Veiled Planet (Hidden World Trilogy Book 1)

by Teagan Kearney

  She raised the pistol, it had a range of approximately a quarter of a klick, but she was a lousy shot. Martial arts, self-defense, in fact, any of the physical skills that helped the colonists survive fell into the category of no ability and even less interest. But while Kara intellectually understood the longer she delayed the more she increased her chances of hitting the creature, her hands shook as she observed the slavering mouth and sharp canines as the bear increased its speed.

  The bear’s fast rolling gait made it hard to get a fix on a vulnerable spot, but she zeroed in on the left eye. She aimed, fired, and hit the animal in the shoulder. Damn. She fired another shot. The stunner had ten more shots before it needed recharging, but the rabid predator closing in on her clearly had a quick lunch on its mind. Her next shot hit the upper chest and made not a whit of difference to its approach. She fired again, and the stun charge struck close to her first shot. The animal’s pelt shivered, but it came on relentlessly. An irrational urge to flee seized her, but the bear would outpace her in minutes, if not seconds. No, she’d stand and face her death. She fired repeatedly. With each hit the creature keened, an eerie high-pitched moan, began to slow but didn’t stop.

  She kept count in her head. Three shots left. Nothing worse than thinking you have ammunition you haven’t, their instructor had joked at every session as he hammered the necessity of this procedure over and over into their brains.

  The bear finally slowed and part of her mind continued analyzing the animal even as the gap between them narrowed. She noted the unkempt fur, emaciated hide, and the prominence of its ribcage. The beast must be far from its home territory, making it more dangerous as its need for her warm-blooded flesh was greater.

  At this distance, she couldn’t miss, and, as the bear closed, she could see its red pupils and smell its rank fetid breath. She pumped out the last shots, clinically observing the bear’s pelt shimmer and quiver, as each shot hit home, yet she still managed to miss its vital organs. After the last shot, and impelled by an undeniable primal compulsion, she dropped the stunner, turned and fled—her last chance as the adrenaline boost would only last for another few minutes.

  After inhaling the delicate flavor of a prospective meal, the bear, galvanized by the sight of its prey escaping, intensified its pursuit.

  Kara scrambled and slithered down the escarpment, trying to avoid the small boulders and stones littering the surface. She hit a patch of shale and lost her balance. Sharp stones scraped the skin off her arm as she slid. Stumbling to her feet, she threw a backward glance at her pursuer and noticed the bear had slowed. The stun shots had finally had some effect, and she’d gained a tiny lead. She sucked in a deep breath and took off running.

  Then it happened. Her foot landed on a small rock, and as her ankle turned, she lost her balance and toppled sideways. A fierce stabbing pain shot up her leg as her full weight bore down on the twisted ankle.

  The bear stalked toward her, its massive claw-tipped paws moving softly on the slope. She tried to get up but arrows of agony shot up her leg. She hadn’t panicked, and had given her best, but she was going to die. If her father could have seen her, he would be proud of her. Shortly she would join her mother.

  The last of the adrenaline drained out of her body and she shut her eyes as the backlash of fatigue hit. Shaking and terrified, she curled into a fetal position, and squeezed her eyes tight as she attempted to block out the awful sight and sound of her approaching death. She lay paralyzed, expecting to feel the kallin bear’s teeth and claws rip and shred her skin and muscles at any second as it prepared to feed. Please let it be quick, she begged.

  Chapter Two: Family

  Colony Settlement Rule 80:

  Children born in new colonies where contact has taken place must be fluent in the languages of any indigenous hominid species. This practice has been shown to advance assimilation. (See appendices 3001 section F for the definition of ‘new’.)

  Razor sharp claws seared the length of Kara’s leg. She shrieked in sudden shock, but a roaring howl drowned her screams. The roar faded to a keening wail that died as a massive weight crashed to the ground so close to where Kara lay that her body bounced with the impact. She hardly dared breathe.

  Then silence except for the soft sigh of the wind.

