Ten Directions

by Samuel Winburn

  Days later it became clear to August that the monk was a threat, but not in the way he had first thought. The man was a thief. That naïve front was a ruse, which had lulled him into a false sense of security.

  After his initial paranoia had relaxed, August took great comfort in this unexpected friendship. It felt like stepping out of a time machine dialled back twenty years. After his first attempt at reclaiming self-importance had fallen flat, it was a great relief to communicate with another human being as an equal. Kalsang and he shared silence together. There was simply nothing else to do. In that simplicity was much peace of mind. That was before August discovered the little fellow had a hidden food stash.

  August had earlier done the math. They couldn’t announce their arrival at Mars because Gudanko would be controlling those communications. His return to power depended on stealth and there was only so much food. To put himself in charge of the final allocation, to ensure his survival if the existing reserves proved too short for two people, August had carefully hidden away a portion. The rest they carefully rationed between them. It seemed like a perfect plan as the monk was so trusting and apparently had survived on very little on his journey up to this point.

  “What are you doing there?”

  “August-la?”

  “In there. What are you doing?”

  He could see Kalsang was unfamiliar with lying because, despite his words, the truth was written all over his face.

  “Oh, it is very dirty back there. Isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t.

  “Are you eating that?”

  “This?” Kalsang held forth the vitabars concealed in the folds of his robe. “No.” He was bold, August gave him that.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Food stores are there.” Kalsang pointed to the main pantry. “All should be in there, but it is not.”

  And what could August say to that? Admit that he was withholding vital supplies from his companion.

  “Yes. I didn’t realize.”

  “I am taking for later. Same as you, isn’t it?”

  August went back to do a quick count of inventory and checked his watch. More was missing than he had expected, especially given the small numbers of bars the monk had been carrying. Then he remembered how on past days his count had often seem to be off by a few bars that he had put down to bad memory, but it wasn’t. The sneaky bastard had been slowly shifting supplies right under his nose. After helping Kalsang move both secret caches to the pantry, his worst fears were confirmed. The count still short. The monk had been eating his food.

  “Kalsang. Are you sure this is all?”

  The monk shrugged. “Someone must have eaten them.”

  And that was nothing August could object to, after all he himself had been eating extras.

  After that the battle for resources was truly on. Both sharply monitored how much the other ate, drank, and even breathed. Portion size was a daily negotiation.

  “I am heavier than you are, I need more,” August objected.

  They both looked on their neuroviews to check the metabolic requirements for each, each estimating different numbers to the other’s detriment. Surely this scrawny monk didn’t need that much. August went looking and discovered that Kalsang had squirrelled away some of his “eaten” bars.

  “You were peeing too long August-la. Maybe you are drinking more than your share.”

  “Do you have to breathe so heavily when you meditate?”

  “Only when I need to purify extra contamination from you. Besides when you sleep,” Kalsang mimicked August thrashing around gulping like a fish. “and then you rush about wasting so much energy, isn’t it?”

  “This is my ship’s food.”

  “This is my ship’s gravity.”

  It went on and on, their distrust escalating. The damning moment came when August discovered Kalsang sending surreptitious signals through the Com channels.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am trying to contact Mars.”

  “We can’t do that. I told you.” August grabbed Kalsang roughly. Kalsang resisted with surprising strength. They bounced around the cabin in the low gravity, each losing control of their momentum.

  When they finally came to a rest Kalsang panted, “my friends are there.”

  August threw a flashlight at Kalsang, who ducked. “We already went over this. If they find out I am alive we will never make it back to Earth.”

  The monk folded his arms and did that annoying telepathic conversation with his invisible best friend. Then he relaxed into a determined gaze. “Okay.”

  The days passed in a grudging mutual standoff where they both stuck to being fair because neither could get away with anything else. Just to be on the safe side, August downloaded his memory of the monk’s neurovisor security signature into his neurovisor and remote linked both, allowing him to eavesdrop on what the monk was seeing in his neuroview. Calvin30 had shown him how he could accomplish this trick with Mirtopik issued equipment. It had proven handy on several occasions.

