Another

ANOTHER -TIME
ANOTHER - PLACE

Copyright 2002 by K.J.Jekyll. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, or reviews, that are deemed favourable.
    This book is distributed subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be sold, lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publishing agent, in this case being specified as K.J.Jekyll, in any other form of binding other than that in which it is bound.
    All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
    This book contains the complete text of the first larger versions and is marked this year of our Lord 2002 as The Original. This copy supersedes any others as the original, but all other copies remain the sole property of the author.
    This really is the first book, if not the first completed. Written initially by a dreamer, completed by a realist. Predecessor to A Little Law, break from Death’s Domain, warm up to LAW, then Psychosurrender, and many more - there is a God!
    All pros copyrighted as per individual agreements in volumes VI to VIV supplemental, all parts or parts thereof remain protected in this publication, whether it be specified or implied.

Produced in New Zealand, Christchurch, by K.J.Jekyll

We always take for granted what we have;
friends, family, even our lives,
but when they are threatened questions arise,
and make you wonder - about it all.
~
Dedicated to constant travellers -
for no matter the time or method,
there is always going to be the same problem
it's not the journey - but the getting there...

THE DISASTER

If I were but younger,
or yet older
I could stand back and admire life,
but being in the middle
I can only look back and forget,
or look forward with dread!

It was 19.30 when the lights went out.
The fight had been brief, it had been a joke. Zon had been no match for the enemy craft, as such they had dispatched him as a storm trooper dismisses a farmer holding a pitch fork. His last recollection was of whining engines and the destruction of his ship's most sensitive equipment. When at last the red haze subsided, Zon found to his horror, that not only had the ship been damaged beyond immediate repair, but it was diving head first towards an enormous planet. It was an express ride to hell, the ship breaking up, falling to an uncertain future - possibly even death.
Yes death was but a moment away, the war it was over, everything was over for him, and in a way he felt relieved. In the midst of these traitorous thoughts he lost consciousness, as the ship accelerated to its doom.

~ Still alive, the crash brought him back to his senses. At the moment of impact Zon had expected the hull to turn to scrap, but the old girl tenaciously held together - somehow. Despite a noise similar to that of a train running through his head, no damage was immediately obvious. The reality would be far from this false truth. He had survived against all odds, maybe he should take up some form of religion - while he still had a chance.
    Recovering from the concussion of the impact, mentally and physically, his curiosity was aroused - and that was about all. Dragging his reluctant, battered body, to an observation port, he looked to see where lady luck had cast him. One glance was enough to make his stomach feel as empty as space is, his vision could only tell him one thing - that lady luck had deserted him, possibly for all time. He jumped to this conclusion because, all he could see, was an endless horizon of liquid, he was sure that it wouldn't be water... more like liquid death!
    Despite the fact that he'd collected quite a number of cuts, abrasions and bruises, curiosity overrode the pain - he had to know if there was any chance at being rescued, or escape. Checking the control console confirmed the main motors were dead, blow number one - he was in the coffin and the lid was on already! Searching frantically from here, he found that the navigation computer, communications and weapons systems were also inoperable, nails in the lid of his coffin. Before announcing himself burried alive, he had a reprieve, even if it were only a small one. Miraculously there was a system still functioning, life support, but even that was in an on / off random manner, more off than on actually.
    Seeing no easy way out, powerless to leave this place, unable to call for help, his only option seemed to be to tend to his injuries. The crash had shaken quite a few fittings loose, and these had done an amazing amount of damage in a very short space of time. One of the items battered almost beyond recognition was the med kit, which normally hung on a bulkhead, next to the door to the lift. Some piece of equipment had managed to cross the gap to this seemingly safe spot and reshape the box, to open it now required a can opener. Since these weren't standard issue, med kit can openers, he used a screw driver, that had fallen out of a tool box, a box that he could no longer find!
    Managing at last to get the med kit open, finding the contents still usable, Zon dressed his wounds as best he could. Considering the; swell, roll, and his darkening mood, this was no easy task. Next he cannibalized the useless nav' computer, in view to repairing the inoperative comms' unit. Lesson one of the survival manual, if you can't escape, scream for help as loud as you could - and hope you attract more friends than enemies! This sounded easy, trash one unit and fix another with the acquired components, switch on and begin talking. Well even with a working knowledge of the systems components, and their designed similarly, Zon wasn't sure if he was going to have even one working unit, or just a larger pile of junk than when started.
