“Hold it off,” she whispered to herself. “Hold it off…” She kept holding the cyclic aft until it felt like they were about to slide backward onto the Huey’s tail, and then she exhaled and let off the cyclic pressure. The nose started to fall back toward the horizon, and Mara glanced at her attitude indicator to make sure she brought the helicopter all the way to a level position.
And with her left hand, she pulled.
She held her breath and pulled upward in as smooth and steady a movement as she could manage. She pulled and kept pulling, forcing the Huey’s rotor to use all of the energy she’d shoved at it to cushion their landing as the skids touched down on crack-webbed mud of what looked like a dry lakebed. The rotor noise changed in pitch; the scream became a moan as she converted all of the rotor speed into lift.
The Huey skidded forward for a few feet, bouncing slightly, before shuddering to a stop and rocking first forward, then aft on the skids. Above them, the rotor swooped once, twice, slow enough for Mara to look up through the greenhouse and see the individual blades in turn. On the master caution panel in front of them, several lights blazed, showing that the engines were, in fact, no longer working.
But they’d done it.
Mara drew in a deep shuddering breath and closed her eyes. For just a moment, the memory of her son’s face flashed behind her eyelids, and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying. Her hands shook. Everything shook.
“You did it!”
Ozendi’s triumphant tone jolted Mara out of her daze. Her eyes snapped open, and she took another breath.
“We did it,” she said on the intercom, pleased to hear her voice as steady and calm as before. “I’m gonna do an emergency shutdown. We’re not on fire anymore, so you stay put. We probably spread the skids a little bit, and I don’t want the rotor taking your head off.”
Her hands flew over the switches required to shut down the remaining systems on the aircraft. Once the rotor was stopped and the battery off, she reached up and removed her helmet, hoping that Ozendi couldn’t see the tremor that remained in her hands.
“Well,” she said brightly, hoping it sounded like she was joking. “I got us here. Your turn; what’s next?”
* * *
It turned out Mara already knew what was next. Once the blades had slowed to a stop and she’d shut everything down, she and Ozendi got out of the aircraft and took stock.
“Well, she’s fucked six ways from Wednesday,” Mara said, disgust and anger mingling in her tone as she looked up at the charred ruin of her number one engine. “How does number two look?”
“The cowling is glowing red,” Ozendi called to her from the other side of the aircraft. “I can’t open it to take a look.”
“Awesome,” Mara said. “Well, okay. We knew we weren’t flying out of here anyway, so I guess this doesn’t change anything. Lucky for us, Murphy just sent down a full maintenance response team. If we can get them out here, they might be able to figure out how to salvage her…if we knew where ‘here’ was, that is.”
Ozendi appeared at the nose of the aircraft. “I know where we are,” he said, a slightly distracted frown creasing his features.
Mara blinked, then stared at him. “You do?”
“Of course. Remember, I told you I grew up in these mountains. That’s how I knew about this flat space where the creek floods in the winter.”
“That’s right!” Mara said. All of a sudden, she remembered the satellite imagery they’d been using for navigation. She lunged for the cockpit door, leaned in, and pulled the crinkled pages from the map holder on the copilot’s side.
“Here,” she said, shoving the maps at him. “Can you mark our location on this map?”
“I can,” he said. But his voice held doubt, and his frown deepened as he met her eyes. “But Mara, I don’t think I should. I know our location, and how to get back to the settlement…but those people who shot at us…”
“Yeah, who were those assholes?” she asked, anger further jacking up the jittery adrenaline dump skittering along her nerves. “I thought the indigenous R’Baku didn’t have modern firearms technology.”
“Most do not. And those who have it do not reveal or use it lightly.”
“So, who—?”
“I do not think those who attacked us are R’Baku. I am not certain, but I fear that they may be raiders from Jrar. If they find us or these maps…”
Mara froze at this unexpected answer. Unable to help herself, she glanced over her right shoulder at R’Bak’s slowly setting sun, profoundly orange as it sank toward the horizon.
“Raiders?” she asked softly. “Do you mean a scout team? Like the ones who were stopped by my people when we arrived? Or have the Searing culls come early?”
“One of those. I know not which. What I do know is that they cannot be allowed to find our settlement!” Intensity throbbed through his tone, and his dark eyes went hard with controlled horror.
“Yeah,” she said. “With my people there, I can see how that would be bad. Okay then, this is out of my realm of experience. What do you think we should do?”
Ozendi shook his head and shoved a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “It’s not just that. The settlement itself—” He broke off, shook his head again, then appeared to force himself to focus on her question. “We must get back as quickly as possible. There is a woodcutter’s road from the settlement that passes near here, but I am hesitant to use it.”
“Yeah, if they’re looking for us, we should stay away from roads.”
“We should be able to hike out cross-country, but the way is difficult. Sometimes, rock- or mud-slides leave it impassable.”
“Then hiking back is what we’ll do,” Mara said, reaching out her hand to rest it on his forearm. “We’ll get what we need from the bird and head that way. We’ve got a little time before both the sun and the primary set, yes? Let’s get as far away as we can and then we’ll stop for the night when we find a good spot.”
