Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  Then I drew a long oblique arrow to show the crash, and at the end of the arrow, on the ground, I drew the Apogee again, her nose in the sand just as she had landed. Then I drew the five of us, simple stick figures, standing outside it.

  He nodded almost gleefully. This idea—flying—excited him. But he offered no information about how they’d found us and showed up so unexpectedly. I tried to think of a way to ask what their intentions were towards us.

  But just as I put my finger in the sand again, he jerked his head up and looked towards the open tent flap. I looked too, and saw that it was growing very dark out there. The only light now was the lanterns that hung in the tent.

  Grasping my hand with an apologetic look on his face, he said, “Nyn d’ ananke moi hymas epanagein; ei de me, ho adelphos touto chalepos hexei.”

  I didn’t understand his words, but somehow I felt that he was saying we would have to go back to the other tent; that our dinner time was up. I nodded and stood, moving back to the Doctor’s side.

  Silently, we all followed Elasson back through the rows of tents. Lamplight from inside them created a dusky haze over the village, infused by the last hint of sunlight that made it over the walls. No more children played in the front of the dwellings, and no more women wove and ground on the sandy floor. There were a few young people hurriedly gathering up objects from outside and putting them away, and a few men tying tent flaps securely shut. I looked in vain for the little girl I’d met earlier.

  When we reached the tent, we all ducked and went in quietly, and Elasson lingered for a moment in the opening. “Egoge phrontio t’ alla peri hymon hopos eu poio,” he comforted. “Chairet’ oun.”

  “Goodnight, Elasson,” said the Captain with a nod and a charismatic smile.

  Without another word, the young man tied the tent flap closed, and we were once again left alone in the tent.

  “Well.” Crash rubbed his stomach dramatically. “That was a digestive adventure.”

  “More like a sickening disaster,” corrected the Doctor, dropping stiffly onto one of the thin floor mats. He rubbed his eyes again.

  Seeing the gesture made me realize that my eyes no longer itched. I had forgotten all about it while working with Elasson.

  “My eyes don’t itch any more, Captain,” I said quietly.

  “Well, mine do.” Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the Doctor. “You’re the doctor, Gerry. Why don’t you figure out what’s causing this?”

  “What am I, a magician? I didn’t bring my instruments. I looked at Andi’s eyes, and I didn’t see anything.”

  The Captain, who had sprawled on a coarse cloth that was spread on the floor, raised himself on one elbow. “Didn’t bring your instruments? Why not? What do you think I brought you for, to argue with?”

  “You didn’t bring me, I came.”

  “You know what, Andi?” Crash blinked in the low lantern light. “My eyes stopped itching too. I just noticed.”

  “What difference does it make whose eyes itch?” the Captain said with some irritation. “There’s nothing we can do about that now.” He lay back down again to think.

  “Andi,” Crash spoke up again, “what did you learn in your little art contest with that boy over there?”

  “I think he’s the half-brother of Basilius,” I said slowly. “He seems smart.”

  “Hmmm,” was the Captain’s only response. “I say we get some sleep for now; I’m tired. In the morning we’ll talk through what we should do.”

  Without comment, Whales moved to the other corner of the tent where his pack lay, and laid his head down on it like a pillow. Crash, too, lay down where he was.

  The Doctor turned to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “I will. And Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  I reached out and took his hand. “Thank you for coming along with me.”

  He smiled in the dim light and brushed my cheek with his finger. “We’ll be okay, Andi. And don’t worry about August either; he has a good head on his shoulders.”

  “Okay... I’ll try not to. Goodnight, Dad.”

  “Goodnight, Andi.”

  And with that, he pulled one of the mats near me and lay down as comfortably as he could.

  As I stretched out on the soft, warm ground, I mused over the day in my mind. It felt like a week had passed since we left the Surveyor. I thought about the Doctor’s insistence that these weren’t aliens, and the Captain’s staunch resolve that they were. I thought about Crash’s silence, and I thought about the look in Elasson’s eyes when he drew the X over his mother.

