(no subject)
There's a brief, blurred impression of the stone statue's hand and the curve of its wing, too close, much too close --
-- and everything whirls and turns inside out, like going through a wormhole (but that's impossible, she thinks dizzily, I'm not on a Jumpship), and the wind drives stinging needles into her face.
Cordelia staggers, throws out a hand for balance, catches herself on a rough stone surface sloping away from her. The statue, she thinks at first, but it's the wrong kind of stone and much too irregular -- and when did it get this cold? the temperature's dropped ten degrees, easily -- and the gravel is gone from underfoot, there's solid stone beneath her shoes --
Only two or three seconds flick by while all this goes through her head, and by this time she's bringing up her other hand to rub her eyes and clear her vision.
To find everything around her utterly changed. She's standing on a mountain ledge dusted with snow, one hand bracing on a stone outcropping. The sky is thickly overcast, sifting down more snow, and dark enough to mean the sun's not far from the horizon.
She's not dressed for this weather. Her hands are already cold to the point of pain, especially the one touching the cold bare rock. She folds her arms, stuffing her hands into her armpits for warmth and hunching uselessly into her bolero jacket, and keeps looking around. What happened? is a pressing question, but where am I? needs to be answered first.
The trouble is that she could be literally anywhere. Well, on any planet with a breathable atmosphere and near-standard gravity. No sign of anything nearby that indicates how she got here, which suggests that she didn't arrive by normal means. And thus that getting back by normal means is unlikely. You're here for the duration. Start thinking long-term.
The nearby brush looks like Earth vegetation: chlorophyll-green, needlelike leaves, probably coniferous. Not an uninhabited planet, then, which means there might be people nearby. For some value of 'nearby', she amends that thought; there are places on Barrayar where Earth-imported plants ran wild and feral during the Time of Isolation, fighting the local vegetation to a draw, and still grow well outside of any human habitation.
It's not a comforting thought. Your goal here isn't comfort, she tells herself sternly, it's survival. Assume there's no human settlement within walking distance and go on from there. What do you do?
Freeze or starve, it seems. If it gets darker it will get colder, and hypothermia is already looking likely even if the temperature doesn't change. Can't know what to expect, no way to tell if that dusky sky means early morning or early evening. Or neither; she doesn't even know what world she's on, much less how close to a polar region. Find natural shelter of some kind, maybe -- but she has no heat source, nor any way to make one, and nothing to insulate her body heat from the cold; a cave floor will wick the heat away faster than the air. And if she does find adequate shelter, will she be able to leave it long enough to find food and water?
And I used to be a Survey captain.
Fine. Untenable conclusion, and nothing to be done about it. Assume there is some human settlement within walking distance, and go on from there.
The mountain slopes down toward a valley that's barely visible in the dim light -- which, unless she's imagining it, is getting dimmer. Cordelia rubs her eyes again and squints out into the gathering dark, straining to make out any details at all.
There -- was that a light? Tiny, barely visible, moving -- and gone. She stares at the spot where it was, and catches it out of the corner of her eye when it reappears a short distance away, still moving steadily. A vehicle maybe, or someone carrying a light, passing behind something that occluded it briefly. Either way, a human presence. Or, she tells herself in reflexive caution, an automated system. Or a bioluminescent bug of some kind...
Go for it anyway. It's the best bet you've got right now.
She pulls her bolero tighter around herself, and starts walking down the mountain.
-- and everything whirls and turns inside out, like going through a wormhole (but that's impossible, she thinks dizzily, I'm not on a Jumpship), and the wind drives stinging needles into her face.
Cordelia staggers, throws out a hand for balance, catches herself on a rough stone surface sloping away from her. The statue, she thinks at first, but it's the wrong kind of stone and much too irregular -- and when did it get this cold? the temperature's dropped ten degrees, easily -- and the gravel is gone from underfoot, there's solid stone beneath her shoes --
Only two or three seconds flick by while all this goes through her head, and by this time she's bringing up her other hand to rub her eyes and clear her vision.
To find everything around her utterly changed. She's standing on a mountain ledge dusted with snow, one hand bracing on a stone outcropping. The sky is thickly overcast, sifting down more snow, and dark enough to mean the sun's not far from the horizon.
She's not dressed for this weather. Her hands are already cold to the point of pain, especially the one touching the cold bare rock. She folds her arms, stuffing her hands into her armpits for warmth and hunching uselessly into her bolero jacket, and keeps looking around. What happened? is a pressing question, but where am I? needs to be answered first.
The trouble is that she could be literally anywhere. Well, on any planet with a breathable atmosphere and near-standard gravity. No sign of anything nearby that indicates how she got here, which suggests that she didn't arrive by normal means. And thus that getting back by normal means is unlikely. You're here for the duration. Start thinking long-term.
The nearby brush looks like Earth vegetation: chlorophyll-green, needlelike leaves, probably coniferous. Not an uninhabited planet, then, which means there might be people nearby. For some value of 'nearby', she amends that thought; there are places on Barrayar where Earth-imported plants ran wild and feral during the Time of Isolation, fighting the local vegetation to a draw, and still grow well outside of any human habitation.
It's not a comforting thought. Your goal here isn't comfort, she tells herself sternly, it's survival. Assume there's no human settlement within walking distance and go on from there. What do you do?
Freeze or starve, it seems. If it gets darker it will get colder, and hypothermia is already looking likely even if the temperature doesn't change. Can't know what to expect, no way to tell if that dusky sky means early morning or early evening. Or neither; she doesn't even know what world she's on, much less how close to a polar region. Find natural shelter of some kind, maybe -- but she has no heat source, nor any way to make one, and nothing to insulate her body heat from the cold; a cave floor will wick the heat away faster than the air. And if she does find adequate shelter, will she be able to leave it long enough to find food and water?
And I used to be a Survey captain.
Fine. Untenable conclusion, and nothing to be done about it. Assume there is some human settlement within walking distance, and go on from there.
The mountain slopes down toward a valley that's barely visible in the dim light -- which, unless she's imagining it, is getting dimmer. Cordelia rubs her eyes again and squints out into the gathering dark, straining to make out any details at all.
There -- was that a light? Tiny, barely visible, moving -- and gone. She stares at the spot where it was, and catches it out of the corner of her eye when it reappears a short distance away, still moving steadily. A vehicle maybe, or someone carrying a light, passing behind something that occluded it briefly. Either way, a human presence. Or, she tells herself in reflexive caution, an automated system. Or a bioluminescent bug of some kind...
Go for it anyway. It's the best bet you've got right now.
She pulls her bolero tighter around herself, and starts walking down the mountain.