Walkabout - 1. Walkabout

One - Cowards

Two naked, young men on the cusp of adulthood sit close to one another in an open, seven meter fishing boat on a quiet sea waiting for a school of beslars to swim into their net. They’d settle for a school of grummies, but beslar patties fetch the best price on the market. Plus, grummies have a nasty habit of biting with razor sharp teeth even after hanging in the net for untold hours in the sun warmed water.

Although they have been friends since they can remember, their future together is very uncertain. One, with black hair already darkening his chest, Acam by name, boyo of Berac, will be taking the one to two year walkabout offered to young men when they reach the age of sixteen. He has looked forward to this since he knew he wasn’t like the other boys in the village. He is the taller of the two, though only by a centimeter. They are both tall and slender due to their planet’s low gravity.

His friend, Neri, boyo of Dene, has trothed his heart and soul to Riti, dottir of Doti. They will have a child who will grow into a fisher as is the custom in their village by the Western Sea. Neri with gray eyes is the stronger of the two with arms, back, and shoulders strengthened from pulling fish laden nets into boats since he came of age practically three years earlier.

They both see the tail fin. It stands nearly four meters out of the water and, although it is over a kilometer away, both of them know it is coming toward them. It’s been at least a couple of months since a grönk has done this to them. They haven’t come out as far without one of older fishers along for advice in nearly a year, so they’re still uneasy as the big fish approaches their small craft.

It is said a grönk can swallow a grown man whole, but every one knows that is not true. The fish bites first, taking off a leg, arm, or if the grönk is very big, as the one nearing them appears to be, fully half the body. They’ve heard the screams of hapless victims who had to go into the water to tighten a lose propeller, retrieve a net that came untied, or were stupid enough simply to swim in the warm water.

A grönk was bad, but it paled in comparison to a school of grummies that could devour a man in less than a couple of minutes, one small bite at a time. Their mouths weren’t big enough to bite off the tip of a child’s little finger, but there were hundreds of mouths swarming over the victim’s body nipping at every bit of exposed flesh.

They can see the dark shape of the grönk in the water. It is fifty meters out and closing fast. The enormous fin sinks into the sea as their boat rises out and rocks on the back of the fish. They lean to the high side as the boat flops back into the water with a swoosh and it’s gone.

“I wish they wouldn’t do that,” Acam says.

“They’re just as hungry as we are,” Neri says. “They have to eat like everything else on this planet.”

“I just wish they didn’t like us so much,” Acam says. “Do you think it’s gone?”

“Neither of us fell into the water,” Neri says. “There’s no reason for it to hang around.”

“I will be so glad when I don’t have to come out here anymore,” Acam says. He looks at Neri, but doesn’t see any support. If anything, Neri seems disappointed.

“I’m going to miss you,” Neri whispers as he stares at his feet. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Acam says, matter-of-factly.

“No, you don’t understand, I love you,” Neri says.

Acam looks at his friend as he’s never looked at him before. He’s been careful not to impose himself on Neri in fear of being rejected by the one true friend he’s had in the village. He can’t remember ever doing anything with or around Neri to imply he preferred boys to girls.

He even went so far as to go to the virgin festival dances every year. He was even paired with Dalen until her hand slipped when gutting a baby grönk and sliced her other hand clean off at the wrist. She was out behind her family’s hut and no one heard her call out. By the time she made it around to the cobbled lane, everyone could see she was trying to staunch the flow of blood out of the end of her arm, but she was already close to death and could barely stumble along. Her mother mercifully opened the artery in her daughter’s neck quick enough to ease her only child into the arms of the King and his Lady.

Acam still remembers crying nearly all night. He loved her, even though he knew then at twelve he had to leave the village when he was proclaimed an adult at the walkabout ceremony. Boys like him had no future in a fisher village. One inadvertent touch, one misplaced hand, or even a look at the wrong boy or man and he would be stoned. The penalty was as plain as the words in the book. A thief might be banished, an adulterer castrated, even a temptress might continue to live without her eyes, but a man with a wandering eye or misdirected hand was stoned. It was as simple as that.

Neri’s hand is now on Acam’s thigh. They’ve never touched each other like this. It is forbidden, after all. They learned the words, the prohibitions, by rote for their acceptance ceremony when they gave their foreskins to the village elders to proclaim their allegiance to the commune. “If a man should touch another man as to stir in either’s heart sinful thoughts both shall be taken to the furthest boundary of the commune and be put to death by the stones of the commune.”

“You’re not like me,” Acam says as he tries to remove Neri’s hand before he becomes aroused and something happens they will both regret. “You’re pledged to Riti.”

“I’m thinking I should go on walkabout with you,” Neri says as he wrenches his hand away from Acam and places it on his friend’s swelling member.

“You can’t do this,” Acam pleads as he tries to force Neri’s hand away from his hardening erection.

Unexpectedly, the boat’s power unit stops with a clunk and the ropes holding the net perceptively slackens. A squall line darkens the distant horizon. All thoughts of sinful pleasure are put aside. Neri hurries to the hand crank to pull in the nets while Acam kneels at the small control box on the side of the power unit. He retrieves his adjustment kit from the tool box and begins to unscrew the access panel’s fasteners. The power output dial shows a negative three point eight, far too low to give enough sustained boost to overcome the drag of water under the boat.

Once inside the control box, Acam plugs in the multimeter and immediately switches to amperage. It barely registers. Voltage is bouncing from eight to over one hundred. Eight is the critical value. Acam inserts the flat adjustment tool into the amperage adjustment slot and forces the tool to the left until a faint “click” is heard.

Though the water around them is still shiny flat, the squall line is quickly coming their way. Silver sheets of rain can be seen falling from black clouds. Acam watches the voltage meter as the needle steadies into a recognizable cycle from twenty-three to sixty-seven. He takes the amperage adjustment tool out of its slot and inserts the VAR tool. Amperage is still too low to register with any certainty, but that is okay for now.

“Have you got that old box working?” Neri asks. He’s securing the spindle with a chain. The last thing either of them wants is to have the wind cause the net to go back into the water. They need to head away from the storm and the drag of the net will cause the boat to take on water, which will slow them down even more. Too much water and they’ll capsize to be surely eaten by the grönk they saw earlier. It is said a grönk can hear a man fall into the water from a hundred kilometers away.

A clap of thunder causes Acam to look up from the control box. He pushes the VAR tool and hears six clicks. He pulls back ever so slightly until he hears one click. He checks the amperage meter. It registers three millionths of an amp. It’s still low, but not too low; at least it’s still in the safe range for further adjustments.

A distant rumble of thunder reaches them as Acam carefully inserts the photon tool. One mistake, one slip and everything within two kilometers is instantly vaporized. He switches on the photon scaling screen and watches the lower left corner where a faint red light glows steadily.

“By the King’s hand!” Neri exclaims.