  In some time, the rusty sphere of Mars had grown large enough to see major surface features such as the great valleys and volcanoes. They had both sat down to rest after a particularly difficult repair. August noticed Kalsang’s eyes narrowing into space before him, a sign that something was active in his neurovisor. August made an excuse to retire to his ship.

  As soon as he was out of sight August tuned in.

  “Cee zed triple ot forty-seven delta. Cee zed triple ot forty-seven delta. Emergency beacon one one five hundred echo Charlie. Transmission received by Mirtopik Mars One – name change courtesy of the Richy Rich dickheads that bought us out. Repeat transmission received.”

  August clenched his teeth. That treacherous lying snake.

  The woman’s voice continued, “if this is a real emergency you are transmitting on the wrong damn channel and are a biggest pack of wallies this side of Venus because you are on a sequence carrier for deep space communications and this is a dirt track at the end of nowhere, not a relay satellite.” Behind the voice appeared a dusty and greased streaked face of indeterminate gender.

  “If you aren’t dead yet, show yourself because nobody was looking at this bloody thing and wouldn’t be unless they were looking to do maintenance on some dodgy wayward nav sat like I was doing just now.”

  “Hi Terry. So good to hear you too.”

  “Kalsang?”

  “Hi Terry. This is your friend.”

  “For real? Kalsang? You’re shitting me.”

  “Yes Terry.”

  “It is? Nah. Can’t be.”

  “Ta daaaa.”

  “I’m dreamin’ or something. Kalsang. Holy shyte. Kalsang. But. Kalsang? Fucking oath. You’re still alive? It was all over the news that you’d karked it. Jesus what a sad day that was. Christ, I don’t fucking believe it. Kalsang?”

  August heard metal dropping to the ground with a bang. “Ah shit, my foot. Who cares. Kalsang?”

  “Please Terry. Please, please to be quiet. I must be a secret,” responded the monk in hushed tones. “I am so very, very happy to see you too.”

  “Kalsang. It really is you?”

  “Yes Terry. It is just the little cheeky bugger you know well coming back to haunt you again.”

  “Hah. You are that. This is your best one yet – come for my birthday, have you?”

  “Yes, your birthday Terry. You look to be very beautiful this time. So young. Maybe your watch is running backwards,” the monk giggled.

  “Yeah,” the woman was laughing, “You stitched me up there. Stupid taking the bloody thing into space with me and you kept changing the time on me while I slept.”

  “And you,” the monk’s voice was quivering with repressed laughter, “you, you kept yelling at us for being too late. Ha ha.”

  “Yeah ha bloody ha. I had to go all the way to Mars to get away from shit-stirring monks and their piss weak jokes.” There was a pause while the woman blew her nose. />
  “And I had to almost leave the solar system to get away from a foul mouthed, wrathful Aussie. You are such an angry person Terry. Your face goes too red. Tsk tsk.”

  “You didn’t come all this way to wind me up. Christ Kalsang you look like death warmed up for a party. How did you survive?”

  “It was very hard Terry. So, so, so hard.” The monk choked back a sob.

  “Ah shit. Kalsang. Nah don’t do that mate. Shit, I’m going all teary. Yeah.”

  “Yes Terry.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about people hearing. I’m out in my shed. Why don’t you want anyone to hear?”

  August, listening in, leaned forward out of interest. Perhaps the monk would reveal more clues about Gudanko’s schemes.

  “Somebody is wanting to kill me Terry. Shhh, you must promise to me. Don’t tell.”

  “Kalsang, we’re all friends here.”

  “Aurora, Julia?”

  “Ah mate. Bad news. Really awful bad news actually. Julia, she passed some while ago mate. Xiaoli, well.” August could hear the woman choking back tears now. “Xiaoli had an accident. She’s gone too mate.”

  “Oh, so terrible.” They both went quiet for a time.

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings. Rory too. Mate, she’s in a bad way. Going Out. We’ve been doing it rough lately.”

  “Oh, too sad. Too sad. Julia was a very gentle person. Xiaoli, she is so, so bright.”

