The Companion Page 2
By the end of the day, all four teams were back at the landing site. Samples collected showed promising amounts of radium and other radioactive decay products, indicating the likelihood of heavy metals in the area. Three spots on the grid read hot enough for further excavation. That left one team odd man out. I wanted the chance to do some seismic testing, so I opted out of excavation.
The next day the other three teams set out with the core drills that would sample down to 200 meters. My team headed up to the ridge where we had planted the beacon. We did two series of seismic tests, recording all results. Over the next two weeks, the teams obtained a dozen core samples with evidence of an ore vein that contained fuel grade thorium. We were all ecstatic. An analysis of the seismic tests indicated very dense rock close to the surface in the valley beyond our beacon. I wanted to do further tests there, but the mission commander insisted we help the other team catalogue and load their finds onto the ship. When that was complete, I pulled the commander aside. “My preliminaries show a possible huge deposit in the valley,” I explained, campaigning for another test to be done before we left.
“We have a decent find already and our launch window closes in another three days.”
“I just need to take a closer look. If I’m right, what I find could be a new fuel grade element that would fast track a return trip with a mining crew. That would mean more money for everyone. Two of us could be out and back in a day easy.”
The commander knew that the key to exploration teams making money hinged on getting the company to start mining as soon as possible. The more hard data there was indicating ore deposits, the sooner that would happen. “Okay. You and Bobbi can go. But make it quick. We launch on schedule, no fail.”
I headed off to find Bobbi before the commander could change his mind. We took a small rover sled to haul the seismic tester and were heading down into the valley beyond the beacon within two hours. Another two hours and we had arrived at the spot that indicated the densest deposit. Bobbi collected soil samples while I set up the pounder for another test. At this close range, once I set up a strong vibration, I could identify the ore composition using the sensors. Due to the density of the rock, I cranked the machine up to the maximum setting and let her rip. The pile driver reared back and let loose. The ground shook momentarily from the collision, while I steadied the sensor. Instead of the vibration dying off, there was a secondary tremor, then a third even stronger. Suddenly the ground opened up right in front of me, and Bobbi and the seismic tester disappeared from sight. Before I could call her name, I felt the ground fall away from under my feet and I was in free fall.
When I came to, I was lying on a rocky shelf along the side wall of a deep crevasse about 15 meters down from the surface. Apparently, the seismic pounder had triggered a localized quake on a fault line that had opened the crevasse. When I got my wits back, I called out to Bobbi but got no response. I never saw Bobbi again and I could only assume she had fallen to her death during the quake. I didn’t know how long I had been lying there. My head throbbed and I reached up to find dried blood matted in my hair where I must have hit my head. The crevasse was only a couple meters wide at the top, so I doubted anyone would easily find me. My radio had been smashed in the fall. I had to climb back to the surface. When I stood up a sharp pain shot up my right leg, and I collapsed back to the ground. My ankle was damaged, if not broken. On inspection, I found no bones sticking out, so I tore a number of strips from my shirt and tied them tightly around my ankle for support. The climb was slow and frustrating. I knew we had been closing in on our departure window as it was, and now I regretted having pushed the commander to make one last test. It took me six hours to work my way up the wall of the crevasse. When I finally crawled out onto the surface, I passed out from pain and exhaustion.
By the time I woke, it was nighttime. I remember seeing the unfamiliar stars above me as well as the dim light from Alpha Centauri reflecting off the cold dead planet that my moon orbited. I think I knew right then I was alone, but I shoved that thought deep into the back of my mind as I frantically struggled to my feet to look for our ship. An hour’s fast walking brought me over the next rise. The horizon was devoid of anything resembling our ship. The shock of seeing that the ship had already launched buckled my knees. I forced myself to continue to the landing site, hoping for a message or for some way to contact the ship. There were no supplies left near the landing site, so Bobbi and I must have been presumed dead. The ship sensors were probably unable to detect my presence while I was trapped deep underground in the crevasse.
