Trapped on Predator Planet, page 14
Covering my mouth with a hand, I watched, helpless, as Raxkarax writhed, and I sank to the dirt beside him.
“The hunters report excruciating pain when asked but otherwise do not broadcast what they endure,” VELMA continued. “I hypothesize centuries of rigorous training and emotional suppression are responsible for the stoic way in which they suffer the change. Of the three hunters I’ve observed survive the physiological phenomenon, all three appear to enjoy normal health and no ill effects. Additionally, activity in their limbic systems suggests elevated mood, decreased susceptibility to depressive reactions and increased response and reaction times.”
“So overall, it’s a good thing,” I’d said, wincing when Raxkarax doubled and squeezed his knees to his chest. I had wanted to touch him, calm him, but we barely knew each other, and I didn’t know if it would help or distract him. Itching to reach out, I found myself biting my nails and folding my arms, anxiously watching his ordeal.
“It appears so, medically speaking,” VELMA had said. “However, I’m no expert in Theraxl anatomy and my sample size is small.”
“Fair enough,” I’d said. “And there’s nothing we can do?”
“The best we can do is protect the perimeter. If any dangerous predators appear, I may use the nearest SLO nosecone’s LASER scatter shot capability to eliminate threats.”
“Good idea,” I said, searching the vast area for movement but finding nothing. Instead, all I saw was the wide alley of downed trees indicating what could only be the path of a tornado or straight-line winds. Having seen the rotation on VELMA’s weather map, it must have been a tornado.
Looking back at Raxkarax’s face, I had watched his still form. It looked like the pain had stopped. After a few minutes he sat up, looked around in a daze, then grabbed his helmet.
Watching him now as he scouted a trail into the black woods, I couldn’t believe how fast he healed. Both he and VELMA explained it had to do with physiology and the strange connection with the Shel creatures.
But injured as he was, I was still not prepared for the infatuation I would feel when I saw his face up close and personal.
With a strong jaw, mouth full of sharp teeth, hawkish nose and dark, pronounced eyebrows, everything shouted ‘Other’. But then his black eyes rimmed with red that glowed in the half-light of the moss-laden woods struck me with their intensity.
When he looked at me, it felt like he saw into my soul. And that was when he was faint from loss of blood and exhaustion.
This morning when we ate rations, split a HemoSupp, and packed supplies, every time he glanced at me, I’d wanted to melt into the ground. I didn’t feel judged, however. Or criticized. Or found wanting.
No.
I felt—molten.
Catching him staring at me for the third time in as many minutes this morning, I finally asked. “What are you looking at?”
“Not what,” he said, his voice deep and rich. “Who.”
That was it. He didn’t have to say a single other word, and I was transformed from an exobotanist on the cusp of an amazing discovery into a twitterpated, tongue lolling Raxkarax addict, alternating between wanting to preen and present my best self to falling into a crack in the ground because I couldn’t endure the scrutiny.
“VELMA has chosen a different route that should avoid the swamp serpent’s haunt,” he said, turning to face me. I had noticed how he gentled his voice when he spoke to me. Learning I had to go back into the Agothe-Fatheza had been a gut punch.
But Rax had sung to me, and when I woke with the first sun rise, I’d found him standing guard, watching over me. I didn’t want to go back, but we had to if we wanted to leave it for good. And if I was going in, at least he would be by my side.
He was immense, filling my vision if I stood too close. But I didn’t want to be too far. In fact, we had developed an unspoken tether, and even without touching, we were never farther apart than two meters.
If I moved ahead to inspect a curious growth, he was one step behind. When he surged ahead to break trail, I followed at his heels, frequently checking our six and the skies, though the thick trees shielded us in most areas.
At the sun’s zenith, we found a dry tree hollow empty of suspicious snaking vines or blinking glowing eyes and enjoyed a brief rest. It was the last place I could remove my helmet for a drink, and VELMA showed us a couple different routes we could try to skirt the worst of the thick haze.
