by CJ Birch
I return with a small bundle, enough to tide us over, but soon we’re going to have to learn to hunt. I’m confident we’ll find a way.
When I return, Ash grabs my arm. I dump our dinner as she leads me to the back of the cave. The only light is a small backup flashlight we found at the bottom of the pack. The cave isn’t very big, or high. By the time we reach the back we’re stooped. The smell of the jungle recedes. Deeper in the cave, it’s musty and smells like an old box.
“Look,” she sweeps the light across the back wall. Painted in dark hues of red, yellow, and brown are bipedal figures in warrior poses. They carry large spears aimed at herds of animals which look much like Earth’s cows. The animals are spotted with large brown noses but with tufts of hair traveling down their backs. But the bipedal figures aren’t the avians we’ve seen. They don’t have wings. Instead they look more like tall, skinny humans.
“What are the chances an earlier species painted these? But eons ago when they were still evolving?” I ask. Excitement bubbles up. This is an incredible find, almost more so than the pyramid, or the avians. Evidence two different species developed cognitive intelligence on this planet is beyond thrilling.
“That’s great and all, but not what I wanted to show you.” Ash lowers the light. There, in a small pile on the ground, is a disintegrated pack with the letters ASA surrounded by a blue circle.
Ash kneels down and picks it up. “It’s an old NASA pack.” Debris falls from the opening, including a few bones. At one point it made a nice home for some small animal. Before that, it was a survival pack for a NASA astronaut—an organization that hasn’t existed for over two hundred years.
She turns it over. On the other side is an unmistakable logo. This pack was from the doomed Frontier IV Mars mission. Which makes the pack exactly two hundred and twenty-five years old. It is, in fact, from the last ever NASA mission.
The space program was canceled after that. Too many missions had failed or turned up too little scientific worth. Humans had hoped to terraform Mars, to colonize it as a secondary Earth, but it became evident that the resources required would be too great. Humans had other worries. If that mission had been a success, things might have been different.
By that time, resources on Earth were becoming more scarce. Our planet could no longer sustain billions of people. When the resource wars started, Earth was already doomed. By the last years of the war, it couldn’t even sustain millions. Thousands fled to the north and south, hoping to escape the extreme weather. But by then, it was too late. The stratospheric ozone layer no longer existed. For the first time ever, the world came together to help rebuild the protective layer, but there was a miscalculation and, instead of saving Earth, it resulted in most of the remaining water being evaporated into space. This last blow was the single defining factor in Earth becoming uninhabitable.
Without water, crops failed. Famines became global, taking children and the elderly. Several years without food decimated the human population. Billions died. In essence, we’d created our own mass extinction. After a century of rebuilding, a little over a million exist.
We only survived because we took extreme measures. The asteroid belt encircling our galaxy was our only option. With over two million asteroids in the belt, most of those over a kilometer wide offered resources. They have land, minerals, and water. The smaller outer ring gives some protection from stray asteroids. And the larger dwarf planets are stable enough for settlements. But it’s a makeshift solution. The Belt isn’t sustainable indefinitely. It isn’t our home.
This pack represents the last of Earth’s optimism. The last of our hope for a bright future.
“But how?” I run my hands along the stippled surface.
Ash opens the bag, but anything that was in there is long gone, dragged out by animals.
“The same way we got here, I’d imagine,” she says.
Whatever brought us here must be a natural phenomenon. Hartley thinks it’s a wormhole. “I wish Hartley was here.” Not something I ever thought I’d say. “He might be able to explain it better.”
“The ship must be close by. Do you think they survived? Or was it brought by animals who used this cave for shelter at some point?”
Two hundred and twenty-five years. Who knows what shape the ship would be in now. If it’s even recognizable. But there’s a chance. If it is still around, it would be better shelter than this cave.
“We should look for it,” I say.
Ash’s face responds for her. She lights up. “Hell yeah, we should. Imagine finding it? One last mystery of Earth solved.”
We make a plan to start out tomorrow morning.
We settle into bitter berries and something hard and nutty. It’s almost inedible. If we’re going to survive here, we’ll need to find better food.
Ash shivers. “I will never complain about mess food ever again. What I wouldn’t give for some tofu loaf right about now.” Her shoulders slump and I know she’s thinking about chocolate pudding.
“Tomorrow we’ll find something more edible. Perhaps we’ll even be able to trap an animal and have some meat.”
With our bellies full and a decent fire going, talk soon turns to what our long-term plans are.
It’s depressing to think we’ll spend most of our time avoiding the avians and scavenging for food. Our skill set is not going to help us. A few days ago, I’d never breathed a natural atmosphere let alone worried about what local fauna could eat me. Humans haven’t had to deal with these problems for thousands of years. Once we established civilizations, we never looked back. Who would want to spend over six hours a day looking for food? There are better things to fill our time with. Each generation saw the creation of jobs that hadn’t existed when they were born. New technologies took over, even if it wasn’t better. It’s hard to topple the notion of progress.
Ash, of course, is excited by all this. The challenge of her against nature is too thrilling to let go. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Ash always comes out on top.
