CHAPTER 15
Syd was worried. For the first time in weeks, they had not found a cave to camp in. They were well hidden by grass plants and had fashioned a canopy of grass over their site. In the pre-dawn twilight, Robert had a small fire going and was broiling their meal, the smoke masked by the mists clinging to the foot of the mountain. A distant vibration of sound warned them of a rocket ship.
The rising yellow sun gradually evaporated the mists, revealing a thin wisp of smoke curling slowly above the high grass and dissipating in the morning air. The Guardian on the aircraft patrolling some distance away spotted the smoke, dimly silhouetted against the black rock of the mountain. The aircraft came in, weapons firing, blasting the area, and swept past. It banked and came close to survey the damage and began to settle just outside the ravaged area. A bolt of intense yellow fire leapt from a rocky outcrop a short distance away and completely engulfed the aircraft. It fell abruptly, landing hard, black smoke escaping from a break in its fuselage. The bay door opened and the occupants staggered out. Another bolt of lightning caught them and swept into the open craft.
Syd and Robert rushed forward. Syd wore the special weapon, the crown shaped to his head, the visor forward, his hand on the power pack, ready to fire. Robert ran with bow and arrow tensed for launching. A Guardian and two Warriors lay sprawled in front of the craft, their bodies blackened. They entered the aircraft and found three more bodies in the bay.
“They always seem to go one and six,” Syd whispered. “I’m going to check the cabin.”
He moved forward cautiously. The cabin door was open. A Warrior lay sprawled, his body inert, the tendrils on one leg splayed out and withered, high pitched cries emanating from it but barely audible. It’s wounded, Syd thought, what do I do now?
The Warrior saw him and raised both arms, the tendrils hanging limply. Was this a gesture of surrender? Syd wondered, and realized he couldn’t kill it. It was one thing to defend yourself against attack, but quite another to kill a helpless creature in cold blood or whatever flowed through it.
He left the cabin and shut the door. They found two special weapons stored under a seat and stripped the dead Guardian of its weapon which they hoped had survived the blast.
“That was damn close,” said Robert. “It’s a good thing we heard them coming and got out of the way.”
“Yeah, too close for comfort. What do we do now?”
“We get out of here quickly. They must have radioed their position as they attacked. We’ll head across the grassland to the other side of the valley. I’m sure they’ll search this side first. We have my bag with some food. Yours got destroyed. Let’s go and stay close.”
They ran past the aircraft and into the grassland. It wasn’t like grass or wheat fields on Earth, Syd noted. These were stalks of plants, as high as a basketball net, set apart enough that they could run amongst them. Here and there in the valley were copses of trees. They ran a long time, perhaps an hour, when they reached one of these copses.
Looking back, they could see an aircraft approach the downed ship. They ran on, sweating and breathing hard in the sweltering heat of the yellow sun and the closeness of the grass stalks. At the next copse, Robert climbed a tree and looked back.
“More ships arriving. Let’s go.”
They ran on. Syd had become accustomed to running, but now his lungs were heaving, and he was terribly thirsty. It was his admiration of Robert and his unwillingness to let him down that kept him going. Robert must be almost twice my age, Syd thought, and he never seems to tire.
They rested at the next copse. They found a spring, drank and splashed water on their faces. “We’re about halfway across the valley. If possible, I’d like to get to the other side before we stop.” They took it as an encouraging sign that there were still no overhead craft. Either the search hadn’t started or it was still confined to the mountain range they had left.
They reached the edge of the valley just as the sun was setting, casting a long shadow over the approaches to the mountain and the trees that hung clustered to its steeply rising side. Robert climbed a tree and looked back. There was just enough light to reflect off the fleet of aircraft that were twisting and turning along the mountain range across the valley. He could just make out scores of hand held lights moving up and down and along the mountain they had fled from.
“They’re like a nest of angry bees,” Robert observed. “We sure poked that hive.”
“ Can we stay here?” Syd was very tired but knew the answer to his question.
“No. They’ll eventually come this way. Even with our extra firepower, we can’t hold them off. We’ve got to head up the mountain and find shelter above the snow line. This mountain is honeycombed like the others. I’ve been here once before and I found a cave high up, close to the Winds of Dawn.”
