Trapped on Predator Planet, page 12
Surprised, I grunted.
“Your vitals are showing elevated risk factors such as lowered blood oxygen levels, lactic acid build-up, and higher adrenal outputs. How long are you capable of sustaining these deficits?” she asked.
“The hunter does not complain of his fatigue or thirst. He feels no pain, as that is to dishonor the Holy Sisters who have provided the sanctuary of his dream place,” I said. Even now, my mind sought to resume my run to reach my heart mate and secure her future.
“Is the answer to my question ‘indefinitely’ then?” she pushed.
“Ik,” I said, taking a final deep breath and holding the shining dream place like a bowl of hunter’s mead, ready to imbibe when needed, in my mind.
“Then I will leave you to it, Raxkarax,” she said. “My drone monitors Joan’s perimeter and remains within range of both your helmets.”
“Very well, VELMA,” I said and leaped from the shade of the tree back onto the narrow path between acid pools.
“Joan, you are well?” I asked.
“As well as could be expected,” she said, her voice weary.
“Had you any luck hunting the dirt-tongue?” I asked, unable to keep concern out of my voice.
“No, Raxkarax, I have not,” she said with force. “I don’t know; between hiding from demon flesh-eating bugs by rubbing disgusting slime all over myself, dodging ankle-breaking holes and avoiding being constricted to death, I haven’t had the time.”
Opening my mouth to speak, I checked myself. Perhaps this was not the time to offer advice or counsel. I possessed very little knowledge of the humans; would encouragement also be offensive in this moment of stress?
“I can hear you analyzing me, hunter,” she said, her voice tight.
“In truth?” I asked, momentarily stalled in my journey.
A loud exhalation rocked my comms.
“Let’s just say your silence was louder than words,” she said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
Puzzling out what I should say in response, I missed the significance of the shadow passing overhead until it was too late.
Scraping and scratching at my helmet and shoulders primed me for the rodaxl attack. Seizing both weapons, I ducked and dodged, swinging up and out to hinder the huge birds. I needed cover; they would call to others to aid them, and I couldn’t withstand more than five.
If Joan called out to me, I didn’t hear it over the flurry of talons and feathers.
Jabbing with my short blade, I swung my sun blade in wide arcs, grazing the underbellies of two birds while fending off the stabbing beak of a third. In a desperate flourish, I crossed my blades and managed to dispatch a head, but a solid impact at my back alerted me a fourth had arrived.
Cursing, I realized these were the legendary rodaxl who’d developed a taste for Shel, and my heart raced. They would strip me of my armor first, then follow me until I succumbed to any one of the dangers of Ikthe and finish me off.
I activated my lightning shield, and the stench of burning feathers hit my nose. The attack abated for a jotik, enough for me to dart to the nearest boulder and use it to shield my back. The three heckled me, taking turns diving at my joints; they’d learned well-placed beaks or talons could rip armor off in a bloody mess and provide the slick meat they craved.
The lightning shield could only be deployed three times before it endangered the Shel. I could enable the cloaking, but they already knew where I was. Hands busy with defense, I wasn’t free to unleash my pouch of meat to toss away as bait.
Dodging my strikes with their long necks and jointed legs, they managed to loosen several armor pieces with their frenetic battle. For the first time in cycles, I feared for my safety. To survive in the Agothe-Fatheza, one needed every advantage, and my armor was my shield and protection.
A burning sensation erupted at my right shoulder; a rodax peeled up the corner of my epaulet, disengaging the Shel with brutal abandon, and I howled my rage. Slamming into the boulder, I pressed the piece against my arm, willing the Shel to find their way back into my skin while making vicious swipes with my left hand, shearing the talons and claws that got too close.
A fatal injury to one gave me a rotik’s reprieve as the two others flapped and hovered, doubtless deciding if the battle was worth it.
Barbs stinging in my upper arm, the Shel had found their way back into their burrows, and I grimaced. A huge black scar in the hazy orange sky drew my attention.
