one_man_army | oom for trudy -- earth, zimbabwe. matobo national park.

oom for trudy -- earth, zimbabwe. matobo national park.

Eight months after arriving in Zimbabwe, he got his first chance to take some leave -- some of the volunteers took advantage of the break to go home, visit family, or return to 'civilization' for a bit -- and he promptly disappeared.

He'd been camping in Matobo National Park for almost two weeks before he'd found a door to the bar, but once he'd found it, it made sense to head to Milliways in search of his girlfriend.

(As well as a hot shower he didn't have to pay for at one of the lodges.)

The door from the bar opened out into the pre-dawn twilight, hints of color lighting the eastern sky to reveal an expanse of wild bush country surrounding the campsite.

Carl shifted the pack they'd picked up at the bar (she'd need gear too, if she was going to stay for a bit) on one shoulder as he stepped aside to let her through.

"Welcome to Matobo."

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She grins at him and adjusts her aviators slightly as she walks through the door, a grin that fades to a smirk.

It's Africa. She'd promised herself that she was never stepping foot on the place, ever again. But this is Carl's Africa, no hers. Wars, sure, but nothing to do with her.

And there is this.

"Just in case we all forget," she says, "I love you. Just for the record."

His free arm going around her shoulders, he pulls her into a half-hug.

"Noted. I think we'll remember, but I like being reminded."

She laughs.

"Y'never know." She bumps her hip against his, and grins. "So, show me around D-boy."

"Give the bellhop a minute to stow the woman's bags, would you?"

(This action consists of Carl turning around and gently tossing Trudy's pack onto his cot, before ducking in to the tent to grab his lighter daypack.)

It'll be light enough to hike in a matter of minutes, and they both have low-light hiking experience, so he nods towards one of the many trails heading for the low hills that surround the area.

"We get up there, you'll have a pretty good view of this little valley that we're in."

It won't be more than a twenty or thirty minute walk.

Admittedly, she's more used to hiking through buildings, but she's done her fair (more than fair) share in Pandora.

"Lead the way."

"Once things have woken up a bit, we could go out to the game park, try and catch a look at some of the true natives."

The flora is definitely different than what she's used to, but it's still an incredible variety, even if it's not the amazing biodiversity of Pandora.

"And the odds of somethin' trying to eat me?"

She's got her handgun, hidden but within easy reach, but...Pandora.

"Not very high," he says. "You hear the occasional pack of baboons goin' crazy if there's a leopard about, but...I haven't bothered by much of anything here in the campsite since I've been here."

No lions stalking the campfire, no rhinos tromping along the path to the lodges.

"Wow. Animals acting like animals. I'm impressed already."

"Because they're not trying to maul people left and right?"

"Yeah. Pandora, it's...hell, it's freaking weird. They attack the base, the mine...it's better out in the jungle, but it's...really odd."

"I wonder why the behavior is so different from planet to planet, species to species," he comments, as he navigates them through an dry streambed at the base of the hill.

(It's obvious he's made this walk a few times since he's been here, the way he moves across the ground.)

"You'd think with such a wild group of animals, they'd be fearful of the humans. Do they attack the Na'vi like they attack you guys?"

"Not that I can tell," she says, tone wry as she follows him. Habits are habits, though, and she's constantly scanning the surrounds and the sky. Not obviously, but it's there.

"They'd say it's because we don't know how to move through the jungle."

"I think if anyone knows how to move through a hostile environment, it'd be trained military."

And she's not trained in leaving no tracks or trace of her presence, but he knows she's good at what she does. (And better at flying.)

"Yeah, you'd think." She snorts. "Hell, if it weren't that they were animals doing it, I'd say it was all deliberate."

Carl shrugs. "Who knows...it very well might be. Maybe they're hyperintelligent."

Or maybe they see the humans as no more than tasty snacks.

"I'm glad the ones here aren't, at the least."

"Hivemind."

Trudy grins.

"My tour is so science-fiction, it's great."

"I swear, they'll make a movie about the crazy shit you do someday."

A beat.

"But they'd have a hard time finding someone has good lookin' as you are to play your part."

"...aw, crap, you know you're actually probably right."

"Be it in one universe or another, it'll probably happen. I mean...look at Milliways and 'Star Wars'."

"What about Star Wars and Milliways?"

"I had drinks with Han Solo, once. The real Han Solo."

She stops, right in the middle of the trail.

"You didn't."

"He was even drinking the whiskey they talk about in the books. Whyren's, I think it was?"

Beat.

Wicked smirk.

"Still hot as he is on screen?"

INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

Now it's Carl's turn to pause and consider.

"Y'know, I'm not sure I should answer that...or even if I can."

A smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

"You already know I have a thing for pilots."

"HAH! Good answer," she says as she starts to walk again. "Well, the thought of there being some other movie about what goes down on Pandora in some other universe is just odd. In my world, they've got a few series and a movie about the landing. But, Augustine's all legendary so I wouldn't be surprised is someone decided to write about her.

Hopefully they'll just...not have me."

"They wouldn't be able to get you right," he says. "And not just your good looks."

There is no comparison to her spunk and her spirit, as far as he's concerned.

That gets a bit of a smile. "I just...don't want to be that well known. Ever. And the idea of someone trying to be me, or an idea of me..."

She shudders.

"Ugh, no thanks."

"I agree. I'd rather just...be myself. Not have someone trying to get into my head."

They're nearing the top of the rise; it's a bit of a slight scramble for a step or two, but once they reach the top he heads for a large granite boulder and offers her a boost to climb up.

"And no one could capture the sheer pain in the ass nature of Augustine, anyway."

The boost is accepted, and once at the top, she sits down.

And stares.

"Well, wow," she says, softly.

Carefully, he hauls himself up (it takes a bit of a hop from a lower rock to make it on his own) and moves to sit beside her.

"Wow is the best way t'put it, isn't it."

He points out a cluster of buildings on the opposite hill -- the lodges and cabins -- as well as a wide, slow moving river in the distance, and a few other landmarks that he's discovered in his days spent sitting up here.

Then he laughs under his breath.

"Y'know, I actually tried t'sketch some of this?"

"Yeah? I can see why, it's just...gorgeous." She has her sketchbook in her own pack, but she doesn't get it out just yet.

Then she looks at him.

"'Tried'?"

"They turned out lookin' like something you'd expect to see hangin' on a refrigerator after your kid brought 'em home from school."

Carl is his own worst art critic, apparently.

"As, so you're more of the Impressionist school, then," says the woman who still has a bit of a crush on Van Gogh.

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