DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of the Star Wars Universe, concept, or characters, and pay homage to the Great Flanneled one for his vast creative powers. I own the characters I have created, as far as they do not infringe upon his rights. No copyright infringement is intended and I do not profit from this work. I'll put them back when I'm done, George, honest.
A couldn't believe it.
I, the original hard luck case, had won a cruise! And not just any cruise, but a cruise to the Bahamas over winter break! When I received the tickets in the mail, I couldn't believe that it wasn't a scam of some sort; I didn't recall entering any such contest, However, after calling the companies involved and making myself a complete nuisance to all concerned, everything turned out to be legitimate. So I ran up my credit card making the usual silly cruise purchases and arranged the time off for a long-overdue vacation. Between working on the hospital floor as a tech and taking courses for a masters' degree in management, I had been running too fast to have had time or money for any kind of recreation but an occasional SCA event or weekend with the family.
After the initial wretched bout of seasickness, I really enjoyed the ocean journey. The islands were lovely, the weather was warm and clear, and I reveled in being able to freckle and bake in the sun on the deck while reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time in years. It was sheer luxury to read something I wanted to read instead of the bloody organizational psychology and statistics texts that had formed my intellectual experience for the past two years. I'd be done after this semester, though. I hoped it would be worth it. Now, I just enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of the ocean, and paid little mind to the children playing tag on the deck, except to smile at them and throw their ball back when I caught it. It was nice to see kids who were healthy and happy, for a change, too. I did a lot of thinking, about what I wanted to do and be. It was more time to myself than I'd had in a long time.
On the fifth night, I awoke when I was jolted out of my bed by a swell. It was abrupt and frightening, and I had a horrible headache – I'd had a couple of drinks the night before, but it wasn't a hangover. I looked nervously out the tiny porthole over my bed (don't call it a window), and saw rain lashing at the glass through a pea-soup fog like nothing I'd ever seen before. The wind howled like cheap special effects, and I had a hard time standing up with the bucking of the deck.
Wonderful. I win a cruise and the boat gets sunk from beneath my feet. Only me. Good going, Kyle. I heard a dreadful noise from the boat itself, and felt the vibrations of the support members groaning through my own bones. Not good. On a hunch, I grabbed my bag and started putting some essentials into it. A change of clothes or two, medication, my stethoscope and cuff. Odds and ends that I thought might be helpful. My books and CD player, all my extra batteries. It was no surprise to hear the alarm, and a few moments later the pounding at my door. It was my steward. Poor guy, he's younger than I am.
"Miss Kyle, we need to abandon ship." He looked pretty green. I could identify; I wasn't too happy myself, and I felt like a refugee from a bad sitcom. However, I was determined to survive this and tell my grandchildren about it. "Please stay calm, and go up the main stairway topside to the boat deck," he said. "Be sure to hold on to the railing, it's rough going." It sounded like a canned response; he seemed close to panic himself. Nope, this is not good at all.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, more because I wanted to stop the theme from Gilligan's Island from going through my head than the thought that I could do anything. He smiled, looking very much like a frightened ten-year-old in the dim flashing red light.
"No, Miss, we all have our jobs to do. You need to go to your lifeboat now."
"Right you are, then. Be careful, Steven." But he was already knocking on the next door, looking more scared than ever. I grabbed my bag, my fiddle, and my guitar case what harm could it do? They'd tell me if I had to leave it behind, and the cases are waterproof , and went up the stairs.
Topside on the boat deck was a madhouse. Many people had evidently decided that now would be a good time to panic, and were busy doing so in their own way. The crew had a hard job getting them to even track the idea of putting on their vests, much less proceeding to the boats themselves. The same children who had played tag around my deck chair the day before were now either screaming in fright or hanging on to their parents watching silently, frozen in terror. The adults, mostly in the same kind of shape, preferred to be shouting and angry because they thought they shouldn't show fear around the children. Add to that the mad tossing and howling and the cold rain of the storm and the fog, and it was chaos. I went over to the loading point and wound up helping people climb into the covered lifeboats, making sure children and the elderly got in. The boats looked more like torpedoes than dories, and were launched over the side by gravity. I could hear one of the boys I'd grinned at from my chair shout "Wheee!" as the first one fell away. That kid will go far in life, I decided. Or to prison. I hope he'll live that long.
