The Search for Cleo

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  “My little survival kit,” Robert replied with a smile. “You see, Morgan, I – like most people – am addicted to technology. However, unlike most people, I end up in the past a lot. As such, I realized a long time ago that I might someday find myself trapped in some primitive time without so much as a PPSU to brush my teeth with. That being the case, I made sure to include how-to videos on every technological step from 'prehistoric' to 'modern' in my kit. We're currently still in the 'hapless savage' stage, but we're making progress every day.”

  “So, we need shovels then?”

  “Unless we want to bury this pile with our hands.”

  “Back to the cave!” Morgan replied.

  Chapter 8: War of the Worlds

  “Vox can head back to the cave,” Robert asserted. “I doubt he'll need our help making a few shovels.”

  “What will we be doing?” Morgan asked.

  “Hauling more wood,” the traveler replied.

  “I'll let Cleo know you need her,” Vox said as he turned to make his way back toward the cavern.

  “We'd appreciate it,” Robert nodded.

  “What's Doc going to be doing?”

  “Unless I'm desperately needed elsewhere,” Doc answered, “I'm going to do a little botanical research. Fresh fruit and fish aren't a bad diet, but I think it would be best to see what else Thundera has to offer. Not to mention the fact that I hope to discover herbs with medicinal properties.”

  “Do your thing, Doc,” Robert replied. “We're going to be at this for days, one way or the other.”

  Within minutes, Cleo arrived with the gravity beam emitter. For more than an hour, the trio transported planks from the forest to the kiln. During that time, Vox crafted up three shovels made of pipe and cut-probe-casing, and set to work with one of them himself. Once they reached what Robert felt was a good 'stopping point', he and Morgan joined Vox in the digging. In relatively short order, they had covered their pile of wood with a pile of dirt – leaving an opening at the top from which the mass could be ignited.

  “What do we do now?” Morgan asked.

  “Fire it up,” Vox said. “After that, we have to let it burn for a few days. Then, we dig up our charcoal.”

  “More days?” the young man said. “Does all ancient technology require days of waiting?”

  “Most of it,” Vox chuckled. “But, don't worry about that. We've got plenty to keep us busy.”

  “Like hauling wood, for instance,” Robert said with a smile.

  The next few hours were spent doing just that. The only interesting thing that happened during that period was Cleo subtly attracting Robert's attention, her pointing out something on the screen of the computer she was using to control the gravity beam, and him shooting another probe out of the air. As soon as Robert was done with him, Morgan set out in search of Azure.

  He found her working away with Vox on what the young man would have described as a 'contraption'.

  “What kind of contraption are you guys working on now?” he asked as he approached the pair.

  “A better lathe,” Vox replied.

  “Vox plans to use it to make furniture,” Azure explained with a smile.

  “I am,” he nodded. “Celeste wasn't the only one with hobbies. I got into woodworking a few years ago. It was something to keep me busy after I retired.”

  “That is so weird,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “Normally, I don't think about it, because it was only days for us, but you and Celeste basically lived out your whole lives before we came to pick you up.”

  “We did live out our whole lives,” Vox pointed out.

  “Yeah. I guess you did,” Morgan nodded. “What all happened?”

  “A lot,” Vox chuckled. “If you're curious, I can tell you about it later. At the moment, we've got a lot of work to do.”

  Morgan was curious, but they did have a lot of work to do. Once the lathe was complete – which was powered by a small motor from the car and could be used with standard carpentry tools – Vox set out to attain a few 'standard carpentry tools'. He used bits of wood and pieces of car to make himself a simple set of gouges, chisels, and scrapers. Before he had finished this task, Robert had felled another tree and cut it into planks. Morgan knew this for a fact, because he ended up spending the remainder of the day hauling more boards into the kiln.

  It was with a sense of genuine satisfaction – as well as exhaustion – that Morgan settled down on the floor at Azure's side that evening. She was working away on another basket, and immediately began explaining the art to Morgan. Minutes later, Doc emerged from deeper in the cavern with a load of fresh fish.