Kathe.
Countless more flew to us.
Craning my neck to peer around the boulder, I studied the lay of the infected boil that was the Agothe-Fatheza’s vestibule—bubbling iridescent pools and boiling mud pits—and tried to decide my next course. Dying was not an option, nor was losing my only protection against Ikthe’s elements.
Spying a wide rocky shelf between two acid pools, I ran and dove for it, sliding on my back.
The hungry birds followed, but when the first one stretched its talons to grapple at my sword, I lunged for the acid pool, keeping my bulk on land. She lost her balance and in a flurry of panic, dipped her wings in the acid. Beak and hohijopa widening in horror, she fell in, dissolving bit by bit while the other dipped and darted, inflating its throat sac in pleas for help.
The swarm drew closer.
I could not outrun them. Holding them off between the acid pools would diminish their numbers, but not by enough to save me.
Sinking in the pit of my stomach, I clenched my jaw and swallowed. “Joan, I give you my regrets,” I said. “I had hoped to meet you in person. But I can’t see my way out of this battle.”
“Don’t give up,” she said in my ear, anger punctuating the syllables. “I’m working on something. Keep fighting them off.”
The drone—she witnessed my battle from her location—helpless but to watch me fail.
“I tried to get to you,” I said, fatigue catching up with me as the first of many rodaxl dove for me. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Damn you, Raxkarax,” she whispered.
Chapter 29
Joan
“What do you mean, ‘Negative’?” I shouted. “Rax needs help now!”
“The closest SLO nosecone is still twenty minutes out,” VELMA said, unruffled, her voice absent panic, as it would be. She was a fucking computer program.
Watching the video feed from the drone, I sucked in air and groaned, sinking to my butt on the ground. Huge black birds with bald heads and orange throat sacs circled like vultures and descended on the hunter with the black and purple armor until I could no longer see him.
“Think, Joan,” I said to myself, rocking in angst. “VELMA, bring the drone back to me ASAP,” I said with a start and jumped up. Turning on the trail, I sprinted full bore back to the place the snake lay dead in the grass.
Patting my pockets, I pulled out the water pouch containing my photographs, removed the photos and shoved them back in my pocket, and held the pouch open while I stripped hundreds and hundreds of burrs from the grass and poured them into the pouch. Working frantically, I pinged Rax.
“Help is on the way,” I said, breathless. “Don’t you give up. Keep smacking those birds into the acid pools, whatever it takes, okay? Keep trying!”
He didn’t answer me, and I stifled the sob in my throat. Pouch stuffed full; its edges slid perfectly into the grooves in the drone’s undercarriage after VELMA had piloted it down to me.
“Keep her steady and when you’re over the flock, dump it!” I said, and it zipped away with a whir.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, Raxkarax,” I said. “Hang in there. You’re amazing; you know that, right?”
Jogging back to the trail, I sped up, my mind singularly focused on the hunter. I forgot about myself, David, thirst, hunger, anxiety. Raxkarax filled my thoughts: his voice, his laugh, his steadiness. Even if I never fell in love again, I could be his friend. He demanded nothing. Expected nothing.
“Please,” I said. “Please keep trying. We need you. I need you.”
Machete brushing my thigh with every stride, I ran, grateful for my long legs and powerful stride; I was good at running.
Minutes passed.
I ducked under snaky branches dripping with moss, jumped over more miniature pools teeming with life, tripped over tree roots and got back up, squeaked at the sight of a giant millipede, but just kept running.
“VELMA,” I said, breathing ragged and lungs burning. “What’s the status of the drone?”
“I’ve lost contact with the drone,” she said. “According to internal records, an SLO nosecone should be passing in three minutes. I’ll scan from there and ping the nanosatellite arrays. You should be within comms distance of Raxkarax in one hour.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered as I ran. The birds must have taken out the drone which meant no more radio frequency communication. We were back to nosecone passes. “Damn this air,” I said and swiped my helmet, clearing slime away.
