by Lindsay Peet
CHAPTER ONE
“Never thought I’d say this, but I’m beginning to miss them Mobahey horses,” muttered Jedub.
“Bafflefish distant from everywhere is, but on maps still. How are we past edge of star charts leaping?” wondered Lordano as we slogged through the misty mucky pass toward what I’d judged from space to be a large town or a small city. We’d waited to set out first thing the morning after landing, because as much as I hate being lost on a soggy tromp, I hate it more when I’m still tromping on a strange planet as darkness settles and mist becomes rain.
“Ya got me, Lordano. I think something went wrong with our navigator, jumping so suddenly like we did, and now it’s, um, discombobulated.” I wiped a drop of condensation from the tip of my nose and sniffled. The track we were following from the plateau looked to be from animal use; I saw neither signs of improvements nor boot-treads. I had to wonder, this was a good-sized track we’d been following– what had made it? Once I asked the question I wasn’t eager for its answer, and every squeal, squawk and screech after that made my marrow quiver. I’m as curious as the next guy, but when it comes to animals with slavering jaws and long curving claws, well, seeing them on holoviddies is fine with me.
At least there was water not far below the track, and some tall trees with great pendulous blue blossoms that dripped with fragrant dew, too often on my head or down the back of my neck, and lots of other no-doubt fascinating forms of plant and animal life all about, which in my soggy mood I was completely uninterested in.
Soon enough we gained altitude to cross the ridge, and as we got higher the mist got heavier, became drizzle, then rain, then a downpour with lightning. Long before that we all missed the horses and Mobahey’s arid heat, but on we trudged, having not much choice now. The way became treacherous, the stones got slick with muddy runoff, the meadows became mucky sucking messes, and trees were likely lightning-magnets. It occurred to me that just past the crest would be a fine place for an ambush, by humans, animals, or whatever creatures might be top-dogs here – we were lost, miserable and weaponless, and not only didn’t know what planet we were on, but were ignorant of its plants and animals, what was poisonous, what traps and tricks had evolved. Like as not we wouldn’t even be sure when we passed the crest as we headed toward what we hoped was civilization. We weren’t even positive the community we were approaching was occupied by humans, when it came right down to it. With so many things to beware of and my mind revisiting the swamp of second-guessing the whole expedition I knew I should be cautious, but realistically if anything attacked us then we were dead.
Obviously, we survived. Somehow we avoided losing the treasure balls, too. Not that we didn’t drop them a couple times, and had to scramble and slide down the stony slope to the riverbank, and once even chased one as it roved tranquilly down and away until it lodged upstream of a boulder, but somehow we always recovered them. I became more convinced that they were hardly fragile, but I still didn’t care to test my theory. Wanliet seemed unconcerned that they might be harmed, though. Overriding the concern for our cargo, I worried about my own fragility. Once we heard some big thing galumphing alongside the path and then ahead; suddenly a flock of black winged things – I hoped they were birds – burst from the bushes and took off with a lot of screeching and squawking and crying. Wanliet stood still in wonderment. “It’s like two orchestras collided and the notes are flying away!” he said in delight. Yeah, Wanliet was like that. Depending on how you took him he either made you crazy or kept you sane.
I never learned what creature used that track, but it was a cinch that it was more sure-footed than we were. When you’re slogging through a foreign land, on a remote path, scrabbling along a mud-slick mountainside above a flooding creek where visibility is shy of ten meters, you count yourself fortunate if the worst that happens is a pratfall or two, so I guess we were lucky. On the bright side, slapstick breaks the tension, so it’s not all bad, especially when it happens to someone else. On the less-bright side there’s slapstick, and then there’s your own pratfalls. The line between your trip or slip and disaster can be very narrow, and you don’t know you’ve crossed it until it’s too late.
Once something big and dark swooped or flew or was hurled from the foliage across our path and then back into the bushes beside us. Startled, Jedub tumbled back into Lordano who stumbled into me, and I went skittering down the slope toward a pond.
