The Stars Down Under (20 page)

“How far are we going to go?” Myell asked.

Nam said, “As far as they take us.”

Bright birds fluttered in the canopy of leaves overhead. Myell wished he were a bird, light and quick, so that he could fly back to the Spheres and end this misadventure. Jodenny would love to be part of such a momentous occasion, this meeting of civilizations. But even she might find the heat and pace daunting, the prospects ahead a little frightening.

“We should have tried to escape when we could,” Nam said, swatting aside an oversize palm frond.

Come midafternoon, the rain forest abruptly gave way to ancient brown cliffs and the most terrifying view of an ocean Myell had ever seen. His legs froze up. All he could see was unlimited blue, the rising and falling water that stretched from a rounded bay and reached to forever. Salt water, billions of liters of it, heaving and frothing—

Nam's hand closed on Myell's arm. “You'd better walk over here,” he said, and blocked the view with his own body.

But not seeing the ocean made things even worse, because Myell could still hear it smashing on the rocks and spires and smell the salt and rot.

“Chief.” Nam slapped his cheeks lightly. “Stay with me, here.”

Gayle and the Aboriginals were walking north along the cliff line. Shark Tooth turned back to investigate the delay. Myell tried to suck in a steadying breath but his throat was too tight, his chest an aching block of frozen muscle.

Nam forced his chin up with the tip of his finger. “There's no ocean over there. You hear me? No ocean at all.”

“There's a
huge
fucking ocean there, sir,” Myell managed to say.

“I'm your commanding officer, and I say there's not. So move your ass, Chief. This nature hike isn't over yet.”

Myell managed to take one small step, then another. It helped that Nam's grip was still tight on his arm, and that there were plenty of dusty feet around to concentrate on. By the time Myell felt ready to walk on his own they were at a village set back a hundred meters from the cliff's edge. The salty smell was still prevalent, but now mixed with pine and smoke and burning meat and the sweat of unwashed bodies.

The village itself consisted of thirty or so leaf-thatched homes sharing gardens and pigpens. Naked children ran freely about, laughing and shouting. Adults wearing slightly more clothing rose from their chores and closed in on the returning group. Myell lost sight of Nam. Voices jabbered at him and fingers poked his white skin.

“Commander!” he yelled out, panicking.

“Stay calm!” Nam shouted back from somewhere behind him. “They're not going to hurt you!”

Easier to hear than believe. Easier to start swatting people away than stay still and endure. Hands pinched and probed, and bodies pressed close. He was going to drown in an ocean of people. Then Shark Tooth intervened with a bellow, brandishing his spear until the villagers pulled back. The next pair of hands that grabbed him belonged to Nam.

“They do love you.” Nam glared at the crowd. “What's your secret allure?”

“I don't know.” Myell tried to catch his breath, but he was shaking too hard.

Shark Tooth ushered them to an open-air structure where a palm-frond roof rose over the beaten sand of the floor. In the center was a squared-off area protected by large, rough stones and fallen logs. A stream of bare-breasted women with feathers in their hair brought food and other offerings—mango fruits, dried fish, small woven baskets, gourds of fresh water, totems carved from wood.

“We're honored visitors,” Gayle said.

“Some of us more honored than others, maybe,” Nam said.

Gayle tried to talk to their captors. Nam watched but didn't participate. Myell stretched against one of the logs, glad for the fresh breeze and the dimness under the thatched roof. His legs ached from the long march and a little rest seemed like a good idea. After a few minutes he opened his eyes. Darkness had come on. A large bonfire blazed in the sand far from the buildings.

“No dinner yet,” Nam said. “If these are my ancestors, they need some hospitality training.”

Myell rubbed the back of his head. “That almost sounded like a joke, sir.”

Nam said, “Don't get used to it.”

“Where's Dr. Gayle?”

“They took her.”

He sat up. “You didn't stop them?”

“She wanted to go,” Nam said grimly. “Thinks she can communicate with them, heaven help us.”

Six of the native women approached, shy and giggling. They carried basins of water and roughly woven towels.

“Washing-up committee.” Nam's hands clenched. “I hope this isn't the part where we get prepared for the ritual sacrifice.”

