by Maggie Allen
Unfortunately, the mounds of dust didn’t reach nearly high enough for them to be able to climb out.
They stared up at the opening. The distant roar of the wind and the dust still sifting down through the air told them the storm continued to rage on the planet’s surface, even though the cavern lay quiet and still. Shallie wasn’t sure how far she’d run before she fell into the pit. Would their parents be able to find any trace of their footprints? Or even tell which way they’d gone? How bad would the storm become? It had descended so fast and fiercely—she imagined their tents being torn to shreds. She pulled her mind quickly away from that thought.
Tlik’chik tapped her on the arm, and when Shallie turned to her, the alien girl motioned a thin limb around them. She said something Shallie didn’t understand, but she thought she knew what the girl was saying. They should look around the cavern, see if there was another way out, or anything to help them. Shallie nodded and pointed to the left.
“I’ll look over here.”
Tlik’chik nodded and pointed to the right. They moved in opposite directions, stepping carefully in the faint illumination from above.
It didn’t take long. The cavern was probably thirty feet long and a bit wider, starting from the end where they’d fallen in. A few fist-sized rocks were scattered randomly on the floor, along with a rare dead tree branch or two and a few odd tangles of twigs that reminded Shallie of tumbleweeds. She and Tlik’chik met at the far end of the cavern, where a narrow opening in the stone suggested a dark passageway beyond. The girls looked at it together. It wasn’t wide enough for either girl to fit through. Without speaking, both turned and walked back to the slightly brighter end of the cavern. They didn’t need words to understand there was no way out.
Shallie sat on the floor with her back against a wall of cool stone. Tlik’chik joined her. Shallie passed the envelope to the alien girl. “This was for you, anyway,” she said. “You might as well have it.”
Although it was obviously a struggle, Tlik’chik forced a smile as she accepted the envelope. Then she dug into a pocket in her tunic and pulled out a long, narrow box. She handed it to Shallie, gesturing for her to open it. Inside lay what looked like a handful of chopsticks tied into a bundle with a silky red cord.
“Itri,” Tlik’chik said. “Wol-ken. Shallie.”
Shallie accepted the sticks and examined them. Although they were polished smooth like chopsticks, they varied in lengths and had different colors painted on each end. They were very pretty, but she had no idea what they were for. She smiled at Tlik’chik anyway. “Thank you! I love them.”
Tlik’chik set her envelope down on the dusty floor of the cavern and motioned for Shallie to put the sticks down on it. When Shallie did, the alien girl untied the cord and proceeded to lay out the sticks in a complicated pattern, chattering to herself a little as she did so. Shallie didn’t understand a word, but she concentrated on the lilting sound of the girl’s voice anyway. It was better than worrying about the howl of the wind far above them outside.
Although she knew the alien girl couldn’t understand the instructions for playing itri-sticks, Tlik’chik kept talking to distract herself from their predicament. And once the sticks were laid out, it wasn’t too difficult to explain the game through gestures and examples. Shallie seemed to catch on quickly, apparently intrigued by the intricacies of color-matching and strategic placement that made itri-sticks both complex and fun.
As they played, they taught each other the names of the colors. Do-ta was red, chok was yellow, bek-ta was blue. Tlik’chik knew there was no way she would remember all the alien words, but she was determined to learn them at least as well as the other girl learned the names unfamiliar to her. Tlik’chik won the first three games, but clapped her hands in surprise and delight when Shallie won the fourth.
Shallie smiled and gathered the sticks together, binding them carefully with the cord. “Thang-gue,” she said, but Tlik’chik didn’t know the word. Hoping it would be all right, she smiled back and nodded. She picked up the packet Shallie had given her earlier and looked at the alien girl with a question. Perhaps she’d show Tlik’chik what was inside now. As Shallie nodded and took back the packet, Tlik’chik couldn’t stop herself from glancing up toward the opening high above them. Dust still drifted in, dancing and whirling madly as it rode the air currents down into the cavern that had become their prison.
