Me Ma Supial!

by Ged Maybury

  Kynn nodded, but said nothing aloud, then quickly changed the subject, “By the way, how did the Drop go?”

  Dr Nam answered in a tone that suggested she had hoped for the opposite, “It went down perfectly; clear skies, all pontoons fired; right on target.”

  “So, he got all his fuel?”

  “All it could safely take, plus weapons, rations, and five pathetic shivering young men. God, I hate waking them up for this!”

  Kynn nodded sympathetically. “You’ll get your turn, one day.” She could see the timer running to zero. Twenty-one seconds remaining. Dr K looked so miserable.

  “Soon!” Kynn added as optimistically as she could, “You’ll get down here!”

  “It’s not that,” replied Kei Nam, “It’s knowing what they’re in for. Shoving them into that pod, not even saying goodbye. It was unbearable!”

  Kynn had nothing to say. She just gazed at Doctor Nam as the timer ran to zero. More than ever before, she wanted to be up there. She wanted to be able to do something. To fix everything. And she knew she couldn’t.

  Suddenly Doctor Nam’s image collapsed into static.

  “I’m losing it!” shouted Kynn, “Remember, buzz me!”

  Doctor Nam's voice held on a few seconds longer, “Yes! Good luck, Kynn. I...”

  Kynn shut off the hiss and static and tried to stay calm. She could feel Mica’s warmth pressed to hers. She turned to him, doing her best to sound cheerful, “Everything’s fine. Let’s get going!”

  BY ELEVEN O’CLOCK THE skimmer's charge had fallen to fourteen percent. The extra load and the difficult terrain of winding ridges, steep descents and power-consuming traverses had taken its toll. Kynn stopped to recharge on a rocky shoulder overlooking the wilderness to the south-west. At any other time she would have thought it beautiful, but now it represented nothing but danger and uncertainty. Mica prowled the crevices in the rocks, either looking for food, or dangerous creatures, or both. She wasn't sure.

  But Kynn soon realised she had been wrong on both counts. Mica came back with a flake of stone, some sort of layered quartz, and presented it to her.

  Kynn studied it awhile, politely, turning it about in the light, then stowed it in a pocket, “Thank you, it's very pretty.”

  How was she to deal with this Supial? He seemed so vacant, so childlike and love-struck, yet he had already saved her at least three times. Now he was standing fearlessly on the cliff-edge, peering westwards.

  “There!” he suddenly said, “that's where we camped!”

  She looked. All she could see was a glimpse of a distant river, like a flat brown gap between the endless tree-cover on the distant plains. Then she began to make out the differences in foliage, the richer colour green that marking the river's path.

  She was curious, “So, when did you camp there?”

  “Last Moon. On my Man-time.”

  “Ah. On the way to the Sacred Place?”

  Suddenly he went quiet, glanced south towards where she had guessed it to be, and nodded. “You haven't been there, have you? On your ... skimmer?” It was the first time she had heard him try a human word.

  “No, never,” she answered.

  He seemed satisfied by this. He glanced back at the skimmer, now spread out like a silver flower on the red rocks, and said simply, “I'm hungry.”

  She found some of her food and shared it with him. He brought out dried fish and a cake made from the sweet tubers his people called kumara, and shared it with her. For a while it was peaceful. The sun climbed higher and they retreated under the sparse trees to doze through the mid-day heat.

  Kynn woke suddenly, worried. She checked her wrist-com. Nothing. She went to the skimmer and checked it too (nothing) and the charge. Thirty-two percent. Ideal recharging conditions. Good!

  She checked her position and the distance she needed to go, looking out at the landscape, studying the pattern of ridges, mentally revised her route. She glanced at her watch. Two o’clock. How long would it take them to bring in the pod? Refuel the plane? Would he start today!?

  I’m still in range! screamed her mind, I’m not ready!

  “Come on, Mica!” she said calmly, “We have to be moving on.” He got up without complaint, seemingly able to wake instantly, and came to help her fold in the panels.

