Hunted on Predator Planet

by Vicky L Holt

  He growled. “Esra hicon Naraxthel.” Again, he gestured. Impatiently.

  “The phoneme “cone” seems to denote the word “with”,” VELMA said in my ear.

  “Thanks, VELMA. I got it.”

  He stood, sober and determined. But he didn’t reach in and try to grab me. And he could, if he wanted to.

  I peeked around the corner at the others. All of them were standing with packs and weapons and helmets on. Oh. They were going somewhere. Oh schist. Were they leaving me? Was Naraxthel saying goodbye? Were they flying off-world? Should I ask if I could come with them? My grip on the doorway tightened. Let’s run through that scenario. What if they took me to their ship? Brought me closer to real civilization instead of this tooth and claw existence? But what if they had more sinister plans for me? Nausea gripped me for a moment. I felt blood drain from my face. I looked into Naraxthel’s eyes, trying to find something, anything, a sign of goodwill.

  His brows softened and he smiled. He waved his hands at the packs and weapons. Then tapped his own. Then he pointed to me. “Esra zal? Esra hicon Naraxthel?”

  He reached out a single claw and caressed my chin. My heart flipped, and I gasped. His touch startled me with its tenderness. Why did I react this way to an alien? I shook my head from the fog of confusion.

  “Um, okay, hang on,” I said. What did he say? Zal. I knew this. VELMA just told me “za” was like an object. Like a thing, or something. And “ell” was plural. So, objects. Esra objects? He had indicated all the packs.

  Oh.

  Ohhhh. I was supposed to pack my things. Maybe? And go with them?

  “Esra hicon Naraxthel. Esra zal,” I said back to him. He nodded and bared all his fangs. All his lovely fangs. How did they keep them so white? My mouth dried up. Okay, things. My things. What things? How many days?

  I had to think about this. They probably weren’t planning on killing me. All of them, including Red, had had plenty of opportunity, and maybe even reasons to. But they hadn’t. I could insist I was staying, but do what? Wait for the beacon to summon help? My one in a quintillion chance or whatever? And there was the possibility they wouldn’t even let me stay. I couldn’t really fight against them, shedding a few tears notwithstanding. I may as well go and see what happens. And again, try to show them I was worth keeping around. Naraxthel watched me bite my lip and look at all the others.

  I found my biggest satchel and stowed MREs and water pouches. I already had some sample vials, my multi-tool, and assorted other gadgets, as well as my mineral test kit. A last look. Anything sentimental was left on Earth a very long time ago.

  I activated my mic. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Esra zal?” he asked me again and touched my pouch.

  I slung it over my shoulders and fastened it everywhere, so it became seamless with my suit.

  “Esra zal,” I confirmed.

  Wow. I followed their single file line as we headed into the woods. I spared a single glance to my lonely ship, its gleaming metal harsh in the wild landscape. “VELMA, activate hDEDs.”

  “Confirmed. Pod camouflaged.”

  32

  I brought up the rear of our line, watching Esra step carefully through the woods. And yet she was as loud as a rokhura breaking through the tree line. How was it possible one so small could make so much noise? Perhaps her helmet prevented her from hearing her own noise?

  “Esra,” I spoke softly. She turned to me, a question on her face. Hm. She could hear. But what would I say now I had her attention? “Ah, hohishe?” I offered her my water flask.

  Her lips turned up in a slight smile and she struck her helmet with her knuckle. Of course. So foolish of me. I nodded, realizing I also wore my helmet.

  She spoke in her soft language. “Thenquewwaneewaaa.”

  She turned to face the front and continued on, stepping on every single stick, rock, dried leaf, poisonous fungus and one stupid jokal that didn’t move fast enough. Its squeal alone could awaken a sleeping mud-beast. Perhaps she had survived as long as she had because she made the sounds of a giant predator when she traveled on foot. I scowled. At any tik, one of my brethren was going to …

  “Will you tell your traveler to stop making so much noise?” complained Raxkarax. “I can’t even hear my own breaths over the quaking noise erupting from her footsteps.”

  “Yes,” I said. I put a hand on her shoulder. She stopped.

