Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series)

by Vicky L. Holt.

  My mouth dried up. I could use the EEP’s ordnance. I imagined their white fur splattered, matted and bloodied with gore. I grimaced. “Will more come?” I asked Hivelt.

  “I do not know,” he whispered. “Ikthe has broken the laws of the wild these past weeks. Rains, traveling packs, seasonal migrations out of order. Hivelt does not know what to think.”

  I frowned and clenched my teeth. I wanted to ask him about these changes. I could plug them into my CMM and search for new patterns. A cough tickled my throat. I retreated farther into the woods.

  Hivelt remained staring at the animals.

  “How long will they stay?”

  “There is no meat on the bones,” he said. “And the glade has been cleared of the hiding places of the jokapazathel rodents. Perhaps they are passing through.”

  I coughed.

  He turned to look at me. “Stay here. I will kill them.”

  “No!”

  He cocked his head.

  “I could kill them with one voice command,” I said. I pointed to my ship. “I could slaughter them.” Tears formed in my eyes, angering me. I avoided his gaze. “Let’s wait a couple hours and see if they wander away. If they attack us, my technology can target and kill them with precision from my ship.”

  Hivelt shook his helmet. “I do not understand your ways. Hivelt can kill the devil-dogs in a few jotiks, and we will complete our quest to heal you.”

  I had seen these so-called devil-dogs in their ferocity. Perhaps Hivelt could kill them, I didn’t know. But what if he was injured? Or killed? Then I would be forced to somehow find these others he mentioned, his companions. And time was running out for me for that kind of journey.

  We crouched and waited.

  Upon closer inspection, it looked like a dire wolf family. The biggest one lay with his head up, ears alert. He looked over the glade and lifted his snout to sniff the air.

  The second largest lay amongst the bones, licking one she had grasped between her front paws. And the three smaller ones gamboled about, pouncing on each other or playing tug-of-war with rib bones.

  I coughed again, turning my head inside my helmet, attempting to keep the IntraVisor clean.

  Hivelt stood.

  “No!” I stood too and put my hand on his chest armor. “Please don’t. I’ll be fine. They’ll leave soon.”

  Hivelt didn’t move. He looked down at my hand on his chest for a long time.

  I felt power through his armor and pulled my hand away. Maybe he had an energy field or something. I looked up into the black rectangle of his helmet visor. I wished I could see his eyes. “Just a little longer.”

  “You slew the shegoshe-tax,” he said.

  I cocked my head.

  “The creature of the yellow pelt. With long legs.”

  The cougar-demon. “It was trying to kill me.” I turned back to watch the wolves. “Look at them. They’re just being together.”

  “You took down the tree thief, as well,” he said.

  I avoided his gaze. “I warned it of my presence first.”

  He grunted. “You chose to fight? Truly, you are a child of Ikthe,” he said with a low chuckle. He squatted back down and spoke, indicating the playful wolves with his head. “The elder sister pazathel-nax and the younger sister care for the pups. It is not yet the mating season, so the males travel alone, wandering Ikthe. During the times of the rains, the devil-dogs convene, calling one another with their dark sound-bags.” He mimed a throat bag under his chin. “Many of the predators of Ikthe have such organs. Upon inflating, they create a low vibration, calling to others, or warning enemies away.”

  “Can you hear it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “My ears capture most of the frequencies on this planet. As my nose captures most of the smells. The Holy Goddesses of Shegoshel gifted Theraxl with such abilities, that we might tame the death on this planet and bring it to submission.”

  I stared at the aunties laying in the shade of the big tree. “You bring death to submission?”

  Hivelt grunted. “Perhaps that is the wrong word. Death is sacred. Out of death springs the life on Ikshe.” He pointed to the green crescent in the sky. “Once, our people lived here. But the Goddesses provided the knowledge of traveling betwixt the planets, and we discovered the beauty and peace of Ikshe. It is full of meadows and lakes, streams, rivers, and grasses. Nothing bigger than the jokapazathel roams its lands, and the waters teem with fish. The weather is mild, and the jodaxl birds sing to the Goddesses every day.”

  “It sounds like paradise,” I murmured.

