My heart raced at the possibilities. There weren’t many that would explain it. I could think of two in fact, neither of which was good news for either Ikshe or Ikthe. I swallowed and maneuvered the controls, watching the graphs rendered in 3D on the screen.
After combining the weather of the last several weeks, from when Esra’s pod had deployed its nanosatellite array, and the reports of the animal migrations, the data was modeling a stunning graphic.
Esra and Hivelt looked over my shoulder.
“What does that one mean?” she asked.
I bit my lip. “I’m not quite sure yet.” The truth was, I had an idea, and it spelled disaster for us all. I shot Esra a smile. “I probably need a couple more days to figure it out.”
Her brows furrowed, and she cocked her head. “Okay.” She looked like she wanted to say something more but pressed her lips into a thin line.
I snapped the screen down, not wanting anyone to speculate. For now, it sounded as if the immediate problem was another rescue mission.
Esra and I sat facing each other while the hunters stood in a semi-circle behind me, having examined the maps.
She and I stared at each other.
She reached out and took my hand.
I grasped it tight. If she was of a like mind, we were both imagining our human counterparts surrounded by danger at every turn.
“I will go to the Agothe-Fatheza,” Raxkarax announced.
“You cannot go alone,” Raxthezana said, his voice angry.
“Use your intellect, Raxthezana,” Raxkarax said in clipped tones. “Do you not see the Goddesses have sent the humans to Ikthe? Something stirs in my blood and quakes my heart-home at the thought of a human trapped in the Agothe-Fatheza. I know that I must go there.”
“All I said was that you cannot go alone,” Raxthezana said. “We are without Natheka. Our numbers diminish, and the quest for woaiquovelt languishes.”
“Hold,” Naraxthel said. “I, too, am eager to end the quest and return to Ikshe with honor. To depose the corruption in the Royal Courts and receive our just dues. However, I sense a greater craft at work.”
“I do not believe in the Goddesses!” Raxthezana said. “I do not believe they order the universe or craft our destinies in their hands. I do not believe a deity cares about any of us!”
“That is your right,” Naraxthel said in a calm voice. “And it is Raxkarax’s right to follow the inclinations of his heart-home. You are noble to consider his safety.”
Raxthezana turned away. “I will make up provisions for Raxkarax,” he said.
Esra and I looked at each other again.
“They’re the humblest men I’ve ever met,” she said on our private channel. “They get angry, but they accept correction from their trusted friends. It’s pretty amazing.”
“It is,” I said. “I’ll help him gather supplies. Do you have any more MREs you can send?”
“Yeah, let me grab them,” she said.
The rest of the evening was spent in sober preparations.
59
There was no more prized a view on Ikthe than the suns rising over Moon Shield. The light caught the edge of the plateau where red and orange rocks glowed like fire, and the scrubby bushes lit with a golden sheen that inspired poetry. Until Pattee had become my heart mate.
She stood bent with her black hair a fall of dark luster as she brushed it out. The first sun caught the ends of her hair and burnished them a russet brown. I admired the curve of her back, the softness of her round behind, and the strength of her legs, all confined within her form-fitting suit.
My throat grew thick as I watched her plait her hair into a single, thick braid she then wound around her head and pinned in place.
“I owe you Victory Braids,” I said when she walked to me and held my hands. “You have achieved victory over death many times.”
She looked at Esra, who stood near Raxkarax and pointed at something in his pack.
“Those are Victory Braids?” she asked.
“Yes. They symbolize the interwoven lives on Ikthe and Ikshe. Life and death intersect; death gives life and life gives to death. Victory is achieved when balance is restored, when Ikthe’s stewards reciprocate its gifts with its offerings.”
“That is similar to what I was taught in my youth,” Pattee said. “The kill is unstained when its life is recognized and thanked for its sacrifice. It is why my sin was so …”
I touched her lips.
