Walking to the Stars (8 page)

Harold barked from the back verandah, and Samuel could hear the banging and thudding of boot cleaning and removal, then the kitchen was full of the sharp smell of unwashed male, and Talgerit slapped Samuel's back and bent over the fire.

"How's the baby?” Samuel asked as Nick walked into the room, a chunk of meat in his hands.

"Baby is just perfect, feeding well, and Girdagan is recovering smoothly,” Nick said, as he put the bundle of cloth-wrapped meat on the draining board. “Ed sent us some roo. Think I'll cook it up with some parsnips and potatoes, and some dried corn. Want a meal, Talgerit?"

"Sounds good,” Talgerit said. “But I can't stay, I just came to get the car."

"I fixed it a bit for you,” Samuel said. “Hope you don't mind."

"Depends,” said Talgerit, grinning. “If I'm not happy, can you break it back the way it was before?"

"Not a problem,” Samuel said, not quite willing to take his eyes off the hunk of meat yet. He had doubts about eating kangaroo.

"We're going fishing,” Talgerit said. “Down to the coast. You all want to come? We'll catch fish, have a big feed, then sleep on the beach."

"Samuel? You want to go?” Nick asked. “I won't, I really need to sleep."

Samuel shook his head. “Me, too,” he said.

"Ask Josh,” Nick said. “He's in the top paddock, fixing up a fence that a procoptodon took out. He wants to talk to you about the thylacines, too, see if we can move them somewhere."

Talgerit nodded. “I'll find Josh, and have a look around for thylacines. I can ask Ed if you're allowed to move them."

"Do you like the ‘roo?” Nick asked later, over dinner, while Samuel chewed another mouthful.

"It's good,” Samuel said. “I've never eaten so much meat before in my life. We usually only eat poultry in Guyana, there isn't enough land to run ruminants, but this is good."

It was, thick and gamey and tender, in gooey gravy, all the corn and vegetables cooked down to a pulp, and Samuel appreciated the quantity of food, too. He'd been hungry on the freighter, but it hadn't been cold, not down in the engine rooms, not like it was on the farm, and the cold made him ravenous.

"I'll take your plaster off tomorrow,” Nick said around a mouthful. “Time to take the sutures out, before the skin grows over them. Then I'll re-plaster you."

"Oh,” Samuel said. “I'd forgotten about that bit."

"Won't hurt,” Nick said, and Samuel decided he couldn't trust him the least bit on that.

After dinner, they sat on opposite sides of the stove, a candle each, and when Samuel glanced up from a novel of dubious literary purport, Nick was watching him.

It was quiet; the stove crackled faintly; the wind whistled a little around the gaps in the floorboards, and when Nick didn't say anything, didn't shift his gaze, Samuel put his book aside. He could wait for Nick, at least for a while. He wasn't going anywhere for the next few weeks.

The wind picked up a little, making the roof creak, and Samuel could hear the branches of the gum tree beside the house rattling against each other. Harold barked once, quietly, on the back verandah, and Nick's face was in shadow, half-hidden by beard and darkness, completely unreadable.

Samuel closed his eyes slowly, deliberately, and breathed out slowly, let his shoulders relax, his hand unclasp from the arms of the chair.

He heard a creak, a whisper of movement, and fingertips pressed against his uninjured thigh briefly, then a moment later, something drifted across his cheek. The pressure trailed down his cheek, across his beard, and the touch intensified.

It was too much to bear, and Samuel opened his eyes. Nick's eyes were hooded, and his thumb stroked across Samuel's cheek, slow and smooth and so good that Samuel could hardly breathe.

He felt like he was melting, and it seemed to him that he'd never wanted someone to touch him so desperately before, never needed it.

Nick's cheek was fire-warm, stray beard hairs wandering up the curve, coarse and strong against skin that time had marked. His temple was scored, by worry lines and sunshine, and Samuel flattened the lines out with his thumb, coaxing the skin smooth, trying to catch a glimpse of the young man that Nick must have been.

When Nick lifted his gaze, meeting Samuel's eyes, he looked so uncertain that Samuel longed to speak, longed to tell him that it was going to be all right, he didn't need to look so scared, but words might have broken what was happening between them; and Nick would ultimately have to live with himself afterward.

