Tom Thompson woke up to the smell of burning wood and fruit. A sheet of pink fiber covered him. He doubted the thing was made out of cotton.

He looked around.

He lay on a bed that seemed to have grown together instead of being constructed out of sections. The walls were brown wood. Striations ran through the material. He didn't see the source of the burning fruit.

Light drifted through a window to his right. It looked like sunset at the local time.

What did he do now?

He decided that he had to look beyond the room he was in. He needed to know some basic things if he wanted to survive. At least the people who had found him had not decided to kill him as some kind of thing men were meant to know.

He hoped he could eat the local food. Hunger made his stomach growl for relief.

Thompson pushed the sheet back, folding the section away in a triangle. He shifted to get his feet under him. He noted the absence of his clothes. Had his benefactors supplied replacements?

He didn't see any clothes in plain view. He wondered if he had to wear the sheet. He stood, surveying the room again.

He saw two doors. One had to lead outside. Where did the other go? He decided that the one door on his left had to lead to a closet, or bathroom if indoor plumbing was a thing. The door on the right had to lead outside since it almost lined up with his window.

He decided to check the supposed closet first. If there were clothes in there, he wouldn't have to wear the sheet while he talked with his hosts.

He wondered how altruistic they were. They had dragged him from the beach instead of doing away with him. He remembered a dwarf with an axe. If they wanted him dead, they could have done it right then.

And they hadn't acted as if he looked like a monster to them. He had been sure of that.

He examined the closet door for a handle. He found a star shaped button next to it. He pushed the button. The wooden panel popped open. That revealed a hanging bar with clothes on a hook. He looked down. Boots stood together on the floor.

He pulled on one of the boots. He nodded when it fit perfectly. He took it off.

How long had he been out? Had it been long enough for them to take his measurements and get clothes for him?

He lifted the sleeve of the long shirt left for him. He couldn't see a seam. He frowned as he let the cloth drop. How did they make things here?

He hoped they didn't make stuff out of marrooned astronauts.

He pulled the clothes on, nodding to himself as he went. He stomped with the boots on to get used to wearing them. Everything felt brand new.

He had pants, undershirt, long shirt, boots, and a belt. He didn't have any of his old clothes, or his tags. He supposed he didn't need the metal identifiers since he didn't have a way to call NASA to let them know he was still alive.

He wondered what that looked like back home. Had they seen the star pulling his spacecraft apart piece by piece? Had they seen him falling into the star?

What was the star?

He supposed it was some kind of gate to where he was. Did the natives have control of it? Could they send him home? What did they want from him? Did they want anything from him at all?

Where was John Carter when you needed him?

He went to the other door and pushed the button. It popped open so he could look outside his room. He couldn't see the ground from inside the frame. He didn't see any dwarves on guard. He stepped outside and looked around.

His new home was on some kind of plateau. Mountains filled his vision no matter which way he looked. How long had he been out? Where was the beach from here?

He walked around the cabin, looking for a way down. He doubted that he had been left alone for long. The people on the beach might show up to talk to him.

Did he want to talk to them? Did they want him for a long pig luau? Was there anything he could use as a weapon? The peak was bare of everything but grass as far as he could tell.

The smell of burning fruit took him to the edge of the plateau. He looked over the side. Someone had set a fire in a ring of stones on an outcropping. A spit roasted rings of some kind of fruit. It reminded him of pineapple. Did pineapple exist here? He didn't see anybody at the fire. Should he go down and see if he could eat the local food?

He decided to go down. He didn't have any food in his cabin, and he had no one to answer his questions. This might be killing two birds with one stone.

Thompson looked around for a ladder. He shook his head when he didn't see one. He used the side of the plateau as stepping stones to get to the outcropping. He looked around for the cook.

“Hello?,” he called. “Is anyone here?”

“I am,” said a voice from the stone.

“I'm Major Thomas Thompson,” said Thompson. “Do you know where I am?”

“Yes,” said the voice. “You're in the Star Chain, about midway along, on Hermit Peak.”

“Who are you?,” asked Thompson. He doubted that the voice spoke English. He must be hearing a translation of the native language.

“I'm Spot,” said the voice. “I'm not really standing on the Peak with you. I'm talking to you from the Fount. I won't be able to do it for much longer.”

“What am I doing here?,” asked Thompson. “Do you know how I can get home?”

“I don't know,” said Spot. “The Queen asked for someone to free the Fount, and I think you are the one that got sent to help her. When that is done, I am sure that you will be sent back wherever you came from to get here.”

