The Search for Cleo

by Aaron J. Ethridge

  During the next two days, they managed to shoot down three more probes that got a little too close to the cave. This did require them to break into three shifts in order to keep up a twenty-four watch on the door, but all of them felt that their eventual escape would be worth all the effort.

  After twenty-four hours had passed since they had spotted their last probe, Robert was satisfied. Work on their new ship could begin immediately.

  Chapter 9: The Christening

  “Fortunately,” Robert said as he was pacing off the rough length of his soon-to-be new spaceship-time-machine, “Vox and I managed to pack a whole lot of power in the car. On top of which, we have plenty of room to work in here. That being the case, we should be able to build a ship large enough to keep our up-and-coming suffering to a minimum.”

  “What suffering is that?” Morgan asked, following along behind his captain.

  “We're going to be flying through the void of space for three weeks before we reach our first stop,” the traveler explained. “After that, it will probably be a few more weeks before we can reach another habitable planet – depending on how fast we can get our new engines to go.”

  “New engines?”

  “The engines we're going to pick up, Morgan,” Robert replied, shaking his head. “The very reason we're heading for the shipwreck in the first place.”

  “You never said that's what we were after,” the young man pointed out.

  “You should have been able to work it out for yourself,” Robert asserted, turning around to look back toward the mouth of the cave. “That should be just about long enough I think.”

  “How long is it?” Morgan asked with a grin.

  “Fifty-five feet,” his companion replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “Wow! That is impressive!”

  “Shut up, Morgan,” Robert demanded, once again shaking his head. “We're going to make it roughly fifty-five feet long, sixteen feet wide, and twenty-four feet high.”

  “It's going to be taller than it is wide?” Morgan asked. “Won't that look funny?”

  “I don't think so,” the traveler replied, rubbing his chin. “Not that it really matters, one way or the other. The point is that it's going to have three eight-foot-high decks. That will give us the square footage we need, not only to survive, but to not be driven completely insane by cabin fever.”

  “What are these three decks going to be used for?”

  “The top deck,” Robert explained, “is going to be used for storage and farming.”

  “Farming?”

  “Yes, farming,” the traveler nodded. “Space travel is extremely dangerous, Morgan. We weren't designed to survive in the void. Normally, this isn't an issue because we're flying around in a huge ship practically overflowing with all the essentials – not to mention the luxuries – of life. That's not going to be the case when we leave Thundera. If anything were to go wrong with the engines, for instance, we might find ourselves in a truly dire situation. We're not going to be able to just hop back to Never Never Land if we end up in trouble. The last thing I want us having to face is starvation.”

  “I get that,” Morgan nodded. “What I don't get is how we're going to farm in space.”

  “I'll show you when we get closer to that part of it,” Robert assured him. “The middle deck is going to house the bridge, the saloon (where we can fill the empty hours relaxing together), our bedrooms, and a workroom. The lower deck is going to be for the hold – which will take up a majority of the space – and engineering (where we'll put the engines, shield generators, stealth field generators, etc.)”

  “Where are going to put the PPSU?”

  “The saloon?” Robert replied with a shrug.

  “What about the galley?”

  “If we can manage to do any cooking, we'll do it in the workroom.”

  “If we're not going to be cooking, what are we going to be eating?”

  “Good question!” the traveler smiled. “Dried fruits, vegetables, fish, and – if you can get any more of it – chicken-lizard.”

  “When do we start working on getting all that ready?”

  “Right now,” Robert said, slapping him on the back. “Vox and I aren't going to need any help for the next few days. During that time, I want the rest of you collecting all the food you can. I'm putting Doc in charge of the operation. Go let him know.”

  “Yes, sir,” Morgan replied with a lazy salute.

  “Also,” the traveler added, “do your best to hunt down a few more probes. Cleo should be able to help you with that.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Mere minutes after this conversation, Doc was leading Morgan, Azure, and Cleo into the woods. Celeste would have joined them, but she was busy firing up her kiln once again. The four companions quickly loaded themselves down with fruit, headed back toward the cave, and then laid what they'd collected out in the sun to dry. Realizing that this would take forever (even provided that the fruit didn't end up completely consumed by insects) Vox stopped helping Robert long enough to make a rather primitive (and very large) drying cabinet. Using one of the portable air conditioners as a source of bone-dry air, he turned it into a rather efficient dehydrator.

  After this had been completely packed with sliced fruit, Doc went fishing, while Morgan, Azure, and Cleo went hunting. Although they were officially in search of lizard-chickens and probes, a different discovery attracted the young man's attention. It was a broken tree-trunk in which a swarm of bees had made their home.

  “I think we should grab some of that honeycomb,” Morgan said thoughtfully as he stood gazing at the nest.

  “Why?” Azure asked.

  “A few reasons,” he nodded. “We never did get any honey for our tea, Rob and me just like eating honey (especially Rob), and honey can be used to preserve meat. If we can find a dinosaur that tastes like pork, we'll be able to have honey-cured ham.”

  “You think we're going to find some pig-flavored lizards?” Cleo asked.

