TICEES (56 page)

Chelan winced. Something hurt. She took a deeper breath, and this time her bruised and broken ribs protested violently. She closed her eyes against the pain and tried to get her breath without doing further damage.

She lay still for a long time before she even dared to open her eyes again. She noted by the lighting that she had slept, but she knew not whether it was morning or evening. She looked up, realizing then that what she had thought was a ceiling was actually solid rock. She squinted, her bewilderment mounting.

Chelan turned her head slowly; her neck was painfully stiff, but it responded. She could see that she was on an incline, and about three meters up the slope from her she could see a rock-ice interface. She closed her eyes momentarily, concentrating on what her skin was telling her, and for the first time, she noticed that the air was relatively warm.

Chelan blinked several times to clear her vision. She was in a rather sizable tunnel, the ice above her to her right indicating an opening to the surface, but the surface to what and where was the big question. Chelan’s mind suddenly balked at the confusion surrounding all the unknowns. Attempting to focus, she tried to remember what had gone before.

With time, the pieces began to emerge from the tenebrous depths of her mind. She remembered being airborne for a long time and then being slammed down hard. She remembered a loud crack, and she winced. She had thought at the time it was her own back, but with the weight of the ice and snow on top of her, maybe it had been the surface that had broken, and she prayed that she was right.

Chelan looked up again, noticing that the light was getting visibly stronger. She wondered how long she had been lying here, but she knew that she could never hope to ascertain that. Ever so slowly, she rolled her head so she could look to her left. She could see that the tunnel widened out and that more blue light was filtering in from another location. Everything downslope appeared to be solid rock, while everything upslope was solid ice.

Chelan took in as deep a breath as she could manage and summoned all her courage. It was time to assess her injuries. Slowly, she worked through her fingers and toes, relieved at the fact that they functioned, although even the tiniest of motions evoked pain. However, the fact that they moved and registered discomfort dispelled her biggest fear, the health of her spine. But she knew that not all was well, especially with her fingers. Though they moved, she could deduce that they were severely swollen, definitely sprained, and some possibly broken.

Chelan then began to evaluate each arm and each leg. Everything felt arthritic and inflamed, and when she tried to bend her knees she realized just how extensive her injuries were. Her modest motions caused every nerve to erupt, sending sharp and severe pain radiating throughout the swollen joints. She had no choice but to cease all motion. Tears came to her eyes, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out against her damaged ribs.

Chelan whimpered; the small amount of motion she had just forced exerted her weakened body to its limit. She rested while the pain ebbed, and then she dared to raise her hands. Her wrists were grotesquely swollen, and it hurt to squeeze her fingers together. She could detect no bone displacements, but she knew the damage was far from superficial.

She draped her arms gingerly over her chest, allowing her hands to hang limply. She tried to roll to her side, but the simple attempt was too harrowing, and she lay back, exhausted. She caught her breath while she struggled to think. In a way, she had fared okay. After all, she wasn’t dead. So far, it appeared that only small bones were broken, but the final judgment was still to come. She knew that her entire body was beaten to a pulp, and all her flesh felt like raw jelly. She was also aware that it was possible that she did not know the worst yet, namely whether or not she had internal injuries.

The next thing she needed to do was to determine the full extent of the damage to her legs. From what she could see, they looked fine, but whether they would sustain her weight or not was quite another matter. She already knew that her knees were a mess, and just what condition her ankles were in remained to be seen. She could only assume that all her long bones were intact, judging by the straightness of her legs and the fact that she could wiggle her toes, but that didn’t mean the bones were undamaged.

Chelan closed her eyes and licked her dry and cracked lips. Her legs could wait. What she needed most was water, and she could tell that she was becoming dehydrated. Suddenly, a voracious thirst consumed her, and it became harshly obvious that she had been here a while.