Nick's hand was around Samuel's neck now, cradling, and the fingertips of his other hand were floating under Samuel's eye, brushing his eyelashes, making his eyelid flicker, and they shared a sound of mutual amusement, exhalation and rumble.

Samuel was smiling, he could feel it, feel his cheeks folding and the cool air on his teeth, and Nick smiled back at him, and it seemed like they were going to reach some kind of mutual understanding after all.

Laughter bubbled up inside Samuel, overflowed, and then they were both laughing. Samuel slid one hand around behind Nick's neck and guided their mouths together.

It was better than the first time, more about liking each other and less about being cold and lonely, and if Samuel's leg hadn't been in a fucking cast he'd be taking charge, lowering them both to the floor.

But his leg was in a cast, and the floor looked pretty unsavoury, and besides, they were both old enough to be past that, old enough to take this slow, and, damn, but it was good.

Nick made a contented noise, deep in his throat, and lifted his mouth off Samuel's slowly; he tasted of treacle and wood smoke. His hand slid across Samuel's shoulder, strong through layers of wool and skin.

He sunk to his knees, between Samuel's thighs, slow burn in his eyes, and said, “You going to throw me out this time, too?"

Samuel shrugged, under the weight of Nick's hand. “There's something I need to tell you first,” he said. “Something you need to know..."

The bottles of alcohol were arranged in ascending order of murkiness, and Nick chose the one on the end, toffee coloured in the candlelight, and he poured them both a substantial slug in mugs, and sat down across the table from Samuel. “What is it?” Nick asked.

There were so many options, starting with one of the wasting virii, and winding up at aberrations that Nick only suspected existed, but it couldn't be good, under the circumstances.

"I came to Albany for a reason,” Samuel said, circling a finger around the rim of his mug. “I have to get to Perth, to retrieve something. Something important, that exists nowhere else in the world."

Nick nodded and drank some of his whiskey, letting it rip down his throat. “There's nothing that can be worth going to Perth for,” he said. “It took direct hits, and then things got worse."

"The World Government has a space program,” Samuel said. “And plans, big plans, to get off the planet, make a start on expanding into the solar system, mining the asteroid belt, getting a solar sail project working, putting giant photovoltaic cells up, with microwave links back to earth."

"That's ridiculous,” Nick said. “There's no infrastructure left for that, no resources, no money. The world is bankrupt."

Samuel reached out and took Nick's hand and shook his head. “We have to do this, have to make a start, find the resources. That's why Guyana is involved, the bauxite is there, and the means to mine and refine it. Not everywhere was destroyed, there are universities left, research centers, in Guyana and St. Kitts, Gabon and Sudan. It's not all over, there is a chance, a good chance."

"Why you?” Nick asked, shaking his head. “What the hell is there in Perth that is so important? It was only a very large country town, it never grew up enough to matter."

"At the University of Western Australia there was a gravity wave research lab. The lab invented a thing called a sapphire clock, and they were using it to look for drifts in the Fine Structure Constant, among other things. It was the most accurate time measuring device ever invented."

"I went to UWA,” Nick said. “Did my medical degree there. What does the World Government want a sapphire clock for? In words that don't require me to recall my undergraduate physics."

"Measuring time is incredibly important when you're trying to navigate around space. If you don't know when you are, you probably don't know where you are either. Sure, the moon is close, and you can see it, but after that things are a bit trickier, especially with chaotic orbits like the asteroids."

Nick nodded slowly, just once. “With you so far. Now, why you? How come you get sent to find it?"

Samuel smiled, that sideways disarming smile he had, and his fingers curled tighter around Nick's. “Because I have an idea of what the thing looks like and what equipment to take to make it work, but I'm not actually essential in any way. Just informed enough to do the job, but disposable enough not to adversely affect the project if it all goes horribly wrong. If I was smarter, I'd be sitting at home, drinking coffee and crunching numbers, instead of freezing in a farmhouse with a mug of the most godawful whiskey substitute in front of me."

"It's not that bad,” Nick said defensively. “It's actually pretty smooth, compared to some of the batches I've made.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of Samuel's hand. “You really can't go to Perth, there're bad lands between here and there, and the city itself isn't unoccupied."

