Marooned on Eden

by Robert L. Forward; Martha Dodson Forward

  "Don't know," he said. "Unless it was sort of exploring, and then when it detected something, it enlarged somehow to deal with it." Shirley looked at the difference between the fragile root and her attacker, and shuddered.

  We turned to regard the mass of undergrowth with increased respect. Suddenly . . ."Look there!" said David softly. Regarding us from under cover of one of the giant leaves was a single, large, bright eye. Arielle slipped silently towards it, and stopped. In an instant, the eye had vanished, and we heard the now-familiar rustling fade away.

  "Did you see it clearly?" asked Cinnamon.

  "Too fast." Arielle turned to us, her own eyes wide. "But the legs—like bug? I dunno!"

  That is interesting; we'll have to try to get a better look at the little creatures. It might be possible to pursue one if the undergrowth were not quite so thick and soggy.

  For it is still raining. Not a downpour, just the slow, steady sort that can fall from leaden skies for days. Morning, after our much-needed rest, brought us the renewed optimism it usually does, and we breakfasted more heartily among our peculiar provisions. Arielle's determined rummaging among the disorder reminded me how hungry I really was, and I joined John in the dividing of a cold but meaty sandwich, while I saw Jinjur munching on an equally cold pseudo-sausage. Not really cold, of course, but I did find my thoughts turning speculatively towards fire.

  I was not alone in this, I learned. Jinjur opened the discussion.

  "The first thing we must do, as soon as possible, is to get a message to Prometheus. They'll know we've crashed, of course, but they won't know if, or how many of us have survived. I think the quickest way to signal them is by a precise pattern of fires along the beach."

  This was a startling thought to me—it sounds so primitive! But I could think of nothing more effective to hand, and even this ancient tool was going to take some ingenuity to achieve.

  "We can only hope all the dead plants around here are really flammable," said John. "And that we can find anything dry enough to ignite."

  David had been scanning the sky intently, shielding his eyes from the raindrops.

  "I'm all for a fire," he said. "But I don't see any real break in the low clouds; they're just sitting overhead and pouring. When I do get a glimpse of the higher layers they're moving fast."

  "That's bad," grumbled Jinjur. "Any fast-moving cloud will not only obscure our message, it makes it really tough for Prometheus to respond so that we can detect it."

  "How is that?" I asked.

  "Well, if we make some precise shape in fire, it's going to be lost if it's intermittent."

  "Tough, too, to keep a fire going for any length of time in this rain," added John, with his usual cool realism.

  "And," said Carmen, "what sort of answer can we expect from Prometheus? They could try to send some landers down, but those high winds would blow their aeroshells and parachutes far away from us, even assuming we knew they were coming!" The daunting facts of our isolation are, I realize, beginning to sink in. We all know, all too well, how truly desperate is our plight, but we cannot admit it, even to ourselves.

  Jinjur decided, arbitrarily. "We need a fire, so let's get going on that first. The meat I ate just now would definitely have been improved by being heated, and I think it would be safer, too. Once we have a small fire, we'll just plan to wait until the weather improves enough to try to send a clear signal. How are any of you at fire-building?"

  A wave of dismay swept the faces around. Even as children, or students, we had taken such an elemental tool for granted. Indeed, open fires are a rarity on Earth at present—so primitive and energy-wasteful they are.

  Cinnamon volunteered hesitantly, "I did it once, at home, just to see how it was done. But it took me hours!"

  "So be it," said Jinjur firmly. "Hours are one thing we've got. Richard, you and I will go back down to the shore and see if we can get the flouwen back to salvage duty for us. The rest of you help Cinnamon." The two of them moved off, Jinjur's short legs taking two steps to his one; I watched them for a moment. Her brown face, at about his elbow level, looked up at her companion with a grin. It is not difficult to see that our diminutive commander takes a very feminine pleasure, even in these hazardous circumstances, in the strong arms still under her command!

