All the Wrong Reasons
by A.G.Lindsay
Walman was dreaming...real dreams, not Terrian dreams...laced with memories.
He had closed his eyes thinking about why he'd signed onto this accursed mission. About what he'd left behind. About Cassie.
And thoughts of Cassie always made him smile. And dreams of Cassie always left him with a sense of peace.
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This time they were dancing. Round and round, laughing because they didn't really know how to dance. Trusting each other not to step on each other's feet because they really weren't paying attention. It felt good to hold onto each other, to laugh, even if it was only a dream.
But the room dissolved around them and Cassie twirled away, dancing by herself, laughing, beckoning him over to her. He started to walk. Each step got harder to take, as if he was walking in concrete. Finally he couldn't move his feet at all. He called to Cassie, but she didn't seem to hear.
He tried to move his feet again, and noticed a thick carpet of grass growing under them, around him, in a circle about 6 meters in diameter. He could move within the circle, but no farther. And the grass grew.
Higher and higher until it was up to his waist. Now up to his shoulder. Cassie stopped dancing and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Robert. It was such an interesting project. I'm not going to be gone more than a couple of years."
The grass on the edge of the ring had turned to bushes, then to trees. And the trees grew closer and closer together. Cassie seemed to notice something was wrong and started to walk towards him. She reached out her hand.
Walman reached out his. Almost there. Almost touching. He stretched a little further, closed his eyes, could feel the coolness of her fingers.
When he opened his eyes he was face to face with a Terrian. He flinched back his hand...
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...And sat up. It was the first time he'd dreamed of the Terrians, and he was not sure why. Alonzo Solace usually did that. They seemed to prefer Alonzo to the other Edenites, which was fine by Walman.
He was hit by a sudden longing to get back to the stations and Cassie. Unfinished business. Unasked questions. Now they would never be asked. He tried to shove the depression back into place as if it were an old shirt being shoved into a suitcase.
Cassie was clever. Walman had no doubt that she would have figured out a way to survive 44 years with minimal aging just so she could finish the argument they'd had before she'd left. Supervising structural engineering projects on the rim of explored space, most likely. And she was good, in demand. If she'd been around, Devon Adair most likely would have tapped her for the Eden Project.
Unable to return to sleep, Walman flung off his blankets and walked out of the tent. There were still stars out, but the sky had lightened a bit, as if balanced between night and morning. Were they the same stars Cassie was looking at?
Why had he signed on with this foolish mission? Even if it had gone according to plan, how could he expect someone to wait for him to return after all this time? Alonzo didn't even bother. When he was out of range of the stations, he simply threw away any pictures of whomever he had gotten close to.
But Alonzo didn't have to worry. He could have anyone. He cultivated being unattached. He was handsome and probably rich as well. After so many journeys requiring cold sleep, he'd been one of the most experienced pilots and could command top money.
Walman himself was getting paid more for this job than he'd ever dreamed of making and he was only a tech. Money that could pay off his debts, afford him a better way of life, a marriage.
Married, he always thought, to Cassie, although he'd never discussed it with her. Now that was totally impossible. Dogmatically realistic, she'd have found someone else, he thought. A structural engineer as good as Cassie. As pretty as Cassie, with her gray eyes and red hair. He should take his cue from Alonzo and throw out his memories of her as Alonzo had thrown out his photos.
But, Walman wasn't prepared to let go of his former life. He was still furious at Cassie for taking her last mission without even discussing it was him. "It's such an interesting project. I'm not going to be gone more than a couple of years."
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Walman trudged over to the cooking dome. Maybe a cup of coffee and breakfast would exorcise the dream and Cassie. Baines was already seated and called over to him. Walman sat down. "Up early again," noted Baines.
"Ever think what it'll be like, going back to the stations?" he said without preamble. Baines had never met Walman before this mission, but they shared a similar background as techs and now they were nearly inseparable.
"What brought that up?"
"I was just thinking. I don't suppose it would be any different than it was when we left except people'll be older. It's only 40-some years." He said it like a man who needed reassurance.
"I don't know. It's strange to think of my 'kid' brother being older than me. Anything could have happened. A totally new counsel, a totally changed Port Authority."
