by Mills, Shae
Almost as time-consuming as working on the fine leather clothing was constructing her large fur blankets. The Batex were not big animals, and stitching together numerous pelts to produce a single blanket was laborious. But Chelan took pride in her work, carefully matching grains and hide thickness to produce lovely, generously sized blankets. Stacking a couple of them together on the floor made the most wonderful padding, and when she drew the furs over her at night for warmth, she was in heaven. Combining a line of Batex bedding with a line of Batex loincloths, and well, she could just imagine the interest.
Chelan frequently lapsed into absurd thoughts about Iceanea and Earth, often working for hours on absolutely ridiculous scenarios just to keep her mind occupied. Reaching into the file cabinets of her memories was her way of dealing with the extreme loneliness. But through it all, she often doubted her own tenacity. Maybe it was just a matter of time before she would go mad. It was not so much that she was alone right now; it was the fact that she knew there was no hope for the future.
But then Chelan smiled. Maybe she should try taming one of the small furry creatures rather than continually slaughtering them. Who knew, maybe they made good pets? The Iceaneans didn’t have the time or need for pets, so as far as she knew no one had ever tried keeping a little Batex. But Chelan decided she would not try, either. Someday it would leave her, and, with the desperate loneliness she was feeling, she didn’t think she could cope with that inevitability.
*****
Chelan’s fingers were sore from another long day of sewing, and she stripped away her clothing to take a long soak in the pool. She had explored the main cavern completely but had not ventured into any of the small side tunnels. Most of them were too high for her to reach, and the rest were too dark. Besides, there was no reason to go any further. She had all that she needed right here.
She was curious, however, about the cave’s ventilation system, as some of the tunnels were quite breezy, while others appeared static. It was obvious that the rock was adequately fissured to provide good oxygen exchange, for she reasoned that the entrance she had fallen through was normally sealed. But she also knew by the breezes that it was a dynamic cave, probably having more than two apertures open at least most of the time. Also, the fact that the ice on the roof and down along the upper areas of the walls was preserved indicated dynamic circulation.
Chelan understood that the complexity of the cavern’s ventilation system was vast, because for the most part, the cavern’s conditions seemed relatively stable. She knew the air at the top was frigid, while the air along the floor remained comfortable. The exchanges and the forces that had to be in constant operation to maintain such a delicate balance were fascinating. There had to be an intricate yet stable interaction between the heat of the world’s mantle below her and the severely cold climate above her. But just how they worked together, she knew she would never know. She just prayed that things did not change, and from what she could see of the fragile formations about her, they did not.
For Chelan, today was going to be special. It was time to venture to the surface, and she was excited. All her bruises and injured joints had healed, save her right shoulder, and she suspected that it would remain sore indefinitely because of the damage done by Solis’ blade. Her only other problem was her weak right ankle, but she was not going to wait forever.
She lifted herself from the pool and allowed her body to dry. Then she dressed in her full uniform and sheathed her knives. She picked up her lazgun and headed up the smooth incline that would eventually lead her to the surface.
As she continued, the slope increased, and the lighting dimmed momentarily. Chelan continued to trudge along, realizing for the first time just how far she had shuffled her damaged body so many months ago.
Soon, she was at the all-too-familiar ice-rock interface, and the air temperature began to plummet. She looked up the ice tunnel for a long time, wondering if she should attempt it. Curiosity finally gave her the courage she needed, and she took a deep breath to bolster her determination. The slope was about forty-five degrees, and the ice surface was smooth. She drew her blade and began the arduous task of chipping out her footholds, and finally, she began her ascent.
Chelan quickly discovered that she had slid down an incredibly long way. When she first peered up toward the surface, the entrance to the tunnel appeared almost within reach, but after toiling for hours, it was no closer. It was as if she was being teased by a mirage.
The extreme brightness that streamed down the tunnel was obviously a function of the bizarre optical properties of the icy walls. The shaft acted similarly to a fiber optic tube, and Chelan felt as though she was floating in a sea of shimmering blue. The longer she ascended, the more surreal the experience. If not for the pull of gravity, she would have had no idea which way was up.
As the hours passed, she was forced to take breaks to eat and drink, but she forged on. After she had painstakingly traversed nearly 150 linear meters, she reached what appeared to be the surface. Chelan shivered from the cold even though she could now plainly see what she could not before, that the entrance was indeed sealed. She wondered if it was the force of her body coupled with the weight of a tremendous pile of snow and ice that had cracked the surface and allowed her entry, but unless she knew the depth of the ice lens, she had no way of knowing if that was even possible.
Chelan was mystified and awestruck at the same time as she thought about the conditions that had to align to maintain such a tunnel. And what had made the tunnel in the first place was a complete conundrum. Chelan worked through the ecological conditions of the Dead Zone over and over, and nothing she could possibly think of presented a solution.
Then she looked up at the nearly totally transparent plug. Since the entire tunnel was like a strange optical illusion, she knew there was no way to get an accurate idea of the lens’s thickness. But the fact that she had made it through somehow on that fateful day led Chelan to believe it was a lot thinner than the cavern ceiling.