“We’ll need somewhere permanent. We can’t wander around for the rest of our lives.” I poke a fallen log back into the fire. It sends sparks into the air. We don’t need a fire. It’s still humid out, but it’s more to let animals know we’re here, and they shouldn’t mess with us. “Although, we’re not exactly sure what their seasons are like, or if they even have them. Maybe we’ll have a summer home and a winter home.” I look over at Ash who isn’t even listening. She’s mesmerized by the fire, off in her own world.
“How bad could it be though?” she says.
I have a sudden uneasy feeling. She’s got that crazed look she gets when she has an idea she knows I won’t like. Her green eyes are so light, they’re almost hazel. In the firelight they look luminescent. “The seasons? We won’t know until we experience them.”
She waves her hand erratically. “No, the ship. The Mars ship.” That uneasy feeling blooms to a full panic. “How bad could it be? They built those things to withstand anything. It’s possible it could have survived two hundred years.”
“In a humid jungle? Not a chance. Besides, even if it is habitable, we’ll have a lot of work to do on it.”
“I don’t want us to live in it.” And this is when the panic threatens to become an anxiety attack. “No, I want us to fly it.”
Chapter Twenty-six
I wade through the shallow pond toward Ash. She’s lying naked, stretched out on a flat rock, soaking up the late afternoon rays. The surrounding trees cut the sun into shapes, painting her body in light.
We’ve been searching for two days and still haven’t found the ship. It’s either long disintegrated or buried so deep in the jungle, no one will ever find it. Despite Ash’s optimism, I’m still skeptical. It’s not likely it survived in the jungle after two hundred years. No matter what engineering feats it possesses.
“Even if we do manage to find it, how are we going to get it to take off?” I asked after our first day.
It
was almost dusk. The sun was about to dip below the horizon. We’d spent the better part of our day looking for things: food, water, an ancient Earth spacecraft. We were sitting against the hard rock face outside our cave with our boots off.
“First of all, they designed those ships to take off from Mars after five years with little energy input. We can combine solar energy and hydrogen to power take off and the basic systems. And second, this planet has a much lower escape velocity than Mars, so it’ll take a lot less energy to reach orbit.” She’s always so sure of herself. Does she have any doubts at all, or does she honestly believe that we’ll be able to launch an antique into orbit? This is all so unrealistic, I can’t afford to get caught up in her optimism.
“That’s if it doesn’t have a giant hole in the side from crashing on this planet,” I said.
She wasn’t deterred. “How do we know they crashed? What if they landed it? Let’s worry about finding it before we worry if we can fly it.”
“As practical as that sounds, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. There’s a very real possibility that we’ll never find it, and if we do, that it won’t even power up after so long.”
While searching for food that first day Ash found this small pond not far from the cave with fresh water. It’s like our own private pool where we can go at the end of the day and nothing disturbs us.
When I reach the rock, I hoist myself up and lay beside her. It’s smooth, and hot from the sun. Warmth seeps into my back, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Ash’s arm next to mine. It’s like a tiny fire spreading through my whole body. She turns and now the length of her body presses against mine.
“Staying here might have its benefits.” Her voice is low in her throat. The sound vibrates down the side of my arm.
I don’t have much self control left. Since that night in the showers, my imagination has been playing it back in full holo surround. Each time only amplifies the sound and feeling. Sometimes, I change the ending. I don’t run out on her. We go back to my cabin and do all the things I’ve dreamed since she walked into my life.
Her fingers dance along my stomach. She leans down and whispers in my ear, “If there were no rules, what would you do to me right now?”
The sounds of evening surround us. Animals settle into their nests and burrows for the night. The sun hangs low, hovering at the horizon. It casts a fiery light over everything, charging it with energy.
I sit up.
“Ash—”
“Shut up.”
Something unfurls inside me. A deep need I’ve been holding at bay since that night in the showers. Now it’s awake and demanding attention. My mind races through every dirty thought I’ve ever had about Ash. My reason pools somewhere low. Her lips crush into mine. They’re soft and warm, and I part for her.
I put everything into the kiss. All my wants, needs. Every moment of longing flows between us.
When we break, we’re both breathing hard. I coax Ash back on the rock, kissing her neck, her shoulders, following the line of freckles. “Turn over.”
She flips onto her stomach.
I move her damp hair to the side. It looks darker when it’s wet, almost a crimson next to the pale white of her neck. Her muscles jump in rhythm as I kiss my way down her back. I stop for a moment to tease and admire. She turns her head to the side and closes her eyes. Her lips part. The edge of her breasts are visible, pale and supple. I trail my fingertips up her inner thigh, starting at her knee and stopping before I reach the sweet spot. Her hips start to pump, seeking relief, but I place my other hand at the small of her back and push her down.
Her tongue darts out and licks her lips.
I run my fingers through her folds, achingly slow. She’s so wet, I slip inside. She groans from somewhere deep in her throat and I almost speed up just to hear the sound again. Every part of me fills with the need to go fast and, simultaneously, to draw it out as long as possible. She bites her lip and buries her head in her folded arms.