  IX

  I woke up during the night and realized that I was very cold. It didn’t take me long to remember where I was, and I shivered in my thin skirt and light shirt. We had piled our packs in the corner when we first entered the tent, and my jacket and leggings were there.

  It was pitch black, and I didn’t think I could find the packs without waking the others. Huddling into a ball, I pressed myself against the wall of the tent. It was so cold! I had forgotten what I’d read about deserts—they were unbearably hot during the day, but could get down to freezing at night.

  I closed my eyes, trying to think about something other than how cold I was.

  I could only have lain like this for about thirty seconds when I felt a thick covering of some kind being gently laid over me, and familiar hands tucking the edges of it tightly around me. Opening my eyes, I could barely make out the Doctor’s face above me.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I murmured, snuggling under the coarse but warm blanket.

  “You need another one?” he whispered, smoothing it again.

  “I’m fine.”

  He kissed me on the cheek, and then lay back down. I kept still in the silence, letting the warm blanket take the edge off the chill of the air, and smiling at the Doctor’s thoughtfulness. For the hundredth time, I thanked God for putting me and the Doctor together, thinking the words as I drifted off to sleep. I love him so much... that was very nice of you. I don’t know what I’d do without him... thank you...

  I slept soundly for the next few hours, and woke to the sound of a loud whistle. I looked up groggily, and saw Crash and the Captain sitting in one corner talking quietly, while Whales examined his instruments. The Doctor was sitting by himself, his jacket on but not buttoned, and his iron-gray hair slightly disheveled. The light filtering dimly into the tent revealed that the other three men had made an attempt at smoothing their hair, but their clothes were wrinkled and sandy, and they were missing the overall sharp professional appearance that I was used to.

  “Andi’s awake,” Crash observed in a more normal tone, looking over at me. “You sleep okay?”

  I sat up, casting off the blanket. The morning air was warm, though not uncomfortably so. But I found myself longing for fresh air after the long night in the tent.

  “I slept pretty well. It got cold there for a while.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “It got cold there for a while,” I repeated, looking at him roguishly.

  “Oh, get out,” he growled, retaining his good-natured twinkle.

  “Can I?” Getting up, I walked over to the tent flap. “I’d like to.”

  The Doctor stood up resolutely, brushing his hands against his pant legs. “Well, I’m going for a walk. You can come with me.”

  “Can you do that?” the Captain asked, smiling.

  “I’ve got legs, haven’t I? Come on, Andi; let’s go see what that noise was.”

  Crouching down, he felt for the cords that tied the tent flap shut. When he found them, he undid the knots, stood up, and held the flap open for me. I ducked out, expecting to find the guards waiting outside to stop me, but there was no one there. The bustle of the former day had returned in full force. Men from every corner of the place flooded towards a large opening in the back of the wall, and many of the women were already working in front of their tents.

  “Come on,” the Doctor invit
ed, offering me his arm. I took it, and we sauntered down the rows of tents, observing.

  “An-dee,” said a familiar voice, pronouncing the word slowly, as if it were an object that was hard to chew.

  I turned to see Elasson pushing his way towards us through the crowd. “Doc-tor Lloyd,” he said, smiling proudly at the Doctor.

  I smiled and nodded, clutching the Doctor’s arm tightly. The buzz of alien conversation around us was making me feel very out of place, especially since everyone who passed stared at us.

  “Good morning,” the Doctor said. Although Elasson couldn’t understand our words, I was certain he could interpret our tones somewhat.

  “Chairete,” said the young man in a similar tone. He looked as if he wanted to tell us something, but didn’t know how. Suddenly he nodded emphatically and beckoned to me, and then ran off through the crowd.

  The Doctor and I exchanged a curious glance, but then he shrugged and began to lead me in the direction Elasson had gone. We tried to stay out of the way of the grim workers, but it was difficult, and I received a handful of frustrated looks from people I couldn’t help bumping against.

