Episode 5, Arrival © C. J. Hoare 2006.

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The wood smelled neat; musty, brown leaves on the ground and fresh green ones higher up. The tree trunks stretched to the branches about twenty metres above her, like a whole forest of pillars, an unobstructed view because the few lower bushes were small and widely scattered. Some trees had clumps of what must be blossoms or seed pods that gave gusts of sweetish aroma on the breeze. Gisel found it cooler under the shade of the trees and leaned her back against the trunk of one that must have been a couple of metres around. The only sounds were the leaves rustling above.

She could just see Mort and Alan inspecting a fallen tree between the rows of grey-green trunks. In the other direction she'd lost all sight of her father and the biologists – she'd given him a call to tell him so. "Keep calling in by radio," he'd snapped.

A bug landed on her cheek. She raised a hand to swat it, but gently brushed it away instead. Maybe M'Tov had a point – she'd better get used to bugs. It looked as if she'd spend the rest of her life here. What the hell would she do with herself? One thing was certain – she wasn't going to partner up with one of these self-opinionated guys and keep springing his babies. She was going to find some job that would let her make her own life.

She glanced toward the fallen tree – Mort and Alan nowhere in sight. They must have moved on. "Hey you guys," she called. "I can't see you."

No answer.

"Hey! Where are you," she shouted this time.

Mort's face appeared in the distance, framed between two tree trunks. "Over here, Gisel. You'd better follow."

She thought about reminding him they were supposed to stay in sight but didn't want to sound like a baby. She picked up the sampling tool and shouldered it – couldn't see anything to worry about in this wood. Should she call Father? No, wait for him to call first.

She ploughed through the rustling leaves to the fallen tree and then cast about for signs of their further progress. Easy to see, the turned over leaves showed their darker, damp sides. They hadn't walked in a straight line but from tree to tree as if they had to touch each one. Maybe they had – must have been months since they last did whatever arborists were supposed to do.

"Hurry up Gisel. We need our sampling tool."

She heard the voice but didn't see the men until one moved out from a nearby bush. She stopped and placed a hand on her hip. "If you'd carried it . . ."

"Quit complaining. Worse than an old woman."

Mort came around the bush. "Yeah. I don't believe you're sixteen. More like sixty, sometimes."

She swung the tool off her shoulder fast enough that he had to step back. "Careful with that thing. You could hurt somebody."

"What did you find so far?"

"You'd never believe it. Most of these trees are cultivated, a whole plantation of oak trees – all the same age."

She squinted at him. Yeah, so? "Why wouldn't I believe it?"

Mort frowned at her. "Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"These people aren't so dumb. They're cultivating trees for construction material. That shows forethought and planning, these take two hundred years to mature."

"Constructing what?" Gisel looked up into the tree beside her.

"My guess would be ships. Somebody around here builds wooden ships."

Gisel smiled faintly. Whatever turns your crank, Mort. But she didn't say anything – these guys were as excited as if they'd found a goldmine. She followed him back to where Alan stared up at an unusually low branch. They took the tool between them and extended it to snip off some small twigs and bring them down.

Mort looked up at her from examining them. "See these furry things. They're the male flowers. These are the female."

"Uhuh." That's what she'd been able to smell. "Is that it?"

They put their specimen in a container and handed her the sampling tool. "Fold that back up, Gisel. We're going to head further that way. Looks like some have been cut."

Wow, would that ever be exciting. She sqeezed the handle to contract the sampling head and took her time to catch up to them.

When she reached them they were bent over a tree stump, like it was a screen or something. Alan traced a finger across it. "At least two hundred years. More if each of these indistinct rings is two years and not exceptionally wet ones."

Gisel looked down on the pattern on the stump. "Kinda pretty. What makes it like that?"

Alan stared at her before turning his back. Mort grinned. "Each one of these rings is a year's growth. We can count how old the trees are."

"And you think they're all the same?"

"That's what we're going to check."

She glanced around the small clearing, must be twenty stumps in sight. They were going to be here a while. "I'll head back to where we came in and call the others."

