"Following the Sun" - excerpt

 

by Madeleine Urban

 

Groaning, he pushed himself upright from where he lay over the burnt and blackened control panel. He took stock of the myriad aches and pains shooting through him before he glanced around carefully, looking for his companion in the dark interior of the small cockpit.

 

“Samuel?” he called out, his usually soft voice a hoarse rasp. When he heard no answer, he struggled to his feet, hissing and holding his injured arm against his chest. Grimacing, he figured it was broken. It could have been much worse, he thought ruefully. Looking around at the complete destruction – it really should have been. When he shifted his weight, sharp pain streaking along his leg made him peer down, and he could see a long, ragged tear through his blood-crusted trousers. No wonder he hurt so badly.

 

Stumbling out of the steel-gray cockpit of the shuttle, he leaned heavily against the flat, featureless wall as he made his way to the cargo bay, noting the sunlight pouring in through rents in the craft. Blinking in disbelief, he shook his head, amazed to be alive after the violent crash landing from space.

 

But he really stopped to stare when he found the heavy bulkhead hatch open. An explosion of verdant green surrounded the ship, lush trees rising far above the crippled vessel, the ground covered with vines and smaller plants erupting with riotous color. Birds flew about in the bright sunshine that poured into the jungle along the path the craft tore through the lush canopy.

 

“Jack, you’re awake!”

 

Shading his eyes, Jack looked out to see Samuel approaching from outside the ship, sun glinting off his short-cropped blond hair and pale skin. “You all right?” Jack asked, leaning heavily on the hatch.

 

“Yeah, a little banged up. You hit your head, though, and were out cold, so I left you where you were and went looking for signs of civilization. No luck,” Samuel shrugged as he stopped, knee-high in plants. “You’d think if I had to crash, I could have done it near a city.”

 

“Hell, Samuel, we were lucky to even find a planet, much less a city on the planet,” Jack said shortly, sinking to sit down, cradling his arm, taking pressure off his leg.

 

“Yeah, I know. We lost the navigational while in hyper - we could have come out anywhere. We were lucky,” Samuel murmured, stopping next to his longtime friend and sometime lover. “Is your arm broken?”

 

Jack nodded, looking a little ill as he sagged against the bulkhead. “Yeah. Hurts like hell.”

 

Samuel climbed up the damaged wing of the shuttle to the hatch and moved past Jack nimbly. “Let me get the first aid kit, and we’ll see if I can patch you up.”

 

Not moving from where he leaned against the frame of the door, Jack gazed exhaustedly into the jungle. He could make out every color green imaginable - and more - not to mention patches of color. Flowers, he thought. Fruit, more birds, the entire jungle seemed to be moving and shifting, teeming with life. Blearily he tried to focus closer, peering at the dust motes dancing in the unblocked ray of sunshine that enveloped him. He dragged a bloody hand through his hair, leaving a streak of red along his temple.

 

A moving shadow caught the man’s attention, and he turned his head to see...nothing. Closing his eyes for a moment, Jack decided shaking his head wouldn’t be a good idea. Obviously he’d suffered a concussion - his eyes would barely stay focused, and he knew he’d be better off staying awake for now. Dragging his eyes open, another shifting shadow pulled at his attention, but when he looked, he saw nothing there. The shimmering waves of warmth streaming from the verdant vegetation gave him an uneasy sense of vertigo.

 

“All right, we got painkillers, we got transderm patches, we got antibiotics,” Samuel said as he crouched next to Jack, startling the weary man. Samuel tilted up his chin, looking at his deep blue eyes critically. “You really took a hit to the head.” His light-skinned fingers lingered on Jack’s ruddy skin, stroking gently.

 

“Yeah,” Jack rasped, reaching to wipe away a bead of sweat, fingers tangling in his short, messy, sandy brown hair, smearing the blood. The humidity and warmth of the jungle seeped into him, making him even sleepier. “I keep seeing things moving out of the corner of my eye. Just shadows - the trees blowing or a bird or something - but it’s bad enough I can’t focus on any one thing.”

 

“Let me give you a couple of these shots, and I’ll see about your leg and arm,” Samuel said, going to work as Jack leaned against the bulkhead.

