by Gian Bordin
When she turned around, Atun held his laser gun and inspected it. She picked up the wrapper he had discarded on the floor. "We need to keep this place clean," she remarked, shoving it into the fire.
He did not react, but she could sense his renewed annoyance. He was so easy to read.
"Why didn’t you use the gun on that vulture since you had it? Are there many of those around here," he asked.
"Because it does not work."
"You mean, you don’t know how to work it. I can assure you a full-charge zap would even take care of a bird that size."
"No, that is not the reason. The gun does not work on Aros."
He only smiled, not even hiding his feeling of superiority. "Why did you bring me here? Where are your people?"
Why does he always ask two questions? "I brought you here because you do not know the night dangers of this world. There would be nothing left of you by the morning."
Again that telling smile of disbelief. This was an unknown experience for her. Her parents would never have doubted such a statement of fact, nor would she have doubted them.
"Oh, I would have been quite capable of defending myself against those vultures or those savages. One zap of the gun would have scared them off. Anyway I would have been perfectly secure in my craft."
"The night dangers are different."
"You mean demons and ghosts," he mocked her.
"No, different. I will show you later." Did he take her for a superstitious savage? But she decided not to defend herself. She was more interested to know about his craft. "You crashed early this morning?"
"Yes, how did you know?"
"I know. Is your craft damaged?"
"No, hardly a scratch. It was a perfect emergency landing, almost horizontal. I’ll be able to take off soon, just need to fix a few things."
He is lying. "The AI system does not work anymore, right?"
"Yes, nothing serious… But how did you guess." His face showed genuine surprise.
"Because, no electronic devices work on Aros. Its rapidly oscillating magnetic field disables them."
He laughed. "You’re an expert in electronics?"
"You do not believe me?" She raised her voice . "Does your wristunit work?"
He looked at the device, pressing the on button several times. No holoscreen, but he dismissed it. It had been a cheap one, and prone to failure.
"Could you communicate with your mother ship?" she continued.
He shook his head.
"My father said that the magnetic field of Aros disables all electronics."
Again she could feel that he did not believe her, but he did not voice it. Instead he asked: "Did he also crash on Aros?"
"Yes, he and my mother."
"How long ago?"
"Before I was born. About twenty standard years ago."
"You mean twenty years on Aros? You can’t mean standard years."
"No, standard years."
"You know about standard years?"
"Yes, my father taught me."
"When will your father be here? Where are your people?"
"I have no people."
"But your father? Your mother?"
"Both died, seven standard years ago."
"Oh, I’m sorry." But she sensed that he was only trying to be polite. "So you live all alone?" Although intonated as a question, she knew he did not expect an answer.
By then, the water was boiling, and the wood pieces were glowing coals. "I cook now," she said and turned away from him. She added a handful of inner bark slivers from the silverleaf tree to the boiling water and set the container aside. Then she cut the meat into thin strips and spread four of them on a grid of rigid intersecting spear grasses. He stood at her side, watching. When she put the knife down, he studied it.
"Interesting. This is the knife of a survival kit. I’ve a similar one." He tested its cutting edge with a finger. "How do you keep this so sharp?"
"I sharpen it on a stone," she replied, while placing the grid a hand width above the coals. The grasses turned slowly dark, but did not burn. Within seconds, the meat sizzled, spreading a mouth-watering smell of barbecue. After a few minutes, she turned the strips. She also placed two of the flat breads close to the heat.
Next she filled two nicely decorated earthenware mugs with the brew she had made earlier and added a few sweetberries to each. Then she removed two meat strips, placing one on each bread, and moved the grid to a higher position above the coals. She handed him a cup of the bark tea and a wooden board with one of the portions, saying: "No vegetables today."
He took it reluctantly. She could sense his intense suspicion. She also noticed that he never said "thank you", something that had been drilled into her by her mother. Ignoring him, she took a hearty bite. She had not eaten all day, except for the salted fish bread he had refused, and was still hungry. The naturally salty meat of the wader tasted delicious, and she chewed it slowly, while adding another two fresh slices over the coals.
After an awkward moment he took a small bite, frowned first and then remarked "This is good," and started eating rapidly. "Is this the meat you stole from those men? Why did they let you?"
"I did not steal from them. I was hunting that wader after it had escaped the craw—the big vulture that crashed in the river swamp. When they saw me, they knew it was mine."
He took another big bite, talking while chewing: "But they killed it. Why would they let you take part of it?"
She was temporarily distracted by his coarse eating habits. Her mother had taught her that it was not polite to talk with a full mouth, that only ignorant people did that, but he could not be ignorant if he piloted space ships.
"Why did they?" he repeated his question.
"Because they are afraid of me."
"Afraid of you? But there were six of them, all armed. Why didn’t they challenge you?"
"I would have killed them."
"All six? Come on, you don’t expect me to believe that."
