“Sure … of course.”
“Where I … exist … time, specific locations, have little meaning. There’s no associated physical construct. But the same technology that allows me to be with you now, within this beautiful valley, on this magnificent planet, at this precise moment in time … well, it boils down to what you would call the fourth dimension. While the three-dimensional world of physical space is one where you experience the length, width, and height of things, time is the added fourth dimension. Time provides for the variable of direction.” Art peered up at Cameron quizzically.
“You can keep going; you’re talking pretty basic physics.”
“Good. So picture a four-dimensional piece of fabric; we’ll call it space-time. Now, when anything with mass plops down on this piece of fabric … this time-space … it produces a kind of dimple, an actual bending of the fabric … of space-time. This bending of space-time-fabric causes objects to move on a measurable curved path. This curvature of space is what we know as—”
“Gravity,” Cameron interjected.
“Excellent! So my projected image is sitting here in front of you because there is a specific, four-dimensional, mathematical calculation that allows me … as waves of light, in this case … to interact within your quantum time-space continuum.”
Cameron loosely was tracking what Art was sharing. Recently, he’d learned about similar things, like quantum theory, and how physicists reconcile quantum mechanics with Einstein’s general and special theories of relativity.
“But hey,” Art said, “you really don’t need to know any of this. Just know that it is possible to travel, and I am talking virtually, to other times and places.” Already shaking his head, he continued, “Wait, let me rephrase that: to only past or current times and places. The future hasn’t happened yet. Let’s not go down that road right now. So where would you like to go … perhaps someplace back on your home world; back on Earth, maybe?”
Cameron instantly thought of Heather. He desperately wanted to know if she was okay, but he didn’t feel right, just suddenly dropping in on her, even virtually. No longer together, he was sure she’d moved on. They both had. Nope. He wasn’t about to invade her privacy. “Can you just show me the town I used to live in? Larksburg Stand? The other Loth was there when I left.”
Art was already working the control board; his hands and fingers moved remarkably fast. “I’m not actually, physically, interacting with this console. This is just a show for your benefit. Do I look impressive?”
“I guess.”
A projected window, easily ten feet tall by ten feet wide, took form over the nearest streambed. Within it, things looked blurry. As Art continued with his manipulations, the projected scene slowly came into clearer focus. When the image locked in, Cameron recognized the site immediately. Seeing what remained of the Larksburg Stand Public Library, he gasped. The mother Griar Loth, obviously, on making it down to the bottom of Gant Mountain, had decimated the library building.
“Can you pan the view … look south along Horton Street?”
The window view changed to an alternate perspective. What Cameron now viewed was the remains of the little town of Larksburg Stand. It looked like a Category 5 tornado had ripped straight down Horton Street. Nothing was left standing. “Oh my God … Show me The Drake. It’s a coffee shop …”
Chapter 38
The virtual perspective changed again. All Cameron could do was stare in horrified disbelief. The Drake Café had been turned to rubble. The parking lot out front was a trampled mess of building debris and flattened cars. He scanned the area for signs of Heather’s VW Bug, but it was impossible to discern one smashed car from another one. Snow was falling, covering the destroyed little town of Larksburg Stand under a thick blanket of white.
Cameron swallowed hard, trying to recall what day of the week it was now back on Earth. Where was she on that horrific day? Working at the Drake? When the world fell in around her, was she filling someone’s coffee cup, or sorting kid’s crayons? Or perhaps simply standing at the little podium, ready to greet new patrons coming in the door? Offering up her usual radiant smile.
He stared at the young, still much smaller Minal Loth, standing ten feet away—observing him—taking it all in. It would be so easy to hate the creature, for the monster that birthed it. For what it could, eventually, also become.
The big virtual window wavered, blinking on and off several times, as if it were losing sync. Then Cameron noticed that Art, too, was jittering. The old man looked at Cameron, an expression of concern on his weathered old face. No sound emanated out from his moving lips. He pointed a crooked finger to the East, high up the mountainside, toward where the Primion was perched, just below a large, expansive, plateau. Then, like the disappearing window over the streambed, Art, too, faded from view.