 

Peering again into the green, Jack’s mind wandered, and he admired the rays of sunshine, thankful he lived at all. The warmth here contrasted sharply with the freezing cold of space that often leeched through the bulkheads of the ship. He relaxed a little more as the shot of painkiller kicked in. Jack didn’t blink any more when shadows moved boldly across his vision. In fact, the hazy form outlined in the sunshine didn’t really register either as he looked at it fully, mind not comprehending.

 

Muttering, Samuel did his best to patch Jack up. He covered the long gash in his friend’s leg with transderm patches, though he couldn’t do much with the arm but wrap it tightly and hope the bones lined up right. It could be fixed once they returned to civilization. If they made it back to civilization, he thought darkly. Samuel glanced up at the other man, seeing the dull stare, and he frowned. Out of morbid curiosity he glanced over his shoulder to see if Jack actually saw anything. He froze in place, shocked.

 

A tall man, lean and muscular, stood about fifty feet away, silhouetted in the sunshine, his front in shadow. He wore breeches of rough material, some sort of belt slung about his hips and another about his chest. His bronzed arms and torso, both bare, bore stripes of paint tracked with sweat. His sharp-boned face, surrounded by a mane of long, sun-burnished brown hair, also bore marks of the heated humidity. Leather ties strapped a large knife to each thigh, and he supported a tall spear in long-fingered hands.

 

Samuel swallowed and glanced to Jack, whose eyes appeared glazed. He carefully shook the other man’s shoulder. “C’mon, Jacky, snap out of it, we have a visitor.” Then he glanced up again. “Visitors,” he corrected nervously.

 

Jack’s eyes slid closed as he tried to get his mind to focus on his surroundings. When he pulled them open again, several men stood not too far away, all in various states of tribal-style dress. “Samuel?” Jack asked weakly.

 

Gripping his friend’s shoulder reassuringly, Samuel stood, looking around at the men. The one still standing in the sun was the tallest and wore the most markings, and Samuel figured by his bearing that he led this band of warriors. The pilot rubbed his sweaty palms on his torn trousers and held up his hands, palms up, in a sign of peace, as he put his broad-shouldered body between Jack and the natives.

 

A quiet murmur passed through the armed men, and Samuel watched them all step back so that a slim man wearing a long, flowing tunic could approach. Watching him carefully, Samuel made no forward move as he studied the golden-skinned, wiry figure that approached, seeing a strong-featured face come out of shadow. He figured he could fight him - but he hoped to avoid that, especially since the muscled man on the rise watched him closely. They needed help, and he’d take what he could get, if only for Jack’s sake.

 

Jack watched the native stop a few feet away as he drew a deep breath and forced himself to stand, pushing himself up, still holding his arm. He wavered on his feet, though, and nearly yelped in surprise when the man reached out to steady him with a firm but solicitous grip on his good elbow. Samuel almost reacted badly as the native reached out to take Jack’s arm, but managed to stop his frantic response.

 

His smaller frame made this man less a threat, with his finer-boned structure and almost pretty tanned skin. Dark curls framed his face and brushed his shoulders. He looked over them both with animated dark brown eyes, studying them keenly, then said something over his shoulder. The voice rippled musically, a soft burr speaking a lyrical language. One of the other men stepped up and handed him a bag by its strap.

Jack watched, brow furrowing a bit until the native tilted up the bag to his mouth, drinking a bit of the liquid that poured out. Then looking at the both of them, he held up the bag. “San van tahla,” he said, offering the bag to Jack.

 

Jack glanced to Samuel, who shrugged very slightly. Nodding slowly, Jack accepted the bag, finding it heavy with liquid. He carefully raised it one-handed and nervously took a sip, utter relief filling him when he tasted pure water. He took several long gulps and offered the bag to Samuel with a smile. “It’s water,” he said.

 

Samuel smiled and drank as well, then offered the bag back to the man in the tunic. “Thank you,” he said clearly, bowing his head.

 

The observer standing a bit further away, still stoic, relaxed slightly as the slim man in front of them bowed in return, taking the bag. After a few more words, a smile, and a wave from the man with the water, chattering warriors waving their hands in an attempt to communicate surrounded Samuel and Jack.

 

The injured spacer sagged weakly, unable to believe their luck. Samuel also looked relieved, although he kept an eye on the tall leader, who stepped a bit closer out of the bright sun, studying them. He could make out his strong face now, and darting eyes that kept close tabs on the scene. Some of the painted lines Samuel now identified as scars. The man was obviously a fighter.

