I must have worked three or perhaps four hours completing them. As I had been finishing the lacings of the last boot I nicked my finger. Instinctively I brought it to my mouth. Some of the sap with which I'd glued the soles still clung to it. The taste was identical to the liquid from the ursoid's pouch. The latter had been thinned with something to keep it from setting up but it was definitely made with this sap.
I was getting good use from these trees...shelter, clothing, and now as source of food. It was this planet's arboreal version of the "buffalo". In preparation for sleep I banked the fire so I could rekindle if from embers in the morning. Before dropping off I told myself I should return to dome to leave a message describing my whereabouts for any rescue team that might arrive.
CHAPTER 4
The next few days passed uneventfully. I completed one brief foray to the "Transport" site to leave that message about my condition and whereabouts. I’d squashed some berries for ink and, using my finger for a brush, written it out on a section of leaf.
WELCOME
Arrived here naked but unharmed 2 days ago at sunset (local time). Have taken shelter in large tree 500 meters "South". (Use direction of sunset for “West") Some local vegetation edible. Drank water in stream south of this site with no ill effects to date.
Will return here around local noon most days.
Peter Cooper, Sci-Tech III
445-50-XXXX
Backside Base
I used some pieces of stony debris to keep the message splayed out on the couch where I’d arrived .As I was leaving I noticed a large oval worked into the wall above one of the arched tunnels. It appeared to be a stylized map. I was gratified to see that the central and western portions of it matched the ursoid’s. Near the center a violet colored stone marked what I took to be this site’s location. At the far western edge a magenta stone marked what I felt might be another transport site. There was, of course, no way to confirm this but the two maps were consistent in showing something at that location.
That night was a turningpoint. A clap of thunder jolted me from a sound sleep. As I bolted up I struck my head on the low roof of the chamber. At sunset there had been no trace of a storm. Now dry lightning was striking the tops of nearby trees every few seconds. The crashes echoed through the woods like an artillery duel or a large fireworks display. Trees of such great height might be struck quite often I supposed. Either storms were rare here or the trees had some resistance to being struck. The forest had obviously been here a l-o-n-g time
Light like a bright flash from a camera filled the chamber. A split second later a painfully loud clap shook me. This tree or the next must have taken a strike. A crackling ozone smell hung in the air. Dry lightning continued for several minutes before the rains came. It began gently enough but soon intensified. Within minutes the rain fell as if a weakened seam in the heavens had opened. A rising wind howled around the trunks of the trees, driving rain sideways into the woody cavern where I sat. The raindrops swarmed in like angry bees driven sidewise by the wind. Through the chamber’s opening lightning flashes showed that the once separate puddles were now consolidating into a solid sheet of water. Within an hour water began edging into the chamber entrance a meter or more above ground level. The embers of my fire hissed as the water reached them.
I groped in darkness for my things and thanked the providential impulse that had moved me to fasten them up again in the leaf before sleeping. As soon as I found the bundle I hoisted it to a ledge near the ceiling and jumped up after it.
Outside the storm continued without slacking. After sitting in the dark for several minutes I slipped off the ledge to get a better look at what was going on outside. I plunged down unexpectedly, waist deep in cold water. Soaked to the bone I clambered back to the ledge a wet miserable dog. I did see that the steadily rising water had covered all but the top 50 centimeters of the entrance attenuating most of the sights and sounds of the storm. In near total darkness I considered whether to try immediately for higher ground and risk being lost in the dark or to wait and hope that the water didn't fill the chamber completely.
Waiting seemed best for now. My chances of reaching high ground a hundred or more meters away would not be substantially worse in deeper water. Already it was too deep to wade out. To get out I would have to swim. I would have to leave my new boots and all the goods from the ursoid's pouch behind and I was reluctant to do that. I leaned back, trying to find a more comfortable sitting position, and heard a faint click. There was an immediate soft glow in the chamber and a musty smell. A thick section of the wall swung inward. I jumped back thinking at first that someone had opened the door and was ready to pounce, but when nothing happened. My weight against a concealed hatch had caused it to open.
My head and shoulders fit easily through the semi-circular opening. I peered inside. The light was coming from a bio-luminescent fungus that clung to every surface like a carpet of firefly tails. It glowed a soft yellow-green.
Across the chamber a staircase began at floor level and spiraled up to till it was lost in the dim light above. It rose without any sort of guard rail, like a stone staircase inside a castle tower. These steps weren't stone. They had been carved from the living wood of the great tree and each was overgrown with the fungus.
Minute by minute the water continued to rise. Now it was lapping at my ankles. Rather than swim for it I elected to enter the stair well, confident that the water could not rise above the level of the upper steps. Clutching my bundle of treasures I slid through the opening and made my way to sit on the bottom steps. They were slick and damp beneath a coating of glowing fungus. The rounded lip of each step combined with the slimy coating to make them very slippery.