  “Are you hurt?” The voice spoke in Marut.

  Kara looked up, the pain in her leg receding to a stinging pulse, startled to see a mature Marut man standing over the bear. The animal currently sported a vicious crossbow bolt sticking out of the back of its head, and was very dead. She looked at her leg. Blood seeped from two long cuts where the bear’s claws had ripped through her pants. The cuts weren’t deep, but they stung as if she was being stabbed with needles, the skin around them was turning an ugly purple, and her ankle throbbed. She stared at the Marut, glanced over at the dead bear then back to the man as her brain attempted to process what she was seeing. “You saved my life.” She blinked the tears away, her voice choking at her narrow escape.

  The man squatted down, pulling a long wickedly sharp-edged blade out of a sheath at his waist. “We’ve been tracking this animal for a week. I saw you shoot at him. You did well, and you made my kill easy. You have courage.”

  Like most settlers, Kara had no experience with the indigenous people, and had only seen one or two of the annual trade delegates at a distance. The Marut language, however, had been picked up by the early colonists’ translator programs and was routinely taught on the understanding that eventually the Maruts would open up and accept the new technology colonists offered. In addition, prior to his wife Anya’s death, both of her parents had always been part of the trade delegation dealing with the Marut tribespeople. Her father, Lorkan, was still one of the most fluent speakers in the colony. Suddenly she was grateful for her father’s insistence on endless practice till she became proficient.

  The man wore the traditional jerkin and loose pants of satyr wool in muted shades of green, gray, and red providing perfect camouflage, and boots of satyr hide. Satyrs came in all colors of the spectrum, as if whoever designed them decided they would save the Maruts the hassle of dying their hides different colors.

  She flinched away from him as he approached and bent down in front of her. “I’m just going to cut the leg of your trews off and look at your wound,” he said, putting his hand on her knee and holding it still. Up close the knife in his hand looked like something out of prehistory, yet proved lethal despite its primitive appearance as it glided through the material of her pants, exposing the cuts. “Not too deep, but they must be cleaned soon.”

  Kara pushed herself up on one elbow, gasping at the sudden move. She didn’t know which was worse—her leg or her ankle. She waited till the pain subsided to a bearable level and her breathing returned to normal before gingerly sitting up further.

  The man moved over to the dead predator, and, using his knife, made several incisions into the flesh around the head of the crossbow bolt, and extracted it with quick economical movements. Ignoring the gore and bloody mess left in the bear’s head, he wiped the bolt head clean on the pelt before stowing the bolt away.

  Kara’s stomach lurched at the sight of the creature’s blood and brains. She looked away, studying the delicate coloring of the moss on the nearby ground, as the last thing she wanted to do in front of this man was vomit. At the sound of voices, her spirits rose. This must be Nina and a couple of others coming to look for her. They’d have to help her walk but Kara’s slight build meant that wouldn’t be difficult.

  The man turned toward the voices, and shouted at them.

  At first, Kara was puzzled, but as a group of similarly clothed natives came running up, all holding crossbows, she understood her error.

  She hadn’t caught what her rescuer said but it made the new arrivals laugh. She listened to the fluid and almost musical Marut language as they bantered rapidly back and forth, until they saw her and the mood changed.

  Kara flushed bright red under their scrutiny. With
her pale skin and short dark hair, she knew she must appear alien to them. Yet despite being vulnerable and weak, she forced herself to meet their gaze without flinching. The colonists hadn’t learned much about the finer aspects of tribal etiquette, and anything relevant seemed to have been shaken out of her in the recent encounter with the kallin bear. She ignored the burning cuts and the throbbing in her ankle and attempted a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace. Surely they could see she presented no threat?

  The first man spoke. “My name is Ikeya. I am the leader of this group of….” He finished in a burst of Marut resulting in more laughter and embarrassed looks. He’d spoken too fast for Kara to catch the meaning of every word, but gestured at the newcomers naming them in turn.

