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| Finding A Path - Han | ||||||||||||
| Disclaimer: Characters and Premise are borrowed from the movie "Star Wars." | ||||||||||||
| The feel of ice cold water spraying into my face, thourgh the the headhuntered's cracked canopy, shocked me back into consciousness. Through some bit of unbelievable luck my fighter had soft landed in what looked like an ocean, even more luckily I had come down within sight of land. I began searching the cockpit for something that would float, my miracle landing had probably used up all my luck for a very long time, so I didn't want to risk drowning on the swim to the shore. The only thing that I could find that could possibly be lighter than water was the chair's cushions. After struggling to tear the cushions off for a few minutes it broke away all at once throwing me back against the eject button. The hatch popped off and a wave of frigid water washed over my head. A second later the seat ejected. I didn't know how ejecting from a ship under normal circumstances felt, but if it even faintly resembles how I felt after that time, I'd rather go down with my ship. Somehow I maintained my hold on the seat cushion through the ejection process. I took me several hours to swim/float to land but when I did, I was shocked to see that beyond the beach was a nearly endless meadow of some sort of tall yellowish grass. I'd never seen any thing like it before. I didn't worry very long about my unfamiliar surroundings. I was too tired from my long swim, and the beach was too warm to permit worry. I guess I slept for about an hour, but that was a wild guess. My chrono hadn't been water tight and no longer worked. More importantly neither did my blaster. This left me in a place I'd never seen before with the clothes I was wearing (which were still slightly damp) and nothing else. To make matters worse, there wasn't a sign of civilization. That was a shock, an old friend of mine had always complained that there wasn't a single spot on this planet that hadn't been ruined by humans, (In his vocabulary ruined and signs of civilization were synonymous.) This was a really bad time for Andy to be proved wrong about that. I lived in cities and in my fighter. I wasn't sure if I could handle this. But it would take me only a day or two to find some people. Even so I knew I'd need to find drinkable water soon. I'd been told that all rivers eventually ended up in the oceans so my surest bet on finding fresh water would be to walk along the beach until I found a river. I might even try fishing. I'd heard people could eat fish if they cooked them. The next morning I was beginning to realize that there weren't many rivers in this part of the world. I'd walked all night without running into one, and by now I was getting fairly thirsty. The only change in the landscape was that I was walking by some sort of inlet rather than the ocean. It wasn't a river. I'd tasted the water and it was still salty. The inlet was shallow and scattered with small islands. Gradually it became narrower and by noon it had turned into a river. With water at hand I decided to take a break and try fishing. First I'd need string and a hook. While I was searching for those things I found the foundation of an old house. It must have been deserted for a long, long time. There was a full grown tree in one of the rooms. The only thing still recognizable was a large stone fire place, and beside it stairs leading down to a cellar. I decided fishing could wait, exploring was more fun. The stairs led to a store room. I couldn't tell much more about it, it was too dark, but I didn't want to give up on this. Everything I'd seen so far made me think I was a long way from any other people and the stuff in that store room might be the difference between getting home or not. Carefully I made my way deeper into the room, feeling the contents of it's numerous shelves. When I had my arms full I headed back to the stairs and daylight. My first five or six trips produced some interesting stuff but nothing incredibly useful. The best things were a pack for carrying future finds, several blankets and two knives. I think the knives were meant for cooking but with a little work they'd make halfway decent weapons. On my next trip I found a tin box of little sticks that were painted on one end. On the box it said: "Strike Anywhere Matches." I decided to follow instructions, I picked up one `match' by the painted end and scratched it across the fireplace, nothing happened, so I turned it around and tried again. This time the `match' caught fire. Smiling I put the `matches' in my pack, they were my best find yet. During the afternoon I found several bags of dried fruit, the fruit tasted much better than fish possibly could. Obviously my luck hadn't run out quite yet. By evening a large pile of stuff that was ruined, useless, or incomprehensible lay on one side of the door. On the other side was a tiny pile that I wanted to take with me. That night I filled my new canteen at the river, then headed back to the house to sleep. The next morning I ate some more of the fruit and went back to my search, with the `matches' and a make-shift torch it went much faster. In the back of the cellar I found a rack of old projectile weapons. Fortunately the ammo was stored right beside them. (This arrangement of things made a lot of sense, but I couldn't count on the people that had arranged this room to be sensible. Can openers weren't stored anywhere near the canned foods.) I ended up selecting a weapon about the same size and weight as my blaster, then I picked up several boxes of ammo and headed up stairs. Luckily the gun was loaded, so I didn't have to experiment with that part of using my new weapon. For the first forty shots or so the gun's recoil threw off my aim. I hated wasting so much ammo but it wouldn't be of much use to me if I couldn't hit what I aimed at. Around lunch time I went back to look for the can-opener, I was tired of eating dried fruit for every meal. I found the can-opener by a box of lanterns. Luckily the lanterns had instructions with them. Even so it took me all afternoon to light one of the stupid, primitive things. That evening I found a map of the area where I had crashed. I also found a tourist brochure. The brochure