The cleansing consisted of having their feet and hands washed, rubbed with oil, and decorated with ocher. The thick, swirly designs made Myell's skin itch. After the washing, they were escorted out to the bonfire. Dozens of logs blazed upward from a tall pyre. Ten or so old men and women had arranged themselves in a semicircle nearby. Gayle was sitting on her haunches in the sand before the elders. White feathers had been tied to her hair and multiple strings of seashells hung around her neck.

“Been making friends?” Nam asked.

“Been trying,” Gayle said, her eyes on the oldest of the male elders. “I think he's their chief. The others defer to him.”

Shark Tooth approached and crouched before Chief Elder, who put a hand on his head. The villagers around the fire, sixty or seventy men and women and children, observed in silence. Gayle climbed to her feet. The only sounds now were the wind and the crackle of flames, the distant roar of the ocean, and the occasional cry of a baby who could not be hushed.

Chief Elder spoke a long monologue of syllables that shifted and climbed over one another. Shark Tooth turned and motioned for Myell to step forward.

“Do as they say, Chief,” Gayle cautioned. “Everything.”

“I thought we didn't know what they were saying,” Nam said.

Myell was presented to Chief Elder with a flurry of words. Shark Tooth's arms and hands made great sweeping motions from the sky as he spoke. He imitated thunder and then fell wildly, as if struck by lightning. The crowd murmured in appreciation, and Chief Elder gave Myell a speculative look.

Shark Tooth stood up. While he brushed dirt off himself, a tall figure moved through the parting crowd. It wore a silver helmet over its head, and a long white feathered cloak swirled downward from its broad shoulders.

A Bunyip.

“Christ,” Nam said.

The alien's skin was scaly, its black eyes narrow. It opened its jaw to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. The villagers murmured in appreciation. The Bunyip didn't seemed interested in Nam, but it stared at Myell. The clawed knuckles and scaly fingers flexed widely, their points dark with mud or blood.

“Their god,” Gayle said. “You've challenged him by surviving that lightning strike.”

“That's terrific,” Myell said.

Nam said, “Stay calm.”

Gayle continued, “The locals aren't afraid of it. It may have been here a long time. On the other hand, we're total strangers. They could kill us if we're perceived as a threat.”

The Bunyip turned to Chief Elder and spoke. Its chirps and cries were translated into the local language through a silvery box hanging around its waist. Chief Elder replied, his voice rich and loud. After more exchange, a young boy brought forward a cage of leaf fronds. Shark Tooth extracted a small green gecko and let it dangle by its tail.

Gayle said, “Small reptiles often symbolize evil. They'll want you to vanquish it.”

“Vanquish how?” Myell asked.

Shark Tooth handed the squirming gecko to Myell. Its legs and forearms scrabbled frantically in midair.

Shark Tooth gestured toward Myell's mouth and spoke several words.

Gayle said, “They want you to eat it.”

Myell thrust the gecko back toward Shark Tooth. “Absolutely not.”

Gayle came to his side and rested her hand on his forearm. Her voice was low. “Chief Myell. Swallowing it will demonstrate to the villagers your strength and courage. It'll raise you up in their eyes. Elevate all of us.”

“No,” Myell said.

Her expression sharpened. “If you don't, you could be endangering us all,” she insisted. “Commander?”

Nam hadn't taken his eyes off the alien. “I suggest you open wide, Chief.”

Myell held the gecko higher. He remembered Koo, the gecko that briefly had been his companion on the
Aral Sea
. She had enjoyed darting around the terrarium on his desk with her head held high and her tail curled up. Rumor had it that inductees in chief's initiation were made to swallow goldfish. A gecko, its arms and legs and tail scrabbling for purchase, would be a lot more difficult.

But he could do it, if he needed to.

If he wanted to.

The gecko totems in his dilly bag weighed heavily against his skin, so warm they nearly burned.

“No.” Myell dropped the creature to the sand. The gecko darted toward the trees and disappeared within seconds.

The crowd hissed at him, their tongues between their teeth. Gayle said, “You shouldn't have done that, Chief,” and Nam made a disapproving sound.

“I won't do it,” Myell told Shark Tooth.

