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Chapter Fourteen
As Rifkin slumped down by the ledge of the fissure with
his boots dawdling over the side, he felt overwhelming remorse for what he had
caused. Because his radio was not
working, he had not heard about Varik’s death. He didn’t even know that Tobit and Hobi had also died. As a dreadful silence filled his radio,
he slipped down gingerly after gripping the line and began the hand-over-hand
motion across the gulf. It would
be the most physically exerting thing he had ever done in his short life and
the most important. As he clenched
the line and changed hands repeatedly, he felt his energy waning. The eager faces of Remgen and his
friends seemed a million light years away.
“That’s
it,” he could hear Vimml cry, “you can make it Rifkin. Just a little further. Come on Rifkin, you can do it! You really can!”
Not
knowing what else to add, Shizwit echoed Vimml sentiments and prayed softly to
herself.
“Get
another line,” Remgen ordered the students, as Rifkin reached the mid-point of
his journey.
“Yes-yes,
we can anchor it on the winch too,” Rezwit replied eagerly. “If Rifkin gets too
tired we can pull him up ourselves.”
The
second line was anchored to the winch and a lasso was constructed by
Remgen. Delirious from fatigue,
hunger, and thirst, Rifkin saw what they were doing. He had to get close enough for them to lasso his lower
half. At that point, he could let
go of this terrible line that was tearing his little arms out of their sockets
and let Rescue Team Two do the work.
Midway
in the chasm, there was another tremor, not as great as the ones before but
severe enough to shake the line and almost send him to his death into the
darkness below.
“Oh,
please, I can’t do this much more,” he whimpered, as he tried to edge close
enough for Remgen to lasso his frame.
Suddenly,
the rock that had held the anchor was uprooted as the earth shook. It looked very much to everyone,
including the hapless Rifkin, that it was the end. The line broke loose.
Rifkin found himself banging against the wall of the fissure on the
other side of the abyss.
Now
that he not only had to navigate the line but also had to climb up vertically
instead of merely crossing, it seemed to be a hopeless task. He would have to rise several feet
before a second line could be fastened onto his body.
“Oh
Rifkin,” Shizwit cried this time, “you can do it. You must do
it! Just a few more feet that’s
it…. Hand-over-hand…. Get the line on him Remgen. Hurry!”
Remgen
tried desperately to lasso Rifkin’s dangling body, tossing the lasso again and
again and pulling up quickly in hopes of snatching his lower half. Rezwit was frantic. Vimml and Shizwit began weeping as the
line again and again missed its mark and dangled uselessly in space. Finally,
as he saw the hoop moving up past him, Rifkin let go with one hand and stuck
his arm in the hoop.
“Quick!
Give me a hand children. Let’s
pull him up!” Remgen ordered, out of breath and on the verge of collapse
himself. “He’s got an arm through.
It’ll be our only chance!
That’s it Rifkin, let go of your other hand. We got you lad!”
Rifkin
felt a sharp pain as the hoop tightened around his arm. He tried to hold on with his other
hand, but found himself losing consciousness as his body banged repeatedly
against the rock. For an unknown
period of time, lost forever in Rifkin’s memory, he hovered between life and
death in that dark twilight world where the voyager knows not what bridge he’ll
cross. Remgen and his team pulled him up, hastily untangled him from the line,
placed him in the crawler, and headed back to the ship. There was no time now to even make
certain that Rifkin was dead or alive.
As
Rescue Team Two headed back with their precious cargo, the survivors of Rescue
Team Three had managed to climb off the crawler and wade knee deep through the
mud to the edge of the trees. It
had been Alafa, who, poking a long stick, had shown them that the mud flow
wasn’t that deep. Somewhere in the
mud poor Varik was entombed—the first step toward fossilization, along with
countless small animals that had been caught in the flow. During another brief lull, which
allowed Rescue Team Two to move more safely toward the ship and Rescue Team One
to search Zone One until the muddied figures of Zorig, Dazl, and Alafa emerged
onto the path, the professor ordered the anguished Urlum and guilt-stricken
Illiakim off the bridge. The
commander likewise ordered all unnecessary personnel to leave. Orix was discussing the damage the ship
could suffer from pyroclastic bombardment and magma, and the disconsolate Eglin
was being comforted by Abwur, when the welcomed news that Remgen’s Team had
rescued Rifkin was blared over the bridge.
In
spite of his grief, Eglin followed Orix down to the hold to prepare the
decontamination chamber for Rescue Team Two. The commander and the professor held fast on the bridge more
concerned with Rescue Teams One and Three making their way back from Zone One.
“Rescue
Teams One and Three sound off!” The commander barked.
“Imwep,
sir… Kogin, sir… Zither, sir… Ibris, sir… Zorig, sir… Dazl, sir… Alafa, sir,”
the roll call droned. Everyone, including
the distraught Urlum, rejoiced at Rifkin’s rescue and the news that that Zorig,
Dazl, and Alafa had survived.
“I
imagine it’s a tight squeeze,” the professor tried to sound glib.
“It’s
damn near impossible professor,” Dazl grumbled. “I don’t fancy sitting on
Kogin’s lap!”
“It’s
only a short stretch from there,” Arkru gave them encouragement. “Hold fast and
don’t think about what’s behind or around you, only what’s in front… Life!”
Due
to the added weight of the vehicle and debris strewn on the ground, the crawler
ambled even more slowly back to the ship.
As fate would have it, when all that remained of their ordeal was a mile
of jungle path, the overcrowded vehicle ran straight into a pack of spike-toes
coming the opposite way.
Zither,
who was driving the crawler, was the only one unencumbered with someone on his
lap. With no time for
equivocation, he jumped up on the hood and fired wildly at the pack. Alafa, who had been sitting on Ibris’
lap, turned fearfully to the technician as a pair of gargoyle heads popped up
over the side. Fortunately for
Alafa, the spike-toes began snapping and gnawing at the air canisters on the
back of her suit instead of her front.
Their salivating jaws could do no more than scratch the canisters and
partially tear one of the straps. At the same time, Zither was unable to fire
upon the creatures without hitting Alafa, who, if he didn’t move quickly, might
be pulled bodily from her seat. He
knew that she could suffer Tobit’s fate if the predators drug her into the
trees. At the very least, she
might be injured like Hobi and die slowly inside her suit.
