Vicky L. Holt – Tracked on Predator Planet
Copyright © 2020by Vicky L. Holt
Published by Eos Publishing
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First edition: 2020
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Cover art credit: May Dawney Designs
Editing credit: Eanna Robert at Penmanship Editing
Proofreading: Jenn Matthews
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1
“A hunter has no home.”
--Dersu Uzala by Vladimir Arsenyey
“Vector, set landing target to 41.6° N, 86.25° W and reduce entry speed by thirty-six percent,” I said. “Rotate dorsal fin thirty degrees clockwise.”
“It is inadvisable to override atmosphere entry programming,” Vector said. “Override command code required.”
Ignoring the computer’s well-intentioned advice, I gave it the override code instead. “Zero, black, green, red, five, yellow, one, six, three.”
“Changing course,” Vector said.
My belly dipped. According to Vector’s lecture right after I woke up a few hours ago, I hadn’t eaten, and yet I felt bile rise in my gullet. Swallowing with a grimace, I squeezed my eyes shut and counted breaths. It wasn’t slowing my heart rate, and neither was reciting the first hundred digits of pi. Even after programming the AI to awaken me prior to landing all the way back in the Lucidity, how could I prepare for the unfolding of a nightmare? I tried to control the uncontrollable, as evidenced by overriding the EEP’s entry into the atmosphere. But the truth was, I was terrified.
The view out my window was not designed for a pilot. That was fine because I wasn’t a pilot. I was a mechanic. Well, a mechanical engineer to be precise, but who was asking? As miles of tree-covered, jagged mountain ranges stretched beyond my view, I kept an eye on the navigation panel, as if by watching it I could influence every possible outcome of its landing. I drew a shuddering breath. If nothing else, I had scouted the terrain and chosen a prime spot to land, which was why I had overridden the reentry sequence.
The EEP X215 wasn’t technically designed to be piloted, but rather to make a safe and quick escape from a compromised fleet ship. But I designed and built her, so I knew my way around her controls. I had complete confidence in her technical properties. The onboard AI, however, was a different matter. I still questioned IGMC’s mandate for an AI to run an escape pod. At least I had studied all its capabilities and memorized action codes. If the Vector didn’t get in my way, we would manage just fine.
On the navigational panel, a grid showed weather patterns at my intended destination. I knew I needed to pay attention to ground effects, but I would trust the AI to get the landing right. Still not a pilot. “Vector, resume operational controls to land.”
“Initiating landing procedure. Brace for landing.”
There wasn’t much for me to do for the landing part. My double five-point harness had me trussed up like a pig for slaughter. My hands itched to snatch my CMM out of my pack, if only to distract me from the terrors of the unknown. I had a crap ton of calculating to do. Assuming my machine performed at peak. Sweaty fingers crossed, and my nostrils flared above my tight lips. Don’t panic.
Upon waking to the sounds of ocean waves and a spritz of peppermint and citrus just under three hours ago, I was lucky enough to see the huge green marble out the porthole with its tiny gray moon. A smaller, green planet was visible some distance away, as well as the breathtaking vision of a binary star duet.
Vector updated me on my health status, how long I’d been in cryosleep, and when I had asked, the numerical chance of being rescued from this planet. Basically, nil. So I began planning, even when I was entering the atmosphere at ungodly speeds.
I was about to be marooned on an uncharted planet with unknown wildlife and plant life. While the Vector would deploy transospheric nanosatellite arrays to gather data, I was at this planet’s mercy for the most basic survival. Just as for most of my life, I was expected to take care of myself. I licked dry lips.
The navigational panel switched from manual to AI-controlled, and I tried to make sense of the equations. I recognized the pitch, yaw, and roll gauges, but there were tasks the AI was doing that I wasn’t familiar with. I felt another tummy roll, this one accompanied by a severe inner-ear crisis, and rumbling from the thrusters that would give me a stable, if not smooth, landing. We landed with a jolt that took my breath away, but everything was in one piece.
I unbuckled my harness with shaking hands. A new clock was ticking. The countdown to discover the pitfalls of this new world. Was I ready? Did it matter if I was?
When the last buckle fell away, I stepped away from my seat and collapsed. The cryosleep drug wasn’t out of my system yet. I cursed and pulled myself up with my arms and dragged myself to the cargo panel. I retrieved my pack, prepackaged water bottles, and an MRE, but I wasn’t going to eat yet; I was stocking my duffel.
Never leave the house without water and at least one ration bar. Emergencies can’t be prevented, but they can be mitigated. And people always need water and food.
“Thanks, Dad.”
My pack already had my tool kit and my CMM, as well as the little solar panels that powered my watch, water filter, and machine matrix. And a final item: my little pouches of leaf tobacco, wild rice, and cornmeal, for offerings.
“Vector, download maps from the satellite array into my helmet’s memory.”
“Downloading.”
Vector sounded subdued, even though I knew AI didn’t have emotions. That’s what happened when I countermanded it to respond to voice commands. I didn’t need any more ‘it is inadvisable’ nonsense. The AI would be great if I needed maps and scanners, but I didn’t need a machine thinking for me.