Art had been attempting to tell him something, just before his image faded out. The reason why the virtual window could no longer show Larksburg Stand, or Art’s own virtual representation, was due, somehow, to the ship’s interference. Actually, thinking about it now, not from the ship itself, but from the damn XI droid—stationed there within the ship. Without a doubt, the Priopax device signals had been purposely jammed. Cameron studied the small brick-sized item, no longer projecting Art’s friendly image. The console was gone, too, reduced back to its small, dinner plate shape. In fact, all items had returned to their original, inert shapes and sizes. But the duplicated F150 still remained intact, parked alongside the original one. That, at least, was something positive.
One-by-one, Cameron collected the now-compacted Priopax devices and placed them back into the trinious bundle. Closing it up, he tossed the bundle into the bed of his old original truck. He turned around to see if there was anything else he’d missed. The Loth no longer stood at the edge of the stream. Cameron walked around the duplicated F150 to make sure it wasn’t crouched there on the other side, hiding out of sight. Maybe it liked to play games—perhaps had a sense of humor? But it wasn’t there either. The Loth was the only reason he’d trekked down to the valley. Without the Loth with him, returning to the ship didn’t make much sense.
“Loth?” Cameron yelled toward a distant cropping of trees. “I’m taking off … guess I’ll just have to leave you behind.” He scanned the surrounding terrain, watching for any sign of movement. All was quiet. Alongside the bank of the stream was a drying mound of mucus. Cameron went around to the passenger’s side of his old truck and opened the door. He then hurried back to the stream bank, and, holding his breath, used both hands to scoop-up the Jell-O-like mound of mucus. Returning hurriedly to the truck, he deposited the smelly goo onto the floorboard, right in front of the passenger’s seat. The glob of mucous settled over the three holes, incurred when he’d shot at the piquet sprints that were lying there earlier. Bending over, he peered beneath the truck. Watched to make sure the mucus stuck, wasn’t flowing out through the holes onto the sand below. So far so good.
Cameron found a large flat rock—about the size of a large pizza—and pressed it down firmly onto the floorboard. As the mound of mucus squished out around it, he again checked beneath the truck. Only a tiny bit was plopping down onto the sand, not much. With luck, he’d sealed the floorboard—enough to keep it somewhat watertight.
Standing upright, Cameron again scanned the surrounding landscape, and still no sign of the Loth anywhere. He studied the truck. Wanting to give the mucus time to dry anyway, he decided to head in the direction of the third streambed, to cross over it by foot. Halfway across, the water was up to his knees. He kept going and reached the opposite bank none the worse for wear. “Loth!” Still no answering sound, no visible movement.
Cameron didn’t like the idea of searching the trees, knowing animals were there, waiting to attack him. He rested a hand on the butt of the plasma weapon protruding above his belt. At the tree line, he continued on, attentive to what lay both left and right along the way. “Loth? You want to come with me? What’s going on? I thoug
ht we were getting along … no?”
The trees were closer together now. Dense foliage high above blocked out much of the light from ever reaching the ground. Cameron paused and took a quick glance behind him. In the distance he could barely make out some dappled sunlight reflecting off the streambed. The way ahead was in near-total darkness, like standing in the mouth of a cave. This is crazy, he thought. Best to turn back. The Loth will come back … eventually. Probably off taking a crap, wanting some privacy.
Cameron continued to move forward another thirty yards. Not only were the trees closer together here, their trunks were grander in size—easily five or six feet across. How was it possible that it had become so dark so quickly? Stretching his hand out before him, he could barely see it. Glancing back, he could no longer see the stream, no longer see the light filtering through the branches.
Remembering he had his charged iPhone with him,
Cameron plucked it out of his back pocket. Fumbling with it, he eventually got the flashlight feature turned on. He pointed it ahead first, then turned 360-degrees around. The terrain looked the same—dense trees in every direction. Which direction did I come from? He wondered, In which direction is the stream? He had no idea. Fuck! He leaned over and pointed the light toward his feet, hoping to see his own tracks in the dirt. Instead, there were an infinite number of tiny pine needle things blanketing the ground.
