I turned and followed Zammis into the forest.
The days that followed were full of wonder for Zammis. For me the sky was still the same, dull grey, and the few variations of plant and animal life that we found were nothing remarkable. Once we got beyond the scrub forest, we climbed a gentle rise for a day, and then found ourselves on a wide, flat, endless plain. It was ankle deep in a purple weed that stained our boots the same color. The nights were still too cold for hiking, and we would hole up in the tent. Both the greased tent and suits worked well, keeping out the almost constant rain. In time there were clumps of scrub trees resembling the ones above the cave. We made camp there, giving us some relief from the winds.
Nights we slept. Days we hiked and talked and sang. I avoided teaching Zammis some of the raunchier barracks ditties I knew, but there were others. Some of them made me think. I mean, just how long had it been since anyone worked on a railroad? The song wasn’t particularly meaningful or catchy, but there it was, being sung by a Drac on a planet that never even saw a railroad. Verily, someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah, playing on the old banjo.
In response to Zammis’s question, we stopped in one of the scrub clumps, pitched the tent, and began constructing a banjo. With the end off a hollow log, some snakeskin stretched over it, a stick scraped flat for a neck, and some dried and twisted snakegut for strings, we had something that sounded like a ukulele being played underwater. I remembered how to tune a uke, but I couldn’t do more than play a few chords and pick out a couple of tunes. Back on the hike, Zammis took to the crude instrument and began picking. Soon we had music for our singing, and I broke down and taught Zammis just a couple of the not too raunchy service songs.
It was fun. More fun than I remembered ever having with anyone. If we never found a ship or anything else, I could happily spend the rest of my life hiking with Zammis, singing songs, and seeing what’s over the horizon.
One day, shortly after beginning our day’s hike, we saw it. A ship. It screamed overhead, then disappeared over the horizon before either of us could say a word. I had no doubt that the craft I had seen was in landing attitude.
"Uncle! Did it see us?"
I shook my head. "No, I doubt it. But it was landing. Do you hear? It was landing somewhere ahead."
"Uncle?"
"Let’s get moving! What is it?"
"Was it a Drac ship, or a human ship?"
I cooled in my tracks. I had never stopped to think about it. I waved my hand. "Come on. It doesn’t matter. Either way, you go to Draco. You’re a noncombatant, so the USE forces couldn’t do anything, and if they’re Dracs, you’re home free."
We began walking. "But, Uncle, if it’s a Drac ship, what will happen to you?"
I shrugged. "Prisoner of war. The Dracs say they abide by the interplanetary war accords, so I should be all right." Fat chance, said the back of my head to the front of my head. The big question was whether I preferred being a Drac POW or a permanent resident of Fyrine IV. I had figured that out long ago. "Come on, let’s pick up the pace. We don’t know how long it will take to get there, or how long it will be on the ground."
Pick 'em up; put 'em down. Except for a few breaks, we didn’t stop—even when night came. Our exertion kept us warm. The horizon never seemed to grow nearer. The longer we slogged ahead the duller my mind grew. It must have been days, my mind gone numb as my feet, when I fell through the purple weed into a hole. Immediately, everything grew dark, and I felt a pain in my right leg. I felt the blackout coming, and I welcomed its warmth, its rest, its peace.
"Uncle? Uncle? Wake up! Please, wake up!"
I felt slapping against my face, although it felt somehow detached. Agony thundered into my brain, bringing me wide awake. Damned if I didn’t break my leg. I looked up and saw the weedy edges of the hole. My rear end was seated in a trickle of water. Zammis squatted next to me. "What happened?"
Zammis motioned upward. "This hole was only covered by a thin crust of dirt and plants. The water must have taken the ground away. Are you all right?"
"My leg. I think I broke it." I leaned my back against the muddy wall. "Zammis, you’re going to have to go on by yourself."
"I can’t leave you. Uncle!"
"Look, if you find anyone, you can send them back for me."
"What if the water in here comes up?" Zammis felt along my leg until I winced. "I must carry you out of here. What must I do for the leg?"
The kid had a point. Drowning wasn’t in my schedule. "We need something stiff. Bind the leg so it doesn’t move."
Zammis pulled off its pack, and kneeling in the water and mud, went through its pack, then through the tent roll. Using the tent poles, it wrapped my leg with snakeskins torn from the tent. Then, using more snakeskins, Zammis made two loops, slipped one over each of my legs, then propped me up and slipped the loops over its shoulders. It lifted, and I blacked out.
On the ground, covered with the remains of the tent, Zammis was shaking my arm. "Uncle? Uncle?"
"Yes?" I whispered.
"Uncle, I’m ready to go." It pointed to my side. The skins from the tent were covering a lump of something. "Your food is here, and when it rains, just pull the tent over your face. I’ll mark the trail I make so I can find my way back."
I nodded. "Take care of yourself."
Zammis shook its head. "Uncle, I can carry you. We shouldn’t separate."
I weakly shook my head. "Give me a break, kid. I couldn’t make it. Find somebody and bring 'em back." I felt my stomach flip, and cold sweat drenched my snakeskins. "Go on; get going."
Zammis reached out, grabbed its pack, and stood. The pack shouldered, Zammis turned and began running in the direction that the craft had been going. I watched until I couldn’t see it. "Remember me," I whispered.
I faced up and looked at the clouds. "You almost got me that time, you kizlode sonofabitch, but you didn’t figure on the Drac… you keep forgetting… there’s two of us."
I drifted in and out of consciousness, felt rain on my face, then pulled up the tent and covered my head. In seconds, the blackout returned.
"Davidge? Lieutenant Davidge?"
"Waa." I opened my eyes, watched the lights swim around for a bit then settle down into something I hadn’t seen for four Earth years: a human face. "Who are you?"
The face, young, long and capped by short blond hair, smiled. "I’m Captain Steerman, ship’s medical officer. How do you feel?"
I pondered the question and smiled. "Like I’ve been shot full of very high-grade junk."
"You have. You were in pretty bad shape by the time the survey team brought you in."
"Survey team?"
"I guess you don’t know. The United States of Earth and the Dracon Chamber have established a joint commission to supervise the colonization of new planets. The war is over."
"Over?"
"Yes."
"How? What about Amadeen?"
"The planet’s quarantined. I don’t know what they’re going to do down on Amadeen, but the USE and the Dracs are out of it." Something heavy lifted from my chest.
"Where’s Zammis?"
"Who?"
"Jeriba Zammis; the Drac that I was with."
The doctor shrugged. "I don’t know anything about it. If there was a Drac with you when you were picked up, I suppose the Draggers are taking care of it."