  “Did you make any interesting discoveries?” Robert asked as soon as Doc and Celeste had finished cleaning the catch.

  “I did,” Doc nodded. “For one thing, I almost ran up on another of those... we never looked their name up. One of those two headed brontosaurus-like creatures.”

  “Where?” Robert asked.

  “Several miles from here,” Doc explained. “I took quite a bit of a walk today.”

  “It's a good thing it didn't see you,” Morgan opined.

  “I had a stealth generator,” Doc replied. “And, even if it had somehow managed to spot me, I'd have simply flown away.”

  “Keep in mind that there are dangers in the air, as well, Doc,” Robert replied.

  “None that would be able to detect me through a stealth field.”

  “No,” the traveler nodded, “that's certainly true.”

  “Speaking of which,” Morgan said, lifting his eyes from his work, “how do you keep spotting Sturm's probes?”

  “We have really good sensors,” Vox replied.

  “We're also really good at configuring them,” Robert added. “That probe Cleo caught today had a great field configuration. It was using some seriously cutting-edge tech.”

  “It was,” Vox interjected. “Those parts will really come in handy. In fact, if we could get Sturm to send enough of them to us, we might just be able to use them to build a ship.”

  “He won't send that many,” Robert smiled. “Plus, if I were in his shoes, that would be the last high-tech probe I'd risk using. He wants to keep an eye on us, not feed us parts.”

  “How would you keep us from catching them?” Celeste asked.

  “Have them keep their distance,” Robert replied. “They can watch us from farther away than we can detect them – although, they wouldn't be able to hear us from that far out.”

  “Which raises another question,” Morgan asserted. “Why doesn't Sturm just kill us?”

  “What?” Robert chuckled.

  “Or you, at least,” the young man replied. “No matter what trap he comes up with, you're always going to escape, aren't you?”

  “I am,” the traveler nodded.

  “Although, Doctor Sturm certainly doesn't believe that,” Doc pointed out.

  “Probably not,” Robert smiled. “Poor man... Either way, Morgan, all life is sacred. Me and Alex may be having a feud, but that doesn't mean we're willing to kill – or even seriously injure – one another over it.”

  “That seems to lack conviction on at least two points,” Morgan replied.

  “What do you mean?” Azure asked.

  “First,” he replied, “if it really is 'stop Rob, or the universe is destroyed', then he has to be stopped no matter what. How many people will die if he isn't?”

  “Valid point one,” Robert nodded.

  “Second,” Morgan continued, “if all this is going to be undone when the universe fixes itself, Rob's going to live even if you kill him. If that's the case, what's the big deal?”

  “That's an interesting line of reasoning, Morgan,” Cleo replied. “I'm glad Sturm hasn't considered it in those terms.”

  “We don't know that,” the young man pointed out. “We just know that he hasn't really tried to kill Rob yet. He could have shot us out of the sky when we were making our getaway in the car. We were sitting ducks.”

  “
I don't know if I'd go that far,” Robert replied. “I still had some tricks up my sleeve.”

  “The point is that he didn't even try,” Morgan said. “Meaning, he either doesn't actually think you're going to blow up the universe, or that he's not positive that time will heal itself.”

  “There's more to it than that,” the traveler smiled. “Alex wants to out-think me, to prove he's smarter than I am – no matter what some brain scanner may claim. Murdering me would be cheating. He knows that I would never kill him...”

  “What if he murdered Cleo or something like that?” Morgan interjected.

  “Let me rephrase that,” Robert nodded. “He knows that I'd never kill him for something he might actually do. Therefore, killing me would be admitting that he couldn't outsmart me.”

  “You'd better be glad he doesn't think like me,” the young man asserted. “If I felt like I had to stop you, bro, I'd kill you stone dead. I wouldn't leave a single cell alive. I'd be afraid you'd find some way to regenerate – like Wolverine or something.”

  “He might just,” Vox chuckled.

  “Fortunately for us,” Cleo said, her eyes on her love, “Sturm's not a homicidal manic... As Morgan appears to be.”

