by Vicky L Holt
“Will Esra live?”
“Her suit has switched to auxiliary power,” VELMA said. “I am diverting all resources to her oxygen. Until the suit’s light cells have been charged to one hundred percent, my ability to provide an oxygen-rich environment will be limited. Please return her to her ship.”
I raced through the tunnels. Would the drops I gave her help or harm her? Every pounding step of my heavy boots echoed with the beat of my heart. I felt my heart-home shift; it reminded me of my adolescence on Ikshe, when my heart was free of its chamber and beat with unrestrained joy. Now questions hammered at my mind. I felt no joy at the thought of Esra’s spirit leaving her frail body and joining the spirits in the Land of Shegoshel.
Esra and I had cleared the caves, thus my way was unhampered by agothe-faxl. My heaving breaths echoed within my helmet. I breached the meadow entrance of the cave and ran through the tall grasses.
“Natheka!” I signaled him with my comm. “The soft traveler has succumbed to an illness,” I said. “She dies in my arms!”
Static rustled in my ears. “What will you do?”
“I am taking her to her ship,” I said. “It has healing capability. We will …” I studied her ashen face. “I—will join you when it is over.” My voice cracked. He told me their coordinates.
“And Naraxthel,” he said. “Hivelt has gone missing. We lost him when we battled pazathel-nax.”
I cursed and closed the comm. Could the Goddesses rain further torment upon this hunter?
I carried Esra to her landing site, glancing at her pale face through the helmet glass. Her lips lost more color with every footstep. At last I reached her small ship; VELMA de-cloaked it.
A door at the rear of the ship slid open. I could maneuver Esra’s body into the ship, but I could not fit through the door.
“Esra, wake to me,” I said, squeezing her gloved hands. No response. “VELMA, what do you require of me?”
“You must place Esra on the table.”
I inspected the doorway. If I removed my armor, I could squeeze my bulk inside.
I removed my helmet and entered the commands in my wrist panel to disengage the tendrils that connected my blood and my armor. I endured the sensations of a thousand barbed worms crawling out of my skin, willing the process to move faster.
At last, my armor detached piece by piece, leaving me with nothing but my simple undergarment. I collected my kit, and I slid Esra to the side as I contorted my body into her ship. The metal doorway abraded my skin, but I ignored it. I gathered Esra into my naked arms and watched as a chair unfolded into a flat slab.
“Place Esra on the exam table,” VELMA said. “Remove her helmet, and I will do the rest.”
I placed my soft traveler’s body where VELMA directed and unlatched her helmet. A blinking red light on the wall showed a simple replica of her head gear. I secured it there, all the while watching metallic threads and cables unravelling from Esra’s suit and plugging into holes all along the table. Restraints slipped up around her limbs save for one arm, securing her body to the surface.
“I am administering intravenous fluid and bio-autolyzed liquid oxygen. I will restore her organ function and oxygen saturation.”
My eyes narrowed at the wires. They reminded me of the skin probes in my own suit. With my heart beating a frantic rhythm, I watched Esra’s pale face and blue lips. Her chest did not rise and fall with breath. Her eyes showed no movement beneath the lids. With mounting anxiety, I stood as close as I dared to the table where a robotic arm, held together by cables and wires, manipulated a slender metallic implement above Esra’s body. With a whirring noise, the implement drove into several ports on Esra’s suit.
“I have detected an unidentified bacterium in Esra’s system,” VELMA’s voice announced. “I suspect the substance I classified as chemically similar to Salvinorin A may have been the initial infection. I will attempt to manufacture a bacteriophage from soil samples she obtained, but I do not know if it will work before she loses organ function.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Were the Waters of Shegoshel acting as the infection in Esra’s blood?
“I gave Esra two drops of our sacred healing Waters,” I told VELMA. “Could that have caused Esra’s illness?” Heat flared in my face and my mouth dried up.
“Will you allow me to scan a drop of your healing Waters?”