Shallie showed the alien girl the opening in one end of the envelope and Tlik’chik slid the papers out. Even in the dim light, bright colors lit up the pages. Tlik’chik’s smile spread as she examined Shallie’s drawings.
“Here’s a dog,” Shallie said, pointing. “We keep them as pets, sometimes. Cats, too, like this one. Cat,” she said, tapping the picture.
“Cat,” Tlik’chik repeated.
“House,” Shallie went on. “It’s where we live. We go inside,” she told the alien girl, pointing to some people she’d drawn and walking her fingers over to the house.
“Inside!” Tlik’chik agreed with obvious delight.
Shallie handed her one of the drawing sticks she’d included in the envelope. “You draw one,” she urged.
Tlik’chik frowned, then took the drawing stick and turned one of the sheets of paper to the blank back. With quick, sure strokes, she sketched an odd-looking tree with a round sort of hut nestled in its branches. On the ground she drew what might have been herself. She tapped the figure and then the hut. “Inside! Tou’lach.”
“Tou’lach,” Shallie said, wondering if it was the word for “inside” or “house.” Mentally she shook her head. It didn’t matter. As long as she and Tlik’chik could distract themselves with the pictures, the way they’d done with the stick game, at least they weren’t panicking.
But she couldn’t help thinking the bellow of the wind above their heads sounded even louder. She strained to hear her parents’ voices calling for her, but they just weren’t there.
They went back to the pictures. “Present,” Shallie said, tapping a wrapped gift she’d drawn with a birthday cake. She tapped the envelope and the papers, and then Tlik’chik’s arm. “Present. For Tlik’chik.”
The alien girl’s face lit up. “Present,” she repeated. “Wol-ken. For Shallie!” She pointed to the sticks they’d played with, and then tapped Shallie’s arm. They really did seem to be making progress.
Shallie smiled back at her, but as Tlik’chik bent over the next page, she saw the alien girl dart a quick, concerned look up. Listening for her own parents’ calls, Shallie wondered? Far overhead, the wind continued to howl like an angry beast.
Tlik’chik was worried. Even though she was enjoying this little game of language with Shallie, the sounds of the storm far above them continued to rage. The scouring wind would have erased their tracks almost instantly, and the swirling dust would make it impossible to see. Had anyone even noticed which way they’d gone?
By the time they’d looked at all the pictures and Tlik’chik had drawn more for Shallie, they’d both learned a few new words. But what would they do next? Go back to itri-sticks? Tlik’chik felt her stomach grumble, and she remembered the foodpod in her pocket, left over from breakfast. Glad of the distraction, she pulled it out and opened it, then offered it to Shallie.
The alien girl looked uncertain. Tlik’chik squirted some of the smooth paste into her own mouth, then held it out to Shallie again. Hesitantly, Shallie took it and dabbed a tiny amount onto one finger, then tasted it. Her eyes watered and she blinked, passing the foodpod back to Tlik’chik. Shallie smiled slightly and held up three fingers, shaking them no.
Despite her hunger, Tlik’chik slipped the foodpod back into her pocket. If Shallie couldn’t eat, she didn’t want to, either. At least not yet. But now she felt the chill that had descended on the cavern without her noticing, and she realized food was not the most urgent of their problems. Beside her, Shallie shivered. And the light from above had dimmed even further. It was almost gone. Tlik’chik imagined the planet�
��s short day drawing to a close, the bright orange sun fading. The cavern would soon be dark, and cold. Maybe very cold. They needed to think about the coming night.
Taking up one of the drawing sticks, Tlik’chik sketched a fire on the back of one of the pages. Surely Shallie would recognize it?
Shallie nodded at the drawing and glanced around the cavern. She crawled forward from where they’d been sitting, and came back with one of the dead tree parts littering the floor. Tlik’chik nodded, and together they scoured the cavern for things that might burn. This time they didn’t separate but by unspoken agreement stayed close to one another.