Screaming in a way most unbecoming to a leader, I plunged into the pool, barely closing my own mouth in time to miss out on a mouthful of muck. Quick as could be I scrambled out of the dark water, grabbing and clambering over the gnarled elbows and knees cresting the algae-covered rain-dappled surface Standing there gasping, out of the water and imminent danger, one of the treasure balls bonked into my head and then into the pond. After I glared at Jedub and waded into the waters, I noticed that some exposed tree roots had clusters of subtly colored spheres tucked away among them, just above the water line. Trying to recover some decorum, and thinking they might be edible, I went over and tried touching, then prodding them. Some were soft like fruits, while others were hard and egg-like. Otherwise they were pretty much indistinguishable. I decided against trying to eat any myself; I considered offering them to Lordano or Jedub, but decided against that, as carrying a retching, vomiting man in this rain was something I’d rather do without. And they were usually the ones carrying the damned treasure balls.
Suddenly I saw some of the thicker ‘tree roots’ started moving, and spouts geysering from below. My crew’s hilarity at my slapstick paused when they thought I was in danger, then broke loose again as I slipped and stumbled trying to get back to them double-quick carrying Jedub’s ball. Those ‘elbows and knees’ were the limbs of some underwater beasts!
Right at the lip of the path I slipped again, or maybe Jedub pushed me, and my clawing fingers and scrabbling toes did nothing to slow me as I hurtled down again! In a sluice of mud I rocketed down again toward the nameless, faceless monsters in the dark waters! As I was sliding down for the second time one of the beasts rose up from the muck and gaped open its maw, and I foresaw my adventure was about to end in his jaws, my existence to terminate at his ass.
Then, apparently done yawning, the beast settled underwater until only his eyes and dorsal blowhole were above the surface. I suppose I might count it as a blessing that I was immediately cleaned up when I struck something hard and was launched head-over-heels atumble to the pool below again, but I hardly felt that way at the time, especially after the damn ball bonked me in the face. It had been some time since I’d felt oh-so clever; that ball pretty much nailed shut the coffin on my cockiness.
Done with decorum and heartily pissed at my guffawing companions I socked the damn ball up the hill, paddled and stumbled across the pond and the apparently harmless monsters, and then slogged my way up the hill once more as fast as I could, which wasn’t that fast by now as the adrenaline was slacking off.
What the hell was that all about? The dusky sky, the murky waters, and strange noises and whatever had startled Jedub – it all added up to a very spooky trek. Maybe it was the sheer misery of being soaked, cold and on the downslope of an adrenaline rush, but I wasn’t as wary as my mind said I should be. And I knew it was right, but I just couldn’t work up the proper vigilance. For all I knew I’d been poking around the eggs or young of some vicious beast and I’d caught it during siesta, but then again maybe I’d blown it all out of proportion. Some people believe nature is cuddly and cute and friendly; none of these people has spent a night truly in the wild. My thinking is, when you meet a critter in its home environment, always assume the worst. You won’t hurt the feelings of a scary beast, and you might save your life, or a limb. Whatever -- I was still hungry and wet, and now as the terror wore off I was starting to shake and thought I might puke.
As damp as I’d been before from trekking in the rain, now I was through-and-through soaked, and a miserable walk became a soggy shivering slog. After a couple of yea
rs of this we neared the village that afternoon. The rain had stopped but we’d brought a lot of it with us in our clothes. Our – well, my -- first impulse was to get inside somewhere and get warm and dry and fed – heck, I was willing to get arrested if necessary. We had money, but doubted it had value here – ‘specious specie’ Wanliet called it.
Not for the first time I’d have to rely on guile and craft, and that gave me some comfort as I’d done that my whole life. Being half-frozen and half-dead I wouldn’t be at my best, but it would be good enough. My concern was with my companions.
Through chattering teeth I warned them. “Okay, guys, when we meet somebody, follow my lead. Don’t draw attention to yourselves, keep your yaps shut. I don’t know what we’ll find here, but it’ll all go better if only one of us is doing the talking.”
