Maps and satellites

Two more days went by. Ben rested and ate and slept and rested some more. It was, by his count, seven days since he had arrived in Thet, and inactivity was making him want to tear his hair out. He had seen little of his hosts except in the evenings. On the eighth day, the third since his nightmare, Shaarm, Pakat and Ooouli were at work and school, Chana had gone out to share his new poem, and Grandmother and Tiki were visiting some of the other village children. Ben was left entirely alone and to his own devices. Although, as Shaarm had firmly instructed, said devices came with strict limitations, and essentially comprised resting and very short walks. Ben was not to leave the house under any circumstances, short of an actual fire. Ben had tried not to let his frustration show. Being convalescent, it seemed, did not suit him. It felt too close to idleness.

Keen to do something productive with his forced downtime, Ben had set himself to learning the written language of the Kheelians. He had been making some progress, but it was just not as quickly as he would like. Irritated again by his own lack of patience, Ben abandoned the task by mid-morning in frustration.

Shaarm's psychologist colleague had apparently suggested that drawing or painting might be a way to access Ben's buried memories, and Chana had left out some art materials for him to him to try. Not feeling particularly positive about the attempt, Ben had made a few token swirls on the page. He was not shocked when the activity caused no new memories to be miraculously unlocked. His dreams over the last few days had been only of the family and the house in Thet, or of his trek across the moor. He did not dream of the metal room again, but Ben did not think that was necessarily a sign of improvement. His head ached almost constantly and he had three more nosebleeds.

Ben felt like he was at his wits end when a humming at the door around midday heralded the return of Pakat.

"Please give me something to do!" Ben implored the Kheelian the moment he was through the door.

Pakat laughed, setting down his equipment. "You are not bored, are you? How did your painting go?"

"Terribly," Ben sighed. "I definitely was no artist in my former life, I can assure you. But there must be something I can do around the place. Just for a turn or two. I won't tell Shaarm if you don't."

The Kheelian smiled. "Well, first you can eat the midday meal with me. And then...has someone showed you how to use the datastream yet?"

"Datastream?"

"Yes, most homes do not have one, but we have connection through Shaarm's work. You could access most of the collected knowledge of our people from there, if you were interested. Perhaps we can find something in there that will spark off your memories."

Ben was elated. "I am most certainly interested. Would you show me? I am making some progress learning to read, but something a bit more engaging than Tiki's books would help. I would be most intrigued to learn more about the Kheelians."

"Very good. Food first, and then I will show you how to get on to the system and make a search. You will have to use my Ident access details for now, until you can get some of your own."

Those last words were just a casual aside, but they hung in Ben's mind as he and Pakat prepared a small lunchtime meal. If he was going to live on this world, he would need an identity. The Kheelians clearly had a fairly sophisticated societal structure – he had heard mention of healthcare and currency, there was employment, transportation, Ooouli's schooling... All of those things invariably came with a form of citizen registration, and using those services left traces. Shaarm had said that they had not yet informed the authorities that Ben had been living at their house. Who knew what sort of registration process that might involve. But looking at it another way; if he belonged in this country, then someone must have a record. A report of a missing person, perhaps, if there was some form of law enforcement agency as Shaarm's words suggested, and if he had someone to miss him. Unpaid bills or fees, or an even unclaimed transport. But, there was still a lingering fear in his mind. That voice that on the moor had told him to run run run and don't look back. He was still in danger, but whether that was from the person who had captured him or from some other menace, he wasn't certain. Perhaps he was even a criminal, who had been lawfully detained, and would be immediately returned by those authorities to the metal room. Perhaps he did not belong on this planet at all.

"Have you had any success with your work problem?" Ben asked as they sat down to eat, to get his mind off that disconcerting line of thought.

"Work problem?" Pakat looked confused.

"You work on the moor, isn't that right? You had seemed to have some recent concerns."

"Oh, I see," the Kheelian nodded. "Well, I am afraid it cannot really be resolved. We can only monitor the situation."

"Is there something wrong? You are an ecologist, is that the right word?"

"Yes, that is right. My job is to work with the new wind farms and solar farms we need. We are suffering from something of an energy crisis at the moment as our population grows but our resources do not, and the river is drying up. I came here to study the impact of the wind farms on the ecosystems of the moor. The problem is the narms- the creatures who live on the moor. They are not indigenous to that area you see, they came down from the mountains about five hundred years ago when the climate started to change, looking for food. They are incredibly territorial, and it is quite fascinating how the smaller predators have adapted to- Well, I can get carried away with my subject, I am afraid."

