Go to Next Chapter -- Return to Contents/Writer’s Den
Chapter
Thirteen
Disaster
Strikes Again
Rifkin stumbled through the jungle, puffing and panting
with each step. He was ready to
drop any moment from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. His life support system was apparently malfunctioning. He was sweating profusely inside his
suit. After his latest physical
exertions, his air supply registered at barely one sixth full. The gauge indicated that he had
approximately two hours of air before he died of asphyxiation. Proportionately, even after such
physical activity, the gas level should be much higher. The fear that, during his struggles, he
might have sprung a leak in his air supply system was too horrible for him to
comprehend. He was having enough
trouble just worrying about the volcano and the spike-toes who recently fled
the scene.
As
he followed the beaten path, his oversized boots left large impressions in the
leafy jungle floor. Although he
was not even four feet tall, it would appear to an observer that a six foot man
had just passed through. Without
his stunner, the baldheaded little alien in the cumbersome life support system
might have seemed rather pathetic against the dark jungle setting. His large, feline eyes in his
sweat-drenched head were at half-mast now. The slit that acted as his mouth was opening and closing
constantly as he gasped for air.
Heading north on the same road Rifkin had taken were
members of Rescue Team Two—Remgen, Rezwit, Shizwit, and Vimml—unaware that
Rifkin was less than a mile away.
Hopefully, for Rifkin’s sake, Remgen would drive past his exit point in time
to save him from another volcanic eruption or an attack from spike-toes lurking
in the trees. Time, as always, was
Rifkin’s greatest foe. The present
eruption had shaken everyone badly but no one had been injured during the
quake. Though many of them were
mentally traumatized by the experience, no one was in any immediate danger this
hour… no one, that is, except Rifkin.
Because of his deteriorating physical condition and the latest threats
to his well-being, Rifkin was more vulnerable now to Irignum’s dangers than at
any other time on this world.
When
he reached the edge of the forest after following the path created by the
tracks of the crawler, he halted just in time to avoid falling into an enormous
chasm caused by the churning earth.
The quake had cracked the ground open in front of him in a north-west
and not an east-west axis, which left the main path intact. As it was, he would have to walk a long
ways to go around the fissure and reach the path, perhaps too far and through
too much jungle for his exhausted body to achieve. He was too worn out and physically drained by his long hours
of struggle and lack of food to even weep. Slumping forlornly against a tree, he dropped his stick onto
the ground, heaved a broken sigh, and stared vacantly into space.
******
During
the eruption, there had been pandemonium in the forest and great anxiety on the
bridge. For a short while, all
three crawlers were stopped virtually in their tracks. After collecting his shattered
thoughts, however, Commander Falon was back in control. Doctor Arkru sat quietly next to him as
roll was called from the bridge.
“Rescue
Teams One, Two, and Three,” the commander shouted excitedly. “Is everyone all
right? Imwep, Remgen, and Zorig, please report in!”
The
first and second mates responded immediately to Falon’s call. The remainder of the rescuers, who
answered more slowly, appeared to be in various stages of shock.
“Don’t
you worry sir,” Imwep rasped, as Zither slumped over the steering wheel and
Ibris sat traumatized inside his suit, “Rescue Team One’s doing just fine. We’re sitting in Zone Two’s clearing,
hoping that our young explorer arrives.”
“Everyone’s
holding up pretty well here too, sir,” Remgen followed hoarsely, looking around
at his group. “I’m proud of these children, commander! They’re
our best team!”
Commander
Falon acknowledged the two officers’ promptness and diligence. He insisted that their teammates speak
for themselves. Zither, Ibris, and
Kogin were prodded by Imwep into speaking up. Remgen managed to get his shell-shocked group (Rezwit,
Shizwit, and Vimml) to respond too.
Alafa and Varik needed little prodding by Dazl, but Zorig, who had gone
through much today, sat muttering incoherently to himself.
“Zorig,
team leader three,” Falon called impatiently, “why haven’t you reported in? Are you all right?”