"They could use a totally new Port Authority. I've never seen a bigger bunch of incompetents," said Aviles as she sat down. "Anyway, if we get back there, how are they going to explain that we didn't blow up like the vids showed we did?"
Baines and Walman looked at her and then turned back to their conversation. There was still a bit of a gap between the crew and the colonists. The colonists had totally given up life on the stations before they left. The crew, for the most part, still planned to go back. It may have been an incompetent Port Authority, but it was still THEIR Port Authority.
And anyway, this was not the reassurance that Walman was looking for, so he changed the subject. "Guard duty tonight?"
"Yeah, I'll sure be glad when we get that perimeter laser working," replied Baines.
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Later, Walman was watching the sun set. It was something he would probably never see again after they got to New Pacifica and they hopped the Colony ship home. Cassie would have loved G889. He could see her here. She would have been fascinated by the sunsets, the soil, the rocks, the weather, even the mountains and the caves that the Terrians and Shepherd's people inhabited.
He had the first shift tonight. As it got dark, there was always movement and noise surrounding the camp. G889 was alive. It was almost as seductive in its variety. Who would have thought that there could have been so many different plants, animals. "Earth was like this once," thought Walman.
He thought about breakfast as he shouldered his rifle and set out for the perimeter of the camp. It would be so much easier to go home, if they hadn't known about the broadcast showing the Eden Project colony ships being blown up. There would have been no decision to make...no reason to stay, even reason to go.
Walman thought again of Cassie. She would have known who to listen to and what questions to ask. Who to trust and who to laugh at. She would have decided what to do about returning the stations and she would never have doubted her decision after she'd made it.
"What decision would Cassie have made?" Walman asked himself.
Devon was good. She was smart. Cassie would appreciate that. She would have enjoyed exploring a new planet, building new things. Cassie would have made a perfect pioneer, much more balanced between curiosity and caution than Devon, than any of them, really. Certainly more so than him.
But when push came to shove, Devon was planning on dying on this planet when she was old and gray. Like the other colonists, she had made a commitment to making the Eden Project work. All her life's savings, her reputation, her son's life. "Do I want that?" Walman asked himself.
When he'd left, it was only the money that had dragged him away from stations. Danziger had run into him in a bar a couple of months ago and mentioned the Eden Project and how well Devon Adair was paying. Walman remembered thinking that it served Cassie right for not being around to be asked about this job.
A couple of months ago...22 years ago. Walman looked out beyond the perimeter, his eyes getting used to the darkening twilight. It wouldn't take him too much longer to get used to the sounds G889 made as it was settling down for the night. Nights were darker on the stations. The stars were brighter. And yet, he couldn't help but think that this was the way they should be living, him and Cassie.
No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on watching the perimeter, his mind always seemed to cycle back to her, as if she held the key to a decision he had to make. "It was the right decision to take the Eden Project," Walman thought, a little less tentatively than he had before, "even if it was for all the wrong reasons..." the money, to get back at Cassie.
But the decision to stay or to go couldn't be made on a whim. It had to be made for the right reasons, so he could leave G889 behind or put aside any plans for a life with Cassie with no regrets. But which?
When they had first crashed, he had put his trust in Danziger. Danziger had a life on the station. And Danziger had repeatedly stated he was going to back to the stations. They were techs, not colonists.
He had worked with the mechanic on several jobs. When their bosses weren't around, John Danziger was a good guy to work with. He did what he said he would, and he expected everyone around him to do the same. Walman respected that.
He liked Danziger's odd sense of humor, shared it himself. It was why they got on well together. But other than that, they had little in common. Walman got on well with most people, but he didn't always like them and they seldom knew that.
Danziger seemed incapable of hiding his dislike of his bosses usually, but this time he to be learning how to handle it, thought Walman, with a grin. Usually, he would just nod and go off and do what he was told. Walman had seen him avoid his employers on more than one occasion, not to avoid work, but simply to avoid the politics that came with the situation. The work was never the problem.
It has been a source of great amusement, and not a little chagrin, that they'd often had to go find Danziger because he was not wearing his gear just so he wouldn't be "interrupted" by the "frivolous demands" of his bosses. At first, Walman had thought he was avoiding everybody, but Danziger just didn't like being sidetracked by things he saw as unimportant.