In a brief calm and break in the fog, I saw us suspended across the top of two huge swells, and heard and felt in my teeth a horrible screech as the skin of the ship started to visibly deform. We were in trouble; it must have been the very bones of the ship twisting and breaking beneath us. I didn't know much about ship design, but I did know that they weren't made for that kind of punishment. The engines must be out, or not strong enough to steer us into the weather so we'd avoid this kind of stress on the vessel. I was beginning to prefer the Gilligan's Island theme to hearing "La mer ne pardonne-pas" going through my head... I started handing in the children and adults faster, and soon the second and third boats were away. The captain came out, and I assumed that they had loaded the rest of the passengers.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted. I could barely hear him over the gale, but the purser tried to come to my defense. I couldn't hear him, either.
"I was -- " I began, timidly. The blow took the words from my mouth, but it didn't matter. By now he was screaming into my face, and I flinched at the fury in his voice.
"I don't care if you were repairing the engines with a bloody nail file, bubble gum, and duct tape!" he roared. "You should have gone on the boat you were assigned! Do you know that you wouldn't live ten minutes in this water, young woman? What the hell were you thinking?! There are no heroes on my ship! Now you'll have to come into the open boat with us," he said. "Secure your bags. The fourth closed boat won't deploy." He ranted for a few moments more, but I think he was speaking Dutch. Good thing. I didn't want to know – the words I did understand from my German course in high school and being stationed in Germany were definitely far from complimentary.
The correct answer to that diatribe was, "Yes, sir." Damn. He's entirely correct; I'm a complete idiot. That's what I get for being noble and stupid. The old man is right as usual... No good deed goes unpunished. I stepped into the boat where I was told, and used the tiedowns to fix myself and my bags securely to the bench as directed. I was soaked through and shivering by this time, and I put on the hardhat they gave me and sat in the stern of the boat holding on to the bench line. I had a feeling that this was not going to be a pleasant ride.
As we began to cast off, the ship rolled madly and I saw the spars that held the boat together finally splinter and snap in the gale. The boat plummeted into the roiling sea, and I was about ready to kiss my stomach -- and yesterday's dinner -- goodbye. I was amazed that I wasn't afraid. All I thought about was holding on, as the boat was tumbled and tossed on the huge storm swells and pummeled by debris from the ship, which had totally capsized. It was like swimming in a jacuzzi filled with ice -– endless bubbles came up out of the sea, and the ship slipped under the water incredibly quickly. The lifeboat was inflatable, and it bucked and came up out of the water just in time, as I doggedly hung gasping to the line that kept me inside. I shook the stinging salt water out of my eyes and looked around, trying to catch my breath in a foul stinking breathless miasma.
There was no one else in the boat.
I screamed for the dozen or so crewmembers, who had stood by, done their duty, saved my life and so many others, as the air seemed squeezed from my chest. I wiped my eyes and willed myself to see them in the fog and the sheets of cold rain, reached with oars and threw lines for countless things I desperately imagined were hands but always turned out to be pieces of random flotsam. Ten minutes? It had to have been been longer than that by now… I finally collapsed onto the bench amidships and wept, until I grew lightheaded and passed out.
I woke an indeterminate time later, on a sea still tossed by heavy swells. There were a few inches of water in the boat, but otherwise my luggage and I were unharmed. I looked around and saw that there was still fog, but the sea wasn't looking like Mountain Dew anymore. It was easier to catch my breath, and I found the first aid kit and the compass. Well, I was pretty likely to hit land if I headed west, though I was damned if I could remember – oh, right. Ten years of Girl Scout memories trickled into my aching head, and I went astern and started the outboard, and headed west… until the compass went haywire, spinning around like a gyrotop. I got dizzy again, and wondered if I'd gotten some water in my ear or something, though I couldn't feel it. Then all I could do was hold on to the boat, to anything I could, because I felt like I was floating in midair for a bit, like the boat was spinning, and I was spinning the opposite way. I fainted again, I think – or suddenly I knew which way was down, there was bright sunlight, and a breeze that smelled like it might be from land. The air was clear, and so was the sky – it was a unique sapphire blue that I'd never seen before. The sun seemed to be in the wrong place, and I wondered how long I'd been unconscious. There seemed to be something odd about the whole thing, but I couldn't put a finger on it. And I still had a wretched headache.