With
a sense of déjà vu again, Zither stepped boldly over the front seat,
brandishing a large flashlight discovered on the floorboard below. Praying for strength, he frantically
beat on the spike-toes to prevent them from damaging Alafa’s suit. The two predators lost their footing
and fell spitting and clawing to the ground, but the vehicle remained
surrounded by spike-toes waiting for their chance. By now, most of the rescuers were stationed at various
points on the crawler firing continuously at the pack. Dazl, who had been sitting on Kogin’s
lap, was soon standing beside him in the vehicle’s hold, blasting at predators
climbing up the back. Zither and
Alafa stood on the back seat cushions firing at spike-toes climbing up the
vehicle’s sides. Zorig, who had
been on Imwep’s lap, was rudely awakened when he was dumped onto the floor. With his weapon drawn, he climbed
without hesitation onto the hood to give Imwep support. Since the first spike-toe attack, Ibris
had been in a state of shock and sat traumatized in his seat, but, after seeing
his leader’s response, he stood up on his seat cushion and fired his weapon
too.
The
good news, which would have made the professor proud, was that the students and
crew members were making this “last stand” together as a team. There were no barriers or hostilities
between them now. It almost seemed
as if they had a chance against the pack.
The bad news was that the pack was relentless and seemed to be
increasing in numbers by the moment.
The beleaguered group was having the same problem with these thick-hided
brutes that Zorig’s team had in Zone Two.
Unless they scored direct hits at close range upon the spike-toes, all
their stunners could accomplish were momentary knockout blows upon their
foes. When they were far enough
away, the predators’ nervous systems were virtually immune to stunner blasts.
During
this hour, the bridge, still stunned by the most recent disaster, was gradually
alerted to the new disaster in Zone One.
To make matters worse, tremors, foreshadowing another eruption, shook
the jungle. As Rescue Team Two moved
cautiously over Zone Two’s badly fissured path, the bridge held its collective
breath. Though the path had seemed
clear for Remgen’s team, the going was slow, and the dangers of falling trees
and sudden cracks opening up to swallow the crawler still great. Rifkin, the object of the rescue,
hovered between life and death.
The tragic accident occurring in Zone One made his deliverance more
important than ever. If he died
now, it would be all for nothing: the deaths of three shipmates and the loss of
three crawlers with force field traps in their holds.
Now
the sounds of mayhem from Zone One returned to the airwaves, filtering as
background static into the conversation on the bridge. Craning his neck toward the radio,
Falon held up a hand, motioning for silence in the room.
“Listen,”
he said in disbelief, “Rescue Teams One and Three are in trouble…. Can you hear
it? That’s the sound of stunners!”
“Yes,
I hear it,” Abwur leaned forward excitedly. “It’s a crackling noise…. They’re under attack!”
“Oh
please, Arkru groaned, shaking his head, “not again!”
Falon,
who had been talking from the intercom about Rifkin’s health, responded
belatedly, “Rescue Teams One and Three report in!”
As
Eglin waited grimly for Rescue Team Two to arrive, Orix returned quickly to his
post. While the bridge reeled in
shock, Falon turned the receiver up full blast in order to isolate the
transmission in Zone One. In the
silence, broken only by an occasional gasp or sigh from the bridge, they could
hear, in addition to the crackle of stunners, the grunts, groans, and intake of
breath of marksmen muted in terror, and finally one loud, heart rendering
lamentation from Zorig: “This is all Rifkin’s fault! We’re going to be torn to bits for the sake of that
incorrigible fool!”
“Rescue
Teams One and Three!” the commander shouted. “Imwep, Kogin, and Dazl report
in! What is going on out there?”
“We’re
under attack,” answered Imwep finally
“Help,
save us!” Ibris screamed.
At
that very moment, Ibris was saved from certain death as a spike-toe, coming
within inches of his arm, was shot point-blank by Zither and fell lifeless onto
the ground. Crumpling into a fetal
position on his seat, Ibris murmured his appreciation to Zither “Oh thank you,
thank you, thank you!” All the
bridge could hear at this point, however, was an increase in stunner fire,
which corresponded to an increase number of spike-toes attempting to rush the
group.
“Rescue
Teams One and Three are you all right?” Falon asked in a strained voice.
Remembering
the commander’s earlier understatement, Zorig laughed hysterically to himself
when there was no response. “Are we all right, he asks…. After all that concern
about Rifkin on the bridge, he finally tunes in…. We’re surrounded by monsters,
commander— hundreds of them. We
have no apparent avenue of escape.
All to save one worthless, malcontent, who’s probably dead!”
“No,…
that’s not true,” Remgen’s reported hoarsely from Zone Two, “I see signs of
life …. I think Rifkin’s alive.”
“Signs
of life?” Arkru heaved a sigh. “That’s good to hear, Remgen!”
“Yes,”
Eglin replied from the ship’s hold, “that’s good news, Remgen, but how can you
be sure? You can’t check his pulse
or listen to his heart.”
“No,”
the first mate said raggedly, “but his helmet’s fogging a bit. That mean’s he’s
breathing. He’s unconscious, but
his lips are moving. I’m certain he’s alive!”
“Hah,”
Zorig responded bitterly to the news, “who cares if that rogue is alive?”
In
spite of Remgen’s good news, there would be no rejoicing on the bridge. Seven shipmates were on the verge of
being slaughtered by spike-toes, with no one this time to come to their
aid. Rescue Team Two’s crawler,
carrying the reason for their sacrifice, was forced to navigate around
countless obstacles—tree trunks, fissures, and panic-stricken beasts moving
back and forth across its path.
After checking in with the bridge, Rifkin’s rescuers were plunged into
silence, holding their collective breaths until they reached the ship. If Rifkin could hold on for a little
while, they wanted to believe, they might make it in time.
For Zither, Zorig, Imwep, Kogin, Dazl, Alafa, and
Ibris, the outcome was far less clear.
In the past several moments the spike-toes had been unable to climb onto
their vehicle. It appeared as if
their stunners were having some success upon them, especially at close
range. Unfortunately, no sooner
had the first batch of attackers been stopped from climbing aboard the crawler
than a second wave was trying to rush the group. The spike-toes were circling and snapping at the vehicle, as
if it was a living thing. As the
crawler was surrounded by more and more of these playful killers, everyone,
even the badly shaken Ibris, remained fixed at their stations, firing
continually at the pack. In spite
of his bitterness toward Rifkin, Zorig remained at his post too, discovering as
he had in Zone Two, how fundamentally restricted their guns were. When a predator was knocked off the
crawler, another would take its place.
Unless it was shot point-blank in the head, it would soon be back on its
feet ready to try again, a pattern that wore heavily on the group.
When
it appeared as if this would go on indefinitely or until one of them had been
dragged off the crawler into the trees, Zither again took matters into his own
hands—or so it seemed. Perhaps, he
later reflected, he had temporarily lost his mind and had deliberately jumped
into the pack,… but it was more likely that he had lost his footing and
accidentally dropped to the ground.