"No, go on." Ben was fascinated, and it was the most he had ever heard Pakat say.

"Do you know what narms are? No? They are four-legged animals, with small heads and necks like a Pechnar, but large powerful jaws. They have long spines in green or brown. There is a theory that Kheelians and narms share a common ancestry – quite fascinating. Anyway, they are interesting in their own way but can be quite vicious to other species. They used to attack the villages up until about thirty years ago, looking for food. Times were more desperate then, for everyone."

"So you built the palisade fence?" Ben guessed.

Pakat clarified. "It was a strategic measure constructed in the War, but it proved its use since. In case of a large group attack, the livestock and houses will be easily protected behind the fence. The numbers of the narms have dropped significantly since then and they have not been thought a threat to us for many years. The village expanded beyond the fence, about ten years ago."

"And now?"

"We are not sure what happened, but the narms have been growing bolder and bolder over the past few months. I have been trying to work out why their behaviour has changed so radically. In the past week we have heard of narms killing livestock out in the fields, and yesterday it was reported that a pack had attacked a child in a village on the other side of the moor. They are not a threat to us individually, but in large numbers they could do some damage. They are quite small you see. About the height of a small Kheelian child."

About my height then, thought Ben. I have a very bad feeling about this.

"You told Chana you woke up on the moor," Pakat had put down his spoon and was looking at Ben intently. "I do not suppose you can remember anything about what you saw?"

Ben shrugged, sipping his tea. "Yes, a little. But I am certain I did not see anything like you describe."

"That is fine, I would be interested in anything you can remember. Did you see any creatures, or animal tracks at all?"

Ben thought. "No, I don't...Oh, wait, yes, there were two birds. I remember. I...woke up, lying on my face in the bog in one of the river gullies. I realised I was injured. After I climbed onto the bank, I could see the rocks which stand on the cliff edge in the distance. At the time I though they might be buildings, so I headed towards them."

"I do not suppose you know which direction you walked?"

Ben shook his head. "The sun was behind the clouds."

"Wait a moment," Pakat leapt up and disappeared into one of the sleeping rooms. He quickly returned with a small palm-sized holoprojector, and placed it in the middle of the floor. A huge topographic hologram map of the moor flickered into life, filling the room from wall to wall. Ben slid down from his box-seat and landed up to his waist in it. Pakat flicked his fingers and the map contracted slightly, now stretching only across the open area. The Kheelian span the map round with a twist of his hand until the rock towers and the waterfall were laid out before them in miniature.

"Well, here are the rock stacks," Pakat moved and arm and the projected rocks shot past them, until they were standing out in the moor, shimmering blue. At this scale, the thousand water gullies were just visible, like ripples on sand. "What else did you see?"

Ben considered. "There was nothing significant until I came to a stream. There was black earth, white rocks...and a huge tree stump on the edge of the riverbed where it went passed around a bend."

"I know the place!" Pakat was looking excited. "Grandfather Kender, they call it. The last tree on the moor. Here..."

He manipulated the map, and it rushed past them at great speed until they were looking into a tiny scale version of the place Ben remembered.

"Yes, that is where I saw the birds," Ben added. "Two, nesting in the bushes I think. They were brown, but I don't remember anything else about them. Oh, yes, the sun did come out briefly, just as it was setting. It was behind me as I looked towards the rocks."

"Good!" Pakat made an quick calculation on a datapad. "Sunset was at 19 turns 21 on the day we found you. We can tell where know where you were, and when."

Ben started to feel the same excitement.

"We know that then you headed to the Grey Kings- that is to say, the rock pillars on the cliff edge. Did you stop at all?"

Ben folded his arms, rubbing his beard with his right hand as he considered. "No, I don't think so. I couldn't have been walking very fast though. By the time I reached the rocks it was almost fully dark. I climbed up to have a look around, and I could see the lights of the village, but not the cliff edge. I don't really remember what happened after that, but I think I must have followed the river to the waterfall, and found the stairs."

"Fully dark...let us say about 21 turns," murmured Pakat, tapping at the datapad. "Grandmother found you on the path by the house at 15 past 23 turns, which means it took you two complete turns to climb down the stairs and follow the road. That sounds about accurate."

Ben nodded, unsure if it did or not. Pakat stood, and gestured to the map, which flew past them again, until it slowed to a stop at the point by the river and the tree stump. "I think we can say that before this point, given your injuries, you could not have gone faster than the speed of half a length per standard, which is how quickly you moved between Grandfather Kender and the Grey Kings."

