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Dark DaysChapter 1 free porn video
The youth walked along the ridge, stopping to wipe his brow. It was mid-day, but already the golden rings of the gas giant around which his world revolved were beginning to rise in the east. He scanned the ridge looking for distinctive flame-red leaves. With his walking stick he probed one of the shrubs, parted the stems and retrieved an oblong, orange fruit.
"What art thou doing?" a voice called to him.
"Don't startle me," he replied. "This is dangerous work." He turned to see a young woman approaching.
From the white robe she wore, he recognized her as a member of the Galactics. Their compound was in the next valley from the one that held his village. He had never seen one of them up close.
"I'm sorry to disturb the," she said and watched him. "What art thou doing?"
"I'm harvesting fire-bush fruit," he replied.
"How dost thou put thy hand into one without getting stung?"
"Because I know what I'm doing." He regarded her. She appeared to be two years younger than he -- about sixteen standards. Her strawberry-blond hair was long and held back by two thin braids from above her temples. She had grey-green eyes, pale skin and freckles on either side of her nose. "What's your name?"
"I'm Harrah," she replied. "How dost thou call thyself?"
"I'm Jonas. What's with the thees, thines and thous?"
"We use the formal only to address our prophet. For all others we use the informal."
"Formal? Informal?"
"Dost thou not know thine own language? Thou is the informal, used among peers. The other form..."
"Do you mean, you?"
She nodded. "Yes. That form we use only when addressing the prophet."
"I see..."
"Thou dost not use the informal?"
"We use only the you form. It's simpler and there's less to remember."
"May I accompany thee?"
"Suit yourself -- but keep far away from the fire-bush. The spines are dangerous. They carry a venom that's only a deterrent to this world's native animals -- but is lethal to humans."
"I know about the dangers of fire- bush."
Jonas stopped some metres from another bush. "Now -- stay back and don't startle me." He probed the plant with his staff, using it to lift branches from an orange berry. Gingerly he reached in, grasped the fruit, plucked it and dropped it into a canvas pouch he wore slung over his shoulder.
"For what dost thou use the fire- bush fruit?" she asked.
Jonas pointed to the east. "The dark days are coming."
"Dark days?"
"That's what we call the days in which our mother planet blocks the sun. During dark days we have our festival. We use the fire-bush fruit to make the nectar."
"Dost thou believe that our Lord must be feted before returning the sun?"
He chortled. "Of course not. It's merely an excuse to have a party. What do you do during the dark days?"
"Those days are our most solemn -- we fast and pray."
Jonas approached a rise. Before him was a shallow basin-like depression lined with fire-bush plants. He headed toward them.
"Harrah -- you'd better stay back. When the fire-bush grows in clumps like this, there are likely to be shoots too small to see but they'll jab you nonetheless." He regarded her feet. "I'd feel much better if you were wearing hard boots like mine and not sandals."
She stood, watching him with her hands held at her waist. Jonas busied himself picking the berries. He worked his way toward the opposite side of the depression.
Harrah strolled around the basin, watching him work. She let out a shriek.
"Harrah! What happened?"
She grasped her foot. "Something stung me."
Jonas rushed to her side and regarded a short cut on the side of her foot. He looked down and saw a small, red shoot with a single spine pointing skyward.
"You stepped on a shoot. Run, Harrah! Run!"
"Which way?"
"Toward the village -- this way. Run as fast as you can for as long as you can!"
"Jonas!" she cried as the headed toward his village. "Am I going to die?"
"We must get you to Elias. He knows how to treat a fire-bush sting." Harrah began to fall behind. "Run, Harrah! Before the poison can do its work."
"Who is Elias?" she shouted.
"He's the village apothecary ... and I'm his apprentice. Keep running, Harrah!"
Harrah was panting. She doubled her effort and then stumbled. "I can't feel my feet!" she cried.
Jonas circled back to her, picked her up and carried her. "Hang on, Harrah!" Panting, Jonas carried her down the hill and toward the fields surrounding his village. Her arms fell limp and her face froze, her lips open and her tongue protruding.
He flung her body over his shoulder and carried her toward Elias's house.
"Elias!" he shouted "Elias!" He kicked the door.
An old man with a grey beard came to the door. "Jonas ... what have we here?"
"She approached me on the ridge where I was gathering fruit for the nectar," Jonas replied. "She stepped on a fire-bush shoot."