I grimaced and clenched my fists. The Waters of Shegoshel were obtained at great cost to my people. “Will you transmit your findings to Esra’s people or others?”
“I am unable to contact anyone from the planet’s surface,” VELMA said. “Esra’s mothership is light-years out of range, and I have had no pings from other humans or any other races since Esra landed on this planet.”
I inhaled through my flaring nostrils and closed my eyes. Unclenched my fists.
“Where do I place the drop?”
A lighted clear box slid out from a wall panel. A tiny clear plate ejected.
“Place the drop in the center of the glass plate. Do not touch it.”
I retrieved the vial from the kit around my waist, opened and tilted it. A single drop of the milky liquid fell onto the glass. The plate withdrew, and a series of colored lights scanned the sample. A steady beeping noise sounded from Esra’s table. I turned to watch her.
VELMA spoke. “When did you administer the Waters?”
“Just before you alerted me to her health emergency. In the caves.”
“I am reviewing her health logs over the past several days. I failed to connect the micro-indicators of the bacterial strain. Your Waters did not introduce the bacteria into Esra’s bloodstream.”
I sagged against a wall inside her ship. Still my eyes were drawn to Esra.
Her eyes moved beneath her eyelids. My gaze jumped to her chest that rose a fraction of a tik.
“Esra?” I stepped closer, avoiding the bent metal arm. “Can you hear me?”
A low moan vibrated in her throat. My heart-home wrenched itself open, and my heart attempted to squeeze out into the empty chamber beside the heart-home. I felt its strain to release into its new dwelling place. I gasped and clutched at my bare chest. With eyes watering, I doubled over. If my heart-home had decided Esra was to be my mate, everything would change. With weak knees, I sank to the floor and watched her sleep, my brows arched and my throat spasming in disbelief. I reviewed the evening’s events as I roved my gaze over her small body, searching for any sign of her previous vitality—her bravery.
I had stopped myself tiks before intervening in Esra’s battle. I watched her form, the clumsy way she swung her weapons, the awkward stance of her legs as she tried to fight with her center of gravity too high. With training, she could learn to hold her weight on the balls of her feet, to bend her legs, to keep her arms closer to her body. She would be my little hunter indeed. If she lived.
I drew a shaky breath and reached a hand to grasp her boot.
She had walked to me, her brows raised, after her kills. I looked past her to the ravaged night-walker bodies and then gave her a smile. Her face flooded to a dark-pink. For a tik I wished to smell her, but instead I pointed to her filthy weapon. She colored again but drove the blade into the ground. After, she held it close to her visor, staring at the metal. Her eyes grew larger as she inspected the metal, turning the blade in the light. Her interest revealed a keen mind that appreciated a valuable weapon.
I observed the screen inside Esra’s pod that flashed with lights and unfamiliar symbols. How had she fallen ill? I remembered yanking her wrist closer to see the wound. If the night-walker had injected its venom, her mouth would have turned black and I would have had seconds to give her the Waters of Shegoshel. But her mouth had appeared healthy to my view.
I had to move away from her. The halted ceremony of raxshe and raxma had my heart confused and yearning for something that was impossible.
My thoughts turned to my brethren. Had their sight-captures appeased the Ikma? Did they slay the pazat
hel-nax with ease? Had Raxthezana chosen an underground pathway through the mountains, or were they waiting at the Little Sister Pass? How would we find Hivelt? My heartbeat accelerated, and I felt my hands grow warm. I stood over the soft traveler and let my fingers splay through her braids. It was the only comfort available.
41
I heard the familiar beeping of my EEP, but I couldn’t open my eyes. My mouth tasted like the water-recycler stopped working, I felt aches throughout my body and my toes itched. I wiggled them inside my boots and realized I would have to sit up if I wanted to yank off my boots and scratch my toes. Why were they tingling? Did I contract trench-foot? I wouldn’t be surprised on this hell-hot planet.
I groaned and rotated my head, trying to work the kink out of my neck. I grimaced but couldn’t swallow. Then I smelled pepper. I inhaled deeply, feeling my breaths slow and my muscles relax.