Suddenly, the cautious and conscientious student found himself landing
squarely on his boots, standing up shakily on his legs, and firing point-blank
at a spike-toe racing up to his face.
Whether or not it had been an accident or had been done purposefully, it
was a wonder he had not injured himself during the fall. At such close range, the creature he
fired upon promptly fell unconscious at his feet, but he was now surrounded by
a swarm of predators, dancing and cavorting around the new morsel in their
midst.
At
that point, everyone was shooting at Zither’s attackers. But it was Zither, the “Brave”—his newfound
friend Ibris would call him—who seemed to have deliberately jumped into the
fray. Firing and cursing at the
spike-toes, he was quickly dragged back onto the crawler by Imwep and Kogin
before being shredded over the jungle floor.
A volcanic tremor may have explained the pack’s sudden dispersal. To his teammates, it was just one more
miracle that had protected their group.
Izmir, in his infinite mercy, prevented the spike-toes from dragging
Alafa and Ibris from the crawler.
And he had rescued Zither from the very jaws of death. During this interval, the bridge was
gripped with foreboding as they wondered what was happening in Zone One. Was that not Zither calling Izmir to
smite his tormentors? Did this
mean another shipmate was being killed this hour? Would there be several more
shipmates killed? Perhaps none of
them would survive this time!”
Another
telltale tremor rumbled through the forest, that was barely felt by the
bridge. Taking advantage of the
lull, Dazl jumped into the driver’s seat and stomped the accelerator while the
pack regrouped. They rolled about
ten miles per hour over the scattered limbs and volcanic debris. It was not very fast, but it made them
feel as if they were escaping just to be moving at all. Everyone was still standing expectantly
on their feet, their weapons smoking at their sides. Dazl, who was the ranking crewmember, reported now to the
bridge: “Dazl to Commander Falon.
We’re alive and well and we’re returning to the ship!”
In
what eye-witnesses would claim was his finest moment, but Zither, believed was
the most reckless thing he had ever done, the senior student managed somehow to
grab a force field pole, push the red button and toss it at the advancing pack.
“Hold
your helmets!” he cried. “Everybody down!”
After
hearing his exclamation, the professor knew exactly what was afoot.
“No,
Zither,” his voice broke, “there’s not
enough range!”
But
it was too late. The “Rifkin bomb”
had been thrown high into the air.
Imwep, Kogin, Dazl, Zorig, Alafa, and Ibris began praying aloud as it
fell to earth: “Izmir is good, Izmir is great…” When the pole exploded, it left
a small crater in the path, spraying everyone with plant matter and mud. Because it landed directly in front of
the spike-toes, it knocked down only the first row, and yet it scattered the
remaining dromaeosaurs into the trees.
It worked, Zither thought to himself
light-headedly as he settled back onto Kogin’s lap. The Rifkin Bomb worked! Unless the volcano erupted again, all
they had to do was head back to the ship.
He prayed to Izmir that, when they were all safe and sound aboard the
vessel, the commander would take them into deep space. He never wanted to see Irignum again.
Zither,
a most reluctant hero, had saved the lives of seven shipmates. The remainder of their trip back to the
ship, in which Dazl continued as pilot, found him sitting contentedly on
Kogin’s lap. Though silent this
time, the old veteran was very proud of him for what he had done.
“Rescue
Teams One and Three are returning to ship,” Dazl called to the bridge. Looking back at Zither now, he added
with great respect in his eyes “You did good lad, very good! Now, Izmir-give-us-speed, let’s go home!”
******
The
commander, professor, and senior officers gave the three teams encouragement as
they returned. Rescue Team Two,
they were informed, was still having trouble returning to the ship. Though Zone One had a much greater lava
flow, Zone Two had far more fissure activity, making it more difficult to
traverse. Remgen had to blaze his
own trail in places where the original road was heavily cracked. Unlike Zone One, the pack hunters
appeared to be lying low now. Time
was the only factor against Team Two’s safety. If Remgen could navigate the crawler over the cracked and
debris-filled ground, they could make it, unless the volcano erupted again or a
swarm of predators overtook them on the way.
As
luck would have it for Rescue Teams One and Three, another gang of
spike-toes—probably from the same horde—appeared suddenly on their path. This time Dazl deliberately turned the
crawler in their direction, almost squashing several of them as the vehicle
lurched ahead. Unfortunately this
multitude of killers was three or four times the size of the last. A collective gasp went up from the
bridge as the sound of stunners started up again. It had struck everyone as out of character for the scholarly
and circumspect student to have acted so bravely this hour. As he sat on Kogin’s lap attempting to
fire his stunner, his hand shook violently and his teeth chattered in his
head. He was certain he would
lapse into cowardice again.
Courage didn’t come easily for him. If it had not been for the resurgent volcano, Zither and the
other children sitting on various laps would have been dragged kicking and
screaming off the crawler while the three adults were torn to bits in their
seats.
When
the ground shook beneath their spiked toes, the predators had but one emotion
in their dim-witted brains: panic.
The dromaeosaurs, as all other jungle creatures who were dodging falling
debris and sidestepping cracks in the jungle floor, fled through the trees.
Terror
once more struck the inhabitants of this sector of Northern Arizona and made
many of the Revekians wonder if this planet was coming to an end. At the same time that it seemed Izmir
had chosen to save the teams, it appeared as if he had decided to destroy this
primeval world once and for all.
The air grew thick with smoke and the stench of flowing magma oozing
through the trees. The earth shook
more terribly than ever before. A
monstrous column of smoke from the volcano now blanketed the sky and began
dropping ash onto the forest canopy and jungle floor. For the members of Rescue Teams One and Three, it was a
wondrous sound. It had saved their
lives. No one could be more
surprised at this feeling of jubilation than Zither. He could rest easy on Kogin’s lap as Dazl navigated around
falling pyroclastics and limbs and brought them slowly but surely back to the
ship.
A
recurrent roar, like thunder, rolled across the darkening sky as night
descended early upon the land. The
volcano was erupting repeatedly, issuing a noise that sounded like a titanic
cannon firing again and again. For
Rescue Team Two, less than a mile from the ship, it was simply more bad
news. Cracks were opening up
everywhere on the ground and countless uprooted trees blocked passage on the
jungle floor. In spite of their
close proximity to the ship, the effort required to avoid fissures, potholes,
and debris caused the crawler to move slowly over the ground. At times it stopped altogether as a
tree toppled in front of them or a new fissure opened up directly ahead. To further dampen their spirits, was
the continual rain of ash and pyroclastics, as a massive pillar of black smoke
rose from the northern cone.
As
he watched the sky darken, Remgen listened to arguments from the senior
officers about saving the ship.