Acam looks up and sees a grönk tail fin twenty meters out slowly circling the boat. He turns the photon tool to the right and the photon screen fills with blue light and the amperage meter registers fifteen ten thousandths. He pushes the big red reset button on the other side of the power unit. A steady hum can be heard as the propeller shaft begins to spin.

“Alright!” Neri exclaims. He pushes the control stick forward and their boat heads toward the distant shore, at least ten kilometers below the horizon.

“Why didn’t you go around the storm and set your nets, again?” Neri’s father asks in his loud booming voice.

Heads hang low in obeisance and humiliation as they kneel before the older man at the village wharf. A crowd gathers around them throwing sneers and jibes. Several of the closest have already spat on them.

“There was a huge grönk circling our boat,” Neri says.

“A grönk? The little boy fishers are afraid of a grönk,” the older man sneers.

A small boy, probably not much over five, walks up and urinates on Neri’s buttocks. The crowd cheers.

“You have shown fear upon the waters,” the old man proclaims. “I say these boys are cowards and deserve a coward’s punishment. What say you?”

“Whip them!” the crowd yells.

“So be it!” the old man says. “Bind them and hang them from the scales.”

Acam and Neri go limp as older fishers grab their arms and roughly tie their hands in front of them. There is no point in struggling and putting up a fight would only antagonize the fishers. Everyone is angry that the boys came back with an empty net. They are hoisted up and each is hung from the steel hook under a scale.

“For my son, the pilot, what say you?” the old man booms to the crowd.

“Ten lashes with nine tails!” some of the crowd yells.

“Five strokes with a delby limb!” another part of the crowd yells.

“Yay!” the crowd yells.

“Five strokes with a delby limb! Five strokes with a delby limb!” The chant goes up and around the boys. A youngster of about ten runs up with a stout limb covered with wicked, serrated thorns, most a couple of centimeters long. Someone tosses out a knife and a hand span is peeled off at the thick end.

“And, the geek? What say you?”

“Three and ten with their rope!” the crowd yells.

Neri, the pilot of the boat, gets the worst punishment and bright blood seeps from the many wounds across his back. Acam shares in the responsibility and the rough rope tears into the tender skin of his back, but at least his skin is not punctured and ripped by thorns. Both boys grit their teeth when they are splashed with buckets of salt water from the estuary. To cry out in pain will only affirm their weakness and garner more punishment.

They are released from the bonds and the village widows, Acam’s mother among them, take the boys to the widows’ hut to tend to their wounds. They will stay with the widows for two weeks, excluded from all village affairs including fishing. The scars will remain, though, constant reminders of their cowardice. They will never go out together. They will be split up, but at least Acam, a geek, will be free to repair the power units for only he holds the secret of the electron and the photon. Neri will never command, but live in drudgery, the labor of a coward.

A few days later, their wounds are crusted over with a dried healing salve. Acam and Neri sit side by side on a log far from the village and the incessant jibes of pestering children. The sun is setting in the distance. All the tears from their humiliation are past, but they are lower than a foul smelling carcass of a dead fish. They have no future in the village.

“Riti returned my pledge this morning,” Neri says. “Dene gave my inheritance to Galen, boyo of Galdo. I’m leaving with you.”

“Are you certain they’ll let us leave,” Acam says. “We’re free labor. There are fishers in huts across the village who need their boats scraped and painted, their huts sanded and stained. The village sewage pond is due a draining, it’s been years since it’s been done. All those pipes will need to be removed and cleaned. I’m sure the council doesn’t want to pay three tonnes of fish cakes to a crew of wandering geeks.”

“Dene said we’re to leave as soon as we’re fit,” Neri says. His hand is close to Acam’s thigh, but they’re too close to the village for it to touch, even slightly. “He said the council voted in his favor. If my mother had been a widow like yours, we would be staying and worked until we died of exhaustion. Or, as he said, one of us sinned and we had to be stoned. He said it just like that, one of us sinned and we had to be stoned. There are only four offenses that demand stoning, but only one that requires two to be stoned at once.”

“Then they know,” Acam says, sadly. “We are doomed.”

“No, we’re safe until our healing is complete,” Neri says. There is a hint of authority in his voice. “The law keeps us safe. At the completion of our separation, we will be given our walking sticks, knapsacks, a loaf, a few fish cakes, and a jug of water. I suspect we will be chased out by children throwing shit at us.”

“I’m surprised they don’t feed us to a grönk,” Acam says. Although he is a geek, they have taken away his official took kit. He still has a few spare tools, but not enough to repair a power unit without supervision.

“The law is on our side,” Neri says. “Dene made certain I understood that. I am his boyo. You only get one chance to make a baby here and he still is protective of me.”

“He whipped you,” Acam says, pointedly.

“Just as your mother will cast the first stone,” Neri says. “The law protects, but it also weighs heavy on parents of sinners. Did you forget all of our laws as you learned to be a geek?”

“I am only concerned with one law,” Acam says.

“As am I,” Neri says, with a wry smile.

Two - Flight

They won’t be chased by children throwing shit. Their gear is brought to the widow’s hut by Dene and Rico, Neri’s mother. Amal, Acam’s mother, brings the young men outside and helps them with their knapsacks, food bags, and water jugs. A full moon is high, promising to light their way to the furthest boundary marker. No one is on the lanes. All in the village are hiding behind the humiliation that two of their boyos are cowards.

“You have burned a hole in my heart,” Dene says. “I looked forward to teaching your boyo the skills of a fisher. Now I have a widow’s boyo to share my heart.”

Dene turns and walks into the night.

Rico comes to her boyo and wraps her arms around him. Mothers are like that. They are not bound by the hook and the net.

“I will miss you,” Rico says.

“And, I will miss you,” Amal says with Acam close to her breast. “Now go both of you. The hounds will be released at dawn. You have five hours to get across the river. Men will set out at noon to retrieve the hounds and slit your throats if you are still alive. If you have been treed, they will take you to the stoning ground and I will have to cast the first stone. Yes, we know. Now, take the road to the coast, maybe you’ll find a fisher village that will welcome you.”

Neither boy says a word as they set off. It is a three hour hike to the river, they don’t have three hours. They will have to run, but their sandals will protect them from the macadam. They’re wearing cotton shorts and pullover shirts, even though a fisher normally wears nothing. You have to be ready to get wet and clothes can get caught in rigging. Also, it is not unknown for a young boyo embarrassed by his meager member to be pulled overboard by shorts caught in an unwinding net and drowned, or worse, devoured by a school of grummies. Out in the world around them, though, there are those who do not understand the ways of the fisher and might have sinful thoughts; for, “As a man is in his commune he cannot be in the world where sin resides foremost in the minds of all men; therefore, protect your neighbor from sin as you protect yourself from them.”

They’re young and they run silently at a steady pace. The road is flat and straight almost the whole way to the river. There is a steady rise though, barely enough to notice with the eye, but steep enough to wear on muscles used to sitting in boats for hours on end. Two kilometers from the river a low range of hills rise out of the bleak landscape. Yet, the road barely meanders through the broad valleys before steeply dropping over the last five hundred meters to the river and the ferry.

