by Leslie Chase
He’d made an effort to impress, I’d give him that. The deer-thing hung over a fire pit on an improvised spit, and he turned his attention back to the job of cooking it. I almost heard my mother’s voice: “You could do a lot worse, dear. A man who can cook is always a catch.”
Yeah, Mom, thanks for that sage advice. Of all the things I’d left back on Earth, her nagging to find a man and settle down was the thing I’d miss least. Her standards for me had gotten steadily lower, starting with ‘nice corporate executive or maybe a doctor’ and falling to ‘has a pulse and is single’ by the time I hit twenty-five. Some days I thought even the bit about the pulse was negotiable.
The night cooled fast, and the heat of the fire was a lot more appealing than the man I’d have to share it with. As I sat, I let my hand brush unobtrusively over my pocket, double-checking for the third time.
Yes, the field-cutter was still there. Not much of a weapon, especially compared to Fanwell’s laser rifle, but it would have to do. Maybe, up close, it would be enough. Designed for shaping metal parts, the tool’s molecule-thin force-field edge extended to anything from scalpel sized up to the length of my forearm. With its safeties removed, cutting through a human body with it would be easy.
I tried to ignore how brittle that blade was. The tiny battery wouldn’t last long either — it ran on mains power, with the battery only there for emergencies.
I’m overthinking this. Always a problem under pressure. Focusing on something else, I took the plate Fanwell offered me. Sizzling meat, not quite the color of any Earth animal’s, sat beside a helping of the few plants we were confident weren’t poisonous. At least he’d provided some greens — okay, more like purples — to go with the meat.
“Go on, try it. I know you’ll like it, Tessa,” Fanwell said, watching expectantly. I cut a small slice from the slab of cooked meat and raised it to my mouth. It smelled delicious, though not like anything I’d be able to identify.
And it tasted better. For all his faults, Fanwell knew his way around a barbecue. His pleased smile made him look friendlier, kinder, and for a moment I thought I might have misjudged him. Then he spoiled it by speaking.
“Never known a girl who didn’t enjoy my meat,” he said, smile turning to a leer, eyes roaming over me. I nearly choked.
God dammit, why did he have to be such a creep? I wasn’t asking for much, just some basic decency and a willingness to listen when I told him no.
Okay, maybe that was a lot to ask of a man like him.
“Cut it out, Orson, I told you I’m not interested,” I said, trying to keep the tone light. Not light enough for him, though — his face clouded, the mask slipping and showing the anger he hid.
“You ought to be, we’re alone out here,” he said, controlling himself. “It’s not like your life is overflowing with options, yeah? You need a man and I’m the only one you’ll see.”
“I’d have more choice if you hadn’t shot the radio,” I pointed out, starting to lose my temper. “And given the choice between you and a vibrator, Mr. Plastic wins every time.”
I’d had enough of dancing around this confrontation. Either he’d back down, and we’d see how long that lasted, or he wouldn’t — and that’s why I had the field-cutter.
Fanwell’s face darkened with rage, and his fist struck faster than I’d thought he could move. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. My plate dropped from my hands, hitting the ground with a dull thump. A moment later my head hit the ground too, stars flaring in my vision.
Fuck, ow, shit. Scrambling back, I tried to reach for my weapon. Fanwell loomed over me, a silhouette against the fire, and raised his fist to strike again.
Kitty Fantastic leaped from somewhere with a ferocious yowl that chilled my blood. Taken by surprise, Fanwell flailed at her, fist passing through the hologram to no effect.
I didn’t wait to see what happened. Turning, pushing myself to my feet, I ran. Had to get some distance, catch my breath, clear my vision. Then, maybe, I’d be in a position to fight him. Heavy footsteps followed: Kitty hadn’t kept Fanwell busy for long.
Idiot, you’re giving up your only edge. Close up, the cutter’s deadly. Let him get the rifle and some distance and it’s all over.
I told my stupid brain to shut up. Not wrong, but not helpful either. As I rounded the torn edge of the pod, I finally got the cutter free from my pocket and thumbed the control stud. It hummed to life in my grip, its shimmering forcefield extending ready to slice through metal.
What it would do to human flesh I didn’t want to think about. I’d see it for real soon enough.
I’d tucked my bag, carefully filled with survival gear, under the pod. Three options flashed through my mind, along with their consequences.
I grab the bag, run for the tree line. Fanwell puts a laser bolt in my back. Nope.
I keep running, leave the bag. Maybe I escape Fanwell, but then I die of hunger, thirst, or tentacle monster. No thanks.
That just left one option: ambushing him. I dialed the field-cutter’s blade up to full length, pressed my back to the pod, and waited for him to round the corner.
The heavy footsteps of Fanwell slowed as he approached the corner. Did he know I lay in wait for him? I adjusted my grip on the cutter, my hand slippery with sweat. Fanwell came closer, closer…
Killer’s howl split the night, a sound designed to draw attention and inspire fear. My heart stopped for a moment, blood freezing, and if Fanwell had stepped around the pod in that moment, he’d have plucked the cutter from my hand while I stood motionless.
