by Athena Storm
Debris rockets about the cabin and the once tight cluster of figures tumbles free, opening a wide swath of air to flood my lungs. The Commander curls into a ball to protect me as much as possible, and we bash around the space wildly. There are no screams now – only grunts and the sound of bodies thudding against metal.
With a resounding crunch, we grind into the ground and skid to a halt. Everything that has been flying about in chaos now slams to the side of the ship in a jumbled heap. A nasty buckling sound rips into my ears as a whole side of the vessel peels back, sending crew members spinning out onto rocks and into trees.
The commander has gripped a girder and is straining to keep the two of us from whistling off into more danger.
And, suddenly it’s over.
We’ve stopped and the sunlight pours in along with floods of fresh air. The day outside is pleasant and serene, pitiless and heedless of the roiling destruction that has just cratered into its midst.
“Are you alive, woman?”
His grip has slackened, and I can feel that I’ve managed to escape only slightly bloodied.
“I am.”
And then everything goes black.
My eyes peel open with sun glaring down on me. My mouth is sticky and dry, and I can tell that my skin is getting puffy and red.
I’m lying on dirt and a soft, moss-like turf. Adjusting to the glare, the ship sits inert just to my side. The Vakutan Commander steps out of it and seems to scent the air. His gaze turns to me.
“You’re awake. We need to move.”
Blinking against the day, I shield my eyes as he skirts the immediate perimeter.
“How long was I out?”
“Not long,” he says, “I just laid you down and went back to search for survivors.”
“How many are there,” I ask. He looks at me hard.
“None.”
I sit bolt upright and the fog in my brain clears with a snap.
“We’re it?”
“Yes,” his voice is flat. Cold. “We need to move. A team of Coalition cleaners will be here soon to burn out whoever might be left. We should be gone when they arrive.”
“No.” The word races out of my throat. “There have to have been other Alliance allies nearby. If they come, we need to be by the wreck if there’s any hope of rescue.”
“No rescue,” he grunts, “we have to seek defensible shelter. I’m not asking your opinion, I’m informing you of the situation.”
Everything within me bristles at his pig-headed insistence. All my studying of his race, including some live-time study couldn’t prepare me for the obstinacy of this moment.
“Alright, so, if there’s no chance of Alliance rescue, at the very least the IHC will be sending a pod to scan. They wouldn’t just ignore an entire communication feed going silent. Someone will come for me. For the both of us.”
“I have already told you, human woman, this is not a discussion. This is a plan of action. The Coalition ship was in better shape than ours, and they always travel in packs, now let’s go!”
“If all you intend to do is shout orders at me, then why even bother saving me? Why not leave me on my own ship? Why go out of your way to protect me as we tearing out of the sky? You must have had any number of friends under your command, so why me?”
He looks down at me exasperated.
“Instinct,” is the best he can offer. “It was a split-second decision to pull you off of that ship. I protected you because you needed protecting. Human women are known to be good caretakers, and I thought you would be an asset to our team.”
Good caretakers? Everything in me explodes with rage. I’ve earned four doctoral degrees in extremely specialized fields, I’ve distinguished myself as a formidable strategist in scientific study, and this brute reduces my identity to ‘human female caretaker?’ I could devour him where he stands and spit the bones out whole.
“If you think for one second that you can order me around simply because of my species and my gender, you need to disabuse yourself of that notion right now. I have never once bowed to the stubborn insistence of men of my own species, thank you very much, and I’ll be goddamned if I’ll take it from some stinking, ridge-faced Vakutan.”
It’s a hell of a speech, and regardless of whether or not he saved my life, I’ll stand by it. What good is my life if I just have to walk around owing it to this swine?
He heaves his shoulders in exhales sharply though his nose. His eyes set in his rigid face and he glares at me hard.
“Fine.” The word comes in a brusque snort. Victory settles in my gut and I turn to look for a place in the shade to wait for the IHC to find us. Before I can find a spot, my feet jerk off the ground as his meaty harm hefts me into the air.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
With an unceremonious flip, he tosses me over his shoulder and begins to lug me away into the trees. Outrage surges through me. Looking down at his back, I hail blows against his thick hide, hurling invective with every step.
The steaming wreckage begins to disappear between the trees. Looking at the twisted heap, it’s a wonder we survived.
My captor is moving at a surprising pace, and I rake my nails across his back and do all I can to dig my knees into his chest. If he thinks he can cart me off to some cave like a primate, I’m going to make damned sure it’s not a pleasant trip for him.
If this is being saved, I don’t want any part of it.
Seven
Duric
Our scientists maintain that this moon features no intelligent life, other than myself, and—maybe—the human female. That’s probably a good thing, because I don’t want anyone else to hear the awful things she has to say about me.
We Vakutan are a proud people. After being subjugated and exploited by the Shorcu and the Ataxia Coalition for so long, it’s only natural that we would be fierce defenders of our own reputation. We wish to do whatever we can to throw off the old notions that we are a backward, savage race only fit to do the killing for more ‘evolved’ species.