Why does he doubt what I say? Do people where he comes from tell untruths? "None wanted to be the first to die."
He laughed. "I guess that’s true. But who are those people? Are they really human? Are they the natives? How many are there?"
"No, they got stranded here like you and there are only a few hundred. It is difficult to survive in this world. My father guessed that they are descendants of crash survivors sent to colonize this world a long time ago. My mother thought that they came from the area called Brasilia on Old Earth, because their language resembles one of the dead Latin languages."
"Yea, then they would have been here for quite a while already." He took another big bite and continued: "They seem to have regressed to a savage status of hunters and gatherers. Do they also live in caves?"
He had finished his first slice, and she offered him another, which he took without a word. "No, this is the only cave I know that is big enough and safe," she answered, watching him devour the food in big swallows. "You should chew the meat thoroughly to get full nutrition from it."
He smiled embarrassed, but continued eating in big bites without talking for a while. He accepted a third portion, but declined the fourth. He even drank the bark tea.
She was only starting on her second slice when he asked: "How did you know I crash landed? Did you see me come down?"
"No, I heard your scream."
"Heard my scream? … I can’t remember screaming, and even if I had, you could hardly have heard. You mean you heard my craft come down screaming?"
"No, I felt your scream of fear."
He looked at her sharply.
"It lasted for a long time and was very painful to endure. That is why I came looking for you."
"You actually came searching for me? It wasn’t just a coincidence?"
"No, I came to take you to safety."
"But why did you steal my pack, rather than speak to me?"
"Because you would not have believed me. You still do not believe me." Sh
e sensed his discomfort. He does not like to be confronted.
"Believe what?"
"Believe the night dangers, but I will show you."
"What is it?"
"Seeing is better than hearing. We will go soon."
She got up and went back to the cooking place, where she speared the remaining meat strips on a blade of grass and hung them over the fire for drying. Then she held the end of a half-yard tree branch into the coals. When it had caught fire, she blew out the flame such that only glowing embers remained.
"Come, it is dark now," she said and went out onto the balcony to the rope. Only the western section of the ring was still lit and gave off enough light to discern the outlines of things. She dropped the rope fully and let herself down, holding the stick in her mouth.
* * *
Atun hesitated. He did not see why he needed to observe the night danger, whatever it was, right then. It could not be that deadly if one could actually go and see it. He felt it was far more dangerous to go down that rope in the darkness, and he also dreaded the pain of having to haul himself back up again. It was enough of a challenge in daylight. But neither was he willing to let her see his reluctance, nor to be bested by a woman. By the time he reached the bottom and let go of the rope to drop the last few feet, she had the stick burning brightly.
"Follow," she said and took the path they had come in earlier that day. About a hundred yards on, they got to a little creek where she stopped. "Stay on this side." She again blew out the flame and they were in complete darkness. He heard something drop to the ground in front of them. Two seconds later she had the torch burning brightly again. What he saw made him shudder. On the other side of the creek, the entire ground seemed to have become alive with ant-like insects, about as big as two links of his small finger, all streaming toward a piece of meat and a twig of foliage. Within seconds both were covered by these creatures which continued piling up on top of each other. She threw the stick into the throng, and he heard a sizzling sound, as some burned, devoured immediately by the others. And then they vanished as they had come — all simply disappearing in the soil. Not a speck of the meat or leaf or any of the burned insects was left. So that explains why the ground is raked clean.
"Wow… Do they eat everything?"
"Most everything, except the bark of all trees and some grasses. Any plants that have not adapted by developing poisons or moving into water have disappeared from this planet. That is why Aros has such minimal diversity. This is evolution in action."
"Are you an expert in biology too?"
He was disappointed that she simply ignored his sarcasm.
"The night scavengers are one of a few insects left and the only other animals are a several species of birds and sea creatures."
"Why don’t they attack us? Is it the water?"
"They avoid water." As she said that, she quickly stepped across the creek to pick up the torch and instantly the ground became alive again. She has guts. He doubted that he would have dared retrieving that stick, but was glad she did.
"Why don’t they strip the leaves off the trees?"
"They cannot climb up smooth bark."
"So, they couldn’t scale a smooth rock wall, like at your cave, nor up metal. I would have been safe in the shuttle then."
"They can climb up grass blades. So only if all openings are completely sealed would they not get inside, but then you would suffocate for lack of oxygen."
"Not if the inside air is renewed by the recycling unit."
"But the unit does not work, right?"
"How do you know all that?" He was getting annoyed by her.
"Because my father told me. Let’s go back up again."
He was glad to reach the top of the rope and did not even mind his sore arms. It felt safe up there. When he entered the cave, she offered him another drink. Then she said: "I now show you where you can relieve yourself."
This had been on his mind since the night danger demonstration. How had she guessed? She took him to the right side of the ledge and led him down a narrow path that had a rope strung along the rock. About ten yards on, right at the edge of the ledge, was a seat, which he recognized as a hand-crafted wooden toilet seat, with a covered bucket underneath. There was a slit cut into the bucket wall at the far side. From beyond the ledge came the sound of trickling water.