As night grew longer, Walman felt G889 surround him. Mountains and gorges and grass and trees: it was a REAL planet, not like projections in a museum. Cassie had said on more than one occasion that people should live on planets, like this. Now he had, accidentally, been given the opportunity, the decision. Stay or go. Adair or Danziger.
Walman thought he had nodded off when he heard a sound to his right. It was almost the end of his watch. It could be he replacement, although usually they called on gear first. Who was replacing on watch? Danziger? That would explain why there wasn't a call.
Walman reached up to flip over the eyepiece on his gear to check in with Baines in the sector next to him...
...And found it was gone! Briefly, he thought he might have "pulled a Danziger" and not worn it in the first place, but he remembered checking in with Baines at the beginning of the watch.
The noise was off the right.
Usually Grendlers didn't like to get so close to the humans, but a gear set might be a big enough incentive. Who knew what the Grendlers did with the stuff, what they found valuable. Walman swore under his breath and started off in the direction he had heard the noise.
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It was darker than he thought away from the perimeter. He paused to listen for the crunching of feet off to the right. There it was, straight ahead, a glint of light.
He rushed forward only to feel the ground disappear from under his feet, a sliding, sliding and then he was falling. He thought he screamed, or was that only in his head? He woke hearing Cassie's voice calling his name.
"Robert?"
"Uh, Cass," groaned Walman, "where are you?" It was dark, dark, as if he had fallen deep into the ground where the Terrians lived. Darker than night in the stations. No stars.
He tried to sit up and clutched his head in pain. His fingers came away sticky with sweat and dirt, possibly blood. His stomach felt like it was trying to turn inside out. A groan he could not restrain escaped his lips. He thought he heard an echo. Another groan. Not his.
Slowly, Walman eased himself up until he was sitting. The world was still spinning. He heard his name again, "Robert?"
Even though he knew she was 22 light years away and it couldn't be her, he felt his heart leap. "...Help."
He patted his belt and pockets, looking for his flashlight. Where was he and who was here with him? At the corner of his eye, there was a flicker of light, like a flame. Cassie?
But, when he looked it wasn't there. Where was the flashlight?
He turned his head again, and there she was, just in his peripheral vision, indistinct as a ghost. Keeping his eyes away from the light, he crawled towards it, felt around for the lamp.
When he had crawled for what felt like an eternity, stopping every few minutes to lay his throbbing head down on the ground, his hand closed around a...what? A wrist! Cassie? It jerked away.
He heard a whimper and smelled Grendler and knew it wasn't Cassie. Cassie wasn't on G889. He should just stopping wasting time thinking about her and accept...accept what? That he was stranded at the edge of the Universe buried a mile or more down, forever.
He could all but hear Cassie laugh over that one. Hyperbole. He grasped onto another Cassie-ism: "Every new situation has a lesson to be learned."
He groped a little more: rock, sand, rock, rock...box! His torch. He turned it on. The light was gray and grainy, flickering. It must have not been fully charged at the beginning of his watch. It wouldn't last too long.
He looked around. The Grendler was half sitting, half lying not too far from him, bleeding, in as bad shape as Walman himself was. They were in some kind of pit, the light did not illuminate a ceiling, but there were no stars visible. They were deep.
The bottom of the pit seemed very large. Again, the light only revealed a section. The walls were bumpy near the bottom, with good handholds, if he had been in any condition to climb. Farther up, however, it looked it smoothed out.
There had to be a doorway to the underground caves which seemed to riddle the planet somewhere in the dark, he decided. Walman got to his hands and knees, ignoring the groaning Grendler, and then, shakily, tried to stand.
So far so good. The first step sent him to his knees with a stab of pain light a lightning bolt. He sat down and felt his leg. Painful, very painful, but nothing broken. Probably a bad sprain.
If he'd had his gear he could call Baines and the group could trace him and throw a rope down. As it was, with the concussion he no doubt had, he would require help to escape from the pit.
The only help available was the Grendler which looked more dead than alive. He thought, wryly, he probably looked the same way to the Grendler.
He'd never tried to talk with a Grendler. He wasn't a colonist and he didn't need to make nice with the natives. He wished he'd paid more attention to Bess Martin and Danziger's girl when they tried to communicate with the aliens. The only thing he could think of was they were natural traders.