At the start their only worry is a truck coming up behind them. Trucks do not stop or swerve. They move practically without noise, only the wind across their irregular service and the hum of forty-two tires on macadam belay their presence. Powered by four larger versions of the power unit in a boat, trucks seldom need refueling. The tires are taller than a man and the front section is practically a hut on wheels because truckers live in their trucks and have their families with them.

A truck comes into the village every couple of months to take away the two-meter shipping cubes of fish cakes, bone meal, desiccated guts, jugs of fish oil, and tanned grönk skin to be made into delicate gloves and other finery in cities beyond the mountains. In exchange, the village receives remanufactured power units, cloth for clothes they seldom wear, sandals for feet used to be being bare, kits for new boats and huts, food products that can’t be grown or made in the village, and miscellaneous nuts, bolts, pipes, structural members and whatever else the village needs.

You seldom see a trucker, though. They stay in their trucks the whole time the off-loading and reloading takes place. The few truckers that are seen, or members of their family, are strange people who wear one piece jumpsuits, speak with a barely understandable dialect, and don’t have any hair on their heads, not even eye lashes. They look at the villagers with strange eyes as if apprising them for a distant slave market because it is rumored truckers took children unawares. One old grammy saying goes, “Stay in your hut at night or the truckers will come and steal you away and have you for breakfast. If you’re a naughty child, they’ll sell you to a nabob across the mountains and you’ll be worked until you die.”

As they near the hills, Acam begins to hear a strange sound from an unrecognizable direction. Neri keeps the pace. It is a steady run, not too fast, not too tiring, but fast enough to get to the ferry before dawn; or, at least, to the hills which will mean they only have two kilometers to their goal. They don’t know where the hounds are being kept, though. They assume it is back in the village, but if the villagers are bent on capturing the boys, the hounds could be between them and the ferry.

“Do you hear that?” Acam asks. He looks to the right and then the left trying to discern the direction of the sound.

“That’s a scrub wolf,” Neri says. “He’s calling for his mate.”

“How can you be so sure,” Acam asks.

“Because I was a Junior Fisher and learned the way of the land,” Neri says. “A fisher has to be prepared to be swept onto foreign shores and survive until he can make it back to his commune.”

Acam glances to his left and watches Neri running beside him. He envies his friend for being so certain of the countryside around them. He is a geek. A holder of the secret of the electron and the photon; and, unknown to Neri and most of their commune, he also holds the fifth secret of the ’xrsc, only entrusted to geeks of the highest order.

When Neri was out in the surrounding savanna learning about scrub wolves, he was in a windowless room with a ’xrsc terminal, a box of parts, and various tools assembling power units, then disassembling and reassembling again and again. He learned it was the Argötteans who created the ’xrsc, a self-replicating, self-programming, fully networked non-anthropic robot devised to explore Professor Jooli psi’Nubi’psi’bdebebli’s complex dimensional propositions. Initially, the ’xrsc was simply a program given the task of figuring out how to build robots to exist in six dimensions. Given the Argöttean habit of making the complex more complex, the ’xrsc evolved into a variety computer paraphernalia including a working prototype of an extra-dimensional star cruiser. In a one night fete of self-reprogramming the ’xrsc not only achieved sentience, they became one ’xrsc that exists in as many as ten dimensions and can quite literally be everywhere in the universe at the same moment in time, which may or may not be now, but can be any time in the past or many possible futures.

Now, running for his life, Acam wishes he knew the sound he keeps hearing actually is a scrub wolf. He is certain it is the hounds and the feral call makes him run a little faster. At the brink of the pass they see the ferry waiting on their shore. Across the broad river, far in the distance, the lights of an approaching truck can be seen coming up the coastal road. They have to reach the ferry before the ferryman sees the truck and sets off without them.

Acam wants to call out, but waits for Neri to do so first. Something tells him they need to remain silent. Maybe it is the hounds following them. He picks up the pace a little more.

“What are you doing?” Neri asks as he seems to struggle to stay even with his friend. “I can’t go much further at your speed.”

“There’s a truck coming. The ferry will leave without us and that’s no scrub wolf. Those are hounds and they’re catching up to us. Do you want to fight dogs until men of the village catch us? Now, come on or we’ll be dead before the sun sets.”

They make the ferry, but set off at a run once they reach the far shore. They are certain the village men will pursue them once they come to the ferry and discover the cowards made it across unscathed. Acam is certain they won’t be safe until they’re over the high passes in the mountains.

After an hour run they come to a smaller macadam road branching off the main road. There is a sign:

“Well, we’re fishers, but what’s the other symbol?” Neri asks.

“There’s a truck stop up the road,” Acam says. “And, well, for truckers it’s a safe place to eat.”

“Let’s go, I’d like something besides fish cakes,” Neri says. “I want to try all the foods on the planet and when I find something I like, that’s where we’re going to stay.”

“You don’t want to eat at the truck stop,” Acam says as he starts up the side road. “Come on, we’ll follow the side road until we’re close enough to the mountains to go cross-country.”

“What do you mean I don’t want to eat truck stop food?” Neri asks. He’s still standing in front of the sign.

“Truckers are cannibals,” Acam says.

“What?”

“You remember all those old grammy tales about truckers stealing children?” Acam asks. He’s still walking away from Neri. “Well, they’re true. Given the chance, they’ll steal a child. Once a boy makes his pledge and gives his foreskin, he’s safe; unless he’s on walkabout, of course. Girls are never safe.”

“How do you know this?” Neri asks as he trots up to Acam and keeps running as his friend breaks into a steady pace.

“I met a trucker, once, who came to our village,” Acam says. “It was about three months after our pledge to the village. He showed me his truck. He wanted to put his seed in me, but I wouldn’t let him. He said he’d come back our way when I was older. His ’xrsc monitor told me a lot about truckers and a lot about that symbol.”

“They’ll kill us?” Neri asks.

“No, they’ll put our eyes out so we can’t escape,” Acam says. “If it’s a family we’re feeding, one of us could last about a month one limb at a time until they finally have to cut up the torso, but a single trucker can eat off someone our size for a long time. I’m sure a roasted thigh like yours will last a month with proper refrigeration.”

Neri doesn’t say anything further and Acam is thankful his friend didn’t ask about the trucker wanting to put his seed in him as it is something he has no desire remembering. They run along the road until they come to a stand of red firs. A game trail cuts off through the underbrush and they follow it and others that branch off up into the mountains. They stop at the top of a bare knoll and look out over the landscape below them.

At least ten kilometers away the river shimmers in the noontime sun. To their right, hidden by a low range of foothills, a column of smoke rises from the truck stop. They’re not certain they can see the sea as low clouds obscure their view to the south. To the north mountains rise up toward snowcapped peaks.

