Chapter 468

The Prison Planet

...”I’m a prisoner, Jas. I’ll never be anything else.”

“Tell me anyway, darnit.”

Abruptly, he got up, grabbed his weapons and headed out the door. “Gotta go pee.”

He didn’t notice the grin on her face.

When Morales came back in, Jasmine was ready for him, but not with further comments along the same line. Rather, “Okay, I’m ready to start learning how to debark the logs, and you can also show me how to flatten them.”

“Okay, if you really want to.”

“I do. It’s time for me to learn.”

Peeling the bark wasn’t rocket science – just work. “Why are we doing this, anyway?” she later questioned while standing to stretch her back.

“Well, you need to remember that all I know about such things is what I’ve read on the computer or from the paperwork the General’s people gave me.”

“And?”

“Peeling the bark off is supposed to prevent moisture from collecting under the bark which would, in turn, cause the logs to rot much faster.”

“Hmmm,” she said as she returned to her work, “I guess that does make sense. And, like you said earlier, we can use the bark in place of kindling when starting our fires.” Then nodding to indicate his small pile of tinder, “Looks like you don’t have a tremendous amount of tinder, but I guess you don’t use much. I used a piece of burning wood from the cook fire to start the oven fire, and I’ve seen you start a fire only a couple of times since I arrived here. With it so cold, we never let the fire burn out.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I used tinder a good bit during the summer, because I usually let the cook fire go out when I didn’t need it any longer. No use adding heat to the cave unless I had to, but with the winter, it just makes sense to keep some fire going all the time. I was really lucky to find this cave, and with the long entranceway, we don’t lose much of our warmth when we open the door. As far as the bark goes, waste not; want not,” he said yet again. “Besides, when the bark pile gets too big, I usually throw some on the fire. Beats having to take it outside to dispose of it. And since I don’t have a wheelbarrow, it would really be a hassle to take all this out,” he said as he motioned to the bark accumulating at their feet. “Sweeping it into a pile is easy, but taking it outside a bucketful at a time would be a bitch.”

With a smile, he looked over at her, “One of these days I’m going to try building a wheelbarrow – something that I think will really come in handy. My laptop has pictures of primitive wheelbarrows with wooden wheels, and I think I’ll be able to build my own crude wheelbarrow.

“I’ve found what I’ve begun calling ironwood trees. The wood is a gold-plated bitch to work with, but it’s far stronger and harder than I thought wood could ever be. It should make a great axle for my future wheelbarrow.”

“You’ve never done any of this before?” she asked, wondering, despite having read his file in detail.

“Absolutely not. As I said, been a city boy all my life, although I have worked some in construction, but ... out here, it’s either learn quickly or die. I was too lazy, plus more interested in being like the guys I ran with to pay much attention when I was in school. If I had it to do over again, though...”

After several seconds of silence, he sighed and went on, “But I have the information the General sent, and my laptop has more information on it than I’ll probably ever manage to read. I’ve recently found some kind of learning program on it. Something like a GED program, I suppose, although I did graduate from high school – with a damn C average. I haven’t had the time to discover much about the program. Hopefully, it’s geared to teach me things that will be of help here, and maybe even other things as well. As I heard someone say on TV, knowledge for the sake of knowledge. It didn’t make a lot of sense then, but it certainly does now.”

Morales had finished stripping the bark from the two smaller diameter logs that he planned to use as sills. Jasmine paid close attention as he made cross swipes with the saw all along the top side of the logs. Then with the adze, he cut lengthways down each log, chipping off the horizontal cuts along the topside. After finishing, he took the drawshave and quickly smoothed and flattened the surfaces. By now, he had enough practice that the process went quickly, and, even though he didn’t mention it, the result was astonishingly uniform, almost as if it had been done by machinery.

“I only had to flatten the top side and just a short section of the bottom side on the ends where the sills will rest on the foundation. I’m going out to push the flooring aside enough so I can put the sills in place,” he finished as he strapped on his weapons.

As Jasmine held the door for him, he shouldered one of the sills and went on out. She couldn’t lift the other sill to her shoulder, but she dragged it on through the door so he wouldn’t have to bother coming back inside to get it. Closing the door, she put lunch on to cook before going back to her debarking.

When Morales had both sills by the future outhouse, while still grumbling about his being stupid, he dragged the floor logs out of the way, put the sills in place, returned the floor logs to their correct positions, then eventually managed to get everything level again.

Standing on the floor of the outhouse, he grinned. Do I dare cut out two holes? It would take a really, really close relationship to sit side by side out here in the mornings. His grin got bigger when he thought, I should cut the holes just to see the look on her face. He had planned to make a shelf-like seat all the way across the outhouse. I can put just one hole in the seat, but dammit, if she continues her bluff, I’m going to put in two holes, instead. And I am going to put in a seat. I refuse to squat over a hole in the floor to take a shit.

After pretending to sit to get an idea how far from the back wall the slot should be, he marked and cut out one long hole that would stretch under where the seat(s) would be. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees that, he thought as he stepped back to look.

Chuckling, he returned to the cave.

“Get the sills in?” she asked as she dumped sliced potatoes into the skillet.

“Yeah,” he returned as he began flattening another log, “but instead of two holes in the floor, I cut one long one under where the seats will be. I’ll saw out a wide board or two for the seats and cut the holes in it.” He tried to stress the plural without overemphasizing it too much.

Without hesitation, “Sounds good,” she returned straight-faced. “Not that I know anything about building outhouses,” she qualified with a giggle that made him glance at her. “You hungry?” she asked with a smirk, making him wonder, yet again.

Damn. She didn’t even blink. “Starved,” he returned from his knees as he continued with the flattening of the logs.