“I will carry you, if it comes to it,” he said, looking into the wood instead of at me.
“If it comes to what?” I asked.
“You become dehydrated from lack of water. Though we supplied your water bladder this morning, the Agothe-Fatheza is vast. I will carry you and run, that you will not suffer thirst longer than is needful."
I could argue. Play the strong, independent woman card.
“Okay,” I said with a nod. See? Addict.
“Tell me again about the swamp serpent,” he said when we resumed our trek. I wore the Tree Thief pelt he’d prepared for me before we met.
“Well, I had thought I might run into it in the bog where my pod fell in,” I said. “And I did, but I didn’t get a good look at it and thankfully I got away. It wasn’t until much farther, past the thin strip of land with the grasses and mud pits, when I came to the place with the honeycombed water holes where I got a closer look. It was about this close to me.” I showed him with my hand.
“No,” he said, shock in his voice. “You jest.”
“I promise you, I don’t!” I said. “If you look at the circles, the tiny ponds, they’re the exact width of that thing.” I shivered. “It popped up out of nowhere. I never dreamed it would fit, but I think the surface is deceptive.”
“In what way?” he asked, vested in my account. It thrilled me to talk about it.
“From above, it looks like, I don’t know, a bunch of individual puddles outlined by tree roots,” I said.
“Ik, I have seen this place,” he said. “Go on.”
“But when the serpent rose up, and I saw how perfectly it fit, I wondered if it wasn’t just one large lake. A bowl with a stroopwaffel on top of it.”
“I don’t know this word,” he said.
“Um, a screen? A sieve? A lid,” I said with a shrug. “I contemplated jumping in and trying to evade it underwater.”
“I am pleased you did not,” he said, casting me a quick glance with his intense eyes.
I am. Not. An addict.
“Well, once I started getting a close look at the serpent, I realized it didn’t have any of the usual characteristics of a typical snake. Not that the creatures of your world are exactly typical, but I did see the agothe-talaza which was a fair comparison.”
“Indeed.”
“So, not seeing the scales, or a mouth, or a nose, and realizing how closely it resembled the pistil of a flower, it got me thinking. If a pistil was that size, how big would the flower have to be? And I remembered you telling me about the Queen’s Goblet, and it all clicked into place.”
“You are a scientist of plant life?” he asked.
“Yes. Twenty-some odd years, now.”
“I would explore the stars,” he said, his voice subdued, and something in his tone, his posture, his hesitance, spoke to me.
I wondered how to respond. My gut told me he had just shared a secret. From what I understood of the Theraxl, there was a decided hierarchy and clearly defined roles. Star Explorers was not numbered among them.
“How long have you wanted to do that?” I asked, reverence tempering my voice.
“Since I was but a youngling,” he said. “But of course, I soon learned not to voice my desires in front of anyone.”
“Not anyone at all?” I asked.
“No,” he said with a small laugh. “Not until you.”
Running two strides to catch up, I grabbed his hand with both of mine and looked up at him.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I think the stars are beautiful, and I feel lucky I’ve gotten to travel between a few of them.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Mm. You have,” he said. “If I touch you, then I have touched the stars and traveled farther than any Theraxl since the sister planets were born.”
He squeezed my hand and released it, looking forward at the trail.
Heart racing, I pressed against my chest when he wasn’t looking, trying to calm my breaths. If he touched me. Could I? Could I let him touch me more than holding hands?
We passed through the devastation caused by the bugs, and I remembered the night spent listening to their crunching mandibles and reliving the memory of David’s death, or more accurately, David’s life with me.
The biggest mistake I’d made with David was denying his bids for connection. Big or small, some wounded part of me shunned those bids until David must have dreaded asking, suspecting (often rightly) that I would refuse.
I wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. But if I was … I swallowed. Raxkarax would be my first and only choice. He’d shared something personal with me. Vulnerable as it made me feel, I would share something, too.