As the sun begins to drop over the horizon, their trail drops into a small valley where a small pond collects water falling from a cliff. Long needled blue pines stand at the shore and the boys decide this will be their first camp. They’ve come a long way and are exhausted from running across the plains and climbing up into the mountains. Tomorrow they’ll certainly be safe across the mountains, but they feel safe enough to stop for the night. It would be foolhardy to continue up to the pass in the dark. One misplaced step and they might fall hundreds of meters to their death.

After a light meal of a quarter fish cake, some dried fruit and vegetables, and a swallow of rice wine Neri found packed in his knapsack, the boys roll out their bedding and lay down for their first night away from the village.

“Acam?”

“Yes?”

“You said the trucker wanted to put his seed in you,” Neri says. They are on opposite sides of the dampened fire. “If he came here last month, would you go to him?”

Acam wants to say no, but that isn’t the case. Neri has no idea what it’s like to be different. Being a geek helped some, but people were beginning to look at him and he knew he had to leave. Maybe willingly going with a trucker wasn’t so bad.

“I guess, maybe,” Acam says. He doesn’t want to talk about this.

“Why would you? You could’ve asked me.”

“And be stoned?”

“We could’ve used the boat.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Dene told me sometime in my first year after giving my pledge. Well, you know they can’t be with their wives except at the fertility festival and then never afterwards. Dene said a man has needs and when you’re out fishing with no one to see, one man can help another.”

“Did you do it with your father? Did he put his seed in you?”

“He is my master fisher and I certainly owed him, but he is also my father. No, he didn’t put his seed in me.”

Acam wants to say something, but there is nothing more that can be said.

Acam’s eyes flash open. It is dawn. An arm is draped over him. A hard, stiffness is pressed between his buttocks. A quiet snore hisses in his ear. He is up and away from the blanket in a flash.

Neri looks up at him and smiles.

“What are you doing?” Acam asks.

“I was cold,” Neri says.

“Maybe you should’ve kept your clothes on,” Acam says as he becomes aware of his own nakedness, his own throbbing erection, and his need for morning relief. He walks away from the camp and sees it. “Neri! Come quick!”

Neri, who now has shorts on, runs to him and they stand beside one another staring at a recently severed human head forced down atop a thick wooden stake almost two meters tall. It is facing away from their camp.

“What does it mean?” Acam asks.

“A priest has been here,” Neri says. “He saw us lying together.”

“They’re here!” Acam exclaims.

“No, just the priest,” Neri says. He walks around the head and suddenly turns to retch. Acam is at his side soothing him with hands and a soft voice. He looks at the head. It is Dene, Neri’s father.

“Come on, we need to be out of here now,” Neri says as he stands up. “He stood up for me. He defied the priest’s desire to take us in the dark, unsuspecting. I believe his body has been left for the vultures and scrub wolves.”

“They aren’t going to stone us, are they?” Acam asks as they hurry back to the camp to begin packing away their gear.

“No, the priest will want us to beg for death,” Neri says. He looks at the waterfall, the still pond, and his friend. “Out here they will nail us between two trees and the priest will skin us.”

“We were six, right?” Acam asks as he begins to dress. He’s in a rush and gets his shorts on backwards.

“At least, it was a long time ago,” Neri says. He slips his shirt on and finishes Acam’s knapsack while his friend pays more attention to his dressing. “Did you ever ask why?”

“Amal simply said the fisher defied the priest,” Acam says. “I can still hear him screaming to be killed. They made us watch, I remember that. Everyone had to watch or be like, what was his name?”

“Melo, boyo of Mecom,” Neri says as he pisses in the fire pit. “He was a couple of years older than us. He screamed, too, when the priests cut out his left eye.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Acam asks as he comes up beside Neri and also relieves himself in the fire pit.

“Dene said the boy jumped into a school of grummies on his first trip out to fish,” Neri says. “You know, that was his father they skinned. The priests were going to castrate the boy. Well, they did it anyway after the skinning. We had to watch that, too. Remember?”

“He screamed nearly as loud as his father,” Acam says. “I can’t remember what the offense was? He couldn’t have been more than eight. What can an eight-year-old do to justify being castrated?”

“For a geek, your memory isn’t very good,” Neri says. “Come on, which way do we go?”

“You’re the Junior Fisher, I’m following you,” Acam says with a smile. They head around the pond and up a narrow gully near the waterfall. “I’m surprised the priest didn’t hamstring us.”

“There are two of us,” Neri says as he begins to scramble up the steep slope. “He’ll suffer for it. They’ll ask, if there’s an older priest with them. If he came alone, he might have feared one of us getting him before he could finish his bloody task. What’s that?”

They are not more than twenty meters up the gulley. Before them are foot- and handholds hewn into the rock face and they can see where rushing water has worn them away at the bottom. There is a cable affixed to the rock wall beside the stairs. It, too, has been severed by the flood.

“That’s a communications cable, probably a visual display of some sort,” Acam says as he kneels to exam the broken end of the cable. “It doesn’t have a sound cable, though.”

“We don’t have time to waste,” Neri says as he ties his walking stick to his knapsack. “Come on, we’ll climb the mountain.”

“What if this leads to a dead end?” Acam asks as he follows his friend up the rock face. They gain altitude quickly.

“Then we’re dead,” Neri says.

The hewn ladder takes them to a path and a bridge over the rill atop the falls and then around the mountain, ever climbing upward. Where it is too steep there are more holes in the rock. Below them they can see smoke from a campfire. It is at least three kilometers from their camp. Although nothing is said, both hope the villagers are sleeping in or debating whether to follow the priest for his grisly task.

After three hours of climbing they come to a cave or, more precisely, a tunnel carved into the pink granite mountain. They look down and, although they are quite high up on the rock face, they can see men milling around their camp. There is no question they are being followed. They have to enter the tunnel and hope for the best.

Once inside, the light quickly dims into blackness. About ten meters in the tunnel turns sharply to the left and then slopes downward for another ten meters. The boys know they can’t go back so they continue on in silence as if not to disturb whatever is waiting for them at the end of the tunnel.

After what seems like an hour, but is probably a lot less, soft red light seems to seep into the tunnel from somewhere near the bottom. A few more meters and they come upon the pit. It is nearly two meters across and of unknown depth as circles of red light descend until they wink out beyond their vision. There’s a ladder, a real metallic ladder attached to the wall. The tunnel goes no further.

“Well, I guess we go down,” Neri says.

“You sure we need to?” Acam asks.

“Go back to the villagers and plead your case to the priest. Maybe they’ll listen to you as they pound the nails through your hands. Maybe they’ll care a little as the priest begins to peel the skin away from your body.”

“Okay! But you have to go first,” Acam says.

They descend for a long time, resting now and then when they come to a grating where the ladder ends and another begins on the opposite wall. Above them there are only circles of red light diminishing into blackness. After a very long time they come to a grating where there is a metallic door in the wall and another ladder descending further into the pit.

“What do you think?” Neri asks.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyway to open it,” Acam says. He pushes the door and it gives a little. He pulls back his hands and the door swings back toward them. Soft green light fills the space.

