Tightening his grip, Vasil pulled with all his strength, moving his arms and tentacles in opposite directions. The stalk cracked and snapped, tearing into several pieces. Thick, green-brown ichor oozed over Vasil’s skin. He shifted his hold to the intact portions of the stem and repeated the process. The thorns that had pierced his skin were ripped free. The snatcher’s roots thrashed wildly, more flexible tendrils — for feeding on prey — joining the leg-like protrusions.
Grasping the stalk at its base, Vasil slammed the heavy remains against the nearby tree trunk. Ichor splattered the bark. The plant fell to the jungle floor and wobbled; the roots clawed beneath it and pushed the clump of leaves up off the ground.
“Oh, hell no,” Theo growled.
Vasil swung his gaze toward her voice to find her on her feet, the pistol in her hands. He tensed; he didn’t want to harm her, but gunshot wounds were serious despite a kraken’s rapid healing. She was close enough that he had a chance to disarm her before she—
She squeezed the trigger, and the gun went off with a low, thrumming sound. Six more shots followed the first in rapid succession, but they weren’t the panicked, desperate reaction he’d expected. The snatcher released a high-pitched shriek. Each shot hit its mark in what Randall and his sister Larkin called a tight grouping, blasting the snatcher’s base apart and splattering ichor, shredded leaves, and chunks of a wood-like substance across the forest floor.
The roots slowed as the base sagged onto the jungle floor, and the snatcher’s remains finally went still. Smoke curled from the remains, and in several places, glowing orange embers slowly faded from view.
Vasil’s hearts thundered, making his entire body throb. The fire in his blood burned him from the inside. Part of him — a part usually kept deeply buried — demanded he somehow make the snatcher suffer more. It hadn’t yet paid a high enough price for daring to threaten Theo’s life.
“The IDC does not pay me enough for this shit,” Theo said, glaring at the smoldering remains.
The flames within Vasil were suddenly extinguished. Icy cold spread through him in the heat’s absence. “What did you say?”
She lowered her weapon and looked up at him. “What?”
His eyes dipped briefly to the pistol; he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t aiming at him. “You said IDC. You…you are part of the IDC?”
“Yeah, I work on board their interstellar ships as a mechanic.” Her brow furrowed. “How do you know about the IDC? What is this place?”
He clenched his jaw and drew in a deep breath, willing his hearts to quiet. He couldn’t be sure whether she was unaware of the IDC’s history of Halora or only pretending to be, but how could he fully trust someone from the organization that had kept his ancestors as slaves?
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Why here?”
“First tell me where here is,” she demanded, eyes narrowing.
Was she seeking confirmation or was she truly as lost as she claimed? Those old lessons — never trust humans — whispered in the back of his mind, but they didn’t apply anymore.
Or do they? None of the humans in The Watch are part of the IDC. Those memories are as distant for them as they are for us…
“Kraken, I need answers, and I need them now,” Theo said.
Vasil felt as though he were being pulled in opposing directions. He wanted Theo. He was illogically, undeniably drawn to her, but if she was part of the IDC…wasn’t she his enemy? It didn’t seem right, didn’t feel right, but he had more than just himself to consider. All his people would be at risk if they were found by the IDC.
What decision would Dracchus have made in this situation?
Dracchus would choose the kraken. He would do whatever is necessary to keep our kind safe.
But even Dracchus had fallen for a human. Things were different now; the distinction between friend and enemy was no longer clear.
Vasil turned toward Theo fully and met her gaze. A bit of feeling had returned to his wounded tentacles — a hint of pulsing pain still too distant to be distracting — and his limbs were shaky with his fading bloodlust, but he refused to show weakness.
“This world is my home,” he said, “and I will not betray it or my people. I mean you no harm, Theo. I think I have proven that to you now. I will do all I can to aid your survival, but until I know I can trust you, I will only offer information I deem safe to share.”
She holstered her weapon and sighed. “Look, I’m not here to hurt you or your people. I’m not even here by choice. I just need to know where the hell I am.”
“So you can send for the IDC?”
“The IDC or whoever can get me out of here.” She released a puff of air and shook her head. “If I can even figure out how to get a signal sent off-planet.”
Vasil tilted his head to the side, studying her expression. “What do you mean?”
“There are no satellites within range to amp any outbound signals, but that’s not even the half of it. The pod took some damage, and the comm equipment is fried. I’d need a long-range transmitter and some kind of broadcast tower to get a message to anyone.”
“She left her spare tower in her other jumpsuit,” Kane said, making the orb of light floating over Theo’s wrist pulse.
Theo rolled her eyes. “Har har.”
Vasil’s brow fell; he’d never witnessed such an interaction between Sam and the humans who used the diving suits, nor between anyone and the Computer in the Facility. “Why does it speak to you that way?”
“Kane?” Theo asked, raising her wrist. “He’s an advanced artificial intelligence, military grade. Meant to assist in my duties.” She glared at the orb. “They aren’t supposed to have such strong personalities, but I guess they gave me a defective unit. He’s basically a person without a body.”
