The city had looked so close when our shuttle had been falling out the sky, smoke billowing from its engines. Walter, my co-pilot, spotted it first. There, at the edge of the ocean of sand it stood, with highways and skyscrapers, sunshine flashing from millions of silver windows. We both could see it plainly as the two of us sat helpless in the cockpit of the crippled dying spacecraft. It looked to be ten miles away at the most, a few hours walking and we would be safe. Neither of us had any way of controlling the descent of my damaged vessel, as all the instruments were useless, but with civilization so close by it did not matter so much where the ship landed. Or so I reasoned.
The shuttle crashed into the side of a high earthy hill, throwing sand everywhere, smashing a large crater into the otherwise undisturbed landscape. When the dust settled and I discovered, to my mild surprise, that I was alive, and that Walter was as well, I unbuckled myself from the crash restraints and heaved open the battered door. I stumbled out of the soldering wreck and surveyed my surroundings. Walter attempted to open the hatch on his own side, and finding it jammed shut, crawled out my side. We found ourselves in the middle of the desert, and it was stiflingly hot. No real shock there, since Dragonna was a desert planet. A hot breeze spit grains of sand into my face, as I gazed in the direction that the city most certainly lay. Walter shielded his eyes from the bitter blast of wind, and point off in the direction exactly opposite of the one I had been looking in. "It should be just over that far dune," he stated. "I bet we could be able to get there by nightfall."
"No," I replied. "It's this way." I pointed toward the western horizon. A small squabble ensued, which ended with us deciding to go Walter's way. That hardly seemed fair to me since I was the pilot, and therefore the boss. We should go the way I said we should go. But nonetheless, we somehow ended up choosing to go the way he wanted.
With high hopes I clambered back into the mangled hulk that had once been my supply shuttle. I rooted about until I found two small container of water, in amongst the food rations. I considered bringing some of the dehydrated food that we ate during space travel, but decided against it. There was probably not enough spare water to hydrate it, and we probably would not be walking far more that a few hours. The water would be enough. I clipped one of the canteens to my belt and climbing back into the sand, tossed the other one to Walter.
I could consider it fortunate, I thought as I trudged up yet another mountain of dirt, that our ship had even made it this far. It must have been in worse shape than I had imagined. After all, my craft could have gone on the fritz somewhere in the middle of hyperspace. Then I would really have been doomed. I had heard stories of such things. I had also heard of other, less fortunate lone pilots getting stranded in the middle of the desert, thousands of miles from anywhere. We were lucky to have landed so closed to one of only five cities on the entire planet. I wondered, as I walked on, how this place had gotten approved for colonization. Hot, dry and barren. Just the place I'd want to live. Of course, It did not matter what I thought of the planet at the moment. I was going to be here for quite some time.
I reached the top of the dune and caught me first glimpse of the new landscape that lay on the other side. I was not all too surprised to find that there was no city on the other side, because there had not been one on the other side of the last dune or the dune before, or any of the dozens of dunes I had climbed that day. All that stood before me was more sand, more rolling hills, more wind, and more blazing sun. I swore. A little change would have made it more bearable. If the ground, perhaps, had changed colors, I would not have minded so much. But no, just more yellow. Yellow sun, yellow sand, yellow sky.
No city.
No water.
An oasis would also have been nice. I had not had a drink in a couple of hours. My throat was rather parched by this time. I was hungry as well. I wished briefly that I had brought some of the food from the crash with me. Who cared that there was no water with which to hydrate it. Not me, I would have eaten the powder dry out of the packet at this point.
I also would have welcomed back Walter's company, as it was kind of lonely out here all alone. I imagined that dying of thirst would not be so bad if you have someone to do it with. Of course I would never have the company of Walter again.
I replayed the scene over again in my mind for about the thousandth time.
"Hey Walt." I said dropping my empty canteen into the dirt. "Let me have a drink."
"No way," Walter replied indignantly. "Why should you get more than me?"
"Because I'm thirsty."
"Well," Walter stopped and planted his hands on his hips in a very motherly fashion. "Maybe you shouldn't have drunk all your water so fast. Perhaps you should have saved it up like I did," he scolded.
"Don't chastise me!" I warned. "I am your boss remember."
"You're still not getting any of my water."
"Just a sip!" I cried. "Enough to moisten my tongue!"
"No! This is mine!"
"Come on!"
"Get lost!"
Just then I remembered the sidearm I was required to carry, because of the rising treat of pirates. I quickly reached down, removed the gun, and pointed it at Walter's head. "Give me a drink!!" I bellowed, easing back the hammer. I heard a bullet click into the chamber.
"Whoa! Hang on!" Walter raised his hands in alarm. "Let's not do anything rash."
I waved the gun. "All I want is a drink of water!" I shouted.
"Just put the gun away!" Walter shouted back. "It isn't worth it!"
I let out an unintelligible yell and pulled the trigger. The gun, which I had never fired before, went off and nearly leaped out of my hand. Walter managed a single squeak of surprise before tumbling over backward into the sand. A great sea of red spread across the front of his flight coverall. I gazed in horror, finally realizing what I had just done. The man who I had once considered my friend, the man who I used to hang out with in the bars on our off days, who had helped me build my summer cottage and bypass the building inspections, now lay dead in the sand, and I had a smoking gun in my hand.