  I tapped her helmet with a claw and then used two fingers to indicate eyes. Watch me. “A-do.”

  I put my boot on a stick and pressed. I clapped my hands together by her helmet. “Krak!” I mimicked the sound. She flinched. Then I showed her how to slide a stick aside or step over it. I made the sound of the wind on a hot day. “Shhhh.”

  Her brows pinched in understanding.

  She said words I didn’t understand, but she managed to walk more quietly after that.

  Raxthezana spoke from the front. “I smell the rains. Is it not too soon for the rains?”

  Hivelt replied, “It is the wet air season. The rains are not to come until another moon cycle.”

  “We must find shelter,” I said from the back. “I do not want the soft traveler to suffer.”

  “Yasheza Mahavelt can walk in a little rain,” Hivelt said. “You cannot coddle her. From my view, we are here, and she is here, all because of you.”

  I grumbled but said nothing. I knew I walked along a precipice with Yasheza and my brethren. I must not show her too much preference. Yet without her suit, she was as vulnerable as a jodax egg.

  She peeked back at me with raised brows, no doubt wondering what we discussed.

  I pointed to the sky. “Woa hohishe.” It was not our word for rain, yet she should understand. Within tiks, the rains descended with a vengeance.

  She screamed.

  “Woawa,” I said over the pounding of rain.

  “Woawa?”

  Her voice had a tremor. She bowed beneath the powerful slashing rain, stumbling.

  As the rain fell, our hike became more strenuous. Mud filled up each boot print as we walked. Yasheza had to take thrice as many steps to each of our strides. She would tire soon.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and she jumped. She said something indecipherable and questioned me. “Woahoza?”

  Ship? Did she think we were taking her to our ship?

  If I told her the truth, would she run? Swallowing acid that rose from my throat, I pointed forward. She would find out the truth soon enough.

  33

  The thunder shook the ground we walked on, and I longed for the safety of my pod. My suit shed the rain, obviously, but being out in the open during thunder and lightning seemed like a horrible idea. At least, that’s what I thought before the rain became torrential.

  As if giant wasps and spiders wasn’t bad enough, apparently, the raindrops were in competition for Most Freakishly Large Thing on Death Planet. I held my arms above my head and screamed. The rain felt like actual buckets. Not buckets full of water. Actual buckets. The force of their drops brought me to my knees, but I was not about to show weakness in front of these massive hunters. I strove to climb back up, slipping repeatedly.

  I was grabbed from behind and then sheltered in Red’s arms. He hunched slightly, offering me some protection from the drops.

  “Hicondo, Yasheza Mahavelt,” he said. Then he snatched me up and picked up his pace to run ahead of the warriors. He shouted something to them, but I didn’t catch it. I couldn’t see our destination due to the downpour.

  The first thunderclap had been loud, but a second one ripped the clouds above with its ferocity. Its mother bolt streaked across the entire horizon, lighting up the surrounding area like the light from two suns. My heart raced with each step Red took. It was at once exhilarating and frightening. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt safe wrapped in a male’s arms, despite the deluge around us.

  We reached a cave opening and once inside, I could see it was the other entrance to my cave.
Er, his cave? I recognized the grainy salt walls and floor. I could even see boot prints. I frowned. Several huge boot prints. They had all been in here. I swallowed. They had tracked me. That’s how they found me running away from the alien dinosaur from hell. I closed my eyes briefly. I was still alive.

  I waited for Naraxthel to put me down, but he didn’t.

  I marveled at his red battle-slashed helmet, and angular, sharp-edged armor. It wasn’t fair. My helmet was made of a glass and Galvanite alloy. He could see my face. I could only guess at his expression through the black visor. The faint image of glowing eyes revealed nothing about his emotional state.

  “You can put me down now,” I said.

  His helmet eyes were turned to me. I assumed he was looking at me. My lips wobbled in a hesitant smile, and I pointed down. “Down. Esra down.”

  He held me a second longer, and then lowered me to standing.

  “Thank you, Naraxthel,” I said. Nervous perspiration coated my skin inside my suit. I was alone with him. “Uh, woawa! Wow!” I wished for the hundredth time I had more of his words. “So, are we going to wait for the others? Rax and Hivelt and them?” I waved my hand toward the cave opening, hoping to indicate his companions.

