I went back toward the wreckage, searching the ground. One of them, mine, was lying in the grass.
Gradually, the chirp and buzz of insects penetrated the late afternoon. Despite the vast differences between living worlds, the harmony of the forest never changes. Woodlands may differ in the tone of howls and snorts and screeches, but there are always insects, and they always sound the same.
We waited. I used my jacket to make a pillow for Alex, and he commented that he’d enjoyed the ride. “One of your smoother landings.” Then: “What’s he like?” He meant our rescuer.
“He seems reasonable enough.”
“He is coming back?”
“I hope so.”
Almost an hour later, he walked out of the trees, accompanied by two others. At about the same moment, my link sounded. It was Belle. The ship. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Alex has a broken leg. Otherwise, we’re okay.”
“Are you in any immediate danger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you got out of the lander safely. You pushed it too far, Chase. I warned you.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” said Alex. “How long before we can expect help?”
“Twelve days, at the earliest.”
Alex traded smiles with Faloon. “We’ve been rescued by locals,” he said.
“They are not a threat?”
“No. We’ll keep the links active. I want you to listen in and try to pick up the language. Can you do that?”
“I can try, Alex.”
Our rescuers had brought a pallet, consisting of a couple of blankets stretched across two tree limbs. They talked among themselves and delivered reassuring sounds to us. One carried a gun in his belt. It was like the ones used against us at the fishing camp. Primitive but effective. We kept the links on, but the receivers were in our ears so that Belle’s voice wouldn’t be overheard. “By the way,” she said, “be aware that I’ll be out of range again in a few minutes.”
“How much time will we get?” Alex asked.
“About eleven minutes on each pass. I’ll let you know,” Belle said, “when I’m in the zone, and I’ll warn you when you are about to lose contact.”
They all wore animal-skin leggings and jackets. And they had straggly beards. One of them had brought the makings of a splint. Another carried a flagon. I approached the one who’d rescued us and pointed at myself. “Chase,” I said.
He nodded. “Turam.” (I found out later that “faloon” was indeed the standard greeting.) We shook hands. The others were Dex and Seepah.
They looked at Alex’s leg, talked to one another, and they knelt around him. Seepah, the tallest of the three, applied ointment, then said something to Alex. We didn’t have to speak the language to translate: This will hurt a little bit. They held the flagon out for him and signified he should drink.
He tried it. Looked at me like a trapped animal. You think these guys know what they’re doing?
When he attempted to return the flagon, Dex shook his head, and said one word. There was no mistaking the meaning: More.
Belle notified me she was losing the signal. “Good luck,” she added.
They handed the flagon to me. It was lemon-colored, and it smelled all right, so I tried it. “That’s not bad,” I said. A couple of minutes later, I was out.
When I recovered, they’d finished setting Alex’s leg and were lifting him carefully onto the pallet. Two of them picked him up and started for the woods. Turam came back to me, smiled, and asked something. Was I all right? I nodded. He helped me up, and we followed the others.
A boat was waiting for the river crossing. The group of structures I’d seen from the air occupied the opposite bank. We got in and pushed off. Dex and Turam rowed while Seepah stayed close to Alex.
I hadn’t been aware how wide the river was. It was peaceful and quiet, but we needed twenty minutes of furious rowing to get to the other side.
Several people were waiting when we docked. They looked at us curiously, asked questions of everyone, including Alex and me, and relieved those who’d been carrying the pallet. I recorded the conversations for analysis by Belle.
At the center of the cluster lay a two-story building that might have been a hotel in another era. It was a three-sided structure, U-shaped, with the open end in the rear. It had a covered deck, which was liberally supplied with chairs, tables, and potted plants. Houses, sheds, and barns surrounded it. I thought I heard animals somewhere. And two other, smaller, buildings, which appeared to be greenhouses, stood off by themselves. Except for a narrow open space that ran from the front doors of the long building to the river, the entire compound was sealed off by forest.
By the time we arrived, dusk was settling in. Lights burned in a number of windows, both in the houses and in the long building. A few front doors opened as we approached, and more people, including a few children, came out and looked.
“I guess,” I told Alex, “they don’t get many visitors.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but I’ll bet the real issue is that they saw us pass overhead in the lander. I doubt they’ve seen much antigrav technology.”
Seepah took us inside, where still more people waited. He led us down a hallway into a room illuminated by a half dozen oil lamps. A long table stood in the center. There were a couple of cabinets, a desk, and a scattering of chairs. They cleared the chairs out of the way, threw a sheet over the table, and transferred Alex to it.
Seepah checked him again. Removed a windup clock from a bag and took Alex’s pulse. The result brought a frown. He said something to Alex. Then to Turam. It looked like bad news, but there was no sign of a bullet wound anywhere. “You okay?” I asked Alex. “Other than the leg?”
“I’m a little out of it. But yeah, I’m fine.”
Seepah pointed at his wrist. Feel the pulse. I tried his forehead first. I’m not a medic, but he didn’t seem warm. I checked his pulse against the timer in the link, and it was normal. I shrugged. Told Alex he was fine.
They apparently assumed we were a couple and assigned us to quarters near the far end of the building. There were two rooms, one with a sofa and three chairs. The other was a bedroom with a double bed. They got Alex into it, his leg wrapped and immobilized. He didn’t wake up during any part of the process. Then, I’m pretty sure, they told us to let them know if we needed anything.
One of the women showed me where the ladies’ washroom was located. The men’s was immediately next door.
When it was over, and they’d left, I collapsed on the sofa. I’m not sure how long I was out. Eventually, I was awakened by a knock at the door. Someone delivering crutches.
I thanked him and put them in the bedroom.
The apartment, if you could call it that, was spare. But it beat living in the woods. We had thick curtains to maintain some privacy. Carpets in both rooms. The walls could have used a restorative, but they were okay. There was a sketch near the door, of an angel, or a goddess, a woman with spreading wings, clothed in a flowing garment, one breast exposed.
Turam came by to see how we were doing. He brought with him a tall, thin, scholarly woman with intense eyes. Her name was Viscenda, and it was fairly clear that she was the person in charge. The director or mayor of the community. Or maybe the queen. I could also see that she wasn’t excited about having people from outside interrupting the routine. She went through the motions of making us feel welcome. Then she left.