“Where is this Fount?,” asked Thompson. It felt good to have some direction to move.

“Is the sun down where you are?,” asked Spot. “I don't really know what time it is.”

“Almost,” said Thompson. “Why?”

“When the sun goes down, you'll be able to see the Fount,” said Spot. “I don't how I can help you from there.”

“So the Queen wants me to travel an unknown amount of distance from where I'm standing to solve her problem?,” said Thompson. “Then she'll send me home?”

“When you're done, I think you will just snap back to where you were,” said Spot. “I might be able to help more when you get closer.”

Thompson considered the words. One hand, he had a long walk ahead of him. On the other when he got there, he might automatically return home. Would the shuttle be rebuilt? Was he looking at a death sentence no matter what he did?

“What if I decide to stay where I am?,” said Thompson.

“Eventually the holder of the Fount will cause something horrible to happen,” said Spot. “That will cause problems for you no matter where you are. So far, I have locking him out without revealing my existence. Sooner, or later, he will figure it out, and I will be in some trouble.”

Thompson frowned at the sudden cutting in choices of action. None of them looked good to him. He could stay and wait for something bad to happen to him, he could try to reach this Fount and face death there, or he could return to his home space system with no guarantee of a ship waiting to take him home.

He decided it was better to get on the move. Despite the cooking fruit nearby, he hadn't seen any other source of food where he was. He could starve waiting around for something to happen.

And there was a chance that his ship would be rebuilt depending on whatever else happened.

“I have one more question,” said Thompson. “How did I get here from the beach where I came to shore?”

“The Queen asked for you to be brought closer,” said Spot. “This was before she was taken.”

“What?,” asked Thompson.

Spot didn't reply.

Thompson went to the spit. He pulled the fruit away from the fire. Things had gotten a little more complicated than he liked.

The sun vanished in a trail of pink. Stars shot up in the sky. He scratched his jaw as he watched the strange fountain in action. When the sky was full, the display ended.

He admitted that was better than a compass.

He looked down at the fruit in his hand. Could he eat it? If he could, where did he get more?

He decided to take a chance. All this could be a dream. He might be floating in space, taking his last breath of supplied oxygen. He might as well enjoy the dream while he was dreaming it.

He waved the fruit to cool it down enough to pull apart with his fingers. He slowly ate the fruit. It tasted like someone had mixed apples, bananas, and grapes into one concoction. He nodded as he enjoyed the small meal.

He felt invigorated. Even if he had wanted to go back to sleep, he couldn't now. He hoped that he hadn't broken some local taboo eating the fruit, but it was just what he needed.

He needed to find a way down the side of the mountain, and then a road to the Fount. He had a feeling that once he was in motion, he would see trouble.

If the Queen wanted help where she was, he doubted it was going to be something simple like changing a lightbulb.

He doubted they had lightbulbs here.

He thought about dousing the fire. He realized it was burning some fuel from the mountain. He didn't see any way to douse that flame.

He decided to leave it. He had other things to do at the moment.

He looked for a way down from the outcropping. He didn't see anything obvious.

He wondered if the natives could fly, and that was why he hadn't seen any climbing tools around the peak. There should be rungs at least.

He decided to climb back up to the cabin and look for another way down. He knew he wasn't going to fly around without wings.

Thompson used the wall to climb back up to the plateau. He walked the edges until he was back over the outcropping. He walked another circle before he saw something in the valley below. He realized he was looking at a fire like the one on the outcropping.

The side of the peak where he was dropped down in a series of steps. The path looked like it circled the mountain. He wondered if it ended at the outcropping where the fire happened to be.

He looked at the five pointed lights in the sky. He wondered what they really were. They weren't suns.

Thompson climbed back down to the outcropping. He looked around until he saw the narrow path ending below the stone platform. He would have to lower himself down from the outcropping. As long as he walked next to the mountain, the rest should be easy.

He knew he just wanted an easy walk, but trouble was on the way. The information he had been given, if it was true, pointed to that. He might need to arm himself as some point. He didn't want to face things in the dark.

He worked his way around the sides of the mountain. He chewed over how he had been transported from the beach. Spot hadn't really told him how it was done.

Where was the woman and the dwarf he had seen before he had passed out?

He wondered if the woman was the Queen and what had happened between his passing out and his arrival on Hermit Peak.

Had Spot told him the truth?