Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  I didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind me, and before I had time to whirl around, hands had gripped my shoulders. I struggled, but the sound of the familiar voice stopped me.

  “Andi, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor. Elasson was showing me something. Crash was with me, but…”

  He glanced around. “Where did he go? And what does he think he’s doing, wandering off?”

  I explained the whole story to him—how I’d been talking to Crash and Elasson had led us down into the tunnels and showed us the scroll. He was very interested to hear about that, and rather frustrated with Crash, both for leaving me and for going away without the Captain’s permission. “That boy is going to get either himself or somebody else killed one of these days,” he muttered, and then nodded thanks to Elasson. “We appreciate you showing it to us.”

  Elasson inclined his head slightly, and then said, “Nyn me dei apienai, eita d’ epanerchomai.” Then he hurried off into the throne room.

  “I have a feeling it’s not something Basilius would have wanted him to show us,” I observed, watching his retreating form.

  “So do I. Well if my demon of a nephew ever gets back with that scannery deal, maybe I’ll just have to go down and take a look myself. It’s not hard to use, is it? Because you know I’m no technician.”

  “Yes, I certainly know that.” I rubbed his arm and smiled. “It’s easy, you just have to move the end over the text one line at a time and tell it what language it is. Then you can plug it into a pad and get the English translation.”

  He looked a little dubious, but before either of us could say anything, a piercing whistle made us look up. A few meters away, Perekhon was blowing on the reed we’d seen the day before. Almost simultaneously, people began flowing from the tents, ready to start another long day of work.

  The doctor looked at me and jerked his head in the direction of our tent. “Come on.”

  He grasped my hand in his and began weaving through the crowd to get back to the tent.

  “Well where have you been, Andi?” were the Captain’s first words once we were inside. “And where is Mr. Crash?”

  “It’s a long story,” I sighed.

  “He’ll be back,” the Doctor answered. “Are you and Whales going out to the shuttle to work on whatever it is that’s going to get us out of here?”

  “I’m going out. I don’t think I’ll need Whales’ help. Lieutenant Howitz and Mr. Ralston should be able to handle it.”

  “I want to examine a few more things before we leave,” Whales explained. “Just a few little things.”

  “I want a thorough report to take back to Oscar,” the Captain smiled.

  The doctor spoke up. “What would you say if I told you that I have proof these people aren’t originally from here?”

  I looked up at him in surprise. The Captain pursed his lips. “What are you talking about, Gerry?”

  The Doctor’s face was almost quite serious, but a careful observer would have seen that one corner of his mouth was turned up ever so slightly. “Elasson led Andi and Crash down into a tunnel of some kind. He showed them a scroll.”

  “That’s interesting, but—”

  “I wasn’t finished. Andi says that the script was made of parchment. Surely you see the implications, Trent.”

  I didn’t for a second, but the Captain did. He seemed to be speechless for a few seconds, and in those seconds, I realized it too. Parchment was made of animal skin.

  “It can’t have come from here,” Whales observed with interest.

  We waited expectantly for the Captain’s answer. “Gerry, I would hardly call that proof. You didn’t even see it, how do you know it’s parchment?”

  “You doubt Andi’s word?”

  The Captain shook his head determinedly. “I’m asking how she’s supposed to know parchment when she sees it.”

  “When Crash gets back with the language scanner, I’m going down to translate it, and that will tell us something.”

  “After I’m finished with my analyses, maybe I’ll go down and take a look at it myself,” Whales suggested. “I could tell you for sure what it is.”

  “I’d be very interested to know,” the Captain said, rising and scooping his cap off the ground.

  “Would you, Trent?” The Doctor asked in a challenging tone, a half smile showing on his face.

  Ignoring him, the Captain settled his cap firmly on his head and headed for the tent opening. “I’ll be back. You all just try to stay out of trouble.”

  “We’ll try,” I called after him.

  “Breakfast,” the Doctor said, looking firmly at me. “If it weren’t for me you’d never think of eating.”

  “I’m out of food.” Opening my pack I displayed it for him.

  “I’m not.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a package labeled appealingly, “shrimp soup.” I wrinkled my nose. “I hate shrimp.”

  “Would you rather have leaves and sticks?” he asked.

  I opened the package.

  “I’m going too,” Whales announced, putting a final instrument into his pack and taking his log in hand. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  The Doctor nodded. “Stay hydrated.”

  Nodding, Whales left the tent and the Doctor and I were alone. This state of things didn’t last long, however, as Crash came hurrying in a moment later, sweat speckling his face, but bearing a look of satisfaction. “Got it,” he said, waving a metallic stick. “Good morning, Uncle.”

  “Good morning, Nephew. What do you think you’re—”

  “Not now, Uncle, not on an empty stomach. Here.” He tossed the scanner to me and sat down. Grabbing up a broad piece of wood that lay in one corner, he began fanning himself.

  “You’re in a better mood than you were last night,” I smiled.

  “Probably because I haven’t let myself worry about the stupid problem of who these people are.”