“Theodora, that is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said about me,” Kane said.
“Just my luck I got stuck with a sarcastic jerk.”
Kane’s light seemed to condense into something more solid, almost as though he were narrowing his eyes. “You know we are programmed to learn from our environment. You taught me everything I know about personality, Theo.”
“Anyway…” She lowered her arm and met Vasil’s gaze. “You gonna tell me where I am?”
“You truly have no means of contacting the IDC or anyone else out there?” Vasil asked, waving a hand toward the sky. He didn’t doubt the records and holograms he’d seen regarding existence beyond Halora, but it remained a difficult concept to internalize; his world, already too large for any one kraken to explore in a hundred lifetimes, was so tiny and insignificant compared to the universe…
“I wouldn’t be standing here asking if I did,” she said. “The emergency beacon on the pod would’ve transmitted my location if anything was in range. I wouldn’t have to tell them where I am.”
Despite everything, Vasil didn’t doubt her honesty. He’d always been good at reading others, despite his people having limited social interactions in the past, and that talent had translated surprisingly well to humans.
“This world is called Halora,” he finally said.
“Kane?”
“I am relaying the information I have on file to your retinal feed,” the computer replied.
Blue light shone in each of Theo’s eyes, covering both her pupils and her pale green irises. Vasil furrowed his brow. What was happening?
“This can’t be right,” she said after a few moments. “The IDC classified this planet as uninhabitable and declared it a dead system.”
“To be fair,” Kane offered, “your rank allowed us access only to the most basic files. Need-to-know and all that rubbish.”
“But there are humans here.”
“According to this creature,” Kane said.
Theo looked at Vasil and frowned. “How would he know of us otherwise?”
“Perhaps his species is the reason this planet was deemed unsafe for habitation? Maybe they ate the human settlers who came here after
assimilating our language.”
“I thought computers are supposed to be things of logic and reason,” Vasil said. “We do not eat humans. They are our friends, our mates, and—”
Theo’s eyes, rounded in shock, dropped to stare at his pelvis. “Whoa! Hold up. Did you say mates? You…you have sex with humans?”
Vasil’s shaft stirred behind his slit. “I do not,” he said, raising his hands placatingly as her expression shifted to something akin to insult. Had he spoken incorrectly or used the wrong tone? “Not that I would not, as the human form is attractive, but—”
Theo held up her hand. “Let me stop you there. You’ve already made this weird enough.” She rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb.
“I am curious about this creature’s anatomy,” Kane said. “Where is his—”
“Kane!” she snapped, lowering her hand. “That’s enough.”
“He has characteristics that closely resemble cephalopods from Old Earth. I’m simply speculating as to whether one of his tentacles — the proper term is arms, but I suppose that would get confusing in his case — is his reproductive organ or—”
Theo’s cheeks reddened. “Kane.”
Vasil glanced down at his tentacles, two of which still oozed blood from open wounds. Why would one of them be his reproductive organ? That would be as strange as a human male having a cock for a finger.
“What?” Kane asked. “It’s biology, Theodora. Science. A male octopus tears off the arm that bears his reproductive organ and offers it to the female, thus—”
“No more talking!”
Mouth agape, Vasil stared at Theo. “Tears off the— Is it a joke, Theo, or is he being truthful?”
“I can assure you of my absolute sincerity in this matter, if nothing else,” Kane said.
Vasil’s stomach sank, and he shuddered. Kane’s words created an image too painful to contemplate. He thrust it aside as quickly as he could.
Theo pressed her lips together and stared down at the jungle floor for several seconds. Vasil noted she seemed very careful to keep her gaze away from his tentacles.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Um…thanks, by the way. For what you did,” she said, motioning toward the snatcher’s scattered remains.
“Yes. I mean…it was…” Vasil released an exasperated breath through his nostrils. He’d observed so many conversations; why was it so difficult for him to partake in them, to figure out what to say? “As I said before, I do not wish you harm. I also do not wish to see you harmed. But I did not think you would hesitate in shooting me if you deemed me a threat.”
Theo smirked. “Yeah, probably not.” She straightened and waved him ahead. “Guide away. Maybe you can show me what I can eat around here, and what wants to eat me.”
Vasil nodded. Doing something would be preferable to struggling through a conversation. He turned, swept aside a few bits of the snatcher that had littered the jungle floor, and started forward. His eyes scanned for signs of the food the humans normally foraged — and for the dangers he’d been taught about. Theo’s soft footsteps followed behind him.
“It is not, by the way,” he said over his shoulder after a short while.
“What’s not?” Theo asked.
“One of my tentacles.”
Her steps faltered, and Kane’s unsettlingly human laughter echoed between the trees.
Chapter 4
Theo scooped the spongy meat out of a naba stalk and slipped into her mouth. The juicy sweetness wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been during her first taste; now that she knew what to expect, she relished it. She’d been wary when Vasil had harvested the plant, eyeing the soft meat within the stalks skeptically after he’d split it open, but her first taste had dispelled her misgivings. It was glorious. Fresh fruit had always been a rarity in her life, even on Old Earth.