She watched the ice lens carefully for a long time while she rested. She could see wisps of snow flitting past and the odd shadow possibly cast by passing atmospheric clouds. She knew that this area of the Dead Zone was extremely turbulent and that the high winds rarely stopped. It was that fact that kept the cavern lit for the most part, but Chelan was now aware that the conditions could change abruptly. It was possible that a mountain of snow could be deposited in this area and remain for an extended period of time, thus plunging her into never-ending darkness. Therefore, her next projects would be to learn the cave intimately by touch and to always make sure her stores of food were readily accessible. It would be a necessary exercise for her survival if she were ever pitched into an unrelenting night.
Chelan took a deep breath. She wondered if she should endeavor to chip a hole in the ice to get an idea how thick it was, but there was really no point. It would be unbearably cold if she did break through, and it would be an exercise in futility anyway, as she was not going anywhere. But her biggest deterrent was the fact that she had no eye protection. She was well aware that even a minor injury here without any medical supplies could prove fatal.
Chelan looked back down the slope apprehensively. She never did like going down as much as she did up. Her trip was long and onerous as she carefully moved down her footholds. The journey seemed to take an eternity, and as she reached the interface, she knew she would not be making the trek again.
Chelan sat at the base of the ice and surveyed the rock walls that had been her constant companions for so long in the beginning. They seemed so familiar and yet so alien. Chelan smiled. It did not matter what they were; her warm cavern was definitely home now, and she descended back into its loving embrace. “Home sweet home,” she whispered. A terribly sparse and lonely home, but she had no alternative. Too many months had passed, and all searches would have long ago been abandoned. If she surfaced now, she would simply be shot by a fighter. Chelan sat down. So this was it, and she had n
o choice but to accept her inevitable fate, that of eternal isolation.
Chapter 20
Chelan looked at her markings in the ice. Five Iceanean months. One very long Earth year, and the time would get longer yet. She removed her uniform and slipped into one of her soft, two-piece sarongs. It was time once again to work out.
Since her trip to the surface she had begun to train regularly using rocks for weights and isometrics for the rest of her body. She put herself through rigorous daily stretching exercises, and she could now tie herself in knots with her extreme flexibility.
Chelan was a ball of sweat, but she pushed on. She had finally got back most, if not all, of her muscle tone. But her aerobic fitness was lagging, and she knew that it probably always would. Her ankle was better, but it was not perfect, and she wondered if indeed her injury was permanent. Her only other complaint was her right shoulder, and she knew that arthritis was probably setting into it. She had to pay special attention to it, keeping it warm and making sure that she took it through a full range of motion several times a day. Chelan smirked. She should go back to the Empire some day just to give Solis a bad time, and she laughed.
Soon, she was exhausted. She stripped and slid into the cleansing pool. So far, none of her furs had molted, and she began to wonder about the strange properties of the water. She knew that the Batex drank it, but she could not. Although it seemed to have wonderful medicinal properties and was great for preserving hides, she somehow felt that it was safer to melt ice and to keep the pond for external use only. She still had enough of the food concentrate to supply small doses of any vitamins and minerals that were lacking in the meat, but at some later time, that would run out. She had already contemplated eating the Batexes’ organs if she needed to supplement, but the mineral-laden water was also a possibility. However, just what the water contained besides minerals was still to be determined.
Chelan pulled herself from the pool and flicked the water from her hard body, then dried herself with a pelt. She slipped back into her uniform and stacked her wet hair on top of her head, binding it with a length of tie. She thought of taking a nap, but that was not to be.
Suddenly, her world rocked. Chelan was tossed to the side, and she crashed into the cavern wall. Recovering, she stayed pressed in against it, her eyes wide with fear, her chest heaving.
Then, as abruptly as the shaking had started, it stopped. “What the hell?” she whispered as she strained to hear. She grabbed her shroud and threw it on, drawing the protective hood over her head.
She could detect a faint swooshing sound, and then her world shook again. Instantly she was on her feet, running for the cavern entrance. If she stayed in the cave she knew she could be hit by falling debris, and if all hell broke loose, the entire ceiling could come down.
Chelan stopped at the entrance and pressed against the wall, holding her breath. There was a resounding crack followed by thunder, and Chelan was knocked to her knees by the tremors that shook the cavern.
She struggled to her feet again as small stalactites and columns tumbled before her. She covered her head and raced up the tunnel, but abruptly she stopped, her ears picking up a rumbling from above. She pressed hard against the wall instinctively, just as an avalanche of snow and ice came tumbling past her, threatening to take her with it. She dug her fingers into a crevice and clung to the rock with all her strength. Finally the flow began to abate, and Chelan slumped to her knees as she tried to catch her breath.
When all seemed calm and quiet, Chelan could feel the rush of fresh frigid air, and she knew that the plug enclosing her cavern had ruptured. She reached inside her shroud and dug out her protective face shield. Yanking it over her head, she began to run up to the rock-ice interface. Most of the material that had cascaded down the tunnel had slid right off the ice section of the entrance, and Chelan had to clear only small amounts of debris to find the footholds she had carved out some months back. Taking a deep breath, she began the hurried trip toward the surface. She climbed as quickly as she dared, covering the distance that had taken hours before in mere minutes.