  “It’s not a stupid problem, Crash.” The Doctor stood up and brushed his hands on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. “The whole reason behind our existence—”

  “I said I don’t want to think about it.”

  The Doctor took a quick step forward. “Don’t interrupt me.”

  Crash shrugged and went back to fanning.

  The Doctor stood there for what seemed like a full minute, and then turned away. “Come on, Andi. We’re going to translate that scroll.”

  I got up and handed him the scanner. “I think we’d better find Elasson.” I picked up the history book and tucked it into the Doctor’s shoulder bag, which I threw over my shoulder. “See if he can take us down there.”

  “Alright.” Turning to Crash, he pointed a stern finger at him. “You stay here. Don’t be wandering off without letting somebody know where you’re going.”

  “Okay.” The listless fanning went on.

  Finding Elasson wasn’t as easy as it had sounded. At last we spotted him helping a couple of other young men erect a tent near one wall. We stood nearby, waiting for them to finish, but Elasson saw us and said a few words to his companions before hurrying over to us. He looked from one of us to the other with curiosity.

  I laid my hand on the bag, debating whether or not to bring out the book, but the Doctor’s fingers clasped around my arm. “No. Not with all these other people around.”

  Dropping to my knees in the sand, I again began to draw. It was fairly easy to communicate what we wanted. I drew first a round object with a stick-figure kneeling awkwardly by it, and then I moved my finger up from the circle in an attempt to show that it was opening. Then two more stick-figures walked over to the circle.

  At this point, Elasson quickly slapped his palm in the sand and vigorously rubbed out the picture. He looked at us with lips drawn into a thin line and shook his head.

  XIX

  I stood up. “He doesn’t want us to go. I don’t think we’re allowed to be down there, and if anyone s
aw him, it would probably get us both in trouble.”

  The Doctor set his jaw. “We have to get down there. Tell him we have to. I want that thing translated before Trent’s ready to take off.”

  I pulled on Elasson’s arm in an attempt to communicate to him the importance of the situation, and looked him in the eye. “Elasson, please…”

  He bit his lip and looked around. “Elthete met’ emou,” he whispered at last.

  We followed him through the tents and the rushing people, watching his coarse-clothed form weave through the crowd deftly and unobtrusively. In the past couple of days the people had gradually stopped staring at us, and now only cast a tired glance at us as we walked by. What did we matter to them?

  We had moved away from the hustle now, and I recognized the corner where the door was. Elasson looked nervously around, his eyes darting in every direction before he knelt again in the soft sand.

  The Doctor and I stood between him and the workers, in hopes of shielding him from their eyes. It only took him a moment to get the door open, and then he slipped into the hole, lifting the torch on his way down.

  The Doctor stepped back. I knew he didn’t like ladders. They made him nervous. But after running his fingers through his hair a couple of times he plunged forward and began to descend. After he had gone a few steps down I looked around once more and lowered myself into the hole. I reached up and knocked the door closed as soon as my head was below the rim, and we were left in darkness.

  The Doctor gave a cry of protest. “Why did you do that?”

  “If it just stands there open, everybody will know that somebody’s down here. I’m just trying to be safe.”

  “Don’t come down too fast,” he grunted. “My fingers are right below you.”

  Before we had climbed down too many more steps, we heard a striking of rock against rock, and a small flame lit up the hole. I could see the rungs now, and climbed down a bit more confidently.

  At last we reached the bottom, and the Doctor looked around with a frown. “You say there are tombs down here?”

  “I think so. A lot of them—but not enough for everyone that must have died here. Crash thought it was probably just the royal family.”

  He nodded, and Elasson began moving on down the passage with us behind him.

  The walk didn’t seem as long this time, perhaps because I knew now what to expect; or maybe because I had the Doctor with me this time. Regardless, we reached the little scroll-chamber in what seemed like less than five minutes.

  After handing the light to the Doctor, Elasson opened the chest and delicately pulled out the scroll with both hands. He held it out towards me, but when I reached out to take it, he didn’t let go for a moment. I held onto it gently until he finally unclasped his hand and let me take it, worry in his eyes. He took the torch in his hand and stood watching.

  Kneeling, I rolled it out on the floor. It wasn’t as long as Crash had surmised; coming just short of four meters. Extending from the wall of the little chamber, it reached the outer tunnel behind us before revealing bare wood, every centimeter covered in strange writing.

  The Doctor had taken the scanner out of his pocket and was fiddling with it. “How do you turn it on?” he asked, holding it out to me. I took it and slid the tiny slider on one side. I had only used one of these a few times, but I remembered how. It was like a large pen, and moving it slowly over clearly-written text allowed it to “read,” and from there, to translate or simply transcribe.

  “Do you want me to do it?”

  He shook his head and took the scanner back. “I’ll do it. Are you sure it will hold all of this?” Gesturing towards the long trail of parchment, he looked skeptically at the little instrument.

  “I’ll make sure it’s empty.” Taking it back, I found that its memory card had been wiped. “Yes. It should be able to hold twice as much as this.”

  “Alrighty.” Without another word, he sat down and began pressing the device against the words, moving it slowly across the first line of writing. I settled down against one wall to watch, but Elasson clutched my shoulder in alarm.