“Am
I all right?” Zorig came suddenly alive. “We’re in the midst of a major
eruption and earthquake. We’re
surrounded by carnivorous monsters.
You ask if I’m all right?”
“If that isn’t the mother and father of understatements, commander!” he cried
in disbelief. “No, I’m not all right, sir. None of us out here in the Outer Reaches will be all right until you let us return!”
“He’s
just worn out,” the professor read Falon’s expression. “Like yourself
commander, he needs several hours sleep.”
The
commander’s haggard face broke into a smile. Zorig’s familiar brand of sarcasm caused laughter on the
bridge now that all of the rescuers had been accounted for and would soon,
Falon prayed, be out of harm’s way.
Doctor Arkru was worried about his chief technician’s mental state, but
Commander Falon was mostly irritated now and wanted to put this whole ‘Rifkin
madness,’ as Kogin had called it, behind them once and for all.
“I
understand how you feel Zorig,” the professor said calmly, heaving a sigh,
“you’ve been through too much lately.
I should never have let you go out again.”
“That goes for you too, Remgen and Imwep,” the
commander cut in brusquely. “Just
sit with your teammates and watch out for Rifkin until we call you in.”
“Yes, but stay alert shipmates,” Arkru continued,
unruffled. “We must give poor
Rifkin one more opportunity to show up.
If you all return now, the search will be over. This
is Rifkin’s last chance!”
“Yes,
yes,” Zorig uttered wearily, “… we’ve got to give poor Rifkin a chance. How many is that now professor?
Ten, twenty, a hundred chances?
How many chances does Rifkin get?”
“Rescue
teams One, Two, and Three,” Commander Falon’s voice was now ragged, and he
paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “… I don’t know how much longer this
rescue operation is going to last, but Doctor Arkru convinced me that we must
try. It’s our hope that our teams
will find Rifkin soon. I don’t
like endangering all of you for the sake of one shipmate. I know we’re running out of time. Soon we’ll be running out of daylight
too. Stand fast crew members and
students: it won’t be long!”
“Izmir,
the great and all powerful, go with you!” Eglin uttered prayerfully, raising
his palms.
******
Now
that the transmitter was turned off on the bridge, an argument broke out
finally between the professor and the senior officers for and against canceling
the rescue attempt to save Rifkin’s life.
The commander rose up inexplicably during the disagreement and left the
room. The question posed by
Communications Officer Abwur summed up the officers’ sentiments: “What’s good
about saving one life if we continue to lose crew members each hour?” Doctor Arkru couldn’t face the fact
that Rifkin was lost, but even his most stubborn resistance was no match for
the overwhelming vote against the rescue now. As he argued with Orix, Eglin, and Abwur, he realized that
when Falon returned to the bridge, the commander would begin calling in the
teams.
In
Zone Two, during the professor’s efforts, Imwep, Kogin, Zither, and Ibris sat
in their crawler near the river hoping, as everyone else, that Rifkin would
suddenly show up or that news that he had been found by one of the other teams
would soon be heard. It didn’t
matter to Zither and Ibris which team found him at this point, just so they
could return safely to the ship.
Imwep and Kogin, tough old veterans that they were, were ashamed they
could do nothing more than sit in the crawler waiting for Rifkin to appear. Not knowing where the student might be,
their best hope, like the other rescue teams, was to remain on the main paths,
hoping he would show up on his own.
In spite of the apparent uselessness of Rescue Team One’s vigil, no one
complained. After what had
happened to Rescue Team Four this morning and the failed effort of Imwep’s team
to save them, no one wanted to leave the crawler. The volcanic eruption had given them all an additional
reason not to disembark from their vehicle nor attempt to travel the side
trails . In Imwep’s words, as they
sat contemplating their fate, “the volcano is just warming up!” Both the second
mate and Third Mate Kogin were certain that a much greater eruption would soon
occur.