I wandered aimlessly for an undetermined number of days, using up the last of my water and food. The dehydration, hunger and the growing certainty of my impending death was overwhelming, and I only remember jumbled bits and images from that time. Once my oxygen ran out, breathing the raw atmosphere gave me a headache, raced my heart and blurred my vision. Eventually there was nothing but blackness.
The first thing that rose up from that darkness was a nightmare about being lost in some alien jungle in the pitch black of night. Leaves and vines snaked toward me trying to grab a hold of my arms and legs. I tore free and ran in full panic. Orange eyes watched me from the trees, following me as I stumbled along terrified through the heavy jungle growth. My heart raced and I felt like I was choking. Suddenly I burst out of the dark jungle into the open, blinded by the brilliant sunlight.
As my eyes began to adjust and my pounding pulse slowed, it dawned on me that I was waking up. I was in a large rustic room furnished with a handmade wooden table and chairs. Sunlight streamed in through several large windows framed with rough-hewn wood. It reminded me of the cabin in Ontario where I spent summers with my family as a young boy.
“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” said a sensuous female voice from the other side of the room. By the time I was able to focus clearly, she was standing by my side. The orange eyes I had feared in my dream were now looking down at me, quickly melting away any remaining residue of my nightmare with an incredible warmth and caring I could feel reach down to my very soul. Of course, I had heard the cliche of love at first sight, but had always cynically associated the concept with fairy tales or teenage girls. From the moment I looked into those clear unassuming eyes I felt a connection more intimate and comfortable than anything I had ever experienced. The orange was more of a copper background flecked with gold that gave her eyes the illusion of being their own source of light.
“Where am I?” I asked, unable to process what I was seeing into any rational scenario.
“You are safe, if that is your concern,” said Sara, watching me closely. I could feel her desire to reassure me. Somehow, I knew I WAS safe.
“No, I—you—this place—I don’t understand,” I stammered.
“One thing at a time. You’ve been unconscious for nearly a week. You almost died. Let’s get you something to drink and eat. Then we can talk. Can you sit up?” she asked.
I realized Sara was right. I was weak from hunger and thirst, and could barely manage to prop myself up on my elbows. Sara brought me a cool drink of water in a mug fashioned out of wood. I drank greedily. The food she offered consisted of mashed up roots, not unlike potatoes. I ate two bowls of the stuff without so much as a pause to breathe.
Sara stood by patiently while I ate. Other than the color of her eyes, the rest of her looked very human indeed. Sara appeared to be a well-conditioned athletic 25-year-old Earth female, and her physique reminded me of a particular swimmer I had seen competing back at university many years ago. Long, loose and lean, she had been well muscled but still very feminine, especially whenever she shook her long hair out of her swimmer’s cap after a competition. I remember I had become quite a fan of the swim team in those days.
Having satisfied my hunger, I noticed a smooth brown stone tied with leath
er that hung down on my chest. I fingered its smooth surface and felt oddly comforted.
“You were clutching that stone in your hand when I found you. I thought it was good luck, so I tied it around your neck for safekeeping.” Sara beamed at me, clearly pleased.
I still couldn’t get over Sara being here on this moon. “I don’t understand where you came from. Our ship scans showed no signs of life on this moon, much less human life.”
“First of all, your scan technology leaves much to be desired. This valley is blanketed by radio waves that effectively hide it from most sensors. Secondly, I am not human, as I’m sure you can see. My people are from Cygnus III. I landed here in an emergency escape pod when our ship drive malfunctioned. I was the only survivor. That was almost 150 years ago.”
“That’s crazy. You couldn’t be over 30 years old.”
“I look this way because of my physiology, which differs from humans, as well as a unique effect this moon has on biological processes. The latter may also be why you weren’t dead when I found you. There is something here that slows the body’s biological clock.”
“You’ve been here alone for 150 years?”
“Does that