The boy with the basket produced a second gecko, and Shark Tooth handed it by the tail to the Bunyip. The Bunyip swept it high into the air and dangled it over its cavernous mouth. The crowd murmured in anticipation. Myell's stomach twisted.

The gecko dropped into the Bunyip's mouth.

The crowd cheered.

The Bunyip held one clawed hand high in triumph.

“If that was the first test,” Gayle said, “you failed.”

Chief Elder spoke again. Shark Tooth smiled and repeated the instructions. The Bunyip bowed its head and began stripping off its helmet, cloak, and boots. Myell watched dumbly until Shark Tooth poked his arm and tugged at his clothes.

“Oh, come on,” he protested. “Naked?”

“We won't look,” Nam promised.

He told himself that stripping bare in this seaside village in front of total strangers wasn't so bad. No worse, surely, than the communal showers in Team Space barracks. But he could feel the hotness in his face as he left his uniform, boots, and underwear in the sand. A quick glance at the Bunyip proved that it too had external genitalia. Myell didn't want to know more than that.

Shark Tooth motioned to two young girls, who brought forth more ocher. Additional designs were painted on his back and stomach. He stood still, trying to ignore their close presence and bare breasts and the tickle of their fingers. He took several deep breaths and thought about supply regulations. About Senior Chief Talic's sequencing lecture. The bonfire was a blaze of heat and light in the corner of his vision.

“How you doing there, Chief?” Nam asked.

“Fine, sir.”

After the body painting was done, Shark Tooth led Myell and the Bunyip to an enormous tree that towered over the clearing. The trunk was smooth wood with thick knobs and dozens of branches. The branches arced off in crazy curves, heavy with fronds and vines. Myell could hear birds or small animals moving in its dark depths—snakes, maybe, or owls, or even monkeys. He tilted his head back and saw a few stars through the thick cover.

Shark Tooth spoke and motioned.

The Bunyip grabbed the lowest branch and started climbing.

“Good thing you're not afraid of heights,” Nam said.

Myell swore under his breath. Eating geckos. Stripped naked. And now he was supposed to climb a tree, bare-assed without even a flashlight?

“I want hazard pay,” Myell told Nam. He reached up for the branch and hoisted himself up. “A lot of it.”

The climbing wasn't hard, actually. The branches were closely spaced and thick enough to support his weight. The darkness hampered him, though, and the ropy vines were slippery. The Bunyip, already a few meters above him, didn't seem to be having the same problems. It climbed swiftly, making clicking noises as its claws dug into the wood. If this contest depended on being the swiftest, Myell was probably going to lose.

Without warning the Bunyip made a grunting noise and stopped. Myell immediately halted. He peered upward but couldn't see much. He shifted against the trunk and brushed his right hand across a large, leathery frond. Almost immediately his skin began to burn as if seared by drops of acid.

“Jesus,” he muttered. A stinging tree. Jodenny had been victim to a stinging bush during their trip out of Warramala. In the starlight his palm was already turning pink. He jammed his hand under his left armpit, but the burning eased only a little.

The Bunyip made another noise and began climbing again. Myell followed, being extraordinarily careful not to touch anything but the bark. As the fronds grew thicker and closer he had to shimmy his bare shoulders sideways, or pull his long legs close. Despite the cool air, sweat broke out on his back and neck. Far down below he could see Shark Tooth holding up a burning torch. Red light playing off Nam's concerned face.

“How's it going?” Nam shouted up.

“I hate this tree.” He didn't actually mean it. Then, suddenly, he did. The tree seemed alive—not in the botanical sense, but instead as a sentient, menacing being that didn't want supply chiefs climbing its branches. Animosity rolled out of it in waves like tiny gnats. The muddy green smell of it intensified, became acrid. The vines writhed in an unnatural breeze. Myell hoped it hated the Bunyip as well, that the hostility wasn't personal.

The Bunyip slowed down as it too tried to climb close to the trunk without touching the offending fronds. Its bulk and size worked against it. Within a few minutes, Myell found himself close to its scaly heels. He didn't particularly want to pass it, and didn't get the chance. When the Bunyip saw him it smashed its leg down and hit Myell's shoulder, trying to dislodge him.