Both the professor and the commander wanted to wait as long as possible
before lifting off. The first mate
agreed, as he reached out and hugged his teammates. If need be, they must save the vessel at all costs, but he
would do everything in Izmir’s power to reach the ship.
“Very
well,” the navigator replied gravely, “but lava streams and fissures will soon
threaten the integrity of our vessel’s hull. We must get the ship in the air before it is mired in magma
or damaged by the shaking ground.”
This
grim statement from Orix was followed by an equally grim nod from Falon. The professor sat wide-eyed and pensive
in his seat now that closure of this nightmare was so near.
“We
will be praying for you Rescue Teams One, Two, and Three,” Falon said huskily,
rising up to look out the window. “Izmir give you speed!”
******
When
they were at the edge of the meadow, so close to the ship they could see light
from the bridge shining brightly in the false night, Remgen held his breath as
he gauged the lava stream inching toward the ship. Orix’s fears were justified. The ship was
threatened. Time was running out. Fortunately for the returning team,
there was no magma flowing where they must enter the ship. But countless creatures streamed across
the meadow to avoid the flow of lava through the trees. The field of grass ahead had changed
color, from yellow and light green hues to a swarming silver, brown, and
emerald mantle of living things running, slithering and flying to safer ground.
“What
do we do now?” Rezwit asked, as Remgen brought the crawler to a stop.
“They
won’t be interested in us,” the first mate waved a hand. “They’re running for
their lives!”
“What
if they are interested in us?”
Shizwit asked in a small voice.
“Believe
me, children, it can be done,” Remgen insisted, as the crawler entered the
meadow and began rolling across the field. As he watched an assortment of predators and plant-eaters
cross the meadow, he had almost convinced himself of this. They would make it, he promised
them. Had they not survived
another eruption? Could they not
see the lights of the ship? They
were very close. Everyone was
familiar with the single-mindedness of these beasts. When the predator’s bellies were full or they were
frightened, they ignored everything in their path. The professor had told him this. He had seen it for himself in the forest. He now attempted to convince them of
their safety in spite of what they knew.
But then Remgen saw another familiar sight bolting through the
trees: a great leaper, the largest
he had ever seen, leading a procession of juvenile tyrannosaurs and smaller meat-eaters,
including swarms of spike-toes who passed it on the way. It was the spike-toes who were the
greatest threat and yet they ran ahead of the crawler without looking back.
“I
have this feeling,” he tried to sound convincing, “if we drive carefully toward
our ship and give them plenty of ground, those brutes will leave us alone.”
“Uh
uh,” Vimml shook his helmet emphatically, “we might run into him!”
The
great leaper ran ahead of them that moment, passed three-horns and
club-tails, through scoop-mouths,
sail-backs, and bone-heads, without so much as a second glance.
“Oh that fellow,” Remgen pursed his lips and
squinted his eyes. “He’s too far away lad. By the time we’re halfway across the field, he’ll be long
gone!”
“Oh
yeah,” Rezwit pointed to the other predators following behind, “what about them?
I’ve never seen that many killers in one bunch!”
“We
should wait,” Shizwit agreed with Vimml and Rezwit, as she held Rifkin’s
helmeted head in her lap.
Shielding
his eyes against the sun, Remgen marveled at the shaft of brilliance breaking
through the smoke. The light grew,
moving across the meadow toward the ship as the column of black smoke was blown
by the wind. Remgen believed this
was an omen. He had grown fond of
these children. After what they
had gone through so far, he felt a profound responsibility for each one of
them, including the unconscious Rifkin they rescued today. He knew what they must do. They couldn’t wait for another big
shaker, especially with Rifkin clinging to life.
“If
you care about your friend,” he declared, looking into his clouded helmet, “we
must go now, not later when there’s
another eruption. We’re almost there, children, mere moments from the
ship. Trust in Izmir, if not in
me!”
Without
further argument, Rezwit, Shizwit, and Vimml nodded their heads, ignoring the
monsters in the meadow and the cracked and cluttered ground. So close but so far from the safety of
the ship, the crawler now made its way across the trodden field, encountering
all manner of runners, flyers, and crawling things.
Fortunately
for Rescue Teams One and Three, they were no longer close enough to a water
source to suffer Varik’s fate. Few
of the hardy forest trees were uprooted or broken by the eruption. Except for smaller limbs crunched under
the crawler’s blades, an occasional lava bomb falling from the sky, a
persistent rain of ash and occasional creatures moving onto their path, the
road ahead was at least passable if not free and clear. Such minor obstacles simply made the
journey slow and nerve-racking for a group who had suffered so greatly
today. Countless species of
dinosaurs ran passed and alongside of them, terrified by the sound and shaking
ground, and yet for Rescue Teams One and Three all that remained was the path
ahead.
With so many impediments in the way, Dazl was forced
to drive slowly. Team Two’s
crawler, however, though it moved amidst great streams of dinosaurs crossing
the meadow, could move at a moderate speed. This heartened Remgen’s team for several moments, until they
began bumping against and crunching over creatures on the way. It was a dreadful but awesome sensation
to watch such a horde and have to dodge longs necks and three horns suddenly
appearing in their path. Almost
lovingly, Shizwit held the unconscious Rifkin in her arms. As Rifkin awakened momentarily to look
up into her tearful face, the specter of this mysterious female became forever
imprinted in his mind. Remgen was
uttering the familiar “Izmir is great, Izmir is good” refrain, as Rezwit and
Vimml stared numbly into space, wondering if they and their friend would live
or die. Rifkin’s eyes closed too
soon for anyone to notice. The
overwhelming cacophony of sound around them was hardly noticed by him as he
returned to his dark, dreamless sleep.
There
was no way for Remgen to even know if Rifkin was adequately breathing because
of the damage to the gauges on his suit.
The chief medic Eglin would have to examine him when the suit was
removed—“if,” he muttered to Orix, “I don’t not strangle him first!” His lifeless composure made it appear
to his comrades that he was dead.
Everyone, except the hardened first mate, was crying now. Doctor Arkru, who had followed the
entire episode from the bridge, could not allow himself to believe that Rifkin
was dead. So much had been risked
to save this foolish lad. Now
Varik was dead too. If Rifkin also
died, the professor would have imperiled them all for nothing. In spite of his anger for Rifkin, the
collector already mourned his stricken student. It was the darkest day of his long, long life. He had grievously placed his students
in harm’s way. Three shipmates
were already dead, and one of his most gifted pupils might die too.
As
the crawlers approached the vessel, the commander and professor could see from
a video monitor a stream of lava edging dangerously close to the landing gear
of the ship. The ship’s crew and
the remaining students had been informed of Rifkin’s condition and were waiting
outside the decontamination hatch with mixed emotions. Many of them where angry with Rifkin
for the problems he had caused.
