Starship Fall (Starship Seasons, #2)(9)

At this he lapsed into silence again, and our thoughts returned to the alien girl.

An hour later Matt slowed to a stop and indicated the screen on the dashboard. “Dar is twenty kilometres south-west of here,” he said. “There are no metalled roads indicated, and the track isn’t shown on this.” He shrugged. “Any idea where it might be, Hawk?”

“Let’s drive a little further and keep a look out,” Hawk suggested.

Matt started the engine and we drove south-west, keeping our eyes peeled for a break in the jungle to our right. Thirty minutes later Maddie called out, “There!”

A sandy track, little wider than the car itself, interrupted the wall of vegetation. “And look,” she went on, pointing.

A series of saddled hills could be seen beyond the treetops, and kilometres away, nestling in a green clearing between two rearing peaks, stood a collection of huts. Smoke drifted vertically, undisturbed by wind. I made out the tiny stick-figures of alien natives.

“Dar,” Hawk said.

Matt eased the car right, squeezing between the trees. Fronds whipped by, lashing at us. The jungle panoply closed in and the sunlight diminished. We bucked along the uneven track at walking pace.

Matt said, “When we reach the village – if we reach the village – we’ll have to leave the car and continue on foot. How far did you say the sacred site was from Dar?” he asked Hawk.

“Roughly ten kilometres.”

“Hell of a walk,” I said.

The jungle opened out as we climbed, and the track widened. We no longer had to dodge the attention of lashing branches and fronds. Matt picked up speed. I gazed up at the tranquil view of the sequestered alien village and wondered how the locals might receive us – how indeed they might view our quest to retrieve the alien girl before she indulged in what the Ashentay saw as a valid cultural ritual?

I voiced my concern.

Hawk said, “We won’t tell them we want to stop her. We’ll just say we need to find her. The Ashentay aren’t a curious people. They won’t ask questions. It’ll help that I can speak a little of their language. Thing is, we might be too late.”

Maddie said, “Even if we are, Hawk, then look at it realistically – chances are that Kee will be okay.”

“I know, statistically. But even so…”

I said, “But if we find her before she’s taken part in the ritual, how will she react to us barging in and saying she shouldn’t do it?”

Hawk grunted a laugh. “Kee’s stubborn. But I’ll tell her that what she’s doing will hurt me, pain me, and that might make her think again.”

“But,” Matt pointed out, “she’s obviously doing it for a reason. She’s a sensitive person, Hawk; she’ll have thought through the consequences.”

Hawk nodded. “I know, I know. And that’s what makes it all the more painful.” He stopped there, then said, “I’d just like to know why she feels she has to go through with it, is all.”

We had no answer to that, and we fell silent as the car rocked and careered along the pot-holed track.

Ten minutes later Matt slowed down and said, “Look.”

“Jesus,” Hawk said.

A hundred metres ahead, to our right, sunlight glinted off the roof of a bison. It had gone off the track, into the ditch, and fetched up against the thick bole of a palm. It all depended, I thought, on how fast the vehicle had been travelling when it impacted with the tree.

It occurred to me that if she had crashed the vehicle a couple of days ago, injured herself and was still in there... She was a slight creature, almost childlike. I felt my pulse increase as we approached.

Hawk was leaning forward, and I was glad I was unable to make out his expression.

Matt slowed and braked beside the canted bison.

Maddie said, “Are you sure it’s Kee’s?”

Hawk just pointed to the hire-car logo on the door of the vehicle.

We climbed out. The bison’s fender was buckled, the windscreen shattered. There was no sign of Kee. Hawk yanked open the passenger door and climbed inside. I peered in after him.

He was staring at the blood on the dashboard; he gave a low groan. Maddie took his arm and helped him away from the cab; I climbed inside. Matt rounded the vehicle and approached it from the driver’s side. He stared at me through the open door.

“It’s my guess this makes it seem worse than it is,” I said, loud enough so that Hawk could hear. “The driver’s door is open. I reckon she climbed out.”

I scrambled from the cab and joined Matt. He was staring at the broken vegetation in the ditch beside the truck.

“She went this way,” he said, indicating a patch of trampled grass. He moved away from the bison, along the ditch, then climbed out onto the track. I followed him.

He indicated the sandy surface of the road. I made out patches of what looked like scarlet sugar – Kee’s spilled blood that had picked up grains of sand and dried in globules.

Matt called back to Hawk. “She survived the crash and walked away.” He looked up and fitted his hand over his eyes, shielding the sunlight. “I think she made for the village.”

Hawk joined us, Maddie by his side. We followed the sporadic trail of blood along the road until it petered out. Maddie said, “I don’t think she was bleeding all that badly.”