by Delia Roan
Roana. Trinni. Mikkil. Mother. Father.
The living needed him more than the dead. He drew his attention back to the present as he stepped over a fallen lamp. The human followed, her shoes crunching over the gravel. She stared at the anatomy chart beside the door.
The human peered around the room. “What is this place?”
Jahle racked his brain. Did Roana ever tell me about dolor? What cures dolor?
He remembered his own childhood bout with dolor. He woke to find himself past the worst of the illness, but also that day he woke to discover himself an orphan, with only his older brother for company. He pictured the vials sitting on his bedside as Dogan broke the news…
Ah, yes!
He opened the doors of the medicine cabinet. A thick coating of dust layered every vial, and Jahle winced. Roana would hate this.
“That doesn’t look like food,” the human said, peering over his shoulder.
“Spices,” he replied. His fingers brushed aside the dust on labels until he found the right ones. He tucked the vials into a pouch on his hip, counting as he went. Only twelve.
Four children, plus Ketug and any other adults afflicted. Each patient gets three vials…
No matter how he worked the math, they were short.
It would have to do. His guilt over the theft paled in comparison to his guilt at knowing he could not save them all.
“Sp- We don’t need spices!” She stomped her foot. “Get me out of here, right now!”
“Hush, you are being loud. Come.”
The farther away from the heart of Kreebo, the fewer the lights. Soon, they were creeping along corridors with sconces few and far between. A fine layer of dust muted their illumination, and the human began to breathe heavily. Not from exertion, Jahle surmised, since her pace never varied, but from fear.
On Geran, her fear will keep her alive.
They slowed slightly as the corridor began to rise upwards, first gently, then at a sharper angle. They made it to the exterior door without encountering a single soul. It was to be expected. The Ennoi tended to find activities that would keep them out of Dogan’s way, especially when he threw one of his tantrums. Besides, nobody would attack Kreebo. Nobody left cared enough to make the effort.
“Airlock,” Jahle said, gesturing to the huge metal doors ahead. “Leads outside.”
Large crates lined the walls of the tunnel, and Jahle slung off his backpacks, depositing them on the floor. He opened the nearest crate and peered inside.
“What are you doing?” the human said. “Get away from there!”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. She had the sonar evaluator pointed at him again.
“The lock leads outside,” he said. Is she mentally deficient?
She sighed. “You said that already.”
He pondered for a moment. “Inside, the climate is ideal. Outside, it is not.” He turned his attention back to the crate. “We must prepare.”
She watched him in silence as he pulled out equipment and bundles of clothing. In a second crate, he found two sets of shoulder lamps.
“Here, put these on,” he said. He tossed the lamps to her and attached the straps to himself. When properly adjusted, he had a lamp on either shoulder.
She watched him, then began to fumble with the lamps, keeping one hand on the evaluator at all times.
“I can help you…”
“I can do it myself,” she snapped. Eventually, she pulled on the harness, though the straps were loose and one lamp dangled. “Now what?”
“Next, the protective gear.” He pulled a cape on, then donned the hood and gloves. The thick fabric was stiff from disuse. The canvas needed oil. Still, they were necessary. He propped the goggles on his forehead.
The clothing was easier for her to handle, especially since he found a child-sized set. She pulled on the glove, and then frowned when the thick fabric hindered the movement in her fingers. She pulled them off and tossed them to the floor.
Jahle bent and returned them to her. “You will need these.”
“I am just fine without them,” she said.
He stared at her determined face. Her eyes were as brown as the dirt in the farm beds. They made him think of hot summer days spent wandering the vegetable fields behind his youngest sister Trinni. The fields had burned during the bombing.
“Suit yourself.” He turned away, busying himself with the food packs.
The crates only provided one tether, and it was made of decaying fibers. He cursed internally. Two or more would have made a safer trip. It will have to do. He threw the woven rope over his shoulder, aiming to deal with the tether shortage when the time came. With the packs returned to his back, he strode to the door, and took a deep breath.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Behind him, the human shifted. The heavy cape rustled as it rubbed against itself. “For what?”
“To go outside.”
“Wh-what’s wrong with outside?”
He blinked at her, debating how much she needed to know. “We live in the tunnels because the environment outside is hostile.”
“Hostile how?”
“It is no longer livable.” At the stricken look on her face, he raised his hand. “We will not be outside long. We are taking a route leading to another set of tunnels.”
The tunnels would bring them closer to the Kastikan Ridge, and to the Water People. His hand tightened around the strap of the medicine pouch. Twelve vials. He might not be able to save them all, but if he tried, he might be able to save most of them.
Or I can die trying.
“So, this way is dangerous, but faster? A shortcut?”
“Yes.”
She scowled at him. The hood hid her bright hair, and he felt an urge to rip it from her head to reveal its color once more. Without the brilliance, her face seemed sharper, more desperate. Her fear blazed with a clarity that made him want to change his mind. If he took her back now, he could claim she escaped on her own. Dogan might even reward him for her return.
I must hold on to the scraps of honor I have left.