Chelan looked up at the ice and at the trickles of water slipping lazily past her on their journey downward. She smiled weakly, knowing at least that she would not die from lack of fluids. She turned her head slowly. Then she cringed at the thought of getting to the moisture. Her last experience with attempting to roll was anything but pleasant, but she wouldn’t heal, let alone survive, if she didn’t at least try. She closed her eyes and bolstered herself against the onslaught of pain that was about to come. She curled ever so slightly to her right, just enough for her tongue to taste the small rivulets of lifesaving liquid meandering past her. Then she began the long and arduous task of replenishing her depleted body reserves, but the act itself proved to be more than her weakened body could endure. Groaning in agony, she tried to relax, her broken ribs forcing the air from her lungs. Her eyes watered, but she dared not cry. Struggling to remain calm, she finally managed to let all her muscles go lax as much as possible. Then, with time and all-consuming exhaustion, she slipped back into a deep sleep.

*****

Her next encounter with consciousness was the following day, though she had no idea that she had already spent two Iceanean days within the cavern as her body and mind began the slow process of mending. She opened her eyes, squinting against very bright light, and she realized that it was midday. She also knew that drinking was her most immediate concern. Steeling herself, she set about the chore of lapping up the moisture. Once she had endured the agony for as long as she could, she relaxed and took several restrained and painful breaths.

Her next thought was food. Her battered body needed energy, and she began the laborious process of fumbling through her shroud, looking for the concentrate she had packed. Time dragged on as she forced sprained and cracked fingers to sort through the voluminous material that concealed the life-supporting supplement. As evening came, she was rewarded, but her energy was spent, and she could not eat. Evening turned into night, and Chelan slept again.

*****

Chelan awoke on her fourth day in the cavern faced with yet another dilemma. Pressure wounds were opening on her shoulder blades and buttocks, and she knew it was imperative that she get off the damaged flesh. Her work for the day consisted of the grueling task of rolling onto her side and facing downslope while bracing herself so that she did not tumble. She ate only a tiny amount of the concentrate, aware that her stomach could mount a protest against the food, and convulsions were the last thing her damaged body needed to endure.

Soon thereafter, Chelan realized that she had to get out of her uniform, and it was crucial that she get cleaned up. The uniform had been her savior to begin with, insulating her from the cold and protecting her in general. But now it was her enemy. She was weak, and she had open wounds. Though her urine output was minimal due to her dehydration, she was keenly aware that her body excretions would fatally infect her. Now her bid to move down the cavern and away from the ice was paramount to her survival. She needed warmth, and she needed sanitation.

Chelan’s movements were distressingly slow, and minute acts were agonizing and trying. She had to calculate every maneuver precisely, for she could ill afford risking any further injuries through blunders. She rested often, receding in and out of uneasy sleep. She had to be constantly aware of her positioning, her balance critical to preventing herself from rolling down the rocky incline. After many hours, darkness was upon her, and she finally gave in once again to exhaustion.

*****

When she awoke the next time, the light was very dim, and she did not know if it was early morning or the next evening. Either way, it did not matter. Her whole concept of time had been destroyed long ago. For her, minutes were measured by her endurance and her ability to cope rather than being dictated by the Iceanean sun.

Hours passed, and as she inched along she could feel the air getting warmer. Finally, she rolled onto her raw back to survey her surroundings. Slowly, a small smile crept across her lips. She was thunderstruck by the beauty that surrounded her. “My god,” she mumbled. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

The cavern was massive, and the ceiling was an intricate weaving of rock and ice interlocked as if created by large, loving hands crocheting a beautiful piece of fine lace. Huge columns and arches of solution-etched rock appeared to provide the main support for the ceiling area. The fine white mineral was also the main constituent of the walls and floor.

Chelan continued to look around. “Calcite,” she whispered out loud. “Beautiful calcite.” She felt almost as though she had been deposited within the depths of the wondrous Carlsbad Caverns. Exquisite cave draperies hung from the ceiling near the walls, some up to thirty meters long. There, the white undulating fabric of fine calcite was decorated with serrated edges that looked like delicately applied fringes.