  “The sisters bake bread and preserve the fruits and fungi, herbs and spices that grow in plenty there. They raise and teach the little sisters and hunters in schools and temples. But our people need meat to thrive. The hunters serve the sisters by providing the meat.” He paused. “And entertainment.”

  I frowned. My eyes itched. The bacteria were taking over. Fatigue washed over me, and I just wanted to lie down. Sinking to a sit, I leaned back against a tree trunk. I struggled to remove my helmet.

  Hivelt knelt beside me and found the latch, unfastened it, and placed the helmet beside me. He drew a deep breath.

  I drank but started coughing. “Sorry,” I spluttered. I hadn’t been this helpless since I was a child. Having Hivelt to help me was an unexpected boon, and, dare I believe, a sign of the Great Spirit’s awareness of my existence.

  “It is I who am sorry,” he said. “I unknowingly inflicted this ailment upon you. I will do all in my power to reverse it.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a nod.

  He sat across from me. “Why do you not shed tears?”

  I looked up at him with a creased brow. “I cry,” I said. “Many times since I landed, actually.” I laughed a little. “I’ve cried more in the last several days than during my entire childhood.” I gave him an ironic smile.

  He grunted. “Your fellow human Esra cried. It is said on my home world that a woman’s tears may draw the ire of our Goddesses. I am ashamed to admit I feared Esra when I first met her, for she shed tears that could draw the fierce eye of my Elder Sister Goddess.”

  “I see.” I watched the devil-dogs for a moment, then returned my gaze to his visor. “My people have a ceremony for washing away tears. I forgot about it until just now.” I closed my eyes and pictured the faces of my people surrounding me. But it was only me and Hivelt. I opened my eyes. “Thank you for your help,” I said. “My pride caused much of the trouble I’m in right now.” I gestured at myself and vaguely toward the ship. “I didn’t grant my technology full access to its abilities, or I would have known about the bacteria and been able to communicate with you earlier.” I coughed into the crook of my arm. It sounded thick and full of phlegm.

  He pried his gaze away from me and studied the animals in the glade.

  I started coughing again, more violently this time, and when flecks of blood showed up on the glass inside my helmet, Hivelt stood without warning and jumped through the bracken to the field, both weapons drawn.

  He startled the wolf family, and the elder sister leaped to her feet, her shoulders furred with long hard spikes. The younger sister jumped up as well, and I saw her throat sac inflate and deflate, and the three pups darted off toward the boulder outcropping. I couldn’t see where they hid, but I watched in horror as the remaining two split up and flanked Hivelt.

  One would rush his legs, aiming for his ankle tendons, and the other parried his front, snapping at his dagger and retreating. I could see their attacks would tire Hivelt. He might not admit it, but he had run full-out, carrying me. He must be tired, unless his race had infinite strength or something.

  “VELMA, arm the RR weapon,” I said. “Hivelt is not to be hit at any cost, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Pattee Crow Flies. RR weapon locked and loaded. Targets acquired. I will fire at your command.”

  I felt so weak, but I had to sit up to watch. I scrutinized Hivelt, looking for signs of fatigue or exhaus
tion.

  He danced. Every swing of his blade was a graceful arc. His steps wasted no movement; he placed his boots for the most balance and stability.

  The younger sister fell first. She was too slow on her retreat, having worried at his lower leg for a second, so he was able to cut her down with his double-blade. I looked away.

  With renewed vigor, the elder sister tore through Hivelt’s defenses and leaped at his throat. Hivelt went down, and three white blurs sped out of the craggy rocks to the west of my ship. They flew at Hivelt and joined their aunt in attacking Hivelt at any weak spot.

  Hivelt rolled and roared, flinging one pup across the glade, where it fell in the shrubs and lay forgotten.

  The other two kept going for the narrow place between Hivelt’s shoulders and helmet, and the sister’s vicious jaws seized Hivelt’s hand, preventing him from using one of his weapons.

  I didn’t know how long this would last or which predator would gain the advantage. “Great Spirit, guide VELMA’s weapons that they fly true,” I muttered. “VELMA, fire.”