“No,” she said. “I know I am a new person, but I must recompense my deeds. I acknowledge what I did was unmerciful and selfish. It didn’t align with the spirit of Thanksgiving and honorable harvest.” She backed into my arms and faced the suns’ rises. “I am afraid of making mistakes. I’ve never been with a mate.”
I squeezed her to me and waited a rotik as the second sun cleared the edge of Moon Shield.
“What did you teach me about fear, little builder?” I asked. “Fear forged becomes strength.”
“Mm,” she said.
“I have never had a mate either,” I said. “But you are a builder of many things. We will build our mating on solid, unyielding rocks, and what we construct will not fail,” I said into her hair. “But if we make mistakes, then we will pull each other out of the rubble, as we have already done. Because our fear has made us strong and mighty.”
She turned in my arms and looked up at me, her silver eyes and dark skin the contrast I loved to see—light and dark, fear and love, bravery and vulnerability.
“We may use the rubble to build again, then,” she whispered.
“And we never need fear our mistakes because of what we will build upon them,” I said. “Are you content to be my heart mate, Pattee Crow Flies?” I asked her.
“I am content,” she whispered. “More than that, it feels like the rightest thing I’ve ever chosen. Because I love you.”
“Ah, that is this warmth in my heart-home. I feel it for you as well,” I said. “But hold, I recall I have a message for you from a male who could be one of your people,” I said. “He came to me in the mountain of my dream, flanked by a great bird the likes of which I have never seen, and a beast that resembled a fiercer and more dangerous shegoshe-tax cat. He stood taller than Theraxl and wore a headdress of thousands of colorful feathers. Bells that tinkled when he walked were strung about his ankles. He was regal in his bearing. A striking male figure full of wonder.”
Pattee’s eyes moistened. “Tell me,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.
“He said to give you his love.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, but she smiled broadly. “My heart is full right now,” she said as she opened her eyes to look into my soul for a long tik. A mischievous glint sparkled in them, however, when she tilted her head. “But there is something missing.”
“What is it, Joaxma?”
“There is the matter of the pelts that you owe me,” she said.
I raised a brow. “Pelts?”
“You stole the prey out of my snares,” she said.
I grunted. “Those were tribute,” I said. “You trapped in my glade without permission. I took my due.” My smile was smug as she squeezed my arms in mock anger.
“And did you also laugh when the crabs exploded in front of my face?”
I tried to stifle my laughter, but I was not as mighty as my little builder, and she pummeled me while my laughs rolled across Moon Shield and awakened our companions. “It was worth it!”
We stood at the ledge of Moon Shield and watched Raxkarax begin his trek. He allowed VELMA access to his comms and would receive maps, updates, and any data he requested via the nanosatellite array.
When he was but a speck on the vast moraine, we turned away and ate a simple breakfast.
“Raxkarax provided a great many provisions for our quest to Black Mountain,” Naraxthel said. “We will owe him gratitude when we return.”
“Ik,” Hivelt said. “Let us divide the honor among us all. We all played a part.”
The warriors shuffled their feet and refused eye contact.
“Whatever we can do to repay you,” Esra said. “We will.”
Naraxthel huffed. “There are no debts between us,” he said. The lines around his eyes softened when he looked at his heart mate. “But know that your presence on Ikthe has already begun a wondrous transformation for our people.”
Raxthezana snorted and left our circle.
Naraxthel stared after him.
Hivelt reached for me. “When the fifth pod is found,” Hivelt said. “And his heart-home begins to tremble in agony, then he will know.”
I heard Raxthezana scoff, but he didn’t say anything else.
“Pattee,” Esra addressed me on our private channel. “You were going to study that rendering. What did you find?”
My blood ran chill and my mouth dried up. I forced a smile and cleared my throat. I hadn’t wanted to share it with anyone yet, but if I did, Esra was the one to share it with. “Ah, right,” I said, and cleared my throat again. “We need to talk. Maybe it’s nothing. But it could be, well, catastrophic.” My mind raced to come up with a brief explanation when VELMA’s voice entered all our helmets at once.