I slapped a floor-level panel to pop it open.
Water pouches. An inflatable raft. A waterproof blanket. A firestarter. A pot.
The next panel revealed another tool kit with Allen wrenches, hex wrenches and zip ties. All useful stuff, but not quite what I was looking for.
Whenever I made it outside the pod, I needed fresh water, produce, and meat. Vector’s readouts showed plentiful oxygen, but I didn’t trust alien air. There was a reason IGMC had us read the ancient book The Andromeda Strain back in freshman year, as well as historical accounts of the coronavirus species jumps of the twenty-first century causing global pandemics. The preponderance of microbes on Earth itself lent to the logical assumption that alien life forms were most likely to exist as bacteria as anything else. Of course, the first contact had been a happy surprise for us Earthlings, when the humanoid race Shinterrans arrived in peaceful harmony. Years studying at IGMC taught us not all aliens were friendly, and the vids fro
m the Ciliak Wars sobered a lot of us students to reality. Nevertheless, microbes outnumbered intelligent life anywhere. My helmet was staying on every second outside my vehicle.
Tingling sensations in my knees and ankles signaled my lower limbs awakening.
I opened another panel.
“Jackpot!” I pulled out the cyclone, the tubing, the pump, and the filters. Yes! I could collect air samples. It was supposed to measure silicates and breathable dust, but I was going to innovate it.
“Vector, can you merge findings from the Air Collection Pump with your Mass Spectrometer?”
“I need more specific parameters, K90-Miner 110.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to collect silicates once I can walk around. When I bring in the air sample, I want you to scan the silicates for any bacterial hitchhikers.”
“Results will take up to five business days,” Vector said.
Business days? What a crock. “Whatever, Vector.”
I knew what lay ahead for me on this planet. My mechanical engineering degree was about to get hacked because I was making the EEP my official base. It was why I’d chosen the landing site I had.
It was nestled in a narrow valley near a stream of water. Defendable on three sides, a rocky outcrop shielded the EEP from the west (I double checked the rotation to see if weather patterns moved in the same direction as on Earth) and a deep gulch dove down to the south. A stand of thick trees to the north of the vehicle was one concern, but it was the best I could do with the amount of fuel available for a safe landing. There was a huge tree smack in the middle of the glade and a wide stream that flowed in rapids at my east until it plunged into the gulch in a breathtaking waterfall.
I flexed my legs and feet as I lay on the floor, trying to hasten the reawakening process while drinking my fill of the water pouches to dilute the medication in my system. “Vector, how long before the cryosleep wears off?”
“You have an hour before you reach full mobility. You are scheduled to receive the GVB.”
I groaned. I needed that stupid galactic vaccination booster before I could do anything outside the pod. But since I had fallen, I couldn’t push my legs under me to stand and seat myself in the chair. It would have to wait.
The pod shuddered. Being on the floor, I felt it through my bones.
“Vector, run proximity scanners.”
“Scanning,” it said. “No lifeforms within a twenty-foot radius.”
“That’s BS, Vector,” I said. “But run seismic.”
“Microtremors consistent with similar activity on Earth.”
My mind raced through the possibilities. Humans could plan for what they could imagine based on previous experiences. They could extrapolate. They could innovate. But in the end, they could not predict the future. Emergencies can’t be prevented, but they can be mitigated.
Thanks, Dad.
Another shudder rumbled through the metal of my indestructible pod—as an alloy of steel and Galvanite, nothing was breaking it—but that didn’t mean I wanted it tipped into the gulch.
“Vector, activate hDEDs.” And then, on further thought, I added, “Arm the repeating rotator weapon. Code: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Lima Juliet.”
“Arming RR weapon.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I felt my shoulders drop and muscles relax. “Deploy drone. I want the perimeter on screen.” I had to roll onto my back to see the screen without cricking my neck. I used my pack as a pillow, though the back of my helmet was not built for reclining comfort anyway.
The screen changed from the landing vectors and weather calculations to a high-res panoramic view of my landing site. Thanks to the hDEDs, my little ship was invisible for all intents and purposes. The pod’s outline was visible if one knew what to look for. Its rounded, wedge shape blurred at the edges, but it reflected the surrounding environment of yellow-green grasses swaying in the strip of land between the black-and-gray-streaked boulders and the orange rock-strewn stream.
Another rumble shook the pod, but I didn’t see anything yet. If I could stand, I could manipulate the controls for the drone myself. I pounded the floor with a fist. It coincided with another shake.
“Seismic scan registering 1.3 on the Richter scale. Calibrating for this planet’s gravity.”
“Thanks, Vector.” My mind worked while I snagged a lip between my teeth. “Something could be burrowing under the pod.” I didn’t know for sure, but I was prepared to expect the worst-case scenario, and that could be disastrous.
I cursed. What were my options? I couldn’t launch. The EEP was a land-only vehicle. Crap. “Deploy stabilizers.”