"Slower, I should say," Ben added. "I did not pick up a stick to use as a crutch until the river, so it was harder going before that."

Pakat nodded, and spun the map again. "You said the sun was under cloud when you woke? The sun was out in the morning that day… it was not until around 70 after 16 turns that it clouded over. If we assume you woke up and started to walk in a more or less straight line towards the river, that means you woke up somewhere...here."

The Kheelian clicked, and then waved his hand. A golden light shimmered into life. It followed after the motion of his fingers and highlighted a narrow arc across the map. Ben stared at the area, his heart pounding. Was somewhere in that place the spot where he had first woken? The ground where his life as he knew it had begun, as if the moor itself had suddenly brought him into being. Was there an answer to his mystery, somewhere in that shimmering light? Ben was startled from his introspection by Pakat. The Kheelian's attention had been drawn away from the highlighted area, and he was staring intently beyond it at a distant place, out in heart of the moor.

"What is it?" Ben asked.

In answer, Pakat drew the hologram closer, and expanded the area that had caught his interest. There was something there. A dark shape, out in the marsh. The image flickered, distorted by the scale.

"What is it?" Ben asked again. "Is it another rock outcrop?"

"I know this moor very well," answered Pakat slowly. "I have worked here for fifteen years, and there is nothing in that area. It is flat, open moor. This image is formed from data from our satellites. It is from three days ago."

They both starred at the flickering shape on the moor, hearts racing.

"What are the chances," Ben murmured, "that two strange things should appear on an area of deserted moor at the same time and their appearance not be related?"

"Very low, my friend," said Pakat.

Ben closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating. He felt as if there was something he had missed. Something important. He cast his mind back to the moments of waking on the moor. What had he seen? Heard? Smelt?"

"I just remembered something!" He said, with a growing sense of urgency. "When I woke, I could smell something. I thought it was smoke...chemicals..."

They looked at each other.

"Rocket fuel," they said at the same time.

The remainder of the afternoon was written off as far as Pakat's work was concerned. Ben and Pakat spent most of the time using the datastream to research space travel and types of ship. The Kheelians did not have much in the way of space-fairing interests it emerged, and the spaces ports in the City were small, and mainly concerned with Pechnar transport and a small amount of trade. Ben could remember nothing about ships or flying them, beyond a basic knowledge of engineering, even when prompted with diagrams and images. After a frustrating few turns, they were forced to give up and quickly begin preparing the evening meal before the others returned. Ben managed to persuade Pakat to let him help, peeling and cutting up vegetables while they speculated wildly and jokingly about his life as a space adventurer.

The pair of them were like excited children that evening, and they barely managed to contain their discovery long enough to wait for all the family to return. As it was, Shaarm only just managed to finish the giving of thanks at the start of the meal, before Chana dragged the information out of them.

"You had better tell us whatever it is, Pakat! The pair of you look as if you have a bad case of Tremanian fire fleas!"

Pakat didn't need much encouragement. "We know how Ben got here."

There was a stunned silence, and not only because of the normally-restrained Kheelian's outburst. Then there was a clamouring of voices, and the children cheering with delight. Shaarm's was the most easy question to pick out.

"How! What happened? Did some memories come back?"

"No, I don't remember anything yet, I am afraid. But Pakat will show you what we found."

Pakat lit up the holomap again, and pointed to a small yellow marker dot, which pulsed gently.

"We calculated how fast Ben was walking that day from landmarks he remembers, and the time of day, and we worked out that he was somewhere near this point when he first awoke. We were looking at the area when I saw this."

He expanded the hologram of the mysterious dark object and it hovered blue and ghostly above the dining table. Everyone stood up, crowding forward to see.

"What is it?" Chana and Grandmother both asked.

"It looks like an egg!" said Ooouli, and Ben had to admit, it did look rather egg-like.

"We think it's a ship," said Pakat. "A crashed space craft."

Ooouli gasped, and Grandmother sat back in astonishment.

"Of course!" Chana cried. "That makes perfect sense! That is how he could get into the middle of the moor without transport."

Shaarm was nodding too, "Some of your injuries would be consistent with a vehicle crash, so that does indeed seem to be consistent. But how do you know how to fly a ship? Do you think you are a pilot?"

Ben shrugged, "Well, if I am, it doesn't look like I am a very good one! That ship, or whatever it is, is definitely out there, and it seems only logical that its appearance and mine are somehow related. I suppose that puts an end to my theory that I came from the City, which is how I was familiar with your language. I thought perhaps when I was..." he cast a glance at the children. They had all been vary careful not to mention the circumstances of Ben's injuries in front of them. "I thought that the people who I was with before might have left me on the moor on purpose."