Those closest to him, pitied him or felt angry with him for what he had
done.
The
ramp was lowered and Rescue Team Two’s vehicle, with the unconscious Rifkin,
arrived first into the decontamination portion of the hold. As Remgen motioned to his teammates to
begin unsuiting, Eglin and his assistants stood in back of the hatch waiting
for the chamber to be sanitized so they could begin their work. After removing their life support systems,
Rescue Team Two hastily took off Rifkin’s badly damaged suit. When Eglin entered the decontaminated
chamber, he immediately checked Rifkin’s vital signs with his equipment. With a frown creasing his brow, he
signaled grimly that Rifkin was at least alive. Gennep and Jitso then placed him on the gurney and carried
him out of the room. While the
medical team rushed him to the infirmary, his teammates were too hungry and
exhausted to give him a second thought.
Remgen, Rezwit, Shizwit, and Vimml left almost deliriously for their
quarters, hoping that food and drink would soon be prepared. Doctor Arkru, hand-in-hand with Urlum,
and several concerned students and crew members held vigil behind the hatch in
expectation that Rescue Teams One and Three would finally arrive.
When
the ramp lowered again and Dazl drove the crawler up into the chamber, it was
as a hero that Zither entered with his teammates this time. From the hatch window and
decontamination monitor, his shipmates could see him on Kogin’s lap and their
laughter and cheers were audible over the speaker in the room. Everyone appeared to know about his
brave deeds, except himself. “We were being attacked by the beast,” he had
muttered to Kogin, “what else could I have done? Let’s just be glad we’re alive!”
While they unsuited, all he wanted to think about
was a warm shower, dinner, and many hours of dreamless sleep. But he knew that his life would never
be the same now, and Kogin knew this too.
A great and mindless joy had filled him. Like it or not, he had savored raw, unintellectual, and
unwanted glory. So instead of
going straight to his quarters, he paid the comatose Rifkin a visit in the
infirmary to look down at his old enemy and gloat a spell before taking care of
his private needs.
“Well,
my old adversary,” he murmured to the sleeping student, “this time you’ve
outdid yourself. All I ever wanted
was a scientist’s life. Now,
because of your antics, I have a reputation that I can’t possibly live up
to. Thank you very much Rifkin. Thanks for nothing my old friend!”
Zither
wanted to pick up one of the jars of medicine in Eglin’s infirmary and smash it
over Rifkin’s head. But it was not
for what happened today; it was for what had and had not been happening ever
since the voyage began. There had
been a constant and unwanted rivalry between them. Insults had been made to his face. Jokes had been played behind his back. Not once had this obnoxious young
student ever treated him decently or given him the chance to be his friend. Just at this moment of unexpected anger,
after he carelessly uttered his thoughts aloud, Rifkin opened his feverish eyes
to look up at Zither. A faint
smile trembled on his infantile, simian face.
“Well,
well, that was a pretty speech,” he murmured, his eye-lids remaining at
half-mast.
“You
were awake all that time?” Zither’s mouth dropped in disbelief. “That’s just
like you Rifkin…. It’s true, all of it.
I don’t want glory. That’s
what you wanted. And it’s what
caused the deaths of three of our shipmates!”
“I
know that now Zither,” Rifkin nodded faintly. “Through my deliriums, I heard
the news from Eglin. I think he
wanted to kill me…. Is that what you want to do now Zither?”
It
was at that point Zither realized that the typically smug expression on
Rifkin’s face was actually a sad, careworn smile. The enormity of his guilt must be overwhelming. He felt pity for the broken hero now. He still wanted to smash Rifkin’s head,
and yet once more he realized it was not because of what Rifkin had done, but
what he could have done…. He could have been his ally instead of his enemy…. He
could even have been his friend.
“No,”
he said after a long pause. “… I’m sorry this happened to you Rifkin. But you brought this upon yourself.”
“That’s
what everyone is saying,” Rifkin’s voice came out thinly now. “I wish I was
dead. My parents could not deal
with me either; that’s why I’m here.”
“At
least you had parents,” Zither said thoughtfully. “I was not sent here, like
you. I requested it at the
academy. From what I’ve gathered
Rifkin you were incorrigible on the home planet too. You’ve always been a reckless glory-seeker out to impress
your peers. Instead of wishing you
were dead, have you given any thought to changing your ways during your
convalescence on the ship? You
could become a great scientist and collector Rifkin, if you could just stop
showing off!”
Rifkin
reached up and gave him a weak handshake.
Without words, he conveyed his apology to Zither by a faint nod of his
head, his eyes filling suddenly with tears.
That
moment Eglin and his new assistant Gennep entered with a tray of medicine.
Though they said nothing to Rifkin, it was plain they hated him for the deaths
of their friends. Zither’s pity
for Rifkin grew in the silence.
Both students had matured greatly in the past few days. Rifkin had learned humility. Zither had found courage in
himself. Rifkin’s spirit appeared
to have been broken, while Zither’s spirit, as a result of his experience, now
soared. Zither hoped that the old
Rifkin—that happy-go-lucky adventurer—was not totally shattered by his ordeal,
but he looked so small and helpless in the large infirmary bed. He lie there looking forlornly up at
the doctor reading his vital signs, crying softly to himself, wishing he had
never been born.
The
sudden and inexplicable heroism thrust upon Zither seemed almost dream-like as
he recalled the episode in the forest today. Even more incredible to him, was how one episode could
reverse the statuses of Rifkin and himself. Rifkin’s short life had been filled with brave deeds, while
he had shown such bravery for only one hour. Nevertheless, the younger student, who had caused so much
suffering during the mission, had become, understandably, a pariah on the ship.
So
why did he feel sorry for Rifkin?
He had no one to blame but himself! What did it matter if Rifkin built his reputation in
courageous exploits when had caused so much tragedy during the past few
days? Had he not given Zither much
personal grief? When a tear began
rolling down his own cheek, Zither brushed it away irritably and made a hasty
exit from the room.
Suddenly,
he felt very foolish. On the way
down the corridor leading to the elevator, he first ran into Urlum, who had
been hovering outside, hoping to see her lover again. Urlum, who was accompanied by Illiakim, said nothing to him
as she entered the room. Illiakim
gave him a strange, guarded smile.
He loathed Urlum for her mindless devotion to Rifkin. Then, as if it wasn’t bad enough to see
two female students rushing to Rifkin’s bedside, he passed Shizwit, the “Key
Master,” in the hall—another Rifkin devotee. As he continued on this way, he felt irritation at himself
for not properly dressing down the incapacitated Rifkin. He had squandered a perfect opportunity. What he did instead was so typical of
him. He made peace!… Peace
to someone who had not given him a moment’s peace for months… Peace to someone
whose popularity soars even now, at least with the opposite sex, no matter what
he has done or what disasters he has caused…. Peace to a rogue and
exhibitionist, who had made his life miserable at each turn…. Peace to someone
who had caused the deaths of three shipmates and done great damage to their
mission on this world!
