by Jim Laughter
“We found the Patch,” Stan announced. “It’s pretty banged up, but intact. Delmar was here, but we don’t know where he is now.”
“Want me to call a retriever ship?”
“Sounds good to me,” Stan agreed. “But right now I’m concerned about Delmar. I suspect he’s out in that snow somewhere.”
“He’s been missing for almost eight months, Stan,” Leatha returned anxiously. “Surely, he found his way into a settlement of some kind. There’s no way he could have survived alone if this weather is indicative of the year-round climate.”
“It’s not, babe,” Stan answered his fiancé. “My new friend, George, assures me the spring and summer here are very pleasant.”
As an afterthought he added, “Perhaps he found shelter with a local family.”
“Maybe so,” Leatha agreed. “I’ll start scanning your area and let you know what I find.”
“Understood,” Stan replied. “I’ll get back to you. Stan out.”
∞∞∞
The small posse paused at the top of a ridge while Sheriff Stoddard scanned the horizon. The group of riders had been searching singly and in pairs since leaving town. They knew the distance one man could walk in the cold and had already reached the limit of that distance. Now they were working back, looking for signs of Delmar in the possible shelters provided by the terrain.
“I still don’t see any sign of smoke,” one of the men called to the sheriff.
“Me neither, but there’s always hope,” Sheriff Stoddard answered. “Walter said Del routinely kept matches in his coat pocket.”
“I sure hoped he used them,” another said as he looked to the north. “Looks like we are in for another blow.”
The others followed his gaze and saw the build-up of snow clouds along the northern skyline.
“I would estimate we have about two hours at most,” the sheriff said, appraising the weather.
“We should split up again and backtrack through the box canyons between here and town. Ride one on the ridge and the other in the hollow. Keep each other in sight. I don’t want to have to go out on another search in this weather.”
The searchers split up into pairs and started their winding ride along the canyons and ridges, looking for any sign of the missing man.
∞∞∞
Huddled in his cave, Delmar stirred in the cold-induced stupor that held him in its tightening grip. Troubling dreams swirled through his mind. He was oblivious to the world around him.
Outside his cave, the soft clopping of a horse winding along a worn path of drifted snow echoed through the concealed entrance, but Delmar was too deep in slumber to respond.
The rider strained his eyes, peering into each crevice and cave to no avail. Finding no evidence of the boy, he urged his horse down the canyon trail toward the flat land surrounding Fern Gulch.
The posse reformed and began their slow return back to town. A mechanical rattle in the sky caught the sheriff’s attention. He shaded his eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon.
In short order, he spotted Abby’s skyflyer headed their way at low altitude. It was apparent to his untrained eye that the craft was being buffeted by the wind. She flew overhead and then circled the group of riders. Stoddard saw her shrug her shoulders, wondering if they had found Delmar.
Sheriff Stoddard shook his head in response. Then he pointed toward the gathering storm on the horizon. Abby glanced over to the north and then nodded her understanding. The search was over. It was time to head back to the airpark.
While the sheriff watched, Abby banked the skyflyer away from the group and headed toward town. Knowing that he only had a short amount of time before darkness fell and the weather turned dangerous, Sheriff Stoddard nudged his horse into motion. With the flyer disappearing down the canyon, the posse increased their pace back to the warmth of town.
∞∞∞
Delmar woke abruptly, his body wracked by severe shivering. Squinting toward the cave opening, he saw the sun had begun its decent behind the horizon. It would be dark and colder soon and he didn’t relish the idea of spending another night in this cave.
The confusing dreams had begun to make some sense to him but he still couldn’t piece them together. He knew there was something hiding just out of his reach.
Pushing up from the floor, he tried to stretch the stiffness out of his limbs. The distinct sound of a skyflyer overhead filtered through the opening, forcing him to stagger outside.
Delmar scanned the sky for the source of the noise. He spotted Abby’s skyflyer as it banked for a pass over the far end of the box canyon and headed in his direction. In only moments, it would be overhead. He yelled and waved vigorously, trying to signal the pilot but it was still too far away.
Running back inside the cave, he felt the embers of his fire, pleased to find that it still had a spark of life. Without hesitation, he stacked most of his fuel onto the embers and blew on them until they caught. The fire blazed again while Delmar ran back to the cave entrance.
The flyer was approaching his position when Delmar stumbled out into the open, waving his coat. Again, the craft flew past overhead with no sign of seeing the young man. He watched it fly off until he lost it in the darkness of the winter sky.
A glance back at his shelter explained why Abby had failed to see the smoke from the fire—there was none. Although Delmar could easily see the bright blaze in the cave, the fire was burning clean, producing no smoke. He had failed to stack any greenery onto the fire.
A sudden gust of wind stirred the snow around Delmar’s feet. A look into the distance showed nothing but the towering snow clouds of the incoming storm. Abby’s skyflyer was gone.
Dejectedly, Delmar stumbled back into his cave as the wind increased around him. Slumping against the cave wall, he watched his fire burn down, providing him with the last of its heat.
His meager remaining supply of firewood lay cold on the floor of the cave. He checked his box of matches, finding only a half dozen left. He decided to save his firewood and matches until morning.