“Well, that certainly did something,” Neri says.

There is a long passageway behind the door. In the distance they can see another door.

“Well?” Acam asks.

“It’s either that way or further down the hole,” Neri says. “I’m in favor of trying that door.”

“Lead on, Junior Fisher,” Acam says.

After they’ve gone a few steps inside the new tunnel the door behind them quietly closes with a soft click.

“You remember how you opened it?” Neri asks.

“Yeah, I pushed it from the other side,” Acam says.

The next door has a handle, but it is locked. There is no sign of a keyhole that might be picked. There is, however, a small metallic pad inset in the wall even with the handle. Acam places his hand on it and a series of soft clicks can be heard followed by a faint buzzing sound. Acam presses the handle down and pushes the door open.

“How’d you do that?” Neri asks.

“I’m a geek,” Acam says matter-of-factly. “I studied locks, too. I’m surprised it opened so easily. There’s usually some sort of security lock-out mechanism.”

They step into a small, squarish room bathed in blue light. On the far wall there is a window with a small shelf under it. They walk into the room and the door closes.

“How did it know we were through?” Neri asks.

“There are sensors in the floor and walls,” Acam says.

Three - Prison

“Welcome to Level A, Quadrant 4G-BKY-72, Reception,” a voice says from the window.

“By the King and his Lady, what’s that?” Neri asks.

A flat, smooth metallic face stares at them from the now open window. Where the right eye should be there is small array of five small glass circles. Where the left eye should be there are two larger glass circles arranged vertically. There is a hole, not more than a centimeter across, where the nose should be. The mouth is a small speaker. Antennae of various lengths and widths sprout from the sides and top of the head.

“You didn’t learn about those in Junior Fishers?” Acam asks.

“Do you know what it is?” Neri asks.

“Yes, I’m a geek. Geeks know about this sort of thing.”

“Technician, the word is technician,” the face says.

“Tekni, what? I’m not familiar with the word,” Acam says. “This is a B’na.”

“Buh, what?” Neri asks?”

“BIH-nah, it’s spelled B apostrophe na, they are robotic beings and are very, very old,” Acam says.

“Oh, you’re from outside,” the B’na says. “Oh, dear, this is most irregular. One moment please.”

The window closes and goes opaque.

“We’re in for it now,” Neri says.

“What’re they going to do to us?” Acam asks. “Kill us? We’re dead if we go back.”

“If we can go back,” Neri says. “Are they safe?”

“Oh, yes, quite harmless, they serve, that’s all. It is said, or rather I read, that they were alive once, like us and other human forms, but they evolved into metallic beings.”

“My back itches,” Neri says.

“I have some salve in my bag,” Acam says, “but you’ll have to take off your shirt. It might be better to wait, if you can.”

“I have to pee,” Neri says.

The window opens and the B’na says, “Facilities humans and other mammals are on your left through the yellow door.”

There is only one door and as every surface in the room is a shade of blue, both Acam and Neri put down their packs and open the door. The facilities are bathed in yellow light. In the corner there is an area of the floor that is about a meter square with a raised rim about five centimeters high. Within the square the surface slopes toward the center where there is a flat, black, circular surface about five centimeters in diameter. On the walls there are flat metallic surfaces with labels in a variety of languages and character sets.

Acam looks around the room and goes to the right side wall to one of the flat surfaces. The label says, “Toilet.” There are no buttons to push. So, Acam pushes the label. There is a soft whirring sound as the flat panel slips into the wall and a porcelain toilet drops out.

“There you go,” Acam says.

“What would I do without a geek?” Neri says as a stream of piss splashes into the bowl.

“Pee in the corner,” Acam says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Neri says. “Join me?”

“I have something more to do,” Acam says. “Can you go out and wait for me? Or, do you want to watch?”

“I’ll let you do what you need to do,” Neri says.

After Acam finishes, he goes out to the reception room. Neri is sitting on a bench beside the far wall. All their gear is beside the bench.

“You know, Neri, it amazes me that after over a hundred thousand years of technical advancement we still haven’t improved on the porcelain receptacle. The toilet has basically remained static.”

“I didn’t see anything to clean with,” Neri says. “You did clean yourself?”

“Oh, yeah, the toilet did it when I was done. You should try it. It was an experience.”

“Boys? A B’na will be along shortly,” the B’na at the window says. “Quarters are being arranged. An environment suitable to your species is being generated in the surrounding areas. Have a pleasant day.”

The window went opaque.

“He seemed nice,” Neri says.

“She, it was a female B’na,” Acam says.

“How do you tell the difference other than having to be a geek?”

“You’ll figure it out, but they’re basically sexless anyway.”

“Ah, there you are,” a B’na says at an opening beside the window. The wall seemed to have simply dissolved and a B’na is standing there. “I am Two-five-three-seven-eight, but I will answer to ‘Eight,’ if you desire. If you will please accompany me, I will escort you to our new quarters.”

The boys follow the B’na along many corridors, down and up elevators, down and up flights of stairs, and sat in a tubular vehicle that seemed to be moving. There were no windows to see out of and no perceptible noise other than a humming sound that Acam acknowledged with a soft, “Aha!”

“What?” Neri asks.

“You wouldn’t understand and it would take too long to explain,” Acam says, smiling.

“Why are all your geek things so secret?” Neri asks.

“You are a technician?” Eight asks.

“I’m a geek,” Acam says. “And, certain things are not meant for the less educated.”

“Fish guts!” Neri exclaims. “I am not less educated. I’m a fisher, something you know very little about, but which is open to any and all who want to learn. You’ve been out with me and other fishers on boats with unreliable units. Why weren’t you paying attention to our fishing?”

“I was too busy making certain the units didn’t stop suddenly,” Acam says.

“Like ours?” Neri asks.

“I was distracted by someone’s sinful intentions,” Acam says.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I was distracting you,” Neri says.

There were more corridors, elevators, stairs, and another tube. It seemed like hours and was probably most of a day until they arrive in an area that is very much like Level A, Quadrant 4G-BKY-72, Reception, except the light is a subdued red when they first enter. After a few moments the light slowly increases in brightness and changes to yellow.

“This is your common area,” Eight says. “Your quarters are through this door.”

The room is small with a couch along one wall, two ’xrsc workstations along the opposite wall, a small, square table with four chairs in the middle. The wall across from them has three doors. The left one leads to a small kitchen and an alcove for the B’na. The middle door leads to a toilet, lavatory, and shower. The other door opens onto a room similar in size to the main room. In the middle there is a raised platform on which are spread a number of blankets of various material and thickness.

“What is that?” Neri asks.

“A bed,” Eight says.

“What’s a bed?” Acam asks. He leans down and touches the soft, padded surface.

“Where you sleep,” Eight says.

“We sleep on the floor on reed mats,” Neri says.

“We don’t have reed mats,” Eight says, “but I can have the bed removed and you can sleep on the floor.”