told me I was in Jotorus Range, and it told me my ancestors had been crazy. With nothing more than the stuff in this camping supply store, (the brochure told me that's what this building used for) they would go live in Jotorus for a week or two, and they did it for fun! On second thought this place wouldn't be so bad if I had some company, an easy way to get home, and nowhere else that I had to be. But at the moment I was stuck here all by myself with no idea of how the Rebellion was doing. After I read the brochure I added it to the pile of useless things, and stuck the map in my pack. I spent about a week at the store practicing with my gun, experimenting with different pack sizes, and deciding what I was going to bring. I ended up with a medium sized pack filled with a map, a compass, as much dried food as possible, a length of rope, a first aid kit, one blanket, a box of matches, and a stone for sharpening the knife, which I had tucked into my boot. I also carried a largish canteen, a pair of binoculars, and my new gun. I traded my boots for a pair more suitable for hiking, but other than that I kept my own cloths. The next day I started out for Kaydose Pass. I soon realized that in its own way Jotorus was as attractive as the carefully designed parks that dotted the cities of Corellus. Unscheduled rain storms were a less pleasant surprise though. After the first one, I returned to the store for a slicker. But even the weather was fun, in a way. It was a new experience not to know what the weather was going to be like. Because of the map I didn't have to follow the river, but occasionally I overestimated the distance I could walk in a day, or underestimated the among of water I'd need. This made for several near calls, but I slowly improved. After several annoying sunburns I learned to sleep in the day and walk nights when I crossed the Range's huge meadows. My food supplies were supplemented by animals I managed to shoot. I didn't know anything about animals, so I was finding them more through my amazing luck than anything else. I made sure to pay close attention to where and when I found an animal, and I studied the bodies of the animals I shot. Gradually skill took the place of luck. Now I could trace most of the hoofed animals, as long as they stayed on soft ground. When I started this I couldn't have told which way the animal was heading without actually seeing it. Learning about this world was a lot more fun than I had ever dreamed it would be. Somehow I found myself slowly wandering in the general direction of Kaydose Pass, rather than rushing to get back. I always had a good explanation for taking my time, (such as: I was hunting) but deep down I knew I was just enjoying Jotorus. Telling myself I had a war to get back to never managed to hurry me along. Sometime after I lost track of exactly how long I had been in Jotorus I had my first meeting with one of the Range's larger meat eaters. I was trying to fish again and didn't see it until the cat attacked me. My flight suit probably saved my life. The suit was made of a special material to protect me from being injured if some of my ship's equipment were to explode. It turned out to be too tough for the cat's claws to rip through immediately. That gave me a chance to grab my gun, I couldn't aim it at the cat, but the noise did scare it off. After that I tried to keep an eye out for such animals. ============================================================== A few days after the cat incident I came to a new type of terrain. On the map this area was called Labyrinth, and it was one. I never would have believed such a maze of canyons could have been created by nature. On the back of the map was a close up of this section of the range. The close up indicated that there was plenty of water so I started in. The map wasn't as accurate as it might have been a century or two ago. Since it had been drawn rock slides had blocked off some routes and landmarks had been altered or disappeared altogether. Luckily there were thousands of small streams running all over the place. Several day's into the maze I heard a strange scream. I'd never heard anything like it before, so I follow it to its source. It turned out to be an injured horse. I knew it was a horse because I had seen a movie with a horse in it once. Trish had picked the movie. I prefer to see ones with a lot of space battles, but Trish liked Westerns, so I had to humor her every now and then. I was glad I had now, if I hadn't I wouldn't have known horses could be ridden, and it wasn't supposed to take long to tame them, especially if the horse was in trouble. This horse was trapped by a rock slide. If it had been uninjured the horse probably could have scrambled out of the dead end canyon, but it had an ugly gash on it's left foreleg. There wasn't any grass or water in the dead end and the horse looked pretty weak. I didn't think it could drink out of my canteen so I started looking for a different way to take water to it. I hadn't brought any cooking pots with me, and didn't have anything to pour the water in. I began walking around the horse's prison looking for something to put water in. On one rim of the canyon I found something that would work much better than a trough for getting water to the horse. It was a small stream running parallel to the canyon. With a little work I could change it so that the stream would run into the canyon. I started by blocking off the stream with some rocks, but the stream just started forming a pool. I needed to raise the stream's bank on the side away from the canyon. I piled some more rocks along side of the stream. There were a lot of leaks in my dam but most of the water was going sort of where I wanted it to. After awhile the water began trickling down into the canyon. It didn't take long for the horse to notice the water, it limped to the new pond at the base of my small waterfall and began drinking the water. While it drank I took my first close look at the horse. It was a light dusty brown color with white markings on it's legs. Now the horse needed food. There was some grass growing by the stream. I sighed tiredly, already this horse was more work than the movies had lead me to believe. It seemed to take forever to cut an armful of grass, but eventually it was done. Carefully I