The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper

by Larry E. Clarke

  We ran out the ramp Lady Camillia would use to disembark with the load of emergency supplies Omera and the others had selected. Before letting her move down the ramp we formed a sort of bucket brigade to pass a quantity of stones back to the gondola. These would help anchor the ship, ease strain on the mooring lines, and serve as ballast to replace the weight of the materials and passengers being off loaded. We found a serviceable spot to erect our tent between two boulders each the size of a house. About that same time heavy rains began to fall. We were soaked by the time we got our supplies and our selves under cover of the tent. Wind from the storm was howling and blinding flashes of lightning were seen through the tent walls. Thunder claps reverberated and like drum rolls down the narrow valley.

  Palomas and the Captain were discussing whether to vent the hydrogen in the gas bags to prevent them from being ripped apart by the storm. Reluctantly they agreed on this course of action even though Palomas cautioned that it would take at least a week for his device to replenish the gas. All agreed it would be easier to replenish the gas than to repair damaged bladders. He and the captain left to begin venting the hydrogen. Dhars and I rose to follow but were sent back “The space in the cat walk will only accommodate two” Palomas reminded and waved us back to our seats on crates of supplies.

  Perhaps 30 seconds after they had resealed the tent flap there was a deafening crash/flash followed by a huge orange flare. As we rushed from the tent the situation was clear in an instant. The Pride was burning, the bag fully engulfed in flames and gondola itself also starting to burn. Rain poured down but had no effect. We found Palomas and the captain on the ground near where the boarding ramp had been. Both had been burned. Palomas was not breathing.

  Although my ears still rang from the thunder clap I opened his tunic and pressed my ear against his chest. . . nothing. Scarcely able to hear anything above the roar of the storm I was still pretty sure there was no heartbeat. I felt for a pulse at his wrist and neck and found nothing. Motioning the others back I began the chest compressions using an old disco song to set the tempo. I also had Mola who had been cradling his head tip it back, pinch his nose, clear his airway, and begin blowing air into his lungs. We worked steadily for what seemed a very long time but what must have been less than a minute before he sputtered and opened his eyes I stopped the compressions and Mola stopped with me. Despite our admonitions to stay down he soon insisted on sitting up. A few minutes later he indicated by gestures that he could walk. With our assistance he made it back to the tent. Dhars and Lady Camille had already taken the captain there and begun to treat his burns using supplies from the first aid kit. Hard to tell whether the burns had been caused by the lightning strike or the burning hydrogen. I don’t suppose it really mattered.

  The storm howled on until mid evening, lashing our little tent intermittently with bands or heavy rain. Thanks mostly to the shelter of the two huge boulders it stayed intact. At Dhar’s suggestion we used one leak in the roof to catch as much rain water as possible. He and Lady Camille also rigged a sheet of canvas outside to fill as many other containers as possible. At this altitude fresh water was likely to be in short supply.

  By perhaps 10:00 in the evening the storm had blown through. As the cloud cover gradually blew away the night sky of Pacham/Ulan blazed out in full glory. After midnight the first moon set, followed a couple of hours later by the second. The gondola fire had been mostly extinguished by the rains but here and there a red ember still winked. On a pre-dawn trip to relieve myself I considered trying to catch an ember to allow for a morning fire. . . but remembered we had ample fire making supplies in the tent. I turned back toward the tent and the rough canvas roll I’d been using for a bed. Before I reached the tent flaps I encountered Lady Camille softly munching some of the sparse vegetation to be found at this altitude.

  “Good Morning Lady. . . can’t sleep?”

  “I slept relatively well Petar but left the tent to allow the others better rest. I confess that among my people all the gas produced by our multiple stomachs goes without comment. . . but I have been around humans enough to know they find these emissions somewhat unpleasant. . . so to spare them. . . and to free myself I came out”

  “Very thoughtful. . . I’ll be eager for sunrise so we can take stock of our supplies and examine the maps. I want to estimate our position. The maps are rough but we should be able to make a general estimate. I’m just glad we were able to touch down before the full storm hit.”

