by Jim Laughter
Without another word, George led them toward the hotel and the hot food awaiting them. Later after they’d eaten, they could retire to a room where George would outline his search plans for the next day.
∞∞∞
The winter chill of darkness crept into Delmar’s bones while he watched light fade once again from the winter sky. Another hour of gathering had produced a respectable pile of fuel for the small fire burning in the cave. Fortunately, the wind was unable to reach inside and steal what little heat the small blaze provided.
Delmar sat for several hours near the entrance of the cave and watched the stars appear, filling the sky with glorious wonder. Somehow he knew the stars were a part of his life. He just couldn’t fit them in with what he knew must be true. Everything in his conscious and subconscious told him he belonged out there in the vastness of space. The image of the stars he could see in his mind’s eye always appeared from the vantage point of sitting in a strange sort of chair.
The ease with which the memory appeared this time gave Delmar new hope. Sitting down as comfortably as he could in the rocky cave, he began to pick out the details on the edge of the visual memory. Some of the mental fog lifted with his effort.
The night grew colder and the upper winds brought an artic-chilled air down from the planet poles. The moisture driving in from the mountains that night would help bring about considerable change in the morning. He only hoped he could keep his fire burning. He knew his jacket wouldn’t sustain his body for long.
∞∞∞
“I sure hope that boy found some good shelter.”
Doctor Murphy stood staring out the window at the gathering storm. His words were of little comfort to the others gathered in his office.
It had been two days since Del Erdinata had wondered away without leaving a note. The only indication they had of the direction he’d taken had been determined by a few scattered footprints they’d found in the snow. The prints had been heading out of town toward the box canyons and rough country, but they had lost his trail in the blowing snow after only a couple of miles.
“I’m still worried about him,” Walter said again, voicing his concern. He was about to say more when Sheriff Stoddard caught his eye and cut him off. Abby, frustrated with the whole situation, got up from her chair and began to pace back and forth.
“I think he will be all right,” Doctor Murphy offered, trying to cheer up the others. “After all, he is pretty bright.”
“But he could be freezing out there!” exclaimed Abby.
“Worrying yourself sick won’t help him,” the sheriff offered. “I’ve already gathered a posse of men to look for him in the morning.”
“I want to go with you,” Abby said. “I can ride as well as anyone.”
“If it will make you happy,” agreed the sheriff. “Just don’t expect us to slow down for you though.”
“Don’t start harping at each other,” the doctor said. “We have to work together if we are going to help Del.”
“Nothing can be done until morning,” Walter said. “I’ll see everyone at sunup.”
Walter stood and stretched a kink out of his back. The others watched the shop owner leave, his slow amble not a true reflection of the anxiousness he felt inside.
He has got to be all right, Abby thought hopefully.
She stared out into the gathering gloom. But in her heart, she feared the worst.
∞∞∞
While Leatha pushed the Aurora to her maximum sustainable speed, the comm line at the Sender home rang. Jake rolled over groggily and picked up the bedroom extension.
“Hello?” he managed to say civilly.
Years of ministry night calls had taught him to automatically use friendly tones when the comm line rang. It had also taught him that bad news usually comes at night.
“Reverend Sender?” a mechanical voice said on the other end.
“This is he,” Jake said, puzzled by the strange quality of the voice.
“My name is Ert. I’m a friend of Stan, Leatha, and Delmar.”
“On yes, Ert,” Jake said when he realized who he was talking to. Prior to this, he’d only corresponded with Ert over the computer lines. “How can I help you?”
“I’m actually the one that needs to help you,” Ert answered. “I have news from Leatha and Stan about Delmar. New evidence has surfaced that he may have survived the attack on the destroyed Sector 2046-W mothership.”
“What?” Jake shouted into the comm line.
Sherry bolted instantly awake and Jake motioned for her to pick up her extension. As soon as she was on, Jake spoke again to Ert.
“Ert, please repeat that so my wife can hear it.”
“I said we’ve found strong evidence that Delmar may have survived the attack on the mothership,” Ert repeated. “Stan and another captain are presently searching the planet where the Cabbage Patch may have crashed. Leatha is en route to help them.”
“That’s incredible!” Sherry said over her extension. “Are you sure he’s alive?”
“No, we’re not,” Ert answered. “But there’s evidence to suggest that the Cabbage Patch may have landed fairly intact. If that’s so, Delmar’s chances of survival improve considerably.”
“Then I suspect your call has something to do with us going to Erdinata again?” Jake said into the comm.
“That’s correct. I’m arraigning a fast scout to take you there now. How soon can you be at the spaceport?”
“I don’t know,” Jake answered, looking at his smiling wife. “But I think we’ll probably set a new record.”
“In that case, the fast scout ship will be there and ready within the hour,” Ert said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make several other calls.”
“Ert?” Sherry said. “Have either Leatha or Stan notified the Hassels of this news?”
“No. They’d like for you be with the Hassels if Delmar is found, either dead or alive. Leatha said to leave the way you do it to your best judgment.”
Jake and Sherry heard the line click and knew that Ert had severed the connection.
“Well,” Jake said as hung up his comm line. “It looks like we need to pack again.”
