Marooned on Eden

by Robert L. Forward; Martha Dodson Forward

  Before them, stretching to the horizon, the black ocean roared as loudly as the storm, and the incoming waves broke heavily on the beach, inexorably reaching further and further up the beach with each wave. It was John who said, a trifle uneasily, "Didn't we just have a peak high tide two weeks ago?"

  Jinjur started, guiltily, when she remembered that she had measured that tide herself. "Yes, but it was just eleven days ago. The next peak high tide is not due for weeks yet. The water does look like its coming up pretty high though, doesn't it? I expect it's the storm, churning things up out at sea."

  Nevertheless, they watched a little anxiously, as the frothing waves surged still further up the beach. It started to get even darker as Barnard started behind Gargantua for the midday eclipse. Suddenly Nels stood up, and plodded deliberately out into the pouring rain, heading for the carefully placed marker stones. The others watched as he carefully counted, and then walked quickly back to them through the gathering darkness. He stayed off the cushioning boughs, standing at the edge of the shelter, and his voice was rough.

  "It's up past the ten-meter rock, Jinjur, and still coming! And it's not just the occasional breaker. I think there's something definitely going on!" Minds raced, searching for possibilities.

  Shirley's eyes fell into a blank stare as she searched through her eidetic memory for an image she had seen many weeks ago on a screen on the control deck of Prometheus. With difficulty, for she had only looked at it once, and that briefly, she brought up the image and started looking at it carefully. "The triple conjunction tides occur every 18 days, and they line up with the Barnard tide at either exactly midnight or exactly noon to form a quadruple conjunction tide every 54 days, but . . ." here she paused as she looked even more carefully at the image in her memory. " . . .there is a 'false' peak in the tide that occurs 11 days before the true quadruple conjunction at mid-day. It occurs near midnight, but not exactly at midnight."

  "There were clouds in the sky when I measured that last high tide," said Jinjur. "I thought at the time it was midnight, but now I'm not so sure."

  "The slope of the beach becomes shallower here where the shelter is," David reminded them. "A few extra meters in tide height means dozens of meters in additional beach coverage."

  Just as he finished speaking, they were thrown into the pitch black darkness of the noon-time eclipse as the last bit of Barnard disappeared behind Gargantua, not to reappear for nearly two hours.

  "That does it!" said Jinjur grimly. "I think, troops, we better move out. And up. Now!" With all her old authority, Jinjur directed the move of their precious possessions up the hill behind them. In the weak light of the banked fireplace, eager hands stacked and carried. Guided along the trails by the almost continual flashes of lightning, feet stumbled and hurried, while always in their ears was the hiss of the drenching rain, the roar of the rising tide, and the crack and rumble of the thunder. Within an hour, most of the little camp's salvaged belongings were high on the hill. There was now a new campfire, being carefully watched over by Cinnamon, who was getting soaked while keeping the fire dry. The others straggled along the dark muddy trail, breathing hard, and watching silently as the slightly phosphorescent waters continued their inexorable advance. When the waves began to swirl about the supports of their shelter, the people groaned, but there was nothing to be done. In a dismayingly short time, the wooden structure collapsed into the water, floating like some ungainly raft. The crew struggled to grasp and haul out the longest timbers, with Jinjur and Shirley shouting directions through the pouring rain and the crackling thunder, but the pull of the water and the weight of the logs made it impossible.

  Jinjur yelled at the top of her voice. "Stop! Don't try to pull 'em. Just hold 'em if you can! The tide's turning!" With desperation, the weary crew lined up along the remaining twisted structure, grasped its rough and slippery surfaces as tightly as they could, and fought for a footing in the shifting sand. Like contestants in some grotesque tug-of-war, they fought the sea for what was left of their flimsy house, but lost. The receding tide was slow, but extremely powerful, and the humans, battered by the continuing storm, one by one lost their grip and strength. At last, only Richard was left, clinging to the ridgepole grimly as he was forced, step-by-step down the sloping beach, until he was tripped up by a rolling rock, and fell into the surf. The sea, with a final triumphant breaker, seized the big pole and slid it smoothly and effortlessly out into the darkness.