  “Agreed. . . from the size of those thunderheads I can’t imagine we could have risen above it, gone around it, or retreated ahead of it. The captain and Palomas made the best decision even though the Pride was lost.”

  “The captain was painfully but not very deeply burned. He’ll have to re-grow some hair and eyebrows but should avoid any scars. Palomas seems to have been closer to the lightning strike. He has a burn on his scalp where his hair may not grow back and burns on the bottoms of his feet.”

  “Petar, it is fortunate you knew what to do to re-start his heart. If we return to Arthena or Mon-Ton you must share this technique with the other humanoids there.”

  At that I bade her “Good-night/good morning” and tried unsuccessfully to sleep for another hour. The entire party was active as soon as there was enough pre-dawn light to move over the rocky ground without stumbling. Mola and Omeera got a small fire going and were boiling water for a hot beverage to accompany the cold sausages and bits of bread and cheese from the emergency supplies. The captain’s face was covered with a thin layer of an oily salve which he gratefully reported had helped to numb the pain of the burns. His hands were similarly covered. Palomas was hobbling about. His feet and joints were very sore. He reported that he felt as if he had been sewn into a bag and beaten with sticks all night. Still, he was glad to be alive. After Omeera told him how he had been resuscitated he thanked me solemnly for saving his life. Unsure how to respond I simply nodded my acknowledgment.

  In the full morning light we picked through the burned out remains of the gondola. Mola and Omeera managed to salvage some of their personal items, including some clothing. We found a pair of boots to replace the ones Palomas had been wearing. Those now had holes burned in the bottom of each! The mission log book had survived with only a few scorch marks on the outside of the bag in which it was sealed. Even the pages had remained dry. Palomas' exquisite little musical instrument had remained intact although its elegant case had been scorched here and there.

  With the surviving chart spread over a boulder near the tent we huddled round to decide what we should do next. The captain noted that now we were grounded and he no longer had an airship to command. . . it might make sense to pick another leader for the expedition. Rather than reject his proposal in a false show of support the group discussed whether we still needed a “leader” and agreed that we did. There was some discussion of who could best fill the role. Palomas who had made one prior trip to the second transporter site was considered until he pointed out that his age and the need to recover from his burns would make it difficult for him to lead. In the end there was unanimous agreement Captain Allestaer should continue to head the expedition.

  He stepped up to the map/chart and with his finger traced out a possible route through the remainder of the mountain range and on to the high plateau we about 60 kilometers to the north west of our position. The most direct route was blocked by high peaks so our immediate course would be to continue almost straight north along the valley we were in. We would have to cross the river at the bottom and to turn westward through a lower pass about 30-40 kilometers ahead. No one could estimate the time it would take to reach the alto-plano since we had no information about natural obstacles we would encounter. The captain's advised that we pack as much food and water as we could carry and assume it could be 2-3 weeks before we reached any area where our supplies might be more easily replenished.

  By about mid-morning we had assembled the supplies to be carried. Where possible critical items wer
e loaded into separate packs so that losing one pack would not mean the loss of all our medications, or all our fire starting gear, etc. The weight in each was also calculated not to overtax the person carrying them. Lady Camille once again was terrifically helpful. She could eat anything, go days without drinking if necessary, and could carry 5-10 times what any of us could manage without apparent strain. Dhars and I used a small hand ax to fashion several tall walking sticks from sections of gondola rail that had escaped the fire.

  “I recommend you at least try using these” I advised the others. “They can give you more stability over rough ground and while descending. When you climb you can shorten your grip and take some of the load on your arms to rest your leg muscles.”.