"It took direct hits, air bursts,” Samuel said. “Who'd want to live there? There's nothing left, is there?"

"Not who, what,” Nick said. “I've heard the songs, from traveling Noongar...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the enormity of what Samuel was contemplating. “Don't go,” was all he could think to say.

"I have to,” Samuel said. “You get to save people's lives all the time, to really make a difference. The only thing of consequence I've ever done is fix the bore at the camp; and you've delivered babies. All I've done is consume resources."

Helplessness was something Nick was familiar with. Bodies failed, people's will to live failed. People chose to do things that harmed them, even killed them. He was used to it, inured by experience and time, but this was different. He was being selfish about this, feeling not thinking, putting his own loneliness ahead of other people's good, but he was so tired of being alone, he didn't want to see the first person he'd connected with in a long time just leave and die.

He must have been quiet for too long because Samuel was looking increasingly worried. “Will you help me?” Samuel asked. “Teach me what I need to know?"

"Bugger,” Nick said under his breath.

The map was old and crumpled, but still undeniably a map, and Samuel watched as Nick traced a route. “You'd need to go north, up to Lake Grace. My wife's sister lives up there, she'll shelter you, give you food. Then to Kutter Kich...” Nick shook his head regretfully. “You can't do this, not travel from Kutter Kich to Perth by yourself."

"Is that the only way there?” Samuel asked, and he ran his finger over the map. “Wouldn't it be quicker to go this way? Are the roads through here still open?"

"No, at least they're not open to people without armored vehicles and grenade launchers. As for this way, through Kutter Kich, that depends whether you think you'll cross yourself the first time something impossible happens,” Nick said, and he swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. “Depends how much you're prepared to do for this."

"A lot,” Samuel said.

"Good."

When Samuel sat on the edge of Nick's bed, Nick knelt down and took off his borrowed slippers and socks, then lifted Samuel's feet up onto the bed carefully. He didn't turn down the covers, just lay down beside Samuel and pulled the thick blanket at the base of the bed up over the pair of them, then blew out the candle.

Samuel's fingers stroked the back of Nick's neck, and Nick could hear Samuel's heart, slow and strong beneath where his head rested. He was struggling on so many levels with what Samuel had said, with the idea that there could be anything of value left in Perth, with the idea that this thing was needed for space travel, that there was even the resources left on the planet to build and launch a space vehicle.

"Weren't there any others?” he asked as Samuel's fingers coaxed tension from his shoulder.

"There were,” Samuel said. “In the US, Japan, Paris and England. They're all gone, people have looked for them."

"What if the Perth one is gone, too?” Nick asked. “What if you go there for nothing?"

"Then we'll know,” said Samuel. “And then we'll have to work out how to build one from scratch."

Samuel's fingers circled Nick's C7 vertebrae, and Nick felt himself dissolving. “I'll talk to Ed,” he said sleepily. “You'll need help."

Samuel kissed the top of his scalp, where his hair was thinning. “Go to sleep,” Samuel said, and it was easy to let go, safe and warm where he was.

The clatter of pans and the glugging of the plumbing woke Nick, just like usual, and he extricated himself carefully from Samuel's sleeping arms, leaving Samuel sprawled across his bed, still fully-dressed, and deeply asleep.

Nick padded out to the kitchen, to the warmth of the fire, and he wondered if he was grinning like an idiot, he felt so good just from having slept beside someone.

"Morning,” Josh said, and he dropped slabs of fish into a pan on the stove.

"Morning,” Nick said, sitting down and checking the teapot to see if it was warm. “When'd you get home?"

"Just before dawn,” Josh said, and Nick couldn't have looked too different from usual because Josh never hesitated to make personal comments. Nick guessed it was the downside of raising a child; they were no respecters of boundaries. “Samuel awake? Should I cook him some fish, too?"

"Think he's still asleep,” Nick said.

Nick waited until Josh had dropped the two plates down on the table and had started in on his own, then he said, “Josh? What would you think of me going away?"

Josh stared at Nick, fork halfway to his mouth. “Leaving the farm? Are you going to Albany?"

"No,” Nick said. “Samuel has to go to Perth. What would you think if I went, too?"