By the end of the hour the water had covered the bottom ten steps. My estimate was that it was 3 to 4 meters deep outside the tree. Eventually I stopped hearing thunder claps and the water stopped rising. I was hopeful it would drain away as quickly as it had risen. No such luck. After a few hours the level was little changed. I supposed it must still be raining heavily somewhere in the area. If it was not raining locally, it might still be falling higher in the mountains, keeping streams and rivers too full to allow for a quick run off. I supposed it might rain for days. I had no idea about local weather patterns and sure couldn’t flip on my phone or com-link to check a forecast.
The unchanging glow and the repetitive soft lapping of the waters were almost hypnotic. The combination produced an odd effect. I was very sleepy but found it impossible to doze on these narrow steps.
To pass the time I pulled out the bag of salty seeds and chewed a few. The muddy water swirling slowly through the chamber was undrinkable so I checked my urge to eat more.
Thirst was my overriding concern. I still had the jar of the milky stuff from the ursoid's pouch but to drink that would have been like trying to drink thinned and sweetened library paste. It would supply some liquid but do little to quench my thirst.
Two options seemed open. One was to leave my bundle and try to swim to high ground by diving down through muddy water and wiggling through two small openings. The other was to ascend the stairs.
Neither was especially attractive. The stairs had clearly not been used recently but even the remote possibility of meeting an unfriendly alien at the top had to be considered. Thirst won out. I suppressed vividly imaginded images of bug-eyed demons descending upon me and began to move up the narrow stairway. The rise/run ratio was an odd one for human feet and legs and the treads were too narrow for their height. It helped to remind myself that despite their odd size these steps would have been the work of sentient beings, a prospect which inspired both hope and fear. Before ascending I dug through my bundle and found my crystal knife. Even this puny weapon made me feel a bit less vulnerable.
As I ascended the upper steps were still slick as any wet mossy rock. Most of the time I proceeded on all fours. When something small and slimy slithered across my outstretched arm I let out an involuntary shriek. My skin crawled
but suffered no ill effect. Later I passed into what felt like a thick spider web and for a few frantic moments pulled at the web sticking to my face and hands to make sure the spinner wasn't on me.
Below me the base of the stairs was lost to sight. I had spiraled sixty more meters up inside the great tree. A fall from this height would likely be fatal even if I landed in water below.
Descending would be more difficult than continuing so I pressed onward. Five minutes later the stairs ended in a small landing. From the landing five or six steps rose to a round wooden hatch which blocked further progress. A slightly brighter light seeped through cracks in and around the hatch. Though still pale and artificial this new source outshone the dim glow from the fungus. With my shoulder against the cover I pressed upward but couldn’t move it. It was hard to get decent footing on the steps or landing even though the coatings of slime and fungus were thinner here.
Even with a good foothold I could not have moved the hatch. Outlined by the brighter light above I could see that three wooden bolts crossed the gap from floor to hatch to hold it in place. Perhaps “brains” might prevail where “brawn” (such little as I possessed) had failed. The tip of my knife just reached the underside of the bolts in the narrow gap between hatch and frame. By pressing the tip into the wooden bolts I was able to lever them back a bit at a time.
I worked as quietly as I could for fear of disturbing the occupants. When the last bolt was free I lifted the hatch and pushed it aside. With my head and shoulders through the opening I could see a circular chamber about 2 meters high and 6 or 8 meters wide. It appeared to a storeroom. It filled what must have been the entire inside diameter of the tree at this height. More stairs ascended to my right. I followed them up to another room quite similar to the first. In both chambers the light was the same eerie green as below. Here, however, it radiated not from growths on the walls, but from large translucent spheres set in holders about the room. The light was the same color but more intense. In the second chamber it was almost bright enough to read by.
If you can imagine a dwelling built inside the empty smoke stack of a large power plant you should have a pretty good idea of the layout inside this great tree. Each of the chambers I came to was roughly circular. There were no side rooms or funny little nooks or crannies. Each chamber had a ceiling height of a little more than 2 meters and in each the narrow stairway spiraled up through a hatch in the roofs/floors on to the next level. The stairwells rose rather gently to the next level and as such took up a whole quadrant of the room. Like threads of a screw the stairs wound inside the hollow core. Except for thick outer walls and the wood forming the floors/ceilings the entire tree had been hollowed out either naturally or through the efforts of the inhabitants.
At each new level I strained to detect signs occupation but found none. Nearer the top I began passing workshops, living areas, and food storage areas. I thought it odd that they were located near the top rather than closer to the ground where the foodstuffs would be gathered.
From somewhere above rosy-amber daylight was streaming though a small opening in the wall above the well worn stairway. I squinted to give my eyes time to adjust, pulled myself up through the hatch, went to the “window” and for the first time in many hours breathed fresh air. It took a moment to get oriented.
I moved out through a low arched doorway onto one of the lowest branches. The branch was perhaps a third of the width of a residential street. I moved closer to the edge for a look down. The view was dizzying. Muddy waters swirrled slowly about the base. Judging by the dirty stains on the trunks neighboring trees the water which had crested at 4 or 5 meters was now receding. Overhead the sky was beginning to clear. Along one side of the branch a handmade rope as thick as my wrist had been strung as a sort of handrail. The other side was unprotected. I moved carefully along the rope like a non-skater hugging the rail at the local rink. For the first time I passed directly beneath huge leaves which were still a living part of this magnificent tree.