I found the GPS receiver, the radio beacon, and the charts, finally, and found that the bloody receiver was broken, showing a red "No Signal" indicator. The beacon had an on switch, and I pushed it. It started beeping and blinking in what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring manner. Hopefully, the thing was now busy screaming for the Coast Guard to come get me. Damn. Well, back to compass reckoning for now. If I don't find my way back to some kind of civilization, I'm going to start talking to myself. More.
The compass seemed to be all right, but as I headed west it started to act up again. I didn't like that idea, so I headed into the breeze that smelled like land, which turned out to be approximately north. Perhaps I'd been blown to another set of islands, or even back to the Bahamas. The sea looked different, but after a storm all sorts of odd things would come out of the depths. I didn't know a thing about that.
I almost wish I could say that I was in the boat for days and nearly died of dehydration, to inject more drama into the story. No such luck for me. Actually, after I took a seasickness pill and some Tylenol, bailed out the boat, and steered into the breeze, it took me only a couple of hours to reach land. It looked like a rather large island, and I was able to see a fair amount of debris on the beach. I pulled into a small cove and found what I hoped was a good landing place. A dozen or two rather creepy looking crustaceans scuttled out of the way. "Drawn butter is all that's standing between you and death," I said to them, just to hear a voice. They weren't impressed, and I didn't blame them. I didn't feel very impressive. I pulled the boat up onto the beach; it was amazingly light. It seemed to be midafternoon, and I decided to figure out what I had and what I could scavenge from the stuff on the beach. I'd no idea what – or who – else was on this island or whatever it was, and I wanted a little bit of time to settle before I had to explore and confront it or them or whatever. It had been a very long day and I hadn't even had breakfast yet.
In the compartments forward and aft below the benches, I found basic survival gear and a very complete first aid kit, which I found to be the doctor's bag, with everything from painkillers to antibiotics to surgical instruments. There was even a small microscope. This wasn't the Beagle, what was this about? Well, it could be useful. All I had were a few rope burns, cuts, and bruises from being hit by debris and knocked around the lifeboat when it rolled, and I cleaned and dressed them carefully. Even though I still had the headache from hell, I couldn't find any bumps, bruises or cuts on my head. I didn't know whether to be thankful or not, but I could get around under my own steam after regaining some land legs. However, I also found that I was weak and shaking with dehydration and hunger. No sense in getting sick, my chances aren't good as it stands. I found the rations – the boat had been built to seat 16, providing they were well acquainted, and had supplies for 5 days – and ate a food bar, drank a couple of bags of water. There was a purifier, a still, and iodine tablets as well; I would be okay for water for the foreseeable future. I dozed off where I sat for a few moments, exhausted. I woke with a start. I couldn't sleep now; I had to figure out how I could be safe in a strange place. There was a flare pistol, but that was all there was in the way of weaponry aside of the little axe and shovel in the tool kit. I built a signal fire the first night, with all the dry wood I could lay hands on easily, out on the beach. I managed to pull the boat up past what passed for the high tide line and turn it over with a tarp on the ground, pitched face first on the tarp and slept like a dead thing.
The next morning I felt like I'd been run over by a herd of elephants. The adrenaline had worn off, and it seemed I'd grown a few dozen new places for pain overnight. It was midmorning when I stirred, by my best reckoning. My watch, predictably, had given up the ghost in the storm. Not many watches are designed for a hurricane blow. It took me a little while to loosen up enough to crawl out from under the boat. Had to figure a better place to sleep, it smelled awful under there. Yucko.
I had another ration bar for breakfast. Made me think fondly of eating the rubberized shell of the boat. Hey, maybe sushi – no, I didn't think so. I didn't recognize any of the fish I'd seen so far, and I wouldn't know a yellowtail if it squirted me in the eye – and no wasabi. Tough luck, Kyle. No one had come to rescue me; I saw nothing on the horizon, even with the field glasses so thoughtfully provided by the emergency tool kit. To hell with the handsome knight on a white charger, I'd take two rednecks in a leaky dinghy now. I couldn't see a sign of any life as far as I could see with the glasses. Well. I did my best to secure the boat and the equipment, and decided I should explore a bit. I changed into my other clothes behind the boat, for some strange reason. But they were dry and the shoes were good sneakers, and the walk would do me good. Maybe I'd go around the cove and find some marina or something. Wouldn't I feel dumb then?