  I followed the others toward the strange plants, and began looking under the sheltering leaves for dry tinder. At Cinnamon's direction we collected a variety of possible fuels—some very small and others more massive. The slim brown hands sorted through the offerings we brought her, and began to arrange them in separate piles on a flat rock, temporarily shielded with big leaves. While we patiently shredded quite a lot of stuff into very fine fibers, she bent some more limber twigs into a curious shape with painstaking care. When she was ready, we moved to assist her, using the broad leaves to protect her and her work from the rain and the steadily increasing wind. I watched, with great interest, as she bent over the sticks on the dry stone. Faster and faster she spun the little bow she had contrived around its fellow. Of course, if this method failed, we could eventually collect a spark from a lightning-caused blaze, but it seemed important to us all that this should not fail—I think, as humans, we want to feel "in charge" of our situation again!

  Then, I thought my eyes were mistaken, but no, truly, a thin line of gray drifted up from Cinnamon's busy hands. She bent closer, and gently laid the finest of fibers from the pile near her across the arc. It blackened, shriveled, and more smoke arose! Tenderly, carefully, she added the tiny fibers, and suddenly, there was a tiny flicker of light. None of us dared move, or breathe too deeply, lest we endanger the little fire, but it grew steadily. It was incredibly beautiful! None of us has seen an open flame for years, nor, honestly, have we missed seeing one, but the warmth and life and beauty of the little yellow flame held our gaze. It was amazingly bright compared to the dull red light from Barnard that we had become accustomed to. As the fire grew, and shifted, and began to crackle on the larger fuel, we became aware of the smoky smell, achingly familiar and yet sharply new. It was acrid, and made Arielle cough as it drifted into her face, but it was also deliciously spicy, and the thought of hot tea floated into my mind. The crackling sparks sounded sharp and clear, and then drifted upward with their ancient loveliness.

  Easily, now, we added fuel, and propped our protecting leaves with stones and sandpiles, to keep the fuel stack dry and to keep most of the wind and rain from the blaze. Cinnamon stood, and stretched, and grinned proudly at us. Nels took a long step to her side and hugged her tightly.

  "Good job, Cin! We're proud of you!" We joined in, in exuberant congratulation. John said suddenly, "Makes me feel independent again!"

  "Right," agreed David. "We're on our way now."

  "Like Prometheus," I added. Carmen looked puzzled. "The original one, I mean," I said, "The one who gave men fire."

  "That's right," said John. "And went on to encourage science and skill."

  "The essences of civilization," I said. "We really are back on a path." It seems rather grandiose to attach so much importance to this humble little blaze, but we feel amazing fondness and pride for our—creation! That is what it is, and we shared our moment of triumph in a brief enjoyment of the warmth.

  I thought it curious, our behavior—even as I shared it! We are all strangely silent about the future that confronts us, although I suspect we have all thought about it a great deal in the last day, and even more so in the night. We face the very real possibility of living the rest of our lives on this strange and beautiful world, and whether those lives will be days, months, or years longer is speculation about which we cannot even be logical. But none of us is willing to say anything aloud! Partly, I suppose, it is our habits of independence; partly a desire to alarm no one unnecessarily; and partly, a sensible feeling that we can only await developments. For whatever reasons, our conversations have focussed very much on the immediate present. It does no good to discuss how the crash occurred, and we have abandoned
the topic. We all are wholly aware of the resources left to George and the rest, and the lack of any real rescue mission they can possibly mount. We know the futility of lamentations, and when, I think, each of us feels a twinge of fear, we are heartened by the resolution of the others, and then we do our own share of heartening. Those last few cautious words around the now flourishing fire are the first which acknowledge the facts beginning to face us. Slowly, but with genuine pleasure, I looked at the faces in the firelight. There are strengths here, and courage, and competent minds and hands. I too am capable, and together we can do much.

  At that point, Jinjur and Richard trudged up the beach to join us, laden with soggy flotsam the flouwen had hauled forth.

