, curled up with one of the dogs, when Nick found him, so Nick left him there; Talgerit could come back with them later on and collect his car then. Right now, Nick just wanted to go somewhere warm.

  Josh was awake when they got home, stirring porridge and frying up leftover hogget, slabs of bread waiting on a plate on the table. It was a blessed relief to sit down at the table, in daylight, and watch Josh spoon porridge into bowls for the three of them.

  "Thanks for cooking enough for all of us,” Nick said, when Josh pushed a mug of tea across the table to Nick.

  "No problem,” Josh said. “I didn't actually, I was just feeling hungry after the game yesterday. I'll make myself another batch in a moment. Why is Talgerit's heap beside the shed?"

  "It's not a heap,” Samuel said, proving that he wasn't actually asleep and shoveling porridge and jam into himself at the same time. “It's actually a 1982 Mercedes 300 D, with a long block. It's a magnificent piece of machinery, the ultimate precision engineered car, which is presumably why, decades later, it's still running, despite being asked to burn whatever Talgerit can get his hands on."

  Josh stared at Samuel. “That's precision engineered? I heard it pull up during the night, and it sounded appalling, like a boyee was rumbling through the yard."

  "I'll have a look when I've had some sleep,” Samuel said. “Reckon that I can get rid of the banging at least. Of course, he's probably running it on mutton fat, and there's not much I can do about that."

  "Good luck,” Josh said. “I'm going to take the sheep from the shed back to the wide paddock, get them some decent feed."

  "Oats?” Nick asked around a mouthful of porridge. “Seeding today?"

  "Next week,” Josh said authoritatively. “We need some more rain, and I want the soil to warm up a little from the hail before I put anything else in. Your garden's ruined."

  Nick shrugged. “Frost would have killed it all if the hail hadn't. I'm going to have a bath then go to bed."

  He should've been exhausted, being up all night, but the sunlight of the clear still day shone around the edge of his faded curtains, and Nick found himself lying in bed, wide awake, listening to the quiet splash of Samuel washing in the hand basin.

  He heard the thud thud of the crutches, and the scuffle of Samuel's feet on the boards, then the creak of his bed.

  Nick rolled over, bunched up his pillow a little more and tried to ignore the niggling feeling of there being something fundamentally silly about the two of them sleeping in separate beds when they could have been together, sharing warmth, keeping each other company.

  Damn, he was horny.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  The Merc was a beautiful car, in atrocious condition but still beautiful, with enough space in the engine bay that Samuel could maneuver his way around it, despite his leg cast being in the way.

  She was a forgiving car, obviously, able to run with no brake fluid and with a clutch in bits. Samuel flushed the radiator, cleaned the air filter, and tightened the timing chain. Now it no longer sounded like whatever it was that Josh had said it sounded like.

  He'd done other things, too, repaired one of the engine mounts where it had shorn off with a strand of fence wire, and replaced the blown fuse for the headlights with one from the air conditioner unit. It wasn't likely that the air conditioner still worked anyway, and driving at night with no lights must have been exciting.

  The fuel gauge didn't work, possibly just because the oil in the tank had solidified with the cold night, but Samuel doubted it. The oil obviously solidified often, if the smoking and charring on the underside of the fuel tank was any indication that Talgerit lit fires under the fuel tank to melt the fuel. It probably was sheep fat, or tallow of some kind.

  He could have gone with Nick, back to the camp, to have another go at getting the generator to work, but Samuel had chosen to stay at the farm with the car. The seal on the repaired injector wasn't right, and he felt so jangled inside, more than a little strung out from the broken nights, and just plain frustrated, and some time alone seemed like a good idea.

  The van rattled back into the yard before sunset, and when Samuel looked out of the kitchen window, Talgerit was getting out of the passenger side of the van.

  Harold barked from the back verandah, and Samuel could hear the banging and thudding of boot cleaning and removal, then the kitchen was full of the sharp smell of unwashed male, and Talgerit slapped Samuel's back and bent over the fire.

  "How's the baby?” Samuel asked as Nick walked into the room, a chunk of meat in his hands.

  "Baby is just perfect, feeding well, and Girdagan is recovering smoothly,” Nick said, as he put the bundle of
cloth-wrapped meat on the draining board. “Ed sent us some roo. Think I'll cook it up with some parsnips and potatoes, and some dried corn. Want a meal, Talgerit?"

  "Sounds good,” Talgerit said. “But I can't stay, I just came to get the car."