  We continued following Elasson, who entered the “throne room” we had been escorted to yesterday.

  Inside, we saw Basilius sitting in his great chair, marking with a black stick on a thick tablet of some kind. Perekhon stood beside him, ready to follow orders, and another man stood on the other side.

  Elasson approached his brother and bowed his head slightly.

  “Basilius,” he said clearly, “Tonde ton dyoin zenon bouloimen an epimelesthai. Autois gar epithymo tas th’ hestias deixai hemon kai ton dosmon ton hemeteron.”

  “Moros,” Basilius almost growled, then went back to his marking.

  “Philomatheis g’ eisin oude dysmeneis,” Elasson insisted. “Autous pro heliou dyntos epanexo.”

  Basilius waved his hand irritably, not looking up. “Ei de me kairioi epistrepsaite, ton Parekhonta eph’ hymas ekpempso.”

  “Soi charin oida,” Elasson said with a hint of an excited smile. “Pher’ odelphe pisteue de moi.”

  “Out eikos estin.” Basilius used the same scoffing tone towards his brother that Perekhon had the day before. But he went on with his marking, and didn’t look up.

  Taking hold of my other arm gently, Elasson led us out. Once we were outside, he began talking quickly and gladly, seeming to have forgotten that we could not understand him. At the blank looks on our faces, he stopped short and gave a slight sigh. “Egeimi lupeo,” he said in an apologetic tone.

  “That’s alright,” the Doctor nodded.

  “Dad.” I poked him in the ribs with my finger. “How do you know that he said he was sorry?”

  “What difference does it make? He can’t understand what we say either.”

  Here he had me. I was silent for a moment, and then a spark of fun flashed in my mind. “Elasson,” I said cheerfully, “you’re the most hideous looking man I’ve ever seen.”

  Elasson smiled brightly, if a bit bewilderedly.

  The Doctor glared at me. “That’s not funny. You’ll confuse the poor fellow, and he’s not at all bad-looking.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said meekly, but with a mischievous smile.

  Our companion gestured towards the place where I had seen the workers heading earlier, and began to lead us there. The day was already getting warm, even though the sun had not yet risen above the top of the wall. My eyes were itching again, but they didn’t seem any worse than the day before.

  We stopped at a doorway in the back wall, which was over two meters tall and wide enough for four men to walk abreast. Elasson leaned against one side of it and directed our attention to the work going on inside.

  The room that met our eyes was nearly as large as the one we had come from, but entirely different in mood and content. There were rows upon rows of plants, and I realized where our dinner from the night before had come from. I spotted the leaves and berries that we had eaten, and also some of the cactus-like plants that Mr. Whales had observed. There were two or three other kinds of plants, one with small brown bean pods, and one with long, wide, grassy leaves like the one Elasson wore at his waist. But that was all. There was no real fruit, no color except for the dull red of the berries and the sandy yellow of some tiny flowers.

  Dozens of workers knelt in the dirt, carefully cultivating the plants; harvesting, watering, planting. Dozens more bent over shovels and hoes, working the dirt and hacking at weeds. The laborers were mostly male, with a few young women who I assumed were the unmarried. Occasionally one called to another for something, or asked a question in the unfamiliar language, but they were mostly silent. Large blots of perspiration stained their clothes, even though the sun had just begun to peek over the wall, and I could smell it, mixed with the dust and the heat. An oppressive aura pervaded the entire place.

  I glanced at Elasson, who was watching the workers with pity in his dark eyes. They didn’t pause for a second, and I remembered how it had already been growing dark when they ended their work the day before. Did they get any breaks at all? I read in Elasson’s face the sorrow that his people suffered such a hard life, but I understood that it was necessary for their survival. If Basilius was hard on them with regard to their schedules, it was only because he had to be. If they didn’t work, they wouldn’t live.

