Aynsefian

I look at Salvation again. There’s nine-point-nine-eight kilometres left until we reach this mythical, magical moisture. I don’t know how we’re doing this – keeping walking like we are. My legs are numb. They’ve gone beyond being sore. Through the pain, hunger and thirst, I’m amazed that Arlyss and Cindlyss are still upright. They are such delicate, gentle creatures. I fear this journey might kill them.

I peer into the distance beyond our probe. I can’t see anything obvious, but there is a subtle change in the terrain. It seems like we’re now going up a gentle incline. I trudge along after Salvation for a while, my head down, just focussing on putting one foot after the other.

The walking has indeed gotten subtly harder, even without my carrying of the panels. My fingers are still numb. Even worse than that, I am totally exhausted. Actually, no: that’s not the worst of it.

I’m now alone.

What? Where are Arlyss and Cindlyss? My mental fog doesn’t allow me to panic, at least not initially. I’m feeling desperation, instead. I’d been plugging along, walking after Salvation, feeling horrible, without regularly checking on where my companions are, as I had been up until the last kilometre or so. Or however long it has been. I should never have let this happen.

I turn around quickly. Where did they go?

I can’t see them anywhere. “No!!” I cry, into the wind. “Noooooo!!!”

How did this happen? I don’t have an answer. I start almost running back the way I came. I can’t believe how mentally difficult this whole experience is getting. Every time I think things couldn’t possibly be worse, I’m proven wrong by the next hardship that piles on top of all of the previous ones.

My foggy brain aside, I should have done better. I should have been more careful and worked harder at checking on them. They are more fragile than I am. How could I… why did I… I can’t even form cohesive thoughts with which to admonish myself.

There’s only one conclusion: it’s my fault.

I keep running; the desperation rising and giving in to panic. I’m stumbling and I have to be really careful. If I fall over I may not survive the injuries I’ll suffer by hitting the ground at this speed. The desperation and panic washes over me in waves and waves.

If I’m going to die here, I don’t want to die alone. I absolutely must find them or die trying.

I am totally alone, facing my death, and it’s not what I had hoped for myself when I started out all those years ago.

I briefly think of what I dreamed of in those days: finding a paradise planet that is uninhabited, and with plenty of space. It’s warm and tropical, with plenty of green trees and beautiful birdlife. Small, cute animals. Abundant resources.

I return home and tell my planetary government what I’ve found, covering myself in glory. We send a small colonising team out and we begin a new life for our species. I am immortalised, despite how often I keep telling everyone that I wasn’t doing it for myself. I was doing it for all of us. It was perhaps somewhat far-fetched, but not impossible, to dream of this.

Now it appears like I will die alone, in desperation and panic, in the cold, on the rocks and dirt of this hell of a planet. I’m lost and hopeless.

Unless by some miracle I find them.

Some more blind running for a minute or so, anguished tears in my eyes and the worst feeling of dread and horror I could ever have possibly imagined. Then, amazing relief: I see them. They are on the ground, behind a largish rock, about a hundred metres away.

They’re not moving. If they’re dead, I may as well lay down next to them and die as well. It’ll be easier than coping alone.

I reach them quickly and drop to the ground next to them. They stir at the sound of me. Oh thank God. They’re alive. I look at each of them in the face, through the mask of the suit, looking for signs of life. Cindlyss opens their eyes and regards me with extreme fatigue. I muster all the compassion I can. Arlyss is next and they are much the same.

We’ll stop here for the night, even though there are a few daylight hours left. It’s a decent sized rock just here and it does provide a break in the wind. Salvation, bless him, has circled back around and joined us.

Despite the emotional anguish of the last few minutes, I find gratitude within myself towards this little machine. He is our only hope and along with finding the Purlinians, my spirits are raised up a little bit. My gratefulness for Salvation’s construction, his inclusion in Nikse and his existence in my life makes everything a little better for a few moments.

It’s only temporary. We are still isolated, cold, and without food, water or shelter.

I am however thankful to be off my feet again, with the opportunity to sleep. Salvation’s readout says that we have eight-point-three-nine kilometres to go. That will be for tomorrow.

I sleep immediately again, right there on the hard ground.

Nikse wakes me up.

“Axin! Axin!! Don’t give up on me, okay? I need you.” I scan around in the direction of her voice, but I can’t see her anywhere.

Then I look down at the ground. She’s left me a meal. Some beautifully steamed vegetables and rice. I must get a drink to wash it down with. Now where would that be? I’ll ask Nikse.

“Hey Nikse, could you…” I pause. Where is she? She just spoke to me. I must find her. She’s the only one who can get me a drink. Nobody else can. No-one else I’ve ever known in my life can get me a drink like she can.

Oh. I’m wrong. My parents are here! What are they doing here? Doesn’t matter.

“Oh Mum, oh Dad, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I won’t do it again. I’m coming home soon. I’ll just have this…” I look down at the ground. My meal has disappeared. I’m angry now. Who took it? Goddamn it, I was about to eat that!

I look back up at my parents.

“Mum, did you see who took my…?” I don’t even finish the sentence.

“No dear,” she says. “You never had it. You were always such a fussy eater.”

Her look is a bit stern. Dad winks at me. I want to hear one of his jokes. I hope he’ll realise this and tell me. His jokes always cheer me up, even if I’ve heard them a thousand times before.

Something strikes my lower left leg. Oh my god that hurts. I wake up.

Another dream. A rock has fallen from somewhere above and landed on my left ankle, waking me. The wind howls. Of course: I’m still on the surface of AA48103. The pain in my ankle is strong but it’s already beginning to ease. I can deal with some temporary pain.

What I can’t deal with is waking up on this ridiculously brutal planet. The dream was at least some sort of respite from this never-ending hunger, thirst and yearning for shelter and comfort. Maybe that’s the hardest part of all this. We have no shelter. Constant exposure to the elements is the most difficult aspect of this existence, with hunger and thirst not far behind.

It takes a little while, but eventually my exhaustion wins and I fall back asleep. I have no more dreams. I wake again, this time with more awareness of where I am and how I feel. Everything aches, the pit in my stomach is dreadful, and my throat is seriously dry.

I force myself to my feet. It’s daylight. Did I really sleep all night, or is this the same day? No, it’s actually another day. Salvation’s readout says so. His readout still shows eight-point-three-nine kilometres until we reach this fabled destination, whatever it is.

It takes a great deal of encouragement and cajoling to get Arlyss and Cindlyss to rouse from their sleep. They won’t sit up at all, let alone stand up. I can’t leave them here either. I have to get them to their feet.

I haven’t the strength to lift them myself. I’m not sure they’d stay upright if I did.

There’s only one option left to my frazzled mind: we must use the last of the water. I give them a vial each. They don’t object. I drink mine too. It tastes glorious.

It works. They realise they have to get up and they do it themselves. I’m grateful.

Salvation bleeps and we’re on our way. Ever so slowly, but we’re moving. Arlyss and Cindlyss are now next to me, not behind me. I’m not letting them out of my sight.

The extra sleep and the water seems to help them, and they’re able to walk. Perhaps shuffle is a better word. I feel the smallest tinge of hope that we’ll make it. I think of how far we’ve come and how difficult it’s been. The urge to stop and sit back down again is almost overpowering.

Yet we keep walking.