Shadow World

by A. C. Crispin

"Mr. Kenner," said Reyvinik, when Eerin was through, "I'd like there to be at least five in each party." Each of the other two teams had seven members.

  Mark hesitated, glancing over the crowd. From their expressions, it was obvious that no one else was eager, or even willing, to accompany him. He was about to tell Reyvinik he was happy with his team, small as it was, when the elderly Apis suddenly swooped over the gathered crowd and landed at his side!

  Mark regarded her steadily. "Uh ... I appreciate your gesture, but this is going to be a very difficult journey, uh ... "

  "Her name is R'Thessra, and she is too kind for her own good!" came the Simiu's harsh voice. "She has already had to protect this human who could not defend himself ..." He glared at the insectoid alien, who regarded him without budging. "Now, apparently, she thinks to make a career of it!"

  There were chuckles around the circle.

  "I wouldn't want to endanger her," Mark said. "I know she is not young ..." He trailed off delicately, wondering how the hell he was going to extricate himself from this one.

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  "She is strong and fit," snarled the Simiu. "And I will accompany her." He glared at the circle of survivors. "I shall see that this group reaches its destination. The rest of you will find only Wospind where you are heading."

  Reyvinik smiled wryly. "Your name, Honored Simiu?" "Hrrakk', if it is any business of yours, human." The name had the distinctive Simiu click on the end. "Mark, will you take R'Thessra and Hrrakk'?" Mark sighed and nodded.

  I can't insult R'Thessra, and I have to admit, Hrrakk's strength and agility are bound to be a plus ... but his antihuman attitude is already a royal pain.

  "Fine. That's settled. Let's get some rules laid down for basic organization,"

  Reyvinik said.

  It was agreed the walking teams would leave as soon as dusk fell and that, until then, everyone would work together to make sure that the Asimov was left in the best possible shape.

  Mark was assigned to the group that moved all the injured into the central location of the common lounge and made them as comfortable as possible.

  Another, larger team worked at extricating the dead from the wreckage. The bodies would deteriorate rapidly in the heat and, to prevent disease, must be preserved. This was accomplished by placing them in the hibernation containers, which they then activated, powering the units with the ship's solar- powered emergency batteries.

  Cara worked with the team that foraged the ship for usable supplies. Food and water shortages were critical. The food servos were now useless, though a few blocks of their basic protein or carbohydrate presynthesized material proved salvageable. Chunks of them would be unpalatable, but edible. They found some fresh vegetables, raised in the hydroponics section as a supplement to the processed food. Most of their rations would come from the Asimov's survival kits.

  In the end, the food was rationed out equally, but most of the water was left with the injured, the children, and those who would care for both until help arrived. The walking parties, it was assumed, would find water in the mountains. They were given only enough to ration their way through the short desert portion of the hike.

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  Clothing, blankets, items that would be useful for camping, medical supplies--all these were collected and divided by Cara's hardworking team.

  The journalist assigned herself an additional task. She made a complete circuit of the broken ship, filming wreckage and bodies for the record the authorities would need.

  Knowing she would find people out there on the sand that she'd met and liked, Cara steeled herself as she set out. But her professional composure eroded as she recognized face after face, now emptied by death.

  Worst of all was when she found Ryan. Cara remembered the times they'd danced together, and could hold back the tears no longer. She filmed his body, thinking of his fiancee, even now waiting eagerly back on Earth, and hoped fervently that the woman never saw this footage.

  Cara filmed survivors, too. Their faces, blank with shock, or twisted with raw grief, or tight with pain, were just as hard to bear. Finishing, she wished she could turn her memory off as easily as she'd just ordered off the autocam.

  By the time she was finished, she was wrung out, but she forced herself to walk with her head up, her shoulders straight. When she reached the shadow cast by the wrecked ship, she found her friends kneeling on the sand in the middle of a small circle of sorted supplies, methodically cramming two knapsacks.

  Mark looked up as she drew near. "We're almost ready. Did you finish filming?"

  She nodded, looking around the immediate area. The fear that she'd find, upon returning to her group, one more small body had been haunting her.