“We’ll try the bed,” Acam says. “It’ll be an adventure, though there is only one. I guess we’ll have to sleep together, Neri.”

“You are lovers,” Eight says. “Lovers sleep in the same bed. Yes?”

“We’re what?” Neri asks.

“Lovers,” Eight says. “Your profiles clearly state you are in love with each other. We expected you would want to sleep together to enable you to have sex with each other.”

Acam and Neri look at each other. Acam slowly shakes his head and walks out of the room.

“You are not in love?” Eight asks. “We can only make approximations, but your relationship and capability numbers are very close to those of lovers of your kind.”

“We have never had sex,” Neri says, “with each other.”

“Oh, dear, this is quite irregular,” Eight says. “We assumed because your numbers were so close. Your interactions are quite intimate. Your eye movements are relationally aligned. Your pheromone production is mutually responsive and receptive. Your auras interact at high ultraviolet levels. Your minds may not have accepted this, but your bodies are in love.”

“Too bad Acam didn’t hear this,” Neri says, “he would have understood everything you just said.”

“He is a trained technician,” Eight says. “He has the correct gene combinations to understand universal complexities. His ’xrsc numbers are quite high. It is a shame really. He could’ve gone far.”

“A shame? Why?”

“Both of you are to die,” Eight says. “When and how has yet to be determined, but you will die. You violated the Treaty by leaving the surface. We wanted you to be comfortable in your last days.”

A gray light seems to float about the bedroom like a thick summer fog. Acam and Neri lie uncomfortably on the soft bed. They have been in confinement for months, but without the sun traversing the sky, they’re not certain how long it’s been. Their days are unremarkable in the sameness.

Rising when Eight increases the intensity of light in the bedroom, the boys bathe and eat a light breakfast of fruit and fish cake. Four hours of study at the ’xrsc terminals follow. They primarily learn the Argöttean language, which may help them in their defense, if they have one. Neri is also learning basic technologies. Acam is delving deeper into the ’xrsc view of the universe.

Another light meal of bread and a drink Eight prepares from fruit and protein marks their noon hour. That is followed by walk and run in their immediate area of about ten kilometers of corridors, stairs, and a broad catwalk across an open space of indeterminable dimensions.

They return to their quarters for what Eight calls entertainment. Growing up in a fisher village, entertainment meant listening to a gray hair tell tales of fishing exploits, joining friends for singing and talking, taking walks along the beach alone or with a friend, or simply sitting quietly and contemplating the day’s events. Children, of course, played children’s games, but as one got older games were replaced with increasing amounts of work.

Entertainment in their prison includes reading books, some dating back to before humans discovered the secret of intergalactic travel, that are presented on the ’xrsc terminals. They also watch what Eight calls movies and sitcoms that are shown on a large visual presentation screen in their main room. Their laughter seems to ease the strain of confinement.

Then there is a short nap followed by another light meal of fish cakes, vegetables, and some sort of beverage Eight prepares. What normally would be an evening talking with family and friends is taken up with whatever the boys want to do, whether that is another walk, some entertainment, or, as is often the case with Neri, more studying while Acam reads something.

Although they sleep in the same bed, neither boy has approached the other for intimate contact. Their compatibility numbers may be high, but their wills are not giving in to baser desires. To Neri, Acam seems very standoffish. He knows his desires, but without Acam’s acquiescence to their mutual needs, nothing between them seems to have a chance of occurring.

“Eight told me an Argöttean member of the penal colony’s administrative council will visit us tomorrow,” Neri says. He has purposefully lain closer to Acam tonight. He wants to be in a comfortable touching distance. He wants to be able to roll over and press his naked body against his, as Eight says, lover. He constantly wonders what it’s like to have someone who loves you as much, or more, as you love him. Neri knows he loves Acam.

“Yes, something about determining how they will kill us,” Acam says. “I guess the Treaty, whatever that is, lays out a number of methods, some more horrendous than others.”

“What can be more horrendous than skinning or stoning?” Neri asks. An image of that one skinning flashes into his mind and he rolls against Acam’s side. “Hold me, please.”

Acam rolls onto his side and pulls Neri in against his body. For the first time in their lives, they are on the verge of something special and neither of them knows what to do next. Also, neither of them wants to acknowledge the fact their erections are more than touching. They hold each other for comfort against the thought of what might occur to them in the future, but their bodies have other ideas.

Without thinking, Acam feels his lips press down onto Neri’s. Their tongues meet and begin a dance as ancient as the human species. Hands begin to explore bare skin seeking places of erogenous excitement. They are new to this and have no knowledge of how to love another man. Their bodies, though, seem to be going about whatever needs to be done quite well, thank you.

Their orgasmic explosion occurs almost simultaneously and jets of semen warm the small gap between their abdomens forcing them to hold each other tighter. They remain close, arms entwined, lips and tongues playfully enticing, as sleep slowly overcomes them and they drift off to peaceful dreams filled with their love.

He is tall, though not as tall as Acam or Neri. He is older with gray hair at his temples, eyebrows as bushy as a small nissi tree, face lined with age, and teeth chipped and discolored from years of overuse. The green cast of his skin is a bit disconcerting as are the three long fingers, the tattooed ring on each thumb, and one ear is missing.

“Soog bne’Sooli’chi’chi’,” the man says as he walks into the common area with a B’na escort. “I am your councilor. I will determine the best course of action to ameliorate your death sentence. Is there somewhere more comfortable where we may talk?”

“I suggest the boys’ dining table,” Eight says, pointing to the boys’ door.

“Yes, I suppose that would be best,” Soog says, holding out his left hand, clenched into a fist. “You are Acam, the technician.”

“I am a geek,” Acam says, tapping the bottom of Soog’s fist twice and then once on the top.

“Yes, we understand your term is slightly different,” Soog says. “More of a colloquialism, I believe. And, you are the fisher, Neri.”

Neri looks at the extended fist and then at Acam.

“Ah, yes, unfamiliar with Argöttean greetings,” Soog says. “A shame really, there is so much you could learn. Have you boys thought about how you might want to die? We do have a number of options open to us, if you qualify that is. Dismemberment is so messy, I don’t know why they put it in the Treaty, but if we can’t come up with something unique about your case, I’m afraid you’ll have to resign yourselves to that eventuality.”

“What is that, exactly?” Neri asks. He sits at one side of the table. The other two, Acam and the Argöttean, sit across from each other.

“The executioner, using a number of different blades, severs your limbs,” Soog says, officiously. “Fingers, toes, forearms, lower legs, upper arms, upper legs, the hips, the abdomen, and finally the head. Since you are humans from Earth, he or she, you can choose which you prefer, will remove your penis and testicles first. Argötteans males don’t have that problem, but the females do. Different evolutionary paths, I guess. I’m not much into comparative physiology, but I understand some people are.”

“To think we were running away from men who were going to skin us alive,” Acam says.