  TWO MORE HOURS SAW to most of the remaining charge, but they were well down near the plains by then, and it was warmer. Kynn cruised slowly along the final high ridge, looking for a sunny place to recharge and somewhere for the plane to land. According to her earlier calculations she was now roughly at its extreme range. All she needed was something to induce her father to land – to risk everything to get at her. If he could land! Because trees were the problem. They covered the entire landscape like an old worn carpet, damn it!

  Finally, with the skimmer at three per cent charge, she spied a rocky shoulder on the top of a ridge, strewn with scattered boulders but with very few large trees. It was the best she had seen.

  “Hang on, we’re going down!”

  She parked on the downhill edge, facing the westering sun, and quickly spread the panels. Mica, as usual, prowled off. Kynn hardly noticed as she rummaged in the utility bin. Yes, here it was, the small multi-purpose laser-cutter. She set it to 'WOOD' and went straight up to the wide flat area. She looked around. Five modest trees, a dozen small boulders, and one real monster of a rock, about shoulder-high.

  She heaved at it. No movement. Explosives? She had none.

  “Leverage!” she said aloud, “I just need a few good poles!”

  Quickly she went to the first tree. The wood was dry but volatile. The oils spluttered and smoked, stinging her eyes, as the wood fizzed into scorched crumbs under the laser’s intense white line. Then the tree went down with a crash that sent hundreds of parrots squawking from the tree-tops.

  Mica was suddenly there, looking alarmed. “You crazy Human! You cut him down without the proper songs!” He was furious with her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I.. I should have asked you. Okay, let’s do the songs then. And to the boulders too, if you like.”

  “Boulders you just tell them,” said Mica, “They ain’t so alive.” He laid his hands on the fallen tree and began singing, his voice a wrenching tone of grief and remorse. She sank onto one of the smaller boulders, feeling wretched herself.

  Time slipped away. Still angry, Mica taught her the Supial words to his songs and they sang to the other four trees; first a song of praise, then one of regret, then one that spoke of fertility and regeneration. Finally the ceremonies were over and she got on with the work. From the fallen trees she cut some sturdy levers and some roller-logs and they began on the boulders. The smaller ones proved easy, but the largest one refused to budge, even with their full weight on both the levers.

  Kynn began to panic, but she pushed the feeling down. “Let's rest. I'll check on the skimmer.”

  The sun was getting low and the panels were now in shade. She folded them in, feeling suddenly hopeless, hungry and tired.

  Mica noticed. He hugged her, unbidden, and pulled her head onto his shoulder. She resisted at first, then quickly gave in to it. After all, it was getting late. Her father wouldn't go flying into the night, would he? Oh Lord, she hoped not!

  Suddenly Mica pulled back as if he too were struggling with his thoughts, “I'll make us a bed,” he said quickly, glancing up at the sky, “won't rain, let's hope. No time to build a humpy.” He looked around, studying the lie of the land, “And we'll need water, and petrol-tree wood. And I'll see if I can find some dinner-grubs too!” He scuttled off down the hill.

  She was alone for maybe ten seconds, then the skimmer bleeped.

  EQUALISER

  IT WAS DOCTOR K, AND the image was very poor. Kynn knew that the mother-ship was probably on a northerly pass, meaning a long slanting transmission through the atmosphere. Doctor Nam was probably getting no picture at all.

  “Kynn!” she began briskly, “we've got three minutes. How are
you?”

  “I'm okay. In position, nearly ready.”

  “Good.” Doctor Nam smiled bravely, but Kynn could see she was frazzled, “It's sunset at Base. I've been monitoring as best I can. They spent the day converting the pod into a building. He must have been working them like slaves.”

  Kynn just nodded, forgetting about Dr K’s lack of picture.

  “The flight looks set for tomorrow, so you've got a breathing space.”

  “I think I'll need it. You will buzz me, won’t you?”

  “As soon as the plane is on course to your position.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Um,” said Doctor Nam hesitantly, “about Mica...”

  “Yes?”

  “You're not... ah... you know...?”

  “Oh! Heavens no! He's just, you know, we’re just good friends.” The question had sent Kynn’s mind free-wheeling through a hundred frightening ideas: could she marry an alien? Could they... have babies? And what would her father think? Damn him! Damn you! Get out of my mind!