  "The lander has slowed down, Little Red says, but is still going slowly toward the bottom. Sounds like the deepest part of the lagoon is pretty much in the center, and the sides the lander is sliding over must be smooth enough that it doesn't hang up on anything. From its shape, I'm now certain it's the crater of a volcano, like the rest of the place, only this volcano is on the side of an even bigger volcano that makes up the central mountain on this island. And, that being the case, if they are the right kind of volcano, we might find something really useful, when we have time to look around a bit for it.

  "Useful?" Arielle queried.

  "Obsidian," he answered briefly.

  Carmen's face brightened. "Obsidian? That could be very useful indeed! There was a whole display of antique knives and axes in the museum in San Diego—beautiful, it is, but more important, it can be chipped to a really sharp edge!"

  That's true, I remembered. Obsidian was used so early on by primitive tribes that it's not known when they began, but obviously they recognized, as we now do, the value of a substance that can so easily be made into a good, sharp knife.

  Jinjur looked with pleasure, then, at the fire, her eyes softening. "A gradely sight!" she murmured. "I remember . . ." she broke off. All of us had done some remembering, when the small flames had settled down to their steady dance. I straightened briskly, and set off down the beach.

  With Shirley's capable help I pulled a soggy roll of blankets from the creaming shallows where the flouwen had left them. Between us, we managed to twist the fabrics and squeeze the water from them.

  "As we went to Necessary Beach this morning, I saw what looked like a pond off to the left—did you see it?" I asked. (I am being stubborn about the euphemism for that beach; it's clumsy, but I prefer it to the much more Anglo-Saxon epithet with which David had startled me!)

  "No, I didn't notice," answered Shirley. "But if it's fresh water we could rinse these blankets out—or shall we just let the rain do the job?"

  "Might as well," I admitted. "Although, if we do that, it will probably stop raining! You know how cooperative weather is!"

  Awkwardly, we draped the thick blankets over rocks, to rinse and drain, if they will. The rain shows no sign of letting up, so perhaps it will do some work for us. Jinjur glances skyward all the time, I notice—searching for some break in the clouds.

  Those heavy blankets, after their soaking in salt water, are matted, and smell most peculiar. We are all noticing this; after so many years of filtered air, our olfactory senses are almost overburdened now. As David said, cheerfully, "When I smell that water I realize I'm getting used to the air!"

  The "salt" water in the lagoon, to distinguish it from the springwater, is definitely not the same as our oceans on earth. Between us, we have swum in many seas, and we agree on that point.

  "I spent a summer near Annapolis, once," John reminisced. "And we did a lot of swimming in the Bay, where the rivers come in. Thick as soup, the stuff was—you couldn't see far enough ahead in it to avoid the jellyfish, sometimes, and it tasted . . ." He apparently couldn't think of an apt comparison. "But you get used enough to it not to mind particularly, and . . ."

  "Why did you even try to swim in it?" Shirley interrupted, curiously.

  He shrugged. "Gets pretty hot and muggy there in August." I remember that, myself, having spent the summer in the Capitol awaiting the start of the Barnard mission. In many ways, I realize, this climate is similar. I never notice heat, but even I am grateful for the access to both sea and pond.

  "At any rate," John concluded, "This water tastes worse than that water, and while I might get used to it, I doubt if I'll ever like it."

  Cinnamon and Carmen have retrieved many containers from the efforts of the flouwen, and have arranged them in a long row according to no other criterion than size. Some of the things can be used for water, others have no immediately recognizable value to us here, but we cannot afford to discard them; we may have to contrive some very basic necessities. Some of the stored foods from the lander are still sealed in their tough wrappings, and we will be able to use them. I was surprised and pleased to observe, among these, several large packets of the oats and barley that had been among my personal stores.

  "Look, Cinnamon!" I said. "These came through intact—we'll be able to have porridge, or soup, or something!" She looked at the packets with a curious intensity, and took them from me without a word. However, other foods such as the fresh fruit, were less carefully stowed, and are sodden and spoiled. For the time being, we placed these in a separate pile, to be destroyed later. Jinjur's command is adamant: "Our rule has always been to disturb an alien planet only as much as is absolutely necessary. We are already doing much more 'disturbing' than I like, but we'll keep it to a minimum, understand? At least," she added in sudden doubt, "For now." We are all complying, though privately wondering how long we can continue to be so scrupulous.