They found the entrance to a dark gorge that led deep into the mountain. A small stream trickled down. As the gorge narrowed, they stepped into the stream and followed it, slipping on the slick stones that lined its bed, occasionally tripping in the near darkness over brush or larger rocks that clogged the stream. Far up ahead, they could make out a patch of lighter grey, heralding the end of the gorge and the open sky. As they continued to climb, the light grey slowly paled and became crimson. When they finally reached the top of the gorge, the red sun was crawling over the horizon.
The gorge had taken them high up the mountain and around a limb. They could no longer see the grass land valley nor the activities of their pursuers. A broad slope populated with trees led them further up.
“Before we go any further, we’ve got to get some fire wood and a firebrand or two.”
Robert snapped off some branches and smeared the ends with sap from the trees. Syd gathered an armful of sticks and twigs which Robert lashed together with a length of flax cut from a plant growing among the trees. They raced through the trees and paused at the tree line to rest a moment.
“From now on, there’s no cover. We’ll move as fast as we can and rest only where there’s some rock to shelter against.”
They climbed steadily and soon found themselves sloshing through drifts of snow.
The air was bitingly cold, and Syd was grateful for the warm fur he wore. They spotted far ahead a steeple of rock pushing out from the snow and headed towards it. They had just reached their goal and were resting against its upper side, when they heard the roar of an approaching rocket. They covered their faces and pressed themselves against the black rock, hoping their dark fur would blend in. The roar became louder and then faded away as the rocket ship flashed overhead and continued around the mountain. They waited a long time.
“There’s another outcropping further up. We’ll wait a few more minutes and then head for it.”
They made it to several more rock shelters before they again heard the rocket ship. It passed far away on the lower side of the mountain.
They were now in deep snow, whipped up by the downward eddies of the Winds of Dawn. They climbed higher but progress was slow and laboured. They rested more often, clutching and hanging on to each other as the blizzard-like conditions worsened, .and the snow shifted under their feet.
“We can’t go much higher,” Robert shouted into Syd’s ear. “The terrain is too steep, and the wind is getting too strong. The cave I found is around here somewhere.”
They pressed against a cliff face that shot up abruptly towards the peak and edged cautiously along it. The narrow ledge they were standing on ended in a steep precipice. Robert, leading, saw it just in time as the swirling snow parted for a brief moment. He pushed Syd back along the ledge, and they inched their way back. Over the shriek and howl of the wind, they made out the faint roar of another rocket ship, but they were shielded from sight by a thick curtain of gusting snow which completely enveloped them.
Syd could barely see as the downdraft from the Winds of Dawn flayed him with stinging particles of sleety snow and swept around his neck, deep under the fur. He was cold and fearfully tired, gasping for breath in the thin air, a numbing sensation clawing up his legs, his feet faltering.
“Keep going,” he thought he heard Robert shout. “If we stop now, we’re dead.”
Syd concentrated on pushing each foot along the narrow gallery, one step at a time. He had no target in mind, just get one foot to move its allotted inch and then move the other foot up to it.
They reached a wide overhang of rock that relieved them momentarily of the flailing snow. They leaned back against the wall, capturing whatever rest they could. Syd, inhaling gulps of air, gradually recovered his breathing and, to his chagrin, noted that Robert wasn’t even winded. Half way up the mountain, he had taken the armful of firewood from Syd and had added the firebrands to his pack. I’m a lucky guy, Syd thought, to have teamed up with Superman. He knew they couldn’t rest long — they were perched on a narrow ledge, shrouded in shadow and growing darkness, the last light from the setting red sun dimmed by the cascade of snow that swept over the roof of their retreat and flung itself into the depths below.
He stamped his feet, trying to restore the circulation, and kicked back against the wall. To his surprise, it gave way, and he almost lost his balance, but Robert caught him as he fell forward.
“There’s a hole,” he shouted to Robert.
He kicked back more carefully and once again he felt his foot encounter nothingness. Robert eased himself down along the ledge and with a hand pushed against the wall. Clumps of snow and loose rock fell out revealing a small fissure. They both tore feverishly at the edges of the fissure until the hole was large enough to squeeze through.