    After several hours of toil, he tried his call sign, the batteries seemed good, the meters showing an output. He was positive something was being transmitted, but wasn't sure of the exact format, frequency or output any more. He recorded a identification message and played it for a long time, just in case someone could hear him, but there were no replies. Either his efforts had been to no avail because the equipment was not functioning properly, the signal was too weak, there were no other friendly ships within response distance, or simply the enemy wasn't interested.
    After hours of this continuous request for assistance, no reply came - not even a whisper. Considering the transmitter equipment and useless mike, Zon felt depressed, and very alone. To add to this growing mood of ill being, the swell of the liquid deepened, making existence within this floating coffin even more uncomfortable. Like all good space cowboys, his sea legs weren't as good as the average sailor's, and no matter how he would wish it otherwise, he began to feel sick. Just when he thought the nightmare was coming to a climax - it had happened, to be stuck in a freighter, riding the high seas in a storm, with no end to the disaster in sight. Somehow through all this he managed to maintain a portion of dignity, and the contents of his stomach, it was a small show of defiance - proving he still had control over something!
    A number of hours further on, he figured the wind must have changed direction, because there was a new intensity, a new urgency in the freighter's motions. Finally the last bastion of control was torn from him, as he lost the contents of his stomach - amidst a curse to whatever God would listen. In time it became impossible to do anything, but vainly hang on to any anchor point, to prevent himself from being tossed around like a called coin, heads or tails? The comms unit he had been working on was torn from its moorings, and again rendered inoperative. This time it was a little more dramatic in announcing its retirement, by wrecking anything that got in its path.
    Helpless to do anything but watch the ship destroy itself, it seemed that this would be Zon's last voyage. With a distinct mood gathering around him, he was sick and tired of the scene, literally and actually. The only consolation he could see that offered any hope was, bad luck couldn't last forever, or could it? ~ A restless night's sleep over, Zon's strength long since failed, he had let go of his purchase on the ship, and just rolled with the blows. There had been quite a few of these during the course of the night. Having lived through the ordeal, somehow, he found the conditions outside to be mildly improved. The wind having dropped to a breeze, the sea of liquid, settled to a choppy surface, twin suns shining brilliantly.
    The only good news so far in this planet fall, was the overnight blow had driven this floating nightmare to within vision's range of land. This was both good and bad, seeing land again boosted his morale, but reaching it presented a new and daunting problem. In his present condition he found it hard to think rationally, his desire to escape his entombment blotting out all - even reason. The obvious answer, obvious to a rational soul, was to use the escape shuttle fitted to all middle weight class freight cruisers. Unfortunately Zon would not be capable of rational thought for several hours, and during this time became quite lost in a sea of confusion. Then there were such considerations as; would he be any better off on solid land, where the very grass could be alive and carnivorous. Would escaping this floating prison, be nothing more than a swifter death than running out of oxygen? Would he lose his way, to never to be heard of again - no matter what he did?
    Such thoughts were pointless, fruitless, thankfully in time his rationale did return, and he saw the light. Zon saw the light all right - in a freak swell, the freighter losing all poise, belly flopping down then under the water. Such was the ferocity of this action, he feared one of these freak swells might swallow him and the ship forever.
    "I am as good as dead if I stay here much longer - no matter the odds, I have to leave the freighter while I can!"
    The best thing to do, he finally persuaded himself, was to leave and find an equitable solution, if one existed outside the ship, hopefully which would include returning to his people. If he failed, the worst thing that could said of him was - at least he hadn't tried...
    As a soldier Zon was schooled in the realities of his profession, that he must face his nemesis - year to year, month to month, day by day. Some people seemed to face such events sooner than others, his time was upon him, funnily enough he was more than just a little curious at how things would turn out. So began the preparations to his flight for survival, the answer to this disaster, and the beginning of another...
    Gathering the appropriate equipment,, he loaded the shuttle, making a list of items, which included; food, clothing, medical supplies, assorted weapons and miscellaneous equipment. When the shuttle was packed to the point of overflowing, a further list was made, of what he had been forced to leave behind. This list was by far the greater of the two. This record should enable him to analyse what resources he had left at his disposal, one of the first things he intended on doing upon reaching dry land, was to ground this floating warehouse of supplies.