Left him there to die, was what the adult Kheelians understood from his words. Or dumped what they thought was his lifeless body somewhere no-one would find it.

"We must go out there and see it," said Chana, excitably. "Who knows what could be out there! We could find ownership documents with ID, or transport logs, or even some of Ben's possessions..."

"We might find a burnt pile of scrap," Ben reminded him. "Let us not get too over-excited. Passion, yet serenity."

"Chana is right. We do need to go out there," Pakat mused. "If the ship did crash and the fuel cells or other chemicals are leaking from it, then we need to know as soon as possible. We could be facing an ecological disaster."

Ben hadn't considered that, He looked down, suddenly feeling guilty and uncomfortable. Pakat rubbed the back of his neck soothingly. He hadn't meant to cast any blame on Ben.

"What about the narms?" Ben asked, reminded of another issue. "Will they not attack us if we go onto the moor?"

"We cross their territories often during the course of our work," said Pakat. "They are nocturnal and will not be interested in us in the day, particularly if we do not go too near their nesting grounds. I would not be concerned with them."

"Is it Ben's space ship?" said Ooouli, who was bouncing about on her feet with excitement. "That is so cool! Does it travel in hyperspace? How big is it? Perhaps you will find some of his friends there!"

There was a sudden, chilling pause as the adults processed the child's innocent words for what exactly they might imply. No-one had yet considered that Ben might not have been alone in the craft when it crashed. He himself had barely survived, and the fact that he was still breathing now was astonishing. For a second person to have survived, and to still be alive – the chances were beyond impossible. The thought of stumbling onto a blackened wreckage strewn with cold corpses suddenly filled their thoughts.

"Yes, perhaps." Ben answered Ooouli, trying not to sound as horrified as he felt. "But I think it is highly unlikely."

"If there is any possibility, however small, that this ship exists then we must go and see," Chana said, and all three of them turned to Shaarm, unintentionally waiting for her approval.

There was silence for a moment as she considered, and then the Kheelian woman sighed. "Yes, I think we must. Although if Pakat's concerns are right then I am not sure what we are going to do about it. When should we go?"

"Tomorrow!" said Chana and Ooouli at the same time. Tiki laughed, and banged her spoon on the table.

"I want to go too!" said Ooouli.

"I am due to take the last measurements of the water volume tomorrow, before the Falling," Pakat said. "So I will be up near Grandfather Kender anyway. It is close."

"Tomorrow I have an important surgery scheduled, and then I am working in the emergency department in the afternoon," Shaarm said. "And it is certainly far too soon for Ben to be making such a long trip tomorrow."

Ben's heart raced at the thought she might confine him to the house for more time. "I have been resting for three days now," he contended, "and I feel very well. My other problems, like my leg, are not going to improve significantly for further days of rest; in fact it might take weeks for those to improve. Pakat is right that we should act straight away, but I have to go as well, for who knows what I might see or remember when looking at the ship. Also," he added, having exhausted all his logical arguments. "If I have to stay here on my own with nothing to do for another day I will probably go completely mad."

"I do not think he is joking about that!" Chana said to Shaarm.

She sighed, looking frustrated. "Very well," she reluctantly. "But you, young lady, are certainly not going."

Ooouli frowned; "But-"

"No," said Shaarm firmly. "You know the moor is not safe, and besides, you have your Galactic Basic exam tomorrow that you and Ben have been working towards."

"Oh yes!" Ooouli brightened. She was very excited to show her teachers everything that she had been learning in the past week, although she obviously was disappointed at not going to be able to go on what she saw as an adventure. "You will take some holopics for me, though? A real spaceship!"

Ben smiled. "I will," he promised, although he knew whether on not the little girl got her pictures would very much depend on what exactly it was they found out there.

"I have another condition," Shaarm continued, as if the previous exchange had not occurred. "And that is that Ben must walk as little as possible. You can ride on Chana or Pakat's backs."

"But-" said Ben, aware he sounded like Ooouli's echo.

"No!" laughed Shaarm, "Enough complaints; there are two mischievous children already in this house. You will please do as your doctor bids, Ben."

"I will," he agreed.