As
Zither reached the student quarters, receiving respectful glances, hellos, and
even an element of awe from fellow students and members of the ship’s crew, he
found himself walking straight toward the female counterpart to Rifkin in
almost every way: Alafa. She stood
there waiting for him to approach, an enigmatic smile playing on her athletic
face. He didn’t like Alafa. Whenever voices of derision echoed
Rifkin’s example, he could always count on her, and yet here she was blocking
his path.
“Excuse
me,” he said irritably, attempting to pass.
“You
surprised me today,” she said mockingly it seemed.
“I
surprised myself,” he confessed with
a snarl. “I surprised everyone on the
ship. Now I’m tired, dirty, and
hungry, Alafa, so let me pass. I’m
in no mood for your begrudging admiration. I did what was necessary and no more.”
“I
think it was more than that,” her tone changed and her eyes sparkled.
Bending
forward in uncharacteristic feminine fashion to give him a kiss on his mouth,
she then whispered into his ear before she fled, “You are a real hero
Zither. Unlike the fearless and
mad Rifkin, you were afraid out there, and yet you rose up against your nature
and acted for the benefit of your team!”
“You
think I’m a hero?” Zither could only
mumble in amazement as she disappeared down the corridor into her room.
******
As
Rifkin lie in critical condition in the infirmary, three important events
involved the entire ship. The
first event, which was the most important, was done quite unconventionally,
since no one was warned ahead of time to go their stations and prepare for lift
off from this world. The dreadful
pool of lava gathering below the ship had already caused damage to one of the
landing pads and was threatening to engulf the second and third pads when the
navigator was able to get the ship airborne. Everyone braced themselves as quickly as possible, as the
commander’s voice blared over the intercom, “Now here this: all personnel brace
for takeoff!” Moving as light as smoke, the great trilobite-shaped vessel was
rising into the air to avoid more damage from lava flows and pyroclastic
bombardment to its hull. Before
the ship’s company even knew what was happening, it was zooming to a temporary
“volcano free” location and then descending back down to earth. A great flat desert replaced the
featureless green. No one but the
commander, navigator, and professor were worried that they had made the
move. Everyone assumed that it was
done as a temporary expedient: to get the vessel ready for travel and assess
damages to the ship in anticipation of the final lift-off into space.
The
next important event was an announcement from the chief medic. Although only one of the three
shipmates killed on this world had been brought back to the ship, the ship’s
company were informed over the intercom by Doctor Eglin, who also acted as
priest, that a ceremony for the three shipmates would follow dinner
tonight. It was mandatory that
everyone attend. Hobi would not
lie on this dreadful planet, but later, after final lift-off, would have a proper
cremation and his ashes would be sprinkled in space after they left Irignum for
good. This news was followed by
the belated announcement from the commander that the ship had moved to a safe
location on this world. It
appeared to be the bottom of a long since dried up sea. Afterwards, the professor spoke
emotionally over the intercom of the meaning of what had happened and how much
they had learned by these tragedies.
But the only information that interested most of the ship’s company
tonight was the promise of imminent dinner, which it was rumored, was another
fine feast. No mention had been
made by Eglin that Rifkin had survived his ordeal. The good doctor would remain Rifkin’s enemy for the rest of
his life.
After
the rescuers had cleaned up and put on fresh clothes, another sumptuous dinner
was served by Wurbl and Imyor. The
dining hall was in a more festive mood when all were assembled to eat. With the exception of the commander’s
table, barriers had been broken down again as everyone sat with everyone else,
regardless of age, gender, or class.
Zither therefore sat next to Alafa, his new admirer, whether he liked it
or not, alongside of technician Ibris who had also been saved by his heroic
action today. At his table were,
of course his fellow rescuers Imwep and Kogin, who treated him as a colleague
and equal, since, in their minds, he had proven himself in the field. Throughout Zither’s long life, they
would remain his steadfast friends.
At
Zorig’s table sat his sister, who acted as the loving sibling again now that
the technician had no friends. To
offer his support to his long time assistant, the professor had reluctantly
decided to sit at Zorig’s table too, along with young Lumnal, who had no
prejudices to bare. Otherwise
Zorig, like Rifkin, was persona non grata with most of the children and many
members of the crew.
Grummel,
who was now one of the caretakers of Irignum’s enclosures aboard ship,
naturally shared the table with Jitso, his co-worker, who had not volunteered
for the second rescue attempt, and also Illiakim, who, after opting to stay on
ship, herself, sat forlornly next to him, staring into space. Only three chairs
were occupied at this table, the fourth to be used by the cook Imyor when he
was finished with his galley duties and was ready to eat. Dazl, like the solemn Jitso, blamed
Zorig for his friend Hobi’s death.
He naturally sat close to his superior Remgen, already in his cups, and
shared the table with Commander Falon, Doctor Eglin, and the Communications
Officer Abwur, who were in deep discussion on what lie ahead. Rezwit and Vimml, who sat boasting of
their courage today, seemed on the surface to be their old, obnoxious selves,
but the commander had ordered their table placed in the furthest corner of the
room as a sort of punishment for their many antics in the passed few days. At several other tables situated around
the room sat the remaining crew members, who had not taken part in the
adventures this week. For the most
part, except for normal conversations, it was a subdued time. There was much more than food to digest
during the feast. For the first
time in anyone’s recollection Rifkin’s voice and gestures did not grace the
festivities, and even his friends had fallen out of grace with the commander
and his crew.
Shizwit,
the professor noted sadly, seemed to have withdrawn into her shell again and
naturally sat next to Omrik, who had happily missed the entire event, and Yorzl
and Zeppa, who chattered quietly amongst themselves.
Orix,
who was second-in-command on the ship, had volunteered to sit watch while the
others ate and was the only one not attending the dinner tonight. After serving everyone else, Wurbl
would bring the navigator his dinner on the bridge and then join the others for
his own food. The crew,
technicians, and students must eat heartily, the commander said during his
dinner speech. There was still
much work ahead. This cryptic
declaration mystified everyone.
After three deaths, where they not leaving this dreadful world
behind? What did the commander
mean by still much work
ahead? No one dared ask.
As
Wurbl sat the tray down in front of the navigator at the bridge, he was the
first to ask for clarification of the commander’s words.
“You
want to know what Falon meant, eh?” Orix replied, immediately attacking Wurbl’s
famous stew.