She pushes against my hand, bucking up. I take my fingers out and circle her opening. She gasps. So do I. The sun reaches the horizon and in one last spasm, bursts into a spectacular explosion of warm light. It spreads through the glade, bathing everything in red and orange.
I grip Ash’s hip and sink deep inside again. Her muscles contract, gripping my fingers. She’s on the brink of exploding. She arches up. I pull out and circle her clit. I’m rewarded with that throaty groan, which almost becomes a growl as I thrust back inside.
At that sound, with her grip on my fingers, something deep inside me snaps. I clench and almost join her as she comes. A thin sheen of sweat coats her back. Light plays along her muscles as I draw the moment out.
I lie next to her, panting along with her. The sun dips below the tree line and the pond is slowly cast in a deep purple.
“What is it about water?” I ask.
She sighs.
Above us, the first stars peek through the break in the trees. There’s no comparison to seeing them through ten feet of metallic glass. Even on the Persephone they’re dull compared to this. From this vantage point, they sparkle, almost like they’re dancing with each other in the night sky. It’s breathtaking.
“They say sailors used to navigate by the stars. They’d memorize the constellations and follow their path. It would be scary to navigate with nothing more than your memory to guide you,” I say.
“If I lived during that time, I always pictured myself a pirate.” And she would’ve been too. I can see Ash as a pirate captain on the high seas living only for her next adventure. I picture her standing on the quarter deck, her auburn hair whipping in the sea breeze. “What about you?” she asks.
I sigh, knowing too well what it would’ve been like for someone like me growing up in that era. “Married to a man I can’t stand, pushing out babies.”
“Nah. You’re not the conventional type. You’d have found a way to be in charge. I can see you as a captain for the British Navy, pretending to be a man so you could live free.” She squeezes my hand. “Who do you think would win between us? The Navy captain? Or the debonair pirate?”
I turn to look at her. She’s silhouetted against the night sky, but I can make out the smile on her lips. “You would win. You always come out on top.”
She turns toward me with an eyebrow cocked. “Always, huh?”
The only way to describe the look she’s giving me is lascivious. It’s all want, need, and seduction. My stomach curls in on itself at that look. I’m tempted to give in, but one look at the darkening sky and I think twice about it. I begin to sit up, but she pulls me back down.
“A few more minutes,” she says.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen her this content, I’d give in to almost any request. Under her breath, she’s humming a tune. It’s so soft I can’t make it out.
“Did your mom ever sing to you when you were a kid?”
I shake my head, then realize she can’t see me in the growing darkness. “Not that I can remember.” I don’t think she had much to sing about. “Although my dad used to, when I was very young. I’m not even sure what song it was, I can only remember the melody.” I hum a few bars, but Ash isn’t sure what it is. It’s a strange hidden memory. I’m surprised when it pops into my head. I’d had a nightmare, and my dad was consoling me. He sits on the edge of my bed. The window frames the moon. I know by morning the space station will rotate and the Earth will be visible in that window. Because of the light behind, he’s silhouetted. I don’t remember his face when I was younger. Or maybe it hasn’t changed in all these years, only that stretched scowl, which never appears in my memories.
“My mom used to sing to me. My favorite was ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ I never understood, until now, what it meant to twinkle.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s so much better than I imagined.”
“We should head back. It’s getting dark.”
Ash points to the rock holding our clothes. “It’s okay. I brou
ght a flashlight.”
But I’ve made up my mind even if my body has other opinions. I don’t want to risk getting caught in the middle of the jungle in the dark. We know nothing about this planet. Every time we let our guard down, it surprises us in unpleasant ways.
“The last thing I want to do is wade through this pond in the dark.” What if there are creatures that only come out at night? I shiver at the thought.
With the waning light I can see Ash trying to work out a way to convince me to stay. It wouldn’t take much at this moment, so I take the initiative and slide off the rock. The water’s much cooler now that the sun’s gone down.
Reluctantly, she follows and we make it back to the cave without incident. But when we arrive, we’re introduced to the joys of outdoor living and given a lesson in how much we still have to learn.
The cave is in shambles. The leaves for our makeshift bed mats have been strewn across the cave. They litter the floor with green and brown debris. The food I’d collected earlier is scattered, most of it eaten or taken.
“Well, shit,” says Ash from behind me.
I sigh. On the outside, I keep calm, but inside I’m reeling. The weight of it, being here, crashes down on me. It’s never going to be easy living in this place. Ash is kicking some of the wood back into the fire pit. She’s so despondent. I can’t have that.
“Why don’t you get the fire started while I try to salvage our beds. We may have to dip into rations.”
We work separately until the flames from the fire jump and spark. The light dances up the walls, partnering with the shadows and sashaying across the ceiling. There’s something hypnotizing about fire and it pulls at me. Sitting next to Ash, with her shoulder pressed against mine, there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be. There’s something about her energy. Even sitting still like this, it calms the fire and anger inside me. It’s almost like a counter balance. I can’t explain exactly what it is about her, but I like this version of myself when I’m with her.