But he didn’t. Purple alien grass crunched underfoot as he spun, a wordless exclamation on his lips. The rifle’s crack shook me out of my paralysis and I considered taking the fight to him.
Another shot, and a strange, unearthly howl. Nope, I didn’t want to step into view of whatever he was shooting at. If it distracted Fanwell, though, I didn’t want to waste the opportunity. I fished my bag from under the pod’s hull, slung it over my shoulder, and ran like hell for the woods.
I’d rather face the dangers Crashland held for me than have to deal with Fanwell — or whatever he was shooting at.
6
Zarkav
The awful sound and the feeling of unease grew stronger the deeper into the forest we ventured. Ahead of me, Marakz and his team moved slow and quiet, finally taking the need for stealth seriously. Izdril and Mi-Zrak drifted closer to each other, sharing their strength, and watching them I wished I had a mate to support me like that.
No. I would not allow my mate go toward this peril, I told myself as I crept along behind them, mouth dry and spear gripped tight.
This wasn’t natural. I’d hunted zsinz, the great beasts of the jungle. I’d faced opponents in the dueling circle. No danger under the Sky made me so fearful as this forest did. And that dreadful whine, almost too high-pitched to hear, threatened to drive me mad.
Demons. The Eldest was right after all, what other explanation was there? Even Marakz’s plan of simply killing whatever he found in here had merit, I decided, callous though it was. No one should enter these cursed woods, and if he frightened off other hunters who might lose their lives — or their souls — to the demons…
The noise got steadily louder, the fear worse, and we began to see signs of the fallen star. Trees torn apart by incredible force. Scattered pieces of metal, strange and unfamiliar, twisted with heat and impact. The smoldering remains of something, scattered through the forest.
And there, ahead of us, something even less natural. A mound of metal that looked as though someone had slammed it into the ground hard enough to half-bury it. A hollow mound, torn open on one side by unimaginable forces.
The familiar smell of cooking gree meat mingling with the strange smells of something else, something otherworldly. A star demon? Did they have a distinct scent?
Between Marakz and the mound, someone had imbedded a line of metal posts in the ground. They had an air of evil about them — try as I might, I
found no better word for it. To cross that line, I somehow knew, meant death.
The four Zrin ahead of me paused and looked at each other. Marakz gestured for Carnor to go first, getting a rude gesture in reply. He might be a coward, but Carnor feared the curse more than his leader.
I would not mock him for that — I felt no happier than he did about crossing that invisible line. I’d do it if I had to, but first I decided to circle around and look for a gap in the barrier. Let the gang argue about entering the demons’ camp: I’d get ahead of them and find out what threat waited inside.
I hadn’t gone far before I saw the fire pit, a slaughtered gree hanging over the flames and two strangers sitting beside it. Demons? I stared, unwilling to believe my eyes.
Of course I knew there were people in the Sky. That was a certain truth, not up for debate. But to see them there, sitting by a fire pit and eating… that was something else.
One was small, slight, with long hair. The other had close-trimmed hair and a stocky build. Both had pinkish skin that glistened in the firelight with no sign of scales, though they also both wore clothes that covered them from neck to feet. Perhaps their scales were underneath.
Neither looked much like the statues of the Sky People at the temple, and the creeping unease pressed into my soul. Demons, they had to be, sky demons cast down from heaven. Which meant that they had to be destroyed. I clenched the spear in my fist, braced myself to charge through the cursed line.
And then many things happened very fast. The larger demon struck the smaller, hard, knocking them flying. Another strange creature appeared from nowhere, giving the smaller demon time to get up and run.
The large one grabbed some kind of club from the ground and followed. I didn’t like that, though why I’d care about the demons killing each other I didn’t know. Still, my body tensed as he approached the corner behind which the little one waited. From my vantage point I saw them both, him with his club cradled strangely in his arms, her (her? Yes, I decided, the smaller one was female) with something shimmering in her hand. I drew back my arm, ready to throw my spear the moment he threatened her.
That moment never came. Before he rounded the corner, Mi-Zrak cried out. There was nothing wrong with the demon’s reflexes, spinning around and bringing his strange club to his shoulder. A beam of red light cut through the darkness and I realized it was more than a club. The beam passed Mi-Zrak’s shoulder, singeing her, and the others charged past as she dropped to the ground. A litany of curses made it clear she lived, but smoke rose from her as she rolled in the damp grass.
The rest of Marakz’s followers ran past her, shouting battlecries. I felt a strange pang of pride — for all that I didn’t like Marakz and his gang, they charged into battle against a demon and crossed cursed ground to do it. That took courage and discipline I hadn’t expected from them.
Another red line flashed out, this time striking Carnor in the chest. He dropped like a sack of roots and I blinked in shock. Was the demon’s weapon so deadly? Tales told of the Sky People’s weapons which struck their enemies dead from any distance, but I’d never thought I’d see such a thing.
The little demon took her chance in the confusion, pulling something from beneath the metal hut and sprinting for the woods. Marakz hadn’t seen her yet, and by the time he’d dealt with the larger demon she’d have vanished amongst the trees. I had to catch her.