  Shirley and Nels, one on either side, helped the exhausted Richard back up the beach. With the others, they returned wearily to the pitiful heap of soggy belongings, and sank down to await the end of the noontime eclipse.

  With the returning light, the wind died down to a gentle breeze. As the warmth of the surrounding sand increased, the people relaxed cramped positions, stretched out, and slept deeply. Shirley kept quiet as she stood and walked away, to wander about the littered shore, thinking and planning. The few traces of their encampment resembled a deserted play area in some vacant lot on Earth; a few stones arranged in a circle, a few more in an unnaturally straight line, the weighted table top still bearing its load of rocks but now sliding lazily in the shallows. With some care Shirley walked along the edge of the litter, seeking and marking as best she could the very highest limit of the water's advance.

  One by one the rest awoke, stretched aching muscles, and rose. There was little talk, as kindling was sought, and a tiny fire laboriously relit from the rescued coals. By common, unspoken consent, the first efforts were made to produce the "coffee" they all enjoyed; it was comforting, filled empty stomachs temporarily, and could be sipped while talking. And a great deal of talking took place. These were people unaccustomed to failure, and the disaster which had placed them here was almost forgotten in the successes of their efforts at settlement.

  "Boy, there's no arguing with Mother Nature, is there? Even in Eden." Richard looked at his new-scratched palms.

  "Why did you try so hard to save that ridgepole?" asked John curiously. "We have plenty more trees around."

  Richard shrugged. "I don't really know, just we'd worked hard on that lousy house, it belonged to us, I didn't like seeing it just . . .leave."

  "Make like a tree and . . ." murmured Reiki.

  Richard glared at her, and then chuckled.

  Jinjur said, "I suppose you've been designing a new shelter, Shirley? Something with porticoes and flying buttresses, perhaps?"

  Nels groaned, but Shirley said cheerfully, "Of course! But those only come much later. What I actually think we should build now is something very much like what we did the first time. It held up really well, until it was knocked from under. And it did shelter us, and it wasn't too hard to do. But, of course, we'll build it up here, above any possible tide."

  "That sounds good," said David. "This time we know a little more about what we're dealing with, too. Should go easier." This optimistic prophecy was heartening, and while Shirley and Jinjur paced possible building sites, Richard and John headed for the woods to cut new timbers. Nels hauled in the table and other items drifting offshore, and Arielle and Cinnamon, as main cooks, discussed the best site for the new work area.

  "Near water—I liked that, didn't you, Cinnamon?"

  "Yes," she agreed. "But since the water channel washed out anyway, we can have it almost anywhere—just not too far uphill from before." It became apparent that the former site of their shelter was just about right for this.

  "We'll put the table above, out of reach of the tide, and if the water covers the catchbasin next time we'll just sluice it out afterwards."

  "Not 'if' water comes, 'when,' " said Arielle with unusual grimness. "Somebody got to figure out." That issue was uppermost in Jinjur's mind, and when they next gathered, to eat and to plan the new construction, she spoke of it. "Reiki, I want you to take what records you can find we've mentioned, along with any data the rest of you recall. Talk with the flouwen, too, they may have been paying more attention than I have to the tides. Then ca
lculate what we can expect, as far as we know. What we need," she said more slowly, "is a calendar, of all trivial things!"

  Reiki nodded agreement, and began to turn over in her mind how to make some such thing, unaffected by weather.

  "Rather unsettling, last night was," said John lightly. "High-tech humans, flooded out like field-mice!"

  "It was dreadful," said Carmen flatly. "My father drowned in a flood."

  "And it's awful, feeling there is so little a person can do," agreed Shirley.

  "Well," said Nels, "We learned that there's a lot to learn. Again!"

  "Still," argued David. "We got through this okay, again, and we can build what we need, again, and start over, again!"

  "Sure!" said Jinjur. "For one thing, we've no other choice, and for another, we know we can do it!"

  "Hooray," muttered John, but joined the others willingly enough as, under Shirley's guidance, they began the new building.