“What do you mean?” Soog asks, with a voice of concern. “Do you want me to understand that you entered Glandar’s interior because you were escaping from men who were going to kill you?”

“Yes, they would’ve nailed us between two trees and the priest would’ve skinned us,” Neri says, his face cold as stone. “They say by the time he begins to work on your penis, you’re begging, pleading to him to kill you outright. If the crowd also begs with you for mercy, the priest will disembowel you and then cut out your heart.”

“That’s horrible,” Soog says, aghast at what he hears. “Why were they chasing you?”

Acam begins their tale at the beginning, in the boat. All through the story of their punishment, escape, and eventual discovery of the steps and tunnel, Soog carefully takes notes and asks questions to clarify certain points. About halfway through Acam’s narrative, Soog asked his portable ’xrsc terminal if it is recording. A soft voice said something somewhere in the room and Soog smiled.

“Well, this changes everything,” Soog says when Acam finally gets to the end. “Obviously, you are not in violation of the Treaty, per se. It is true you left the penal colony by entering the planet’s interior, but you were not trying to escape confinement. That is very important. Obviously, we’ll have to convene a meeting of the parties to the Treaty or, at least, try to get a quorum of the remaining members. This is not going to go over very well at the office. Argötteans pride themselves on neat and tidy paperwork.”

“What penal colony?” Neri asks.

“The Glandar Prisoner of War Penal Colony,” Soog says with an air of authority. “That’s what all of Glandar is. This entire planet is a prisoner of war camp.”

“We weren’t in a war,” Acam says, or maybe asks.

“No, but your ancestors were,” Soog says. “Of all the Earth originating humans within the neighboring fifty-three galaxies, the penal colony has the only ones still alive. You might say you’re hostages against further hostilities between Earth originating humans and the rest of the universe.”

“How were we supposed to know this?” Acam asks.

“Oh, you weren’t supposed to know,” Soog says. “There are those who do know, but they are few in number.”

“Is this why we haven’t advanced and our histories have remained static?” Acam asks.

“Oh, you’ve been using a ’xrsc terminal, haven’t you?” Soog asks. “We knew a problem might arise with a techie, such as yourself, that delved a little too deep into ’xrsc lore. They give it out so freely. They simply don’t have any sense of secrecy in such matters. Well, there’s nothing to do about that now. Suffice it to say, more than likely you will not be executed, but I can’t make any promises. We’ll have to figure out what to do with you since you have been inside, so to speak.”

“This planet is artificial, isn’t it?” Acam asks.

“Oh, yes, there wasn’t a planet in the right spot,” that earlier voice begins from somewhere in the room, “so one had to be put here. It is easier to build one than relocate one, although that is possible. We needed one that would support Earth originating humans and that meant putting in the correct biologies. A fish may exist in five different evolutionary systems, but Earth originating humans can only digest Earth originating fish, sheep, cattle, goats, broccoli, cabbage, lettuce, and all those other foods. Soog bne’Sooli’chi’chi’ prepare for your departure.”

The Argöttean stands up, takes one step toward the couch, and disappears.

“By the King and his Lady, where’d he go?” Neri asks.

“Obviously, a ’xrsc portal opened,” Acam says.

“A what?” Neri asks.

“The ’xrsc inserted a portal and he left,” Acam says.

Neri looks stunned for a moment then his face brightens with realization and he says, “Oh, Flatland! I read that, or, rather the ’xrsc terminal presented it to me. It was an extra-dimensional portal, plus it must have had some technical aspects which made it practically invisible to our eyes. Can color do that?”

“You’ve been reading too many technical manuals,” Acam says. Suddenly he gets a serious look on his face and he takes Neri’s hand in his. “We forgot something this morning. Last night was so unexpected, but I wanted that moment to happen so much I didn’t know what to do. Neri, I pledge my troth to you.”

“Oh, Acam, you’ll make me cry,” Neri says happily with brightened eyes. “I accept your troth and give mine willingly to you.”

The room darkens and little spots of colored light begin to float around the room. Soft music from some kind of instrument unfamiliar to the boys envelopes them and they begin the dance of lovers. They are close, their bodies touching. Their eyes are locked and slowly their mouths come together. Hands move about young bodies as pieces of clothing begin to drop onto the floor.

They are naked and don’t know what to do about it. They know the Fertility Dance and have seen husbands and wives perform it at the village’s Fertility Festivals at the equinoxes, but their erections do not have the corresponding hole for proper insertion. Yet, that doesn’t seem to matter all that much as hips grind into hips and erections rub against young skin.

A crescendo begins, but to the boys it only heightens their need for each other. Lips and tongues parry, nerve endings respond to probing fingers, and erections swell in anticipation of orgasmic relief. The shudder is almost simultaneous, again, and the dance slowly stops as the music softens and fades away.

“As soon as we’re out and find a village that accepts us, we’re going to have to find a priest,” Acam whispers.

“We don’t need a priest, we have each other,” Neri says.

Four - Freedom

“Neri! Wake up!” Acam whispers as he jostles his lover.

There is no response from the sleeping body beside him.

“Neri! Wake up!” Acam whispers a little louder with a stronger jostle against a bare shoulder.

“Come on, Acam, we’ve done it enough tonight,” Neri yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll do you again in the morning.”

“You sound like a tired wife,” Acam whispers. “Now, get out of bed. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Neri says as he turns over. “It’s night, we’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“We’re leaving,” Acam says, “and how do you know it’s night?”

“The lights go out at night,” Neri says. “Besides, we can’t leave. We’ll get in trouble.”

“What are they going to do? Kill us? They’re liable to come in here tomorrow morning and vaporize us with a Gurdian molecular disassembler. It will probably be a euthanasia model, but might be an execution model. Either one is portable.”

Acam gets out of bed and slips on a shirt, shorts, and sandals. He retrieves their old knapsacks from a closet and makes sure their water jugs are full. The food bags are empty, but they’ll be on the surface in a few hours. He’ll steal some food from the pantry on the way out.

Neri turns over and looks at Acam getting ready.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Neri asks. “But how do we get out? You don’t even know which way is up.”

“Up is that way,” Acam says pointing to the ceiling. “I know how to get out of here. I’ve studied the schematics, including the active one that shows where we are and the shortest distance to the surface. Unfortunately, we can’t go straight up because there’s an ocean directly above us. Now, hurry up, I don’t want Eight coming in here and volunteering to help us escape.”

“As funny as that sounds, it is true,” Neri says sitting up. He stands up and puts on shorts, a shirt, and sandals. “Okay, I’m ready to go. I’m going to miss this place. That bed was getting to be very comfortable, especially when, well, you know.”

“Why does it bother you to talk about us having sex?” Acam asks as he hands Neri a knapsack and walking stick. “It’s just me in here.”

“I guess it’s all that training, all those hours studying the book,” Neri says. He comes close to Acam and they kiss. “Lead the way my dear geek and if you get us out of here I’ll let you do me for a change.”