 

Within a few minutes, the man who spoke to them gave some obvious orders to the others, and they talked amongst themselves briefly before falling silent and looking to the leader. He nodded. The warriors took off, disappearing into the trees like mist, silent. Samuel and Jack watched in awe, unable to track the men through the foliage.

 

The warrior stepped forward and with one hand beckoned them to follow. Samuel looked to Jack, who gave him a helpless look.

 

“I’m going to grab a couple of bags, just to be safe,” Samuel said, making a “wait” motion with his hands. His jump-suited figure disappeared into the darkness of the ship.

 

Jack sank down to sit again, his feet dangling a few feet from the ground. When he looked up, the slim native stood next to him and pointed to his arm.

 

“It’s broken,” Jack rasped, grimacing in pain.

 

Placing the water bag on the craft’s wing, the native held out his hands as if to touch, waiting for Jack’s permission. Not sure what the man wanted, Jack nodded, using the chance to study the native more closely.

 

His skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat as if oiled, and he wore an open blue robe trimmed with gold over loose trousers to cover a lithe, lightly muscled body. A leather thong hung about his neck, weighted by a piece of copper beaten into a representation of a shining sun. He seemed younger than the others and bright-eyed, Jack noted distractedly. It made him feel old, broken down and out of shape with the several extra pounds he’d gained before this supply run gone wrong.

 

The native started at Jack’s shoulder, feeling along the shirt-covered arm, pressing gently but thoroughly. Jack hissed and went white when he prodded the break, and the man said a few words under his breath and started unwrapping Jack’s arm. Next he pulled out his knife, and before Jack could say a word, he split the sleeve of the spacer’s gray flight suit from wrist to shoulder.

 

Samuel stopped in the door, heart pounding and tree-green eyes wide as he watched. The native glanced at Jack and raised a brow. Confused, Jack frowned. Then the man jerked his arm with some force, and Jack yelled, nearly blacking out. Samuel jumped down next to the native, yelling as well.

 

Ignoring Samuel, the man prodded at Jack’s arm again and nodded, still muttering, and started to rewrap the arm. Jack, pale again, gasped for breath and opened his eyes. “Samuel, leave him alone. I think he fixed my arm.”

 

Looking doubtful, Samuel watched the man finishing wrapping. “You sure about that, Jacky?”

 

“Yeah, the pain’s already fading,” Jack said. “Now I’m just exhausted.”

 

As soon as those words left his mouth, two natives appeared from the trees carrying a stretcher. Samuel saw it and chuckled. “Well, look, great service here,” he joked, the exhaustion catching up with him also as adrenaline drained away.

 

Jack raised a bushy brow and laughed weakly. “Think we’ll get room service?”

 

The leader waiting to one side looked between the two laughing strangers and shook his head, although a tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He picked up one of the large bags Samuel brought and gestured for their benefactor to take the other as Samuel helped Jack onto the stretcher.

 

As they walked into the jungle, Samuel looked back at the cratered shuttle, suddenly wondering if he’d ever see it again.

 

==

 

The muscled warrior called another halt, and Samuel sat on a large rock, huffing for breath. Though he wasn’t overweight by any means, his heavier bones and stout build made exertion like this difficult. It was one reason he preferred outer space.

 

The men carrying Jack trailed a bit farther behind, taking their time moving through the underbrush, accompanied by the slim man.

 

Swallowing, Samuel tried to remember what the man said back at the ship. “Sanantall?” he muttered, looking at the dirt. “Zanantahl?”

 

“San van tahla.”

 

Samuel glanced up, seeing the watcher crouching a few feet away. Crisscrossing scars and swaths of paint decorated his body. More paint slashed across his cheekbones, and beneath it Samuel could see a firm jaw and intelligent eyes. The skin exposed to air gleamed with sweat.

 

“Sonvon talle,” Samuel attempted to mimic.

 

Tilting his head, the man’s eyes glinted with humor, and he said the words again, slowly. “San van tahla.”

 

“San van tahla,” Samuel repeated, much closer this time. Nodding, the native pulled a strap over his head and offered the water bag to Samuel, who accepted it gratefully. After several swallows, Samuel sighed and handed the bag back. “Thank you.”

 

“Taank ewe,” the warrior parroted.

 

Blinking, Samuel grinned. He repeated the words slowly, pressing his hands together and bowing slightly to convey meaning. “Thank you.”