I took what looked like a deer path into the center of the island, walking cautiously up the hillside into what seemed to be a forest. I'd never seen trees like those before, though. And the critters that either skittered out of my way or looked curiously at me were not familiar. Guess I'd gotten behind in my Wild Kingdom watching over the last few years. I did see other things that were odd, like plants with blue foliage. Blue. Deep royal blue. My dendrology professor would have a bit to say about that. I took a sample of the leaves and put it in my pack to have a look at it. I shaded my eyes and looked up at the sun, which seemed a bit small to me. I was beginning to have some unholy suspicions. Like, why was there no clear high tide mark? Frequent storms? Gods, I hope not. And why hadn't someone found me by now? Didn't someone say that there was no place in the Caribbean that couldn't be reached by the Coast Guard within a few hours?
It took me two or three hours at my reduced pace to hike to the other side of the island. It seemed to be at least five miles across, and I had found a stream and some considerable debris from several kinds of vessels, perhaps even an aircraft or two of some kind. Some kind I'd never seen before… I wasn't happy with my train of thought. I can't jump to conclusions now. If I'm supposed to believe that I've stepped into the Twilight Zone, I need to see more proof than some odd looking metal wreckage and a strange plant or two.
Well, ask and you shall receive. I climbed over the shelter of a ridge and into a burned-out clearing there they were – it was clear that they were dead; they were obviously putrefying. The smell was indescribable. The food bar was terminated with extreme prejudice, but not because of the smell. "They" were aliens. Two little green men – well, teal blue turning to gray, actually. About four and a half feet tall, with big black eyes and snouts that looked almost prehensile. I seemed to recognize them from somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it. I held my breath and took a Polaroid of them, took a few samples and put them in a plastic bag, and wasted a couple of matches and some kerosene in lighting a pyre to burn their bodies, since the scavengers had begun to nibble and they looked more than a little ragged. I burned the gloves, too. No use in taking any chances. I came across their ship half an hour later. It looked like a space vessel, with dark burn marks scored in lines across the body of it and one of the tailfins blown off, what looked like an engine missing. The writing was also oddly familiar, as though I'd seen it before. I sat down for a bit, severely shaken and doing my best not to hyperventilate. Maybe it's time to panic now. My kingdom for a paper bag.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm myself, consciously trying to relax and be rational, so I wouldn't soil my drawers or something. I only had two or three clean pairs left, after all, and no idea whether I would find anything to wash them in. I had to think clearly, I couldn't operate on fear and ignorance, but I had to observe and draw what conclusions I could from facts that I could discern. I couldn't do the trial and error method here; I wouldn't survive a week if I did. Okay, Lyn, it's time to think. It seemed that there were creatures here that were not from the Earth I knew. And I hadn't seen a single creature that I had recognized. I hadn't even seen any bugs. I wanted to look at some of the samples I'd taken under that dinky little microscope in the doctor's bag back at the boat. Hell, how could I not want to study them? Maybe meet them?
There were other questions, too, like – was I seeing the Weekly World News' "Island Crash Site of the Aliens on Earth" (that would be on the front page, between the "Famed Psychic's Head Explodes!" and "Curse of the BatBoy!" headlines, I was guessing) or was I the alien in another place? I had been in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, after all. If that were the case, then I was in a totally different situation. That shook me up. This was way too much. I couldn't make a judgment with the data I had, not yet, so I had to reserve my opinion for when I had more facts… and I would get them soon, as early as that night. The stars would tell me where I was – or, more germanely, where I wasn't. I did my best to ignore the cold lump of fear forming in my gut.