She removed the cover. "The liquid runs down into the gully and is carried away by the water. I empty the solids about once a week for the night scavengers to clean up."
She pointed to a neat stack of broad leaves and said: "You rub those between your hands and then they are like soft paper. You need to go now?"
He nodded. She inserted the end of the torch into a crack in the rock wall and quickly disappeared up the path. When he returned, she was spreading out a padded roll on the second alcove from the entrance. She briefly glanced up and said: "You can wash your hands back there where the water trickles from the ceiling. There is a hole on the right side for the torch and soap is on the shelf next to it." She treats me like a little child. But he was interested in the soap. He had never seen any, just heard that it had been used centuries ago on Old Earth as the preferred cleaning solvent.
He picked up the brown bar. It had a pleasant smell. "How do I use it?"
"Wet your hands and turn it between your palms a few times. Use the lather to rub your hands. There is a towel there too… You sleep here. I sleep there. Tea is in the pan if you are thirsty." With that she walked out onto the balcony.
After drying his hand on the surprisingly soft woven towel, he followed her, but she had disappeared. Maybe she went to the toilet too. He waited, studying the night sky. The eastern edge of the ring was beginning to catch light too, leaving the middle of the ring dark, blocking out stars.
When she did not return, he decided to test his sleeping pad. He took off his protective outer clothing and stretched out. The padding only offered minimal support, not like the body molding foam he was used to.
What a strange woman! Such contradictions. Such aristocratic features, but limping. Living in the stone age, but claiming to know about electronics. And how she had bent those savages to her will. He replayed again the way she foiled that vulture. That took courage. If he had had the gun, it would have been so simple to incapacitate it. And what did she mean she felt his terror? Was she an empath? Could she read his state of mind? Was that the reason she knew his intention to snatch back the gun and wacked him? Seemed to anticipate him? He suddenly felt uncomfortable, like having his thoughts stolen, his privacy invaded. What was he going to do with her? Did she expect him to take her along when he left this primitive planet? No, she doesn’t even believe that I’ll get off. And that nonsense about electronics not working on this world. She seemed to be very certain about that. But why did his watch not work anymore? Did it get knocked? There were so many questions, but he did not really want to get burdened with their answers. His only goal was to fix his shuttle and rejoin his mother ship as quickly as possible. He made up his mind to return to it the next day.
Shifting around uncomfortable on the hard sleeping pad, his thoughts drifted back to her. Why did her father get stranded here? Who was he? Her accent sounded familiar. Then he remembered. "Andromatis," he murmured, "that’s it. Her parents must have come from Andromatis." It was very likely that one of the huge Andromatian conglomerates, run by the most powerful families in the Galactic Federation would have tried to assess the commercial potential of the titanium-rich ring, like his own mission.
* * *
Yuen-mong had a compelling urge to be alone, to get away from this strange man who did not believe her, who stank of sweat, not the healthy sweat of exertion, but the sour smell of fear. The chaotic presence of his mind had already become an intrusion into her ordered life. Her cave was not hers anymore; she had lost her precious sanctuary — precious because of its beauty, precious because it meant safety, precious because here she had loved her parents, because here she had grown up wi
th them, because it kept their memory alive.
So she almost fled from the cave and scaled to her refuge on top of the rock. She stretched out her arms and took deep breaths, letting her gaze lose itself in the vastness of stars, letting her mind roam in the multitude of murmurs, more subdued than during the daytime. She sensed the chatter of a school of mermaids, as her parents had named the dolphin-like hunters in the sea. A sharp rise signaled that one of them was in trouble, probably fallen victim to a sea hexapuss, a slimy pod with six tentacles that each could reach up to ten meters in length. It momentarily distracted her from her own distress.
Do I really want to share my cave with this stranger? Share my life with him? Have him as my mate? She felt a tremor of panic just thinking of this. After her parents had been killed by the savages, she had always wondered whether she would ever have a mate. She could not see herself joining the savages, although their males had tried for years to capture her until they came to fear her. But he is the only male of my class… I may never encounter another. If I am ever going to have a child, I need him. She had never really thought beyond that, at its implications for her. It had always remained a vague idea. Her mother had her, so she should have a child too. Suddenly, this idea had become a possibility and its stark reality looked frightening. Who would keep her safe when she was carrying the child? Who would protect them both when the child was still helpless, like her father had protected her and later taught her how to survive? Somehow, she could not see this self-possessed man to live up to these tasks, as her father must have done for her mother.
Maybe she should only leave him to his own devices, but she was sure that he would not live long unless she helped him, taught him at least the basic skills of surviving on her world. She could not kick him out before then. Her parents would never have done that even to somebody they disliked or disapproved of, and she owed him at least that much in their memory.