She tossed the empty stalk out of the pod. After grabbing a water-gel pouch from her emergency stash, she propped her bare foot up on the console and leaned back in her seat. She stared up at the night sky and listened to the endlessly crashing waves. It wasn’t as consistent or subtle as the hum of machinery on an interstellar ship, but it was just as soothing — if not more so.
Twisting off the lid of the pouch, she brought it to her lips and squeezed the gel into her mouth. It immediately liquified. Though it was refreshing, the gel always had an unidentifiable aftertaste. She’d have to make a trip tomorrow to the stream she and Vasil had found to fill the filtration containers with real water.
The stars seemed so different from land, so distant and small, and though they’d surrounded Theo for most of her life, she’d never truly looked at them. They were nothing more than balls of hot gas, but from here on Halora, they were almost…magical. There hadn’t been much magic or hope for her as a child. What good would stars have done for her? They sure as hell couldn’t have fed her, kept her warm at night, or protected from harm. Wishing on fallen stars was dangerous — all it did was make people hope for things that could never be.
“Do you think the IDC was covering something up?” Theo asked quietly.
“I’m sure the IDC covers many things up,” Kane replied. “As far as this place…it seems quite probable.”
“But why? There’s clean water, food, and life. It’s a perfect world to colonize.” She frowned. “If Vasil is telling the truth and there are humans here, this place was colonized. Why wouldn’t there be any records? Why classify it as uninhabitable?
“Prior colonization is but one of the many possible explanations. There might have been a single ship that landed here and had enough interaction with the natives to pass on our language and a basic understanding of our way of life. Speculation won’t be of much help to us.”
Theo sighed heavily and tossed the empty water-gel pouch to the floor. “No, it won’t. But I know who can give us some answers.” She lifted her head and raised her voice. “Hey, Vasil, why don’t you come join me?”
“You’re inviting him inside?” Kane demanded.
“Why not? What’s he going to do?”
“Oh, no reason for alarm. He only pushed this pod across thirty meters of sand by himself and tore that plant creature apart like it was made of paper.”
“Exactly,” she whispered. “Both of those instances were to help me. If he wanted to hurt me, he could have done so a hundred times over by now.”
“Did you call me, Theo?” Vasil asked from outside the pod.
“Why don’t you come up here? Let’s have a chat.”
“Would it not be more accommodating for you to come out here?”
Theo wiggled in the seat. “Nope. I’m quite comfortable. Get your ass up here, kraken.”
He was silent for a moment; Theo pressed her lips together and listened but heard only the continued sighing of the nearby waves. Just as she was about to speak again, the pod wobbled and rocked. Vasil’s shadowy form blotted out the stars.
“I am here.”
“Kane, power up the console,” Theo said.
The console came to life, its light chasing away the darkness and casting a blue and yellow glow on his gray skin. He narrowed his strange eyes briefly, and his pupils contracted from almost-circles to that odd rectangular shape.
Theo patted the seat next to her. “Come sit.”
Vasil slowly swept his gaze over the interior of the pod and shook his head. “Here is fine.”
She arched a brow. “Are you scared of me?”
He adjusted his stance, grasping the edge of the entry and offering full view of the long black claws on his fingers as he leaned a little closer. “No. Are you not scared of me?”
Theo dropped her foot to the floor and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her hands dangle between them. She held his gaze. “Should I be?”
“My point this whole time is that you should be,” Kane muttered.
Vasil unwaveringly held her gaze. She wasn’t sure how long it was before he spoke again; it could’ve been ten seconds
or ten minutes. “I am comfortable here.”
Theo shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Did you need something?”
“I want you to tell me about yourself, your people, and the humans here.”
Wariness tightened his features. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“I’m curious as to why IDC would deem this planet unfit for human habitation when it is not only safe, but already colonized.”
He frowned and shook his head. “Safe is not the right word for Halora, Theo.”
Theo tried to ignore the tingle that traveled through her each time her name rumbled up from his chest. It was a gentle but possessive caress. She shouldn’t have felt anything of the sort, especially not because of him. He wasn’t even human!
“What word would you use?” she asked.
“Alive. Hungry. Humans and kraken remain the apex predators, but the snatcher is only one of the things that would gladly kill and eat you on this world.”
Theo tilted her head. “Are you trying to scare me, Vasil?”
“I am trying to keep you safe,” he replied, expression grave. “Fear is an aspect of self-preservation. It is necessary.”
“This planet is no different from the others that humans have occupied. There will always be creatures that are faster and stronger than we are, but as far as I know, we’ve never come across anything like you.” She pushed herself to her feet and stepped closer to him.
“You made us.”
Theo stilled.
“And what is that meant to imply?” Kane demanded out loud from the console speaker.
Theo was glad Kane was coherent enough to respond — she sure as hell wasn’t. Did Vasil seriously mean that humans…created him?
Vasil’s lip curled, flashing pointed teeth, and he averted his gaze.
“Oh, hell no. You don’t get to turn away and stop talking after a statement like that,” Theo said.
Fallen from the Stars Page 4