“Be careful,” Robert cautioned as he stood up. “The hole is right behind you. Go in feet first and feel around to make sure there are no drops.”
With Robert’s help, Syd faced the mountain, put his feet through the opening and slid slowly down to a sitting position on the ledge. He thrashed about with his legs. The ground was rocky and uneven but felt solid. He shimmied his lower body through and then his head and arms. He reached up into empty space. He turned on to his hands and knees and gingerly explored the area around him. In the pitch dark, he raised himself cautiously, holding one arm over his head. He felt the ceiling slope up from the entrance and high enough to stand up straight. He lowered himself to his hands and knees again and gasped in terror when he could not find the entrance.
“You ok?” Robert’s voice pointed him in the right direction, and he could just make out a patch of lesser gloom. He put his head out.
“It seems ok. I can’t tell how large the space is, but it feels big enough for both of us.”
He pulled Robert’s bag, and then his bow and arrows, and the firewood through the opening, and finally Robert himself. They lay a long time breathing heavily, listening to the muted scream of the wind, relieved to be free of the lashing snow.
They were cold and uncomfortable lying on the uneven floor, but fatigue overwhelmed them, and they dozed off. Robert awoke first. He reached around for Syd and nudged him. Syd groaned, yawned and sat up, painfully stiff and shivering. A shaft of light poked through the opening, heralding the rise of the yellow sun. The immediate area in front of the opening was illuminated, but all else was shrouded in deepening shades of grey and blackness. Robert pulled some shavings out of his bag, placed them on a flat stone, and applied his flint. The shavings began to smoke and soon erupted in a small flame. He put twigs and sticks on the fire and some heat and light radiated through the shelter. He then lit one of the firebrands, and holding it aloft, walked around their haven.
“It’s a small cave, more like a grotto.”
The brand lit up the wisps of smoke rising from the fire. “But look. The smoke is wafting along the ceiling and disappearing at the back of the cave.”
Syd stood up now, and they both followed the exiting smoke. At one side, a short gallery led to a narrow wall of what looked like solid stone. At the top was a hole the size of a brick and the smoke was disappearing through it.
“Well,” Robert said, “there’s something behind that wall. Let’s get warmed up a bit and have something to eat, and then we’ll explore some more.”
Robert took another stick from their precious bundle of firewood, broke it into four and carefully arranged the pieces on the small fire. The flames cast a glow of warmth.
“For food, all we’ve got left is some haggis.”
Robert cut the remainder into bite-size chunks and divided it evenly between them. They munched slowly, masticating every bite to prolong the sense of eating. Robert pulled a hand-carved wooden bowl from the bag and filled it with snow from the cave opening. He set the bowl close to the fire. The snow melted, leaving a thin slick of water at the bottom. He handed the bowl to Syd. “We’ll keep filling the bowl until we’ve had enough to drink. It’s not a good idea to eat snow without melting it — it quickly lowers your body temperature.” It took quite a few refills before they considered their thirst assuaged.
“Let’s see where the smoke is going.”
Syd, standing on Robert’s shoulders, inserted a firebrand through the narrow opening at the top and peered past it. He reached over with his other arm to steady himself and a stone came loose. He pushed it and listened to it fall.
“There’s definitely a cave on the other side,” he reported.
He hammered the stone with his fists. A few pebbles broke loose but the rock remained firm. They stood back from the stone wall, contemplating it in the dim light from the firebrand.
“We’ve got to find a way to get into it. I always feel better if I have an escape route.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Syd said. “I’ll try to blast it clear.” He strapped the power pack around his waist, put the crown piece on his head and flipped the visor down across his eyes.
“Hang on,” warned Robert. “Just a tiny shot or the ricochet will blow us all up. Aim towards the opening. Maybe we can chip away at it.”
Through the eyepiece in the visor, Syd aimed at the opening near the ceiling and pressed once rapidly on the power pack button. A spurt of yellow fire lit up the cave for a brief moment, lashed the stone wall, and rebounded out the small cave entrance to the outside world.
Far away, a patrolling rocket ship registered on its detection instrument a sharp blip in energy and headed toward it.
Inside the cave, there was the sound of cracking and splintering rock. Choking and coughing as dust filled the cave, Syd and Robert surveyed the result. The hole had widened considerably and cracks radiated away through the stone. They both hammered away at the weakened stone wall with their bare fists and dislodged more stones.
