by Gian Bordin
He decided to climb the hill to the east. The tops of the rock outcrops might offer a good view of the area, and he should be able to reach it in about an hour, provided the passage through the tall grass tufts and the forest undergrowth was possible and the planet did not spring any other unpleasant surprises on him.
He switched off the main power supply and then slipped his rip-and-scratch-protective outer gear over his clothing, donned his helmet, its protective visor pushed back, strapped his survival pack to his back, hung the night-vision binoculars around his neck, shouldered his laser gun, attached an extra charge pack to his belt, and put on his protective finger gloves. Only then did it occur to him that carrying all this gear he would not get through the ceiling hatch. So he took most of it off, placed it onto the roof, and put it on again, once he was outside.
After closing the hatch he looked for a way to get down from the shuttle roof. Finally, he just let himself fall backwards onto a grass bunch and slid to the ground. He fingered one of the sharp grass blades and let it go promptly when saw it cut the outer layer of the glove. Alarmed he checked his protective clothing and discovered several superficial cuts on his sleeves and pant legs. He suddenly worried how he would get back onto the shuttle roof again.
The grasses almost completely blocked out the sky. Which direction is that hill now? he wondered. Using the laser gun and the survival pack as side protection, he searched a path over bare earth between the huge tufts in the direction he guessed the hill to lie. He was relieved when he emerged much quicker than expected and was almost immediately under the forest cover. To his surprise, there was no undergrowth, but only smooth earth, as if an army of gardeners had meticulously cleared all plants and raked away any leaves and debris. Even the trees seemed to be spaced evenly apart, allowing quick progress through the ranks of smooth dark brown trunks. Only occasionally did a thin leafless pole protrude from the ground, usually at a place where another tree might have stood some time earlier.
The open ground at the top of the hill was either rock or the same clean-swept earth as in the forest. The rock outcrops were more difficult to scale than he expected. He had no choice but to shed his gear. He placed the survival pack, the laser gun and the spare charge pack on a ledge at shoulder height and then climbed the ten to twelve yards to the top of the rocks. Looking back in the direction he had come, he was again amazed by the swath his shuttle had imprinted into the forest canopy and the giant grasses. Had it not been for this, he probably would not have been able to locate the shuttle. From this distance, it blended perfectly into the gray grasses.
He clambered across to the other side of the rock. A small valley sloped away, its center an oblong open field—meadow came to his mind, except there was no visible vegetation. A movement caught his eye less than two hundred yards from his viewpoint. He quickly cowered down and observed what was happening through his binoculars. It was a group of six small, but stocky men, only wearing a garment that looked like a loin cloth. Their brown skins, curly black hair—two of them already graying, the brown cloth, all blended perfectly in with the color of the field. That was why he had not noticed them until they moved. Human or at least human like? The data on Aros had not mentioned any presence of intelligent life. They were armed with bows and arrows. Savages? Hunters and gatherers? Two were cutting up a featherless bat-like creature, about equal to them in size.
Suddenly, he heard a peremptory whistle. The men immediately stood up and reached for their bows. Following the direction of the sound, Atun saw a being—human no doubt—light-skinned and tall in comparison to the men. Female? She was standing just outside the trees, twirling a sling in her hand. She also carried a bow, though much bigger than the ones of the men. A second, equally commanding whistle sounded, and the group of six howled angrily. Five immediately ran for the opposite forest cover, while the sixth grabbed a big piece of the bird before following them. The intruder whipped up the sling and barely a second later, the man cried out in pain, dropped his burden and ran limping after the others.
With easy grace, the intruder loped down from the forest edge to the bird, her long straight black hair flowing like a flag. She deftly cut several pieces of meat, dropped them into a pouch, and then slowly walked back up to the forest, turning briefly as if to survey the scene, before she disappeared under the canopy.
Atun trained his binoculars back on the six men who were just emerging from behind the tree trunks and cautiously went back to their quarry, where they howled again when they saw the cuts missing from the bird. One of them kicked the carcass in obvious anger. Then they gathered the remains, still sizable he thought and swiftly disappeared in the forest in the opposite direction from the intruder.
What an implausible scene? The planet inhabited by two different human species, one clearly dominant where even a single female was feared by the other, though both savages who used weapons of long-gone primitive tribes of Old Earth? Or were one or both stranded spacefarer like him who had gone wild? This did not augur well. All at once he had the urge to get back to his craft as quickly as possible.
He clambered over to where he had come up and carefully started the descent, when a slight noise made him look down. Turning his head as far as he could, he saw the intruder—definitely female—swinging his survival pack onto her back.
"Hey, what are you doing? This is mine!" he shouted.
She only looked fearlessly at him with a faint smile, grabbed his laser gun and spare charge pack and started running down toward the trees with the same easy loping gate he had observed before, her black hair now tied into a pony tail.
"No, wait! Stop! Stop!" he cried, an edge of desperation in his voice, hoping that she would at least recognize the sound of that universal word. He scrambled down the rock face, almost losing his grip and risking a fall. By the time he touched the bottom, she had reached the edge of the forest, where she briefly paused, as if wanting to see what he would do.
