After she had pulled herself up she didn’t release the rappelling cord but attached it to her waist so she could use it like a spider’s anchor if she fell. She found the branches were wide enough to walk on and it was possible to travel from tree to tree. She had little doubt that if she could do this then so could other creatures.
She was considering that it might provide the safest place for her to spend the night, but she was unsure. The broad leaves sat out horizontally either side of her, yet there were enough gaps for her to see the ground below. She decided it was a good vantage point. She had seen no sign of fauna, not even small animals, but perhaps they had seen or heard her first and therefore remained out of sight. As the light started to fade, she sensed that the whole mood of the forest was changing. There was little or no wind in the trees, so every sound was accentuated. There was nothing nearby, but in the distance she could hear low and mournful calls into the night. It was a strange environment, almost bewitching in its mysteriousness; the combination of failing light and unidentified sounds was both haunting and disconcerting.
She sat herself down on a bough with her back to the trunk. She wondered if it was safer to spend the night aloft or on the ground. She was soon convinced however to stay where she was. She heard a shuffling sound below her and looked down to see a grey-brown animal the size of a small cow, but with fearsome-looking tusks that gave it the appearance of an overgrown wild boar. It was roughly the colour of the ground itself and she almost missed it, before realising that there was a small mob of them. She counted half a dozen, but there could have been more. They were almost silent and they looked like a formidable group of beasts, heavily muscled shoulders below their smooth-haired coats. She would not like to have to deal with one in isolation, let alone a group of them. They appeared to be on the prowl like a pack of wolves.
As the darkness grew she used her visor’s night vision to see what activity there was around her. There still didn’t appear to be anything else in the trees, and on the ground she made out smaller animals. The boar-wolf pack she saw earlier didn’t reappear. She figured that they were probably territorial and she was unlikely to see another pack in the same vicinity. She raised her night vision visor and tried to acclimatise her vision to the night, otherwise she knew she would never get to sleep. The moaning distant sounds she’d heard during twilight had abated, and now she just heard the occasional rustle on the ground below. She knew from experience that every little sound would wake her through the night; she was starting to miss Alfa already. She quickly dismissed the thought from her mind though – she had set a course and there was no turning back, even at this early stage.
She had taken her backpack off so she could use it as a pillow and her rappelling gun was attached to it, above her head, but within easy reach. She left her visor open and set her suit thermally for sleep. She was unaware of the discontinuity that must occur between consciousness and dreams as the sounds around her contributed to visions of boar-wolves and imaginary creatures of the night slinking through the forest. Then there was silence.
Unknown to her, almost as soon as her body had settled into the rhythm of sleep, the broad leaves on either side of her slowly raised themselves and then gradually but inexorably folded over her in a silent embrace. The leaves even managed to separate her resting head from her backpack without waking her up. Eventually she was completely enveloped from head to foot, so that from all external appearances she was now a giant cocoon fixed to the limb. Only her backpack, crossbow and the rappelling line attached to her waist were visible from the outside.
She was never sure what woke her. It may have been the complete lack of sound, or maybe she just realised somehow that she’d been cut off from the rest of the world – there was no understanding how a person sensed something untoward. Most likely it was simply the fact that she could no longer move. She quickly realised that she was trapped by the very tree she had taken refuge in, and that this was one of those traps where the more one struggled the tighter it became. She found it very difficult to calm her mind when her heart was already pounding in her ears, but it wasn’t hard to maintain stillness when she knew it could determine the difference between life and death.
She assumed that her rappelling line was still intact but it wasn’t much use to her in her present predicament. She considered using her stun guns but was unsure of the consequences. A charge of electricity may well have the opposite effect to what was intended. It may cause the tree’s strangle hold to increase rather than relent, and she was not in a position to experiment. Besides, this was a tree, not an animal, and from her experience, it took a lightning strike to kill a tree.
While she was considering her options, she was aware that the leaves were slowly moving in an attempt to constrict her even more as well as secreting a fluid – no doubt an aid to its digestion. Her suit of armour responded to the liquid by shutting her visor and covering her hands in a second skin, which made it even more difficult to use them, as they were trapped under her chin. She was now breathing through a filter, and she wondered how much oxygen she may have.
So far her suit was showing no signs of failing, but she felt like an insect in its exoskeleton and couldn’t help wondering how she’d cope if there was even a small breach in its skin. She knew she just couldn’t lay there until the plant gave up – trees were infinitely patient compared to most life forms. In the end, she decided, she’d use her stun guns as a last resort; she believed she had a more appropriate instrument to deal with this horror, if only she could reach it.
She had gone to sleep on her left side with her knees slightly bent and her arms up against her chest. Now she was unable to straighten her legs and her arms were trapped like they were in a straight jacket. Nevertheless, she had some movement in her hands; it all depended on how she used them. The plant worked like a boa constrictor, a large snake from Old Earth. As its victim breathed it took up the slack until eventually the animal couldn’t breathe at all, and then it suffocated, not from lack of air but lack of ability to draw breath. She, herself, was at risk of drowning if the plant’s digestive fluid got past her suit’s filters; time was not on her side at all. Because she was half curled up with her arms against her chest, she was still able to breathe. She noticed that her heart had stopped pounding now because she was thinking rather than reacting; either that or the primitive part of her brain had given up the fight, which she knew could happen even amongst humans; the calmness people sometimes described when drowning, after the initial panic had failed to save them.