“Yes
sir,” Wurbl nodded respectfully, “everyone does.”
“Oh,
our commander loves to be dramatic,” Orix remarked sarcastically. “He’ll wait
until dinner is halfway through to clarify himself.” “…. All right,” he
acknowledged Wurbl’s curiosity, after chewing a mouthful of stew, “if you
insist, my fine chef, you shall be the first to know.”
Looking
up at Wurbl, after washing down his food with half a mug of beer, he watched
the cook squirm awhile, and then, after scooping up more stew, said, while
lazily chewing his food: “Our good professor… talked Falon… into continuing our
mission on this world!”
The
portly Wurbl did a comic double take and almost dropped his tray. “What?” he
sputtered. “I-I thought we were leaving this dreadful place. I was hoping that when we lifted off
we’d keep on going into deep space.”
“Tsk-tsk,
you know we all have to be battened down before we do that,” Orix chided him
gently, surveying the other delicacies on his plate, “… but the fact is we’re
going to do our repairs in this safe zone I picked out, and then its on to greater things!”
Wurbl
fell heavily into the nearest seat and poured himself a mug beer. The navigator laughed as Wurbl took a
long swig and wiped his pudgy mouth with his sleeve.
“Greater
things, my fat foot!” spat the cook. “I’d love to see the rear end of this
dung-heap world. You can quote me
on that!”
“Listen,
my fine cook,” Orix, already slightly tipsy, bent forward conspiratorially to
say, “things are going to be a lot different after the next landing, and you
can quote me on that. We’re going to spend time
in this desert upgrading our weaponry and getting all our other equipment up to
speed. There’ll be no more student
field trips next time. This time
we’ll use the leadership we used in the rescue of Rifkin, without, I daresay,
that renegade and his cronies involved.
You mark my word; there’ll be no childish antics then! We’re going to fill our enclosures with
this planet’s creatures and be on our way.” “We’ll send out adults for an
adult’s job and then, praise Izmir,” he belched happily, stabbing a mushka
drumstick with his fork, “we’ll be back in the dark loveliness of space!”
******
As
Doctor Arkru looked down sadly at the great desert below the bridge and
reflected on the wondrous and treacherous world on which a technician,
storeroom clerk, and medic had been killed, he wondered if their mission could
ever be considered worthwhile. Everything
from this point on would be anticlimactic compared to that hour when the
planet’s treasures loomed below them and they first spotted the great leaper
bounding toward its prey.
Everything started to go wrong when they set foot on this dangerous world
and allowed children to run amuck.
How could he justify the loss of three shipmates, two of whose broken
bodies had been left on the forest floor?
What effect this would have on the lives of this planet’s creatures the
professor had not even considered.
All that mattered to him was that they had been forced to leave Tobit
and Varik where they had died, without burial or death rites. It seemed unthinkable that their ashes
would not join Hobi’s in space.
After
leaving the dining hall for his quarters, the professor found himself walking
aimlessly through the ship. He had
been in no mood to celebrate this time, so he drank moderately, while eating
modestly, during his meal. When he found himself in the corridor leading to the
infirmary again, he turned his thoughts to Rifkin, whom Eglin and his assistant
had halfheartedly brought back to life.
When and if he recovered fully from his injuries, what would the
commander and himself do with this wayward student? What punishment would be fitting for his rebellion or the
destruction he had unwittingly caused?
It
almost seemed better if Rifkin had died, he told himself, as he watched Gennep,
the medical trainee, check Rifkin’s vital signs and then leave the room. Currently the lad was unconscious or
merely asleep. Arkru didn’t want
to deal with him when he came to, yet, as Rifkin’s beloved mentor, he bent down
and kissed the student’s ashen brow.
“Sleep
my little warrior,” he whispered faintly. “You’ve got much to answer for when
you wake up.”
The
professor felt tired and out of sorts.
After returning finally to his quarters, he allowed himself a period of
quiet and reflection in his room.
Night, he could see from his porthole, had descended fully on the ship
as the vessel sat jewel-like on the desert and reflected lunar light. Oh, would that the ship break free
from Irignum’s gravity and sail into deep space! his mind cried out, as he
settled down in his pod for sleep.
Most
of the ship’s company and children likewise took their positions in their pods
for sleep, each crewmember, technician and student exhausted and filled with
woe for their friends. Many
shipmates hoped to hear the thrusters roar again, the bulkhead and ceiling of
the ship tremble faintly, and feel that special security as their vessel rose
effortlessly back up into the sky. But their mission was not finished here on
Irignum. When they did lift up
once more they would soon be landing again at a different spot on this hostile
world. Doctor Arkru knew this more
than anyone else, for it was he who had convinced the commander to select
another location on this world.
The
professor awoke eight hours later and emerged from his pod. After getting dressed and sprinkling
water on his face, he set out immediately for the infirmary to check on Rifkin
again. To his amazement, he found
several visitors standing around a blinking and unsteady Rifkin, who was
sitting up in his bead talking to his shipmates in the room. Except for the bruises and welts on his
forehead and arms, he looked much better than he did when Zither visited him
yesterday. The pale pink skin tone
of his species was returning as was the devilish twinkle in his eyes.
Rifkin,
it appeared, was being welcomed back to the living by students and members of
the crew. For those congregating
in the room, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of ill feeling for the tragedy he
caused. Everyone in the room was
just glad that he was alive. There
were no complaints, even from Zorig about his misadventures. Now that the ship had relocated to a
secure place, they were all safe from this dreadful world. Those shipmates who had been fortunate
enough not to have suffered what Rescue Teams One, Two, and Three experienced,
had a chance to see this miraculous young lad. Rifkin had survived an ordeal that should have been certain
death to anyone else. On this
point, everyone agreed, but an undercurrent of hostility was detected by the
professor as he approached Rifkin’s bed.
For
those who had lost friends because of Rifkin, his survival was an outrage. They
lined up in the corridor for a chance to give him a piece of their minds. Three shipmates were dead, partly if
not directly because of his foolishness.
What kind of miracle was this that good shipmates should die? Why should Rifkin be welcomed back to
the living as a hero when he had caused three deaths? Doctor Arkru had passed several of these disgruntled
shipmates in the infirmary corridor outside of Rifkin’s room, taking mental
note of their remarks. Yes,
indeed, Rifkin must be punished severely for this, he thought, clenching and unclenching
his fists. Zorig, in spite of his
own guilt, had been right all along.
No one dare argue against this now! He wouldn’t let himself soften again. He would not allow sympathy for
Rifkin’s wounds to cloud public judgment.
He would make his recommendation to the commander and insist that there
be a vote taken as there was for all such issues on the ship. Falon, who was the leader now and in
control of the ship, had the final say-so in all matters, but Arkru was certain
he would agree that punishment should be meted out.