The whirring hum of smooth machinery under the floor rumbled through my body. I could even picture the exploded schematics of the hydraulics in my mind’s eye. My team and I had worked for a couple years to craft an egress vehicle that would be foolproof for a panicked human to use in a pinch. I squeezed my eyes shut and shivered, moisture popping between my lids. Panicked human.A single sob shook my frame, then I filled my lungs with a deep breath of recycled air. All the preparations in the world couldn’t prepare me for the fear that made me want to curl up and hide like a little girl. I had to breathe through it. Work through it. Just like old times.
The stabilizer legs lifted the center of the pod off the ground a few inches, and the rumbling seemed to abate. I blew out a breath. “Okay. Just an anomaly.” I reset the system, allowing the pod to descend back to the ground and retract its legs.
Stretching and rolling my shoulders, I cracked my neck and tried to flex my feet. Minimal movement, but not paralyzed at least. I recognized the opportunity for what it was, since I was forced to lay still. I turned to the one thing that carried me through my adolescence and early adulthood. Meditation and prayer. Except … searching my heart, I questioned. Could the Great Spirit hear me all the way … wherever I was? A catch in my throat. A puff of breath. I had to believe it.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs to capacity, and exhaled. “Great Spirit,” I said. “I know it’s been a long time. After, you know, what happened.” A few blinks. “I offer my thanks for my life. As I embark on a new journey on this planet, I ask you to send the spirits of my ancestors to guide my feet. Help me remember the ways of my people. Forgive me when I kill for my survival. Let the deaths be not in vain as I strive to leave no harm on the trails I leave behind. You have provided abundant life in the universe. Let me become one with it on this planet.” I paused, letting an image materialize in my mind’s eye.
Tree spires arched over a pine needle-strewn path I’d walked many times in my mind. I focused on lifting my chest, holding my breath, and exhaling, imagining my gaze tracing the Fibonacci spiral, falling deeper into meditation.
I entered the primeval forest in my dream place. Parting branches, pine oil stuck to my fingers. I stared at them. The details of my meditation were purer than ever before. Rustling caught my attention.
My gaze drifted upward.
A vision of two tall females in flowing dresses pressed behind my eyes. They nodded at me in rhythm with my slowed heartbeat. Their eyes were black, their teeth were shaped like viper fangs, and their skin was green. My mouth opened to speak, but the vision dissipated like smoke from a distant fire.
I snapped my eyes open. Surrounded by the unforgiving metal of my ship, it took me a few seconds to remember where I was. The jet-black monitor mirrored the females’ eyes. The gleaming white panels brought to mind their fangs. The creatures were unlike any of the legends from my youth. A few more blinks and already their images faded, even after trying to memorize them. It was as if they were actively trying to be forgotten.
I wriggled my limbs, letting my mind craft contingency plans and emergency protocols, and worst- and best-case scenarios, to its contentment. Nerdy as it was, I found comfort in numbers and peace in predictability. In other words, I loved math, physics, and fiddling with my hands. “Vector, give me an approximate time scaled to match Earth’s Greenwich Mean Tim
e on this planet.”
“An approximate time based on the highest sun’s azimuth is three post meridian.”
“Thanks.” I rolled onto my stomach and rose into a plank, then got to my knees and stood. My limbs felt like jelly, but they worked.
Peering out the window at the lush forest and waving meadow grasses, I could see movement among the grasses and winged insects murmuring in small swarms.
All those years when I hated him for it, this was the moment my father had been preparing me for. With a grimace, I felt profound gratitude that he wasn’t here to see me possibly fail. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I gritted my teeth. “Focus on the here and now, Pattee.” I blew out a huge breath and centered myself. I was not here to fail. I was here to live.
The list of tasks unrolled in my mind, both soothing me with their regimen and exhausting me with their clamor. A tanning frame. A garden. Whittle stakes and paddles and craft rudimentary stone tools. Carve out a bowl for a mortar and pestle. My fingers gripped the edge of the porthole as I considered the momentous task before me.
Turning away from the window, I removed my helmet. First, I would inventory my supplies, then I would break my tasks into bite-size pieces, but in the meantime, I measured my breaths and counted my heartbeats with soothing precision.
I had time.
A lifetime.
2
I roared at the white-furred pazathel-nax wolf that snapped at my boots. For some kathe reason, the devil dog picked me out as the weakest in the pack. What a load of kathe. I could kill any of my brethren in a couple of tiks. Even Naraxthel. Ha. Especially Naraxthel, now that he was smitten with that useless soft female. It was better he left us when he did, otherwise the devil dogs would be disemboweling them both.
“Run ahead!” I said to the three hunters. “Pull them away! I’ve got this mutt!”
They drew the rest of the pack away, Raxkarax feigning a lame leg.
I swung my raxtheza but missed the dog’s gray-white head. A parry to its muzzle with my double blade, and soon its blood sprayed upon the groundcover. Two more swipes and the dog lay dead, its entrails steaming in the rain-swept air. I double-checked my sight-capture was working. The Ikma Scabmal Kama loved to see death and mayhem.
Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series) Page 1