I looked at the ship in the shadows of the clearing where it had landed, and it struck me where I'd seen the writing before. Aurebesh. It's Aurebesh, by all the Gods. Star Wars, all that stuff – damn. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as much a shock if it were somewhere I'd imagined, but I still had to watch myself, carefully. I looked at the Polaroids and then remembered the race of those poor fellows – they were Rodians. Like Greedo, the bounty hunter who came to a bad end on Han Solo's blaster bolt. Gods, if I was in the Galaxy Far, Far Away, when was I here? Why was I here? No, there was no point in speculating, not yet. I could push the hysteria back for a little while longer. Most likely I was just imagining all of it anyway.
It was a long time till dark. It was hard to say with a broken watch, but it just seemed that the afternoon lasted forever. Perhaps the day was longer than I expected. I went back to the boat after a bit more exploration; I had found a few things that might be good shelter if I put them together correctly. Sleeping under the boat was not going to cut it for long.
The sunset was spectacular; there were lovely colors. I didn't recognize the stars. Two moons rose over the horizon less than two hours later. One was a good deal smaller than the other, but they were both far too big to be stars or satellites. For a few minutes, I was totally still, basically in shock. I just sat down on the beach because my legs would no longer hold me, and watched the moons come up into the sky, and it all hit home. I'd taken a very long trip during that storm; that seemed pretty clear. I had stepped into the Twilight Zone.
I wasn't conscious of starting to cry. By the time I realized what was happening, I was hysterical, shrieking, pounding on the sand and throwing rocks and sand and anything else I could lay hands on into the water, and I couldn't stop. There was just no way to get a lid on it. I had to cry it out, to get it out of my system. I don't know how long it took, but I do know that I was absolutely exhausted afterward because I'd spent half the day holding it back. Everything. I was never going home, never going to see my dad or my brother again, never going to see the nasty head nurse on the Peds floor, or feed the pigeons in front of the hospital again. Never get my damned degree. Never.
Eventually, I ran out of steam, lying on the beach with a few of those funny looking crabs peering at me curiously, as if to say, "Why did you make that disagreeable noise?"
"Sorry, guys," I whispered, totally without voice. "I'll abide by the curfew ordinance in the future."
There wasn't much reason to light a big signal fire after that, and perhaps a very good reason not to do so. I looked up at the stars and they were all different, lovely and seemingly closer than the ones I'd grown up with. Perhaps it was because the air was cleaner there, or maybe they were closer. I couldn't tell. But I did know that I could use the charts for toilet tissue and the GPS receiver for steel to strike flint on. The only reason I left the radio beacon on was that the bloody thing had no "off" switch. I checked. If there were people on this place, and they used any kind of RF communication, they'd know I was here, all right. Was that a good thing? I couldn't tell that, either. The laws of physics seemed to be the same on the larger level. Nothing had poisoned me yet, but that may have been because I had the sense not to eat any of the native flora or fauna. There weren't any tests of the sort in the survival kit. I suspected that the equipment that was there had been put in the boat more for reassurance than practicality. I felt more comfortable with the doctor's bag.
I watched the stars wheel above me, totally unfamiliar. I couldn't see any constellations I recognized – not Orion, the Southern Cross, Great or Little Bear, none I could see. All that work on the Astronomy merit badge, and what do I get? Another starfield to look at. It was a strange and lonely feeling of unreality, frightening. Be careful what you wish for. I'd wanted time alone to think, and I'd sure gotten it. Possibly the rest of my life, such as that might be.
I sat for a long time that night, thinking things over. My mind raced so fast I couldn't sleep, though I was bone tired and still sore, and my head throbbed abominably from my earlier tantrum. Small creatures that looked a bit like insects came out, and little reptilian-looking flying animals came out to eat them. They were deep red and gold; they looked like little dragons. Curiouser and curiouser... Neither group paid me much attention, but I watched them, to take my mind off of other things for a bit. Some of the small creatures glowed with odd colors of green and yellow and orange. One of them that landed on my shoe looked like a tiny butterfly with delicate little wings outlined in faint blue phosphorescence. Fireflies, I noted absently, didn't look like that. As I watched, I just stayed there, absorbed in the beauty of this little creature; so different from anything I'd ever seen. This little guy managed. Maybe I would, too. On that note, I decided it was time to sleep. Conquering the world would have to start tomorrow.