  “Yes,” sniffed Terry, “yes she was. Hey, I have you going on orbital fly by. You’re just shooting through, are you?”

  “I cannot stay. We.”

  August clenched his teeth, expecting the monk to expose him.

  “Meaning I. I, I must need water, and also food.”

  August considered forgiving Kalsang for this indiscretion. The communication had apparently occurred in confidence and more supplies were critical.

  “Hmmm. Can give you that, but it comes with a passenger.”

  “Aurora?”

  “Yep. Rory needs to get home fast.”

  What? They couldn’t do that? In frustration, August ripped out the hair he had wound round his finger, knocking his neurovisor in the process. The neurolink became distorted and began to drop in and out.

  “Maybe this is a problem Terry, isn’t it? I will help Aurora for sure, necessary, but I am also in trouble.”

  “Look Kalsang, I can’t see the problem. Why can’t we just broadcast your situation back to the authorities? I’m sure they’d sort you out.”

  “Yes, but you, I understand you are now Mirtopik Com.”

  The neurolink began to shrink into tunnel vision as August ran his thoughts over the controls trying to correct it.

  “Didn’t see that one coming. Bought us for a song and dance and a wad of cash, which I s’pose everyone needs. Some of those Com arse-wipes have it in for you?”

  “You cannot direct broadcast to Earth Terry.”

  “Ah, too right mate. In olden days with radio fine, no worries, but it’s all laser now. They’d control that.”

  “Yes. Isn’t it?”

  “We’re looking at putting Rory in hibernation and launching her into the flyby path of the next shuttle come ‘round. She’d be drifting for months. The gods must be with us thank Christ. You couldn’t have come at a better time. This way you’ll get her home before they sling past. No one should be the wiser. I’ll have to drop in extra emergency rations, which will have to slip past the hard-nosed bitch running things down here. I can, nah, yeah. Yeah, should be right.”

  August was furious. He had to stop himself from marching in on Kalsang and confronting him. Now he not only had to manage the monk, but also to play nursemaid to that same deranged woman who had only made his life difficult. How was he going to manage this? His hand, in an involuntary reflex reaching for his hair, upset his neurovisor again.

  “So, who’s trying to kill you mate?” Terry whispered.

  August strained forward to hear the answer as the neurolink crackled and went dead.

  It took some days for the monk to front up to him about the new passenger. August knew that Kalsang would eventually have to, and he enjoyed the brief sense of power that came with toying with him, eliciting small lies around the edges of the truth, making him break his vows, if the little liar even worried about them anymore.

  To his disappointment this game didn’t last long. Kalsang unapologetically blurted it out while they were working on sealing a breech in his Terrapod. Then the shoe was on the other foot as August had to put on his own show of mock horror and disgust. Kalsang merely waited him out, and then there was nothing more to say and they finished the job.

  Still, August’s feigned anger seeded the real thing, and over the following weeks he fell into a foul mood that nothing would dislodge. Even though the trade was a good one, a guarantee of life in exchange for a lifeboat, August was not looking forward to serving as a nursemaid to that woman who was trouble at the best of times when she wasn’t Out. If Kalsang wanted to keep his little friend, then he could look after her. August had more pressing things to worry about, like the details of reclaiming his empire.

  He imagined that she would smell, as if they would be transporting a corpse, if only bringing with her the staleness of sickness. Anyway, he was still healing himself from admittedly the same kind of madness. He didn’t have the energy to support anyone else.

  The bottom line was she was uninvited, or at least her presence was not cleared by him. And which ship was more well suited for her to stay in? Not the monk’s tight quarters. In fact, the little man had taken to sleeping in the Icarus already. How would it hold three?

  When the hour came, and the small coffin capsule dropped into the Icarus freight airlock, August was not pleased. The capsule was heavy and cumbersome as he and Kalsang struggled to heave it out of the lock. He strained his back. And then opening the box was complicated. A latch snapped back on his fingers, causing blood to pool under his nail, a wound that was not going to heal quickly.