    The time had come to undertake the maiden voyage into the unknown, thinking on the subject was enough to put him off, so he didn't. At 10.46 he pushed the auto release button on the shuttle's console, there was a sharp jolt as the catches released, a slight vibration and gurgling, the shuttle was at last free. Making a few tests he determined the shuttle had detached successfully, floating from the only hope he had of escaping this place, a false hope now - it would seem. Hope or not, it was a relief to able to manoeuvre away from the bulk of the freighter, and its possibility of sinking. It was a definite commitment to the good intentions of a hostile looking world, of which he had been an inhabitant for only a couple of days.
    All systems activated, he fired the main drive unit, of course nothing happened! The shuttle just floated like a duck, while he looked vainly at the controls, what they suggested did little for his sense of humour. Making a closer inspection, he discovered that during the attack, the shuttle had suffered more damage than had been immediately obvious. The main propulsion unit of the shuttle needed an overhaul. All he could pray for now was, that the auxiliary units hadn't met with a similar fate. If there were no auxiliary units, he wouldn't be able to manoeuvre at all, he would be trapped with a diminished supply of food. He would be worse off than when he'd been in the freighter!
    Praying to any God that would listen, Zon flipped off the cover for firing the auxiliary booster rockets, and pushed the big red button. Two of the starboard booster manoeuvring jets that were out of the water roared into life, this was enough to set him on his way. With a prevailing onshore wind driving the shuttle towards land, combined with the periodic firing of the boosters for direction, he managed to make steady progress, of at least a couple of knots.
    Trailing out behind, attaching the Shuttle to the Freighter, was a single fibre cable, incredibly small, incredibly strong, its sole purpose ship recovery. This cable was designed for accidents in space, or when manoeuvring jets had either failed or were not suitable. He didn't believe the extra strain of working in water, rather than the vacuum of space would shorten the life of the equipment. The sole aim of his actions now were to prevent himself from joining the equipment's promising future, of failing before the warranty expired. There was about 5 km of line available, he guessed it should be enough for the shuttle to reach the shore, considering both vehicles were drifting to land. As the cable and time unwound, it gave him a period to reflect on just what had led him to this crazy set of events - that of being ship wrecked. ~ Far, far away, in a place that may as well have belonged to another time and another place, a state of war was waging, as it had done for many long bloody years. Classic good against evil, the fight against the greedy and unjust deeds - the people who would steal from and ultimately enslave them. Zon being a pilot soldier of Earth, had become a casualty of the war, even though not actively involved in fighting at the time. The freighter full of supplies, destined for an outpost colonised planet, a planet claimed as Earth's, to the vehement denials of the enemy. It had been declared that this world had always been, and would always be the property of the colonists, of course no interest had been shown in this place till it had been terraformed. The claims and counter ones had refocused the aggression of two armies, Zon had flown straight through the middle of it - exit a soldier.
    The freighter was of the BH type, being designated as a Basic Hauler, Zon was more inclined to designate it as Bloody Hopeless, in this day's environment. The very fact he had been done like a old lady in a dark alley, just confirmed this, of course he was glad to be proved right - belatedly. The last comment his commander had made reflected this - in introspect. "What ever you do Zon, avoid contact with the enemy!"
    Now he knew why such a mysterious thing had been said, possibly the commander had flown one of these horrible things too, he certainly looked old enough for that. The single turret gun mounted on the side of the ship, had probably been more than enough when the designers had drawn up the ship plans. But in the years since, the war had blossomed into a truly vicious thing, along with a whole new technology of weaponry. As it had been said more than once, war was probably the only way to accelerate the progress of technology, outside making everyone slaves. Yes, they were slaves, slaves to their worlds, to struggle to be free - slaves and free to be slaves, wasn't that a slight contradiction?
    A sudden lurch in the ship's voyage broke him from such thoughtst, bringing it all back to the point of now, leaving him to consider what the future would become. The picture of a bleached white set of bones, propped against some inhospitable outcrop of rock, haunted his imagination briefly. Zon had to quickly divert himself from becoming bogged down in the hopelessness of this situation. Making himself busy, he continued with the task of plotting a future, assessing what should be the first appropriate moves, upon making land fall.