Ozendi nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, that is good. That is what we should do.”
“All right,” Mara said. “Grab your bag, fill it with the fruit and stuff that Naliryiz sent with us. Grab the maps, too, and anything else that’s easy to carry in your backpack. Let’s keep our hands free if we can. Is that water safe to drink, do you think?”
“It is,” Ozendi said. “It comes straight from the ground a day’s hike from here.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” Mara said. “Fill up your water bottle, and we’ll get going.”
He nodded again, a single, sharp movement of his head, walked past her to slide the cabin door open, and began grabbing his bag. Mara watched him closely for another moment, just to make sure he wasn’t too tightly controlled, before she walked around to the right side of the aircraft and followed suit. Within a few moments, they had packed up what food they could carry and a few other things, and they were kneeling beside the creek, filling water bottles.
“Oh! One more thing,” Mara said. She shrugged her backpack off her shoulders and jogged back to the aircraft. She pulled open the cockpit door and leaned in to remove the tiny key in the side of the center console. She zipped it inside the small pocket on the upper arm of her flight suit and then turned to run back down the bank to Ozendi.
“Ready,” she said.
“What did you need?” he asked. He looked so different from her smiling, flirtatious student. This morning, he’d been all flashing grin and easy charm. Now she found a hard determination to succeed.
“The key,” she said. “It’s a small thing, but at least this way if the assholes find the bird, they won’t immediately be able to figure out how to start her. I should have disconnected the battery, too, but it’s getting late and we should get going.”
“I’ve always wondered why there was a key, anyway. It serves no other function than to complete the electrical circuit to the starter, right? Why could you not just have a complete circuit without it?”
Ma
ra grinned and slung her backpack up onto her shoulders.
“That’s an interesting story,” she said. “Lead the way, and I’ll tell you while we walk.”
Ozendi looked at her, and, for the first time since they’d been fired upon, a ghost of a smile played about his lips. “All right,” he said. “This way.”
He turned and began following the creek upriver to a spot where it narrowed. Mara shrugged her pack once more, settling it into place, and followed him.
“Once upon a time,” she said, “Hueys didn’t have ignition keylock keys. But one night, in a place called Tipton Field, Maryland, a man named Robert Preston decided he was sick of being shit upon, and he was gonna do what made him happy…”
* * *
They didn’t get far before both stars set and it got too dark to keep going, but Mara figured progress was progress and tried not to stress about it.
Ozendi hadn’t wanted to stop for the night. She couldn’t blame him; it had to be hell knowing that the raiders were out there, close to the vulnerable settlement of his people. She could feel the tension singing through him as it got steadily darker under the canopy of the R’Baku polar forest. She’d managed not to say too much, but their progress slowed to a crawl as he peered through the trees, straining to make out the landmarks that would point the way home.
“Ozendi,” she said softly. “I think we need to stop. It’ll take us longer to get back if we get lost in the darkness.”
“I am not lost,” he said sharply, almost snapping at her. “I am just making sure. We must just get up and over this ridge…” He trailed off, but kept walking, pushing through the undergrowth. Branches whipped back at her, requiring her to keep one hand raised up to protect her face.
“Ozendi,” she said again, a bit more steel in her tone. She stretched her legs in order to push up beside him. “This is stupid. Let’s just find a place to cam—”
The ground crumbled beneath her right foot as she stepped down. Mara tried to throw her weight to the left, but it was too late. She felt the slope collapse under her weight as her ankle, and then her knee, buckled. A strangled scream ripped itself from her lips as she tumbled. She tucked her shoulder into a roll and barely managed to keep the back of her head from hitting a fallen tree trunk. Her face hit the forest floor as she spun. Something sharp stabbed her cheek just below her right eye.
“Mara!”
Ozendi’s voice followed her down the slope. Mara skidded to a stop against a piled-up mass of tangled branches and needles that had built up next to a largish rock—almost a boulder, really. She groaned and pushed herself over onto her shoulder, then blinked twice to clear the dirt from her eyes.
“Wh-what?” She coughed, spat out some of the dark, R’Baku forest loam, and squinted up the slope in time to see Ozendi stumbling down the hill in patent disregard for his own safety.
“Are you all right?”
“Mostly,” she said, spitting again. She grunted and shrugged out of the straps of her backpack, before pushing herself up to a sitting position. Electric pain shot up from her knee and ankle, and she pressed her lips together to keep from screaming. “That fucking hurt.”
“I am sorry,” he gasped out as he reached her, sending more of the loose dirt and forest detritus up into the air as his feet slid to a stop. He grabbed onto one of the branches in the deadfall and steadied himself before crouching beside her. “I am so sorry. This was my fault.”
“Yep,” Mara said evenly. “Sure was.” She grunted again and hauled her backpack into her lap. She opened the front pocket and began digging for her flashlight. “Help me see how bad the damage is. Nothing feels broken, but my ankle and knee hurt like hell.”