The opening now reached halfway down from the ceiling. With the light from their firebrands, they peered into a large space. Its rock strewn floor was almost even with their cave and sloped gradually upwards. The wisps of smoke from their fire fled up the slope, disappearing into the dark, seemingly drawn to the distant howl of the wind.
“Climb over the wall, Syd, and I’ll hand you our stuff, and then we’ll explore further.”
He handed Syd his bag, the few sticks of firewood left, his bow and arrows, and a couple of firebrands lit by the glowing embers of the dying fire. He was about to join Syd when he heard above the wind the faint roar of a rocket engine.
“Be with you in a minute. I want to see where that aircraft is.”
Lying flat on his stomach, Robert peered through the cave opening. He saw no sign of the aircraft and could no longer hear the engine. The Winds of Dawn had altered direction slightly for its sound was a modest howl instead of a constant shriek, and there was less snow sifting down from the overhang. He thrust his head and shoulders through the opening to better observe the flank of the mountain and the valley beyond. Still he could see no sign of their pursuers and was about to withdraw when he spotted the aircraft lower down and off to one side, hovering silently, pointing towards their cave, and saw its forward cannon erupt in a white flash that rivalled the sun.
The explosion caught Syd as he was walking away from the opening to the cavern. It blew him down, hard against the rocky floor, stunning him. He lay there gasping, not quite conscious, in that groping state between awareness and oblivion. A second explosion rolled him along the floor of the cavern, butting his head against rocks and stones. He did not hear or feel the explosion from the third shell.
Monty, Ernie and Jeff were relaxing after their shift by the pool beside the cataract. They were lying naked, enjoying the warm breezes drying their bodies, hoping the fragrant air would eliminate the last foul odours clogging their nostrils.
“You know,” Jeff said, “I think we’ll permanently stink if we’re here much longer. There must come a point when the smell is lodged so deep, it never leaves you.”
“You were here before,” Ernie said, “and you smelled ok back at the camp.”
“Ernie, I never noticed you sniffing me. That must be something you do in Toronto. But I was here only a month last time. We’re well over a month now and no end in sight.”
“As bad as it is,” Monty put in reassuringly, “at least we can wash up at the end of each shift. It’s our clothing that is slowly becoming impregnated. Maybe if we’re good boys, we can persuade them to give us a change of clothing.”
“Yeah,” snapped Jeff, “ like the story of the Roman galley slaves. One day the ship’s captain comes to them. ‘Men, I’ve got good news. You’re getting a change of underwear. Harry, you change with Dick. Joe, you change with Tom.’”
Laughing heartily, Monty said, “Maybe we should try that. But some other time, here comes trouble.”
Six Warriors and the Guardian in charge were approaching, along with two other Guardians. A Warrior carried the translation equipment. The three men jumped up, pulled on their clothing, and bowed. They had seen an aircraft land before, but hadn’t paid it much attention.
“We demand the assistance of one of you. Which one of you is most familiar with the escaped slave?”
Monty stepped forward. Instinctively, he knew that the news would be bad.
“I know him the longest. He was my friend and colleague. What has happened?”
“The escaped slave has been tracked down and killed. Because of the location, we are unable to access the site. It is in deep snow, and the Winds of Dawn make it impossible to hover close enough. It is not far from here. You will climb to the cave and bring out the body.”
Monty knew that Syd’s situation was precarious, and that the news would eventually be tragic, but it tore threw him nevertheless. Here was a talented, energetic and enthusiastic young man, robbed of his career and now of his life. His crime was to express his love for a woman.
“I am sorry to hear of his death. It makes me very sad. He was a good man.”
“The escaped slave is a murderer,” the monotone voice blared. ”He has wounded a servant of our command, killed a Guardian and six Warriors when he first escaped, and two suns ago, shot down one of our aircraft and killed a Guardian and five Warriors. The Warriors will prepare you for the mission which will depart shortly.”
The three men looked at each other, their faces expressing their grief. The news would devastate the group, and they were not there to help them.
“Since the escaped slave has been killed, surely we can now be returned to the camp,” Monty suggested.