The pile they assembled was woefully small. Tlik’chik squeezed one of the branches between her fingers and thought it felt damp. Would it even burn? And if it did, what they’d gathered would be consumed quickly. It might provide a bit of heat and light, but not much.
Shallie must have been thinking the same thing. Above the pile, she held two stones she’d picked up and struck them quickly together. No spark. Tlik’chik could barely make out the alien girl’s face in the smudge of light left to them. She looked grim but determined.
The next attempt brought a spark, but the twigs didn’t ignite. A second spark landed on the twigs and a tendril of smoke wisped up for an instant, but disappeared as the spark went out.
Tlik’chik looked around again, although they’d been over every bit of the cavern. Then she saw the envelope. It, and the papers inside it, would burn—but how could she suggest sacrificing the other girl’s gift? If Shallie was angry at the idea, it could cause a rift between their people before they’d even started to get to know each other.
Of course, it would only become a problem if they were ever found.
Shallie blinked back tears of frustration. They needed to get this fire going, to give them some warmth and light. She was almost afraid to hope, but it sounded like the storm on the planet’s surface might be quieting down. Maybe their parents and the others would be able to begin searching for them, even though she knew the day must be almost over.
She saw Tlik’chik’s eyes land on the envelope of papers and knew immediately what the other girl must be thinking. They would burn. But could she suggest burning them? Shallie caught her eyes and nodded. “It’s okay,” she said, holding up a finger and flicking it the way Tlik’chik had done to mean yes. “I’ll draw you some more.”
Kneeling, Tlik’chik slowly pulled the drawings from the envelope and crumpled them up almost reverently, as if performing a ritual. She placed the crumpled balls of paper under and around the twigs. It still looked like it would make only a brief, sad, fire.
The itri sticks bumped in Shallie’s pocket as she leaned forward to strike the rocks again. Wood. They were wood, too! Shallie’s hand moved toward her pocket but stopped. They were so beautiful, and such an elegant gift! Could she possibly suggest burning them?
But Tlik’chik seemed to have realized Shallie’s thoughts, as well. She nodded. “O-kay,” she said carefully, and pointed to the pile of paper and twigs. “Okay, Shallie.”
Shallie passed Tlik’chik the itri-sticks, and again, with careful precision, the alien girl added the sticks to the pile. She met Shallie’s eyes and nodded. Shallie struck the rocks together. Nothing. Again. Spark. Again. Spark.
Tlik’chik leaned over and gently blew on the sparks. One went out, but one flared and caught the paper it had landed on. The edges curled and blackened as a growing flame licked across Tlik’chik’s picture of a fire. Smoke curled up from the end of an itri-stick as flames flickered around it.
Shallie set down the rocks she’d used to make the sparks, and scooted around the fire, close to Tlik’chik. As more and more of their tinder caught and smoke rose toward the hole far above them, Shallie felt the alien girl put an arm around her shoulders.
“Okay,” Tlik’chik said.
Shallie nodded as the fire pushed back the cavern’s chill.
“Okay,” she agreed. “We’ll be okay.”
She hoped they were right.
Tlik’chik dreamed she heard her father calling her name. He seemed to be far away, and as so often happens in dreams, she couldn’t open her mouth to answer him. Other voices joined her father’s, some strange and speaking a language she didn’t understand. But she did recognize one word. Shallie.
She jolted awake just as Shallie did the same. They’d fallen asleep with their backs against the cavern wall, arms around each other to preserve the warmth their fire had lent them. It had burned down to embers now, but tendrils of smoke still wafted up toward the sky, escaping into the sunlight. The cavern had lightened again, and the dust had stopped falling; the opening high above them was a bright hole in the darkness. The roar of the storm was gone. There were only the voices.
Beside her, Shallie jumped to her feet, shouting up to the hole. Tlik’chik joined her.
“Here! We’re down here!” she called. Tlik’chik knew Shallie was yelling the same thing in her own language.
Shadows appeared at the opening.
“Tlik’chik! Are you all right?”
“Yes! We’re fine!”
“Shallie!”
“We’re here!”
“We’re lowering a rope for you!”