  “Good, good,” Dr K was saying, “Because, you know, the genetic similarities. It'll have to be tested some time, once this is over.” It seemed like Dr K was trying to say something else. Then it came out, “Kynn, I really, ... I just want to say, may the Lord be with you!” The woman’s voice was all emotion. And before Kynn could reply, the connection failed.

  MICA RETURNED AT SUNSET, loaded with stuff. Kynn prepared a fire site while he hastily wove long strips of soft fibrous bark into two large blankets. Now and again he'd pick out an insect. Some he ate. Others he flicked away. Then he carefully selected a bed-site, cleared it and laid out the blankets.

  The fire lit quickly, thanks to a short burst from the laser, and Mica busied himself threading dozens of live grubs onto a pointed stick. Kynn quickly looked away, wondering what was left of her own rations. But she ate the grubs when they were ready, doing her best to overcome her revulsion.

  They tasted like chicken.

  She rigged the survival sheet over the bed as a crude tent. She didn’t quite trust Mica’s prediction of a rain-free night. Mica was intrigued by the gleaming material. He kept turning the foil side to the firelight, peering at the reflected colours and giggling.

  They sat, quietly watching the fire die down. At least Kynn was quiet. Mica seemed in his element, telling stories and once again babbling out his dreams of a shared future; marriage, effectively. Time and again Kynn glanced hesitantly towards the bed, then back to him. His eyes gleamed in the firelight. Then their eyes chanced to meet. She held his gaze, feeling a chaotic mix of emotions, then quickly broke away. She stood up.

  “I, ah, I have to go mi-mi.” It was a word she'd picked up while staying in the Women's House. He let her go, watching her hand-held light wavering away between the thin trees downhill. He went in the another direction, slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He needed to do the same thing.

  They rejoined at the fire.

  Mica arranged the bedding while she held the light, then they got in.

  “Good night,” she said.

  He didn't quite understand. “Sure is,” he answered, snuggling into her warmth.

  “No, I mean...” She didn't go on. Out the side of their makeshift tent she could see the bright stars. The air was very clear.

  Up there, somewhere, was the sun she had been born under. But it was something she could not remember any more. Not the sun, nor anything outdoors. She remembered plenty of rooms, a few toys, lots of travel, sitting in churches watching her father preaching, seeing him preaching on television, even at home, preaching. And hitting her, always the smacking, and sometimes the stick, just for making noise sometimes, and once for being a girl instead of a boy.

  Suddenly she stopped remembering, forced her eyes across the sky, down to the glow of the embers nearby, then turned them into the near-darkness that was Mica beside her. Warm furry Mica, who had begun running his fingers through her hair, absent-mindedly checking her for insects. Hesitantly she stroked his fur. It was sparse and soft, like short human hair all over him. Not like an animal at all.

  Her fingers accidentally tangled in the cord of his ‘dangle-pouch’ and she tugged it up. “What is in here?” she murmured.

  “My Name-keep,” he replied, “I'll show you in the morning.”

  “Mica?”

  “Yes?”

  “No, I mean, is it a piece of mica?”

  “Yes.” He sounded surprised.

  “You're a very nice Supial.” she told him sincerely. (She had nearly said 'boy'.) “I'm very glad I'm with you.”

  “Well you are Kynn Wheeler,” he replied, “so I'm the luckiest dude in the world!”

  “You know, some of your people don't approve of me.”

  “Oh they all love you, but they don't like to see me love you as a lovie does.”

  “Shouldn't you be interested in Supial girls?”

  “No way! Supial women, yes, but not girls!”

  “Oh, sorry, I meant women.”

  “Well, yeah, but I love you, Kynn Wheeler, and that's what matters.”

  “Will you always be this –” she didn't know the Supial word for 'kind' “– this soft and loving?”

  “Always.”

  “Would you like children one day?”

  “My village Healer is very good! She will help you to grow a pouch, I'm sure.”

  She laughed, then carefully edged around the subject. “Oh no that’s fine, I can have babies, but in the human way.”