Near the top, she stopped and waited. She listened carefully for sounds and then proceeded. Cautiously, she came to the opening and squinted against the brilliant sunlight. Chelan’s eyes scanned the sky as she huddled near the tunnel entrance, poised to dive back into her protective hole should she need to.
Then came a tremendous boom, and Chelan cowered, recognizing the supersonic blast of Imperial fighters. Rapid-fire explosions sounded in the distance, and she scampered back down into the tunnel and prayed that she was deep enough to avoid detection. She remained unmoving for a long time until she was sure that they were gone, and then warily she approached the surface again.
Chelan popped her head above the ice and searched the sky, but it was clear. Rising slightly higher, she began to survey the horizons, but her gaze was suddenly diverted downward, and her heart stopped. There, not more than 100 meters away, was a downed and smoldering Imperial fighter.
Chelan was instantly out of the tunnel and on the run. Then she skidded to a halt. Her mind was telling her one thing, her heart another. Chelan gasped for air as she struggled with her dilemma. She could not be discovered, and yet someone might need help.
Chelan crouched to the ground, her eyes once again scanning the heavens for fighters. What if she knew the pilot? What if he or she knew her? She bolted to her feet, sprinting. It did not matter. Someone needed her.
Her heart pounded in her ears, and her lungs burned from exertion. But as she approached the wreck, her optimism began to fade. The fighter was in poor condition to say the least. Chelan swallowed hard and clutched at her aching chest, her disappointment nearly knocking the wind from her.
She moved cautiously up to the ship and then ducked behind the mass of torn fuselage, her eyes once again scanning the sky. Gathering all her courage, she straightened and hustled toward the mangled cockpit, scared to death to look inside. Holding her breath, she stopped and peered in. But it was empty, and Chelan was instantly consumed both by panic and by grief. Then she crumpled to the ground and tried to gather her scattering thoughts. She realized now why she had risked all to come to the fighter. She was lonely, and she wanted desperately to see another human being. Chelan took several deep breaths. Either the pilot had jettisoned or the other fighters had picked him or her up.
Chelan pushed herself to her feet, but her somber thoughts ended abruptly as she picked out a shrouded body thrown clear of the wreck. Chelan lurched into action and bolted to the fallen figure. She skidded to a halt and fell to her knees beside the form. It was obviously male, judging simply by the large size, but for Chelan it did not matter. He just had to be alive.
The man was facedown, and as Chelan caught her breath, she gently pulled back his hood. Then she worked slowly to remove the flight helmet and slipped it off. Chelan felt drained and exhilarated at the same time, yet somehow she knew that she would simply perish if the man was dead. She held her breath and placed her ear to his back. Hope suddenly surged through her heart. “Oh god, he’s alive!” she cried. Carefully, she felt along his neck and down his spine, looking for breaks, but all felt fine.
Then Chelan sat back on her heels in confusion. Why had they left him? The reconnaissance missions were always carried out with a number of fighters. All were heavily armed for protection, and recovering the injured man should have been easy. Chelan shuddered. Maybe they would come back for him, and she scanned the sky again. But then why wouldn’t they leave someone here to attend and protect him in the meantime?
But Chelan received her answer instantly as she was hit with a blast of ice crystals. She sheltered her eyes as she looked behind her toward her tunnel. There it was, the leading front of another monstrous ice storm, almost upon her.
Chelan jumped to her feet, her thoughts in disarray. She didn’t have time to check for further injuries. She had to move him fast, but she knew that he was too heavy for her to carry. She looked around fr
antically and then spotted a chunk of fragmented fuselage. Chelan dragged it over to him and strained to roll the man onto it. Then she ran to the cockpit and ripped the emergency kit from the sidewall, flinging it at the man’s body.
Chelan tugged on the metal and was relieved to find that it slid relatively easily over the frozen surface. She moved as rapidly as she could toward her refuge, the strong winds of the storm beginning to pound into her. Once at the edge of the tunnel, she encountered another problem—how to lower him safely.
But she realized she had no time to ponder the issue as the near hurricane-force winds hit her. Chelan stood to maneuver around the fuselage and was nearly blown away. With one huge tug she drew him into the tunnel, and instantly both of them were careening down the ice slope at a dangerous speed.
But their stop was unexpectedly gentle as the debris from the surface avalanche cushioned their fall and slowed their breakneck descent. Chelan scrambled to her feet and looked to the surface just as the light grew dim. Then she peered down at the black figure, his face protector still drawn over his features.
The light was diminishing rapidly, and she had to move fast. She knelt beside him and she tore at his shroud. Once she had stripped it away, she looked over him and her heart sank. He had a wound in his upper thigh, and it was deep and severe. The jagged flesh was agape, spilling his lifeblood as fast as his powerful heart could pump it.
Chelan bolted to her feet and ran down into the cavern to retrieve a bundle of her soft cloths. She returned and dropped to her knees by his side. Frantically, she pushed on his torn flesh, forcing it back together as best she could. Then she pressed several of the cloths over the wound as hard as she dared. As they became soaked, she added more, and finally the torrents of blood began to ebb.