A rope snaked down from above. Shallie turned to Tlik’chik with bright eyes. “Okay!” she said, pointing to the smoke rising from the embers. “We did it!”
Tlik’chik nodded. The searchers must have seen the smoke rising from the hole and knew where to find them, even though the massive storm would have erased all traces of their footprints. She saw Shallie glance down at the remains of the fire, and their gifts to each other. She looked up and caught Tlik’chik’s eye, smiling sadly.
“Itri-sticks,” she said. “I liked.”
Tlik’chik nodded. “Draw-ings,” she said. “Shallie make more?”
Shallie agreed with a smile and threw her arms around Tlik’chik in a tight hug. Tlik’chik hugged her back and smiled. The real gift was still right there.
View from Above
Jeanne Kramer-Smyth
Jeanne Kramer-Smyth has been writing since she first got her hands on a typewriter at age nine. Since then she has worked as a software developer, traveled the world, and written poetry. She is currently an archivist by day and a writer, glass artist and fan of board games by night. She has studied fiction writing with both Judith Tarr and Mary Robinette Kowal. She especially enjoys fantasy, science fiction, YA, and historical fiction. She lives in Maryland with her husband, son, sister-in-law, and cat. You can find her online at www.jeannekramersmyth.com
Kendree completed the final checklist and pushed the ignition button. It always unnerved her that there was no sound to confirm that the engines were cycled up. The lights on the control panel paraded past agreeably, just as they had every time her father had taken her out for practice. Mother said she was too young. Father said anyone who lived on a spaceship needed to know how to fly a shuttle. In case of an emergency.
This was an emergency.
The spacesuit crinkled as she swiveled to the launch panel on her right, taking deep breaths of the fake lemon scented air from the refresher. Bracing herself for the alarm that she was 90% sure she had disabled, Kendree flipped the launch trigger. The shuttle lifted gently from the docking bay floor. No bells clanged. The lights outside the cockpit didn’t suddenly flash red and orange. The bay door slid smoothly open, revealing a wide swath of dark space and stars and the edge of the planet below.
Kendree checked the coordinates one more time, then initiated the autopilot. Her heart raced and she held her breath until the small shuttle was clear of the doors and had turned toward the planet. The navigation display projected a total travel time of 18 minutes.
She switched the side screen to replay the last few minutes of her friend’s video message. Elissa’s eyes were puffy and red, but she wasn’t crying. Her voice shook a little as she explained that her parents were evacuating her and her sisters. They were being s
ent to hide out on their family property a few hours away from the city and the battlefields that had formed around it. Elissa looked over her shoulder at some noise outside her door before turning back to say “Sorry, I have to go. I’ll try to send another message soon, but the country house doesn’t have an uplink to the satellite. I’ll miss talking to you.” She ended the transmission before Kendree had even been able to tell her to be safe.
Kendree had been nervous about the war brewing on the surface for weeks. It was all some awful drama left over from when different Earth factions had settled the planet generations ago. Her parents swore her friend would be okay. They kept saying that Elissa’s parents were scientists. They weren’t soldiers. They would evacuate to somewhere safe before it was too late.
She and Elissa had never met in person, but it was lonely up on the spaceship with just her parents. They had been in geostationary orbit over Elissa’s home city for over a year as Kendree’s parents did their Space Archaeology work. Her mother had met Elissa’s mother through the university in the city below and thought the two girls might enjoy meeting each other - at least over the video channel.
It was hard to be alone on the ship for so long with just her parents for company. She and Elissa had rapidly progressed from awkward “my mom says I have to talk to you” acquaintances to best friends who told each other everything. They loved the same books. They played each other their favorite music. Elissa told her that it was the best to have a friend who wasn’t part of the social scene down on the planet - she could tell Kendree anything. And she did.
The idea of not talking to Elissa for more than a day, let alone for some unknown long amount of time, made her heart ache. The idea that she might be in danger -- that she could be hurt as politicians and their soldiers fought over who was in charge? That made her skin crawl.