made my way into the canyon, trying not to drop any grass. When I reached the canyon floor I dropped the grass and took a step or two back. Then I waited for the horse. I must have waited for several hours. The horse, who I named Dusty, was much more interested in the water, and because the stream was fairly small and not all the water made it to the canyon it took Dusty forever to get enough to drink. I must have fallen asleep after a time. I woke up when Dusty finished the grass and started to nibble on my jacket. Before I realized what I was doing, I shoved his head away. Startled the horse limped off to the other end of the canyon. A few days later I realized that this wasn't going to be a short stop. Dusty still wouldn't let me get close enough to him to examine his leg, let alone try to ride him. And I was running low on food. There was only one thing to do Dusty would have to get along by himself for a day while I hunted. The trip took me longer than I expected, and I didn't return to Dusty's canyon until the next morning. The first thing I did when I got back was to cut some more grass for Dusty. Hopefully some would grow in the canyon before long. The next day I started to set up a more permanent camp. I cut several branches off some trees I had found on my hunting trip. I had planned to use them as a tent, Dusty used them as dinner. My knife wouldn't cut though branches too big for Dusty to eat so I gave up on that idea and started looking for a reasonably well sheltered nitch in the rocks. Surprisingly as soon as I started ignoring him, Dusty became very interested in what I was doing. He determinedly scrambled after me, even up on to the rocks. But if I paid the slightest attention to him he ran off. I figured Dusty was getting used to me. After several days, he even let me treat his leg. I didn't dare try to ride Dusty yet, I was afraid I'd do further damage to his injured leg. ============================================================== While I was waiting for Dusty to heal our canyon was visited by another of those cat things. That was the first time Dusty did something useful. That day I'd been busy working on my shelter. I doubt I would have noticed the cat if Dusty hadn't reacted so strongly to it. He started acting strangely a few minutes before the cat made its appearance. His whole body stiffened, he pawed the ground, then Dusty threw back his head and screamed. Dusty had never acted this way before so I watched him closely to see what else he'd do, which wasn't much. He just stared at the north wall of the canyon. Eventually I looked up that way myself. It didn't take long to spot the cat thing, and shooting it took even less time. As a reward for spotting the cat I fed Dusty some of my dried fruit. I found out he liked it after one hunting trip. I'd left my supplies in the Canyon. When I returned Dusty had finished off the open package of fruit. Luckily he hadn't managed to get into any thing else yet. I was glad to find out he liked fruit, because now when he did something right I knew what type of praise he would appreciate. I set a few pieces of fruit on the palm of my hand then gingerly held them out to Dusty. He stretched out his neck and within seconds the fruit was gone, and my hand was covered with slobber. I hurried to the waterfall and washed my hands. I had tried other means of giving Dusty treats but none had worked. If I held the fruit with the tips of my fingers I risked losing them. If I put the fruit on the ground, Dusty wouldn't know who had given it to him. So I put up with having my hand slobbered on every now and again. As I stood up my hair fell in my eyes. While I'd been in Jotorus Range it had gotten longer, and now it always seemed to be falling in my face or getting tangled in something. I wasn't quite sure how to cut it, but today I decided to try. It was just too annoying to leave it as it was. First I carefully cleaned and sharpened my knife. As usual Dusty showed up to watch. Then using my fingers I did the best possible job of combing my hair. After that I spent several minutes wishing for scissors and a friend, or at least scissors and a mirror. That wasn't getting my hair any shorter, so reluctantly I picked up my knife and grabbed a handful of hair. When I finished I peered hesitantly into the pond, not sure I really wanted to see the result of my hair cut. It was every bit as bad as I was afraid it would be. My bangs had disappeared entirely and the rest of my hair went from just covering the tops of my ears near the front to hardly any shorter then it had been when I started in the back. The very best thing I could say about the hair cut was it kept my hair out of my eyes, and it wasn't going to last forever. ============================================================== My next hunting trip was a complete disaster. The problem wasn't my gun's recoil, it wasn't even my lack of skill. It was Dusty's fault! His leg had healed enough for him to leave the canyon and he did. Dusty decided to tag along on my hunting trip. He cheerfully made enough noise to warn any animal within a mile of us. The next day I decided to try again. This time I tied Duty up before I left. It took him about ten minutes to break free and follow me. After that Dusty was always wary of me if I was carrying a rope. That made up my mind, Dusty was healthy enough to be ridden. So instead of hunting I spent the next several days collecting sores and bruises. The largest problem was that Dusty liked me better on the ground than on his back. The other problem was I'd never ridden a horse before. It took me most of a week to get on Dusty's back. The first day I tried pulling myself up with his mane, Dusty reacted by rearing up on his hind legs. Then I tried a running jump, Dusty could run much faster than I could. I tried vaulting on his back, Dusty twisted out from under me. I tried dozens of mounts Dusty had millions of ways to make them unsuccessful. Finally I made I pile of rocks to mount from, after a morning of practicing I was on top of Dusty. That lasted all of five seconds. As soon as I landed on his back, Dusty reared up on his hind legs and I slipped off. Every time I got on Dusty's back he promptly returned me to the ground, and every time as I sat in the dust rubbing my newest injury Dusty would