  "Where is Misir?" she asked, dreading the answer.

  Mark caught the tone in her voice and glanced up at her quickly. "The baby's still alive, Cara. But still unconscious." He waved at the pile of supplies. "We were lucky. Our luggage was intact. Time to get changed for the journey.

  Wear a couple of layers with white on the outside if you can, to protect yourself from the sun. And find something to put over your head." He held up a pair of socks. "Bring extra shoes, and all the socks you can. Changing shoes and socks on a long hike helps prevent blisters."

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  Cara looked at the outfit Mark had chosen for their trek, loose, white exercise pants, a fuzzy-looking beige sweater, and, over it, a long, loose white shirt.

  "Won't that sweater be too hot?"

  Mark shrugged. "Don't forget, it gets cold at night in the desert. But I picked this material mostly for Terris. It's almost the same color and texture as hinsi's father was. Easy for hinsi to cling to, also." The baby was still fast asleep.

  "I'm surprised they don't fall off when they sleep like that," Cara said.

  Opening her suitcase, she pawed through it, pulling out her sturdiest clothes.

  Her hand brushed the silky material of the red party dress and she jerked it away, remembering Ryan again.

  After she had changed and packed her chosen clothing, including

  "borrowing" several pairs of socks from two women who were staying with the ship, Cara rejoined the group, finding Hrrakk' and R'Thessra there ahead of her. The Apis seemed impossibly frail next to his solid bulk. They're certainly the oddest couple there ever was, she thought.

  Hrrakk' was the largest Simiu Cara had ever seen. His broad, heavy shoulders and the hard planes of muscle in his more lightly furred haunches spoke of a dangerous strength. The top-knotted tail that Simiu carry straight up usually gave them an unintentionally perky or playful look ... or so Cara had thought when describing the Simiu students at StarBridge. But there was nothing playful about this one; his tail was just another part of his wary alertness.

  A rich, bronze mane flowed over the Simiu's shoulders and ran up the back of his head to become a flame-colored crest. Around one massive ankle was a coppery circlet of the sort favored by some Simiu clans. Embedded in it was a huge, deep red gem. The anklet gave Hrrakk' a rakish, rather barbaric air.

  When he saw the alien sit down nearby, Mark stood up and made the

  gesture that was the Simiu greeting sign. It wasn't returned. Hrrakk' squatted on the sand, regarding the humans with unblinking--and unfriendly--violet eyes.

  He's got to be from the Harkk'ett clan, Cara thought sourly, remembering all the pleasant, friendly Simiu she'd met at StarBridge. Why did we have to be so unlucky as to be stuck

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  with him? Dammit, this trip is going to be hard enough!

  Mark squared his shoulders. "It's time to go," he said, in Mizari. "Let's stay within sight of each other, in case anyone needs help. We'll set the best pace we can and with luck, we'll reach the nahah before the other teams reach those Wopind settlements. Maybe the Elspind can help us keep the other two teams from falling into Wopind hands."

  His eyes met Cara's with a question, and she nodded to show she was understanding his Mizari, sending him an encouraging smile at the same
time. The stiffness in his back told her how uncomfortable he was, taking on the role of leader.

  Mark brought out the little plotter map, extending it toward the Simiu. Cara thought for a moment Hrrakk' wouldn't take it, but finally he did. The little instrument was almost lost in the Simiu's huge palm.

  "According to the map," Mark was saying, "we'll only have one hard night's hike in the desert to contend with. We'll have to take shelter during the day, but tomorrow night another few hours should see us into the heights. We've got sufficient supplies to take us that far, and there ought to be water in the mountains."

  The journalist nodded, thinking of the supplies her work group had divided among the walking teams. Knives, fire- starters, a folding multitool, lightweight plastic rope, dual- purpose sheeting, water purification tabs--

  even makeshift diapers for the babies. The Asimov's large and well-stocked survival kit had provided enough that each of the three teams had a fair share.

  "Does anyone have any questions?"

  The Simiu did not deign to answer. Contemptuously, he tossed the map back at Mark, who fumbled and nearly dropped the little instrument. The young man flushed, but said nothing.