 

“Taank yewe,” he said slower, eyes narrowing as he repeated.

 

Samuel nodded. “Thank you.”

 

The tall man smiled slightly and touched his chest. “Arl’ban.”

 

“Is that your name? Arrbuin?” Samuel asked, relaxing a little on the rock, rubbing the sweat from his forehead.

 

Tapping his chest again, the man nodded. “Arrrrlllbahhn. Arl’ban.”

 

“Arl’ban. Got it. I’m Samuel,” the spacer answered, tapping his own chest.

 

Arl’ban frowned. “Ayyeahmsmmel.”

 

Snorting, Samuel shook his head, telling himself to be more specific. He tapped his chest. “Samuel.”

 

“Shahmwoll,” Arl’ban repeated, peering at him curiously. “Sahmwell.”

 

Bobbing his head, Samuel smiled. “Yeah. Samuel.”

 

“Taank yewe, Sahmwell,” Arl’ban tried out the foreign words.

 

Chucking, Samuel nodded. “San van tahla. Arl’ban.”

 

The man made to hand back the water bag, but Samuel shook his head. Arl’ban blinked in realization, and he nodded, tapping the bag. “Tahla.”

 

“Water,” Samuel said. “Tahla.”

 

“Wahtuh. Tahla,” Arl’ban answered, fascinated. “Wahtuh.”

 

Samuel nodded and pointed to the native. “Arl’ban.” Then he pointed to the bag. “Tahla.”

 

The warrior broke into a wide smile so unlike his earlier self, striking Samuel speechless. Strong white teeth and full, red lips - and the spacer swallowed hard on burgeoning desire. Arl’ban tilted his head. “Wahtuh?” he asked, holding out the bag.

 

Samuel accepted the bag and took a drink, using the time to recover himself. Handing it back he said, “Thank you.”

 

“Simi san.”

 

Samuel peered at the other man. “See me san?”

 

Arl’ban pressed his hands together and bowed slightly in a perfect mimic of Samuel’s earlier movements. “Simi san.”

 

Samuel nodded and bowed slightly. “Simi san.”

 

“What are you two chattering on about?”

 

Samuel glanced up, surprised as Arl’ban jerked back and stood up, stepping away, suddenly back to the stoic warrior. The spacer looked to see Jack half sitting up in the stretcher as the two natives carrying him paused several feet away. “Hey, Jacky, how are you feeling?”

 

“Awful, but that’s better than I was. Did you strike up a conversation?” Jack asked, curious. The younger native stood next to him, a thoughtful smile on his face.

 

“Uh, yeah. This is Arl’ban,” Samuel said, gesturing to the warrior who listened carefully.

 

“Arl’ban, huh? Well, I hope you thanked him for his hospitality,” Jack said tiredly as he lay back down, carefully arranging his long legs.

 

“Simi san,” Samuel said, unknowingly drawing a slight smile from Arl’ban.

 

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s thank you,” the blond spacer replied.

 

Turning his head to look at Arl’ban, Jack nodded obviously. “Simi san,” he said. The man surprised him by offering a half bow in return.

 

Arl’ban said several words to the porters, and soon they moved Jack again. Samuel stood up to follow, but Arl’ban caught his arm and gestured for him to follow a different way. Wary and not happy about being separated from his friend in the darkening jungle, Samuel followed him for a few minutes through the heavy underbrush, only stopping when Arl’ban’s arm blocked his way.

 

“What the…?” Samuel swore under his breath – the warrior was not even a foot away, and they were of a size, both tall and wide, bodies tapering down from their shoulders. Then Arl’ban moved the wide fronds from in front of his face.

 

They stood on the side of a mountain, looking down into a heavily forested gully. Samuel easily could make out the scar torn through the trees by their crash landing, although he could barely see the ship in the distance. Arl’ban tapped his arm and pointed the opposite direction.

 

Samuel gasped as he saw they stood on the edge of some sort of city hidden in the trees except for a tall pyramid of stone that rose from the jungle. The city spread through the trees, a part of the wilds, myriad lights blinking out through the mists. Stunned, Samuel figured there must be thousands upon thousands of lights filling the valley.

 

“Lan’do’tay,” Arl’ban said.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Samuel breathed.

 

Arl’ban smiled, understanding the sentiment if not the words. “Chimi,” he said, beckoning for Samuel to follow. With one last look over his shoulder, Samuel did.

 

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