"Bring her around to the workshop."
Jonas carried the limp girl to the back of the building and waited under a sign bearing a measuring glass and a mortar and pestle. Elias opened the Dutch door and cleared a table. "Lay her here..." He felt the girl's pulse and held a glass under her nose. "I'll get the pump going, Jonas -- if she stops breathing, perform mouth-to-mouth."
Jonas nodded. He watched Harrah's ribs move beneath her lightweight robe. Then, she wheezed and was still.
He pinched closed her nose, pried open her mouth and began blowing into it.
"Gently, Jonas," Elias said as he piled dark brown bricks onto his workshop fire. Then he positioned the end of a cylinder into the coals and worked a bellows. "Breath for her, Jonas," Elias coached. "It'll be a bit longer before the Stirling engine is warmed up enough."
Jonas looked up from Harrah's face and watched as Elias attempted to start the engine. He grabbed a flywheel and gave it a push. "Come on you blasted thing," he muttered.
The flywheel began turning, slowly and unevenly at first; then it accelerated. Once it had reached its operating speed, Elias engaged a clutch connecting it to a vacuum pump.
"Once we have a head of vacuum we'll put her in the chamber," the old man said. "In the meantime, keep breathing for her."
Elias watched a gauge on the vacuum reservoir. "All right, Jonas. Bring her over here."
Jonas picked the limp form from the table and slid her into a long, slim barrel. Elias eased her head through a large opening in the cover and clamped it onto the chamber. With a hand bulb he inflated a ring around her neck and positioned a cushion under her head.
Harrah's lips were beginning to turn blue. "Give her more mouth-to-mouth while I get this thing started."
Jonas resumed blowing into Harrah's mouth. Elias connected a thick hose from the chamber to a regulator and another to the vacuum pump. He opened a valve and air in the chamber hissed through the hose.
At the same time, Harrah drew in a deep breath. The regulator clicked and air from the room hissed into an inlet. Harrah exhaled; then the cycle repeated itself.
Elias nodded. "Good. The lung will keep hers ventilated."
Jonas regarded Harrah's face. Her glazed eyes stared, unfocused at the ceiling. He attempted to stroke closed her eyelids but they popped open again.
"Will she live?" Jonas asked.
"It's up to her, now. The only hope for a fire-bush victim is to support her while her body throws off the toxin."
"In other words -- by rights she should be dead by now."
"Without treatment she would be. Whether that's by right or by wrong isn't a judgment I'd care to make." Elias regarded the girl. "She's a Galactic. I wonder what she was doing outside her compound."
"I've never seen any of them," Jonas replied. "How did they get here?"
"They came here the same way we did, Jonas -- on the same starship."
"But why? They keep to themselves -- they don't even trade with us."
"What coin would they have to exchange for our goods?" Elias asked.
"I don't know -- maybe sermons for bread?"
"It would be a lop-sided exchange. I do wonder what they do when one of them requires medicine or surgery. Have a seat, Jonas. Tending this girl will be a full- time occupation for the next day or two."
"Her name is Harrah."
"Harrah..." Elias brought a workbench stool near the chamber. "As we prepared for the expedition to this world, we realized we didn't have enough resources for success."
"Resources?"
"Money, Jonas. It's what made human commerce run on Earth ... probably still does. When the existence of life outside Earth was first irrefutably proved, it sent a shockwave through all the major religions there. The old, Earth-centric and solar-centric views no longer held water. Along came a prophet with a novel idea -- Earth's solar system is not the theological center. The throne of God resides in the center of the galaxy. Thus was formed the Galactic cult ... which over years emerged as a major religion.
"Once we learned of a hospitable planet we could reach with our technology, and after only a couple years of travel -- taking advantage of relativistic phenomona -- there were two populations eager to travel here." Elias spread his arms. "One group was the founders of this colony. Our goal was to build a new society, free from the pollution, the wars, the crowding and the petty squabbles of Earth society."
"And the other were the Galactics?"
"That's right, Jonas. Their rationale for leaving was really quite simple ... this planet is about fifteen light-years closer to the center of the galaxy than Earth."
"Fifteen light-years closer to God," Jonas mused.
"Or, would be if there were such a one. All religions are a bunch of damned nonsense."