“You will return to the camp with the body, so that the slaves may witness the consequences of defiance.”
The two Guardians walked off to their aircraft. The Warriors motioned the three men to follow them to their tent. They presented Monty with padded trousers and jacket and boots.
“How could the escaped slave shoot down an aircraft?” Monty asked. “All he had was a bow and arrow.”
While the other Warriors ignored the question, one Warrior spoke up: “In the last attack, the Warrior Pilot was lying wounded when the escaped slave came upon him. The Warrior, believing he was about to die, raised his arms as it is our custom to die fighting. But the escaped slave spared him. Why?”
Why? Monty thought. Why indeed? Would he have been as generous faced with the same situation? Their captors had shown them no reason to be merciful, yet Syd, no doubt desperate, angry, had not killed a helpless combatant.
“We kill only when attacked. We don’t kill wounded opponents who are helpless and can no longer harm us.”
“If the Warrior had been armed with the special weapon, he would not have been helpless and could have defended himself. We have often asked to be so armed. But to do so would not be in conformity with the Sacred Writings.”
“What are these Sacred Writings?” asked Ernie. The news of Syd’s death had struck him hard. He had recruited Syd into the PDG Corporation and now felt personally responsible for his tragic end. “Are your Sacred Writings the revelation of your God?”
“We do not believe in a Supreme Being. We do not practice any form of worship except our respect for the Sacred Writings and our love of our natural surroundings. We will sing to the Sacred Writings because we value the accord, power and prosperity it has brought to our two clans. We sing to the red sun on this planet because it is exceptional, large and beautiful.”
“But if your Sacred writings are not God-given,” Jeff asked, “why are they sacred? Why do they give you the right to enslave and to kill?”
He, too, was grieving Syd’s death. He and Syd had hit it off almost from the moment Syd had arrived at Planet Dawn. They had become boon companions, jointly finding humour and entertainment in their daily routine. He had spent hours counselling Syd about his love for Rebecca, trying to help him find ways to get around Joshua’s recalcitrance. In hindsight, he felt he had made a mistake and should have advised Syd to steer clear.
“Centuries ago, our two species were constantly at war, with frightful losses on both sides. Our weapons were conventional — projectiles of all sizes propelled by combustible materials. You call these guns, cannons, artillery. Then the Guardians invented the special weapon and began using it. We faced impossible odds, but still we were able to inflict numerous casualties on them. Finally, a revered ancestor from either side proposed a truce in order to determine conditions that would lead to a permanent peace. These conditions were debated, agreed upon, and written down. These conditions are the Sacred Writings, the treaty that binds our two clans. According to these Writings, the Guardians have sole right to the special weapon, the Warriors may have only conventional weapons to defend their cities and aircraft. Warriors may carry only truncheons and whips. In an attack, if the Guardian is killed, the Warriors may have no means of defending themselves. It is for this reason that we ask that we be armed with the special weapon.”
“The Guardians will never agree,” Monty insisted. “They’re afraid of you. How do they know you won’t use the special weapon on them?”
“This is nonsense. We have been at peace for centuries.”
“But they are your superiors. They are in charge. The camp commander is a Guardian. The planet commander is a Guardian. Who is in charge on your home planet?”
For a moment the monotone computer went silent. “Enough talk. You are dressed. I attach this device to the top of your jacket. It is a two-way communicator. You must describe everything you see in the cave. This bag contains food and drink as it will take many hours to climb to the cave. In addition, there is a device in the bag which you call a video camera. When you enter the cave, you will use the camera so we may see exactly what you see. Our weapons will be pointing at the cave and at you. Any action by you that is deemed suspicious will incur immediate consequences. You will be searched when you return to the ship. Let us go now.”
Monty shook hands with Ernie and Jeff, slung the bag over his shoulder and followed the Warrior to the waiting aircraft.