Along its length the branch divided and re-divided. It was like following a river system upstream along increasingly smaller tributaries near the source. With each division the branches became smaller and smaller but remained of heroic size in comparison with ordinary trees. Most of the branches left the main branch horizontally. This contributed to the parasol like effect when viewed from the ground. From the size of a small alley way they branched and divided, becoming the size of a path for golf carts, the size of a good sidewalk, the size of the walk to the front door or grandma’s house, the size of a cow trail/foot path. Here and there I encountered rough planks bridging the gaps between smaller branches just as alley ways might link main streets.
A long row of small platforms occupied the space ahead. On each platform a low box rested. The boxes were for the most part empty. One, however, held the remains of a nest whose scale almost matched the tree. If built by "birds" these must have been enormous. The egg compartment was nearly half a meter across.
I desperately sought to find a source of water, but there was nothing of the sort on this level. I returned to the stairs, reasoning that if the tree dwellers had any system for collecting rainwater it was probably at higher levels away from the bird roosts and their droppings. I ascended through several more levels, exploring each slowly and thoroughly before moving on. I wanted to avoid being cut off from possible escape back down the stairs.
On each of the next three levels were more of the "nest" boxes. Set before each group was a long shallow trough carved with row on row of geometric designs. There were thick perching poles secured above and behind, parallel to each branch. These were coated with stains from droppings, but here too I saw the mites I'd noted on the forest floor feeding on what was left of the waste matter. There was a residual odor in the immediate area, acrid, unpleasant, like sweaty clothes left too long in a gym locker.
At each level the contests of the apartments were carefully stowed as if the residents had left their summer cabin on the lake and gone back to the city for the fall. Each higher level was slightly better fitted out than the one below. In a small cubicle near the upper-most branches I found signs of recent occupation. A drinking vessel and a dish of seeds and nuts sat on a small table. A low platform, piled with skins and fresh leaves formed a bed. In the fire pit the ashes were cold but of recent vintage.
My hand closed unconsciously around the makeshift haft of my knife. With more reassurance than the puny weapon actually warranted I continued my search.
The floor plan was similar on every level. A circular apartment connected with levels above and below by a spiral stair. A small window cut high in the wall opposite a door opening to a major branch outside. The doors were rounded arches about 1.2 meters (4 feet) high. Some doorways were hung with mats of leaves, a few with wooden doors and one with the thick skin of a large animal covered on the inside with thick orange fur the consistency of scrub brush bristles.
After scanning the area carefully, I left the interior chamber and turned to search the branches outside. As I turned left along the branch I caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing in a clump of leaves at the far end.
I froze, heart pounding. Perspiration moistened my palms and forehead. I was stepping into the unknown on a path no one in recorded history had traveled. I was about to make contact with another sentient species. I was excited. I was afraid. My zenophobic feelings had the upper hand as I visualized zombie cannibals tearing me limb from living limb, hurling the pieces from the treetop. If I were luckier they might simply fill me with spears and arrows on the general principal that I was a stranger and an intruder. The most sensible thing to do would have been to run but my scientist's curiosity reasserted itself.
I HAD to see who lived here. Besides, I knew they had seen me and would locate me in their territory sooner or later. Better to make contact now and establish myself as a harmless guy with friendly intentions. God knows I could use help. The ursoid's food supply was running low. I had no idea when (if?) a re
scue party could be mounted or how any of us could possibly return if others were to follow.
After a few moments hesitation I moved shakily, but deliberately toward where the native disappeared. As I inched forward I repeated: "My name is Peter. I am a friend". I hoped the tone would be reassuring even if the content was indecipherable.
I held my hands away from my side palms up to show I was hiding nothing threatening. Near the spot where he disappeared I stopped. He couldn't be far.
ARRRRRRaaaaarrrr came repeated animal roars.
I retreated (i.e. fled at top speed) to the nearest chamber before venturing a look back. Nothing. Ten minutes later, still nothing. For the second time I'd been a half step away from becoming monster meat only to have my pursuer vanish from sight.
I'd pretty well deduced what happened to the Ursoid, but was still at a loss about the source of those fearful roars. Perhaps they originated with the local version of a Rottweiler. If so, neither mutt nor master were to be seen. From where I now stood I could see almost to the point where the native had disappeared. I scanned the trunk and branches above and below for signs of life but saw and heard nothing. I re-entered the chamber, bolted the door, sat down to wait where I could view the area along the branch through the wider cracks in the planking.
To calm my nerves I whistled a few bars of Country Gardens. I hoped the sound would also reassure the locals that I was not trying to hide my location as someone with hostile intentions might. Dry as my mouth was I would be glad to have my whistling vigil end. After perhaps 10 minutes a tuft of leaves near the end of the branch rustled and a slender figure emerged. I switched from whistling to singing the only song that came to mind "Happy Birthday to You". The first human/alien, alien/human contact was about to take place to the strains of the birthday song.
The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper Page 4