  Seeing that all were ready the Captain gestured toward the north. Off we went, meandering in single file toward a saddle connecting the small mesa we were on to the next ridge line. I admired the capacity of our group to endure such a major setback without once complaining or cursing their bad luck. There wasn't much conversation as each person focused on the rough ground ahead, stepping carefully to avoid a fall or twisted ankle. They knew that an injury to anyone would soon be a major problem for everyone.

  We paused for a long rest break in early afternoon and made the best meal we could from our supplies. We gratefully drank some of the captured rainwater. Although there was plenty of water in the river a thousand meters below, our higher route was easier. The vegetation was sparse and we had a more open field of view to what lay ahead. Looking back we could still see a black smudge on the mountainside where the Pride had burned. As the crow flies I estimated we had covered no more than 7 or 8 kilometers. It had taken us three hours or more of hard traveling to do so.

  Eight days later we crossed the last pass and emerged on a high altiplano. For more than a week we had struggled up steep passes only to immediately descend into equally steep valleys on the other side. We lost some of our gear crossing the river. Only quick thinking by Dhars and Lady Camille kept me from being swept away and likely drowned. Finally, with supplies dwindling we hobbled, footsore, down from the last pass onto this high plain populated with stunted trees and scattered clumps of tough grass.

  Although there may have been three hours of daylight left we elected to make camp. In a now familiar routine we each set about specific tasks. Omeera and I set up the tent which had surprised us all by making it thus far without any real damage. Dhars and Lady Camille scouted the area for fuel for a fire and anything that might be edible. The Captain and Palomas began unpacking the cook gear and getting ready to make our one hot meal of the day. With those preparations complete we sat down to rest and map out strategy for the next leg of the journey.

  Captain Allestare unrolled his map/chart and anchored the corners with stones against the wind still playing where we huddled in the lea of the tent. The rays of the setting sun gave some welcome warmth to our tired bones. Before we could begin conferring Plaomas and Lady Camille hurried back into camp. Palomas was grinning and Lady was making the lowing sounds she unconsciously produced when especially excited or content.

  “Surprise everyone. . . Lady and I found a hot spring not ten minutes walk from here. The path is mostly level, and the water is a delightful temperature. Who's up for a bath!”

  The response was immediate AND enthusiastic. As we followed Palomas and Lady to the springs I awkwardly questioned Omeera about whether she'd prefer some privacy for her wash up? “Petar. . . we are not so conscious of what you'd call “modesty.” she giggled and kept walking. Omeera was a beautiful woman even among the Threatens. My concern, unconsciously, may have been as much for myself as for her. The springs (there were at least three of sufficient size for bathing) trickled out of hillside into pools with gravel bottoms. The boulders ringing the pool were well positioned for seating and for getting in and out of the water. On closer examination it was evident they had been placed intentionally for just that purpose. Rather than spoil the opportunity for some much needed R& R, I would keep that observation to myself . . .for the moment. Around me the party was undressing with abandon and entering the water. I followed them in to the steaming pool. Initially it was just a bit too hot but soon the warmth began to suffuse my aching muscles and soak down to my bones. After a few minutes of active washing to remove the grime from days on the trail everyone lay back to blissfully soak. I could see why all over the Earth communities had grown up around natural hot springs.

  As much as I was enjoying the bath (and truth be known the view of Omerra) I had some concern about leaving our camp unattended now that I recognized other beings frequented the area. I made and excuse and left the group. Dhars followed suit. We dressed and left the Captain, Palomas, Lady Camille, Mola and Omeera still enjoying the waters.

  Our spirits were lifted by the hot springs and by the stew of dried vegetables and meat the captain and Palomas had put together. We dipped the last or our hardtack-like bread into the broth to soften it. Not too bad. I'd had worse on camping trips back on Earth. After eating we even sang a few songs around our little campfire of dried grasses and twigs.

  The next morning the group was up in the gray predawn light completing all our self assigned tasks. Collectively we made a final sweep of the area to be sure nothing had been left behind. The captain nodded, took the lead of the column, and we started out. Dhars or I usually alternated between being second in the line of march or in bringing up the rear of the group. Throughout the day the order of march might change depending on who was ready for a temporary change of companion or perhaps for time alone with their thoughts.