Because she was half curled up, the plant had forced her into an even tighter ball, and Elvene began to wonder if it was trying to break her neck with sheer force. She was so restrained, with her arms and elbows pinned into her body, that the simple feat of getting her hand down to her waist was going to be an act of utter contortion. She started to move slowly, just her right hand sliding down her left arm, with virtually no movement in her elbows at all. She was also trying not to agitate the plant any more than she had already. The hard part was at the halfway stage when she had her right hand almost doubled over against her left elbow.
At this point she felt completely stymied. Being doubled over meant that she couldn’t move either elbow down out of the way. If she could just get her right hand past her elbow so that she could reach the belt at her waist, then freedom would be hers. She knew however that if she couldn’t complete this simple manoeuvre she was doomed.
Instead, she turned her hand over and forced her gloved fingers between her left elbow and her rib cage. Even then, with only her fingertips free, it required all her focus and will to release the sheath at her belt that held her laser-knife. All the while she felt the plant was compressing her, affecting her breathing and restraining her movements as if it knew what she was trying to do. It had become a battle of strength and willpower, and it was frustrating to know that she could be so close and yet still lose the fight.
Eventually, she felt the laser-knife in her
fingers, but it was facing the wrong way. She had to turn it around so that it was pointing outwards before she could activate it. Meanwhile her ability to move, and even to think, was becoming ever more limited. It even occurred to her, that if she turned the laser on in its present position, she could suicide by disembowelling herself, but her immediate reaction was to think that if she could use it against herself, she could use it against her tormentor. With that sole thought in her mind she did manage to turn it about and then its effect was instantaneous.
There was a sizzling sound like cooking flesh, and then she was released with the leaves thrown out like coiled up springs. Elvene sat up, but felt unable to rise further. She observed the damaged leaves on either side of her; some had even been truncated. Wisps of smoke drifted from all the wounds. If the tree could scream, she had no doubt it would have been heard throughout the forest.
An odorous, yellowish fluid dripped off her suit and she was unsure how to deal with it. She didn’t want to renew her travels smelling like a half-eaten animal, yet she had no means to wash herself. Sleep seemed out of the question, yet she felt that the safest place in the forest now was right where she sat so she stayed there. She attached the laser-knife to her wrist by a cord and settled back down on the limb. She eventually went back to sleep, almost against her will. During the night it rained, causing her suit to react again so she didn’t get wet. If the rain woke her she didn’t remember, but morning revealed that the tree’s fluid was essentially gone. In the light of day she could see that the leaves had healed themselves, leaving deep scars, but the tree had left her alone.
Myka started to construct a prototype raft. He only had childhood stories and his imagination to work with, but he took two canoes, removed their outriggers and built a platform between them. He knew that his first effort was too small, but still, on the second day, he took it out into the open sea to see how it worked. Other members of the tribe watched with some curiosity.
His father left him alone and said nothing about it to anyone. When asked by the Elders, he told them that the boy needed something to take his mind off the Ocean Woman, and it was best to let him experiment.
After his first prototype, Myka realised that he would need a rudder. Also he wanted to build a shelter on his boat and a mast for a sail. As the work progressed others came to help, including those who had more experience in boat construction. This led to a third boat and after many days of continuous work, and trial and error, he believed he had a working craft.
Myka, of course, had no idea that Elvene was still on his planet, albeit on the other side, nor that there were marauders patrolling as satellites overhead. In fact, since he’d started his new endeavour, he found that Elvene and the marauders occupied little of his daytime thoughts. Only at night did he truly sense her absence, when a combination of sexual longing and sensual memories besieged his mind. But Myka never lacked single-mindedness and he saw his new venture as an escape from such memories. He knew that, realistically, Elvene was an unforgettable transitory stage in his life and he was young enough to appreciate that the future was far more important than the past. He saw Elvene as a significant step in his destiny, and that their intimacy was a fortunate by-product rather than the purpose of their encounter. At least that was how he framed it in his own mind, and that his current venture was the obvious outcome of that encounter. From his viewpoint, if he did not rise to this challenge then he was wasting an opportunity made possible by her, and relinquishing his own destiny at the same time.
So day after day he made his preparations. He had quickly got used to working with a sail which was more like a blade, being made from firehardened bark rather than fabric and he was starting to get used to the relationship between swell and wind which enabled him to maintain a steady course against the sky. Myka would have been quite happy to make the journey solo but the Elders insisted he take at least one other. Myka asked Rafta if he wanted to join him but, when he answered no, he didn’t press him. To Myka’s surprise, his old friend Sendra approached him and asked him if he could volunteer.
