Hidden in Predator Planet, page 5
Watching the recording play out, I remembered thinking that the ridiculous attempt of a rescue must be subdued.
“End it,” I had uttered, my own voice brittle and chill as an ice sword.
“Which is it?” My sister had said in exasperation. “The hunter or the alien? I cannot subdue them both.” Before I could answer, the alien spoke, its voice loud in the clearing.
“You will subdue neither of us,” it said with a command of our language that had surprised and disturbed me. “I have a weapon trained on you that will drop you in a jotik.”
The farce of this tiny being threatening war had brought a smile to my lips until BoKama’s sight-capture caught the flash of determination in its dark eyes. Its gaze pierced into my heart, and I thought I saw the Goddesses’ unsmiling faces for a half-jotik, but it held its weapon aloft and pointed it straight at me through the lens and spoke. “And if I have to kill BoKama, then I’m coming for you next, Ikma Scabmal Kama.”
Thunderstruck, I couldn’t push air past my lips to demand its death at once. In the absence of my command, BoKama had taken her own counsel.
“I’m laying Raxkarax down,” she said, and her headpiece lens showed her placing the Iktheka at her feet. The view changed as she rose back up until the small being stood centered in the sight-capture.
Light reflected off its armor, and I was reminded of the BoKama’s Answer Dream. Five streaking stars of light. Would the Goddesses have given me the same dream had I accepted my responsibility? I took the five stars to be the hunters I’d sent to their deaths, and considering I’d stumbled across the first dark-skinned alien only rotiks after the Lottery Five were exiled, I accepted that hapless creature as my due.
Hatred singeing my narrowed eyes as I stared at the second alien, the screen flashed with a brain-piercing blue-white light, and then the signal had blacked out.
“BoKama!” I had shouted into the comm, but there was no answer.
Fury had strengthened my weak limbs and howling rage had enlivened my breaths.
It allowed me to attend to the dark-skinned alien once more.
I didn’t remember passing the rooms or traversing the stairs and corridors. Standing in front of the limp form, I had spoken to it.
“Look at me when I enter the room,” I’d said. It had tried to raise its head, and my anger receded. “Defenseless trespasser,” I whispered and knelt before it, lifting its chin with my clawed fingers. “I do not know from whence you came, but you did not travel alone, did you?”
I could almost see the clockworks in its mind as it tried to decipher my language. A pink swollen tongue peeked from between its chapped full lips. Would it speak?
A coarse whisper hinted it was ready to speak.
Biting my lip, I looked at the maikshe’s potions. I had come in haste, not bothering to summon the healer to join me.
Dipping the ladle into the pot of fresh water, I decided a splash would aid the alien in speech without rewarding it too dearly.
The sound of its swallow echoed in the quiet room.
Leaning close, I had whispered. “You’ll answer now? Try again. I’m listening.”
“Eat. Kathe,” it had said in Theraxl.
Hissing, I had struck its face without thought, battering it until its eyes closed and it slumped further, its shoulders straining to carry its weight.
These many moons had it been listening to my conversations with my healer and dissecting our language.
Spent, I had hobbled backward a step. If my BoKama was dead, so too was this alien. And I would fly to Ikthe myself and hunt the other one to ground and tear it limb from limb.
But, as was true on most days, fatigue had overtaken me.
Limping my way back to my chambers, I had passed no one in the halls, or perhaps they had hidden at the sound of steps, fearing their Queen. I’d done a grave disservice to my own people, but when the Goddesses gifted me with the dark alien, I knew I’d been forgiven. My punishments and abuses could be inflicted on the vermin that dared invade my fortress and defile the Goddess Garden and I could release my own people from my reign of terror. I’d fallen asleep, safe in the knowledge of the Goddess’s blessings upon me.
Memories faded and at the sight-capture’s end, I retreated to my chamber where a new sachet waited on my dressing table, and I snatched it to my nose with a grateful inhalation. The madness crouched at the corners of my vision, but all would be well. When BoKama sent word she returned with a prisoner, I’d felt relief that she was yet alive. But our audience in the throne room with the prideful iktheka left me with a foul taste in my mouth.
Lying atop my bedcovers, I let my mind drift over the sight-capture. Something troubled me about it aside from the startling presence of a second alien. Something about names. Sleep settled over me, a cloudy cushion of relief. I would go over it again if I couldn’t seize upon the troublesome thought on my own.
10
CeCe
78 Day Cycles Ago—Morning
Gasping for breath, I sat up and rested my hands on my thighs. As far as bouts of inedible food went, it wasn’t as bad as others I’d experienced. But still. The tuber had tasted mild and earthy, like a potato crossed with a mushroom. And I’d been hungry. And so, I hadn’t waited, but rather ate the entire handful, like a rookie.
Hours later, my body complained as the last vestiges of tuber molecules left my mouth. Rinsing and spitting, I staggered to my feet. It was time to look for civilization.
Burying the evidence of my violent rejection of interspecies cuisine, I left the tiny beach and entered the shaded bower of the path.