  “Funny,” he smiled.

  “Other than the dinosaur,” Robert said, “what else did you find, Doc?”

  “Some vines – the fibers of which are both strong and flexible enough to make rope from.”

  “That's not a shock.”

  “A grass much like rye,” Doc continued. “Although, the grain it produces seems to be much more like what we would consider processed oats.”

  “A little oatmeal for breakfast wouldn't go amiss.”

  “Something extremely similar to tea.”

  “Which would make a nice change from cold water,” Robert nodded. “Especially if we could find a little honey around here.”

  “Bees,” Doc smiled. “Or something very much like them.”

  “Perfection.”

  “And an herb that I believe will act as an antipyretic.”

  “A what?” Morgan asked.

  “A fever reducer,” Robert explained. “All things considered, Doc, it sounds like you had a fairly productive day.”

  “I certainly did.”

  “I think we all did,” Vox added.

  “True,” Robert agreed.

  After their meal, the companions went straight to bed. Morgan awoke the following morning to face the first of what proved to be several very similar days. Robert continued to cut timber and make planks. Vox carried on the work of making tools and charcoal. Celeste prepared clay and began shaping it into cups, bowls, jugs, pots, and a bottle that Morgan asked her to make for some reason. Doc added more and more to their collection of useful plants. Cleo, Azure, and Morgan all helped out wherever they were needed; learning new skills on a seemingly daily basis (this was especially true of Morgan and Azure as they weren't as experienced as Cleo yet).

  Before they had enough charcoal to turn their iron into steel, Vox fired up his foundry once again and made a collection of cast iron cookware for his wife. Because of this, they could potentially have fried foods again. As soon as he realized this, Morgan made up his mind to discover Thundera Chicken. It stood to reason – at least in his mind – that every planet had to have “chicken” of some kind. He just had to find it.

  With the essentials taken care of, Vox began working to make their cavernous habitat more of a home. The first thing he did was make bed frames using some of the wood Robert had cut and the vines Doc had discovered. This got their mattresses up off the ground, which was something that greatly pleased them all. He then worked on making stools, which he quickly followed up with a chair. Morgan was amazed at how good it felt to be able to lean back in a chair and relax for a few minutes. Unfortunately, a few minutes was all you got as there was only one chair for seven people. Although they did have the seats from the car, they didn’t have legs, so you felt like you were essentially sitting on the ground. Fortunately, Vox meant to build a few more chairs before he was finished.

  A week after their arrival, Vox decided he wanted to make a cast iron stove, as well as construct a wood-burning oven. As this would simplify cooking for Celeste (and as he loved fresh bread), Robert permitted this, even though it was going to eat up a good deal of power to do it. Morgan was allowed to help from start to finish – including watching Cleo prep the three-dimensional model used by the force field generator to make the mold on her computer.

  On the evening of day nine, they were able to enjoy several baked loves (Doc having found another grain much like wheat) and a delicious fish stew made with various vegetables they had discovered and served in wooden bowls that Azure had made (having gotten some advice on how to do that from Vox). As Robert sat down to his meal at the table Vox had built, he declared their current lifestyle 'livable'. Everyone agreed with this.

  Morgan did point out, however, that steel was going to make life even better. Vox would be able to use it rather than wood to make knives, and forks, and spoons. Plus, wooden razors were basically useless. This fact was very important to both Morgan and Robert as each of their ladies only liked them – as Cleo put it – 'so scruffy'. As a result, each of them had to endure a 'beard ripping' session from the PPSU every-other day.

  As had become their custom; after dinner, they went to bed. The following morning, something extremely unexpected happened. Morgan woke before Robert did.

  “Are you planning on gettin' up today, bro?” the young man asked as soon as he had finished his morning routine.

  “What time is it?” the traveler asked, opening one eye as he spoke.

  “Around seven or so.”

  “Wow...” he replied, running his hand through his hair. “Last night was rough. In fact, I've got a headache – which is something I never have.”

  “People say that,” Morgan said, shaking his head, “but, everybody gets headaches.”