As a race created in Shorcu test tubes in Shorcu laboratories, forging our own identity is important to us. Our Trident Alliance allies were once somewhat skeptical that we could integrate with the other species, but those fears have been allayed by our loyal service, fierce battle prowess, and total dedication to the destruction of the Ataxia coalition and their ilk.
I’m proud to be a Vakutan, but the struggling, snarling creature on my shoulder is doing her level best to severely damage my sense of worth.
“You micro brained, primordial troglodyte. Release me at once. At once, do you hear me? Are you able to comprehend spoken language through all of those ridges on your skull?”
I ignore her jibes, or try to, but she’s been doing this for miles.
“You probably inhale the odiferous emanations of your own flatulence, you insufferable cretin.”
It takes me a moment to puzzle that one out, but I take it to mean that she thinks I like smelling my own farts.
“Silence, human, or I’ll rip out your tongue.”
“I’ll masticate the tip of your simian digits if you so much as try. Set me down. I will not suffer this indignity.”
I grit my teeth and growl in frustration.
“Can you not see that this is for your own good?”
“My own good?” her fists pound into my back, which has become wracked with a low, dull ache from her constant strikes. “My own good? Are you sincerely this misogynistic, or just when faced with women of clearly superior intellect?”
“Misogyny?” She’s picked at a sore spot. While it’s true that female Vakutan usually tend to domestic issues, while males tend toward soldierly pursuits, we have granted equal rights to both sexes. After the oppression of the Shorcu, we have no intention of discriminating within our own species. “I admire and respect women. Except maybe for you.”
“That’s exactly what a misogynist would postulate. I have legs, you know.”
“Legs?” I ste
p over a patch of stiff vegetation as we continue on. The moon’s plant life seems innocuous for the most part, but no one has seriously studied the fauna here. Better safe than sorry.
“Limbs intended for ambulatory locomotion. Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth? Or are you just a milk tooth runt?”
I pause for a moment, my jaw falling slack. Her last insult had been in my native Vakutan, and was a particular put down that I had thought only my own people would use. When we are young, and still nursing, our teeth are translucent, fragile things. She has basically just called me an unweaned whelp.
“Don’t sully my language with your filthy human tongue.”
“Sully? The Vakutan language sounds like fetid sewage gushing out of rusted pipes. You’re lucky I bothered to learn your basic lexicon, let alone mastered your penchant for unvoiced bilabial fricatives.”
“Unvoiced bilabial fricatives?”
I set her down on her feet, a bit roughly. Now we’re standing on the edge of a rushing river, piscine creatures darting about beneath the waves. The sunlight splashes off their silver scales, leaving unusual patterns on the smooth underwater rocks.
My finger waves under the human woman’s nose.
“How could you say such a thing to me? I’ve never even looked at another man. Unvoiced bilateral frickasee indeed.”
Her face wrinkles with what could be amusement. If it is, it’s still derisive.
“You truly are just one step removed from a primordial troglodyte, aren’t you?”
I make a strangled grunt and wave my hand at her dismissively. This woman has made me so angry, I can barely think straight. I turn my back on her and face the river, trying to restrain the urge to pick her up and toss her right in.
Worried, I scan the horizon from where we’ve just come. A trail of smoke rises into the crisp, clean air, marking the spot of our crash. It will act like a beacon for any Coalition forces in the area. It’s a shame we’re on the run for our lives. This planet, untouched by modern machinery or manufacturing, has an intense but freshly clean smell. The air has a slight tang of ozone, and it really would be a pleasant place for a vacation if there weren’t so many Shorcu that needed slaying in the galaxy.
“We’ve only come two miles, if that.” I run my hand over my ridged face, utterly exasperated with both the woman and my abject failure. I tried to save the human freighter, and not only did I not succeed, I wound up crashing my own ship as well, and killing my entire crew. This is what I get for being bored with the routine assignment.
And all I have to show for my efforts is this sullen, insulting human woman who has made it her life’s work to make me miserable instead of showing gratitude.
“Good.”
I spin around and glare at the human woman.
“What do you mean, good?”
She crosses her arms over the admittedly distracting lumps on her chest and stares up at me without fear.
“I mean good. We won’t have far to hike back and wait for an IHC ship to rescue us.”
“Oh, not this again.” I cast my gaze to the skies. Ancestors, why am I be tested so by this harpy? “Going back to the crash site would be a massive mistake.”
“I disagree.”
“Well, I don’t give a shit if you disagree. Come here, we’ve rested long enough.”
I go to sweep her up on to my shoulder again, but she stays out of my reach. Her hands raise up in a defensive posture, and her eyes narrow to slits.
“Don’t you dare lay one of your misshapen, swollen digits upon my personage, you Svengali. I’m a yellow belt in karate.”
I don’t know what hue your garment braces have to do with fighting prowess in human culture, but I also don’t consider this woman much of a physical threat. However, it looks like I will have to knock her unconscious if I want to drag her off again. With how fragile human anatomy is, I don’t want to risk killing the sole survivor of the freighter’s destruction.