  The work went smoothly. Even in such primitive conditions, experience paid off. The new shelter, not quite so tall, but deeper, with longer sidewalls, and floored beneath the cushioning boughs, was not only more comfortable but also better looking than the first.

  "Quite like Hawaii, or Tahiti!" said Reiki, standing back to admire.

  "Ummm. I do like floor," purred Arielle, bouncing tentatively on the surface.

  "I hope we don't get storms worse than that," said Carmen, looking rather anxiously at the gap between floor and roof, at the back. "Won't the wind come right through there?"

  "Only if its a real howler, and then we want it to go through, not just push it over," explained Shirley. "At least," she said hopefully, "that's the theory!"

  The communal feeling was one of modest triumph that evening, as they shared a rather dreary soup of hastily gathered vegetables.

  "Something attempted, something done, in rather makeshift fashion," said Shirley. "At least this time we knew what to expect from the materials, and could work with them instead of trying to make them act like plastic or metal."

  "I think it's lovely," said Reiki. "You all worked so quickly, and it just went together like every part was numbered, or something. Fast as I could bring a bit more timber, or whatever, it just vanished into the building! I was really impressed." There was a general sigh of satisfaction.

  "Kind of fun, this time," admitted John.

  "We'll have to rebuild the mill, too," said Carmen. "But you know, I think it might be better to make it smaller than before—we weren't using it all that much anyway."

  "Well," said David thoughtfully, it is a source of free power—isn't there anything else we'd like to use that energy for?" There was a thoughtful silence, broken at last by a peal of delighted laughter from Carmen.

  "It's fantastic! We can't think of anything! This place—it's so great we can't think of anything we need power for!"

  Jinjur and Shirley started to protest. "Wait a minute, lights, pumps, tools . . ."

  "What for?" asked Cinnamon, her dark eyes dancing. "Really, come right down to it, what for?"

  "I'll think of something," frowned Shirley. But then grinned. "Maybe."

  EXPLORING

  I woke slowly, to the sound of voice, and the rustle of the thatch overhead. Automatically, my fingers slid to my little recorder.

  "Now that the rain's quit for a while, this breeze will have our stuff dry in no time!" Carmen felt the few spare garments we have with obvious satisfaction.

  "I know," said Shirley. "And I'm going to replace this limp thing I'm wearing for that one with fewer stains. At least the sleeves are whole! And maybe it will save me a scratch or two on the on the trail—can't wait to start really exploring!"

  "It makes a difference, doesn't it, knowing we're going to be here a long time," said Carmen thoughtfully. "In a way, it gives us a lot more freedom than thinking we'll be rescued."

  Shirley agreed. "It's kind of a boost in a way, too, that George and the others seem to think we'll do all right on our own. They obviously didn't have any real worries about taking off and leaving us."

  "We've got food, water, all the shelter we really need in this climate, plenty to explore, and all the time in the world to do it!" Carmen's voice had a new exultation in it, but then she was impossible to hear over the indignant bellow from the nearby beach. I rose to stroll down to the ripples with the others.

  "George gone?" Little Red was very indignant. The flouwen had welcomed the lander enthusiastically, but had grown bored with the endless talking, and gone off on their own pursuits for some days. Cinnamon and Richard were taking turns, explaining our new situation to the flouwen.

  "Not much difference, really," she reassured them. "You'll still explore the waters, and help us to find out what lives there."

  "And have plenty of time for play," added Richard.

  Cinnamon and I lingered, talking with the flouwen about the strange plant life on the surface, especially the giant walking tree we had been recently interviewing.

  "You know the plants that grow underwater? Seaweed, we call a lot of them, but there are all different kinds in some oceans," Cinnamon was saying.

  "Yes, plants underwater here, too," Little White said. "Different from Rocheworld, here. Got six of things, floating around them."

  "What things?" Cinnamon was startled. "Floating how?"

  I didn't follow her thought, but instead began to explain to the flouwen about the giant land "plant" we had met being capable of moving about, and doing things on its own. Little Purple was interested.

  "Maybe these plants in the water can move too," he speculated. "I never watched them long enough to see. Now I will." His speech is growing more like our own, as he grows in size and intelligence. Obviously thriving in the strange water, the flouwen communicate with us daily now, but briefly, preferring to spend their time out in the open ocean.