Not
long after the professor arrived on the scene, Falon and his staff also crowded
into the small room. It seemed as
if the entire ship’s company had finally been alerted by Eglin and Gennep that
Rifkin had survived. Rifkin’s
shipmates arrived continually, either singly or in groups until there was
barely enough room to stand, spilling out into the hall and down the
passageway, eagerly waiting for news of Rifkin’s condition or punishment today. Later, Arkru would learn that Zither
had been Rifkin’s first visitor.
Of all the students aboard the ark, Zither had proved to be the greatest
surprise. His exemplary behavior
in the forest now buoyed the professor’s spirit as he searched the faces in the
room.
“Students,
technicians, officers, and crew members,” Arkru announced, looking sternly at
the patient in the bed. “It is my belief that Rifkin must be isolated for the
remainder of our mission. He is to
be shunned until we arrive at our next planet and will be forbidden to disembark
when we arrive at our next location on this world. He is restricted to the ship and forbidden to talk to the
students and the crew. In olden
times he would have been banished for his behavior, but frankly, now that our
world is dying and our solar system is doomed, there is no place to banish him
to. He has only one place to spend
such an exile and that is on this ship.”
“Does
that mean that we can’t see him anymore?” Urlum, who stood closest to Rifkin,
plaintively asked.
“Of
course Urlum,” Arkru replied testily. “What do you think shunning is? You must not fraternize or talk to him
for this period of time.”
“How
long will that period be?” Vimml asked anxiously. “Are you just counting the
time we’re on Irignum or even after we land on the next world?”
“No,
I just explained that Vimml!” Arkru shook his head in disbelief.
At
that moment, Commander Falon, after remaining aloof in the background, made his
way up to the bed.
“Let
me have a look at this rascal.” He cast a jaundiced eye.
“Do
you concur, commander?” Arkru asked, bowing deferentially as he approached.
“Whatever
you think necessary, professor,” replied Falon, with a shrug. “Frankly, I would
have left him to rot rather than go through what we have in the past few days!”
“I
think it’s fair,” Zither offered from the back of the room.
“You
would!” Rezwit glared, looking protectively down at his friend.
“After
all he should have some form of
punishment,” agreed Imwep, who, with Kogin right behind him, elbowed his way
through the room.
“He
should be shunned! He should be
punished!” Gennep and Jitso murmured amongst themselves, as Ibris and Omrik
nodded their heads.
A
consensus was growing after Zither’s opinion, and yet several shipmates,
including even crewmembers, were shaking their heads.
“All
right,” the commander took control, “let’s have a show of hands…. I see some
hesitation in half of you. This is
unacceptable. Imwep, go into the
corridor and count those not in this room. What will happen to our ship if we don’t put a stop to
Rifkin’s antics once and for all?” “You Zorig,” he pointed accusingly, “where’s
your hand? I thought you, of all
people, would like this rascal punished.
Have you honestly changed your mind? Or is it your sister Urlum, Rifkin’s sweetheart, that makes you
equivocate now?”
“No
sir,” Zorig made a face, “it’s not Urlum.
Under normal circumstance, I would think you’re being too lenient, but
the fact is I deserve punishment myself.
How can I vote to punish him if my incompetence caused the death of Tobit
and Hobi too?”
“Those
were accidents, Zorig,” the professor corrected him irritably. “You did your
best to save your team!” “To tell you the truth, my shipmates,” he turned to
the crowd, “with the exception of Zither, most
of my students acted like cowards on this world. Rifkin was foolish, though he’s still very brave.” “But that
is not the issue here, Zorig,” he reached out in the crowded room to touch the
technician’s trembling hand. “You must not blame yourself, Zorig…. I take the
blame for sending out children to do adult’s work. But, Izmir help me, I did it in good faith. What Rifkin did was against our
codes. He deliberately acted
against the welfare of his teammates.
He did it for glory and not science and caused the chain of events that culminated
in three deaths!”
“So
what do you suggest Arkru?” Falon asked, as Imwep returned with his count. “What?” his eyes popped wide as the
second mate whispered it into his ear. “Humph,” he frowned in disbelief. “….
Strangely enough, after Imwep’s tally, we appear to be evenly divided. Shall we let Zorig be the deciding vote
before we make up our minds?”
“Go
ahead, it’s all right,” Rifkin smiled wanly up at Zorig now. “I’m lucky to be
alive. I’ll take my
punishment. Perhaps on another
world I can someday prove I can behave!”
“Perhaps,”
Zorig said dubiously, “but I vote no.
What purpose is there now?
What good would it do for those who have fallen or for the mission lying
ahead?”
“I
vote yes,” Rifkin said in a cheerful voice. “I shall cast the deciding vote.”
“You
vote against yourself?” Arkru frowned thoughtfully, moved by the Rifkin’s
response. “Do you agree that you should be shunned during the remainder of our
mission?”
“Yes.”
Rifkin looked around at the others with a fading smile. “I’ve had enough of
those beasts for awhile. Give me
other chores on the ship. Let me
feed them and clean up their messes.
I don’t care.”
In
spite of Zorig’s self-abasement and generosity, the professor saw a slight
majority of the shipmates crowding into the room nod their heads. Many of them, he was quite sure, felt
that Zorig needed punishment too.
Everyone knew that Rifkin lied when he said he didn’t care, but it wasn’t
easy to argue with the leniency of the commander and professor’s decision. It included only the remaining
collections required for this mission on Irignum, not their future collections
on other worlds and that day when they would populate another planet with the
creatures they found on this world.
It wasn’t as if they were shunning Rifkin forever or making him stay
permanently inside the ship.
The
professor, with Imwep’s assistance, took another vote to make sure this is what
most of them wanted. It didn’t
really matter, since Falon’s word was law, but he wanted Rifkin to see that
most of his shipmates were more or less in agreement on this matter too. The final vote showed that barely over
half of the ship’s company wanted Rifkin to be punished at all, but it was
enough to reinforce their decision.
Even those who voted in Rifkin’s favor realized how lenient the
punishment was.
Commander
Falon, who had already decided that Rifkin would be punished no matter how the
vote turned out, now had the last word.
Standing close to Rifkin’s bed, his arms folded and lips pursed in
thought, he reached out slowly with one hand.
“You
heard it lad,” he said, gently patting Rifkin’s head. “No talking, no
fraternizing and no leaving the ship!”
“Yes,
I heard it, sir…. Thank you for saving my life,” Rifkin replied, looking around
the room at Remgen, Rezwit, Vimml, and Shizwit, his eyes resting on the
professor’s face. “I’m lucky just to
be alive!”
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