    Progress was slow, and though the land was strange, it looked inviting; brown, yellow, purple, green, alive... The journey to complete this voyage took days, entirely boring in every sense, a rather fortunate thing, since nothing could be done about problems anyway. In a way it was mildly ironic, that he had covered millions of kilometres in a few days, and now couldn't cover five kilometres in three... ~ It was dusk when the shuttle finally touched the first hint of land, five full wearisome and boring days since he had landed. Landed wasn't really the correct term, maybe fell from grace was closer, or was that losing his mind... Looking at the inviting scene amidst the growing darkness, he forced himself to stay in his prison - as if he had any choice! There was little thought required now, to recognise the consequences of venturing outside his cocoon, till at least he could see the face of his doom more clearly. Another night inside the shuttle wasn't going to kill him, well no faster than doing something stupid, and he'd already done that long ago, joining the armed forces.
    Making the best of the situation, contemplating what man eating creatures awaited him in the dark and mysterious outsides, he closed down the shuttle's systems, preparing for yet another night in solitary - but alive. ~ With the first rays of dawn, Zon began preparations for transition from sailor to civilian. He looked forward to the change, like a root canal, he hoped the man eating creatures didn't mind becoming vegetarians. Being cautious, and not as blind as some of those who had suggested he take up this mission, he tested the air outside. The actual test was pretty crude, using the shuttle's life support system as a guide, but it did give an indication if he would actually be better off dying inside the shuttle, or outside. Indications were that the air, was just that, oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, in fact suspiciously too good to be true.
    Once in suit and helmet, with a laser rifle that might be as effective as a faulty pea shooter, Zon manually released the skyward facing hatch. The hatch swung open, thankfully not damaged by the trip so far. As the hatch swung away from him, he was showered with water, the atmosphere and unknown future rushed in. So he was committed, if the atmosphere did hold some hidden death, he had invited it into his home. Pulling himself out of the opening, he got his first really good look at this place - his new home. For a moment he thought it funny, how easily survivors adapted to new concepts under stress, but he was green enough not to realise, that only later in his solitude, he would discover the real nature of the situation.
    The landscape layed out before him, although wind swept, was in no way barren. Unidentifiable tussocks covered the beach in all directions, in the distance, woods stood tall and proud. It could have been any G type planet, but it wasn't, it could have been Earth, it wasn't. Zon took another chance, not a great one, but still a chance. Cautiously he opened his visor, just a crack, not that it made any difference, for a poison is a poison is a poison...
    After numerous heart beats and a few breaths, it became evident that the air had no immediate poisoning content, or was slow acting, like old age. As the heart beats and breaths passed, he scanned the ground, for signs of life, dangerous and harmful life. No living thing stirred, the air was still, and apart from the sound of the water, it was as quiet as a grave yard. Tired of sitting on the top of the shuttle, he decided to go to work, in the form of making his stay a little more pleasant, and more or less permanent. Throwing a short rope ladder over the side, he slid to the ground, it felt good to have that solid stuff under his feet again.
    Priority one, was to find something to tie his salvation to. He needed an anchor, to winch it up on to the beach and beyond with. In the distance he spied a group of trees, just suitable to the task, but they didn't look very enthusiastic about the proposition. He couldn't persuade them to move a millimetre nearer the water, perhaps they were crazy, or was it him! Since the trees were too far from the shuttle, posts would have to be sunk in the sand, these being dug at an angle away from the shuttle, to give a sufficient anchor point to winch against. So armed with laser and single core fibre, he headed for the woods, knowing only his goal - not the means by which he might achieve it.
    Finding the trees, as it turned out, was the easy part, felling and trimming them tedious, and hauling the intermediate posts into position, unexpectedly difficult. The difficulty was not with the posts, nor the winch, but the single core line. Having never had to handle it before, he found that although it was small in size, and incredibly strong, it was also very difficult to control. The answer was to wear gloves, or be content with the rope's uncanny ability to act like a very long razor. The next problem was that if the line became kinked, it would soon fracture at this point, which it did several times - luckily only near the ends. As if this wasn't enough to try and contend with, the single core line was also very elastic, necessitating that allowances were required for hauling heavy objects, and to make doubly sure the rope was fully untensioned before releasing it - otherwise watch out!