  "Do the underwater plants have . . ." I hesitated. "Hedges? Walls of plants around them?"

  "No," was the answer. "They grow among rocks and cave edges, right up close. But floating things come out and wander around, as far as their . . .things will let them." He hesitated, hunting for the right word. "Tentacles?" he tried.

  "Yes, I know tentacles," I said. "You mean like long strings, holding . . ."

  "Yes!" interrupted Little Red. "Tasty things come on tentacles!"

  Little White explained further. "The plants don't have many leaves, mostly stem with clingers at the bottom. But the tentacles come out, two different kinds: one kind has tiny bumps on the ends, feeling all around; the other kind has swimming things, with nets in front, that scoop in lots of water." This sounded like it might possibly be the filter-feeder fish Nels had received from the flouwen, our first day. I asked about that, and was answered affirmatively.

  "Biggest ones taste best!" Little Red was proud. "We bring you nice big one!" It had indeed been a substantial specimen. By now we have all tasted it, and both Nels and Cinnamon had been impressed with the meatiness, as well as the simplicity of structure of the creature.

  "Where do these plants grow?" I asked, hoping to be able to dive for some.

  "Down deep where the water is hot," said Little White. "Like Rocheworld, where hot water comes out of holes in bottom of sea, that's where most plants grow, and that's best place to find food, too."

  "Volcanic vents," remembered Cinnamon. "Interesting . . .I need to talk to Nels," she said abruptly, and waded ashore. I followed more slowly, after enquiring gently about the well-being of our watery allies. I find it pleasant to talk with them; in their new freedom they visit us only if they wish, and it is curiously thrilling to have the silence of a swim broken by their cheerful presence. I floated, face down, to watch them for a few minutes as they moved easily through the water. I noticed below them a goodly cluster of the six-legged clams we had all enjoyed, and lifted my head to mark where they were, for later collection. Carmen was on the shore, waving me in, and I went to join her.

  A discussion had apparently been going on for some
time around the fire. I obtained a cup of the brew they were drinking; Arielle has named it coffee, but privately I feel that is a misnomer, principally because it tastes better than any coffee I have ever experienced.

  Wasting no time, Jinjur was applying herself to organizing our situation and making plans.

  "Our mission remains the same. We planned it out before we got here, and I've always found that the decisions made when we've been thinking rationally are best stuck to even when the situation . . .deteriorates." The crisp voice broke, momentarily only, but I felt with a quick pang of sympathy her genuine sorrow. She and George had shared so much! Strongly, she went on. "Whether it is our mission or not, we've got to learn as much about this world as we can, for our own purposes.

  "Especially . . ." and real interest grew in her voice, "especially now that we have discovered the Jolly!"

  "I've got some ideas . . ." began Nels eagerly.

  "Wait until I tell you . . ." interrupted Cinnamon.

  "Now!" said Jinjur loudly, reclaiming full attention. "Unlike most castaways, we've got few survival problems, so far. The climate means we don't need much shelter, or special clothing . . ." (And we all, even I, have been gradually shortening sleeves and pantlegs, saving the precious scraps in a bundle.) "Food is available in such abundance we needn't worry about storage. And we've not met, yet, any threatening creatures. Not even mosquitoes!" True enough, although the defenses of the little clams had certainly been vigorous.

  "Well, in general . . ." Jinjur stopped, and grinned at the mild pun. "That's the question, isn't it? How about it? Am I still to be The General? It looks to me like we are all, literally, in the same spot. In what manner shall we proceed?"

  The question took us by surprise. We are so long accustomed to obeying orders! But our communal existence is already becoming more like that of a family, with comfortable familiarity the norm. Yet we are still individuals, desiring fairness and reasonable privacy. I was thankful that a few moment's thought brought us all to the same conclusion. It makes sense to have an acknowledged leader for the unforeseen situations we face; and Jinjur's good judgement, training, and automatic concern for the well-being of us all is something we can count on. But for our routine discussions and decisions? Do we simply expect each other's respect? Possibly . . .