The morning was bright and cool, and the boat smelled worse than ever. New shelter was the order of business, I decided, shaking something crawly and unpleasant out of my shoes. I'd jumped about a yard when I saw it. It didn't look like it had anything to bite with, but I had my doubts. Something had disturbed my trash midden during the night, but at least they'd left the latrine alone as far as I could see. I wanted a place where I could feel safer, and I needed to scout out the rest of the island for a more secure location. Great. Swiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, where are you when I need you? I looked in my bag. There was The Lord of the Rings, Norton's Anthology of Poetry, Dune, Le Morte D'Artur, Beowulf, The Chronicles of Amber, and Gideon's Bible, right where I'd left them. I hadn't even thought to dump them out when I'd left. Amazingly enough, the fiddle and guitar had survived, too, and were actually playable. That was a great comfort. Playing calmed my nerves a bit. Maybe if I couldn't fight the big bad wolf, I could scare him away. Now, how did that yodeling song go?
It would be a bore to relate the details of how I found an empty cargo container and used it to make a shelter. Embarrassing, too. I was a native klutz, and nearly killed myself a couple of times trying to move it to the place I had decided on, in the shelter of the ridge. Don't let those folks on the documentaries fool you. They didn't move the stones of the Pyramids on sledges and logs, they just cussed and sweated and broke bones trying to get the damn things into place. But finally, with the aid of some decent luck and some of the tools in the kit (whoda thunk that the block and tackle would be so useful?) it was finished. It was nothing fancy, but it was someplace I could go in the weather, and I even managed not to amputate any fingers or toes while doing it – barely. Once I got so frustrated with the damn thing that I kicked it and nearly broke my foot again. I went through a few days after that where I was panicked by every noise; since I couldn't run and had discovered no real predators on the island, my imagination was running wild. It took me almost a week to get over that and get hold of myself.
While attempting the rather clumsy construction, I had an encounter with a small animal that looked a bit like a cat at first glance. He even purred. He came when I offered him a bit of my food bar, and I acquired a buddy when he decided I was a soft touch – or too big to eat. He seemed to be young, and he was affectionate and rather sweet. He quickly became my sidekick. I decided that Friday would be way too corny, so I named him Slan, since he had little curly white tendril-like whiskers that waved from his forehead, just like in the old book. He had a pointy snout, and was masked like a ferret, patterned in gray and brown. He was also the size of a small cat, but he had big purple eyes and an opposable thumb like a raccoon. I just hoped he wouldn't grow up to be so big that he would eat me for dessert one day. In case he did, sucking up to him wouldn't be a bad thing. I believe he kept me from going out of my mind; it helped just to have another being to talk to. He liked to ride on my shoulder, and would climb up onto me whenever I sat to get a better view of the landscape. He even liked my guitar and singing – now that was a true friend. I didn't mind sharing my food with him. The first time I closed the door at night he put up a hell of a racket outside, but when I opened the door he walked in like he owned the place (perhaps to his mind he did), surveyed his holdings, and plopped down on my pallet, looking up at me happily as though congratulating me for being so clever and resourceful.
"Thanks," I said. "Make yourself at home, why don't you? Just remember, no stinking up the place. If you have to go, you go outside, okay?" I swear by all that's holy he looked at me indignantly.
/Of course, no self-respecting predator would foul its lair. /
I shook my head. Whoa, Kyle, your mind is going. Well, it might make the time pass more quickly…
Slan never once sprayed or peed in the house. Hey, I've had boyfriends who weren't that considerate. He even decided that my latrine was a fine place to do his business, and would amiably follow me out and keep me company. I wasn't very comfortable with elimination as a spectator sport, but I could live with it if he didn't mind. I did, however, put up a tarp around the latrine. One had to have some standards, after all.
As I continued to explore around the island, I found a few more surprises. There was what looked an awful lot like a rabbit warren in one of the little hills toward the center, which excited Slan no end, and I found several coconut trees on the beach on the windward side of the island! I guess coconuts, like bad girls, go everywhere; they're packed for traveling. I also found a small stand of what looked an awful lot like banana plants, as well. I'd just seen some a week before, in the Bahamas, so I recalled them fairly well. They smelled like bananas, and they tasted like them, too. They didn't kill me outright, and if they were bananas they were fairly nutritious. The only problem was that I didn't like them very much. Well, beggars couldn't be choosers. Between coconut, bananas and fish, I might be able to survive after all. What I needed was a good source of vitamin C and carotenoids, like wild citrus or sweet potato or something. I'd run out of food bars and other things in another six weeks or so, and since I couldn't count on being rescued at all, I had to figure out how I'd survive. Since I had at my estimate about 40 to 50 square miles to explore, I hoped I'd find something. For now, I was taking vitamins and getting things set up. Nothing else to do.