  “Houtos de ti poiei?” he asked, pointing to where the Doctor was working.

  Digging out the history book, I turned on the dictionary and asked him to repeat himself, which he did. “What is he doing?” the dictionary showed, and I typed out my answer. “He won’t hurt it. The device will help him put it in our language, so we can understand it.”

  He nodded, but kept one eye on the Doctor’s hand, which moved the gray stick monotonously over each word.

  “Have you read it?” I typed, letting the dictionary speak it in his language. He looked confused for a moment, and I tried saying it a different way. “Do you know what it says?”

  His answer was translated as, “No. We have forgotten how to understand these drawings.”

  This explained the change from inscriptions to pictures on the “tombstones.” With the constant work, it stood to reason that they would have no time to read—there was nothing to read except the scroll anyway. They had neither paper nor time and inclination to write.

  “Why is it special to you?” I asked, pointing to the scroll.

  “Our ancestors brought it when they began new world.”

  New world? What exactly did he mean by that? “New world?” I typed out, and the dictionary asked, “Kainos oikoumene?”

  He shook his head and said the words, “Kainus Ge.” Again, this was translated as “new world.” It must be two different words for “world.” That was the name of this place then—Kainus Ge. New World.

  We were silent for a while as we watched the Doctor’s hand move the scanner over the parchment. Perspiration began to form in beads on his face, and he lifted one sleeve to wipe it. It was tedious work, I knew, but it would be worth it to know what the scroll said. If, as the Doctor had hinted, these people somehow came from earth, and if they had brought the scroll with them, as Elasson claimed, it might explain a lot of things.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to take a turn?” I offered.

  He barely shook his head, not raising his eyes from his work. “Go get me something to eat. I don’t care if it’s cracker-bread and cactus goo, I’m hungry. And I need water. I’m sweating too much.”

  “Here’s some salt.” I held out a couple of chunks from his bag, which I still had over my shoulder.

  He took it in his free hand. “Give some to him too. You have a light?”

  I dug into the bag for a couple more pieces to give to Elasson. “I’ll just use the history book. It has a pretty good light. That way you can keep the torch.”

  “Okay.”

  I pressed the salt into Elasson’s hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Walking over to the Doctor, I kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll try to find you something better than cactus goo.”

  His only answer was a grunt, and I turned on the book’s backlight and started down the tunnel. “Be right back.”

  I trotted down the long passage, not worried or nervous anymore. It was just a tunnel, nothing to be scared of. The dictionary lit up the place fairly well—at least I could see about a meter in front of me, which was enough.

  When I reached the ladder, I turned off the book and shoved it back in the bag. I should be able to feel my way up the ladder, and anyway, there was enough light coming from the outline of the trapdoor to reveal where the rungs were.

  At last I reached the top, and I cracked the door open. I could see people above, working a few meters away; none of them looking in my direction. With a rapid motion, I pushed my way out and onto the ground above, kicking the door closed behind me.

  On my knees in the hot sand, I looked around to see if anyone had been watching. No one seemed to be aware of me or my actions.

  Standing, I brushed the sand from my knees and headed for our tent to find Crash.

  He was there, fiddling with his blaster. When he saw me, he sat up straighter. “Where’s Uncle?”

  �
�He asked me to get something for him to eat.” Flinging the bag off, I looked around for the nearest pack. “He’s working on the translation.”

  Crash nodded, and settled down again. “It’s going okay then?”

  “Yes.” I dug through the pack looking for something that would retain solidity after it was hydrated. There was one labeled “ham sandwich” which sounded good enough, but then again, freeze-dried never tasted quite as good as the pictures looked. Still, it was better than “leaves and sticks,” and I put it in the little bag that now lay on the floor beside me. “Have you heard from the Captain or Whales?”

  “I haven’t heard from Whales—for a very good reason. The Captain took his communicator, remember?”

  I had forgotten all about how the natives had confiscated the Captain’s communicator the first day.

  “Oh, right. What about the Captain?”

  “He just called—said that he thought they might be just about finished. They were going to test it and see if they could generate—”

  Suddenly I heard a loud, deep rumble. I thought for a minute that it was another sandstorm, when the ground slipped from beneath my feet. I found myself flying through the air, then I slammed face down onto the sandy ground.

  XX

  I flopped up and down helplessly as the ground shook beneath me, tossing sand into my eyes, my mouth and my clothes. I heard a loud crash from far ahead of me, and then part of the tent collapsed half a meter away. Another more muffled crash sounded from behind me, and the ground gave one final shudder, then all was silent and still.

  The silence lasted approximately two seconds.

  An uproar arose from around us. Afraid to move, I turned my head slightly to the right and saw Crash lying on his stomach, gasping. He lay there for a moment and then groaned and crawled over to me. “Are you alright?”

  I nodded, but before I could speak, I heard the voice of Basilius crying out outside the tent. Crash’s eyes met mine, and we both scrambled to our feet. Checking his belt for his blaster, Crash clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Do you know what that was?”