I had enough strength to push out a single word. “Red?”
A heavy hand rested on my bicep. “Esra.”
“I can’t open my eyes.” Also, I couldn’t vocalize, other than to whisper. My words would have been inaudible to anyone but Naraxthel.
VELMA said words in Naraxthel’s language. Memories of the fight with the agothe-faxl sprung to mind, and I felt my heart race. Wait. We killed them. And then VELMA had suggested she could hack into Naraxthel’s helmet. That’s why she was using his language. It worked!
“VELMA,” I squeaked out. “Why can’t I open my eyes?”
“A side effect of the Pulmocet Mecaprotin is temporary ptosis. The oculopharyngeal muscle system will be compromised for a short time. You may also experience difficulty swallowing.”
I moaned while VELMA spoke in Naraxthel’s language.
I heard skin brush against skin, and then felt Naraxthel’s large hand clasp my own. “What happened?” I asked.
Naraxthel spoke a few words in his language. The low rumble of his voice soothed me, even though I couldn’t understand him.
“Naraxthel has asked I translate for him,” VELMA said. “He wants to explain.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“VELMA discovered a bacterium in your blood,” he said. “It is attacking your organs.”
I moaned again, hating the invasion of something I couldn’t see. But Red had a nice bedside manner.
“Am I going to die?”
Silence for a moment.
“You are a mighty little hunter,” VELMA translated. “A jo-ik-the-ka.”
I felt so tired. So ready to leave this place.
VELMA’s voice sounded in the small chamber. “I am manufacturing a bacteriophage to battle the bacterial infection. Do not lose hope.”
“What did I miss?” I said in a weak voice.
Red explained how I did not awaken and burned with a fever and that he had administered what he hoped were healing drops from a stash of prized medicine.
I nodded and inhaled again, letting the peppery aroma flood my nose and lungs.
“We can speak now,” I rasped. “Talk to me.”
I heard Naraxthel’s soft laugh and he squeezed my hand.
“I have much to tell you, Esra.”
“Please go on.”
“I will start at the beginning.”
I felt the scrape of a claw brush across my thumb through my gloves. I wished I could see his face, and I tried once more to open my eyes.
“I am from a poor province on my home-world, the Deadlands. It is isolated. Untouched by the intrigues of the Royal Court. But it is a very beautiful place, full of meadows and lakes. My mother foraged from the meadows and fished in the lakes for our meals. I learned to hunt the small animals in the Deadlands and, when I was old enough, I became an Iktheka.”
Hunter. That explained why his companions had been so obtuse. Where were they?
“Theraxl hunters are given a simple ship to travel here where we must test ourselves. I was young and reckless.”
“We all are at some point,” I whispered, thinking of my bad judgment concerning Chris.
“The Goddesses of Shegoshel shined down upon me, and my hunt was very lucky. I was able to save a fellow hunter from an early death. Natheka. I hoped my luck would be enough for the Goddesses to bless me with a Lottery Draw.”
I raised a brow.
“Theraxl hunters are only allowed to mate if they are selected from the Lottery Draw. Five are chosen at each Draw. To have offspring is the highest honor an Iktheka can receive.”
I tried to prevent the blood from rushing to my cheeks with steady breathing. These were culturally sensitive matters that had nothing to do with me. At all. And never would.
Stop blushing, stupid cheeks!
“However, it was not to be. Each cycle for fifteen sun cycles my name has not been drawn in the Lottery. I have no offspring.”
His voice sounded withdrawn, maybe even forlorn. I couldn’t tell him that where I came from, nobody wanted kids.
“The day you landed was the day of my most successful hunt. Never have I slaughtered so much meat to feed my sisters on Ikshe. The food the Ikthekal provide from this planet feeds as many sisters on Ikshe as possible.”
“But what about the Deadlands?” I asked him. “You had to hunt for your food.”
“True. The meat from Ikthe seldom reached the poor regions of my home world when I was a child.”