"Stop!" he called out again. But when she saw him coming down the slope, she disappeared in the trees. Panic gripped him. He was surely going to lose her in the forest. When he entered the trees, he could see movement farther down—the light gray of his survival pack, bobbing up and down. He sped up, trying to gain ground on her, but she always seemed to be about the same distance ahead. Then he could see her silhouette against the sunshine at the edge of the forest. He shouted again, but the sound got swallowed by the canopy. She briefly looked back up before turning to the right along the edge of the forest. He cut in her direction, hoping to intercept her, or at least catch up a bit, but she easily outsprinted him. By the time he came into the open, she was standing, about a hundred yards ahead. He had not managed to gain an iota on her and he was already panting heavily.
With a renewed effort he went after her. She turned left into the grasses. When he reached that point, he saw her again the same distance ahead partway down a narrow path, well-used judging by its trampled surface. She is trying to entice me away from my craft, went through his mind. Would he find his way back again? He slowed, questioning whether to continue the pursuit or give up on the survival pack and the laser gun. Damn woman! This is all I need right now.
They must have been running for half-an-hour already and she seemed as fresh as before, although she carried both his and her own gear. He came to a stop. It was no use. He was overheating and ripped off his helmet and gloves and opened the top of his protective suit. Leaning forward, hands on his knees, he tried to recover his breath. When he glanced up, she was standing in the path, facing him.
"Wait. Give back my things," he shouted again.
She turned slowly and started walking away. He noticed that she had a slight limp, as if her right leg were shorter.
"Damn you!" he yelled.
She glanced back briefly and continued walking. With a last effort he went after her again. When he had caught up to about fifty yards, she resumed her easy loping gate. His lungs were burning, and he slowed to a walk again. So did
she. At the end of the path she turned right, taking him farther away from his shuttle. Emerging from the grasses, he saw her waiting at the edge of the forest, scooping out a drink from a small creek. Water. How he needed that! If it was safe for her, it should be safe for him. He even found the energy to trot up to it. By the time he had wet his dry throat, she had disappeared in the trees. She was clearly trying to lead him to somewhere. For a moment he wondered again whether he should turn back, but then followed her. The fact that she had not made any threatening moves against him despite her aggressive behavior toward the other men and that she had waited every time he had fallen behind meant that she did not intend to harm him.
When he reached the other side of the forest, he saw her standing in the middle of a swampy estuary. She was paying no attention to him, but gazed intently upstream. Then he heard a spine-chilling scream and saw a gigantic bird, like a prehistoric dinosaur apparition, its wingspan at least ten meters. It was swooping down at lightning speed. The woman turned and ran, the vulture catching up rapidly. She won’t make it. For two long agonizing seconds he watched the predator closing up rapidly, its huge claws stretched down, ready to snatch its victim in flight. He held his breath, when suddenly something several yards across exploded open right into its path. The animal screeched and ploughed into the swampy ground, cartwheeling once. The woman jumped up, waved energetically for him to come. By then the bird had righted itself again, screeching incessantly. He hesitated. It still looked lethal. She waved again, impatiently this time, and then started to gather up some whitish material, like a huge cloth, completely ignoring the bird barely a stone’s throw from her. No doubt she was picking up the device she had used to foil the creature’s attack. Had she in fact deliberately attracted the bird to bring it down, so that he could make it across its hunting ground?
He decided to trust her. After sinking in ankle deep several times, he paid more attention to the ground, searching out the firmer parts. Before he could reach her, she had resumed her loping gate and was again ahead of him. At the other side of the estuary, he quickly turned to have another look at the creature. It was trying to get airborne by an ungainly hopping run. Then he followed his guide as she skirted just inside the tree line along a beach, stretching for several kilometers. At its far end was a prominent promontory dominating the shore line. Out of breath, he again slowed to a walk, and she immediately matched him.
Who is that woman? She must be almost as tall as he was, and he had always thought of himself as well above average height. She looked slim but athletic in her revealing body-hugging pants and vest and wore interesting boots that seemed to be molded to her feet. He could not make out her facial features, but guessed that they were Chinese. She showed not the slightest sign of fatigue, in spite of carrying at least twenty, possibly even more kilograms on her back. They must have been going for three hours already. He felt again dehydrated, hungry. How much longer? Only the shame of defeat kept him going.
As they approached the promontory at the end of the beach, he realized that it was much larger than he had first thought, since only its top portion was visible above the forest canopy. From close-up, he guessed its base to have a circumference of more than a kilometer.
After skirting the rock on the beach side, he had lost sight of the woman. Which way did she go? It was unlikely that she had chosen to continue along the beach, since the passage was blocked by boulders, and she had avoided any obstacles so far. He scanned the forest from left to right, trying to spot the telltale bobbing up and down of the survival pack. "Damn it, where did she go?" he uttered, annoyed, still breathing heavily.
"Here," he heard a voice from his right.
Startled, he turned. She was still carrying his gun. She definitely had Chinese features, high cheek bones, except for her big, almond-shaped eyes which gave only the slightest hint of a slant. But what struck him most was their clear blue. Is she wearing color contacts? briefly crossed his mind, but then he dismissed it as unlikely. Not in a primitive world like hers.