    Coming to terms with the line, after discovering its quirks, and just about killing himself in the process, he managed to move the intermediate posts into position. Taking these small posts, three, each at the limit of the line, he proceeded to dig them in - good exercise it was too. Having achieved this, after more than a bit of effort, a lot of cursing, and many tedious hours, he had a lunch of concentrates. Zon now had the means by which he could move the larger and stronger posts into position, posts that he hoped to haul his new home off the water front with.
    During his break he prayed his exercise starved body didn't seize up, or lose his home in a big swell - or ever become ship wrecked again. It had turned into a beautiful warm day, and so far there had been not even an hint of danger, which was a welcome change. Lunch and rest over, it was back to the forest, this time without his encumbering suit. Cutting down two largish trees, trimming them to pointed poles of eight meters each, he lugged the first into position, winching with the aid of the short posts he had previously set in the morning's escapade. By night's fall the two main posts were in place, with the shuttle tied firmly to the first. Following a day's work as this he was dying for a shower, and the shuttle was equipped with an affair that could loosely be termed one. It consisted of a teflon bag that fitted around the body and tied at the neck, still it was warm and wet - almost like a mother's womb... The shower suit was filled with warm water containing a small amount of soap, you did your thing, then emptied it by switching on a suction pump. Though only a poor excuse for a shower, it was the nearest for millions of kilometres, Zon was thankful for small luxuries. Knowing the limits that were going to be imposed on him, he made the best of this luxury - not knowing how long it would be before a rescue came, if ever.
    The shower represented a true escape from the tragedy of the wreck, that feeling of absolute cleanliness, the warm release from the cold reality of being the only human on this God forsaken planet. One final rinse, dry off, and he was ready to eat and retire for the night, alone. It was a blessing that sleep fell on him like a blade, even if it were from some vindictive executioner's arm. If it were not for this he could have lain awake all night becoming increasingly depressed at the idea, that he might never again behold the face of another human being... ~ Morning dawned far too soon for a tired body, but needs dictated that Zon act swiftly and surely. 09.00 found him breakfasted, limbered, and ready. From here he spent two hours sweating and cursing the designers, if there were any, of the winch unit that was supposed to bolt easily on to the nose of the shuttle. No matter how much he sweated, cursed, and threatened, the bloody thing just didn't want to fit. Having a definite task in mind, and a time limit to perform it within, his mood went from dark to black to indescribable.
    "It's like this," he began talking to the winch, having failed with every other avenue of rational, "either you let me bolt you on, or you're going to wish you were on another planet!" So it was the miracle happened, the bolts slipped in as sweet as pie, the plugs, sockets and fittings snapping closed perfectly. All he could do was shake his head and wonder at the humour of God. If he ever escaped this hellhole, he was going to tell the makers of this accessory some home truths about their product, and mention that even God thought it was a joke...
    At long last the shuttle was tied to the first main post via the winch, and the winch hooked into the main batteries. The systems seemed okay to his inexperienced eye, so all that remained was to turn on the power and watch his handiwork in action. Smiling to himself he considered what might very well become a creed in this place, here comes another disaster. Flipping the switch to on, the winch uttered a plaintiff whine, as it leapt dutifully to life. The slack took up rapidly, the rope stretching taunt, the shuttle doing a little jump as it started moving slowly up the beach. Success! He had half expected either the post to come to the shuttle, or the winch to detach itself from its mooring, and take up the journey on its own. No such predicted disasters took place, and he was thankful for small mercies.
    The first pole was set at the top of a rise about 300 meters from the shuttle, progress while slow was constant, taking about an hour to reach the 250 metre point. At this stage there was little point in persisting, as the slope and flattening batteries made the going dreadfully slow. His home was now well and truly safe from but the biggest of seas. High and dry, safe and sound, he'd just have to wait for the solar cells to recharge the batteries, and judging the by strength of the suns, this wouldn't take long.