The weather turned thick after ten days. It rained and rained, and I was glad for my packing crate and the little lamp. Didn't know what I'd do when I ran out of kerosene for it, but I'd worry about that later. The little radio receiver from the boat got nothing but static. I soon had no other music but my own, since I didn't have any spare batteries left, so I actually practiced guitar quite a bit. Singing lifted my spirits, and Slan liked to sit on the top of my guitar and listen. I'd decided against keeping a journal a la Mr. Crusoe, but I did write down my exploration findings with Polaroids and keep track of the days, which by the clock from the kit were actually about 26 hours and 30 minutes long. Did that mean I was ten percent younger here? Hey, I'd take what I could get. I had to figure out how long the year was first.
When the weather cleared, it was late at night. The stars were bright and the bigger moon shone as I walked out onto grass in front of the "house".
"So far, so good, Slan. We didn't get washed down the hill or rained on. Can't beat that for a first try." He purruped on my shoulder and nuzzled my ear. "Don't get fresh with me, bud." I scratched his ear, belying my words. It was very nice to have someone to talk to, even if he was a foreign beastie. I sighed. It was time to get some rest; I had more of the island to survey tomorrow. Didn't want any surprises that I could avoid.
It seemed like I'd just dropped off when I heard the thunderclap. I jumped off my pallet and went out the door in time to see the streak of light and hear the craft land over the ridge. I ran up to see the fire, and went back to the crate. There wasn't much chance anyone had survived that. I sat down on my crate and sighed. For some reason, I was convinced that there had been someone in that little ship, but after a crash like that I doubted there would be much left but ashes. I'd have a look after the fire died down. The wind was away from the clearing where I'd made camp.
I'd dozed off again a while later, when the light from the blaze had died down. It was still too hot to go near the spot where the vehicle had crashed, and I'd decided I'd have to wait until morning anyway. Slan wasn't happy about my sleeping, and he kept nudging me and batting me with his paw, actually meowing until I woke up again.
"What's the matter? You never woke me up to go before. I suppose I should thank you, silly guy. Here you go –" I opened the door just about in time to see a tall figure stagger across the clearing and collapse onto his knees at my door. I gave a short squeak, too astounded and frightened to do much more. He was human, wearing a tan shirt, vest, and jacket and dark trousers, black boots. He had long dark hair and a beard. I ran forward to help him up – he was a big man, and I had all I could do to help him into the crate and lay him down. I'm no faint flower at 5' 8" tall, but he had to be about 6' 4" or even more… I lit the lamp to get a good look at him. He had a wound in his right shoulder that was bleeding badly, and bruises and burns all over his upper body. He passed out as I laid him back, so I got the first aid kit and some water I'd boiled to wash clothes in the morning, and looked him over.
The room did a rumba once more – damn it, things have to get less weird sooner or later. This man is a Jedi. A Jedi, for the love of God. There's his lightsabre… and I think I even know which one. Oh, God… well, if he's a Jedi I'm most likely reasonably safe. If he's that Jedi I will have a nervous breakdown. Later. Now I have to see if he's all right.
His pulse was even and slower than I expected, slower than I'd seen in many men, around 70. His lungs seemed clear, his respirations fast but regular. He might have cracked a rib or two but there was no internal bleeding that I could detect, thank God. His blood pressure was a bit low, but that was to be expected. He was in incredible shape, strong and lean with long limbs smoothly muscled, his chest lightly furred with dark hair. I took off his heavy leather belt and tunics gently, easing the fabric off the deep bloody gashes, obviously made by some kind of torn or sharp metal. I wet them down to disturb them as little as I could, but I still peeled off more skin and clot than I wanted to. I washed off as much as I dared, put some silvadene ointment on the burns and raw areas, and picked the metal shards from his shoulder as gently as I could and painted it with antibiotic and put a pressure bandage on it to stop the bleeding that was still oozing after I had applied manual pressure for several minutes. From the amount of blood that soaked his clothing and his poor color, I guessed that he was in shock, and covered him up with the blankets as soon as I could. What a waste. He's beautiful. It's a shame to hide such wonderful scenery... Shame on you, Lyn, the man is wounded and bleeding and you have to restrain yourself from feeling him up? Sure, it's been a long time, but really… I wiped blood and soot from his face, the sharp angular bones standing starkly against pale skin. He is quite a handsome man. He seems so sad, though. How do I know that? The nose was a bit crooked with an old break, but it seemed to add to the effect of kindness and dignity that seemed to rest naturally on his face. He's even better looking than Liam Neeson – and that's going quite a ways. Down, girl.