  "I have a question, Mark," Cara said. "Can I carry Misir until hinsi wakes up?" If hinsi wakes up, she amended the question silently. She knew that if Misir awoke, she'd have to give the baby to Mark, so he could try to feed hinsi.

  Mark nodded, and Cara went to pick up the child, wrapped in one of Mark's blue pullover shirts. Reyvinik came by to wish them luck, then they were ready to leave.

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  "Let's go," Mark said quietly, then turned and walked slowly away, checking the little plotter. He glanced back once to see whether they were following.

  They were. Hrrakk' was last of all, but finally he rose off powerful haunches and strode forward on all fours, moving, as Simiu did, like a big dog ... or a lion. Mark turned back to the ragged line of mountains and began walking in earnest.

  Cara followed, and did not look back.

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  Chapter 12 CHAPTER 12

  The Desert

  Hrrakk' might have been the last to get moving, but Cara soon found herself bringing up the rear. Mark and Eerin set the pace, though the Elpind's tendency to bound rather than walk meant that hin often paused impatiently while Mark caught up.

  The Simiu overtook the group easily, loping four-footed, but then he ranged far out to the side. He was neither leading nor following, and his aloofness proclaimed that while he might be going in the same direction, he did not necessarily view himself as a member of the group.

  The Apis stayed with Cara, alternately skimming close to the ground, then lifting higher into the air and circling, as if scouting their path. Cara suspected R'Thessra was deliberately holding back to keep her company.

  It was a relief to be away from the dead, a relief that Cara guiltily admitted to herself. She felt less tired, more hopeful, and she looked down at the unconscious baby in her arms and sent it a strong thought. Live, Misir! Try!

  Life's worth it!

  Cara watched the scenery around her ... not that there was much to see.

  Scattered rocks, with occasionally one large enough to qualify as a small boulder, studded the flat, sandy

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  ground. Pale greenish gray tubular plants that fanned out at the top like the Simiu's tail were the only vegetation, and appeared drab and ugly in the failing light.

  She liked the mountains, however. As the sun slipped out of sight behind them, the wavering illusion of distance that glare and heat haze had cast vanished. Appearing much closer now, the mountains stood in sharp relief against the darkening sky.

  Cara's eyes searched the sky as evening progressed, and she was finally rewarded. There it was, the first of Elseemar's four moons, already up and well into its nightly journey across the sky. It had been too pale to notice before, but now it cast a weak light. She knew from Eerin that when all four moons were up, the night would be brighter than the brightest moonlight back on Earth. Cara was eager to see the multishadow patterns that gave Elseemar its name--"Shadow World."

  After the first three hours, Mark called a water break. "Everybody thirsty?" he asked rhetorically, unfastening his canteen. It was one of five allotted to them from the ship's emergency supply.

  "We're not counting swallows," Mark told them. "In survival class they teach that you actually need less water if when you do take some, you drink until your thirst is satisfied."

  He called out an invitation to the Simiu while Cara drank, but there was no answer from Hrrakk'. The alien had paused when they did, but sat some distance away, his back to them.

  "I don't think he'll stay with us long," Cara muttered. "We're going too slow for him."

  "As long as the Apis is with us, I think the Simiu will be nearby," Mark said. "I think he must feel some sort of obligation toward her, the way he acts."

  "Maybe. Any ideas as to what that obligation could be? I mean"--she smiled--"they're not exactly related."

  He shrugged. "I'm betting that there's some story between them, but she can't tell us"--he glanced at R'Thessra, delicately sipping from a cup with her long, tubular tongue--"and Hrrakk' won't, so we'll probably never know."

  "I know that honor is important to Simiu," she said. "But ..."

  "Honor isn't just important to them, it's everything-- their whole culture is based on it," Mark said. "The ancient Japanese

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  honor-code couldn't even begin to approach the way Simiu regard it, although it's the closest parallel we have on Earth."

  "We should have given him one of the canteens to carry, if he's too damned stubborn to accept water from us," Cara said, with mingled irritation and concern.