  “I found some chicken-flavored ones,” he pointed out, stepping toward the nest. “You two stay back. I don't want either of you to get stung.”

  “What about you?” Azure asked.

  “I'm tough,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder at her with a smile. “I'm also occasionally brilliant.”

  Having made this assertion, he began collecting handfuls of both dry and green grass that filled the area. As soon as he felt like he had enough, he ignited it – using one of the lighters from Rob's survival kit that he always kept on him. As the mass caught fire, it began to emit a think, rank smoke. Morgan slowly approached the nest, waving the burning grass in front of him as he did so.

  At first, the insects in the nest completely ignored him, while those that filled the air did their best to avoid the smoke and, hence, the young man that was wrapped in it. Encouraged by this, Morgan drew nearer the nest, engulfed it in smoke, and then jammed his hand inside. Instantly, the situation changed.

  More bees than Morgan believed were in the universe erupted from the nest, enveloping him completely, and stinging him almost everywhere he could be stung. Fortune did smile on him in one sense, however. None of the furious insects actually attacked his eyeballs – although, they did unleash their fury on the rest of his face.

  As he screamed out in agony and terror, he turned to fly back in the direction the girls. It was at this moment that Cleo decided to give him some advice.

  “Turn on your shield generator, you idiot!” she cried.

  Immediately, he did as she advised. In Morgan's mind, the results were mixed, however. Although the shield did keep additional bees from attacking him, it also kept the ones that were currently stinging him from flying away.

  “They're trapped in the shield!” he screamed, flailing his arms wildly in the air. “They're stinging me to death!”

  “Kill them, you moron!” Cleo cried, as she and Azure rushed to his aid.

  Each of them independently decided that freeing his face from in
sect attack had to be their first priority. As a result, both beautiful maidens slapped him at the same instant. Incredibly – at least to the young man – this killed roughly two hands' worth of bees. Encouraged by this result, the ladies continued striking him with a rapidity that almost defied imagination. After almost a minute's slapping, Morgan was sitting on the ground completely bee-free.

  “I hope neither of you got stung,” he said through his quickly swelling lips.

  “We didn't,” Azure replied with a sympathetic smile. “We turned on our shields the moment the bees attacked you.”

  “That's good,” he nodded.

  “I hope you're not allergic to bees,” Cleo said.

  “I'm not,” he replied, shaking his head. “At least, I'm not allergic to Earth bees. Who knows with these things, though.”

  “We'd better get you back to Doc,” Azure asserted, helping him to his feet.

  “Why didn't you turn your shield on before you reached the nest?” Cleo asked.

  “I didn't think about it,” he explained. “Smoke is supposed to calm bees. I was trying to impress you both with my mad beekeeping skills.”

  “You certainly left an impression on me,” Azure giggled.

  “Quick question,” Morgan said. “How could you two slap me through my shield?”

  “All our shields are synced,” Cleo explained. “So, they let us touch each other, just like they let us touch ourselves. It's important to keep them that way in case one of us is ever in trouble – like you just were.”

  “Would they let us give each other mouth-to-mouth?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Yes,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

  “That's good to know.”

  The trio made their way back to Doc who assured them – after a quick inspection – that Morgan would be fine. He even had something he could give him for the swelling – which he did. After this, the three companions resumed their hunting. Although they didn't manage to find any chicken-lizards, they did manage to shoot down another of Sturm's probes.

  This one had been constructed using far more simple technology than the others. Although it was still useful in their current situation, it was far less so than the probes that had preceded it.

  About an hour before the sun set, Robert had Morgan lead him to the bees' nest. Using their shield generators, they safely collected large quantities of honeycomb and placed them in several pots Celeste had made that they had brought with them for the purpose. With their treasure collected, they headed back to the cavern.

  After dinner that night, the pair found themselves alone in their room enjoying a cup of well-deserved, honey-sweetened tea.

  “How long do you think Doc will be?” Morgan asked, taking a sip of the warm beverage.

  “Hours,” Robert replied, following his friend's example. “He needs to catch enough fish to last us a couple of months. Plus, he loves fishing.”

  “He still needs sleep.”

  “He does,” Robert nodded. “But, Vox just finished making a new lure for him. You can be sure he's going to put it through the paces before he calls it a night.”

  Having said this, the traveler took a spoonful of honey from the bowl in his lap and jammed it in his mouth.

  “It's just not the same,” he sighed. “This doesn't taste like actual honey, and even actual honey isn't nearly as good as the real thing.”

  “Missing it, are you?” Morgan smiled.

  “Are you insane?” Robert chuckled. “Of course, I am! That's one of the reasons I can't get a taste. If I were more indifferent, it would be a whole lot safer.”

  “Maybe we can get things back to normal once we're on the ship.”

  “Maybe we can,” the traveler nodded. “We'll have a bedroom with a door and the recycler will pull a lot of the pheromones out of the air. On top of which, once we're in the sky again, I'll be willing to risk using a little of our tranquilizer on frivolity. For one thing, I am really beginning to need another taste.”