  He cocked his head, then nodded, turning to face the entrance. He put his glove to the side of his helmet and pressed an inconspicuous button. Ah, communication devices.

  I stepped further into the cave, appreciating not being stoned to death by rain, but turned to observe my rescuer.

  His armor gleamed, having been washed in the downpour. I inspected it, noticing seams for panels. His armor was tricked out with all sorts of interesting devices, in a way like mine. Though mine was exclusively for geological expeditions and survival scenarios. He had weapons strapped to his back, and I wouldn’t be surprised if many of his “extras” were used for the work of death. He had a tool belt, too, from which hung a variety of implements. Knives, vials and pouches, as well as something that could be a stylus or a pen. These guys didn’t strike me as the writing type, though.

  He said words I didn’t understand, his back to me, as he stared out into the rain.

  I stared at his perfect posture and the width of his shoulders in awe. The alien was massive. As long as he remained on my side, I should be safe. I couldn’t be sure where his allegiance lay, without communication. I supposed he couldn’t trust me, either. It was a sobering thought and dampened the momentary thrill of having been secure in his arms just moments ago.

  And then I realized we weren’t just anywhere. We had traveled in the opposite direction of their ship.

  “VELMA, show the video feed of the alien ship.” My little bug camera was still active, right where the drone installed it.

  “The rain is obscuring the video. Activating thermal and mineral imaging.”

  A faded heat signature showed where the ship’s engines were, and the wavy violet lines created a vague outline of the entire ship, picking up compounds in the ship’s metal. Yep. There it sat. Miles away from us.

  They were never taking me to their ship. What I didn’t know was if they weren’t going to their ship, and I wasn’t going to their ship, then where the hell were we going?

  I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t know where he was taking me. I didn’t know when I’d be back to my pod. I didn’t know anything.

  Maybe he felt the weight of my stare, because he turned around, removing his helmet as he did so.

  When his eyes met mine, I blinked away tears. I was afraid, and I hated feeling afraid.

  34

  For a blissful moment, my heart-chamber’s barrier began to open, and my heart started to slip out. I was grateful my helmet obscured my face, as my brows rose, and my jaw clenched. I was many cycles removed from my adolescence, when the heart leaves its heart-home for a short period. The myths explain the phenomenon as a preparation for finding one’s life mate. But the Theraxl people hadn’t had true life mates, Heart Mates, for centuries. My heart should not be behaving in this manner.

  I blinked commands to run a scan on my life systems. All appeared normal, save my rapid breathing. I held Esra close to my chest, and everything felt as it should. The shegoshel aligned with the sister planets and our single moon, and the songs of the jodaxl rang through the ikfal.

  And then she pointed down, and I realized I was overcome with foolishness.

  My heart was over-exerted from running in the rains.

  I cracked my neck. Even if it wasn’t frowned upon, even if mating with her wouldn’t forfeit my standing in the clan and all my possessions, even if my own family wouldn’t disown me for such a pairing, how could we be one? She was small and fragile. Compared to her, I was as monstrous as a rokhura. And yet, it had been sung the heart-home never lies …

  Natheka’s voice came through my comm. “The Royal Court wishes to be given sight-captures of our expedition.”

  “Kathe,” I spat out. “We must keep knowledge of Yasheza away from the Ikma.”

  “I agree. Hivelt and the others suggested we separate for now,” he said. “We will tell them you are reconnoitering, and we will send a variety of sight-captures to satisfy their curiosity.” He paused. “As you know, the pazathel-nax will come out after the rains.”

  “Yes. May the life of Shegoshel shine upon you and your offspring.”

  “May the death of your enemies bring peaceful slumber.”

  I ground my teeth together. I should be with my brethren as they faced those toothy beasts. They had many names: teeth-dividers, devil dogs, dogs of the night. They were ferocious and large, hunting in packs after the rains came. The floods purged the dens and delves of the smaller animals, and flesh was plentiful for every predator on the planet.

  I considered the cavern we were in; it adjoined a smaller mountain range, the younger sister mountain range to the Elder Sister Mountain of Shegoshel. It would remain dry for now.