  As I was returning to the stack of discards with a very salty bit of overripe fruit, I saw a sudden movement—one of the little creatures was examining the stuff! It was so intent on its survey that I was able to move quite close, silent and undetected. I observed the blue-green fuzz which covered it, and saw that it has six appendages, which it uses like four legs and two arms; these are stiff and jointed, very like an insect's. When it turned towards me I saw that it does indeed have just one eye, and that very large and dark and bright. Instantly, it clutched an overripe strawberry in its front legs and scuttled off on the other four, looking so like an insect that I understood Arielle's simile. It made no attempt, that I saw, to put anything into its mouth—in fact, I didn't even observe a mouth—but it certainly was quick of movement.

  I reported my observations. Nels was most intrigued. "We need to catch one, I think. Just to take a closer look!" he added quickly, as Jinjur frowned.

  Cinnamon had joined us in bringing up armloads of stuff from the beach, but by common consent she has returned to the care of our fire. None of us is willing to let it go out, even though we are not cold, and we have quickly learned that it can be a temperamental element. I happened to be nearby, when, as I thought, it needed fuel, so I tossed on several large pieces. To my dismay the coals rolled apart and began to smoke dismally. Fortunately, Cinnamon was close by and came running to sweep the coals together and coax the flame anew, but I resolved not to interfere again. Indeed, I watched with sympathy, later, as Arielle, in similar circumstances, added such tiny twigs that they were instantly consumed, and she had to hurry back and forth for half an hour while the fire continued to languish. It was in sad state by the time Cinnamon came to the rescue again. We were both relieved when she announced she would take care of it. Indeed, what with the constant search for more fuel she will have no time for other work, at least until we can build up a reserve of suitable size. Carmen and John seem to be nearly as adept at nursing the thing along, so she can share the chore.

  It all seemed well worth while as the inky hour of eclipse approached at noontime. We are all weary—the constant warm shower of rain from the gray sky above is enervating, and we are finding the changed gravity adds to our fatigue. It was a joy to both mind and body to head for the yellow firelight, flickering there under the sheltering leaf, and to eat something hot. We've had some precious minutes of relaxation and
rest, as we wait for the light to return. When it does, we shall be busy, as Jinjur, as much from exasperation as anything else, I suspect, has decided we should erect some sort of temporary shelter.

  "We'll all take a break from salvage operations, and do something to get us out of this frabbled rain!" was the way she put it. "Can't send a signal, can barely keep the fire going, and durned if I want to sleep wet!"

  "I'd just as soon stay out from under those trees," added Shirley, glancing at the dark line of forest.

  Carmen was rubbing her ankles in the pleasant warmth. "I think I'd rather have a floor I can walk on without my slippers than a roof over my head," she said.

  "A roof would be nice, though," said Cinnamon. "Out of the smoke, if that's possible."

  "Wall, please? Wind blows sand—and smoke—in my eyes," requested Arielle.

  "Here it goes, you see," grumbled Richard. "Give 'em a tropical Eden, with a warm ocean, sandy beach, a good spring—and they want carpets and furniture."

  I closed my mouth; I'd been about to suggest erecting the structure above the rock a step or two, to escape the sandy grit under our slippers. Oh, well—we shall see how this little effort proceeds; Carmen has apparently had some experience in make-shift construction, when she survived the Salamanca earthquake all those years ago, and several of us have camped out in various locales. I myself worked for a construction firm in D.C. briefly, but had left as soon as I'd mastered the new computer. Privately, listening to the discussion around me, I anticipate the shelter will resemble most things built by a committee! Curious, Richard's mention of Eden—it's the last word I'd have selected. The feeling I have is that of being a castaway on a desert island, with no preparation or warning. Indeed, recalling the enormity of the disaster, I am a little surprised at the recovery we have already begun. The natural instincts to survive are doubtless driving us, and although this place so far seems relatively benign, we are working hard at ensuring our mutual safety.