“That’s obvious,” Sherry answered.
She got out of bed and padded toward their bathroom.
“I’m just not sure whether we should pack for another memorial service or a celebration.”
∞∞∞
Melissa waited impatiently for her lesson time to start. Her computer already warmed up, she only had to type one word when the second hand on her wall clock swept past the twelve.
ERT.
HELLO, MELISSA, Ert replied.
HAVE YOU MADE ANY PROGRESS WITH WHAT WE DISCOVERED?
YOU ARE THE ONE THAT DISCOVERED THE CLUE, Ert admonished. AND YES, WE’VE MADE CONSIDERABLE PROGRESS WITH THE NEWS. A SEARCH AND RESCUE MISSION IS NOW UNDERWAY WITH LEATHA FLYING THERE TO PROVIDE BACK-UP.
THAT’S GREAT!
YOUR CLUE WAS CRITICAL, Ert continued. ALTHOUGH MORE SPECIFIC CLUES HAVE SINCE BEEN UNCOVERED, YOUR CLUE GAVE THE FRIENDS AND SEARCHERS HOPE. WITHOUT THAT, THEY WOULDN’T HAVE EVEN NOTICED THE OTHER EVIDENCE.
HAVE THEY FOUND DELMAR OR HIS SHIP?
NOT YET. BUT THERE’S STRONG EVIDENCE THAT HE SURVIVED. I’M IN CONTACT WITH THE PARTIES INVOLVED AND WILL KEEP YOU POSTED. NOW, ARE YOU READY TO BEGIN TODAY’S LESSON?
OF COURSE! Melissa answered. I FEEL READY FOR ANYTHING KNOWING THAT I WAS ABLE TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning arrived but shed no warmth across the fresh snow covering the countryside. Delmar peered out from his small cave hideaway over the bleakness and felt his hopes diminish. He’d managed to stay warm enough through the last two nights, but now he faced even bleaker prospects. His wood supply was nearly gone and the chances of finding more fuel under the fresh snow was remote at best.
Hunger and fatigue were also taking toll on the young man. He was now three days without nourishment. The cold was al
so starting to sap his strength and Delmar knew that help had better find him soon. That is, if anybody was even looking for him.
Delmar made several attempts to strike out on his own in an effort to find help but was stopped short each time. First, he still couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here or even why. As far as he could figure, he’d blacked out until shortly before finding the small cave.
Secondly, if he could remember how he got here, it wouldn’t make much difference. He had no idea in which direction any towns or houses might lie, and he knew the chances of blundering onto one of the scattered homes or settlements was remote.
Resigning himself to another day of waiting in the isolated cave, Delmar let his small fire die to conserve fuel. He curled up as tightly as he could to conserve body heat and once again set his mind to chasing the elusive memories floating just out of reach.
∞∞∞
At the same time Delmar was surveying his situation, other eyes were looking out over the countryside.
“It looks pretty bleak out there,” Sheriff Stoddard said as he prepared to saddle his favorite old horse.
“Do you think we’ll be able to track him in all this snow?” one of the volunteers asked.
“The chances of finding his tracks were never great, considering the rocky terrain,” the sheriff said. “I was hoping the snow might help us find any tracks, but with the wind blowing the way it has, those chances are slim. We might spot smoke if he’s able to start a fire.”
Just as the sheriff finished speaking, Abby entered his office.
“Are you going with us?” the sheriff asked when he noticed she was on foot.
“I have a better idea,” Abby answered. “As soon as the sun is up a bit more, I’m going to take my flyer up and scan the countryside for him. I can cover more ground much faster from the air.”
“Go flying on a day like today?” someone scoffed.
“It can’t be any colder than freezing your backside on horseback,” another offered.
“Well, you do what you want to, Abby,” Sheriff Stoddard finally said. “But I’m not responsible for what might happen. Just take care of yourself so we don’t have to go looking for you too.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Abby returned, and started off toward the airpark. “I’ll rock my wings and drop a flag if I see anything.”
“There goes a fool,” someone growled when Abby was out of earshot.
“No,” the sheriff said as he mounted his horse.
“She’s no fool. I’ve seen her fly. If she says she can fly today, then she can. Let her be. What she can see from the air might make the difference in life or death for that boy.”
∞∞∞
Morning brought the start of another search, but this one in a certain little gift shop. After breakfast at the corner cafe, George and Stan headed out into the cold street. Since George was going to do all of the talking, Stan would carry the small pack containing a portable comm unit and other equipment they might need. Although there was little snow swirling around the streets of Fern Gulch, it was bitterly cold and the wind had a definite bite to it.
The two arrived at the gift shop just as its elderly proprietor unlocked the door. Slipping inside the shop, George and Stan were glad to be out of the wind.
“I’ll be with you boys in a minute,” the old man said, peering over his glasses. “I haven’t had a chance to get the fire started.”
“Here sir, let me help you,” George offered and walked over to the wood box to collect a few pieces of kindling wood and two lengths of firewood. While Stan looked around the shop, it took George and the old man only a few minutes to get a cheery fire going in the pot-bellied stove.
As its heat began to chase the cold from the room, the old man spoke up. “It’s good to see you again, young fellow. I see you brought a friend.”