“Perimeter scans showing possible threats,” VELMA said, and I skidded to a stop and crouched on one knee.
Gasping for breath, I released my machete with a shaky hand.
“Would you like me to deploy the LASER scatter shot?” VELMA asked.
“No,” I said without thought. “Kill as many of the birds as you can without hitting Rax,” I said. “I’ll take care of whatever this is.”
“Very well,” VELMA said.
Grim reality settled on my shoulders. Maybe VELMA could have done both: killed whatever lay in wait just around the corner and killed the birds attacking Rax, but I didn’t want to take any chances at missing my opportunity to help him.
Squeezing the machete handle, I hoped that didn’t mean I had to die a grisly death.
Chapter 30
Raxkarax
Joan had asked me to keep trying. Had I not requested the same of her? Even as the sky obscured with black feathers and bloody talons and beaks, I thrust my weapons into their bodies and faces, slamming them at my sides, flinging them into the acid pools, but still they kept coming.
For a time, their numbers lessened, and through a break between their feathers, I spied several flying erratically, attempting to preen midair as if something clung to their feathers, and then attacking VELMA’s drone. More closed in on me after that.
Were they so desperate for meat?
Energy stores depleting, the only thing fueling my strength now was the memory of Joan’s voice in my helmet.
And then I heard her again.
“I need you.”
What was it? Did another of Ikthe’s children harry Joan with its teeth and claws? I roared and stabbed, rising to one knee. With another howl, I took to my feet, crouching and twirling in wide, swinging slashes, activating one final lightning shield blast and flinging the singed birds away from me. I leaped forward, barely missing the ledge of an acid pool, and ran toward a steam plume, hoping to drive more into its deadly spray, but a huge rodax splatted on the ground in front of me, halting my run.
Another fell behind me, and I spun. They dropped from the sky, one by one, bright flashes erupting like lightning bolts, until every hell spawn one of them lay dead on the ground or sizzled in acid.
The horrid smell worsened, but I belted a shout.
“Thank you, VELMA!”
“You are welcome, Raxkarax, but Joan is responsible for extending your life this time,” she said. “I apologize, but the loss of the drone means limited communication once more.”
Exhaustion weighing me down, I finally noticed my missing armor. Shoulder plate on my right arm. Forearm panel left arm. Picking my way through the bodies, I tried to find them. I pulled the forearm panel from beneath a bloody rodax and inspected it. Breathing a sigh of relief, I replaced it, letting the few remaining Shel burrow into my arm and find their rest.
The shoulder plate was gone.
Looking past the spewing pools, I studied the line of dark trees delineating the marsh borders. It wouldn’t be too long now.
I would have run but found I couldn’t.
And so, I limped.
Chapter 31
Joan
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said aloud. Panting from my run and still in a crouch, I watched in horror as a sinuous, thick vine rose up out of one of the foot-diameter pools, growing taller and taller.
It wasn’t a vine, then.
It was like a pale green snake.
Which meant this had to be another of the “swamp serpents” that I’d outswum earlier and that Raxkarax had mentioned.
“The birds, known locally as rodaxl, have been eliminated,” VELMA said in my earpiece.
“Is Raxka—”
“Raxkarax is alive and walking,” she said. “However, you’re just out of range to communicate via helmets.”
“Care to scan the latest development?” I said, watching the swamp serpent sway its head side to side, turning it ever so slightly in order to eye me thoroughly yet separately, since its bulbous green eyes sat on opposite sides of its head.
Tracing its body from head to pool, I saw its girth exactly matched all the little pools, and the vast honeycomb took on new meaning. To think only miles back I’d leaned over one and admired all the fascinating details of the tiny world. It could have been staring up at me through the water, studying the clear bubble-encased dark eyed creature and wondering what it tasted like.
“I’ve not yet catalogued this creature,” VELMA said. “Upon initial scans, it appears to be a cross between reptile and amphibian. Standby.”