  Once again, he jammed a spoonful of honey in his mouth.

  “Which reminds me,” Morgan said, taking another sip of tea. “Azure almost never chews gum.”

  “True.”

  “Also,” he continued, “I've never seen her with so much as a stick of cherry-flavored gum.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “Or anything else that tastes like cherry.”

  “I've seen her drink a cherry-coke.”

  “Sure...” Morgan replied slowly, “but that wouldn't make her mouth taste like she'd been drinking cherry syrup.”

  “No,” Robert said, shaking his head. “It wouldn't.”

  “So, why does it sometimes?”

  “Why does what what?”

  “Rob,” Morgan said, smiling at his friend, “you know exactly what I mean, and you know why, don't you?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  “Well?”

  “Cleo tells me you're thinking of asking Azure to marry you,” Robert replied, shifting the subject.

  “Well, she's wrong,” Morgan replied. “I'm not 'thinking about it', I've decided to do it. I'm just waiting for the right moment.”

  “You haven't known her very long.”

  “I've known her long enough.”

  “You're sure?”

  “Rob,” Morgan replied, his eyes locked on those of his captain. “Getting engaged is what most people do when they think they want to marry someone, but they want to find out for sure. I realize that's not true in your case. You're engaged because you won't marry Cleo at this very moment because you're insane...”

  “I'm not insane,” Robert interjected. “It's just that...”

  “May I finish my point?” the young man interrupted.

  “Please.”

  “I certainly know Azure well enough to know that I might want to marry her. I figure a hundred-year-long engagement – or whatever we have to go through before we can actually get married – ought to give us more than enough time to find out for sure whether or not we want to be man and wife.”

  “That certainly true,” Robert agreed. “That being the case, I suppose I can tell you. After all, you are old enough to be told... I guess.”

  “Hot dog!”

  “Let me think,” the traveler said, scratching himself under the chin. “Have to be completely clinical here... I don't want to give you heart palpitations... You see, Morgan, when the females of Azure's species become... receptive...”

  “Receptive?”

  “Receptive,” Robert repeated. “Their bodies begin to get prepared. Part of that, is releasing a chemical that – to human males, at least – tastes exactly like cherry syrup.”

  “So... When she tastes like that...”

  “You're doing what you're supposed to be doing,” Robert said with a wide smile, reaching out to shake Morgan's hand. “Congratulations, well done, and all that.”

  “Wow...”

  “It is a shot in the arm for the old confidence there, isn't it?” the traveler chuckled, before finishing the last of his tea.

  He then put his cup on the floor, laid back on his bed, and switched off the light.

  “Good night, Morgan,” he said. “Pleasant dreams.”

  The young man did, in fact, have pleasant dreams – very pleasant dreams, indeed. This was good, because the next few days were filled with non-stop labor from before sunrise until after sunset. More and more fruit was collected and dried. Countless vegetables were harvested and packed away in earthenware pots that Celeste had prepared. Doc caught piles and piles of fish that all had to be cleaned and then smoked. Morgan and the girls continued their hunting; supplying the larder with plenty of lizard-chickens (that would soon be honey-cured) as well as shooting down another probe – this one from an almost incredible distance away.

  As they made one trip into the woods after another, Morgan couldn't help but notice that their clothes were consistently worse for the wear. Although he did see certain advantages to Azure having more and more bit
s of her clothing ripped off, he had matured enough during his adventures to realize that this had far more downsides than it did upsides to it. (For one thing, there would be plenty of time for that after they were married.)

  Another thing he realized was that Gilligan's Island couldn't possibly have happened. Had they really been shipwrecked, they'd have been buck-naked in two or three months. At least, his clothes certainly seemed to be flying toward 'completely nonexistent' at a rather alarming rate. He happened to mention this fact right after he ripped yet another hole in his shirt while helping Vox get part of the ship's frame set in place.

  “I don't mind the idea of flying through space in a wooden spaceship,” he said, glancing down at the new hole, “but, I don't like the thought of having to do it in my underwear.”

  “I know what you mean,” Vox nodded. “Which is why I started working on a fix a few days ago.”

  “What is it?”

  “Follow me,” Vox smiled.

  Morgan followed him to his blacksmith's shop (which was in the corner of the cave), where Vox had built a machine consisting of two small, wire-covered drums that could be rotated using a hand crank.

  “What do you think?” Vox asked, turning the handle as he spoke.

  “It's awesome,” Morgan nodded. “What is it, by the way?”

  “It's called a 'drum carder',” Vox chuckled. “You use it to get fibers ready to spin.”

  “That's handy, I suppose.”

  “It will be once I've built a spinning wheel and loom to go with it.”

  “So, we're going to make our own cloth?” Morgan asked.

  “Celeste is going to make us cloth,” Vox explained. “That's another hobby she was into once upon a time. Again, it was something I didn't think was practical. Clearly, I was wrong.”

  “Is she going to have time to do that before we leave?”

  “I doubt it,” Vox said, shaking his head, “but, she'll have plenty of time once we have. All the weaving stuff is going to end up in the ship's workshop.”