“I cried for the first two weeks after I landed here,” I said. “VELMA is the only one who knows that. And now you.” I gave a half-laugh.
“Why do you laugh?” he said.
“Ah, I don’t know,” I said, another nervous laugh escaping my lips. “I guess it’s emotion trying to come out. I’m not—I’m not good with emotions, to be honest.”
“Perhaps your fear attempts to camouflage itself with humor,” he said after a moment. “In this way, your fear hopes to evade predators. This is a sound strategy if one is trapped on Certain Death.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I said, brows furrowed, and lips pursed as I stewed about it. “But maybe not so good if you’re trying to become friends with someone.”
“Hm, maybe not,” he said, and we stopped talking.
I didn’t know about him, but I was thinking about friends and fear and camouflage and of course, death. But maybe a little about life. And heart mates.
Chapter 35
Raxkarax
Did Joan feel the pull between us? I didn’t notice at first, but as night fell over the Agothe-Fatheza, it seemed a thread drew me to Joan, and she to me. We’d traveled for zatiks, and while I dared dream of lying beside my heart mate in a cocoon of our own making, I feared the denizens of the region.
Consulting VELMA’s map, we debated which path to take.
“If we stay to the right,” she said, “we can avoid being ambushed.”
“But it adds more time spent in the noxious fumes of the region,” I said. “Permit me to carry you now. I’ll run through the night and get us that much closer to the southern border.”
“You ran through the night once before and look where it got you,” she said, concern etched in her face when she looked up at me. I’d replaced my helmet when the gases grew too pungent so she could not see my eyes. I took her hand before I could check myself, giving it a soft squeeze.
“I would do so again,” I said. “Even now.”
She leaned forward. “But you don’t need to now. Let’s keep to the area already devoured by the za-ronaxl. Please.”
When I studied her eyes, I saw the fear she tried to hide. The za-ronaxl bugs. Of course. She had spent a terror-filled night with those fearsome insects. Staying in the desolated region meant less enticement should they arise again. With nothing to tempt them to eat, they would stay where the bog was abundant.
“Very well,” I said. “We hike amidst the desolation. And I reserve the right to carry you if I deem it appropriate.”
“Deal,” she said and stuck her hand out. I looked at it, but her glove remained empty.
“Do you require something?” I asked.
Face flushing, she laughed. “Oh, it’s a cultural—”
Alarms blared in my helmet accompanied by VELMA’s assured voice.
“Take cover, foreshocks detected. Earthquake imminent.”
Pulling Joan into my arms at last, I cradled her body next to mine and looked about, wishing for a decent shelter. Running deep into the desolation where no debris nor trees nor boulders could tumble and fall upon us, I chose a flat area devoid of pools or pits consisting of churned up mud. The ground upended under my feet, and I fell, locking my armor so that Joan would not be crushed.
It seemed the soil groaned in pain, and we cowered.
The quake ended after a rotik, but we lay still in the mud, fearful of its return.
“I think it’s safe now,” Joan said. She pulled away from me, and I did not imagine the reluctance I saw in her expression when she did so. Standing, she held out her hand to pull me up, and I smiled within my helmet. Nay, I smiled but my heart sang.
“I feel to run,” I said, challenging her, but she nodded and stepped into my arms, and I swung her up, cradling her body with my arms under her back and knees.
Running for veltiks, I covered as much ground as I dared, checking my life signs most prudently, but all was well. With our Tree Thief pelts and the cloak of night’s darkness, we bypassed several would-be contestants in battle. We had not time to trifle with them.
One and a half zatik before first dawn, I found the bole of a dead forest teeth tree and stomped to flush out the slimy theza-pax crawlers bedding in it. They scurried into the night, and I sat inside the carved-out trunk with my back against the side. Joan slept in my arms, and I knew the peace of companionship for a time.
“Keep watch, VELMA,” I said and drifted off.