By the time Cameron fully registered the sounds above him, he was already being lifted up: Up—up—up, into the higher branches. As powerful fingers gripped at his shirt, he heard fabric tearing. His iPhone tumbled from his hand—its bright flashlight beam becoming faint as it disappeared into the darkness below. Then, set down onto a firm, sturdy branch, he sensed—more than felt—their presence. A large number of them—like being in a crowd of bustling strangers. The darkness was absolute. Their breaths were deep and rapid, warming the cool air.
Cameron tentatively reached out a hand and felt hair … Or is it fur? He tried to remember what the difference felt like. Tried to focus on anything that would keep him from thinking about his impending—and assuredly most painful—death.
Chapter 39
He continued to wait for it. An attack. Unimaginable pain as his arms and legs were being mercilessly torn from their sockets. But it still hadn’t happened. Cameron was certain these were the same breed of aliens he’d first learned about back within the confines of the HOD. These captors were the primate-like Dalima Climbers.
The attack didn’t come. The pain didn’t come. Sitting on the sturdy wide tree branch, maybe hundreds of feet above the ground, at this point his biggest fear was being lulled into a false sense of comfort. To all of a sudden have his worse fears realized. An animal moved closer, now directly behind him. He could feel heat—projected bodily warmth—as it leaned its weight onto him. Hardly the act of a band of savage killers, he tried not to read too much into the fact he was still alive—being provided warmth.
Only then did Cameron remember he was well armed, the plasma weapon secured at his waist. He could defend himself—if he had to. But would he have time to pull the weapon and fire? He recalled the impossible speed when he was grabbed, pulled up into the trees. Blazingly fast. Even so, he felt good knowing the gun was close. He wasn’t totally at the mercy of these alien monkeys.
Ten minutes passed, and Cameron was getting antsy. How did they manage to do anything up here in the pitch black anyway? As if on cue, his question was answered. The first emanation of light came from a tree, two trunks away from the one he was perched on. He saw the animal and its broad chest, which, for no better word, was now glowing. A reddish-amber hue illuminating outward defined others nearby. They were big like apes, but very much like monkeys. Cameron remembered from the encyclopedia that monkeys had tails whereas apes did not. That was on Earth though; he couldn’t expect those terms to match the alien creatures here perfectly.
Two of them sat astride the same branch. The closest one was slowly rubbing its hand back and forth over the other’s wide and muscular chest. It seemed an affectionate gesture—like stroking a dog’s back, or the flank of a horse. Another reddish-amber glow suddenly appeared, then another. Soon, most of their chests emitted the same warm glow, and the dark ominous trees were transformed into nothing less than a magical wonderland. Like a hundred small bonfires—flickering and pulsating—illuminating these beasts’ contented expressions. The one nearest him then joined the others, its glowing chest the color of volcanic molten lava—or glass just retrieved from a blazing kiln. He recalled his readings of the World Book Encyclopedia. Under letter B—Bioluminescent: Certain animals within the animal kingdom utilize a bioluminescent protein, like luciferase, to produce a glowing effect in darkness. The firefly and ocean jellyfish came to mind.
Now that he was able to study their physical attributes, up close and personal, he realized they were quite human-like. Fine black hair covered both bodies and faces. And these Dalima Climbers had long tails, which helped them secure holds onto tree branches. But most startling were their eyes. Deep blue and expressive, they conveyed a high degree of intelligence. They were communicating with one another now in mostly low, unintelligible murmurs. Most assuredly, they were sharing, and he was the subject matter. Cameron stared back at them, wishing he could speak to them in their own tongue. He wondered, given time, if he could learn to master their language. He really would like that.
Cameron felt a hand on his chest, slowly rubbing back and forth, back and forth, in a rhythmic motion. As his eyes grew heavy-lidded, his breath slowed and deepened. He turned his head, just far enough to see who was there. Who was responsible for the soft touch. The female was studying him—watching his face, his expression. Her eyes were the color of dark turquoise. Her features—nose and lips—were delicate. Beautiful, in a primal—Dalima Climbers—kind of way.