  I saw the panel just below the nosecone slide open, and the rotating repeater weapon aimed in Hivelt’s direction. VELMA’s software had precision-guided algorithms. Hivelt would not be harmed.

  I swallowed a cough, my jaws tightening, and my lungs bursting with held breaths.

  The gun fired, its nozzle pulsing with three rapid succession shots. The sister and both pups went down, as if collapsing into a deep sleep.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, and then started coughing again. “VELMA, did Esra have coughing fits this bad?”

  “No, Esra lost consciousness just prior to organ shutdown. It is possible the antibiotics have broken up bacterial cells, thus causing your lungs to fill with excess mucous. Please return to the EEP for emergency medical treatment.”

  “Right.” I forced myself to hug the tree trunk to stand.

  Hivelt rose, looked down at the dead wolves, up at my EEP, and then back at me.

  I stumbled toward him.

  He leaped over the dead bodies and caught me before I fell. “What does your technology need of me?” He carried me to the EEP.

  “I will use the contents of the cave pool sample vial,” VELMA said. “And a single drop of the Holy Waters of Shegoshel. Please place the drop in the center of the glass plate. Do not touch it.”

  The hatch slid open, and I tripped to the exam table. “There, Hivelt,” I said with a gesture at the console where VELMA collected samples. “She lit up where the vial goes. And the little slide next to it,” I said.

  Hivelt still stood outside the hatch, looking in. He was huge. Would he fit? He glanced at me, then took off his helmet. He shook out his flowing black mane of hair fronds, and his muscular jaw and hawkish nose struck me again with their strength and savagery. He began removing his armor, and I saw that it came off in pieces.

  I was fading in and out, but it looked like the wires of his suit waggled and beckoned toward him.

  Finally, he made his way into my EEP by forcing his legs in first, grasping at the entryway with powerful arms, and twisting his hips and torso until he was all the way in. He retrieved the vial and a beautiful bottle that must contain his people’s sacred potion. He placed the items where they belonged, then stood at my side. His size dwarfed the inside of my pod.

  I fought to keep my eyes open.

  “Hivelt, remove Pattee’s helmet,” VELMA said.

  His hands came around my head and found the latch. It released with a hissing sound, and he cradled my head while he pulled my helmet off.

  I felt funny, like I had swallowed a whole egg. My jaw hurt. VELMA’s IVs and assessment cables plugged into my suit, and then I heard several alarms go off at once.

  The last thing I saw was Hivelt’s hand dropping to hold mine. I was cold, too. It reminded me of walking with my dad to get ice cream. I stared at my little hand in Dad’s and heard him telling me the story about Nanabozho and the flood. How the little coot had given its life to create the world, and then Nanabozho blew life into its little frail body so that it could live again. I stared at my hand until my eyes closed.

  Thanks, Dad.

  28

  I stood helpless, staring down at her hand engulfed in mine.

  Pattee lost consciousness, and her ship rang and chimed with alarms. A robotic arm maneuvered across her body, plugging into different ports.

  The technology announced things in the human’s tongue.

  I gathered by her ashen face and cold hand that the infection from my planet was subduing her.

  A needle siphoned liquid out of the vial and into a clear tube. The glass plate with the sacred drop retracted into the console.

  Blocks of lines and shapes displayed on screens.

  “What is Pattee’s status?” I ventured to ask.

  “Pattee was close to the early stages of organ failure; however, I have precisely engineered the antidote and am now administering it intravenously,” the technology said in my language. “I have created a bacteriophage that will consume the infection. The process takes seventy-two hours. However, Pattee may not need as long to recover because dosing antibiotics right away broke up the infection and prevented its spread. Pattee will make a full recovery. Your decision to hasten her return was most efficacious and beneficial to Pattee’s health.”

  Blood rushed to my face in a racing flame. I squeezed Pattee’s hand, but she was unresponsive.

  “Incoming message from Esra Weaver. Would you like to hear it?”

  Sweat beaded at my hairline. Unless something had happened, Esra was with Naraxthel. I had deserted my brethren. Would I now admit to my subterfuge?