The center of the lacy ceiling was composed mostly of thick, blue ice. Its nearly transparent presence and its odd optical properties allowed vast amounts of the Iceanean sunlight down into the cavern, illuminating the awe-inspiring beauty. Everywhere Chelan looked, it was as though the cave had been meticulously and caringly hung with Christmas ornaments, and her eyes grew large.

Near the edges of the almost circular cavern, the ceiling dropped, and with the lower elevation it became progressively composed more of rock rather than ice. There, conical stalactites hung like so many icicles on a home’s eaves. Most of them were the white of pure calcite, but in one area they were stained in brilliant colors of yellow, tan, red, and orange, contaminated beautifully with the iron that was present in the host rock.

Drips of water leapt lazily off the stalactites and down to the cave floor, forming spectacular stalagmites that appeared to reach up to the nourishing parents above them. Closer to the cavern walls, some of the stalagmites and stalactites joined, forming the elegant columns that would have rivaled the beauty of Greek and Roman architecture.

Chelan closed her eyes momentarily, listening to the sounds of the cavern, the trickles of water and the echoes of fine splashing. This was a spelunker’s dream.

She then craned her neck as far as she dared and looked down the ever-flattening slope. Her eyes followed the rivulets of water as they ambled drowsily to their final resting spot: a large pond of crystal blue water. Chelan gasped. There was her supply of water and her source of cleansing moisture. Excitement coursed through her. She had to reach it, and the sooner the better.

Chelan began edging herself toward the pool where an eerie and enticing mist hung protectively over it. Her journey was slow and tedious, yet she took the time to avoid damaging the fragile cave beauty that abounded on the floor. At times she wanted to stop and savor the sights, but she knew that privilege could wait. Her wounds were her first priority, and she clenched her teeth against her physical misery as she slithered along the damp floor.

After what seemed to be an eternity, she reached her destination. She collapsed by the pool’s edge in utter exhaustion. She took several tortuous breaths, ignoring her painful ribs, and then she closed her eyes, focusing. The air seemed warm and fresh, and she wondered if the water was warm also, possibly heated by the planet’s massive internal engine, Iceanea’s lifeblood. But Chelan was too fatigued to test it, and she fell asleep before even trying the pool’s temperature.

Chelan slept long and hard and awoke late the next day. Right away, she could feel the burn of her compromised flesh. And to make matters worse, she had a fever and felt ill. It was the infection she feared, and now time was against her. As quickly as she could manage, she began stripping away her shroud and uniform. Critical moments passed, and finally she lay on her stomach, naked. She gasped for air, and her eyes watered from the pain of her frantic motions. She no longer cared what the temperature of the water was. She needed to cleanse her wounds, and she pushed herself over, splashing into the pool. The searing sting of her ulcerations nearly shocked the breath from her.

Forcing battered limbs to work, she struggled to pull herself to the rock ledge where she laid her head. Once still, she wept while she waited patiently for her vanquished body to relax and for the agony to dissipate. Chelan closed her eyes, and as her discomfort lessened, she began to languish in the pool’s healing warmth, her body suspended from the torment of gravitational pressure. Then she noticed the extreme buoyancy, and she knew that the mineral content of the water was high. She smiled wryly. “Well, now we’ll see if all those health spa pushers really have anything to crow about,” she mused out loud.

As the remaining day began to meld into evening, Chelan struggled out of the pool and lay panting on the edge. Her joints screamed out in protest from her exertion, but she could not spend forever in the healing water. She had more to attend to. Groping for her uniform, she shoved it into the pool and watched it soak while she caught her breath. Next, she fumbled through her shroud, extracting her food and the lazguns, setting them to the side and out of the way of the water. Still on her stomach, she began the grueling task of rinsing the cloths, her damaged fingers and hands laboring torturously.

Chelan watched as the soil from her uniform quickly dissipated and disappeared down into the depths of the shimmering pool. It was then that she realized that the pond probably had an extensive underground network, nurtured by the cavern waters and cleansing itself at some point far from the light of day and the eyes of man.