I wasted no more time. I set my face in the direction of the compass and started to run. My pace was very fast, but sustainable. I scanned the ground to each side and in front of me as I ran. Look for a patch of moss more green than yellow. A few possibilities appeared, maybe one an hour, but each one turned out to be a dead end. No berries. Maybe it was too early in their flowering cycle. So, I ran on. Hour after hour, stride after stride.
After I don’t know how long, tiredness was setting in again and so was dehydration. I could feel the nausea start to build and a light-headed feeling caused me to slow down. Finally, I stopped and doubled over on my knees, panting and near vomiting. I was suddenly in anguish, sick to my stomach and my head was pounding. I was dizzy. I was sick. This was bad.
The world began to swim in circles around me and I curled into a ball and lay on my side. I expected that if I could calm myself that I would lower my heart rate and begin to recover. It would be unpleasant, but I’d be fine in a little bit. But I was wrong. I was very wrong. I passed out.
Chapter 6
Refreshment and Learning the Language
I don’t know how long I was unconscious. My next sensation was of a sweet tasting liquid filling my mouth and me swallowing instinctively. I didn’t open my eyes immediately, but felt a hand push my mouth open once more and another fine stream of the nectar was being poured between my parched lips. Again, I closed my mouth and swallowed. My mouth was pressed open again, and this time, a wine skin or water bag of some sort was pushed into my mouth. I felt the wet nipple of the thing against my lips and I sucked at it, craving the life-giving moisture. I took several small drinks from the thing and began to regain my senses somewhat.
The skin was pulled away from my mouth and then replaced a few short seconds later and I sipped at it again. This time, as I sucked at the thing, drawing liquid into my eager mouth, I heard a moaning sound… and I managed to open my eyes. I was completely unprepared for the sight that met my gaze!
I was lying on my back, stretched out where I had collapsed. Above me knelt a young woman, on her hands and knees, her face inches from my own… and the thing in my mouth, nourishing me and bringing me back to life, was her own large breast! I swallowed what was in my mouth and sputtered and began coughing as I choked in surprise. At this, the girl sat back on her thighs and pressed her hand to my forehead to prevent me from rising.
I continued to cough for a moment as I cleared the fluid that I had accidentally inhaled, the girl leaning over me and finally laying herself on top of my chest and holding me with her arms, whispering what seemed to be soothing words in a foreign language. I calmed myself as best I could and tried to hear the words spoken to me.
Carter’s manuscript and the published stories agreed on the fact that the language of Barsoom was spoken, but also largely telepathic. I didn’t understand a word that the girl said, but impressions of meanings seemed to come to my thoughts. It felt like, “Calm, peace… sorry, apologize… death, dying, life… obligation, love, commitment… rest, care, wait.”
Moment by moment, she spoke to me by impressions in my mind and words that I didn’t understand. Moment by moment I recovered both my senses and my strength. The girl held me and comforted me. It felt as though she poured her own life into my body. By instinct, I gently put my arms around her, holding very loosely, and when she didn’t pull away, I hugged my body to hers.
As I hugged her against me, the message became something like, “approval, yes, good… warm, hold, safe… rest, wait, care,” and again, “Sorry, forgive… needed, necessary.”
My breathing returned to me and I started regaining some strength. I felt more refreshed by the second. The girl pulled back and I let her go… and she leaned over me again and offered me her breast, pressing it to my lips! I hesitated for the briefest of seconds, and then sucked at the nipple and swallowed the life she gave me. I heard her moan and felt “pleasure, good… arousal, desire… guilt, forgive, sorry,” and then a burst of wordless joy! She quickly pulled back and shoved the other breast at me and I pulled a long stream of breast milk from her as she moaned, loudly this time, and I felt her burst out in another wave of “sex, joy-love”.
I think that the girl had just experienced at least two orgasms! Simply from having me suck on her tits! After the second one, she lay on top of me again and hugged me tightly against herself. And then I felt the “regret, sorry… death… obligation, duty,” as she nuzzled my chest with her cheek. About a minute later, she sat up and then stood and pulled me to my feet with “Come, go, rise… please, for me… immediate, hurry, urgent”.
Then I had my first look at her. She was stunning. And as I had been told to expect, absolutely naked… except for a belt like my own and hanging from it, a knife and bag. The bag and knife hung at the side of her hips, not in the front. She was completely hairless, except for long golden-yellow hair on her head and trailing down to her mid back. Her skin was very tanned, with a reddish tint to it and her eyes were blue.
She was the shapeliest woman I had ever seen, even in photographs. She stood about five-foot-eight-inches, just four inches shorter than myself. Her hips were perfectly rounded and firm. The breasts that I had recently sucked at were large and amazingly beautiful, the nipples pronounced and firm, standing away from her areola about a half an inch. I suspected that the lower gravity here was responsible for a womanly shape that could never be duplicated on Earth. She was overall, breathtaking!
I was steady on my feet now. The breast milk had refreshed me in an astounding way. The girl pulled at my hand to follow her in the direction that I had been traveling and I nodded and let her lead the way. We ran hand in hand, me slowing my stride to match her pace. After about 15 minutes or so, I believed that we would make better time if I carried her, and stopping, I forced her onto my back, looked at my compass and started off at a run, making twice the speed that we had done before.
The girl held on to my neck and it was a little awkward at first, but soon, she started matching her body bounces to my gait and I was able to take even longer strides. She pointed over my shoulder, about 15 degrees to the right of where I was headed. I looked at my compass, shook my head, and continued on my course.
I felt her saying, “No, not, quit… far, many, infinite… please, yield… come, go… hurry, urgent,” and she pointed again.
I listened to the girl and veered in the direction she indicated. As I ran, she occasionally pointed to adjust my course and I ran on for at least an hour.
As I ran, I thought about what had happened back where she found me. I was dying. The breast milk, while unexpected, saved me. And I had to admit, it tasted really good. Sweet and thick, like cream flavored with honey. When she had offered it to me the second time, and I hesitated, it was because I didn’t want to take advantage or impose, but here my frequent reading of Burroughs’ stories served me well. In so many of the stories, the formula was for the hero to meet a heroine, fall in love, unwittingly offend the woman by a misunderstanding of the customs, and then spend the remainder of the story trying to find out what he had done wrong.
Isn’t that what we all do so often? Try to take responsibility for someone else’s actions and choices? Assuming that somehow we know better what they should do than they do? Letting people make their own choices in the right circumstances made for much better relationships. If she wanted me to suck at her breast and be revived by her body, why should I refuse? If I wanted to die alone on a mossy plain on a foreign planet, well that would be my business as well, but I didn’t, so taking what she freely offered was the only logical choice… and she certainly wasn’t acting like the choice had offended her.