Since
none of them could exit the crawler, their silent vigil amounted to nothing
more than a futile demonstration of loyalty to a lost shipmate. The two adults in the vehicle cursed
silently amongst themselves, while Ibris wept quietly in the back seat for
Tobit, his dead friend. Zither,
who was in the very throes of hysteria, himself, gripped the steering wheel
fiercely with one hand, while the other hand was poised at the ignition and a
boot was ready to stomp the accelerator when the order came from the bridge to
return.
******
For
several moments, the volcano remained inexplicably quiet, though the sky
continued to darken with smoke and ash.
Rifkin, who was trying to muster up enough energy to pick up his club,
was certain, as Imwep and the others, that it was just a matter of time. An occasional tremor in the ground and
sporadic rumbling from the mouth of the volcano were proof of this. The worst
eruptions were yet to come.
The
volcanic eruption and earthquake had, in fact, shattered Zorig’s fragile
nerves. Rescue Team Four’s leader
had tried to act bravely after making such a poor showing for himself this
morning, but he had failed.
Without being told to do so, Dazl, who had spent most of his life in the
engine room of the ship, had effectively taken charge of the team. Zorig was even more miserable than he
was before, because Alafa, Dazl, and Varik wouldn’t even talk to him as they
sat in the crawler waiting to glimpse Rifkin emerging from the trees. Alafa thought he was a coward, while
Varik saw him as a fool. Dazl
merely considered Zorig a misfit, whose brain had been softened by too much
learning and not enough practical knowledge in the field. The only one who had truly respected
him had been Tobit, and he was dead.
He knew that his sister loved him and the professor counted him as his
friend, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who would mourn his passing if he
left for the Outer Reaches this hour.
As they sat in the security of their crawler, everyone except Varik was
resigned to waiting it out. The
assistant medic felt cheated that he had lost his chance to redeem himself and
save face.
“What
have we accomplished?” he complained to Dazl, the acknowledged leader of Rescue
Team Three. “We might as well have stayed on the ship.”
“You
heard the commander. We’re ordered
to stand fast,” the chief engineer explained lamely, with a shrug. “We did our
best, Varik. What else can we do?”
“We’re
cowards,” Alafa tried to sound convincing, but sounded petulant instead. “We
should’ve gotten out and looked for him.
You wouldn’t have stopped Rifkin from looking for us!”
“You
think, with these puny stunners, we should get out of the crawler?” Dazl shook
his head in disbelief. “Are you insane or just plain stupid? How long do you think we would last
against these beasts?”
Alafa
couldn’t answer Dazl’s question.
Everyone fell silent, knowing in their hearts that Dazl was right. Zorig felt guilty about it, while Alafa
didn’t know what to feel. Varik
continued to feel cheated of his moment of glory, but the wise old engineer
just felt relieved.
“I’m
sorry for Rifkin,” Zorig summed up his disgust, “but he brought this on
himself!”
“You
never liked him,” Alafa sneered. “At least Rifkin was brave.”
“Rifkin
was a fool,” Dazl murmured almost to himself, as a faint tremor shook the
ground. “All this is being done for one incorrigible student… who might already be dead.”
The
only vehicle even in motion at this point belonged to Remgen’s team. Instead of sitting and fretting about
the volcano or the jungle around them, Rescue Team Two continued to move north,
a painstaking process due to the crawler’s slow speed and the need to drive
over and around the debris caused by the quake. From a bird’s eye view, all looked well below. Even with all the debris on their path
it appeared that they would reach the imperiled Rifkin in time. In theory all they had to do was toss
him a line across the fissure and pull him to safety, at least this is what
Remgen told Rezwit, as he looked ahead at the abyss.
At the very moment that Rifkin could see the
oncoming crawler and hear the distant cries of greeting from Rescue Team Two,
the spike-toes returned suddenly to the scene. He was surrounded this time, with only a silly stick to
swing at his attackers. Attempting
to bite Rifkin from each side, the predators inched in closer and closer as he
wildly swung his club. He was
certain that the dark sleep was near.
The spike-toes were nearer to him now than they had ever been before. Prancing around him and leaping high
into the air as if to demonstrate their élan, they seemed to be playing with
him, as the spike-toes attempted to play with the three-horn today.