  "I fixed it a bit for you,” Samuel said. “Hope you don't mind."

  "Depends,” said Talgerit, grinning. “If I'm not happy, can you break it back the way it was before?"

  "Not a problem,” Samuel said, not quite willing to take his eyes off the hunk of meat yet. He had doubts about eating kangaroo.

  "We're going fishing,” Talgerit said. “Down to the coast. You all want to come? We'll catch fish, have a big feed, then sleep on the beach."

  "Samuel? You want to go?” Nick asked. “I won't, I really need to sleep."

  Samuel shook his head. “Me, too,” he said.

  "Ask Josh,” Nick said. “He's in the top paddock, fixing up a fence that a procoptodon took out. He wants to talk to you about the thylacines, too, see if we can move them somewhere."

  Talgerit nodded. “I'll find Josh, and have a look around for thylacines. I can ask Ed if you're allowed to move them."

  "Do you like the ‘roo?” Nick asked later, over dinner, while Samuel chewed another mouthful.

  "It's good,” Samuel said. “I've never eaten so much meat before in my life. We usually only eat poultry in Guyana, there isn't enough land to run ruminants, but this is good."

  It was, thick and gamey and tender, in gooey gravy, all the corn and vegetables cooked down to a pulp, and Samuel appreciated the quantity of food, too. He'd been hungry on the freighter, but it hadn't been cold, not down in the engine rooms, not like it was on the farm, and the cold made him ravenous.

  "I'll take your plaster off tomorrow,” Nick said around a mouthful. “Time to take the sutures out, before the skin grows over them. Then I'll re-plaster you."

  "Oh,” Samuel said. “I'd forgotten about that bit."

  "Won't hurt,” Nick said, and Samuel decided he couldn't trust him the least bit on that.

  After dinner, they sat on opposite sides of the stove, a candle each, and when Samuel glanced up from a novel of dubious literary purport, Nick was watching him.

  It was quiet; the stove crackled faintly; the wind whistled a little around the gaps in the floorboards, and when Nick didn't say anything, didn't shift his gaze, Samuel put his book aside. He could wait for Nick, at least for a while. He wasn't going anywhere for the next few weeks.

  The wind picked up a little, making the roof creak, and Samuel could hear the branches of the gum tree beside the house rattling against each other. Harold barked once, quietly, on the back verandah, and Nick's face was in shadow, half-hidden by beard and darkness, completely unreadable.

  Samuel closed his eyes slowly, deliberately, and breathed out slowly, let his shoulders relax, his hand unclasp from the arms of the chair.

  He heard a creak, a whisper of movement, and fingertips pressed against his uninjured thigh briefly, then a moment later, something drifted across his cheek. The pressure trailed down his cheek, across his beard, and the touch intensified.

  It was too much to bear, and Samuel opened his eyes. Nick's eyes were hooded, and his thumb stroked across Samuel's cheek, slow and smooth and so good that Samuel could hardly breathe.

  He felt like he was melting, and it seemed to him that he'd never wanted someone to touch him so desperately before, never needed it.

  Nick's cheek was fire-warm, stray beard hairs wandering up the curve, coarse and strong against skin that time had marked. His temple was scored, by worry lines and sunshine, and Samuel flattened the lines out with his thumb, coaxing the skin smooth, trying to catch a glimpse of the young man that Nick must have been.

  When Nick lifted his gaze, meeting Samuel's eyes, he looked so uncertain that Samuel longed to speak, longed to tell him that it was going to be all right, he didn't need to look so scared, but words might have broken what was happening between them; and Nick would ultimately have to live with himself afterward.

  Nick's hand was around Samuel's neck now, cradling, and the fingertips of his other hand were floating under Samuel's eye, brushing his eyelashes, making his eyelid flicker, and they shared a sound of mutual amusement, exhalation and rumble.

  Samuel was smiling, he could feel it, feel his cheeks folding and the cool air on his teeth, and Nick smiled back at him, and it seemed like they were going to reach some kind of mutual understanding after all.

  Laughter bubbled up inside Samuel, overflowed, and then they were both laughing. Samuel slid one hand around behind Nick's neck and guided their mouths together.

  It was better than the first time, more about liking each other and less about being cold and lonely, and if Samuel's leg hadn't been in a fucking cast he'd be taking charge, lowering them both to the floor.