“Might as well get washed up, then. Lunch is almost ready.”

A few minutes later as he washed his hands, Morales looked over at Jasmine. She sometimes caught her lower lip in her teeth as she concentrated, and since he doubted what she was doing required any deep thought, he wondered just what needed such deep concentration. As she reached to take down another skillet, her breasts moved a bit under her shirt. Damn, I would like to see her in a tight top and a short skirt. Those few glances I’ve managed while she’s changing clothes or bathing, haven’t given me a chance to really see her. I wonder if her seeming so beautiful is because I haven’t been around a woman for so long. Then after a second, Hell, he chastised himself, this woman is beautiful, even with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup, and her body hidden under those baggy fatigues. I don’t dare stare at her long enough to really focus on her when she’s changing, but I sure as hell want to. Realizing what was happening, he tried to shift his mind to something else. Don’t get an erection, you idiot. She knows you’re a lifer. Don’t make her wonder if you’re some kind of sex maniac too.

Quickly sitting by the fire, he leaned forward to hide his growing erection, having no idea that his reddening face had given him away. Jasmine, barely able to keep her eyes away from the front of his fatigue pants, put the wolves’ food out, handed Morales his coffee and food, then sat beside him with hers. “It feels good to sit,” she said with a sigh.

Morales blew on the coffee, then took a sip of the near boiling liquid, put the cup down and eventually caught her eye. “Jas, you don’t have to do any of this, you know. You came here to carry out your research...”

“Yes, I do,” she argued. “I have to have the ... feel of this place, this ... planet. It will come through in my dissertation. Darnit, I want that doctorate. I’ve been treated like a gofer long enough. I’ve fetched coffee, soft drinks, booze, food, snacks and equipment, took notes, run personal errands, done everything but wipe their asses, and even, on occasion, got to do some meaningful research. I will present a dissertation worthy of my doctorate. I have plenty of time and I have some very meaningful research already completed. Maybe I’ll have even more after we complete our exploration into the new area as well as that of the main cave. Baby,” she said, “I found some things that I didn’t let the others know about, and I think those things might be tied to...”

She abruptly cut off the comment when she remembered that the General and his people might at some point listen to her conversation. But Morales hadn’t heard anything after she had called him “Baby.”

He took a breath, then scolded himself mentally. Probably just a slip of the tongue. She just said it without thinking. It doesn’t mean anything. Can’t. I’m a fucking prisoner, but I wish... Mentally shaking himself, his thoughts went on. Get that off your mind. She’ll be with you for awhile, then when she has all the material she needs for her doctorate, she’ll be gone forever – forever for you being as long as you manage to survive on this planet, that is.

Jasmine seemed to glance casually at Morales’ face as she brought a forkful of potatoes to her mouth, but the glance wasn’t casual at all. She had been very intently watching for his reaction to her having called him “Baby”, and a smile touched her face at what she saw outlined on his.

The Retreat

Jeff sat in the General’s office, both having watched a number of highlight videos from 2214 that the Sergeant had sent to Whitworth.

“So, what do you think?” the General asked after he got his cigar going.

“About what?” Jeff returned just to tease Whitworth.

“You know damn well what – several whats for that matter. Let’s start with why those two blocked the cameras from going with them through the crack in the ice wall.”

“Well,” Jeff remarked as he refilled their coffee cups again before returning to his seat, “it seems reasonable to assume that they found something past the crack, something they didn’t want anyone else to see, and ... they seem to think it’s important. And before you ask, the next logical step would be to wonder what would an anthropologist think was important? And why would that same scientist want whatever they discovered to remain secret? So, I have a question for you. What would normally happen if a lone anthropologist discovers something on 2214?”

“Well,” Whitworth responded while dragging out the word, “if he/she thought that whatever she discovered was of consequence, she might well report it to her peers and a team would...” After breaking off, he grinned at his Colonel. “Hmmm. My little lady scientist is working on her doctorate. Might be that she has discovered something that will help her finish her work.”

“You just mentioned a team,” Jeff said. “What would the standard procedure be if you sent back an archaeological team to work on a discovery in the ice cave?”

The General pulled his feet from the desk and sat full upright. “Well, I’ll be damned. Seems like she’s trying to protect him, or else gather all the evidence she needs for full credit before she turns the find in. But somehow, I doubt that. It doesn’t seem to fit her personality. Back to your question. The first thing a team of physical archeologists would concern themselves with, I suppose, would be protecting the area – protecting the find. They do everything slowly and logically so as to not disturb or destroy anything. Hmmm. They damn sure wouldn’t want a prisoner screwing around with something they were investigating, and since they would have to repeatedly move through the area where he lives, and he uses part of the ice cave to store his meat and vegetables, he would have to go – period.”

“Exactly. And there’s a good chance she’s trying to preserve Morales’ home while examining the new area herself,” Jeff finished for the General.

Whitworth tapped the ash off his cigar into an ashtray before responding. “Well, it seems obvious that she doesn’t want him fucked with. Looks like she might well have put him first even over her discovery – if our assumptions are correct, that is.” The General took another pull on his cigar before continuing, “I think my lady scientist has feelings for our prisoner. Feelings that could be strong enough to make her try to protect him from the consequences of her reporting a discovery, or from that discovery coming to light. Might be interesting to see just how far she’s willing to go with this. If this is going to be part of her doctoral dissertation, she’s going to have to prove her thesis. How is she going to do that without reporting her find, and consequently bringing in a team of other anthropologists to verify her findings? Hmmm,” he chortled, “I knew I was right by allowing her to go to 2214.” Then as he sat back and put his feet up again, “Love or career? Which will she choose?”