come over to laugh at me. It only took me a few weeks to realize that Trish's movies had absolutely no basis in the real world. Horses, or at least Dusty hated to be ridden. No matter how friendly Dusty was when I was standing on the ground it didn't mean a thing when I was on his back. It took a very long time, and several nearly broken bones to convince me I wanted to walk home, after I had given some of my worst bruises a chance to heal. Since I didn't try to ride him again Dusty wouldn't leave me alone. I tried shooing him off but he wouldn't leave. When I left the canyon Dusty was right behind me. I figured he would get bored after a day or two and run off. He did disappear occasionally, but he always came back. Dusty was as useless as the bruises he had given me, but I enjoyed having him around a lot more. Now that we were out of the canyon he took care of himself. Dusty was a great pet, even if he was a rotten mode of transportation. I wasn't sure what I would do with him if he actually followed me out of Jotorus. Here he could come or go as he pleased, but outside of the Range he would become my responsibility. Also I knew the other people in my home city wouldn't appreciate Dusty, and I was fairly certain Dusty wouldn't enjoy living in a city. ============================================================== I finally found a good source of motivation for getting out of Jotorus quickly. The weather had started turning cold. In addition to the fact that I wasn't prepared for cold weather, this change of seasons gave me another reason to hurry. I had crashed here in early Spring. Now it had to be the middle if not the end of Fall. Who knew what was happening outside of Jotorus; inside Jotorus the same thing was happening as had happened for almost a thousand years, nothing. The more I though about it the more I hurried. The Rebels could have been destroyed, they could have won, they could be running the planet, or the war could still be going on. Anything could have happened, anything at all. It only took one and a half days to get out of Labyrinth now that I set my mind to it. Beyond that were more meadows, which turned into low rolling hills several days later. Water was scarce here, and I had to carefully ration it. I thought Dusty would leave me here, but it was here that my pet showed a second useful ability. In the dry hills, I ended up following Dusty as he lead me from one water hole to the next. Somehow he even understood the general direction in which I wanted to travel. I believe it took us three or four weeks to cross the hills. I was trying to think in human measures of time again. During my stay in Jotorus I had begun thinking of a day as when the sun was up and night when it was down. Weeks and months had almost lost meaning for me. Here, doing the same thing day after day, they seemed to run together after awhile. Without a chrono seconds, minutes and hour were just words. But, since I would soon be back in the civilized world I had to start thinking in those units again. The hills didn't really end; they were transformed first into bigger, steeper hills, then into mountains. I could see the Kaydose Pass from here. It was a slit in the increasingly towering mountains. As I approached it a buzzing sound became audible. It was vaguely familiar, and my body responded to it as if it were a threat. Many days later I finally identified the sound as the firing of energy weapons. The sound of blasters meant that the war with the Colonists was still on, and that whichever side had retreated to Kaydose was at the end of its rope. They weren't defending anything by making a stand at Kaydose. They were just trying to avoid being pushed off the continent. I hoped it was the Colonists who had been driven to this last resort, but if it was that meant that I was trapped behind enemy lines. Sneaking close enough to the pass to be sure of the identity of the army holed up in Kaydose would be impossible with Dusty tagging along. And after he had followed me this far I doubted he would quit now. I didn't really know where to go from here, so I made camp, and spent the next five days trying to figure out my next move. I knew that I couldn't go into Kaydose Pass without knowing which side controlled it. So I would have to avoid it all together. While Kaydose was the only pass in the Dividing Mountains it didn't mean that one person, on foot had no other way out. And if that way was too hard for Dusty that would be one less thing for me to worry about. The decision was made, so I packed up camp and headed south. In the mountains it was cold and food was scarce. One day it even snowed and I still hadn't found a way over them. I couldn't remember the number of times I had found a promising path and followed it. Followed it till Dusty could no longer follow, kept on following it till it was too steep for me. Dusty was always waiting for me when I returned. Eventually I gave up on a trail as soon as it became to steep for Dusty. I didn't want him to starve while waiting for me to come back. Now the frost stuck around till mid-morning and I needed a fire at night to keep from freezing. Two weeks later I was forced to stop moving, I was almost out of matches, and to preserve those I had left I kept the fire going all the time. Dusty had a thick wooly coat to protect him from the cold, but I was forced to spend more and more time huddled in my blanket close to the fire. Every afternoon I would venture from my camp to find fire wood, and if I was lucky food, but my luck seemed to finally be running out. So was my ammo. I tried setting some traps, but I'd never done anything like this before, and the traps were usually dismal failures. The first heavy snow fall all but put out my fire. After it was over I fixed a torch and moved my camp under a fallen tree I'd noticed while collecting wood. My new camp was a big improvement, the tree protected me, the fire, and Dusty from the wind. In one way the snow was a blessing. For the first time in months I didn't have any trouble finding water. Out of sheer boredom I tried to carve a bowl to melt snow in. The end result didn't hold water all that well and the first time I used it, it caught fire. ============================================================== Several days after burning the bowl they found me. I was shocked speechless when I saw them. It had been almost a year since I last saw a human being, and I had never seen people like this before. They wore heavy fur coats and thick mufflers made of a coarse material. Their boots were also made of fur. Besides which, I was nearly starved and half frozen. So I had a good excuse for fainting. ============================================================== I woke up in a well built stone room. A boy who couldn't have been much older than five or six was staring curiously at me. "Mom, he's awake," the boy yelled. In answer to the boy's call a woman appeared in the door, She wore a blue dress that was much plainer than any dress I'd seen before. It looked more like everyday clothes than an outfit for special occasions. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid. "Where am I?" I demanded. "You're in Charis valley," the woman replied. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "We live here," The woman answered. "No one lives in Jotorus!" I exclaimed. "We live here," The woman repeated, "We raise goats and farm, I am called Ambelin, who are you?" "Han Solo, pleased to meet you," I answered off-handedly. "Why do you live here? I mean Jotorus is a great place to visit, but its so primitive." Ambelin laughed at me, "Why do you live here?" "I don't, I live in the city of Maris," I answered. "Why do you live there?" she asked. I couldn't think of any answer so I remained silent. "Because you were born there," she answered for me, "Or if not there then someplace very much like it. That's why I live here. I was born in Jotorus and it's much easier to stay here and cope with problems familiar to me than it is to leave the Range. My Great-great-great-grandfather went to your technologically advanced world. He told wonderful stories of ships that sailed to other stars and of people who came from planets other than our own. He also said that it was a very confusing place, and that there were so many people that no one cared about anyone, but a few friends. He said dozens of people could walk by an injured person before anyone would stop to help. "He told us of buildings where hundreds of people lived together. How those people never had enough room to get away from one another and so they forgot how precious friends really are. "Here our nearest neighboring family lives in the next valley. During the winter we never see anyone besides our own family. Sometimes the snow gets so deep that we can't even leave the house for weeks at a time. All winter everyone makes things like, dishes, material, and useless little trinkets. Then in the spring everyone takes the stuff they made to Markase valley and we trade it with other people. We talk and play games, such as horse racing and archery. It's sort of like a week-long celebration. Some of the trinkets are used as prizes for the games." Suddenly a new and frightening though occurred to me, "Did you find Dusty?" I demanded. "Who?" "My horse, did you find my horse?" "He's fine," Ambelin assured me, "But we didn't find him, he found us." "What?" "Your horse is very protective of you," Ambelin commented. "When we approached you he attacked us." "Could I see him?" I asked looking for my boots. I found them at the foot of the bed. "Certainly," Ambelin replied. She led me through the house, as we went from room to room a group of people gathered around us. Having so many people staring made me uncomfortable. As each new one showed up Ambelin introduced us, but I missed most of the names. Dusty was being kept in a hanger bay for horses that was attached to the house. As soon as I entered his stall, Dusty nearly trampled me with his enthusiastic greeting. The family looked on in disapproval as I returned his affectionate greeting. When I had assured myself that Dusty was well cared for and happy, I returned to the house. "It's fine for a dog to act like that," Ambelin's uncle, Marcus remarked, "but a horse is a work animal." "Dusty isn't a work animal," I objected. "He's never done any work in his life." "Why do you keep him then," a little girl asked. "If my dad can't make a horse work he turns it loose again." "I don't try to keep Dusty around," I explained, "he just follows me." "I found a stray cat that did the same thing," the girl replied. "That horse isn't very wild," a boy commented contemptuously, "I could break him in a week." "Why would you want to break a horse?" I asked. Everyone looked at someone else like they hoped that the other person understood my question. I felt my face getting hot as I began to understand why they didn't understand my question. It was like asking why you need a gravity compensator in a high altitude fighter. The answer was so commonplace that no one ever thought about it. Finally Ambelin answered, "Han," she began hesitantly. She didn't sound all too sure that she knew what I was asking either, but someone had to explain. "Breaking a horse isn't like breaking a machine," she paused again. This time I think she was trying to find a comparison I could understand. "It's more like breaking in a new book. It doesn't damage the horse, it just makes the horse easier to work with. The word breaking means teaching a horse to accept being ridden or pulling a wagon." "Then why do you call it `breaking a horse?'" I asked. "Because when most people do it they break the horse's spirit," A girl with short black hair explained glaring at the boy as she did. She was the only girl in the room not wearing a dress. "They teach the horse that if it doesn't do exactly what a person wants it to then the person will hurt it, because the person breaking the horse doesn't have the patience to teach the horse to want to do something for them." "Your way of breaking animals is unpractical, Gwendalin. It takes months to do it, my way takes only a few days," the boy remarked angrily. "My way is quick and practical, what advantage does your method have?" "Gwendalin's horses are always more willing to work than yours Alexander," an older man remarked. "If she asked one of her special favorites to do the impossible it would continue trying till it dropped. Would your horses do that?" "Thank you Grandfather," Gwendalin commented smiling smugly at Alexander. This seemed to be an old argument. But it did teach me something: If I tried