“Yes, it is dangerous, but you will not walk it alone,” he said. He stared into her strange brown eyes. “I will not step outside unless you make me. Do you understand?”
She raised the evaluator. “Get going, guy.”
With a curt nod, and a thundering heart, Jahle slapped the open button on the airlock.
By the Moon’s Glow, I will save as many of the Water People as I can.
CHAPTER FOUR
MELISSA
At first, nothing happened. Then with a whine and an ear-splitting squeal, the door slid upward. Mel clapped one hand over her ear.
“Is that going to attract attention?”
The alien shrugged, and kept his eyes fixed ahead.
Mel became aware of a strange howl, rising from underneath the door. “What’s making that noise? Is it an animal?”
The alien didn’t reply. When the door opened a few feet, he ducked underneath.
“Hey!” Mel scurried after him. She found herself in a metal-lined enclosure, bigger than her apartment back on Earth. The brushed-metal walls threw back a distorted reflection of herself, but the ground beneath was coated in dirt. Another door, identical to the one she entered from, occupied the far wall.
When the alien saw her, he grunted and slammed his fist into a button on the inside wall. The rising door groaned to a halt, and then began to descend. Over the noise of the metal grinding, Mel heard the wailing grow louder.
“What is that?” She pulled the cape closer to her body.
The alien flicked his eyes to her, then turned his focus back to the door. “Merely the wind.”
“The wind?” From the grim line of his mouth, she assumed it was not as ‘merely’ as he claimed.
When the door slammed shut behind them, Mel jumped. In the new silence, the howling seemed to grow angrier. She shivered. I
t was colder in the lock, too.
“Listen,” the alien said. “The wind is powerful.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He frowned. “You need to defecate?”
Mel rolled her eyes. “Guess that didn’t translate. Yes, I can hear that the wind is powerful.”
“It is not enough to simply hear it,” he replied. “You must feel its power. Otherwise, you will underestimate it. On Geran, only luck and the kiss of the moon separates the careless from corpses.”
“Well,” Mel said, “that’s reassuring.”
He smiled then, a thin crescent that made his gaunt face seem younger. “Don’t get excited. The moon hasn’t shone on Geran in decades, and luck left us a long time ago.”
He pulled the rope from his shoulder and held it out to Mel by the hook on one end. “Here, take this.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“It is a tether.” He jerked his chin toward the far side of the lock. “When the door opens, you will see a metal cable extending from a post across the open space. Attach this carabiner to the cable. It will help you stay on the path. The other end goes around your waist.”
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head so violently her hood slipped into her eyes. “I just got out chains. I’m not getting into another.”
They argued until the alien sighed. “You may do as you please. You hold the weapon.”
“Glad you remembered.” Mel watched in smug satisfaction as the alien wound one end of the rope around his waist and then slung the free end with the carabiner over his shoulder. He seemed twitchy to her. His eyes kept flicking to the door from which they had entered.
He’s stalling, she thought. He wants his buddies to show up and rescue him.
“Let’s go,” she ordered.
He drew in a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. Mel’s heart thumped. During their bickering, they had drawn closer together. Closer than they had ever been. His eyes weren’t just ruby-colored, but were speckled with gold and yellow. His lips parted, and her eyes flicked there. His lips tightened, and he reached for her face with a tentative hand.
Mel leaned back. “What?”
His fingers brushed the side of her cheek as he grasped the corner of her hood. He drew it across her face and fastened it on the opposite side.
“This will protect your face. Remember your goggles. I will go first. Follow close behind.”
“Huh, no way, buddy. You’ll lock me in here. I’ll go first.”
“What will stop me from locking you out?” The alien shrugged and walked to the far wall.
The sight of him fastening his mask made Mel balk. “Wait. Will I be able to breathe?”
“I can. I assume you will.”
“Hey! Wait-”
But it was too late. The alien slammed his fist into the button beside the external door. Mel hurried to his side, as the door moaned and rose. As soon as the gap at the bottom appeared, the howl grew deafening. The wind, powerful and wild, whipped into the room, throwing up the debris on the floor and rattling Mel’s cape.
Mel squinted against the wind as she set her goggles down. With them on, she could at least open her eyes. The door kept rising, and the pale electric light was replaced by a reddish haze. Mel’s mouth grew dry. She tensed as the wind pushed against her body, tugging at the strap of the gun and setting it flapping against her chest.
Beside her, the alien stood, legs wide. He leaned in to her.
“Follow the rope,” he bellowed over the wind. “It will guide you across.”
Before she could nod, he took off. Bracing herself, Mel followed. She stepped outside into an alien world. She would have taken in the sights, had there been any. Within a few feet from the door, visibility dropped to zero. All she could see was a wall of whipping sand, with a pale glow in the air, like the light as a thunderstorm faded.
I don’t know if it’s day or night.
Stumbling after the alien, she squinted until she made out his form, clipping his tether to the rope. She stumbled forward until her bare hand landed on the rope. She curled her fingers around it. Behind her, the alien tapped her shoulder and pointed.
“There. See the light?”