Long neglected by the looks of the overgrowing branches, I knew it was an official path because of the stones placed along the way. The risers were higher than human steps; my body shivered a little to realize the race on this planet must be taller and bigger than humans.
I walked for hours, sipping from my water canister and nibbling from my last ration bar. Oh, to have chosen an EEP! But no, each risk I’d taken had been calculated to within an inch of its life: correction, to within an inch of my life. I’d had to do it the way I did. No regrets.
Having worked for IGMC most of my adult life, I’d visited my share of alien planets. Unless this planet’s wildlife came out at night, and I’d slept through two of them here, there was a surprising lack of fauna in the thick woods. An occasional rodent like I’d seen on the beach would dart across my path, but other than that and a flurry of wings from a startled bird, it was eerie and still in these woods.
I supposed it could be private property where they had animal populations monitored. Or a hunting grounds where game would be introduced for specific events. I wouldn’t know until I’d met the inhabitants, of whom I was beginning to doubt their existence.
Taking another sip from my canister, a flash in the distance caught my eye. Scrambling to recap my water, I rushed forward to see the path emptied into a vast field of swaying grain, and on the other side of it, a huge fortress rose up like a ship. The flash was sunlight on a window, and I couldn’t help the elation bubbling up in my chest.
The path curved around the sea of grain, and I kept looking at the distant fortress and its imposing black rock and jutting battlements.
Swallowing, my steps faltered.
Yes, I’d needed to make the emergency landing. One planet away from the EEPs, from Joan, had seemed manageable. Wise, even, compared to flying another lightyear to whatever other planet SCOOBE had chosen.
But another planet might as well be another galaxy since I didn’t have a ship. Not only did I not have a ship, but I didn’t have a guarantee that this civilization’s technological advancement included interplanetary travel.
I had to sit down.
Head between my knees, I listened to the whoosh of the wind stirring the grain less than a meter away; I could reach out my hand and sift the stalks if I wanted.
Letting the deep shuddering breath work itself out, I sobbed for a solid minute, and then sniffling, laid on my back on the path and stared up at the blue sky. The other planet looked like a half-moon, mocking me.
It was possible I’d fucked up my own life to an irretrievable level.
But those four EEPs were all going to land on the Class A, and VELMA would make certain they landed on the same continent. Joan was going to live. So were the others.
Right now, I was fine, but the huge black fortress suggested the race of people on this planet was accustomed to warfare, and they may not take kindly to a visitor from outer space.
I could take my chances living in the wild, except for the astonishing lack of wildlife. And the fact the very first thing I tried to eat made me vomit.
Banking on my mama’s firm belief in the innate goodness of all peoples, I was hoping to get help here.
Sitting up, I let my fingers brush against my sidearm. My mama believed in people’s goodness; Daddy did not. It was his gun I wore strapped to my thigh, and the confidence it gave me to stand up, brush the dust off my ass, and follow the path that stretched around the field and approach the imposing and stark rock edifice.
11
Raxthezana
Present Day
The tableau I spied through the Queen’s chamber doorway gave me pause, even while my search demanded haste.
BoKama held the Queen’s braids away from her face as she coughed violently into the bowl BoKama held. The Queen whispered something, and BoKama rubbed the Queen’s back until the coughs subsided. BoKama’s own shoulders shook from her quieter coughs, and the illness arrested me. How long had she been sick?
Had BoKama contracted the Queen’s illness? I’d been in close quarters with BoKama. Would I fall ill next? For the longest time, the Ikma’s behavior deteriorated in a way that would indicate madness. But now she was frail and sickly, and with the BoKama showing similar illness, I worried.
Shaking myself, I slipped past the doorway and eased through the rest of the long hall. Finding the tower stairs, I raced up until the stairs ended at a narrow room flanked by the tower walk. From the exterior walkway, lined by a rock wall, I found the stairs known as the tower passageway.
The wind, just as the Queen warned, did indeed blow with ferocity and channeled its power and chill down the steps as if it were water pouring.
My steps hastened, and my breaths grew shallow. Not from the vicious cold, but from the tightness I felt in my chest, as if my heart strained from exertion.
Sweat greased my palms within my gloves.
What if I was too late? What if I couldn’t help her?
Grimacing, I descended faster, hurling my unhelpful thoughts out of my head like dirty water.
The tower passageway comprised hundreds of steps leading down the side of the fortress but was hidden behind the massive exterior wall. Constructed to ease the travel of the ruling Queens during times of war, it seldom saw use from what I understood. I wondered who’d traveled it last; it appeared swept and maintained.
I saw the dark doorway ahead, the gaping maw leading to the war room on the left and the bank of dungeon cells on the right. Directly through the section was a second set of stairs leading to the temple.
Running now, I would have explored the cells, but I thought I heard a noise coming from the war room. I stopped and listened.
Nothing.
Facing the great wooden door leading to the cells, I pushed against it when I heard the noise again.
Spinning, I approached the war room. A panel glowed where the Queen’s hand should rest.
“VELMA?” I said, my voice harsh in the still air.
Sounds in my helmet crackled, but the panel flickered, and I pushed against the door. It opened inward, and the image I saw emblazoned itself into my mind with the power of a sun-blade impaling a serpent’s head.