Ozendi knelt down and gingerly put his hands on either side of her knee. Despite the lightness of his touch through her flight suit, she winced as pain shot up through her hip. She gritted her teeth and managed to keep from making any sound other than a hiss as he gently felt her leg from thigh to heel. Eventually, she remembered her plan, and her fingers closed around the thick, textured cylinder of the flashlight in her bag. She pulled it out and clicked it on, shining the red light over her leg. No bones or blood. Those were both good signs. Though she could see her knee was starting to swell.
“Well, buddy,” she said, her voice rough with pain. “Looks like we’re gonna camp after all. I can’t go any further on this tonight. Tomorrow, you might have to continue without me, depending on this swelling.”
“Do not worry about that,” Ozendi said. He laid her leg back on the ground as gently as possible and then stood and grabbed her backpack. “Let’s just find a place to shelter for the night. There are predators in these hills.”
“Oh? You might have mentioned that before,” she said, rather mildly, all things considered.
“They generally do not bother us. But now you are injured and vulnerable.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
He turned to look at her, and in the fading light from the suns and the red glow from her flashlight, Mara could see the self-recrimination writ large on his face.
“Mara,” he said. “I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “That gets us nowhere. Just find us a place to camp and help me get there. Then we’ll figure out a plan.”
“I—all right,” Ozendi said. She watched him square his shoulders slightly and shift his weight as he started to look around. He glanced to the top of the ridge, from where she’d fallen, and then further down the slope. “Wait here. I will return shortly.”
“Leave me my backpack,” she said. “In case you don’t.”
He stared at her, and she let herself give him a tiny, dry smile. She wasn’t sure if he could see her expression or not, but she smiled anyway. Eventually, he snorted softly and turned to pick his way carefully down the hill.
Darkness continued to rise up from the forest floor while she waited. Mara’s knee and ankle began to throb in concert with one another. She concentrated on breathing in and out, drank some water, and continued digging in her bag. She could have sworn she had a small packet of aspirin…
It felt like she waited forever. The forest began to make what she assumed were its usual night sounds. One of the most disconcerting things about R’Bak were the ways in which things felt familiar. She remembered many happy evenings spent listening to the sound of nocturnal birds and insects chirping as she and her family camped out in forests much like this one. For just a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, remembering.
Woodsmoke mingling with the scent of roasting meat and burnt pine pitch. The warm weight of her son, laughing in her arms. Sticky marshmallows and chocolate melting over her fingers…
“Mara!”
Ozendi’s voice echoed through the alien trees up at her, jolting her back to awareness. She shifted the red light toward the sound and surreptitiously swiped at her eyes with the back of her free hand. Hopefully, it was dark enough that Ozendi wouldn’t see muddy tear tracks through the dirt on her face.
“Here,” she called, her voice a rough croak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m here. Did you find a spot?”
“Yes,” he said as he drew near. In the weak circle of red light, she saw him bend down and reach out his hands to her. “It is not as near as I’d hoped, but it will work well. Can you stand?”
“I think so, if you help me.” She reached up and felt his strong fingers wrap around her wrist. With a heave, he levered her up onto her good foot and managed to duck under her arm to support her.
“It’s going to be interesting going down the hill like this,” she said as they hobbled the few meters necessary to clear the area of deadfall where she’d been sitting.
“Yes,” he said. “I thought about that. It’s mostly clear right here. If you sit down again, I think we might be able to slide down the slope in a mostly controlled manner.”
Mara laughed a little at “mostly controlled,” but since she didn’t have any
better ideas, she reached out to steady herself on a nearby tree trunk and helped him lower her back down to a sitting position. She’d missed the “we” in his sentence, she realized, or she hadn’t recognized his intent, so he surprised her by lowering himself to the ground behind her and spreading his legs on either side of hers.
“Keep your feet together,” he said in her ear, his breath warm against the side of her neck. “My legs are longer, so I will act as a buffer for any obstacles we encounter.”
“This seems like a terrible idea,” she said.
“Do you have a better one?”
“I’ve been trying…but no. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
He let out a short, surprised laugh, his chest rumbling against her back. She settled her backpack in her lap and pressed her legs as close to each other as possible, wincing at the fire in her knee and ankle every time she moved.
“Ready?” Ozendi asked. Before she could say yes or no, he pushed off, and they began sliding down the hill, loose forest debris spilling like a wake behind them. Mara fought down nausea from the pain and felt her body tense, readying for the impact that would surely come when they barreled into a tree, or a boulder, or another deadfall, or…
…or nothing, because the slope evened out at the bottom, and they coasted to a gentle stop in the dirt.
“I can’t believe how well that worked,” Mara said. Ozendi laughed again.
“You might try trusting me more often,” he said. “I generally know what I’m doing.”
“I fly with you, don’t I?” Mara said. “That’s trust.”
“Yes, but you keep your hands close to the controls at all times.”
“Well.” Mara shrugged, looking up at him as he got to his feet behind her. “That’s practicality.” She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she imagined he was smiling.
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