Outside, the sky darkened and the storm swept in over the forbidding countryside. He hoped he could survive the night. If so, he would venture out and try to find civilization and help.
Chapter Nineteen
The early morning wind howled around the buildings where the search party gathered in the sheriff’s office. Abby stomped in from the airpark and joined the somber group. The others looked at her while she stepped over to the woodstove and tried to rub the chill out of her hands.
“No, I didn’t find him,” she said in answer to their unasked question. “I barely got down and secured last night before the storm front hit.”
Everyone looked over at the sheriff where he sat on the edge of his desk.
“It doesn’t look as if the weather will break any time soon,” Sheriff Stoddard said to the group. “There’s not much we can do now except wait. Go on home and I’ll let you know if we get any news. Thank you for the help.”
One by one, the men walked back out into the storm lashing the town.
“I wish I could offer you more hope, Abby,” the sheriff began. He tried to think of something comforting to say.
“I think he must have holed up somewhere. Either that or he is gone.”
Abby stared out the window at the blowing snow.
“He’s still out there.”
“He’ll be all right,” the sheriff assured her, somehow knowing she was right. “He strikes me as having a lot of knowhow. He will weather this out somehow. You’ll see.”
“I’m going back up as soon as the storm breaks a little.”
“It’s too dangerous. That wind will tear that kite of yours to pieces.”
“I’m going back up,” Abby said, determination in her voice. “He’s out there somewhere, alone, possibly injured. He doesn’t know who he is. I must find him.”
Resigning to the inevitable, the sheriff poured a generous amount of steaming coffee into a mug and th
rust it into Abby’s hands. Nodding her thanks, she continued to stare out into the raging storm.
∞∞∞
Once again the portable comm unit sounded for attention. Stan activated the link.
“Stan here, go ahead.”
“I don’t think you’re alone,” Leatha said. She was in high orbit over the planet, monitoring the search from the Aurora.
“I read several heat signals moving along the valley not too far from you. They look human.”
The tribesmen had returned to their village when Stan and George called off their search for the night, refusing to sleep in the Cabbage Patch, fearful of offending the sleeping deity from the stars.
“Probably a party of tribesmen out looking for Delmar,” George offered from where he was sitting. “They hot-footed it out of here last night when it got cold. Now that the storm has broken, they must be out again. Which way are they headed?”
“Toward a small settlement a couple of miles past you,” Leatha said.
“I’m also picking up the heat signature of some sort of flying vehicle that’s moving rapidly back and forth along that canyon.”
“That’s probably one of their primitive aircraft,” George volunteered. “They have an airpark over near...”
“Hey! I just got something!” Leatha interrupted over the comm. “It’s stationary about half a mile northwest of you.”
George looked outside. Although the storm had stopped howling, the temperature was still bitterly cold.
“Could be just a campfire or a settler’s hearth,” he replied as he tightened his coat. “It’ll be wicked going into the wind.”
“What about the pressure suits in Cabbage Patch?” Stan suggested. “We could put them on underneath these clothes and no one would know from casual inspection.”
“Let’s do it,” George agreed while Stan ducked into the ship. “Did you hear all of that, Leatha?”
“Acknowledged. I’ve got the location pinpointed within about five yards. But the heat level is very low.”
“It’s as good a place to start as any,” George said. “Feed us the coordinates and follow our thermal footprint from orbit.”
“Roger.”
Stan emerged from the Cabbage Patch with three pressure suits and tossed one to George.
“I thought the extra suit might come in handy,” Stan said as he stripped off his utility uniform.
When the two troopers were dressed with the pressure suits underneath their clothing, George keyed his transmitter to speak to Leatha.
“We’re heading out now. I’ve attached a transponder onto the Cabbage Patch and activated the second one in my pack. We’ll be using the suit comm system from here on out.”
∞∞∞
Delmar sat and watched the fire slowly die from fuel exhaustion. Somehow he could see himself sitting in another cave in another place. But it seemed a long time ago and very, very far away. His head ached and he felt nauseous. Mixed with his fatigue, his mind began to clear and memories of a distance place and a former life swam to the surface of his consciousness. But he was tired—so very tired.
Just weak from hunger and prolonged exposure.
Hunkering down in his coat to conserve heat, Delmar wrapped his arms around his shoulders and slowly let himself drift off to sleep.
The dreams surfaced again of strangely familiar faces and even more unusual objects. Delmar found himself confused by all of the odd speech he was hearing, but as he slipped deeper into the dream, he began to understand it. With little effort, he was able to make sense of what was happening in the dreams, including the names of the people whose images he saw.
Unexpectedly, Stan Shane and a stranger appeared in the dream and began to shake him. Delmar tried to bat them away but his efforts were ineffective. His vision cleared and he found himself staring face to face with Stan.
At first Delmar was confused by the ghostly image of his friend. He didn’t doubt that it was Stan but he was wearing clothing like those worn in town. A bit of material from an Axia pressure suit pushed up past his collar. Finally, it dawned on Delmar that he wasn’t dreaming at all. In the background, he could hear Stan’s companion speaking into his suit’s comm system.