“Izmir
is good, Izmir is great,” intoned Rifkin wearily. “Blessed be the name of God,
who forgives sins freely and welcomes penitents to the celestial sleep.”
Just
when it seemed that young Rifkin was doomed to suffer Tobit and Hobi’s fates,
the ground shook even more violently than it had before. This time great cracks appeared
everywhere on the jungle floor.
Izmir had apparently answered his prayers again, but Rifkin was not sure
if he wasn’t showing his anger for all the mischief he had done. This time the shaking continued for a
few moments. There were several
loud explosions from the volcano’s mouth.
As
Remgen and Rescue Team Two came within a hundred feet of the scene, the
monstrous chasm formed in the quaking earth widened even further. Several of the spike-toes, who had come
too close to the edge, fell squealing to their deaths. Skittering immediately from the scene,
the remaining pack left Rifkin standing there, looking across the fissure at
the first mate and his friends Rezwit and Vimml. Shizwit stood next to Remgen, a stunner clutched in her tiny
hand, after the first mate managed to back the crawler up to the abyss. Although he was spared the greater
horror of being eaten alive by spike-toes, he now saw his position as utterly
hopeless. There seemed to be no
way of crossing this gulf. How
long could he expect his shipmates to wait before the ark and its crew were
destroyed?
“Go,”
he cried out to Remgen, “leave this planet before it’s too late. You can’t save me now. I deserve what I get!”
Though
Remgen and his friends wouldn’t have been able to hear him above the rumbling
volcano and shaking earth anyhow, Rifkin remembered that his radio was
dead. The first mate had brought,
among other things, an emergency lifeline that was used to navigate hills and
cliffs when collecting specimens on rocky worlds. It had an anchor-like device on one end to moor itself onto
a rock or bush when set in place and then pulled from the other side. It was not intended for a life or death
throw across a volcanic fissure that would hold fast enough to allow someone to
cross. Both gravity and unstable
ground made the task seem much more improbable to achieve. Nevertheless, Remgen, who was much
larger and stronger than the others, tossed the line. When Rifkin saw it coming, he dropped his stick and hastened
toward it, being careful to avoid being knocked senseless by the metal anchor
coming his way.
“This
is not going to work!” he shouted, yet he wasted no time in trying to find a
place to fasten it to when it arrived.
A
small outcrop of volcanic rock near the edge of the path appeared to be perfect
for anchoring the line. He yanked
on it several times to make sure, then turned to wave at the others, who stood
anxiously waiting for him to cross.
“How’m
I suppose to do this? This is
impossible,” he groaned, looking down into the darkness below.
The
black abyss seemed to stretch down to the fiery heart of this world. In spite of the apprehension he felt,
Rifkin knew that it was now or never.
He had but one more chance to live.
“Come
on boy,” Remgen called from his side, “you can do it! You’ve got the spirit.
Don’t hesitate lad. That
volcano’s just warming up!”
“Come
on Rifkin, grab the line!” Vimml shouted, as he checked the winch in back of
the crawler.
“Yes,
Rifkin,” cried Rezwit, looking across anxiously at his old friend. “Take hold
of it and cross. It’s easy. Just move hand-over-hand instead of
step-by-step, until we can reach out and grab hold of you.”
As
Rescue Team Two waited for Rifkin to respond, the commander began calling in
the other two teams. There was
great relief in his voice after hearing the good news. Because it was an open line, everyone
knew that Rifkin had been found, and yet the bridge was restrained. There were no cheers this time for the
prodigal explorer. Afraid, during
this early stage of rescue to rejoice, himself, Arkru sat there anxiously with
the others as the commander explained to Rescue Teams One and Three that they
were no longer needed in the forest.
Before the volcano erupted again, they were to hurry back to the
ship. With hoarse and careworn
“thank you’s,” the crew members and students complied.