    Having said this, he set up the solar panels, which entailed releasing and swinging up as many outside panels as possible. These panels were armour and heat shield on the outside, lined with solarcollector cells on their inside. As a secondary measure, there were also several large, ultra thin and light panels stored inside - cells designated specifically for crash landings. Using a multi programmable frequency remote, Zon programmed the panels so they opened when the light at its best, thus capturing as much power as possible - considering the fact that the ship was lying on at least a fifth of them. A few of the panels didn't want to open, despite being supposedly indestructible - a sure sign of age and the recent punishment received, or the total lack of maintenance. He did manage to get a number of the damaged panels open, with the aid of a large screwdriver used as a crowbar, but it didn't take long to tire of this game - this would have to do for now. As a last act Zon set up the portable panels from inside, at least this was a simple job, taking no more than a couple of minutes. With the flexible superleads(tm) he plugged the panels into an external outlet, so the charging system was set to go - with one exception.
    With everything in position all he had to do now was program it to his requirements. Although it was semi intelligent, this older type system could not adapt to every environment - the anomaly in this case being the presence of two suns. These would provide a hell of a lot more light, and therefore energy than on a planet like Earth, something the primitive solar collector system would completely miss. Taking this into account, he set out a few guidelines, specifically the maximum amount of charge in watts, the maximum rate of charge in amps, and voltage to be maintained. Additional parameters that had to be specified were, which panels had priority, i.e. would be in direct light the longest, if there were any external panels fitted, ambient temperature, time of charge required etc. Activating the system then, he watched for signs of life, and indeed there was some, the controller started by closing half a dozen of the panels he'd laboriously opened. It appeared, as he'd suspected, that there was more than enough light here to charge the batteries, so at least one thing, power, would not be an issue.
    Having nothing further that required immediately attention, apart from finding a place to park the shuttle, he decided to do just that, find a new home. It might have been a whim, but not quite so impulsive as to forego the common sense of putting his suit back on. He would take it off once the area had been deemed clear, but it would be hard to put one on while being attacked by a ten headed monster with bad breath. Tools down, visor open, he went for a stroll, scanning ceaselessly for any nasty surprises that might be lurking behind flaxy looking shrubs, under bushes or trees.
    Wandering at random for a time, he entered the woods, woods in the broadest sense of the word, since the trees weren't at all like those back home. The trees of this forest were covered in a yellow bark, with strange markings - deep gouges, almost like signs - KEEP OUT! There was a real possibly that these signs had been made by the inhabitants of the forest, but he could not even begin to imagine what had made these marks. Shutting out thoughts like these, he told himself to stop creating monsters that weren't there. These were just normal tress, just trees - that was all that mattered, wasn't it? These trees would have to suffice, he would become used to them eventually, especially since it seemed likely he'd be here for quite some time, and need quite a few to make his new home out of.
    In the quieter moments of his past, Zon remembered hearing stories of survivors of crashes like this, living in a fashion he was facing. They had, so the stories went, survived for years, without losing too much sanity. Being an eternal pessimist, he wondered how many of the total crashes were heard about, fifty percent, less - single figures? As the stories went, most of the crash victims were rediscovered, one way or the other. With a final shrug he hoped it was alive rather than dead, trying unsuccessfully at the same time to suppress the thought, that not many survivors crashed out in the middle of no man's land, like here...
    The suns were both bright and hot, the trees sheltering the land from the slight onshore breeze. Since there seemed little to be thankful for, apart from still being alive, he was thankful for good weather. Keeping in mind the constraints of distance, time, selecting a sheltered sight, had an area for cropping, and provided for ease of defence, Zon judged every sight on its merits. Since distance was one of the most important factors, being that he didn't and couldn't haul the shuttle far, it didn't take long to find a compromise between ideals. Naturally the site was not far from where the shuttle currently lay, and he looked forward to establishing a base, settling down, and starting his efforts to retrieve the freighter very soon. Utmost on his mind was making an exodus from this place, but realistically such a thing was not really plausible.
    Having circled the chosen area, assessing it to be clear of hazards and fire breathing dragons, he sat in a secluded spot and removed his suit. Though out of his body armour, he still had the trendy and quite fashionable light weight body suit to protect him. Cooling from the day's activities, he sat and listened to the surroundings, to his surprise he heard what sounded like wild life all around; buzzes, twitters and a full range of movements. At this he uttered a sigh of relief, having reached land alive and well, these sounds confirmed there was no problem with food. If these creatures could survive then why couldn't he? His next thought was even more encouraging, if there were animals / creatures here, maybe he could hunt and eat them, or failing that domesticate one as a pet, for any company should be better than none.