  “I don't,” Robert corrected, rubbing his forehead. “I suppose I should say 'I didn't' since I've got one now. This is certainly my first, though.”

  “Don't let it worry you. Just ask Doc for a couple of pain killers.”

  “I won't need them,” he replied. “I'm sure it'll go away on its own in a few minutes.”

  It didn't. In fact, by noon, he was feeling far worse. In spite of being directly ordered not to, Morgan tracked Doc down and informed him of the situation. When they got back, Robert threatened to have Morgan 'lashed' for insubordination, but neither he nor Doc paid this any attention.

  “Hmmm,” Doc hummed, his hand held to Robert's forehead. “You have a fever.”

  “No,” he replied, pulling back far enough to shake his head. “I don't.”

  “Yes, you do,” Doc assured him.

  “You know when the last time was that I had a fever?” Robert said. “I was cutting teeth.”

  “You remember that?” Morgan asked.

  “My mother told me about it.”

  “Well,” Doc replied, gazing into the eyes of his friend. “You have one now. I want you to go lay down for a while.”

  “No can do, Doc,” Robert replied, climbing back to his feet. “I've got wood to cut.”

  Rather than argue with him, Doc merely stayed near at hand while he worked. About an hour later, while he was sitting down 'just resting for a minute' because it was 'break time', Robert's back began to itch. At Doc's insistence, he lifted his shirt; revealing a number of raised red bumps.

  “Robert,” Doc said, carefully inspecting the itching welts, “you've caught something. You're sick.”

  “That's not possible,” he replied. “I'm immune to every disease there is.”

  “Every disease from our time, yes,” Doc agreed. “But, not every disease that's ever existed.”

  “This can not be happening,” Robert said, shaking his head. “I cannot be sick.”

  “I assure you, you are.”

  “Why aren't all of you dead, then?” he ask
ed. “You'd better start working on a cure right now. If I can be infected, the rest of you don't have a prayer.”

  “Whatever the situation, we would always have that,” Doc smiled. “Working on a cure – or at least trying to work out what you've caught – is certainly a good idea. Although, the fact that whatever it is has made you sick, doesn't mean it will affect the rest of us. Our immune systems are all different.”

  “Me and Rob's are the same,” Morgan observed.

  “Mine's better,” Robert asserted. “So, you'd better brace yourself. You're going to feel like death in the next day or so. If this is what it's doing to me, you'll probably end up in a coma.”

  “I want you to go to bed for the rest of the day, Robert.”

  “Doc, we don't have time for me to...”

  “Am I ship's doctor or not, Robert?”

  The traveler took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly.

  “Aye, aye, Doc,” he said with a salute. “Morgan, do you think you can saw the rest of this up?”

  “In my sleep.”

  “Then, I'll go lay down for an hour,” Robert replied. “After that, I want you to give me a checkup, Doc. I'm sure I'll be cured by then.”

  He wasn't. In fact, by evening, he was feeling far worse. More and more welts had covered his flesh and the itching was beginning to drive him crazy. Although she kept it well hidden from Robert, Cleo got so worked up about him being sick that she finally managed to make Morgan and Azure nervous about it, as well. Doc put their fears to rest just before dinnertime, however.

  Using the medical supplies he had at hand, as well as his own extensive knowledge, he had determined that Robert had caught the mutated form of chickenpox that they had come to keep from spreading – no doubt from the talfen fly that had bit him. Morgan observed that this meant it must have been the same one that bit John Smurts (as too little time had passed between his departure and their arrival for the disease to have already spread) and that the odds of that had to be rather slim. In response, Doc simply pointed out that truth was stranger than fiction.

  He then assured the green maiden that, in a few days’ time, Robert would be completely cured and in no way worse for the wear. Doc also pointed out that it was a common occurrence for children from Earth during Morgan's lifetime to catch it. Although it was certainly uncomfortable, it wasn't anything they weren't able to cope with. The reason it was having such a powerful effect on Robert, Doc explained, was simply because he had never had to go through being sick before.