  I looked down at Pattee. Her chest rose and fell in easy breaths. Her eyes moved under her lids. She would recover. I stepped away from her, releasing her hand to rest at her side.

  The vision of my bloodied brethren and Pattee collapsing, exsanguinated from her neck wound, pierced my eyes like a lightning bolt. I squeezed them shut.

  Beeps from Pattee’s ship beat steady in my ears.

  “Hold the message for Pattee when she awakens,” I said.

  “Very well,” the technology said.

  I flexed my fists. My nostrils flared.

  The visions from the Goddesses were just visions. Not commands. It could be Hivelt’s own fears manifesting in dreams as I walked the fields of Shegoshel.

  Pattee’s small form beckoned a final touch, a final caress, so I stepped forward and played with a lock of her long black hair. I recalled Esra’s braids—the symbol of victory over death. My heart lurched inside, battering the cage opening. I grimaced and pounded my chest with a fist. Pattee deserved to wear the victory braids as a crown.

  The memory of the beautiful sister tossing her fruited wine into my face surfaced. Hivelt did not deserve the honor of plaiting victory braids into Pattee Crow Flies’s hair.

  A fire burned in my belly when I remembered servicing the Ikma Scabmal Kama.

  I had accused Naraxthel of impugning my honor, but Hivelt had no honor. Did I not know visiting the Queen was equivalent to tossing fruited wine into the faces of my ancestors? Naraxthel had shown true honor by defying the Ikma. And now he faced imminent death, dragging the human woman along behind him.

  Because of the Ikma.

  Exiting the little ship and replacing my armor, I ignored the barbed tendrils sinking into my flesh. Nothing hurt as much as the disappointment in myself. I could rejoin the others. I could disappear into the ikfal. It was doubtful Pattee would track me down a third time. She had what she needed from Hivelt.

  At the stream, I spied the young glisten-fish battling each other for prime riffles in the water or jumping to snag the nonsense bugs that drifted too close to the surface of the stream.

  On my way to the other side, the fish darted around my ankles and calves, heedless of me, intent on their little fish errands. On the other side of the stream, I poked around in the brush, seeking my forgotten pole. After many tiks, I gave up. T
he rains must have washed it down the falls into the ravine.

  I turned to look at the ship in my glade one last time. I had confidence Joaxma’s technology would heal her. She would build a proper homestead there in the glade and fish for my prize. She may never learn the proper way to cook glisten-fish, but she was a strong and mighty hunter. She would join Esra and Naraxthel and the others. Perhaps my brethren would see the error in Ikma’s suicide mission and decide instead to make a community on Ikthe.

  I snorted at myself. Nonsense. No, with Naraxthel as leader, they would all quest to the under-mountain passageways. Some would die. Mayhap all would die.

  A pinching twinge cut my breaths short. I doubled over and felt a fiery cramp in my heart-home. The vision of my Ikma murdering Pattee flashed before my eyes again, and pain forced me to kneel.

  I took deep quaking breaths until the pain ebbed and my erratic heartbeats calmed. I raised my helmet to look at the ship again.

  “Goddesses of Shegoshel. The little builder heals in her chamber,” I uttered. “I gave her the drop of the Holy Waters. I did thy bidding and brought her to safety. Please release me from my duty.”

  I felt a thrumming pulse from my knees to my heart. The scans in my helmet did not warn of landquakes. I heard rushing winds, but when I looked at the tree branches above me, they did not stir. Was it wind? Thunder? The rumbling grew louder.

  A scan of the sky revealed it to be cloudless. If I were in the mountains, I would assume the noise was …

  I jumped away from the banks but fell over a downed tree. My head snapped up in time to see a flood of black water rush from the north. I scrambled to my feet and ran farther up the bank before the churning, limb-choked rage overtook me. The liquid fury raced to the gulch’s edge and pushed the lingering fallen tree over it. Its crash into waters below thundered the air.

  Four veltiks from where the bank had been, I stood and watched as the maelstrom tore through the streambed. Twice in one moon’s turn? The shape of the stream was shifting again with this new craft of the Goddesses’ hands. From whence did these floodwaters boil? The head of this stream sprung from the cave. Had the cavern flooded?