  He seemed surprised by this. She explained, feeling a bit uncomfortable about such a taboo subject. At least, it had always been taboo before. “Human babies grow a lot bigger before they are born, so they don’t need pouching like Supials. They’re just about as big as pouchies. A bit more helpless, though.”

  “It must hurt terribly!” said Mica, very concerned.

  “I, I don’t know. Maybe.” She went silent. Having babies was the least of her concerns right then. The very thought of... That. No. She had to survive a lot of things before she could ever contemplate That!

  Carefully she rolled over, turning her back to him. He said nothing, just took the same position behind her, warm, reassuring, one arm curled over her side and draped loosely around her. By some silent mutual consent they kept the same positions all night, oscillating left and right whenever the need to roll over became too great. Mica was asleep quickly, but Kynn lay awake, still immersed in worry.

  Yet try as she might she could no longer think clearly. She could not plan anything; or remember anything; or for that matter even fear anything. She floated on a curious wave of emotion, sort of timeless and empty. For some reason a line from the Wordolord kept repeating itself in her brain: “And the Lordie took St Curran up unto His own Domain, where there was a Great Lightness, and Time was no more, and there was nothing but the great Void.”

  A SHARP BEEPING NOISE woke Mica. It wasn't a dawn bird, at least not one he had ever heard before. He opened his eyes, peered around, at last remembering where he was and who he was with. If it were not for that insistent beeping he would have snuggled down with his lovie again. But it would not stop, and finally he realised where the sound was coming from. The skimmer.

  He nudged her gently, “Kynn Wheeler? Kynn Wheeler, wakie-wakie.” She woke slowly, as if from a deep sleep, then suddenly shot upright, her head pushing up under her shiny tent.

  “Oh Lordie!” she cried, and scrambled clumsily out of the blanket, running to the skimmer. She was only there for a few moments, then she came running back.

  “Mica, we've got to move!” she was shouted.

  “Before breakfast?”

  “Come on!” she snapped, tugging at him, “We've got to move that last boulder!”

  He got up reluctantly, “Why?” he asked, pausing to prod at the embers of the fire and feeding it the few dried twigs he'd kept from yesterday. A few dinner grubs would go down a treat right then.

  “He's coming!” she shouted, almost hysteri
cal.

  Suddenly he was paying her a lot more attention. “Who?”

  “My fa ... the, the bad human, Pastor Wheeler! He'll be here soon.” She stopped, and her face took on a new look of dismay, “Oh Lordie! The signal!” She was up and running again, back to the skimmer. She dug something out from under the seat and ran uphill to the cleared area. She glanced briefly at the thing in her hand, then twisted it. Mica gasped in amazement. A huge creature came swelling out; a great hissing wobbling blood-red bladder-ball.

  “Kynn! Look out!” He grabbed a length of firewood, snapped it to a point, and ran to her aid with his makeshift spear.

  “No! Don't!” she screamed, pushing his spear away. Next moment the balloon went rushing into the sky, still hissing, wobbling higher and higher, getting smaller. It lit up suddenly in the morning sun.

  “What was that?”

  “No time to tell! Come on, we need to move this!” She was heaving at one of the logs under the big boulder. On her third heave it snapped, startling a flock of parrots from the trees and slamming her to the ground.

  She slumped, sobbing, “No! No no no!”

  Mica tried to hold her and soothe her, but she was unsoothable. Over her head he studied the boulder, trying to think how they would do it in his village. Well they wouldn't bother, of course, they would just leave it there. But if they did, how?

  There were several lines through the rock, finger-wide whitish zones of different rock. He took up the hardest stone he could see and scratched at the biggest line, cleaning it. Quartz. Clean, almost water-clear quartz. Very nice!

  So that was the answer. With some hard, wedge-shaped steel tools ordered in from Upper Cliff Village, the rock could be split along those lines.

  He told her, moved his hands to show his plan.

  She just shouted, “We've only got twenty minutes! Maybe even less!” and went running again, back to the skimmer.

  He had no idea what 'minutes' were.

  SHE HAD TO GET READY! Take out that rock, pack the gear, move the skimmer, get ready! Frantically Kynn dug deeper into the locker. Everything was such a mess.