I fled a few paces away and buried the weapon as deep as I possibly could, as if that would somehow undo what I had just done. It didn't. When I looked up, Walter still lay in the soil, his lifeless eyes staring back into mine. His face held an expression of complete astonishment. Surprise at what a desperate thirsty man could be driven to do for a drink of water. I quickly scooped up Walter's canteen from where it had fallen, and unable to bare the sight of my degeneration any longer, turned and hurried away.
That was a scene that ran over and over again in my mind like a film on an endless loop. As much as I tried to forget, I could not. That betrayed expression on Walter's face was a picture that would stay with me as long as I lived. A drink of water was not worth killing for, I determined as, hungry, thirsty and down trodden in spirit, I plodded on.
We had been doing a routine supply run to the military installation on the far side of Dragonna when the shuttle had broken down. It had been a completely regular run. The two of us traveled from Nnel'Kan to Dragonna and back every two weeks, with a day or two to rest at each destination. I had been overseeing the loading of this trip's cargo; a ship full of bananas, of all exiting things, in the Nnel'Kan spaceport, when a technician had come on the wire with an announcement. "All craft please stand by for routine diagnostics of mechanical and navigational systems. This should only take an hour at the most. We apologize for the delay," he said. I had groaned to myself in dismay. The last time they had done this to us; that I had actually stuck around for; I had been put three hours behind schedule. Walter and I had taken to skipping the inspections, primarily so we could stay on schedule. I did not want to be delayed again. So Walter and I finished loading the ship and sneaked past the control tower. Our shuttle was in prime enough condition anyway, It would survive. It always had before. I certainly was kicking myself these days. Now, because of my folly, because of my desire to save time by cutting corners, here I was tramping through hell; hot, sweaty, hungry and thirsty. Thirsty above all else. And because of my depraved nearly lunatic want for what is a commodity in any other part of the galaxy, my companion was now dead. I decided that if I ever reached the city, I would turn myself in. That would be the honorable thing to do. When was the last time I had done anything honorable, I wondered. I couldn't remember. My throat burned. I hated this planet with every thing I had in me. I hated it.
My glum thoughts were interrupted as I topped yet another dune and saw what waited on the other side.
Water!
Not just water! A lake! An ocean! With breakers and salty air and seagulls and those little crabs that burrow into the dirt and pinch your toes…! I ran, sloshing thought the ankle deep sand, my arms flailing about my head.
I tripped.
I fell on my face.
I rose and ran on.
Water!
Water!
I could have a drink!
It was probably salt water. It would probably kill me.
I didn't care.
The sand grew moist and cool between my toes. Beach sand! Refreshing ocean air filled my nostrils, rejuvenating me. I scattered a flock of birds as I splashed into the choppy surf. A wave broke above my head, caught me and dragged me under. Salty water stung my eyes as I was rolled along the bottom. I burst to the surface sputtering for my breath, and was captured by another crest.
And I landed with a thump, face first in the dirt. I pushed myself up and spat sand out of my mouth, looking about in confusion.
There was no water.
No lake.
No seagulls or little crabs. Just dry rolling sandy nothing. Everywhere. It had been a mirage. I had imagined it all. Yet it had seemed so real. So wet. So bracing. And yet a mirage.
I pushed myself to my feet, hating myself all the while. I had wasted all that energy chasing something that was not there. Now I was even more thirsty and hungry and tired. And now I was angry too. Angry with myself for being a backstabbing fool. Angry at my shuttle for being a piece of worthless junk. Angry at this entire planet for being so arid and lifeless. I kicked the sand, and now even more hungry thirsty and downtrodden in spirit, moved on.
I saw water twice more that afternoon. Both times I reacted in exactly the same manner, stumbling like a half crazed child into the imaginary surf, splashing the illusionary water, leaping about like the moron that I am only to fall on my face in the sand. Then I would sit there, shouting at the God I no longer believed in, knowing I had been tricked again. I imagined that I was being punished for my sins. That the penalty reserved for murderers in the desert was to be driven completely insane from thirst and hunger. That Walter's death would be avenged before I ever had a chance to turn myself in. And on and on I would plod, with less and less hope.
My throat burned like a furnace. My hollow stomach growled for something to fill it. Every muscle in my body throbbed like an enormous toothache. My eyes ached from the flaming sun that never seemed to move from its favorite position directly in front of my face. I wished I was dead. I no longer had the physical strength or the willpower to walk, so I half crawled half dragged myself up a towering dune which I had unconsciously decided would be my last.
After an eternity I reached the top and collapsed, sprawling. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a reflection and lifted my head with the last ounce of strength I possessed. There, ahead of me, the desert ended, and at its edge lay a giant city, with highways and skyscrapers and shining silver windows. The city I had seen from the sky. The city I had been seeking all this time.
I lay staring at the spectacle before me. The scene before me shimmered and gleamed, distorted by the heat reflecting from the sand. I stared at it for several moments, then resignedly closed my eyes. It was another mirage. I knew it. I could tell. Just a mirage. I would not get excited. I would not run. I would not frolic. I would not leap about wildly with glee. I knew better this time. I was after all, getting what I deserved.
Bio:I am nineteen and I live in the general vicinity of Grand rapids MI. I began writing in the eight grade as a way to kill time during study hall, and as a result discovered my only talent, mediocre though it may be. I have not stopped writing since. I do not see myself stopping any time in the foreseeable future.
E-mail:fathomspeed@prodigy.net
URL:
Visit Aphelion's Lettercolumn and voice your opinion of this story. Both the writer and I would love to read your feedback.
Return to the Aphelion main page.