    At this idea of creatures and company, he experimentally cupped his hands and yelled out, then listened. His actions were rewarded with the sounds of a forest alive with the scufflings and cries of whatever unintentionally answering his call. Whatever these things were, he was glad of their company, as long as they were smaller than him, and weren't carnivores. In the heat of the suns, it didn't take long for him to drift from the reality of the surrounding scene, and start day dreaming of home and forbidden pleasures. He remembered his buddies, stand down periods, long nights on the town, the girls on shore leave... Abruptly his thoughts were diverted by a rustling, sure in the knowledge there weren't any cows within millions of kilometres. The noise grew in intensity, approaching at a reasonable rate, until a small animal similar to that of a fox appeared in the clearing. This so familiar looking creature completed the picture by studying the new comer, with great green eyes, tilting its head from one side to the other.
    Zon stared at the creature and it stared back, neither of them moving nor daring to breathe. Zon had the feeling the new comer was as surprised to see him as he was it. The impasse stood for a score of minutes, till Zon wondered who should move first, of course the answer was - neither of them moved. Being a tolerant, patient sort of guy, he soon got sick of this inactivity, it was getting neither of them anywhere, so holding out a hand, with no idea at the reception he might receive - he threw caution to the wind - again! Far from attacking or taking his hand off at the shoulder, the creature drew back, as if not wishing to come too close. It was a stalemate, Zon was not able to induce the small creature to come nearer, nor for that matter make it go away.
    Rising Zon was determined to reach at least some form of understanding with this creature, taking half a dozen paces toward the Fox, to which it backed off accordingly. They played this game for a minute or two, and when Zon returned to his seated position the creature followed, keeping the same distance all the while. Strange behaviour for a non intelligent life form, or was it?
    Eventually Zon gave up trying to induce a response, either it was going to come closer and attempt communication, or it was going to leave, as a curious pet would after the novelty had worn off. Only time would resolve this matter. By this stage the suns had reached their zenith, in his book this meant only one thing, dinner time. Pulling out a few packets of concentrates from his suit, he punctured the tough vinyl sachet and squirted the contents into his mouth. Following the main course came desert and a small sachet of alcohol, that stated in big red letters a court martial warning. FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY! If this wasn't an emergency then he didn't know what the hell was, he was prepared to be court martial - but they would have to come and rescue him first! During all this activity, the furry alien had been watching intently, neither moving nor uttering a sound. Now that dinner was over, the effects of sun, calories, alcohol and previous events began to take their toll. Suddenly Zon felt as if the weight of the world had been placed upon his shoulders, as his eyelids became heavy, oh so very heavy.
    Struggling against this feeling, knowing the danger he could be facing, he vainly tried to get to his feet, but his battered body just laughed at such strenuous thoughts. Before he could think what else to do, he was drifting helplessly into a troubled sleep. Darkness fell upon him like a blanket of black lead, where there was nothing but oblivion waiting amongst the folds of its encompassing sheets. He embraced it like a sheep to the slaughter - Baa... ~ He awoke with a start, it was cooling off, and the woods were full of wild animal cries - full of death and mayhem by the sounds of things. He took in his new surroundings, discovering quickly that the fox creature had moved, finding a comfortable spot beside him. With one eye it was watching him, while the other continually swept the horizon, as monitoring for some unseen danger - possible connected to the forest cries. This discovery of the fox's new position left him stunned, one move and he could be dinner, or safer than if he'd been in the shuttle. Taking a deep cleansing breath he congratulated himself, he had done it again, disaster and mayhem should be his middle names, now let's see, that would make, Zon Disaster Mayhem Truan. Hmmm, not too bad, had a definite ring of reality to it...
    Meanwhile back in the real world... the Fox, he could think of no other name for it at this stage, it had both eyes on him now - time for diner? Gazing into those unfathomable alien eyes, he tried to second guess what he saw, determine an answer, friend or foe? With no logic to support his gut feelings he reasoned friend, he was still alive, but his paranoia screamed foe. No matter what the answer, a decision would have to be made soon, before some other creature came along and cleared up the indecision. This planet had an atmosphere a bit like a desert's, hot during the day, cold at night, and as the suns were fading into the sea, a chill in the air hinting that it might get quite cold.