  The first young man he introduced as Rishi, and as Kara met his gaze, she felt a jolt of something, she wasn’t sure what, that made her blink in surprise.

  Rishi’s eyes widened, but then he glowered at her with such dislike that her stomach knotted and she didn’t catch the names of the others.

  Ikeya spoke sharply and the younger man looked away, wiping the hostile look off his face.

  Kara tried to focus, and her nerves receded as the scientist in her concentrated on the natives’ appearance. The colonists taught there wasn’t much difference between one Marut and another, with little diversification in skin and hair pigments, but she could see clear variations. Ikeya’s skin was a darker shade than Rishi’s burnished gold, and from what she could see, the others were also different shades. ‘Assumptions should be proven or disproven by facts’ was a favorite quote of her biology tutor.

  Her train of thoughts broke as Ikeya spoke. “You will come with us,” he told her, “you can’t walk back to your home. We’ll look after you.”

  Kara was horrified. Visions of the panic and search that were certain to arise when her unit commander realized she was missing flashed through her mind. If the ensuing search didn’t find her, her father would be wild with worry. “No. It’s kind of you to offer but there’s a group of us. We’re on a training exercise.” The words came out in a panicky rush, and she hoped they understood her Marut. “I have to get back to our camp. People will be searching for me.”

  She tailed off as Ikeya barked instructions and the group sprang into action as fast as any crack military unit she’d seen in training.

  Ikeya held his hand out to her. “Come” he commanded, “you must move. They are going to…” and he waved in the direction of the dead bear, “how shall I explain it? We’re going to cut the hide off? Yes?” He placed an arm under her elbow and pulled her to her feet.

  She kept the weight off her injured foot, doing her best to ignore the burning cuts and blood dripping down her leg. With his arm around her waist, she half hopped and was half carried away from where the dead animal sprawled on its front.

  He settled her on a nearby slab of rock. “Your foot is hurt too? Show me,” he said.

  Kara recognized a leader who didn’t brook insurrection when she met one. Gritting her teeth, she slowly removed her boot.

  Ikeya cradled her foot in his capable brown hands, and she held her breath trying hard not to scream as he prodded, his touch surprisingly delicate. “Wait here.”

  She suddenly remembered her pack with its emergency medkit in it and looked over to where the bear had fallen.

  The Maruts stood around the bear’s carcass, watching as the surly young man smoothly finished skinning the animal.

  Kara’s eyes went from the glistening white fatty meat and exposed raw muscles, to the dark crimson blood pooling on the ground, and back to the Marut.

  He looked up at her, his eyes scornful.

  She blacked out.

  The smells were unfamiliar, and she could hear a man and a woman talking, but they were too far away to make out the words. She didn’t want to wake up because her head was heavy, and she was enjoying the sensuous feel of softness from the blanket covering her legs. Feverish memories surfaced of waking intermittently with someone holding her head up and dribbling a bitter brew into her mouth.

  “Wake.”

  Kara cracked open her eyes a fraction and flinched at the shaft of bright sunlight shining through a pale blue tent flap. She tried to figure out where she was but nothing was familiar. The world tilted and span in an alarming fashion as she attempted to sit up. She flopped back onto the bed, too dizzy to remain upright.

  “How are you feeling? Any better?”

  The face staring down at her swam into focus. She knew him from somewhere but didn’t remember where. Nor did it seem odd that he was a Marut. “Your leg? Your ankle? How are they?”

  Yes, something heavy and damp pressed against her right leg from below the knee down to her ankle. She grunted in protest as he raised the blanket and scrutinized her leg. She was vaguely aware of the blanket being replaced as she drifted off to sleep once more.

  When Kara next came to her head had cleared, and she remembered. She’d twisted her ankle running from a kallin bear, and its claws had sliced her leg open as it died. Neither injury seemed to hurt much. The Maruts had killed the predator and saved her life, but how long ago had that been? Another picture surfaced—the bear’s carcass—and she realized she’d passed out. She remembered waking up—more than once—as someone spoon fed her a foul-tasting liquid that had sent her back to sleep. Where was she, and how long had she slept? She sat up slowly and looked around, shocked as reality sank in.