Oh. When he was a child. I knew with conviction he kept his mother well-supplied. He must come to this planet twice as often as others, just to provide for her as well as to the Royal Court. My admiration for him swelled, but I said nothing.
“On that day, I had mighty hopes my name would be drawn. At such time, I would choose a female to create offspring with.”
I was glad he couldn’t see my eyes. A part of me didn’t want to hear this part, but I couldn’t explain why.
“After the celebration of raxshe and raxma, we would part ways. In two cycles’ time, my offspring would be born.”
“Two years?” I blurted, then clamped my mouth shut. Did I mention my A minus in Interplanetary Relations?
“What is the gestation period for one of your kind?”
“Uh, nine months. Nine … moons?”
His voice rose in shock. “That is no time to prepare for one’s offspring!”
“I’m sure that’s true,” I said. “But I have no children, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Ah,” he said in his own voice before he continued with VELMA’s help. “I sent my sight-capture to the Royal Courts. My people will watch the scenes of my hunt for cycles to come.”
He wasn’t bragging, I noticed. Just stating the facts. What a beast.
“When the horde overpowered me, I thought I was a dead Theraxl.”
More than familiar with that feeling, I nodded.
“My queen and the sisters of the Royal Court also thought I was dead,” he said. “They would have celebrated my death as a legendary hunter of Ikshe.”
I remembered his heroism, facing those monsters dead-on. And how limp he’d been, buried underneath the carcasses. I let out a moan before I could stop it. He lived. I couldn’t explain why that meant something to me. I felt his hand touch my arm, then cool air replaced the sensation.
“When I climbed out of my grave, I saw something unusual in the terrain—your ship.”
I would have been gone by then, hiking up to place the beacon. I shivered, remembering the rest.
“Once I found you again, you were dying. I could not hear your heartbeat. Nor could I detect the echoes of a heart-home. Your technology has since taught me humans do not possess that organ.”
Heart-home? I wondered what it meant. I gestured he should continue.
“I was touched at your bravery, confused you had arrived in our isolated star system, angry you may have brought others to a knowledge of our sacred planets …” he tapered off and squeezed my hand again.
“No,” he said. “I have seen for myself you cannot be a spy.” His thumb caressed my wrist. I wondered if he kn
ew he was doing that.
“When the Royal Courts summoned me, I had no choice. I had tried to help you. There was nothing else I could do. Refusing the invitation of my queen, once they knew I yet lived?” He snorted.
I nodded. I opened my eyes a slit, as far as they would, and light seeped in.
“I am loath to tell you what happened in the Royal Courts.”
The silence grew heavy. I wanted to see him, his eyes, his face. What didn’t he want to tell me? What was this growing emotional bond between us? And why would it surface now, when I was at death’s door?
“My name was drawn as one of the five.”
“You were going to mate,” I said. I wanted to see him so bad I almost lifted a hand to pry open my lids.
“Yes. After fifteen long cycles and desiring it with all my heart and heart-home.” He stopped speaking for another long moment. I cleared my throat and was able to swallow a little. I also could open my eyes a sliver, so I blinked them a few times.
“Okay, so wait,” I said. I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. Took a deep breath. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be, you know?” My cheeks burned from my impertinent question.
He scowled and stared at a panel in my ship a long time. I noticed the muscles ripple along his cheek. “I angered the queen,” was all he said while avoiding my gaze. He also moved a little farther from me, like he didn’t want to touch me. “In a rage, the Ikma demanded the Lottery five go on one of Theraxl’s deadliest expeditions instead. Immediately.”
He groaned low in his throat, but it rumbled in my chest. I turned my head away from him, sensing his discomfort. I wondered what he could have done to anger his queen. Had he told her about me? I had more questions, but I felt so tired. I tried blinking to wake myself up.
“So, this death march. That’s where we were all going?” I finally asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
His expression hardened. “You are a brave female, Yasheza Mahavelt. But you could not last alone on Ikthe.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I had. For a day or two, anyway. Small comfort. “Your companions? Where are they now?”