“As if I could do anything else,” I said, feeling an acute cramp in my glutes. If I moved, it would strike. At least, that’s what I assumed.
Swaying, undulating, it stared at me. Was it rising higher? It was already two and a half meters above me.
It occurred to me that I’d been a real snot to Raxkarax the last time he offered advice on how to deal with one of Ikthe’s monsters. Well, I hadn’t been properly terrified yet. I was now.
“VELMA, are you still transmitting infrasound?” I asked. “Any idea if it has any effect?”
The swamp serpent’s head lowered, its neck appearing to rise up, as it tilted to the side, one solid green eye with a tiny black pupil directed at me.
“That information is unverified, but I am calculating simulations as we speak,” she said. “Remain calm.”
Heart racing, I tried to think what assorted unguents I had smeared on my suit that might deter it from swallowing me: stinky tree pod goo, gland acid. I had yet to find and kill the dirt-tongue that Raxkarax told me about, or I would have that on me, too.
“What is the acidity of the water pools?” I said, glancing at the countless circles filled to the brim with water, plants and creatures.
“Mass spectrometer data indicates a pH of 6.2,” she said. “However, there are other toxins present.”
“Worse than that mud pit Esra hid in?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“Not wonderful, but my suit could handle it,” I said. “Can you tell how deep they go?”
I wasn’t clear if they were tunnels or channels or if the tree roots stayed above the surface. By now, the serpent’s head was a meter away from mine, but still angled so its eye could stare me down. At least, I thought it was an eye. Upon closer inspection, I wondered. I couldn’t see the seam of its closed mouth. It didn’t blink. I didn’t see nostrils. Or scales.
Its skin was smooth like a salamander’s and had a mucus layer. Head shaped like a leaf with its nostril-less nose at the point and its eyes at the broadest part, I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a plant. What if its long neck and head were, in fact, an aggressive pistil?
What if it dragged its prey down into the water, not so it could open up its mouth and swallow it whole, but because the … the honeycombed water pools were actually … phytotelmata?
The head drew closer, its eye unmoving while the head roved up and down, assessing me as possible food.
Recalling all the little worlds I’d seen in each small pool, knowing what I knew about the acid levels and toxins, it made perfect sense.
Phytotelmata were the basins of collected rainwater in carnivorous plants or tree stumps. They were usually in miniature scale, so teeny tiny crustaceans or frogs could be found populating them. But if this entire region was one big phytotelma …
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
Pulse thudding in my ears, I watched the serpent retreat the way it came, skimming its head past me and rising up only to withdraw with a slip and quiet splash into one of the water pools.
“It is advisable you leave the area ASAP,” VELMA said.
“Agreed,” I said, eyeing the hole into which the serpent, or pistil, or vine, had disappeared. Muscles screaming in protest, I rose to standing. Praying it wouldn’t shoot out and grab me, I leaped into a run as if from a sprinter’s block, and tore along the path, passing the pools and lunging into the overgrowth of trees and shrubs where curtains of black moss hung from every branch.
I was ready to take my chances with the easy monsters. Like the agothe-faxl.
My run stalled by the preponderance of huge, tangled roots punctuated by mud puddles, I climbed up and over the impossible terrain, breaths coming in painful gasps through chapped lips. A headache pounded behind my eyes, and I realized I’d reached the danger zone of dehydration. How long had it been since I’d had a drink?
My mind was fuzzy. Climbing across big roots repeatedly, my thoughts clouded.
VELMA’s route shone bright in my IntraVisor, but my path was far from an even one. Each thick brown root seemed bigger than the last. Parting black moss with my hands, the risk of meeting a new frightening predator grew with the light. Was it dark under this canopy or was I losing consciousness?
“Joan, you’ve reached critical dehydration,” VELMA’s voice came through the fog. “Remove your helmet immediately and open the red pouch found in your right thigh pocket.”