    "Well little friend," he spoke to his companion for the first time, in quiet, friendly tones, "what intentions do you have for me?"
    He didn't have to wait long for an answer, again there was that head tilted sideways look of intelligence, accompanied this time by a whistling sound, possibly a form of speech, that varied in pitch and tone rapidly. When it had finished the Fox looked expectant, in other words, it looked at him with a penetrating gaze. Zon smiled and hazarded a friendly pat on its head - hoping the action would not be misinterpreted as an attack.
    "I'm sorry, but I don't know if you're trying to communicate, or just making noise for the sake if it."
    Uncannily it seemed his intentions were understood, certainly not verbally, but possibly by the tones and actions he'd used. The Fox nuzzled his hand, taking it then between its forepaws and squeezing gently, as if understanding his predicament only too well. These actions both puzzled and confirmed Zon's suspicions, the Fox's behaviour definitely indicating intelligence, possibly not as his, but as is accepted throughout the universe. These exchanges eased the tension slightly, yet the problem of communication remained, and Zon was sure the solution would be beyond his mediocre abilities. It was going to take him all his time just to survive, without additional worries of trying to fathom questions regarding the ethics, protocols, customs, and speech of an alien creature, that could still be friend or foe.
    "I must go." he uttered rising, stepping back into his armoured suit and picking up his helmet - as the dimness of approaching night grew around them.
    The Fox followed this example of retreat, moving cautiously, looking pensive. Turning to leave, albeit reluctantly, Zon was stopped by another set of whistlings.     Crouching in front of the Fox, it nuzzled up to him, trying to convey a message - but of what? Again came the whistlings for emphasis, but exactly what was it trying to convey, Zon was at a loss to understand. Alien life forms were not his speciality, God only knew mankind had only met with a few other intelligent ones, and each time he did he only succeeded in making a mess of things. Man was a; greedy, untrustworthy, double crossing, evil, base creature, a people best avoided - like most alien life forms had done through mankind's entire existence. Zon knew if he were an alien and discovered man, it would be a close call between avoiding or destroying them - before the plague of man infested his system and people.
    With such heady thoughts behind him, all Zon could do was sadly shake his head at the Fox, it would be for the best if they parted - for both their sakes. Despite the lack of coherent communication, a degree of understanding came between them, with a long look of those large green eyes, the Fox turned and walked away, obviously returning to its own... If only Zon could have done the same.
    Zon remembered then of times, ago, when childhood was but a collection of hazy, happy memories, which were briefly interrupted by moments of pain. As he had grown, control and understanding had come from his mistakes, till that instant awareness began. From that point on life had become his own private mission - a journey begun from nowhere to nowhere. His life's essence seemed predestined to follow that road, that was to discover the end, yet he questioned this, surely there was more. Secretly he wondered what end he would find on this foreboding planet, just what the Fox thing represented of the life forms to be found here - pet to a greater species, or master of the planet.
    Often things did seem what they were not, and to unravel these paradoxes it would be best to think as Foxes - which Zon definitely wasn't. Still the tail hadn't ended until he was befriended, until the last battle hymn was sung, the last battle won. So it would be that, he looked to the sky as his direction of rescue, the place where he belonged - where his heart lay. The ultimate answer to his future lay out there somewhere, waiting for him to awaken it, but now the chances of this seemed slim.
    A feeling of loss overcame him, as he realized being trapped here meant he had probably lost any chance of finding out who he really was, to have no chance at realising it. To top this off he had had to dismiss a potential companion on this isolated planet, that there might never be another chance for such an experience. Cold logic took control from this point, overruling such emotions roughly, what else could he have done? He couldn't afford to waste time on an alien, that might never have been able to contribute to his exodus from this back water, only hindering any effort to escape. Having made this thought he knew it was false, treasuring companionship as he did, he would have loved to have spent hours learning to communicate with the Fox - but he didn't have hours to spare...
    In the end Zon convinced himself that in these early stages on his new home world, it wasn't a practical or safe option - but even as he convinced himself of this, he didn't believe it. It was up to fate now, to determine what would happen to the poor sod named Zon - live or die!