The Kheelians spent the remainder of the evening preparing for their expedition tomorrow. An antigrav cart with long handles and a yoke was set up in the yard in front of the house. Two crates, a tarpaulin and several tools were packed onto it. Heavier cloaks and garments were laid out, and a meal was packed. For his part, Ben tried to focus on helping Ooouli with the last of her revision, but neither of their minds were fully on the work. The girl would break off every few moments to ask him questions about space travel he had no hope of knowing the answers to, or with wild guesses about his possible galactic career (everything from Republican senator to spice smuggler). While Ben knew she was just excited, her guesses were starting to unnerve him. None of those options sounded appealing. He couldn't be criminal...could he? And a politician...that might even be worse.

When the time came to settle down for the night Ben's mind was buzzing. He lay on his thin sleeping mat and starred up at the dim ceiling, his thoughts crowding into his mind. A ship…perhaps he would see it and all of his memories would come flooding back. Perhaps, by the end of tomorrow, he would have his own identity once more. Or, more likely, the ship would be nothing more than just so much scrap metal half sunk into the bog, and they would learn nothing. Maybe what they were looking for would not even be a ship at all, but just some glitch on the satellite mapping. Or, another scenario; what if it was a ship, but they found he had not been alone at all...Ben pictured himself waking up as the only survivor of a brutal crash, climbing through the still-warm, bleeding corpses of his friends and family, crawling out into the mud only for grief and horror to drive him out of his mind….

He fell into an uneasy sleep that twisted into dreams even more confusing that his waking thoughts.

He is in a corridor. Metal walls and metal floor. Putting one foot in front of the other is not easy, but he's doing his best. Warmth at his elbow- someone his holding his arm. There's a man; young, tall, sandy haired, almost dragging him along. The bloody wound on Ben's thigh is on fire at the punishing pace. He stops suddenly, planting both feet, and drags his arm out of the man's grip, stumbling back.

The man turns; "Hey! What are you-"

Ben sees crystal blue eyes and the face of a stranger. He doesn't know where he is, or what is happening. Fear bursts into life in his chest, crawling up his veins, closing his throat. The man moves towards him, and Ben backs away.

"What the hells...?"

"I don't know you," he manages to gasp out. "What's happening?"

"Sithspit!" The man curses, but tries to hold back his obviously rising frustration, raising his hands placating. "Look, we really don't have the time for this...I'm your friend, we've known each other for nearly twelve years. You were captured by some very bad people and now I am trying to rescue you, and we have already had this conversation. Twice. I know everything seems weird and confusing right now, but you gotta trust me, okay? And right now, we gotta go."

The man makes to take hold of Ben's elbow again, but Ben stumbles back out of reach, shaking his head.

"I don't believe you. Don't touch me!"

There is a distant sound of shouting and crashing somewhere up the corridor that echoes off the cold walls. The stranger twists his head to look, and then turns back to Ben with another curse of frustration.

"Look, I really don't want to have to do this, and I'm sorry in advance, okay? Although I'm really, really hoping you won't remember this anyway…"

The stranger moves his hand from side to side as if he is smoothing a wrinkle out of the air. Ben feels a sudden sense of serenity rush over him like an engulfing wave. He blinks slowly, feeling a lethargy soak into his limbs and his mind.

"You want to come with me," he hears a voice say. He can't help but echo the sound.

"I want to come with you," Ben says, and finds that he desperately does; he wants to follow the stranger with every fibre of his being.

"You're not going to fight me any more,"

"I'm not going to fight you any more," he assures, far too tranquil and at peace for such a thought to even enter his mind. He finds his arm is raised up over a tall pair of shoulders, and they are moving once more. Ben feels as if he is floating. There is more noise behind, shouting and metallic clangs. The other man twists to look back, but Ben does not. As long as he is with the man, he is content. If only the pain in his head would stop escalating, everything would be perfect.

The floor changes beneath their feet, becoming sloping and echoey. Ben has to step over a raised doorway and looks up to see they are entering a ship. Something red hot flashes past his ear and hits the side of the ship in a shower of sparks and noise. He observes the phenomenon, mildly.It would seem they are being shot at. The space closes in around them as the man drags him inside and closes the hatch, all curved walls and compact metal. The stranger lowers Ben onto the floor and disappears up a narrow corridor into the cockpit. There is more noise outside and each shot against the ship's hull is like an assault directly againstthe pressure in his head. He groans and puts his head in his hands. His nose is gushing blood.

Something is wrong.

TBC!
A/N - An earlier update than usual, all thanks to yesterday being a bank holiday. THANK YOU SO MUCH everyone who has followed or reviewed. Your support and enjoyment means a lot to me.