Alan and Mort were on their way to the next stump. Alan glanced back. "Don't get lost."

Get lost – what did they think she was? She set out confidently, following the trail of mussed up leaves. She stepped over the fallen tree they'd already inspected. As she walked, the idea niggled at her that she hadn't needed to go to the edge of the wood – she could radio her father from anywhere. But she enjoyed the exercise – never been in anything like this before. Only trouble was – she should have been back at the edge of the trees by now, and she couldn't see any brightening to indicate she was getting close.

She stopped to look about. Had she been here before? No telling, all these trees looked the same. She stared at the ground behind her – at least the marks of her passage were clear in the disturbed leaves. Maybe she'd better follow them back.

No. That was stupid – she needed to go further in the direction she was heading.

She shifted the sampling tool from one shoulder to the other. It was beginning to feel heavy. Probably would get a bruise where it bumped up and down with her motion. She walked for ten more minutes, more or less. The woods looked exactly the same. No trace of the brightening at the edge of the trees.

She went on some more. Still nothing. Maybe she'd better follow her trail back. Like hell! That would mean she was lost. She set the sampling tool against a tree trunk and sat down. Getting mad, and she could feel the anger growing – damned trees – stupid wood – wasn't going to help. The first thing to do was calm down. Meditation – she needed to calm herself and get in the moment.

She sat quietly for some time before her breathing really steadied. She was only dimly aware of the woods about her through her almost closed eyes. Then she heard thumping sounds coming through the trees. Her eyes snapped open.

She held her breath to listen. How far away? All depended on how big the . . . thing . . . was, that made the sounds. Like heavy footfalls. Was it coming closer?

It definitely sounded to be getting louder. An intermittent jingling merged with it. She stood up slowly and grabbed for the sampling tool. Not a weapon but it'd pack a mean swing.

She listened carefully. The thumps gave an irregular rhythm, like it was several footfalls, and moving quite fast. An animal, or animals, running. She stared in the direction the sounds came from.

Nothing caught her eye for the longest time, while she breathed as softly as she could. Then a quick movement as something moved through the trees – going across her line of vision. Colours, red and blue. Surely not an animal, but her glimpse hadn't been clear enough to tell for sure.

She held the sampling tool in both hands, out in front of her, and slipped from one tree to the next. She peered around the trunk and then ran to the next tree. The strange sounds still came from quite close. She'd be able to see clearly if there weren't so many trees in the way.

The sounds grew louder. She ran across a wider space between the trees. A movement out of the corner of her eye. She darted behind the nearest tree. What had she seen? She fixed the image in her memory but it was vague. Nothing she'd seen before. A man's face – above an animal's head. Jeeze! Not a centaur!

She peered around the tree. This time she got a better look. Two men, riding horses – something she'd only seen in videos. They were just level, about thirty metres off, and now heading away from her.

She slid around the tree to keep them in view. What if they looked back? Better stay out of sight. What to do?

She set down the sampling tool and remembered the radio on her belt. She should call, but didn't want to tell her father she was lost. She should call anyway, maybe he wouldn't realize that.

"Colonel M'Tov, Father. I see two horesmen coming through the wood."

"What, Gisel? Where?" her Father's voice.

Colonel M'Tov answered. "Do you have their location and direction of travel?"

Oh shit. That's screwed her idea.

M'Tov repeated his question. "Answer, Gisel. We need to know quickly."

"No I don't. I'm not sure where I am."

"Are you lost, Gisel?" Father's voice. "How could you be so stupid?"

M'Tov answered him. "Don't worry about that, Matah. We need the girl's information."

"Yes, I see that. Answer as best you can, Gisel. How far have you gone from the edge of the woods?"

Shit. How do I know? " I think I may have walked the wrong way. I could be as much as a kilometre inside the woods. The horsemen are riding across the direction I was going – if that means anything."

M'Tov's voice came on, sounding jerky, as if he was running. "Are Mort and Alan with you?'

"No. I'm afraid I've lost them."

Her father answered, impatience positively dripping out of the receiver. "Well stay where you are, and keep out of sight. We'll take care of this."