“No.” I couldn’t stop looking at her.
“Well... good-bye, then.” She crossed her yard.
“Amanda?”
She stopped. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I--nothing.” As she opened her door I blurted, “Would you like to go with me?”
“To the mountains? I can’t, Nicky. I have a job.”
“I know. I thought maybe somehow--”
“School starts in three weeks. If I don’t have my curriculum ready... “
“They’ll fire you?”
She giggled. They’d waited three years for her; it would take three more to send for a replacement. “They won’t be very happy.” She frowned. “But I don’t care. I want to see the Ventura Mountains.”
“Really?” I said stupidly.
“With you. I want to see them with you.”
My eyes stung. I felt light-headed and miserable all at once. I ran to her and we embraced. “You’ll really go? God, can we start now?”
“Give me the night to get ready. And I have to explain to Mrs. Potter.” After a while she managed to get me to leave.
Derek didn’t seem put out when I told him I’d invited Amanda. He helped me buy a second pup tent and load the extra food and other supplies in the jet heli we’d rented. I had to promise the heli service three times not to tamper with the transponder; Captain Grone’s disappearance must have made them skittish.
We took off for the Western Continent shortly after breakfast. I was the only licensed driver; they’d taught us helipiloting at Academy but Derek and Amanda had never learned.
The permabatteries had ample charge for months. From time to time I turned on the autopilot to lean back and rest my eyes. The craft was roomy enough for Derek and Amanda to switch seats; they did so several rimes before settling down.
At four hundred fifty kilometers per hour it took us more than eight hours to reach the western shore. The huge submarine trees growing from the bottom of Farreach Ocean sent probing tentacles to the surface to absorb light. Plants somewhat like water lilies floated on the surface, rising and falling with the swells. The ocean was a vast liquid field of competing vegetable organisms.
The jagged spires of the Western Mountains loomed on the horizon long before we reached the continent; their raw power was breathtaking. The low hills and gently sculpted valleys of the Eastern Continent were tame compared to the vigor of these much younger peaks.
Derek pored over the map. “Do you want an established campsite or should we find a place of our own?”
“Let’s find someplace,” I said. Amanda nodded agreement. The cleared campsites would be remote enough, but we had no need to settle for them. Even after a hundred years, there were places in the continent no foot had trod.
Western Continent had settlements, far to the south, but here in the northern reaches virgin forests covered the sprawling land. At the coast, phalanxes of hills plunged to the sea to bury themselves in the swirling foam. Farther inland, great chasms cowered beneath the bristling peaks of the Ventures.
The heli service had marked some of the more spectacular sights on our map. Taking bearings from nav satellites I headed west over dense foliage.
As dusk neared I set us down on a grassy plain high in the hills. To one side was deep forest; a hundred feet beyond, the plain gave way to steep hills running down to a green and yellow valley. Across the vale a peak thrust upward so steeply that little grew on it. Waterfalls tumbled from the creases in the hill.
We got out the three-mil poly tents and their collapsible poles. I helped Derek pound stakes into the soft earth. We clipped the thin, tough material across the poles, and the tents were ready. Amanda began trundling in our gear.
Derek brought the micro and the battery cooler from the heli. He delved into the cooler and emerged with softies.
While I downed mine in two long swallows, he kicked at the grass. “How about going really primitive?”
I asked, “How?”
“A bonfire.” A heady thought. In Cardiff, as in most regions of home, wood was scarce and pollution so great that hardly anyone could get a permit to burn outdoors. Even the flue over Father’s hearth had its dampers and scrubbers.
Here, we need have no such concerns, as long as we were careful. I began clearing space for a fire.
The tough native grasses didn’t pull out easily; it took a shovel to dig them out. Their shallow intertwined root system ran just below the surface, and I had to spade to break the roots free.
Derek and Amanda returned from time to time with armfuls of firewood. I wondered if they intended our blaze to be seen from Centraltown. Our work kept us warm in the chill of the upland evening, but when we finished we immediately built up the fire.
I fed the flames from my cushion near the pit, while Derek and Amanda consulted on dinner like two master chefs sharing a kitchen. It pleased me that they liked each other.
We ate at fireside under the gleam of two benevolent moons. In the dark of the night, the crackling of the fire and the muted splashing of the waterfall across the valley were our only sounds. Knowing there were none, still I listened for insects and birds calling in the night.
Hope Nation seemed too silent. I knew our ecologists were preparing to introduce a few bird species and selected terrestrial insects. Bees to pollinate crops the old-fashioned way, for instance.
“It’s beautiful, Nicky.” Amanda sat between us. We’d devoured our dinner and were lazing around the campfire.
Our once mighty stacks of wood were fast diminishing, but they’d last until bed.
I tossed twigs into the flames. “What will people make of it when they settle here?” “They wouldn’t ruin a place like this.”
I snorted. “You should see Cardiff.” I’d seen photos of home in the old days, before the disposal dumps and treatment plants and the litter of modern civilization had improved the terrain. Still, the picturesque old smelters remained, some of them, as ruins.
I moved closer to the fire, watching my handsome midshipman’s face as he chatted with Amanda. Odd feelings stirred, recalling Jason, eons past. I shivered, wrenched myself back to reality. “Have you camped out with a friend before, Derek?”
He laughed. “On the rooftops of Upper New York?”
We stared into the firelight.
After a time he said to the flames, “I’ve never had a friend before, Mr. Seafort.”
I didn’t know how to answer. In Cardiff I had companions my own age. Together, we ran in the streets and got into mischief. Father, vigilant about my own behavior, grudgingly accepted my choice of associates. Jason and I were especially close, until the football riot of ‘90.
The silence stretched.
“Mr. Seafort, I want you to know.” Derek’s voice was shy. “This was the best day of my whole life.”
I could think of nothing to say. Not knowing what else to do, I reached out and patted his shoulder.
After a while Amanda yawned, and I found myself doing the same. “A long flight. I’m ready for bed.” I stood, and Amanda gathered her blanket.
An awkward moment. Amanda and I took a step toward the larger tent but stopped, embarrassed. Derek pretended not to notice. Hunching closer to the fire he peeled off his shut in its warmth. I tugged Amanda’s hand, gesturing toward our tent. On impulse, she let go my fingers, crossed to Derek.
She leaned over him and kissed him on the cheek. In the flickering light I saw him blush right up to the roots of his hair. “G’night.” He fled to his tent.
Smiling, I followed Amanda into our own shelter. We began taking off our clothes, poking and jostling each other in the closeness. I shivered when my skin touched the cold foam mattress. Amanda crawled in beside me.
Perhaps it was the first night in the exotic wildness of Western Continent. Aroused as never before, I tried to possess Amanda absolutely. My fingers and tongue roamed, caressing, probing, stroking, taking her warmth and making it mine.
I sucked greedily at her juices, her feverish hands guiding me gently. When at last I entered her it was as if I had become whole, our bodies thrusting desperately for fulfillment in simultaneous passion.