“Joan Wu’s alarm,” she said much later when daylight streamed down inside the bole of the tree.
Lifting my head, I felt my empty lap and looked up to see Joan stretching just outside the trunk. Her form called to me, and I restrained myself from grasping her around the waist and pulling her to me; not to keep her safe this time.
Growling deep in my throat, I averted my eyes and rose to standing, working out the kink in my right leg.
“Good morning,” Joan said to me with a shy smile. “Thank you. VELMA tells me you covered a lot of ground. I still have half my water bladder.”
“This is good news,” I said. “However, we must find the dirt-tongue before traveling farther. From here onward, the bog grows deeper and harbors the noxious waste that would compromise our armor.”
“Oh, right,” she said, her brow furrowing.
We spent a zatik poking long branches into the dirt beneath trees until we each uncovered one at the same time. Our gazes locked, though she could not see my eyes. We laughed and held up our prey, and then I showed her how to use the gelatinous substance to coat her entire suit.
I let Joan set the pace this time, enjoying the view as she navigated up and over the expanding terrain. VELMA’s map veered away from the destruction and back into the bog where squat trees and tangled scrub created impenetrable bracken save for a precious few game trails. The ground here was eternally wet and every step we took sunk into sodden peat.
“What fuel do your ships use?” Joan asked, startling me out of my reverie staring at her round bottom.
“Fuel?” I asked. She had turned to look at me, and I was grateful for the baleful agothe-fax eyes carved into my helmet.
“Yes, like fossil fuels? Or nuclear energy? Quantum jumps?”
“Woaiquovelt,” I said, thinking about my ship.
“Wait,” she said. “The metal? The metal is your fuel?”
“Ik,” I said, frowning and sniffing the air. “We should move now.”
“Sure, let’s go,” she said, securing the pelt around herself until all I saw were slivers of her flight suit and helmet. “But you have to tell me more. Is the woaiquovelt radioactive? VELMA would have said something. VELMA?”
“The Geiger counter has never triggered around the Theraxl weaponry or ships,” VELMA said.
“Oh my God, it’s such a good thing IGMC can’t find this place,” Joan said from in front of me. “They would lose their minds over woaiquovelt.”
“And what is IGMC again? Esra’s place of work? And yours?” I said, trying to recall anything Esra or Pattee had ever mentioned about it.
“Yeah, InterGalactic Mining Conglomerate,” Joan said. “They cross galaxies in search of resources to mine, refine, and sell. They’re also Earth’s largest employer.”
“Earth?” I asked. Listening to Joan’s conversation taught me more than just her personal history, but about her inner self. What interested her, what troubled her, what she loved. I wanted to learn everything.
“My home planet,” she said, her voice softer. “In some ways, Ikthe reminds me of it. Earth has tropical jungles and rainforests with colorful, exotic, and dangerous creatures. Huge, gaudy flowers that smell like corpses, a tree that if you stand under it in the rain you could get acid burns, amphibians with poisonous skin ….”
“Truly, this Earth would feel just like home,” I said.
She laughed. “Somehow, I suspect you would think it’s as tame as Ikshe.”
I grunted. I’d seen another flash of white. Being attacked by an agothe-fax the other day, I would not be surprised if a pack of pazathel-nax wolves had found its way into the bog.
“What was that noise?” she asked, stopping.
“Ik,” I said in a whisper. “I heard it as well. I thought I saw something white.”
“According to the information packets that VELMA downloads every time an SLO nosecone passes by, Amity made friends with a devil dog,” Joan said. “Those are white.”
Pausing, I cocked my head.
“How is such a thing possible?” I asked, peering into the growth at our left. Our current path necessitated our attention as it consisted of periodic pits. I wasn’t convinced the swamp serpent couldn’t make its way underground and traverse hidden tunnels, shooting up one of these narrow pits and pulling us into the depths of the Agothe-Fatheza.