“Hey, Jaf, if you get nervous, just remember, it could be worse. Basoolah could find you, and then even your silver tongue won’t do you any good,” smiled Wanliet quietly. Thinking such happy thoughts we then all headed into the unknown town on the mysterious planet, and hoped for the best.
Almost at once our minds were set somewhat at ease, as we saw an inhabitant who looked human, and very old. I hailed him, and he took one look at us and then ran off as fast as his old bowed legs would bear him.
Score one point for ‘at ease,’ and one for ‘uh-oh.’ Old people meant the town was likely stable and peaceful, but immediately going to the ‘fight or flight’ response when meeting strangers argued against ‘friendly.’
So it continued as the next three people fled from us as we trudged to the center of town, and then we saw no more people, and as Lordano pointed out, all their windows and doors were shut.
‘Uh-oh’ was taking a definite lead. Sure, the rain had stopped, but the atmosphere itself was threatening. I was getting a quavering in my gut, like free-fall, because it feared that soon I’d be hitting the bottom hard. I didn’t really like being in charge, but I was the best-suited for it, the quickest thinker on his feet, the least likely to get us in trouble. So, the little dark guy who likes to stay in the background, be everyone’s friend, put himself at the front, smiling and hoping for the best while dreading the worst, teeth chattering like skulls gone mad.
A group approached us from the town center, not organized enough for a platoon but too orderly for a mob. About five meters away they stopped. Three stepped forward and spoke.
“We welcome you to Caliuga. You’ve come at last” spake one, festooned with sash and ribbons. Well, that was more good news – we were welcome, and my mastoidal translator could handle their lingo. But – ‘come at last.’ Doubted they meant the hike over the pass; although that did seem to us to take forever, they obviously hadn’t had time to prepare a parade down Main Street for us. Yet somehow we were expected. “Your faith has been borne out,” I rallied, vaguely, innocuous enough I hoped.
“It is our way. When we are told one will arrive, and he arrives, it is our responsibility to know that one.”
Ah ha! A prophesy! Or an omen? “Some lose heart, some lose faith. But we have come, and you were wise and abided. That speaks well of you.” Never too early to butter up those who recognize your superiority.
“You bear the tokens. There could be no mistaking the Inspector General.”
Huh. So, I wasn’t a messiah, I was a plenipotentiary. Depending on their concepts of government and religion, that might be a promotion. But after some rapid addition and subtraction I decided to deflect the honor; a lower profile allows me more room to move. It’s amazing, when I look back on my life, how that split-second calculation determined the course of events on that planet, and later on my life, but that’s how life is, isn’t it?
“I thank you, but must correct you. I am but the Inspector General’s adjutant, Jaf Daskal. His Excellency is behind me,” my sweeping arm indicating Wanliet, who had miraculously remained clean during our trek, which helped further the fraud. W’s eyes goggled – this wasn’t religious awe we were receiving, but governmental respect, and W was no more accustomed to it than I was. None of us were, for that matter. But, first things first, and before fatigue and confusion led to a misstep I took things in hand. “We’ve been traveling, and are weary, cold and hungry. What have you prepared for his Excellency?” Probably prepared nothing, I said to myself; best to keep them on their heels.
“Please, your Excellency, follow us to your accommodations.” Hmmm – one surprise after another! With that they all did an about-face, and we continued on. I did notice, though, that a pretty young thing had turned a bit more slowly than the others, and now presented me with a most alluring walk. I was almost hypnotized, but collected myself enough to signal to my group that I was still the official mouthpiece, and they should remain silent. So far all the surprises had been good, why complicate things?
The town was not too shabby, really, but hardly grand. It was clean enough, and sturdy enough, but not the sort of place to provoke ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs.’ Yet when you’re tired, hungry, wet, and being pursued by a psychopath, you’re easily pleased, and the little mansion they put us up in looked like a delightful pleasure dome with hot and cold running servants.
Once more I’d landed on my feet, and with a nudge and a wink the universe had revealed its sense of humor.