"Why did you steal my pack and gun? Who are you? What do you want?" he asked in galactic English, his voice belligerent.
She smiled and replied: "Only one question at a time. I am Yuen-mong, and your pack is there. What is your name?"
He looked behind him to where she had pointed and saw his pack leaning against a trunk, barely two meters away. How could he not have heard her? "And my gun?"
"You do not need it now. You will get it back in time."
Her voice was pleasant, a soft alto, but her speech sounded rusty like somebody who had not spoken for a long time. He was intrigued by her accent. It reminded him of some place, but it escaped him right at that moment.
"What is your name?" she questioned again.
"Atun Caruna. Why did you lead me here?"
"I will tell you later. Follow me."
She waited for him to shoulder his pack and then walked ahead on a narrow path through a swampy area toward the rock face. He again noticed the slight limp. She was an attractive woman — too bad that she limped. She would not be accepted on Palo, his home world, nor any other of the advanced worlds for that matter, where perfection in body was the norm. Few people of his social class did not have cosmetic surgery done to correct even minor physical flaws or enhance their looks, and for some it became an obsession. Maybe it did not matter here. But then he realized that his thoughts were rather silly, since on a primitive world like this they would hardly have the facilities for corrective and cosmetic surgery.
He caught up with her and saw his gun loosely slung over her shoulder. The temptation was too great. He took three quick steps to get closer, and just as he reached out to snatch the gun from her shoulder, her right arm swung out and hit him hard against the side of the head. It was so unexpected that he lost his balance and fell backward heavily into the swampy ground. How did she know of his intention? She had not even looked back before she struck.
"I told you, you do not need it now," she said, as she turned around.
He tried to rise, but was stuck in the mud like a bug on its back. She looked at him for two seconds, and he was afraid she was going to let him struggle alone, or worse, laugh at him. Then she bent forward and pulled him effortlessly upright.
"Sorry," he murmured, avoiding her gaze, stung by her remark, and feeling doubly silly, while he rubbed the hurting side of his head. She acknowledged it with a nod.
She continued on the path toward the rock face and underneath the branches of a big broadleaf tree she put down her things. She remained upright for a second, as if listening to something, and then jumped a few feet into the tree foliage and pulled down a thick rope made of a natural fibre. He could have gotten the gun then, but was afraid to make a fool of himself a second time. After shouldering her stuff and the gun, she hoisted herself up the rope by her arms only, saying "follow me", as she disappeared in the foliage.
He tried to imitate her, but quickly discovered that even using his legs and feet to hold on to the rope for additional support, his progress up was slow and painful. He needed to rest several times and when he got above the canopy he found to his dismay that he still had another five yards to go.
She was waiting for him and helped him step onto a ledge — a platform that gave access to a cave. Stone-age dwellers?
"It will get easier with practice," she remarked and then raised the rope by several feet.
Rather than follow her into the cave, his gaze was caught by the breathtaking image of the Aros ring, dark golden in the late afternoon sun. While they had come north, he had not really noticed this unique feature. But from this vantage point it formed a majestic half circle centered above the white sand beach that stretched for several kilometers to the south. The dark blue of the sea reminded him of her eyes.
2
Yuen-mong dipped a cup—the only one remaining from the ones her parents had rescued from their wrecked craft — into the wooden trough at the cool back of the cave and drank it slowly,
savoring each swallow. Then she filled the cup again and took it out to the balcony. Atun was still looking at the view. When she offered him the cup, he took it eagerly and drank it down in one go. "I needed this," he said, smiling at her.
"You should drink in small swallows if you are dehydrated."
His smile turned into a frown. She could feel his resentment return, not as strong as it had been all afternoon when she had forced him to follow her. He does not like to be told. "Come inside, I will give you something to still your hunger." She noticed his surprised look, but he followed her and stood his muddy pack against the cave wall. I will have to clean that.
She took a round flat bread, made from spiced timoru mash, topped it with a thin slice of salted dried fish and offered it to him on a wooden board. He frowned again, looking at it suspiciously. He does not trust me. As if to confirm that, he said: "No worry, I don’t want to eat away your food. I’ll take an energy bar from my pack."
"It is good," she encouraged him.
"It’s OK. I’m fine." He retrieved a thin package from his pack, ripped open its glossy wrap and took a bite.
She shrugged her shoulders and started eating the bread herself, wondering how food from another world tasted, but did not say anything. Sooner, rather than later, he would have to eat her food. Just let him get used to his new world.
While munching, she blew life into the coals in her fireplace and added small pieces of thorntree branches, a dense, slow burning hardwood that produced hot coals which glowed for hours. Then she filled her water pan, a square metal container that her father had fashioned from metal salvaged from their crashed craft, and set it over the fire. By the time the water was going to boil, the fire would be reduced to coals, ready for roasting the choice meat pieces she had cut from the fat thighs of the wader. The meat had to be cooked or pickled and dried promptly, or else it would spoil in the mild climate.