“I don’t want to do you,” Acam says. “But if you insist on taking my seed, then use your mouth. I’m more than satisfied with you in me. It makes me feel complete and whole. Do you understand?”

They kiss, again, and Neri says, “Yes, I think I know what you mean. I think I get the same or a similar feeling when I’m in you. It’s as if that’s how the King and his Lady want us to do it. And, Acam, I don’t mind taking you in my mouth. I enjoy that. Now, let’s go before we end up on that bed doing it again. I mean, by the King, three times in one night is a bit much.”

Eight is waiting for them in the kitchen. He has food bags filled with fish cakes, energy bars, and packets of a high protein mix to add to their water.

“They know you’re leaving,” Eight says. “But the Argötteans do not. They will be angry, but the ’xrsc will let you go. I cannot go with you, my place is here. Be safe and may the Good Mother see you to your journey’s end.”

“Thank you, Eight,” the boys say practically in unison. In turn, they both hug the B’na and turn to leave.

“Oh, Eight, how long have we been here?” Neri asks.

“Thirteen months, two days, twenty-one hours,” Eight says.

“I hope wherever we’re going has a good New Year’s celebration,” Acam says. “I could use a party about now.”

They head out across the catwalk and at the end instead of turning right, Acam opens a door to another catwalk that has a slight upward slope. At the end there is a landing of sorts suspended by cables from somewhere far above them. Another catwalk with a more pronounced upward slope leads to a door and a tube.

They store their gear and take their seats. Acam pushes some buttons and the door closes. They hear the humming sound and Acam watches a small screen and slowly counts each time the screen changes from blue to red to blue. At the eighth change he presses a yellow button below the screen and the humming slowly goes away. After a few moments the door opens and the boys exit the car.

There is another tube aligned at a forty-five degree angle to the one they just used and Neri follows Acam to it. As before, they store their gear, take their seat, and Acam operates the controls. This time Acam ignores the red screens and counts the yellow screens which occur after eleven red screens. After a count of nineteen yellow screens, the next change is green and Acam pushes the green button.

“We’re within two kilometers of the surface,” Acam says. “There is a reception area through that door, but we’ll use the service port over there.”

He leads Neri to a small door held shut with eight hinged bolts. Acam takes the large spanner out of his knapsack and loosens the bolts. After the last one is removed, he takes hold of the two chrome handles and pulls the door away from the wall. A loud hiss is heard when the seal is broken and the air pressure from outside equalizes with that inside. Inside the door there is a hole with a ladder going up and down.

“How far do you have to climb?” Neri asks.

“We don’t climb,” Acam says. He presses the keys on a pad next to the ladder and after a few moments a platform enclosed with a metal railing rises out of the hole. “Get on. This’ll take us to the top. After that there is only a couple hundred meters to a tunnel entrance like we came in through.”

“Great!” Neri exclaims.

The platform doesn’t rise at a great speed and it takes nearly an hour for them to reach the top landing. A cool breeze can be felt as they enter the last tunnel to freedom. After walking about a hundred meters the lights in the floor go out and they know they’re close to the exit. All is dark, though, meaning it is mostly likely night outside.

“Be careful because I believe this tunnel ends at a cliff face, but there is supposed to be a ladder down to a path,” Acam says as they continue walking in the dark.

“Shit!” Neri exclaims as he suddenly senses his left foot isn’t going to stop at the tunnel floor, but is quickly dropping into nothing. He swings his body around as hands reach out for something, anything to grasp to stop his fall.

“Neri!” Acam screams as he becomes aware that his lover is falling out of the tunnel. A loud thud is heard, quickly followed by a gasp.

“Oh, shit!” Neri hisses. His right hand is grasping a rod. His left hand quickly searches for a handhold and finds another rod a little lower.

“Are you alright?” Acam yells from the tunnel entrance barely visible in the dark, moonless night.

“Yes! I’m okay,” Neri calls out. “I think you were right about the ladder, but I think I might have broken something. We won’t know until we can get down. Be careful of that first step, it’s a killer.”

Acam opens his knapsack and feels for a short metal tube. It’s an emergency light. It’s very dim, but it should be bright enough for him to figure out how to get on the ladder.

After quite a few rungs, the sole of Acam’s right sandal bumps into Neri’s hand.

“Hey, careful,” Neri says.

“Are you okay enough to descend to the bottom?” Acam asks.

“Yeah, sure, I think I can do that,” Neri says.

“You don’t sound okay,” Acam says.

“Do we have a choice?” Neri says. “I can try to climb down or just let go and fall to my death. Either way, we get to the bottom.”

“Please, be careful,” Acam says.

“Yeah, sure, be careful,” Neri says. “Well, I’ll be a dead grönk! I was only one step from the bottom. Wait a minute, we don’t have a lot of space between the cliff and the edge, maybe enough to put our packs down and rest. Oh, shit, I hurt!”

Acam follows Neri to the ledge and after putting their gear to one side he begins a careful search over Neri’s body to ascertain the number of injuries.

“Ow! Watch it!” Neri exclaims.

Acam retrieves another glow tube from his knapsack and examines Neri’s leg.

“There’s a terrible gash, but I don’t think it’s broken,” Acam says. “You probably have a few wrenched muscles and scrapes, but this appears to be your worst wound. If you can stand on it in the morning, we’ll start down to the valley below.”

“Acam?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sorry it’s turned out like this? I know you were looking forward to a nice walkabout by yourself, but it’s all gone wrong since I touched you and said I love you. Sometimes I wonder how things would’ve turned out if I’d have kept my mouth shut and my hands off you.”

“You love me and I love you. What more do you want? A rock could fall off the mountain above us and crush us to death, but I’m so happy to be in love with you that wouldn’t matter. Now we’re free to do whatever we want.”

“As long as we stay away from priests and their evil book,” Neri says.

“And we continue to love each other,” Acam says.

“Yes, love,” Neri says. “If my leg didn’t hurt so much and we had a little more space, I would love to love you right now.”

“And you were complaining we did it too much,” Acam says.

“I can never get enough of your love,” Neri says.

“Yes, love.”

_________

Notes:

’xrsc: The ’xrsc name is derived from the Hreeli’xrsc’psi Manufacturing Consortium.
Fish guts: As this story takes place somewhere in the far future, current Earth based languages probably will have evolved. I wanted Neri to exclaim, “Bull shit!”, but realized that expression may not exist in their future. So, he uses the closest equivalent phrase for his culture.

Soog bne’Sooli’chi’chi’: The traditional Argöttean naming scheme is primarily matrilineal. The first component is the surname. The second two components are the mother’s family names; mother first, her grandmother second. The last two components signify a person’s standing within a family’s hierarchy.

spanner: Of all the tools used by all sentient species anywhere in the multiverse, the spanner seems to be universal. There always seems to be a loose nut somewhere that needs tightening and the only tool that is always available in every tool kit is the spanner. It might be the wrong size for the job, but it is always ready to try.

 

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