to break Dusty, I'd ask Gwendalin to help me. "Do any of you know a way out of the mountains?" I interrupted. "We'll show you the way out next spring." Ambelin promised. "What's wrong with tomorrow?" I wanted to know. "Snow will have already covered Future Pass," Gwendalin answered. "Well what am I supposed to do all winter!" I demanded. Gwendalin turned to two of the adults in the room, "Mother, Father, he can stay with us can't he?" she asked. "I'm sure he has many new stories to tell." "You and Alexander are usually on your best behavior when we have company," Gwendalin's mother commented. "Gregory found Han," Ambelin remind everyone, "He should stay here." "Madalin and I have the most room," Gwendalin's grandfather remarked. I stared at them all in disbelief. They were arguing over who I would stay with. Well if I lived in such an isolated place, it might be possible for me to get excited over a guest too. In the end it was decided that I would stay with Gwendalin and Alexander's family. They were twins and the only people in the family near my age, so everyone felt I'd be most comfortable with them. The decision was helped by the fact that Gwendalin was the most argumentive of the family, and her grandfather's favorite. On the way to their house that night the family formally introduced themselves to me. It turned out that the families in this part of the world took their last name from the valley they lived in. Gwendalin's immediate family consisted of herself and Alexander, and their parents Rosalin and Anthony. Alexander had wanted to tie Dusty behind the wagon. "It was the only practical way to get the horse home," he had reasoned. I was beginning to hate the word `practical' when Alexander used it. In this argument I prevailed because Dusty was my horse. So he followed the wagon because he wanted to, not because he was tied there. The horse garage at Gwendalin's house was attached to the rest of the house just like at Ambelin's. I decided Ambelin must have been serious about there being enough snow to trap a person in the house. Gwendalin grabbed my arm and led me into a huge open room beyond the horse garage. "This is the goat barn," She explained. Then raising her voice she yelled, "Here goats, come visit." Suddenly we were surrounded by dozens of furry, friendly things that had to be goats. Gwendalin knelt among them trying to pet them all at one time. Alexander stood in the doorway, holding up a rusty lantern. Some of the goats were bumping their heads against my legs. I reached down and began stroking one's head. Immediately another goat pushed it's head under my hand. "They like you!" Gwendalin exclaimed. "These things are so friendly I assumed that they liked everyone," I remarked. "They don't like Alexander," Gwendalin informed me. "But then he doesn't like them either. Alexander doesn't really like any animal." "And Gwendalin would like to open our house to all the animals in the mountains so they wouldn't get cold during the winter," Alexander responded. ============================================================== The winter passed quietly. I told stories of the world outside of Jotorus, and was repeatedly surprised by how little they knew of that world. They didn't even know of the Colonists' arrival, let alone of the war we were waging against them. I learned to make figures of carved wood from Antony, and Rosalin taught me about the people of the Dividing Mountains. It turned out that they had lived here since before written history. The population had always been small. In this area there were about twenty extended families. The largest family was the Trellane family. It consisted of four generations and around sixty people. The oldest family was the Markase family. Most other families were tied to it by marriage. I also learned that the families weren't families in the normal sense of the word. If one of the valleys was hit by a natural disaster of some type, the survivors were taken in by other families. Those survivors usually took the name of their new home valley. Also when several valleys became over-crowded a council would be called, and some of the members of each family would end up getting together and starting a new family in a new valley. The peoples' old families would give the new family supplies and help to open up the new valley. The newest family at this time was the Chicorics who had begun their family only three years ago. The Charis family had existed for five hundred year. They were only two decades younger than the Markases. At one time there had been fifty families in this area, but four centuries ago there had been a plague. Usually such a disease would be discovered before it could escape the valley in which it originated, but while this disease was at its most contagious there were no symptoms. That period of contagiousness had coincided with the annual spring celebration. After the plague had burned itself out the survivors had gathered in eight families. The Charises had escaped the plague due to a sickness in their valley that was not so deadly, but still not something they wanted to bring to the festival. Afterward that sickness was declared a blessing in disguise. ============================================================== Alexander and I had disliked each other on first impression. Now that we knew each other better we could each list reasons for that dislike. My list would definitely include how he always acted superior to me. Who cares that he knew more about life in a society centuries behind the rest of the world. And worse yet he even tried to act superior when I talked about High Altitude Fighters. Alexander had never seen, let alone flown, one. "Solo, if you're such a marvelous pilot why did you crash?" Alex challenged when I had finished explaining how I had ended up in Jotorus. "He was unconscious, Alexander," Gwendalin objected. "He wouldn't have been unconscious if he had flown better," Alexander replied. "Alex what do you know about flying High Altitude Fighters?" I asked, "could you manage to get one off the ground? Lets not even talk about surviving a high density laser barrage, could you survive landing the ship." "I bet I could!" Alexander replied angrily. "That's a pretty safe bet," I laughed, "considering the fact you'll never even see a Fighter up