I sighed and dumped the clothes into the basin so the blood would come out more easily. I could boil more water later for my laundry. Oddly enough, the blood, soot, and other nameless crud came out perfectly with just a few swishes in the water. I could see no trace of it on any of the cloth, even the torn right sleeve. Gadzook, what is this stuff? I'll take ten bolts. So that's why he doesn't take but a few minutes to look good after a swim on Naboo. I hung the clothes on the hooks I'd made so he'd have something dry to wear when he woke, and set his belt with the 'sabre and utility widgets next to him, within easy reach. I was beginning to shake again.
I turned back to him to see him stirring. I brought him a cup with some water and knelt beside him. "Whoa," I said. "Don't move, you've been banged up pretty badly and I don't know if I missed anything. Let me help you, do you want some water? It's safe." I didn't know if he could understand me, but I tried to be as non-threatening as I could, and moved behind him to boost him up to drink some so he wouldn't choke. He drank thirstily and laid his head back on my lap as I eased him down.
"Thank you," he said, in lightly accented English. He had a lovely voice. He opened his eyes and I saw that they were a beautiful deep blue, wise and serene despite the pain I knew he must have. He held my eyes for a long moment, and it felt like he saw through me. I colored under the scrutiny, as though he could see everything I was thinking and feeling.
"You're welcome," I said, automatically. I was flabbergasted. Of all the weird things I'd seen, this took the fur-lined bathtub.
"Why are you surprised that I speak Basic?" he asked, with a quizzical expression.
What, could he read my mind? I colored even more deeply. "Well, one doesn't assume such things from a stranger where I'm from. Especially a stranger from space. What's your name, where do you come from?" I asked, gritting my teeth for the answer I knew would come. "I'm Lyn – Belinda Kyle."
"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," he said, inclining his head.
Well, that tears it. Oh, dear merciful heaven. I don't believe it. No, even worse. I do. I took a deep breath to steady myself while my head swam once more, and cleared my throat. "Well, Master Jinn," I said, "I'm not a doctor, but you definitely need some rest. You look like you've had a bad day."
"It would have been much worse had you not been here to help me," he said, taking my hand with a smile. He had long, strong hands that were callused and hard from work. They were good hands. I liked them. Not much of a surprise there.
"Then I'm glad I'm here," I replied. I put my other hand over his. "Rest now. I will watch, though I doubt I'd be much good in a scrap. Was there anyone with you? Anyone after you?"
"No, there was no one else," he said quietly. "And if no one has landed here, I am not being followed, at least immediately." The way he spoke made me feel like there was a sad story there, and I squeezed his hand as I felt a sorrow in me for him. "I will sleep very deeply for a time. It is to aid in healing, do not worry. If you must wake me, call my name." He looked at Slan, who had climbed up on the pallet and onto his good shoulder. Slan made an obviously conversational noise and he smiled. "Thank you, too, little one," he said to Slan, and stroked his chin gently. "We are certainly both most fortunate." Slan made a happy noise and curled up on Qui-Gon's good shoulder, purring loudly. I might not have been a native to the neighborhood, but I knew cuddle therapy when I saw it. You fink, I can't get away with that. Qui-Gon quirked a half-smile, which had me blushing and paranoid all over again. Hopefully I was so sunburned that it didn't show as much as it usually did. He closed his eyes and settled down to sleep, to heal. I could feel his stillness.
I walked out of the house to dump the water, my knees wobbling. Oh God oh God oh God… I think it's time for that nervous breakdown now.