“I have a recorded message from Natheka,” she said.
“Esra and Pattee, I did find the crash-landing site at the shores of the maar,” the recording said. “There was a lot of blood and much wreckage. I found small tracks similar to your boots leading away from the site and into the mountain range. But I have also found the tracks of a pazathel-nax following close behind. I do not wish to give false hope, so I will leave my message at that. I will not yield until I have found your fellow human … alive or dead.”
Dread filled my heart, but then I felt a small hand grasp mine. I turned to see Esra looking at me with tears shining in her eyes, and a small smile.
“She’s going to be fine,” she said. “I know it. We all are.” She pressed her hand over her heart.
I turned to look at Hivelt, and he too pressed his hand over his chest.
I looked at Naraxthel; his gaze never wavered when he lifted his fist to his chest.
I swallowed and glanced at Raxthezana, who stared toward the silhouette of Black Heart Mountain in the north. He raised his hand toward his chest, but halfway up, he dropped it.
I thought of all Esra and I had survived up to this point, and how our hearts had been healed of past hurts by the love of our heart mates. The survivor had a chance, I had to believe that. So, with a shaky breath, I let the evasive prey shiver and shelter in my own heart, a tiny light surrounded by the blackest void: hope.
###
To date, this is my longest work. I wish to thank a special group of people who made this book not only possible, but rich with detail.
A special thanks to Erik Redix and Larry Amik Smallwood for the 2/17 Gaganoonididaa: End of Life Rituals episode of the Ojibwe Stories found on Duluth Public Radio’s KUMD.
Thanks also to The Ojibwe People’s Dictionary found at this address: https://ojibwe.lib.umn.edu/main-entry/ode-nid.
To my sensitivity readers, Cass and Nikki: your insights were priceless. I am so happy I met you, and I can’t thank you enough for the suggestions that made Pattee truly real and special.
Theresa, Victoria and Danielle, your reading of my early drafts caught so many things I could never live down if they survived through edits. Thank you.
May and Eanna, you bring to mind jewelers or stoneworkers, taking something rough and unfinished and polishing it to a gleaming shine.
Glen and kids: whew! Another one in the books, so maybe I’ll get back to cooking regular meals again. Or maybe not. Thank you isn’t sufficient enough to express my gratitude as you support me in my dream. I am the luckiest of women.
Tessa, thank you for Moon Shield. It’s perfect.
Daryl, thanks for the Imperial reminder for Esra and for being a thorough science consultant.
James Mueller, thank you for helping me grasp important details related to rocket fuel.
Paul Metcalfe: thank you for bringing these characters to life for me, in particular the strong yet noble aliens of the Theraxl race.
All of you are without price, and I give you my deepest gratitude.
The decision to write from a First Nations woman’s perspective was not taken lightly. I strove to represent not only the Ojibwe culture, but First Nations culture in a true and respectful light, grateful to represent such rich traditions in fiction form, even though I placed my character far into the future, where FTL travel and interplanetary exploration is the norm. We do not know what the future holds, but I like to think that at some point the human race would recognize the value of each race’s contributions to our collective humanity. I liked imagining a science fiction future where Indigenous people were still contributing to humanity’s progression and evolution and took special care to preserve genetic characteristics.
Perhaps the greatest joy in writing from this perspective was reflecting on my own great-great grandmother’s life as an Ojibwe woman married to a French fur trader. There is precious little we know about her, but if I have honored anyone in writing the Pattee Crow Flies character, I hope it is Emma.
Love always,
Vicky L. Holt
Vicky Holt is the proud mother of six children, one daughter-in-love, and a grandmother to one darling boy.
She keeps houseplants and one naughty big puppy, and still gets a thrill when her husband reaches out to hold her hand. She believes most people are good, and that love and romance are worth fighting for.
Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series) Page 30