“What...what are you doing here?” he asked groggily.
He heard himself speaking a language he didn’t know he could speak, yet it came naturally, as if he’d spoken it his whole life.
“Saving your chestnuts from the fire as usual,” Stan answered with a grin.
Delmar tried to reply but a wave of dizziness swept over him. Stan immediately grabbed his friend before he could fall over.
“Leatha,” George called into the comm, “we found Delmar, but we’ve got a critical situation here. Land at these coordinates and we’ll load him up. I’ll talk you down the last few feet.”
“Acknowledged.”
Delmar heard Leatha’s faint voice over the comm.
“I’ll use the darkness for cover and should be there in a couple of minutes.”
“We better suit him up,” Stan suggested. “Give me a hand, George.”
Together the two troopers laid out the extra pressure suit and helped Delmar into it, clothes and all. As soon as it sensed his body heat, it shrank to fit his form.
“You stay with him,” George instructed as he stood up. “I’m going out to help Leatha set down.”
Stan nodded his assent and continued to keep his eye on Delmar while George stepped outside the cave.
Delmar could hear the exchange of chatter while George talked Leatha down to a blind landing over the comm in the pressure suit. Then as if a veil lifted off his mind, the strange words all made sense. Memories of faraway places, spaceships, planets, a military organization, and distant horizons flooded his mind. Delmar drifted off into a cold-induced untroubled sleep.
∞∞∞
When Delmar next awoke, he was laying on a bunk in some sort of cabin. The pressure suit had been removed along with his clothing, to be replaced by an Axia exercise suit. Sitting up sent his head into a spin again and a moan escaped his lips. Stan immediately appeared in the doorway.
“Where am I?” Delmar asked as he lowered himself back down onto the bunk.
“Aboard the Aurora in orbit over this backwater planet where you’ve been hiding,” Stan replied. “And for a dead man, you look pretty good.”
“Well, I don’t feel so hot. Every time I move my head, it starts to swim.”
“Save it for the doctor,” Stan said. “In the meantime, I’m getting you something to help steady your nerves. Hold on.”
Stan disappeared for a minute and returned with two pills and a glass of water. Delmar sat up a little and Stan held him steady his hands while he swallowed the pills and chased them down with the water. Stan helped him lay back down so they could talk.
“We’re all full of questions about what happened, but it can wait,” Stan said before Delmar could speak. “First off, is the Cabbage Patch reparable enough to fly on her own?”
“Not that I remember,” Delmar answered. “She’s in a cave somewhere, but I don’t know if I can find it again.”
Stan pressed the back of his hand against Delmar’s forehead in an attempt to see if his friend was running a fever.
“Don’t worry about that old bucket of bolts. We know right where she is.”
“You do?” Delmar asked. “The power was failing when I landed. She’s probably depleted by now.”
“She’s deader than a doornail,” Stan said. “Complete electrical failure. But George thinks we can jumper the green box and pump enough power into her to get her out of the cave.”
Stan got up and left the cabin for a moment. Through a viewport, Delmar could see the planet far below. Stan returned after a moment.
“Stan?”
“Yes?
“You keep mentioning George. Do I know a George?” Delmar asked. “Who exactly is George?”
“A friend, boyo,” answered Stan. “He helped pull your bacon f
rom the fire. He’s babysitting the Patch. Now hush up.”
“Yes, sir,” Delmar answered. “Anything you say.”
“Leatha is going to take us to where you hid the Patch once you catch your breath.”
Suddenly, Delmar remembered the people back in town.
“I’ve got to get back to town,” he said urgently. “They’ll be worried sick.”
“Leatha detected a search party from orbit,” Stan said. “She made out what were probably people on horseback and what appeared to be a primitive aircraft.”
The mention of the aircraft caused Delmar to sit bolt upright. Fortunately, the pills had started to take affect and his head only felt wobbly.
“Abby!” he exclaimed anxiously. “She’s been out flying in that storm?”
Stan was puzzled by Delmar’s outburst. He’d apparently been in close uncensored contact with the people living in the area. That could complicate matters on this backward planet. There was always the possibility of interfering with a planet’s natural evolutionary progress.
“Not to worry,” Stan assured his friend. “The storm has let up considerably. Just a little wind and cold now. Besides, Leatha tracked the aircraft back to a settlement not too far from the cave where we found you.”
“Good,” Delmar said. “That’ll be the airpark.”
“All right, we’re going back down,” Delmar heard Leatha call from the main cabin.
“I’ve got to get up.” He tried to swing his feet out and stand.
“Hey! Take it easy there, Trooper,” Stan ordered. “You can go sit out front if you want, but go easy. The medical scanner shows that you have several partially healed concussions, and I don’t want you passing out on me.”
“Don’t worry,” Delmar assured Stan. “Help me up. I’ll be careful.”
After being seated in one of the extra chairs in the control cabin, Delmar was able to watch what they were doing. Descending from orbit into the planet’s atmosphere, all he could see through the front windows was the billowing clouds of a thunderhead. Leatha smiled at him and then returned her attention to flying her ship. She was wearing a comm headset and talking to someone.