  We must make our way further inside and begin our trek to the under-mountain passageways.

  I removed my helmet and turned to try to signal to Esra our next walk when I saw her expression.

  Her lips drew together in a thin line. She blinked.

  She looked at me through the glass, her eyes lowering by the tik. With lethargic movements, she released the pressure valve in the back of her helmet, and then pulled it off. Her chest rose and fell in sluggish breaths. Her cheeks paled, and she avoided my gaze.

  I smelled despair. And fear.

  She stood as still as stone. I watched her jaw work and muscles feather across her cheek. What we lacked in speech, she made up for in her expressive face.

  We couldn’t converse, but perhaps she would see the regret and apology in my face. Until we could understand each other, she had no way of knowing my plans. I frowned. There must be something I could do to show her. Or some combination of words that would make her see.

  “Hicondo,” I told her, and walked deeper into the tunnel, headed toward the spot where the agothe-fax still lay.

  I placed a small illuminating bead on the wall of the cave. It grew in light until every corner was revealed. I placed a hand on the dead beast and met her searching gaze. She paled but said nothing.

  “Agothe-fax,” I said. I nodded my head to the animal. “Agothe-fax.”

  She frowned. I watched her eyes trace the lines of the night-walker. “Ah-go-the-fax.”

  Yes. I smiled at her. Then I arced my arm under the cavern ceiling, indicating the entire cave. “Agothe-fax shevelt.” I emphasized the word I wanted her to learn.

  “Kayv?” she asked me. I did not know what she tried to say.

  “No. Shevelt—” I jabbed toward the night-walker again. “Agothe-fax shevelt.”

  Her brows met, and her mouth turned down.

  I scratched my chin. “Esra woahoza?” I asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Esra woahoza—shevelt.”

  I watched her face for signs of understanding. She mouthed the words I gave her. She nodded.

/>   “Esra woahoza, my shevelt,” she said, and patted her chest. Ah, she understood.

  “Ik.” I took a step closer to her. What was that word she used for immediacy? “N-oww,” I attempted it. “Esra Hicondo, Naraxthel. Esra shevelt—Naraxthel.”

  How could I make her understand that for now, her home was with me? At least until we figured out what to do with her. I pointed to her and shrugged. “Esra hi con Naraxthel,” I said, patting myself. My heart hurt with the desire to communicate with Esra. I watched her teeth clamp on her lower lip. How strange, they were flat and ineffective as weapons. Yet they were white and appealing. I shook myself. She cocked her head and mouthed the words.

  I waited, all the while my heart stretching and yearning toward something it could not grasp.

  Her eyes squinted, and she spoke. “Esra hi con Naraxthel,” she said and nodded, her shoulders slumping. I sighed.

  “Ik.” My heart swelled within its confines, aching to break free. We had crossed a hurdle. But there were so many more to clamber over. And the drumbeats of my Ikma’s anger pounded at my flank. I didn’t know how long she would tolerate silence from my sight-capture.

  35

  “VELMA, does “doe” mean “me” in their language?” I had replaced my helmet, wanting to pull the AI in on the conversation. The stunted talk Naraxthel and I shared was difficult and slow. Not to mention, I was unnerved. I think he just told me my home was with him. Not in a lovey dovey way, or even a rapey way. More of a, “You don’t have a better option.” Which was very true. But I didn’t have to like it.

  I observed him through the barrier of my visor. He stood so straight and tall. Proud. His helmet rested under an arm, and he watched me with his blood-red eyes. I sweated under his scrutiny.

  “It appears to, yes,” she replied. “The one called Naraxthel has used it in conjunction with the phoneme “high cone,” suggesting the phrase, “Come with me.”

  “I think I learned the word for shelter or home,” I told her. “Run shevelt through your language program or, whatever.” Despite everything, his smile did a number on my respiratory system. I was surprised VELMA didn’t call me out on it. I studied the cave wall rather than be caught memorizing the lines of his jaw or the shape of his nose. He was an alien, and furthermore, I had little choice but to stay with him. I stoked the roiling heat in my heart a little. “Do you think you could translate “Screw You” into their language?”