  But Elasson was leading us away now, and with a last look over my shoulder, I followed, still holding fast to the Doctor’s arm.

  The sun had at last broken fully over the wall, and I shielded my itching eyes with my other hand as we walked directly towards it. The Doctor shaded his as well, and we walked on, paying little attention to anything but the back of Elasson’s head as he led us through the busyness to the room where we had eaten the night before.

  When we entered I was surprised to see the Captain, Crash, and Whales already there. I slid into my seat of the night before, and studied my bowl with a melancholy feeling. I felt real pity for these people, and wondered what God was thinking when he put them here. I could see the Captain’s point very clearly with that coarse green salad before me. It wasn’t that my faith was shaken; I knew that God had created the universe and must have a plan of some kind. But still, there seemed no reason, no purpose for their lives here. Why would God create thinking and feeling people, and then put them on a barren planet like this? I would have been ashamed, however, to say any of this to the Doctor.

  In addition to the leafy delicacy, we also had a hard, flat bread of some kind. I remembered, as I tried to chew it, how I had seen the women grinding beans on stones the afternoon before. The bread was plain enough when it first touched the tongue, but there was a strange, sharp aftertaste that made me hurriedly drink down the cup clear of water that sat in front of me.

  “How did you get here?” the Doctor asked as he chomped down on the bread.

  “We were escorted here a few minutes ago,” the Captain answered. “What have you been doing?”

  “That fellow has been showing us around. I tell you, Trent, you should see the work these people have to do to feed themselves. I wonder they even spare food for us.”

  “I’m not sure I would mind if they didn’t,” Crash said ruefully, pulling an unidentifiable sand-colored object from his meal.

  “Stop it, Crash,” I scolded, not in the mood. “If you had seen them, you’d be grateful—even for this.”

  “Poor devils.” The Captain turned to the Doctor. “Whatever they are, their will to survive is the strongest I’ve ever seen.”

  “And how are everyone’s eyes this morning?” the Doctor asked. I wondered if he had changed the subject intentionally, or if he had just remembered to ask.

  “Itching,” Whales replied, rubbing his as if to demonstrate. “I’d like to get my instruments and do a few tests later on.”

  “Be my guest.” The Captain drained the last dregs of his water and stood up. “I’m taking a walk around the place. Hopefully if we just watch them and don’t
try to interfere they’ll see that we’re no threat.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Crash offered, wiping his mouth with his fingers.

  Whales stood up. “I’m going to get my instruments, and I’ll test whatever I can and get back to you, Captain.”

  “We’re obviously not prisoners at the moment,” the Captain said, “let’s try to keep it that way. Don’t interfere, don’t scare them. Just leave them alone as much as possible and find out whatever you can. We’ll meet later. Everyone has their wristcoms, right? We can communicate with those, just be careful not to let anyone see.”

  He was about to leave with Crash, when he turned back. “Oh Andi, I talked with August this morning. He said to tell you he’s alright, and he sends his love.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Tipping his cap, he left, along with Crash and Mr. Whales.

  X

  Elasson had sat quietly throughout the whole conversation, but now, seeing that we had finished, he jumped up and hurried over to where we had been drawing the night before. I could see traces of my drawing of the Apogee still there, and got up to go to him, which was clearly what he wanted. This time, the Doctor stood, too, and watched quietly from a few feet behind us.

  Clearly he had something definite in mind to communicate, for the moment I sat down he smoothed the sand out and began drawing. He drew a picture of himself and then a girl standing next to a man. The second two figures had their arms intertwined, and I assumed he meant the Doctor and me. Then he drew a long line from us to him and looked up at me.

  “What is the boy trying to say?” the Doctor asked, peering forward at the simple sketch.

  “I think he’s saying we have to stay with him,” I theorized, looking carefully into Elasson’s face. I reached down and erased the Doctor and myself, and then drew us again, closer to Elasson’s figure, and walking towards him. He nodded.