  "I guess he'll take it when he gets thirsty enough," Mark said, then glanced sideways at the big alien. "I've got to quit letting his attitude get to me. I'm just not used to aliens disliking me merely because I'm human. That's something I never encountered at StarBridge ... guess I'm getting my eyes opened."

  He pulled a pair of socks out of his knapsack and the hijacker's map out of his pocket. "Let's change socks, Cara. The more frequently you change, the less chance you'll get blisters, and we can't afford any. How are your feet?"

  She burrowed through her own pack. "Tired, but not sore."

  "How about your feet, Eerin?" he asked.

  "Hin has walked farther than this at one time before."

  "Not on sand, I'll bet."

  "Mark is correct. But hin's feet are fine."

  He glanced at R'Thessra. "How about you? Doing okay?"

  The winged alien wriggled her antennae vigorously and buzzed.

  He smiled at her. "Does that mean yes?" She repeated the motion and sounds, and he grinned and nodded. "I guess it does. Let's check the map."

  Cara peered over his arm at the small instrument. Mark had set it for hourly input and update, so now their own position glowed on the map as a tiny red dot. It looked impossibly far from the white flicker that was the mountain nahah. But at least they were on course.

  "Everybody okay? Ready to go?" Mark asked.

  The journalist wished grumpily that he'd quit prefacing his questions with

  "everybody." The Apis couldn't answer, the babies couldn't answer, Eerin was uncharacteristically silent, and the Simiu wasn't present to answer.

  "Ready," she said with a sigh.

  The little group walked steadily for hours in the vast quiet of the desert. As the night and the silence grew deeper, Mark began to feel that even his breathing was too loud.

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  The four moons in their separate orbits were all up, each at a different point in the sky. Their light was far easier to bear than the eye-hurting glare of day, but it seemed unnaturally bright, and thus disturbing to a human. It brought home as nothing else could have done that he was here, on an alien world, one of only a handful of his own people. He felt very isolated.

  The moons' light was so brig
ht it washed out all but the brightest of the stars, and Mark found himself missing those points of light. At StarBridge, he'd gotten used to having the stars as constant, close-appearing friends. Their lack made him feel even lonelier.

  It's the shadows, he thought. They're the most alien thing of all ...

  The intensity of the moons' light gave them a sharp-edged clarity, and as the moons moved, objects cast multiple shadows ... double, triple, and even quadruple shadows, each cast in a slightly different direction. They shifted and flowed eerily in the colorless clarity of the night, sometimes overlapping to form pools of lightlessness deeper than dark.

  As he walked, pushing himself to maintain a steady pace, feeling the brief surge of energy that eating and resting before embarking on their journey had given him trickle away, Mark found himself wondering whether Elspind believed in the supernatural.

  Are there ghosts on Elseemar? he mused groggily, half drunk with weariness. I never saw a more appropriate place for them. And even if the Elspind don't become specters after death, there are certainly enough offworlders who died here today to provide plenty of haunts ...

  Biting his lip, he brought himself up short. Talk about morbid, Kenner!

  To distract himself, he pulled back his shirt flap and checked Terris. The baby slept soundly. No distraction there.

  Mark looked ahead thoughtfully at Eerin's back, silvered by the moonlight.

  As the hours had passed and Mark tired, the Elpind's light, quick step kept hin ever farther ahead of the human.

  "Eerin," Mark called softly. His voice sounded strange, echoing in the silence. Eerin dropped back to his side.

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  "We haven't had a chance to really talk since the hijackers pulled me and Cara out of hibernation," Mark said. "Let's use Elspindlor, okay? I need to keep practicing; it will probably be useful at the nahah."

  Eerin nodded, but waited for the human to speak first.

  "Uh ... tonight, you've seemed kind of ... quiet," Mark began. "Is everything okay? Are you sure that guy didn't hurt you?"

  "Hin is not hurt," Eerin hesitated. "But ... Mark was correct to advise hin not to dance. Hin thought hin was only risking hin's own life. But Cara could have been hurt ... or the hinsi."