She narrowed her eyes and peered into the half-gloom. The wind settled for a moment, and she caught a glimpse of a dim yellow light. With no reference points, she couldn’t judge the distance to their destination. It could be a chandelier bulb nearby, or a stadium spotlight far away. She glanced up at the lock they left, but the light on its side was gone, a casualty to the weather, leaving behind exposed wires.
Not a problem, she reassured herself. Bet it’s just as far as the Starbucks around the corner from work.
She steadied herself with the rope, grateful that while it swayed slightly, it was taut and firm as she leaned on it, but the rough material pricked her palms. Tugging down the sleeves of her cape, she wrapped them over her fingers as makeshift gloves. She took a deep breath and began to walk, keeping her one hand on the guide, and the other on her weapon.
Starbucks run.
Except the cute barista is a surly alien and the Caramel Macchiato is Not Dying on a Strange Planet.
Easy peasy.
As a sixteen-year-old, Mel had worked at a day camp for toddlers. The wind reminded her of them: grabbing at her, tugging this way and that, making her head spin with its never-ending noise. Even with her protective gear, the sand found her bare skin, flicking against her cheeks and temples, scraping her skin raw.
A stench of rotten eggs filled her nose, and her tongue burned with the taste. She forced herself to breathe through her nose to avoid eating dust. Even with her head tucked to the side, the dust found its way past her goggles, making her eyes water. They weren’t built for human heads.
While she could breathe, the longer she walked, the heavier her chest grew. The air seemed thick and cloying, and soon, the muscles in her arm began to ache. She slung the gun over her shoulder and kept going, using both hands to guide her. The soles of her sneakers gripped the ground, but she planted each step to avoid the slippery pebbles.
Peering ahead, she couldn’t see the light in the distance, but kept hope that it drew closer. If the building had blown away in the wind, she wouldn’t have known. She was deaf save for the roaring in her ears.
Behind her, she spotted the outline of the alien. He moved steadily, his head bowed, but his back straight. Even though he was a distance away from her, the sight gave her comfort. He had not abandoned her to return to his people. She wasn’t alone in this hellish place.
The wind pulled the energy from her body. Mel leaned into the wind, using the rope to drag her body forward. Her fingers grew numb, whether from effort or from the cold, she was uncertain. Her arms trembled, as did her thigh muscles. She gritted her teeth, and her breath puffed out, leaving beads of condensation on the inside of her hood.
I’m not losing to you! Hear me, Wind? I’m not losing to you!
As if it had heard her thoughts, the wind suddenly died, Mel stumbled. The rope slipped from her grasp. The wind picked up again, battering her with renewed force. In a panic, she fumbled and grabbed the rope with her bare hands.
A sudden gust hit her, and with great dread, Mel felt her feet begin to slip. The wind buffeted her, sending her sliding back. No matter how she dug into the ground, she couldn’t find purchase. The rope dragged across her palms, and the coarse fibers tore into her skin. Mel yelped in pain, but she couldn’t let go.
Crap, crap, crap!
The wind gusted again, billowing her clothing like a sail. She was jerked away from the rope. Knocked off her feet, Mel slammed down. The impact knocked the breath from her body, leaving her stunned and dazed. When she became aware that the wind still dragged her, she tried to grab at the ground to slow her movement.
A hand grabbed her arm, jerking her to a halt.
“Stop struggling,” the alien bellowed. He was sprawled across the ground. “
I have you.” Or at least she thought he did. Her ears rang from the constant noise.
His other hand went under her armpit. He hauled her to him. When he had his arm around her chest, he grabbed the tether with the other and pulled them both back to the rope. During her slide, she had moved several feet outward.
What if I kept going? She shuddered and drew closer to the alien.
He staggered upright and drew Mel in front of him. “Keep your back against me,” he yelled in her ear.
For a moment, Mel was transported back to Earth. Back to the days when she would go partying with her friends. They always picked the loudest clubs, and guys would press against their backs and grind.
If he was just a guy, would I grind back? She shook her head. You’re losing it, Mel. Did you hit your head? Get a grip.
“Walk,” he commanded.
She did. With the alien supporting her, it was easier to fight against the wind. His arm, still curled around her chest, steadied her. It was like having a wall at her back. Her hands burned where she gripped the rope. Not letting go. She couldn’t risk falling again.
Step by step, they made their way to the end of the guide rope. Mel sobbed in relief when she spotted the wide door of a lock only a few feet away. The guide rope ended in a bracket in the wall, right beside another switch. As soon as she could, she leaned forward and smacked the switch.
The door rumbled open, the sound swallowed by the storm surrounding them. Once it was open far enough, the alien crouched and slung her inside. Mel rolled under, and lay on the floor, panting. She turned her head, watching as the door crept upward. The alien ducked under and crawled inside. He stood long enough to slam the close switch, and then fell down beside her, ripping off his face mask.
The door shut with a clang. The howl of the wind muted. They lay together in the silence, catching their breath. Mel studied the ceiling above.
I made it.
Thanks to him.
She turned her head to study the alien, only to find him watching her. A jolt shot down her body. He must have felt it too, because he closed his eyes and rolled to his feet.