Along with consciousness came a gush of pain. It began as a pulsating, throbbing ache in his head and permeated every muscle as his body slowly awoke. He lay a long while, vainly trying to recall what had happened. When he did remember, he sat up suddenly, and then fell back, writhing in agony and quelling the nausea that threatened to erupt. He sat up once more, slowly, carefully. He put a hand to his face and felt warm stickiness and guessed it was blood. When the dizziness left him, he rolled onto his knees, then eased himself upright. A fit of near fainting pushed him back to the ground. He retched, great gulping retches that somehow relieved him. He stood up again and was able to take a few tentative steps. He tottered to the half wall separating the inner from the outer cave. The explosions had enlarged the outside entrance, allowing in more light, but the cave was still shrouded in gloom. He spotted what was left of Robert sticking out of the rubble. His eyes wet with tears, nausea and dizziness overtook him and he sat down hard, his back against the half wall. He closed his eyes and waited until the cave stopped swirling. He moved his arms and legs, fingers and toes. Nothing seemed broken.
For the moment, his spirit was broken. Robert was gone, and Syd was terribly alone and had little confidence that he could manage for any length of time on his own. He grieved for Robert, he grieved for Rebecca and his lost love, and he grieved for himself.
He stroked the fur sleeve of one arm. Along with the little bit of wilderness knowledge he had had time to impart, the fur garment was Robert’s legacy to him. It had kept him from freezing to death. As his senses gradually returned to normal, he felt his hunger and thirst. He would not last too much longer if he didn’t get food and water.
What would Robert have done if I had been killed instead? Syd thought. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but clearly some time had elapsed. There was no sound or sight of the enemy. Had they concluded that the fugitives were dead? He dared not leave the cave until the sun set and provided a short cover of the semi-darkness. Even so he would be silhouetted against the snow as he made his way down the mountain. If the enemy had indeed given up the chase, then he could make it to the trees. Robert had showed him some flowers he could eat to stave off starvation. If the bow and arrows had escaped destruction, he could shoot one of the squirrels which were plentiful in the woods. First, however, Robert would have explored the cave to determine whether there was another exit.
Syd lurched to his feet, and felt his way to the near corner where he had cached the items Robert had given him just before the explosion. He found one of the firebrands and some shavings in the bag, and with his flint rock managed after a few tries to light the shavings and the firebrand.
He broke up the last of the firewood and placed the pieces on the burning shavings. He stood over the small fire, warming his hands and absorbing some of the heat. The light from the fire and its meagre warmth somehow comforted him and took the edge off the pain that still flowed through his body.
The smoke from the fire flew up an atrium-like space to a vent at the top. Even if he could climb up the atrium, he would find himself in the midst of the Winds of Dawn which he could hear howling and screaming. There was no other exit. He returned to the fire to wait for sunset and a dash to the trees. The fire soon burned through, leaving a few glowing embers which slowly blinked out.
He checked the contents of the bag. The two special weapons they had taken from the downed aircraft seemed unscathed. He still wore his own special weapon. There were some shavings in the bag, a stone axe, and a flint rock. He found the remaining arrows and inserted them in the bag. He shouldered the bag and the bow, sat back against the half wall and waited.
He wanted desperately to sleep, but the shivery cold kept him awake. Sitting became too uncomfortable, and he stood up and walked around, swinging his arms to stimulate some warmth in his body. It was then, over the noise of the shrieking wind, he heard something that aroused in him anger and hatred, laced with terror — the faint roar of a rocket engine. Fully alert, he peered over the half wall to the outside entrance. He could see nothing, but the sound of the rocket engine was noticeably closer. Were they going to shell the cave again? He stepped away from the open area, crouched down against the wall, fully expecting the explosion.
Minutes went by and nothing happened. He could no longer hear the rocket engine. He had to find out if the ship was hovering close by or had passed on. He knew what had happened to Robert. However, the entrance was larger now — perhaps he could observe without being seen.
He flipped his head forward and the visor fell over his eyes. He slipped over the half wall, and with his finger on the button of the power pack, gingerly approached the cave entrance, keeping to one side. He saw the aircraft part way down the mountainside, a few feet above the slope. The bay door was open. A figure emerged, jumped to the ground, and started up the slope, laboriously breaking through the deep snow. Were they coming to investigate? How could they? Mushrooms can’t walk through snow.
He climbed back over the half wall, fished the other two special weapons out of the bag, and waited. He had no idea how many had left the aircraft and were plodding up the mountain, but he would kill the ones entering the cave and then try to destroy the aircraft.
This might be his last battle, but he would take as many with him as he could. He no longer