To my chagrin, I must handle things like an Alzhon, or a Pi’rell, or even a human would. I must use words.
“Look, woman…I mean, please understand me.”
Her eyebrows arch at the ‘please’ but she offers no other comment.
After a heavy sigh, I continue.
“We cannot remain next to the wreckage. Coalition cleaner crews are likely going to arrive a long time before your precious Interstellar Human Confederation will. If they find us, we will be killed, or worse yet, interrogated and then killed. I am simply trying to keep the two of us alive, and I…”
It take a great deal of effort not to vomit when I speak the next word.
“…apologize for treating you so roughly, and dismissively. Will you please accompany me in fleeing the crash site?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Her dark eyes, which I notice are most aesthetically pleasing, seem to focus on something distant, and her lips become a thin tight line.
“Okay. Thank you for your apology, and I think we should get going.”
“Really?” I can’t believe my words have worked so well. “I suppose you humans are susceptible to reasonable arguments after all.”
“Oh, I still think you’re full of shit.”
“What?”
“But I believe in that.”
I follow her pointing index digit to see a red smudge in the sky. As I stare intently, I make out enough details to recognize the Odex cruiser coming in for its own crash landing. They must have realized making for the moon was their only option.
“Let’s get moving.” I ignore the sharp tang of fear as we hike on toward an uncertain future.
Eight
Daphne
We’ve been climbing steadily for what seems like ages in near silence. I would almost count it as a reprieve if Doric weren’t wearing that smug look on his broad face. When we saw that Odex cruiser streaking across the sky to where we went down, he might as well have danced. The shit.
Regardless, I still maintain my reasoning was sound. Between the Alliance and the IHC, the chances of rescue were far higher than whatever burnout crew he was waiting for. It’s just pure dumb luck that he happened to be right. Even so, there’s a tiny part of me that’s glad we got well clear of there before those monsters came to finish us off.
Not that I can in any way condone his tossing me over his shoulder like some savage. When we finally reasoned it out, he made a series of valid points. But, if he had just made them in the first place, we could have avoided the whole humiliating scene.
It’s impossible to say how much time has passed, and I’m completely spent. The grade has been pretty steep at times, and several moments have found me scrambling just to keep Duric in view. My throat is parched, we don’t have anything to quench it with anyway, hand he refuses to stop to rest until we have found shelter.
You can say this for the Vakutan; they have stamina.
Or maybe it’s just pure, stubborn will.
“Could you slow down just a bit?” My exhaustion has gotten the best of my pride and I break the silence to beg a favor, “We’ve been at this for a century.”
“Is hyperbole common among you humans, or are you a particular creature of extremes?”
Is that a joke? It sounds dangerously like he’s making a joke at my expense. I snort in reply and when he speaks again, there’s a faint whiff of apology in his voice.
“I can carry you again if you want.”
“You can carry me when I’m dead.”
It’s a harder reply than I intend, but the sentiment holds. I won’t be lugged around like some kind of captive, or even less a trophy. To keep face, I suck it up and push harder to keep up with him.
“That’s more like it.” Duric has crested the ridge about ten paces ahead of me and stopped, fists balled up on his massive hips.
Coming up beside him, I stop short at the sight ahead. Maybe a quarter mile down into the valley, there’s a rocky pool with a waterfall pouring into it. Exhaustion be damned, I break into a hea
dlong run, letting the downhill momentum carry me in a zigzag pattern down through trees and over boulders.
I can hear Duric laughing behind me and the thumping of his heavy strides as he thunders down the hillside after me. Beating him to the water’s edge by a handful of steps, the tiny pride of my victory takes a back seat to the gulp of water I desperately need.
It’s cold, maybe a little metallic to the taste, but it’s just what I need in this moment. Handfuls of it splash on my face and over the back of my neck. It has the pleasant effect of making me feel marginally human again.
Clearly not one for decorum, Doric has flopped flat on his stomach and craned his neck over the rocks to slurp water up like an animal. His broad shoulders heave as he inhales gallons of the stuff, and I find myself momentarily mesmerized by the sheer size and muscularity of his body.
Easy, Daphne.
He rocks back into a seated position and gulps in huge breaths of air as thirstily as he had the water. The pool is relatively small, and I close my eyes and let the spray from the waterfall mist over my body to cool me down.
“Get out.”
“What?” I open my eyes to see him sitting at attention.
“Look.” He’s pointing at the waterfall. Just behind the crashing water, it looks like there’s an opening in the rocks.
“I’ll be damned.”
Duric springs to his feet and jogs over to the edge of the rock face the water is cascading over.
“It’s an opening, alright,” he calls back to me, and sets about climbing out against the crags looking for footholds. While I’m tempted to run over and follow suit, I take a moment to examine the hillside.
He has opted to come at the waterfall from the left, but from where I’m standing, I can see that the jumble of stones to the right may just offer easier access. Bounding around the pond, the way does seem broader, though it disappears directly into the pounding waterfall.
Getting wet won’t kill you, Daphne. You’ve been through worse today.