here." "Please," Rosalin interrupted tiredly, "Han was there, he knows what happened, there is no point in arguing about it." I smiled serenely, it was fun to have someone like Rosalin around with whom no one argued. As long as you were right, or better yet, in agreement with Rosalin. That night Alexander and I continued our discussion. "I would have made that bet if one of your flying ships was sitting right outside." Alex began. "Yeah, sure ya would of," I commented sarcastically. "What would you have done if it had been that way?" Alexander asked. For a change he just seemed curious. "I wouldn't have let you," I replied sincerely. "Why not!" he demanded. "Because I wouldn't want to be responsible for your death." "You said the colonists sent you and the rest of your wing up without training, and you made it." "I also said four fifths of us died," I reminded him. "You were in a battle," Alexander objected. "We grew up using modern technology," I countered, "And a lot of us, especially the one with no prior experience died before anyone gave a thought to landing. Alexander it's not too hard to take off with a fighter, you just activate the propulsion jets and pull back on the control stick, landing is another matter altogether. When you try that you have to fly at the correct velocity for your runway length and angle of descent. When you start flying, you have to depend on you equipment a lot. The first time I tried to land a fighter on my own I ripped off the landing gear because my angle of descent was too steep. I had figured it would be real easy I'd done it with my dad a hundred times. I was lucky, I walked away from that landing with a badly burnt arm and a sprained ankle. I hurt my ankle jumping out of the ship, about ten seconds before it blew-up. The friction between the ship's hull and the runway started a fire. It reached the fuel tanks before the crash crew could put the fire out." I smiled crookedly, "When my dad found out about what happened he was furious. I'm still not sure if he was madder about the damage to the ship or about my awful flying." "It's nice to know you're not perfect either," Alexander commented. "Have I ever acted like I was?" I asked. "I thought I was pretty open about how little I knew about wilderness survival." "Oh yeah, we all know that there wasn't any reason for a hot shot pilot like yourself to know about riding a horse, or any of the other primitive things that we needed to master to live in a place like Charis valley." Alex sounded angry and bitter. I hadn't realized Alexander would be offended because I had never needed to know about the things like that in my world. That the rest of the world had progressed beyond horses and homespun yarn was simply a fact. I felt like I should say something, but why should I apologize? It wasn't my fault that Charis valley was so backwards. It was a nice place and I was grateful to the people who lived here for saving my life, but they were living in a time warp. ============================================================== The next spring Rosalin and Andrew insisted I stay for the Spring celebration. After hearing abut it all winter it didn't take much to convince me. Gwendalin and I had been working with Dusty all winter, and four weeks before the celebration I was finally allowed to ride him. After we spent all that time getting him ready for riding I was certain he wouldn't be any problem at all. With a saddle for me to hold on to, it took Dusty almost a minute to buck me off. Gwendalin talked me into getting back on him again and again until Dusty behaved and until I was a fairly decent rider. When we set out for Markase valley, I was riding Dusty. It was surprising to notice that I looked exactly like every other member of the group, from the rough homemade clothing I wore, to the carefully packed bundle of trinkets in my saddle bags. The trip took ten days riding and an eleventh walking. We passed though three other inhabited valleys. At each one we picked up another party. Even before we reached Markase Valley I must have been introduced to over a hundred people, and every night I was called on to tell stories about the world outside of Jotorus. Gwendalin help me to decide which of my stories would interest people. Every night a huge bonfire was lit at the center of the camp and the various storytellers, singers and other entertainers stood before the fire. I always wondered how I looked when I stood up there. The others were a black silhouette outlined by flames. Their faces were indistinguishable and their voices seemed to come from the fire itself. The firelight gleamed off the musicians' instruments. The feeling that surrounded the trip was like nothing I had ever experienced before. These people had so much energy. They were so delighted just to see each other again. I had thought that being separated from friends in the other valleys would cause those friendships to cool slightly, but in reality it seemed to have caused the exact opposite. To these people the few weeks they had with their friends were a far greater treasure than gold. I learned that when you saw a person every day you started to take them for granted. At Markase everyone set up their bundle of goods in a spot that pleased them. I wasn't quite sure how this trading would work if everyone had a booth to tend. I asked Gwendalin about it and she explained that some of the people would wander around with a few of their best items for trading. The people who tended booths and the others were constantly shifting. Everyone brought lots of food supplies, which they pooled. Each day different families were put in charge of food preparation. Breakfast, and lunch were sort of a buffet style, and dinner was a barbecue. By dinner time all the booths were shut down and everyone gathered together around a bonfire like we had done on the way here. I was a popular speaker here too. Alexander spent a good deal of time explaining that was because I was the only person with news of the outer world that was less than a few hundred years old. ============================================================== I couldn't believe the trades people offered me. My stuff wasn't very good compared to everyone else's. Rosalin told me that everyone had seen the other's work before, but mine was entirely new. That