12
CeCe
78 Day Cycles Ago—Midday
Craning my neck, I tried to determine how high the fortress’s tower reached. I’d still seen no sign of the people who lived here. From what I could surmise, I’d found the “backyard” of the fortress. Whoever harvested the grain must keep their tools elsewhere, and this side of the enormous building was nothing but solid black rock. No doors or windows, no gates or tunnels. Impenetrable, as a fortress should be.
Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes. I wasn’t doing well.
My ration bars were gone, and so was my water. I hadn’t found a water source. My marathon swim had depleted most of my energy, and the poisonous tubers had taken the rest.
With heavy-lidded eyes, I stared at the path that wound its way around the fortress and started walking again.
Twenty minutes into my walk, I found a break in the fortress wall. Standing back, I looked up and saw alien symbols transcribed over the doorway. It was arched, built right into the fortress wall, and led into a courtyard where I heard trickling water.
Looking around, I didn’t see anyone and stole inside. The fountain boasted a statue of two impossibly tall women with angular features and notable fangs. One stood taller than the other and pointed at the sky while interlocking the other woman’s arm with her own. The second woman bore a sweet smile and poured from a huge ladle, the water spilling eternally from its bowl and splashing into a rock. Stepping closer, I couldn’t see a hole drilled into the rock, or a pool. Some trick of the light or technology allowed the rock to absorb the spill of water without visible means.
Fascinated by the statue’s beauty, I stared for some time until my stomach growled.
Heat flushed up my neck when I looked around again and stuck my canister under the water’s stream. I hadn’t trespassed in a very long time and disliked the feeling.
Letting my canister decontaminate the water, I admired the rest of the courtyard. Overgrown with foliage, riotous flowers, thorny brambles and even some trees of dubious origin springing up through cracks, I could still see the bones of a beautiful haven. Benches had been carved out of the walls, and trellises invited the exploration of passages leading deeper into the courtyard grounds.
Drinking my fill, I stepped away from the fountain and stared at the large door festooned with an unruly purple vine. The two same women, I presumed, were carved onto the door, the shorter one’s hand made to look like it was resting on the knob. Tilting my head with a frown, I thought I remembered a dream featuring two women, but the memory was tattered and fleeting.
The responsible thing, the respectful thing to do in this scenario, was to leave the courtyard, follow the trail all the way around the fortress, however long that may be, and throw myself on the mercy of the people who ruled here.
I took another step back from the fountain, my eyes never leaving the knob.
Did it turn? My gaze darted to the fanged women smiling on the door, welcoming. Inviting.
What in the ever-living hell was I thinking?
There were protocols. Rules. Guidelines, for God’s sake.
Shaking my head of the fog brought about by dehydration, I turned on my heel and left the enclosed garden, mystified by my own carelessness.
The water refreshed me, and I took to the path again, hastening my steps. The sooner I got this over with, the better.
I heard shouts and chatter a few minutes later, and I stopped, searching for the source. The field of grain had stretched like an endless ocean, but now I could see its border where canopied stalls stood and groups of large people milled around, laughing and talking, holding up swaths of fabric or shining metal devices. Squinting, I thought at first that the suns shining through the fabric canopies made their skin look green, but I was wrong. They all were shades of green, from the pale shade found at the root of a water reed to the darker hue reminiscent of a jungle overstory and everything in between.
They were beautiful.
The women, or those whom I assumed identified as females, tended to be taller than the barrel-chested men, and slender. The men were bulkier, wider.
Hunger rose up in me like a mako shark, and I ducked back on the path and panted, leaning against the cool black stone. Not physical hunger.
Hunger for the company of people.
But I couldn’t just waltz up to everyone and announce my presence.
Part of IGMC’s training was familiarity with the Intergalactic Unification of Races. While none of us were specifically trained in diplomacy, the nature of our work meant a greater-than-usual chance of stumbling across alien races. Most of them were already acquainted with the IUR, and if not charted, still made aware due to their own trade routes and interspecies relations.
In the event of an uninitiated First Contact, I was to make myself known to the local government, endure most precautions they would have in place, and submit, showing myself to be a non-threat.
I received my booster back in the orbiter, so hopefully I wasn’t bringing any viruses that would wipe out the local population.
Any weapons in my possession were to be used as the complete last resort but were allowed to remain unidentified as weapons to the new race, for my own protection. Of course, most alien races that had similar hand configurations as humans and Qhudret also had weapons resembling guns, so my sidearm may be obvious.
Massaging my temples, I took deep breaths. It was best to avoid making scenes in large groups of people, just another of the countless precautions the IUR published in its materials. I would wait until the crowd of people dispersed and then find the main entrance to the fortress. So far, no one had made use of the path I was on, but if I were discovered by a single person, it might grease the wheels of being taken to the governing body.
I folded my arms and rubbed my hands over my biceps, feeling antsy and nervous. I refused to consider the fact that the people looked caught somewhere between medieval England and the roaring 2420s when new tech competed with old ways for supremacy in the global markets.