George nodded. “He’s from out of the country. I showed him the carving I bought here and he wants to take one home with him.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I have a few pieces left there on the back shelf,” the proprietor said, pointing toward the rear of the store.
“In fact, while you two look, I have another piece that one of the tribesmen brought in just after you were here last week.”
The old man shuffled into the rear room while George moved over to where Stan had found the carvings on the shelf.
“Amazing,” Stan whispered.
He examined the small pieces of shaped wood. George nudged him as the proprietor returned with a much larger package.
“One of the native carvers brought this piece in and I haven’t had time put it on the shelf,” the old man volunteered.
He began to peel layers of cloth off of the item. It finally got to be too much to handle with one hand so the three men went back to the high counter at the front of the store. George helped remove the wrappings until the carving stood fully exposed on the counter.
If the small carving was good, this one was a masterpiece. Stan and George marveled that every line and every fitting had been faithfully reproduced on the large carving. The craftsman that sculpted this had used a variety of woods to make the various protuberances of the ship. Even the name and number had been exactly copied in Axia script.
Stan pointed at the nameplate on the right side of the wooden model. George nodded his understanding. Examination of the recovered piece of hull showed that it came from the right side of Delmar’s ship. Apparently, the carver had correctly surmised that the hull and name would be exactly the same on both sides.
“It’s wonderful!” George exclaimed to the proprietor. “I would like to purchase it for my friend here.”
The man’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.
“But I have one request first,” George continued. “We would like to know where the tribe is that produced this carving.”
The man, wary that they might be trying to horn in on his source, answered evasively.
“I’m not really sure. They just show up and peddle their wares to me.”
“Sir, I assure you that we only wish to thank the master that carved this excellent piece of art,” George said diplomatically.
“I’ll pay top price for this piece. Maybe we can even encourage him to bring other examples of his craftwork to your fine shop.”
The old man relaxed when he read the sincerity in the young man’s eyes and considered the lucrative possibilities.
“All right,” he finally answered. “Let me draw you a map.”
He reached for a pencil and paper. While George and the proprietor worked on and discussed the map, Stan carefully rewrapped the precious carving and placed it into the pack with their other equipment.
An hour later found the two troopers beginning their hike out of town. The weather had moderated a little and the two headed out along the trail to the village. George was glad for the map. The worn path was hard to see in the drifting snow.
Following the map drawn by the storeowner, George and Stan hiked into the canyon area near the village. The two troopers had no problem finding the native village and were escorted to the elders. George had little difficulty communicating their desire to see the thing in the cave.
A pair of young hunters volunteered to lead the visitors to the hidden site. As they approached the location, George’s practiced eye studied the rocky terrain of the box canyon.
If it’s here, Delmar chose his hiding site well.
The tribesmen turned off the main trail and climbed up the rocky facing of the canyon wall. Rounding a large outcropping of rock, George and Stan both spotted the cave opening at once. Upon entering the cave to get out of a violent wind that had kicked up, they immediately discerned the patroller secluded in the murky darkness. Stan began his examination of the outside of the damaged ship while the tribesmen stood in awe of the incredible spectacle.
That the ship had taken a beating was obvious. Many of her sensor nodes had been scraped off and several of the hull plates were buckled. Whi
le Stan checked out the damage near the nose, George pointed at the torn skin of the ship.
“There’s where that hull piece came from.”
“Just as Melissa and Ert surmised.” Stan said.
He removed his backpack and extracted a portable light. They walked around the ship to the main hatch. While George held the light, Stan entered the access code Ert had provided. When the hatch refused to budge, George examined the indicator lights. The tribesmen stood by and watched, amazed these strange men would act so casually around something that obviously belonged among the stars.
“The power is completely down,” George said after a moment. “We’ll have to open it manually.”
“Probably landed the ship on its last gasp of life,” Stan agreed while George started the manual process.
After a moment, the hatch swung open, allowing the troopers access to the ship. The tribesmen followed cautiously behind Stan and George, careful not to disturb the sleeping heavenly giant.
The fear of finding Delmar’s decimated body suddenly overwhelmed Stan. Fighting back a wave of panic, he entered the ship. The first thing he saw was a discarded pressure suit on the floor.
“Looks like he made it this far.”
He could see the suit had been used. He reached down and gently lifted the garment off the floor.
“There are traces of blood here on the collar.”
“He’s not in the ship,” George said after checking the other compartments. “Let’s check outside. He may have wandered off, or we may find his body out among the rocks.”
Exiting the ship, ushering the tribesmen ahead of them, they were instantly aware that any of Delmar’s boot prints would have been obliterated long ago by the tracks left by the natives while carving the artifact. Looking out toward the mouth of the cave, Stan sensed that he only had a limited time in which to find his friend.
While George and the tribesmen examined the rough terrain, the portable comm unit in the pack beeped for attention. Stan walked over, retrieved the instrument, and activated it.
“Trooper Shane here,” he said into the comm unit.
“Hey, lover!” came back Leatha’s happy voice. “Ert filled me in. I’m in stationary orbit above you right now. Looks like you have a storm headed your way.”