Cameron whispered, “God … I wish you could understand me. Understand that I appreciate what you … what you all are sharing with me.”
She spoke then, her words also a whisper. Her strange language had a melodic sing-song lilt to it. Then she smiled. She found his hand and, placing it high on her hairy chest, guided it back and forth slowly, until the hidden bonfire in her chest erupted into brilliant amber. She closed her eyes, and a contented smile returned to her lips.
Cameron leaned closer to her and said, “My name is Cam.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Cam.”
Puzzled, she looked at him for a long moment then comprehension gleamed in her bright eyes. Taking his hand, she placed it over her own heart and said, “Lalik.”
As much as he wanted to stay with Lalik, and the others, safe high up in the trees—he knew his time limit to return was quickly passing away. He needed to find the Loth, get back to the ship, then travel back to Earth … eventually. Pointing a finger downward, toward the distant ground, he asked Lalik, “Can you help me get down?”
Chapter 40
Cameron walked to the outer edge of the tree line and spotted the familiar three streams, both his trucks, and the flipped-over Tangine-Shell. Also, the picked-over remains of the Greely Beast’s carcass. Lalik, who’d escorted him out of the forest, had tightly embraced him before quickly disappearing back into the wooded darkness. The AI, back when he was within the HOD, had called it all wrong. The Dalima Climbers were not the ferocious beasts depicted—not even close. They were a gentle, intelligent species he would enjoy seeing, learning more about, if possible.
But now his biggest concern was finding the Loth. Wading through the stream, Cameron looked in all directions to see if there was any sign of it. By pure chance, he glanced higher up the mountainside. Something was moving on the same ridge he’d descended down driving his truck. What is … that?
Not really just one thing, he squinted and stared. It was a procession of shapes, steadily moving along about halfway up. He counted no less than twelve, and they weren’t human. After watching them for a spell, Cameron discerned they were robots, of some so
rt, transporting something large behind them. Now I know where the Minal Loth is! His biggest question: Is it still alive? From this distance, probably close to a mile, he couldn’t make out too much detail. The creature had saved his life, seemed to care about him. Feeling a strange loyalty, even a kinship with the disgusting-looking beast, he didn’t like the idea that XI intended to harm it.
Cameron recalled the last visual image he’d received of Alice, her battered and scorched face. XI was way out of control. Another thought occurred to him. Since XI, obviously, was retrieving the Minal Loth without his participation, did that mean he wouldn’t be allowed to return back to the ship? Was he to be marooned on this planet … for the rest of his days?
Cameron, trudging out of the stream and up the bank, crossed to his original truck in three long strides. He turned the ignition key, and the engine roared to life. Dropping the transmission into drive, he stepped on the gas. Sand and small pebbles flew behind the truck as its wheels first spun, then grabbed.
He hit the center stream, going twenty-five. Forward momentum carried the truck toward the center of the small river, and, as before, the strong current pushed the truck somewhat off-course. The good news: hardly any water was entering past the stone, set snugly onto the floorboard. While some water still seeped in under the doors, it was less than before. Finding traction within moments, the truck began climbing up the opposite bank. Cameron then navigated the truck across the last, far shallower, stream. Once on dry land, he cranked the wheel and climbed up the steep embankment, leading to the ridgeline road above.
From his present low mountain vantage point, there were far too many turns and bends on the ridge road to get a clear sightline on the robotic procession so far ahead. Cameron gave the old truck a bit more gas. He needed to catch them, preferably before they reached the Primion. Spinning the wheel to the right, for the next tight turn, he felt the rear of the truck fishtail—far too close to the left-side edge of the road for comfort. Any mistake now, from this elevation, would send the truck barreling over the cliff. Certain death … for sure. He slowed, cranking the wheel to the left, then quickly to the right, while pushing the pedal all the way to the floor when the ridge road straightened out. Accelerating, the F150 was now clearly gaining on the procession. Cameron unconsciously leaned forward—like one did on horseback or a bike—attempting to quicken the pace.
Ship Wrecked: Stranded on an alien world Page 18
