High Frequency

I sat where the jubba tree grows
Next to the joshin’ crick
Where the cold drink flows
Out of the big ol’ rock
Face like men
I smiled under the jubba
And hummed the bluey’s tune

Blacksky’s eye peekin’ ‘round them darklids
I blinked back the blubberin’ of a sticker stuck hoofer
Wrigglin’ my toes, I washered my hoofer in the cold drink
Red runnin’ under the jubba eaves
Hangin’ over the crick

As I were hummin’ the bluey’s tune

A great crack slapped apart the darklids
Like dry snappin’ and yellow brights
I sat down to pull the sticker out
And gave a shout
Amblin’ and hobblin’ and tossin’ m’self in to the crick

As one of them dark sky lights fell on down
Down on where the jubba tree grows

Joshin’ crick rollin’ and chuckin’
I hit up ‘gainst the big ol’ rock with the rest of that joshin’ crick
Head all ablazes
Crawlin’ back up on the bank where the jubba tree used to be

It looked like a bluey’s egg
But big as the ol’ rock
Smokin’ it was like the skyteeth belching fire
I just standed there with my head full of eyeballs

Despite the crash harness and the FI-gel she felt the force of the crash landing to the roots of her teeth, ears ringing.  The comm crackled and snapped at her mutedly through the gel as the C-door fell outwards.  The viscous liquid pulled at her cheeks and fingers, tugging a bit on her hair.  The comm’s muted crackling became clearer as the gel released the nav pane in front of her.  Her spine felt like the ancient instrument of music that you pushed in and pulled out to make noise with.

“Emer, twenty.  Emer, twenty.”

Deactivating here crash harness with one hand, she tapped the comm node with the other.

“Emer here.  Made fall on OE117.  I’m setting the beacon.  Iso-50.”

There was an audible sigh on the other end as she pushed her fingertips around a dial and held it for a moment.

“Good to hear your voice Neasa.  Got your reading, but it’s coming in at an Iso-90.”

Neasa’s breath, what little of it she had managed to regain, caught in her throat.  The pit-pod didn’t have enough power to emit an Iso-90.  Something was wrong.

“Neasa,” her commander’s voice was weak over the comm, “Neasa your beacon’s Iso is rising.  Neasa.  Neasa can you hear me?  NEA-”

The entire nav pane lit up, glowing so bright she had to shield her eyes.  Tugging out of her harness, breath coming now in ragged gasps, she threw herself out of the pit-pod and into the darkness in a great collision of arms and legs.


“Bout the time I was lamentatin’ the jubba
The bluey’s big egg cracked
Piece a shell burstin’ all gooey
Stuff hissin’ hot on the burned up ground

Curiousin’ on over I rolled my mamaw in her grave
Killed as the cat I was pokin’ to look in the bluey egg
Ground hot under my feet, I skippered the fire
Jumpin' a big one and clever steppin' the others

Heared me some chatterin’
So I, just hummin’ bluey’s tune, tried peeking on in
As the guts the egg was all aglow
And ‘fore I know she come tossin’ out

Knockin’ this ol’ boy flat on his chin

Neasa groaned, ribs smarting with double the pain of the crash and landing on top of whoever the young man was, lying beneath her unconscious.  She rolled off of him and felt his neck for a pulse.  Not that she thought he was dead, but- Well, it was better to be safe in case he had friends around.  The nav panel.  Nearly slipping on the loose dirt, she stumbled back to the pit-pod, looking hesitantly in.  The ominous glow was gone, but the comm was silent.  Home was probably under red by now.  Turning away from the pod, Neasa looked down at the young man still lying unconscious on the ground.

“How close did I come to landing right on top of you?”

She sighed and walked around him to stand over his head, reaching under his shoulders to pull him away from the scorched earth of the crash site.  The ground was burning in several spots where some of the hardier vegetation hadn’t simply disintegrated on impact.  The rough edge of whatever he wore for pants passed near just such a spot, fire catching and establishing claim.  Swearing inexpertly, she let him down and slapped at the flames.  He groaned and opened his eyes as she extinguished the flame.  She looked straight down at him, his blue eyes flecked curiously with black, as if the vacuum of space could push its way through a cloudless sky.  He smiled as smoke drifted up from his smoldering trouser leg, his voice quiet with the grogginess of partial consciousness.

“I ain’t ever dreamed of you Sky Lady, but I will.”

A harsh snap echoed brutally against her ears as fire coughed out of the pit-pod and into the cool night air.  She looked back down at him with wide eyes.

And she looked at me with them pretty eyes
As I was just layin’ there under what she would later tell me was the moon
Staring at my Sky Lady
Humming the bluey’s tune