As
Rescue Team Three was rushing back to the ship, however, the volcano began its
eruption in earnest. They found
themselves once again rocked to and fro by the shaking earth and threatened
from all sides by frightened creatures flittering this way and that through the
trees. Unbeknownst to anyone yet,
a large stream of magma had flowed into the river, causing the water to boil up
and slosh over its banks.
Eventually the accumulating magma caused rivulets of the steaming water
to spill over the jungle floor. A
mudflow was created at just those points where magma had entered and displaced
water. The ill-fated Rescue Team
Three was moving parallel to the river when the mudflow began to overtake their
road.
“Look,”
Alafa shrieked, “it’s coming our way!”
“There’s
nothing we can do,” Varik looked at death bravely as Chief Engineer Dazl began
uttering a prayer: “Izmir is good, Izmir is great, blessed be the name of God…”
At
just that moment, the mudflow caught the crawler and began to carry it into a
clearing directly ahead. Varik,
who, for some inexplicable reason, had not been wearing his seat belt, was
dislodged from the vehicle and carried suddenly away, while Zorig looked on in
horror, and the others remained fastened in their seats. The vehicle began to slow down as the
mudflow gradually halted before a wall of trees.
“What’s
going on out there?” The commander was shouting frantically. “Rescue Team Two,
has Rifkin began crossing the fissure?
Rescue Team One and Three, are you heading back to the ship?”
“We’re
in route,” Imwep responded first, “shaken, but unhurt.”
“We’re
trying to talk Rifkin into crossing,” Remgen was the next to reply. “I think
he’s going to do it. He’d better
hurry it up, before we get another shake.”
There
was conspicuous silence from Rescue Team Three. Alafa had managed to climb onto a low hanging limb, but
Zorig and Dazl were trapped on the mired vehicle. The fact that Varik had become a casualty of the mudflow
fell heavily upon the survivors.
Hardest hit was Zorig, who had seen him torn from the crawler but had
frozen so characteristically in his seat.
“Come
on Rifkin,” they heard the professor coax, “don’t make all our efforts a
waste. Cross the fissure. If you can do all those other wondrous
things you’ve done in the past, you can do this!”
Rifkin,
of course, had no functioning radio and couldn’t hear Doctor Arkru’s
encouragement, but the professor was beside himself with excitement. When the bridge awakened to a brand new
disaster in Zone One, their joy evaporated in stunned silence as they listened
to Rescue Team Three’s call for help.
“Help!…
Someone help us!” Dazl shouted into his transmitter. “A mud flow overtook
us. We’re stranded in the jungle!”
“We’re
close to the ship,” Alafa observed calmly. “I remember these surroundings…. If
we can climb out of this mud puddle, we can skirt around it and get back onto
the path.”
“Yes,”
Dazl cried enthusiastically, reaching up to grab a limb, “we’ll get on the path
and someone can pick us up.”
“We
don’t want to sink into this muck,” Zorig muttered, looking fearfully at the
mud puddle below. “We need assistance!
We need assistance now!”
“Rescue
Team One, did you hear that?” The commander’s voice broke suddenly in.
Swept
with déjà vu, Zither’s mind reeled with fear. Ibris was praying feverishly. His eyes shut tightly in a childish effort to make it all go
away.
“Yes
sir,” Imwep heaved a ragged sigh. “You want us to go fetch those morons?” Under
his breath he mumbled to Kogin and the others “You know what this means lads?”
“Oh
no,” Zither and Ibris groaned simultaneously, “not again!”
And
then the terrible reality settled over the professor, the commander, and
everyone else listening to the conversations between the team members and the
bridge.
“Where’s
Varik? I haven’t heard Varik!”
Eglin uttered in a strained voice.
“Varik’s
gone,” Alafa spoke calmly again, obviously in shock.
“What
do you mean Varik’s gone?” The chief medic screamed into the transmitter now.
“Where’s my assistant? By all the
spirits in the cosmos, are you telling me that Varik too is dead?”
“Begging
your pardon sir,” Dazl sighed brokenly, “Varik is dead!”
Go to Next Chapter -- Return to Contents/Writer’s Den