explained why the sketches of starships were such hot items. In return for drawings of the thousands of space craft I'd seen while living on a combination spaceport and army base, I received a wood cut of a forest glade, a picture of Dusty that one lady drew for me, a picture of the mountains burned into leather, and a treated skin of one of the cat creatures I'd seen on my trip. Actually I won the fur in a horse race. In archery I won a bow and arrow for being the furthest off the mark. That week was the most fun I ever remember having. After the spring celebration was over, Gwendalin and one of her distant relatives, Jamison, guided me to Future Pass. Future Pass turned out to be a slit just wide enough for one horse to slip through. On either side of the pass the mountains sharply dropped away, giving me a very good view of two different worlds. Before me were acres of barren fields worked by mindless robots and beyond them were thousands of huge cities. Behind me, Gwendalin and Jamison waited patently for me to get through the pass. Behind them lay the majestic wilderness of Jotorus Range. Now that I was really almost home I was scared to leave Jotorus. My fourteenth birthday had taken place a week after I crashed in Jotorus I must be close to fifteen years old now. It had been a year since I had flown a fighter, a year since I'd even seen a city. And I was afraid to go home, but I was also excited. So much would have happened in a year, especially this year. How could I have stay away so long? For the first time I realized Trish must think I had died in the crash. I had to get back. I had to let her know I was alright. I urged Dusty into a trot, then quickly brought him to a stop. I couldn't take Dusty to a city, no matter how well behaved he was. I dismounted, "Gwendalin," I yelled, "I can't take Dusty with me. Would you take care of him?" "You should take him," Gwendalin replied. "There wouldn't be any room for him where I live," I objected. "How will you get back to your home?" Gwendalin demanded. "This is my world, Gwendalin," I reminded her. "I can take care of myself here." "Dusty will miss you." Angrily I began pulling my supplies off Dusty and arranging them so I could carry them. "Han, I don't know if I can stop him from following you," Gwendalin continued, "why can't you make room for him? Dusty is your horse. I've never seen an animal that was so loyal to one person. Why can't you show him some of the same loyalty?" I spun to face her, "You say Dusty will miss me if I leave him, but if I take him with me he'll be missing a lot more. He'll miss the grass, room to run, an owner who would have the time to pay attention to him, just to name a few things. I'd love to take Dusty home with me, because if I don't I'll miss him, but I can't. This is where Dusty belongs, not in an asphalt covered city!" I paused, trying to bring my voice back under control. "Gwendalin, I've lived in a city, I know Dusty wouldn't fit in there. You've got to keep him. Please Gwendalin, I know what I'm talking about." Gwendalin sighed, "I'll take good care of him." A few minutes later I shouldered my supplies and the stuff from the Spring Celebration. I led Dusty to Gwendalin. "Good-bye, I'll miss you." I handed her Dusty's reins, "Get a good hold on him." I started to walk away, then turned back, "fair skies, Gwendalin!" When I reached the corner Dusty started after me. Gwendalin pulled back on the reins and commanded Dusty to stop. For a moment he paused. I turned back to my path, about three steps further Dusty started straining to break free from Gwendalin. Resolutely I kept on walking, then Dusty screamed, the startling sound that first led me to him. I turned back, Dusty had reared up on his hind legs, pulling Gwendalin off the ground. Just as I started back Jamison grabbed the reigns below Gwendalin. Together they brought Dusty under control. I turned back and continued on my way. It took me until night fall to reach the edge of the endless fields. I camped there that night. Then the next morning I hitched a ride on a planter. Its simple one-track mind plowed on across the field without even noticing my presence. The field was probably close to a mile long, and I appreciated the ride. On the next field the tractor was going the wrong way so I walked it. Eventually I reached a road that headed toward the cities. After about two days of walking I reached a small town. While I was in the town I learned that the Rebels had been in control of the government for eleven months, and that I had been gone for fourteen months. I was surprised by the number of boarded up buildings I saw, but I couldn't stay long enough to find out what had happened. I had to find Trish. I found a skimmer someone had left unlocked, and hot-wired it. With the skimmer, it took me eight days to get back to my home city. In the other cities I had passed through I learned what the Rebel Government was doing. It wasn't at all what I expected. In one town I'd seen how rioters were handled by the Rebel Government. They were shot down in the streets. If I had known what living under the Rebel Government was going to be like I would have joined the raiders and done my best to blow-up the whole planet. I had heard enough about CRMC to know with a hundred percent certainty that they weren't any better than the Rebel Government. I couldn't see any hope for Corellus, and I just wanted to get away. I still wanted to find Trish, but now I wanted to get her out of this place too. I had a feeling the Rebel Government would eventually turn on anyone near it. I thought about taking Trish back to the Dividing Mountains, but the closer I got to my city the more I realized I wanted to see suns other than the one we orbited. While flying the X-wing I had gotten my first taste of open space, and now whenever my mind wasn't occupied it went back to that time. When you were outside of a planet's atmosphere the stars became an endless array of brightly burning beacons, each one telling you this was where you belonged. Telling you of uncountable unimaginable planets orbiting them. Planets you could see if you left your single solar system behind and accepted deep space as your home. Now I was willing to do just that. Other than Trish there was nothing left on this planet for me. | ||||||||||||