  The colonists had never had any trouble from the many different groupings that comprised the native population though relations between the groups were, at times, volatile. What little they had learned about their semi-nomadic culture had taken time to uncover as, other than collecting the agreed payment in the form of primitive metal weaponry every year, the Maruts had collectively refuted any overtures from the settlers aimed at bringing their species together.

  Studying what was known about the planet’s dominant hominid species was part of the basic education given to all colony children. As Kara took in her surroundings, she realized she was inside a tent that replicated in just about every detail a picture from the early tutorials her mother had given her.

  The intricate woven tapestries in rich colors showed scenes from nature and recognizable activities from daily life, but she also saw depictions of events that meant nothing to her. Several large wooden boxes on the far side of the tent were covered with stylized images of flora and fauna in bold bright colors. Thick woven mats of satyr wool in their natural vibrant colors, covered the floor, and across from her lay a large pile of thick blankets. She swallowed, unable to deny the evidence of her senses: she was in a Marut tent.

  By now Kara’s unit instructor, Commander Trench, would have notified the authorities she was missing, and they would have mounted a search party. But she was here, ergo they’d not found her. She hoped it wouldn’t be too long before they located her.

  She threw the blankets back and stared at her bare legs in shock. Someone had removed her shirt and she wore a knee length yellow tunic: her cadet leggings and boots were gone, and instead her leg and ankle were bandaged with wide strips of white cloth. The bear’s slashes felt tender as she patted her leg. Underneath the cloth and plastered next to her skin was a dried substance that had left brown patches on the make-shift bandage. She hoped her immuboosts would protect her from exposure to bacterial and fungal infection. She flexed and rotated her foot. Her ankle was sore, but thankfully not broken. She made it to her feet, swayed a bit, but managed to stay upright.

  A sudden exhilaration swept her fears aside. This was an invaluable opportunity to expand the colonists’ knowledge about their planetary neighbors. She wanted her pack, and wondered if they’d stashed it in one of the painted boxes. She hobbled unsteadily across to the nearest box and was struggling to lift the heavy lid when Ikeya entered.

  “You are better?” He crossed the tent, paying no attention to the fact she was half dressed, and lifted the lid for her. The box was full of
clothes. “You may take what you need,” he told her.

  For some reason she felt as if she was ten years old. “I’m looking for my bag.”

  “My wife has your bag. I will make sure she knows you are asking for it.”

  Her jaw dropped. “But,” she began.

  The sympathetic expression on his face vanished, replaced with annoyance. “We have not stolen anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No, of course not.” She went quiet as she always did when a confrontation with a superior loomed.

  Two young boys burst into the tent, curtailing further conversation, and threw themselves at the man. “Ikeya! Ikeya!” they yelled.

  Now she recalled his name; he’d introduced himself after he’d killed the bear and saved her life.

  Ikeya’s expression went through a one hundred and eighty-degree change as he picked up the two laughing boys. With one in each arm, he swung them around; they squealed in delight at the top of their voices making Kara’s ears ache.

  “Makel! Masir!” A woman strode into the tent, carrying a small steaming cup of something hot. She wore a bright green knee-length tunic over loose pants, decorated with beads, feathers, and embroidery. Her thick russet hair shone with honey highlights, and her loosely tied braids were ornamented with multicolored threads and beads. Her eyes were light hazel, and she had a straight nose, full lips and a golden complexion.

  Kara stared. The woman was beautiful and her clothing the opposite of the colonists’ plain serviceable shirts and pants. In the colony old habits died hard, and although the settlers didn’t need to adhere to space regulations until the next step in planetary settlement took place, men and women kept their hair short and clothing functional, exactly as the first colonists had during their journey here through interstellar space.