  By mid afternoon we had descended perhaps 750 to 1,000 meters. The air was noticeably thicker as was the vegetation. We crossed over a shoulder of a hill and saw a broad meadow below us. Grazing in the meadow were perhaps 200 animals about the size of sheep. From beneath the trees at the end of the meadow a thin column of smoke rose from a small cabin.

  We made out way to the meadow then skirted the edges to avoid interaction with the grazing animals. No one in the party knew what they were called. They reminded me a bit of a cross between a wild hog and an angora goat! Their legs were a bit longer than those of a hog and their coats were long and silky. They rooted along the ground and when they raised their heads to chew we could see that they had two pointy tusks on each side of the jaw in addition to the flattened teeth they were using to crop the meadow grasses.

  The main party waited perhaps 20 meters away while the Captain and Palomas advanced toward the cabin. Palomas called out, in a language I'd not heard before, as they approached the front door. There was no immediate response so they held their position and called again. The door cracked open and Palomas began conversing with the single visible occupant. After a moment he and the captain were invited inside. They turned as they entered signaling us to sit down and wait.

  “I think that herder is a Fusian” Mola speculated. “If so, Palomas mentioned them in reports to the council after his previous journey to the site. They are more or less humanoid although generally of smaller stature and with 3 rather than our 5 digits. If memory serves me they were quite helpful to the last expedition.”

  Perhaps ten minutes later the three emerged from the cabin and strode toward us. Palomas made introductions: “My friends, this is Merkha vas Talca, a herder of silf, and member of the Fusian people”. He then indicated and introduced each of us in turn. Merkha acknowledged each introduction with a broad smile through rather crooked and yellowed teeth and with a sort of salute that involved rolling his hand at the wrist while raising his forearm to about shoulder level.

  Palomas went on: “Merkah tells us that his town is about 3 hours walk from here. He has written a note of introduction for the headman of the town describing how he met me and other members of the original expedition when he was a young boy. He adds that we were fair and friendly in all our dealing with the village where he lived at that time. His original home village is about 30 kilometers northwest of here. Merkah came to thi
s area when he married. He took over this herding operation from his wife's family. He'd like to guide us but cannot leave the herd. He has has made corrections to our map and given directions. We should find it easily before sunset.”

  We parted amicably. Merkah insisting that we take some of his freshly baked bread and we pressing him to accept the last of our cheese. Off we went, further down into the plains along a lightly worn trail to the town of Tascala. As we walked we munched the still warm bread, rough but very tasty, especially those pieces which Merkah had spread with butter from silf milk.

  Tascala was an agricultural town of perhaps 3,000 or 4,000 inhabitants. The buildings were largely stone but with relatively liberal use of wood for the roofs, eaves, windows and doors. The streets were paved with the slate like material we’d seen in several locations as we crossed the mountains.

  With the introduction from Merkah we were soon led to the headman of the town. He and several other villagers recalled the earlier expedition. One or two recalled Palomas specifically. We were heartily welcomed that evening as we sat in front of the fire place in the sturdy stone building that served as the community center. We ate our first really good meal since before the crash. We were . . . wined and dined with the best meats, cheeses, breads and local beer the village had to offer. We protested their excessive hospitality while they listened attentively and with much apparent appreciation to the story of our expedition. We told of the odyssey Lady Camille and I had begun so many months ago, of our time in Molton and of Dhar's addition to the group. They heard our accounts of captivity and eventual escape in Voquira and how the Threatens became allies and benefactors. Finally, they heard of our attempt to cross the mountains via airship, of the crash and of how we continued our journey until meeting Merkah. Each step of the journey led to the next and to our eventual arrivel Tascala this very evening. They understood fully that we had nothing to trade, no means to repay their hospitality and yet they insisted on doing all they could to assist us.