The only problem was that he didn't have anything to trade. The flashlight was fading, and he needed that anyway. Maybe he could ask about his gear.
He dragged himself over to the Grendler who was whimpering now. "I'm not going to hurt you." he said, hoping this Grendler had had some exposure to human languages from the penal colonists and the scientists who had come before. "We need to get out of here."
The Grendler stopped whimpering and stared at him. He looked hopeful, thought Walman. Maybe that's a good sign.
Walman mimed putting his vid gear over his head and flipping the eyepiece, then he pointed at the Grendler. It just whimpered. It didn't seem to understand and Walman couldn't think of any other way to communicate.
"I'll help you stand up and you help me," said Walman, starting to rise, moving his hands in a sort of made-up sign language. When he was standing, balanced on one leg, he held his hand out to the Grendler.
The Grendler mimicked his movements and soon they both were wobbling in the wavering light of the flashlight. Instead of reaching out to lean on Walman, though, the Grendler stopped. He pointed at Walman, grunted, then pointed at the wall beyond.
"What the..." Walman started, as he watched the Grendler lean against the wall, feeling for an opening. Of course, with the lamp going dim, the easiest way to find a way out was feel around for one. Obviously, the Grendler had assigned Walman to look counterclockwise. He turned off his lamp to save its charge.
After a while, Walman found a pile of what seemed like loose rocks. "A-ha! I think I've found it," he said as he turned the light on. He started pulling rocks off the pile, and a few minutes later smelled cooler air of a passageway beyond. "It's here, it's here!"
The Grendler had groped its way back to Walman and was now helping him pull the rocks off the pile, some so big it took both of them to move them. Soon the space was big enough for a human to crawl through.
Walman wriggled through the hole and hopped down the passageway several meters. It looked good. He'd be back to the camp before daybreak.
He heard his friend from the cave moan. Odd how earlier this evening he would have sooner shot the Grendler than helped it and now he was thinking of it as "his friend."
He limped back and helped move more rocks to enlarge the hole, and helped drag the Grendler through. By this time, the light was flickering to nothing. If it went out, how was he to find his way in the dark passageways?
Grendler and human, each leaning on the other, set out to find the way out.
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They must have gone miles, thought Walman. It's probably noon. But, by this time he was feeling giddy and tired and his leg and his head were throbbing painfully. He barely felt the weight of the Grendler leaning against him, barely smelled it anymore.
The Grendler was crooning, as if it was also feeling tired and in pain, trying to keep his spirits up. Or his own. Where were they?
The two moved like companionable drunkards leaving a bar at closing, bouncing off of walls, choosing passageways at random, Walman thought. Who knows where we'll end up. He started singing old hymns, spirituals, any uplifting song he could remember the lyrics to and which would keep him awake.
Finally his strength gave out. Stars and circles danced before his eyes and he didn't even say "oomph" before his head hit the dirt floor of the cave. All he could think of was that, somehow, he had failed to learn anything from this experience. The Grendler would leave him for dead and he would never escape from the caves.
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They found him at daybreak in a ravine not far from the perimeter, clutching his gear to his chest. It was broken.
Julia ran the diagnostic glove over him and confirmed that he had a concussion as well as a nasty sprain. "You'd better take it easy for the next day or two," her advice, but Walman ignored it.
Walman limped back out to the perimeter and looked beyond it to the mountains. He had never really thought about living on a planet, with other intelligent creatures that were unlike himself. Somehow that had always seemed to be uncomfortable comfortable thought.
But as he looked at the sunset on G889, he realized, he had finally come to terms with it. He might go home or not when they met the Colony ship, but until then, Cassie was right, he had alot to learn right here.
-The End-
Story Notes:
I set this story at the winter camp before "Flower Child." What can I say? I like the supporting characters...
Chapter End Notes:
A.G.Lindsay, PP-ASEL * Cloud Rental: Reasonable Rates * agl@world.std.com
Art Director * LineScience, Ltd. * 10 Meridian Parkway * Malden, MA
There are two Rules of Life from which all others derive:
Don't be Stupid. 2. Don't be a jerk.