He and Sendra had scarcely spoken at all since Elvene had left. Both men had grown, but Sendra had filled out considerably compared to Myka’s lithe frame, even though Myka was slightly taller. Under other circumstances, Myka would have found him intimidating, but there was nothing threatening about Sendra’s demeanour. It was obvious to Myka, that Sendra was unsure how he would receive him. He approached Myka one day close to sundown while he was working on his craft, the ocean lapping at the beach. Myka was very surprised to see him.
‘Hello, Myka.’ It was a tentative start like someone feeling the water with their toes.
‘Sendra.’ Myka was cordial if not friendly and kept eye contact until Sendra spoke again.
‘They say you are going away.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you think you will come back?’
‘I don’t know.’ Myka kept working but looked at Sendra when he spoke.
‘You need someone to go with you.’
‘That’s right.’ He stopped what he was doing and watched Sendra intently.
‘Before the Ocean Woman came, we did a lot of things together. I was never as good on the water as you are, but I can fish okay and ...’ He seemed stuck for words. ‘...maybe I can help.’
‘Why would you want to come, Sendra? I mean, leave your family behind?’
‘I’m not sure, actually. But I ask myself how I would feel if you were gone and I was here. I’d be wondering what you were up to and what you were seeing. I’d just prefer to be with you than to be wondering. Someone has to go with you and if it wasn’t me then I would feel that I let you down.’ He looked away, before speaking again, ‘Letting the Ocean Woman come between us was really stupid. We were always friends before that and now...’
‘And now she’s gone we can be friends again.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘It’s okay. You are right – it was stupid. We’ve both changed, Sendra, both grown older.’
Myka took a deep breath and looked out at the sea. ‘It says something, Sendra, that you came to me and not me to you. If I can take you outside on this craft and you don’t get seasick and you can steer her then I would be happy to have you with me.’
Sendra stayed with Myka and helped him with the craft. They didn’t say much after that, but they didn’t part until sundown.
The next day Myka took Sendra out and showed him how to steer the craft and how to use the wind to provide motion. This was a whole new experience to Sendra and to his surprise was much more exciting than he expected.
‘Why haven’t people done this before?’ he asked.
‘Well, as a matter of fact, they have, but I think it’s because every time someone builds one and then sails off beyond these horizons, they never come back.’
‘And now we are going to do the same.’
Myka looked at him before answering. ‘That’s right. You don’t have to do this, you know. This is something I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I first went out in a pelon.’
Sendra just watched him for a while before responding. ‘Do you remember that day when we went down to the beach and saw her pelon in the harbour, only it looked like a giant fish?’
‘Yes, I will never forget.’
‘Tell me honestly, Myka, you knew what it was, didn’t you?’
‘No, Sendra, I had no idea what it was. But I’d dreamt about it the night before, that’s all.’
In Kiri culture, premonitory dreams were not considered abnormal, but it was also well known that not everyone had them.
‘Have you had any dreams about this journey or what you might find?’
‘No, none at all.’ There was a lengthy silence, so Myka asked the obvious question. ‘Does that change your mind?’
‘No, of course not.’ But even to Sendra’s own ears, he didn’t sound convincing. ‘It’s just Myka, that I know you wouldn’t go if you thought it wasn
’t possible.’
‘I feel compelled to go, as if it’s in my blood, but that doesn’t compel anyone else to go with me.’
‘I understand.’
Myka didn’t expect anyone else to share his passion for this voyage and he believed that Sendra’s interest was out of a sort of loyalty or curiosity, though he couldn’t really be sure. He knew that sometimes people were tempted to live vicariously through other people’s lives, but he felt that such a view of Sendra’s loyalty undermined the value of true friendship. He realised now that under the spell of Elvene’s charms, both physical and otherworldly, he’d temporarily lost that perspective.
Little else was said but they stayed out the whole day and even into the night. Myka showed him the stars that gave him their bearings and explained how they traced arcs across the sky.
‘In reality,’ he said, ‘we travel with the sky and the islands pass us by rather than the other way round. That is how we always know where we are.’
‘You mean, You know where You are.’ Sendra said, emphasising the second person.
‘I guess we will find out. Like you, I haven’t actually done this before.’ Except in Elvene’s ship, Myka thought, but he wasn’t going to try and explain that to Sendra. So far everything she’d told him and shown him had turned out to be correct, but he knew that when the real test came he’d have to bet his life on it, and now Sendra’s as well.
Elvene quickly got into a routine. She killed small game with her crossbow – some were birdlike, though furred rather than feathered, which reminded her of bats. They were like small versions of the flying wolf, which Myka had called presperas, and had four legs as well as wings.
She was careful about using any of her technological aids, but then she had no need of any form of electromagnetic communication since she’d left Alfa. She hadn’t met any large predators since her first night and she still slept in the trees, after trimming the leaves back with her laser-knife. She did find some fruit but always checked for toxicity before eating them. She knew that eating anything on the planet was a risk, but she had a diagnostic wand that allowed her to check for most pathogens and poisons, and she wanted to save her emergency rations for real emergencies. She also carried a suicide capsule but she tried not to think about that.
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