  Both he and Kalsang labored to pull open a sliding panel, which should have opened automatically. They unwrapped a cold buckygel stocking sitting inside the box. And there she was. The woman was enveloped in a web of wires sewn into and out of micropores all over her body. She jerked as August administered the adrenaline shot, and then they could see her softly begin to breathe.

  Kalsang wandered off and August sat with Aurora as she lay sleeping. He turned over memories of the only time they had met. She had seemed much younger then, prettier. With nothing more to do he studied her mneme logs. Her story was incredible, and he admired her insane tenacity, a trait he could identify with. Something in her face, lying there, seemed pure and unfettered. Unlike him.

  “Who do you love August?”

  He had always seen Illya’s question as a condemnation, a curse aimed at a man who was too cold for love. Now he saw the pity in it.

  At that moment, a seed of an answer to Illya’s question was planted in him. The seed’s future was precarious, for it had landed in the sterile soil of the heart of a man with an enormous ego. Despite the odds, it might slowly take root, allowing August to fall in love. He didn’t notice that it had happened. How could he notice it when he had never fallen in love before? He had played at love, believed himself a lover, stolen love from others, consumed women. However he had never fallen in love. And he would not realise that he had until, days and weeks and months later, when he understood that his thoughts had rarely been far from this person. From Aurora.

  Chapter 32 - Aurora

  Denali crouched on a sand dune and howled as the strange round clouds slowly lifted the Beloved away into the sky.

  He had smelled the Beloved being carried off, through half closed sleepy eyes he saw Her being lifted in. His ears pricked up. Although he had scratched on the hatch they had ignored him. The smell was bad. Something was very wrong - with Her - with the Beloved. She was hurt. When They left She was not among Them.

  Now the
Beloved must be going up too, following the strange clouds. Away from him. So far away.

  Denali whimpered his confusion and dismay.

  The strange clouds shrunk until all four became one and then, after a burst of light, became nothing.

  Denali dashed around a field of rocks hunting made-up prey. He had never seen prey, but he knew what it was. He pounced and dashed and chewed on his paws. He put his mark on rocks, so She could find her way back. To Him. The Beloved. He sat in Her sled and waited and slept and waited very long and slept.

  Grease Smell Friend looked through the hole in the hatch and opened it and called for him. Denali half wagged his tail, whimpering.

  “Hey cobber. You lonely too?” Grease Smell Friend wrapped her long soft padded arms around his shivering body and groomed him and scratched his stomach as he rolled over.

  “This place is really starting to suck.”

  Denali grunted and stretched to expose a larger area of his stomach.

  “Come with me mate. It’s cold out here.”

  Denali stretched and got up. As they walked across the dirt he looked backwards towards the place in the sky where the strange clouds and the Beloved had disappeared. Then he followed Grease Smell Friend inside.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  There was no meaning anymore. The forces buffeting Aurora’s body mixed with the random sensations and memories rearranging in her mind like pieces of shattered colored glass rolling in a kaleidoscope. Blinking moments of flame and orange ground falling away flickered quickly behind the horizon of her attention. The sudden silence replacing the after-burn blended with the remembered silence of the vast red plains. Waijungari reached out for her, grasping for what had been denied him, keeping parts of her while the rest of her plunged noiselessly out into darkness. Flashes of adulthood, childhood, dream, hallucinations of strange creatures with many heads, the roar of rushing ocean - all came jumbled in no particular order.

  Her disembodied perspective, floating in a chaos of water, watched fragments of experience spinning past with random debris. She saw them carry the empty husk of a body, distantly recognised as her own, out of the dry dust, down fantastic walls of stone, into and out of hatches, airlocks, doors, plastic membranes. Soft hands plying her rigid muscles and the tender sensation of a polymer tongue licking her cheeks - moments of human and robotic tenderness that temporarily pulled everything back together again. The irregular pulse of her madness. A pulse. It was all that remained of her, this kindness of others was all that remained. A pulse. Punctuating the endless emptiness of being into which she was dropping. A pulse. Fading gradually, returning unexpectedly, by turns more tentative, becoming softer. A pulse.