  But his leg was in a cast, and the floor looked pretty unsavoury, and besides, they were both old enough to be past that, old enough to take this slow, and, damn, but it was good.

  Nick made a contented noise, deep in his throat, and lifted his mouth off Samuel's slowly; he tasted of treacle and wood smoke. His hand slid across Samuel's shoulder, strong through layers of wool and skin.

  He sunk to his knees, between Samuel's thighs, slow burn in his eyes, and said, “You going to throw me out this time, too?"

  Samuel shrugged, under the weight of Nick's hand. “There's something I need to tell you first,” he said. “Something you need to know..."

  * * * *

  The bottles of alcohol were arranged in ascending order of murkiness, and Nick chose the one on the end, toffee coloured in the candlelight, and he poured them both a substantial slug in mugs, and sat down across the table from Samuel. “What is it?” Nick asked.

  There were so many options, starting with one of the wasting virii, and winding up at aberrations that Nick only suspected existed, but it couldn't be good, under the circumstances.

  "I came to Albany for a reason,” Samuel said, circling a finger around the rim of his mug. “I have to get to Perth, to retrieve something. Something important, that exists nowhere else in the world."

  Nick nodded and drank some of his whiskey, letting it rip down his throat. “There's nothing that can be worth going to Perth for,” he said. “It took direct hits, and then things got worse."

  "The World Government has a space program,” Samuel said. “And plans, big plans, to get off the planet, make a start on expanding into the solar system, mining the asteroid belt, getting a solar sail project working, putting giant photovoltaic cells up, with microwave links back to earth."

  "That's ridiculous,” Nick said. “There's no infrastructure left for that, no resources, no money. The world is bankrupt."

  Samuel reached out and took Nick's hand and shook his head. “We have to do this, have to make a start, find the resources. That's why Guyana is involved, the bauxite is there, and the means to mine and refine it. Not everywhere was destroyed, there are universities left, research centers, in Guyana and St. Kitts, Gabon and Sudan. It's not all over, there is a chance, a good chance."

  "Why you?” Nick asked, shaking his head. “What the hell is there in Perth that is so important? It was only a very large country town, it never grew up enough to matter."

  "At the University of Western Australia there was a gravity wave research lab. The lab invented a thing called a sapphire clock, and they were using it to look for drifts in the Fine Structure Constant, among other things. It was the most accurate time measuring device ever invented."

  "I went to UWA,” Nick said. “Did my medical degree there. What does the World Government want a sapphire clock for? In words that don't require me to recall my undergraduate physics."

  "Measuring time is incredibly important when you're trying to navigate around space. If you don't know when you are, you probably don't know where you are either. Sure, the moon is close, and you can see it, but after that things are a bit trickier, especially with chaotic orbits li
ke the asteroids."

  Nick nodded slowly, just once. “With you so far. Now, why you? How come you get sent to find it?"

  Samuel smiled, that sideways disarming smile he had, and his fingers curled tighter around Nick's. “Because I have an idea of what the thing looks like and what equipment to take to make it work, but I'm not actually essential in any way. Just informed enough to do the job, but disposable enough not to adversely affect the project if it all goes horribly wrong. If I was smarter, I'd be sitting at home, drinking coffee and crunching numbers, instead of freezing in a farmhouse with a mug of the most godawful whiskey substitute in front of me."

  "It's not that bad,” Nick said defensively. “It's actually pretty smooth, compared to some of the batches I've made.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of Samuel's hand. “You really can't go to Perth, there're bad lands between here and there, and the city itself isn't unoccupied."

  "It took direct hits, air bursts,” Samuel said. “Who'd want to live there? There's nothing left, is there?"

  "Not who, what,” Nick said. “I've heard the songs, from traveling Noongar...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the enormity of what Samuel was contemplating. “Don't go,” was all he could think to say.

  "I have to,” Samuel said. “You get to save people's lives all the time, to really make a difference. The only thing of consequence I've ever done is fix the bore at the camp; and you've delivered babies. All I've done is consume resources."

  Helplessness was something Nick was familiar with. Bodies failed, people's will to live failed. People chose to do things that harmed them, even killed them. He was used to it, inured by experience and time, but this was different. He was being selfish about this, feeling not thinking, putting his own loneliness ahead of other people's good, but he was so tired of being alone, he didn't want to see the first person he'd connected with in a long time just leave and die.

  He must have been quiet for too long because Samuel was looking increasingly worried. “Will you help me?” Samuel asked. “Teach me what I need to know?"