Elias stood and stepped to a workbench. He returned with a small bowl and a dropper. "This is normal saline. Drop some into her eyes from time to time so they won't dry out." The old man pressed his fingers to her temple. "Her pulse is good and strong. The heart is the last to succumb."
"And if it succumbs?"
"Then she is lost."
Jonas felt her temple and then held his finger under her nose. "Long, deep breaths."
"It's the machine, not her. Jonas -- I'm going to get some shut-eye. I'll relieve you after dinner. One of us should be with her at all times."
"Is there anything I should do?"
"Just keep her eyes moist and keep checking her pulse. If it changes, call me."
"What can we do if it does?"
Elias shook his head. "Not much. And, keep the fire going. If the engine stalls, call me and then start mouth-to-mouth on her."
Jonas sat, listening to the quiet clacking of the Stirling engine, the clicking of the vacuum regulator and the hissing of air in the hoses. He piled more fuel bricks around the engine's cylinder and dropped saline into Harrah's eyes.
The sun had set and their world's mother planet was now fully up and filling the sky. Elias stepped into the workshop and handed Jonas a plate of bean stew.
"How is she doing?" the old man asked.
"No change. It's hard to believe one jab can have this effect."
"The venom is a protein that's quite similar to a DNA molecule. Once in the human body it behaves much like a virus. And, if she does survive -- she'll be immune for life from the effects of the poison."
"Why not develop a vaccine against it?" Jonas asked.
"We've tried, but we don't have the appropriate vectors for growing it."
Jonas dropped more saline into Harrah's eyes. "I wonder what terrors are going through her mind right now."
"Are you recalling your ordeal?" Elias asked.
"I remember waking up and finding myself in this very chamber," the youth replied. "I still remember the horrible, horrible dreams I had."
"Yes -- the fire bush anointed you to be my acolyte. You're the only one in the village who can harvest the fruits..."
" ... because if I'm jabbed, the only effect is a painful sting," the boy replied. "I understand the paralysis -- but why the dreams?"
"When cut off from sensual stimulation the human brain is like an engine without a load. It races itself to pieces."
A rap sounded on the workshop door and a village man poked his head in. "Elias?"
"Come in, Emil."
The man handed Elias the canvas sack Jonas had carried. "I found this halfway down the ridge. It looks like fruit for nectar."
"That's my pouch," Jonas interjected. "I must've dropped it when..."
Elias stopped Jonas by holding up his hand. "Thank you, Emil. Indeed, I must start brewing the nectar." The old man held the door and gestured Emil out. He glanced toward the artificial lung. "I don't think there's any need to advertise her presence here."
"Won't she be missed at her compound?"
"I'm sure she will be. If any Galactics come calling and looking for her, we'll explain what happened. They're a pretty unreasonable bunch. If they knew she was here, I'll bet they'd insist on taking her home."
"Before recovering from the toxin?" Jonas asked. Elias nodded. "Then it's in her best interest to keep it quiet."
"Exactly, my boy. Now, why don't you get some rest? You can relieve me at breakfast."
Jonas stepped into the workshop. Elias sat snoozing in a chair.
He tapped the old man's shoulder. "Elias?" Elias awoke with a start. "How is Harrah doing?"
"About the same. It's been three days..."
Jonas began stacking more fuel bricks onto the fire to keep the Stirling engine running. "Go to bed, Elias," the boy said. "I'll watch her."
Elias hoisted himself out of the chair and rubbed his back. "I'm getting too old for this sort of thing..." He headed toward the front of the house.
Jonas picked up the bowl of saline and dropped some into Harrah's eyes. She blinked. Her eyes began to move -- uncoordinated at first but they focused on him. Her lips moved, and she made soft, squeaking sounds.
"Elias!" Jonas shouted. "Elias! She's awake!"
Elias rushed back into the workshop and put his hand on Jonas's shoulder. "Harrah, dear," he said. "You're recovering from the fire bush poison. Don't panic -- it'll be a while before you'll be able to speak or move. Do you understand? If you do, blink twice."
Jonas watched as she closed her eyes and opened them, then closed them again.
"Good ... good girl, Harrah. Be patient. It's dawn now -- you'll be feeling better by nightfall. In the meantime, close your eyes and try to sleep."
Elias stepped toward his workbench and beckoned to Jonas. "I must busy myself preparing the nectar for dark days," he said. "You minister to the girl. By now she'll need nothing but some observation."
Stevie
- 02.06.2020
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