I was glad that I’d be the one pursuing her rather than the others, though I didn’t know why. Telling myself it was the glory of the hunt didn’t work, nor was it because I wouldn’t have to cross the cursed line of posts. Something deeper and more powerful pulled me onward.
Finding her trail was easy, and following it no harder. Whatever magic she might have, her hunting skills were terrible. She crashed through the undergrowth making more noise than a blind zsinz on a rampage, she ran into trees, and her course shifted wildly. If she had a destination in mind, she wasn’t going to reach it.
As I followed her, the dread-inspiring noise faded and I regained control of myself. This female was panicking, running for safety. Fleeing the companion who’d attacked her. This was no demon, and no Sky Person either.
Who is she? What is she? There was only one way to answer those questions, but still I held back and watched. No need to rush anything, and if she had a somewhere to flee to, I wanted to see where it was.
She didn’t. The final clue, the one that made it a certainty, was that she ran straight into a kzor-pack’s territory. Those pack hunters were deadly-dangerous, even to a skilled and alert hunter. Unless the female was a lot more formidable than she looked, she was about to get herself killed.
Lengthening my stride, I outdistanced her and stepped out into her path to warn her away. Night-blind, she didn’t see me — no wonder she kept hitting trees in the dark.
The glow from her wrist wasn’t enough to help her, but it gave me enough light to look at her. She looked unlike anything I’d seen before. Pink, smooth skin without scales, cheeks flushed with exertion, her wide green eyes staring into the night. Red hair framed her face, tangled with twigs from her run. Her full chest heaved as she panted for breath. She was the most beautiful sight I’d ever encountered.
I froze, my breath catching, and I would have let her run into me if she hadn’t seen me at the last moment. Skidding to a stop in front of me, she screamed, her face going even paler.
Her hand came up in a perfect arc, air shimmering like a transparent blade. Trained reflexes brought my spear up to block.
The shimmering line cut through the wood as though it wasn’t there. I threw myself back desperately, but not fast enough to avoid the invisible blade slicing into my chest.
7
Tessa
In the ghostly light cast by Kitty Fantastic I looked at the first alien I’d met in person. My chest heaved, my heart pounded loud enough to wake the dead, my arms trembled, and the field-cutter shifted in my sweaty grip.
Laid on the ground where he’d landed, he glared up at me. His face hard and unreadable, eyes gleaming red, mouth open just enough for me to see his pointed teeth. Predator’s teeth.
Aside from my panting breaths, neither of us made a sound.
The alien warrior was taller than any man I’d met, and covered in blue scales. A pattern of purple and red wove across his torso and down his powerful arms, seeming to shift and change slowly as I watched. And it was hard not to stare at his torso. His chest muscles and abs were incredible. If a sculptor carved a statue like this, he’d throw away his tools weeping because nothing else he made would be as good.
Blood, dark blue blood, flowed freely from the cut across his chest. I felt as though I’d defiled an artwork.
Following his abs down, I saw the first sign of clothes — what looked like a plain leather kilt. My cheeks heated as I saw the bulge under it. Yes, this alien was definitely male.
It was a short kilt, showing off his legs. Legs that bent strangely, the knees pointing back rather than forward, but still firmly muscled enough to make me blush.
Whoever he was, my attacker had muscles any movie star or bodybuilder would kill for. Though I wouldn’t advise them to try killing him. His reflexes were enough to warn me off fighting him: I’d been sure the field-cutter would pass straight through his torso, but he’d moved fast, far faster than I could follow, and I’d only grazed him.
I swallowed, eyes drawn back to the wound. The field-cutter wavered in my trembling hand. For a long, frozen moment, the forest seemed to hold a breath. It stretched so long that I thought it wouldn’t end. The stars would grow old and sputter out and we’d be entombed in ice before either of us went anywhere.
Then he snarled and moved. Out of nowhere, something struck my legs and knocked them out from under me. A tail! That bastard had a tail and he didn’t fight fair.
I hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air out of my lungs. The field-cutter flew from my hand, leaving me with no defense as he pounced, pinned me with his weigh
t, and snarled something into my face. His teeth, pointed and frightening, looked ready to tear my throat out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. My eyes wide, I tried to think of something sensible to say, to do, anything that would keep me alive. He had no reason to spare me: I was the one who’d attacked him. My mind blank except for a litany of curses, I looked up at his firm, rugged face, expecting rage, anger, death.
His eyes, intense and gleaming red, met my gaze. I felt a shock of something like recognition and again we froze. Not that I knew this man, I’d never even heard of his species. But still, somehow he was familiar. And I saw the same spark reflected in his eyes.
A strange calm descended on me, and somehow I felt safe. Sure, an alien predator had me pinned to the ground, my only weapon lost in the underbrush. Still, somehow I was certain that he would not hurt me. Part of my mind refused to accept that, screamed at me to fight back, get up, call for help.
Most of me didn’t know how to respond. My pulse still raced, but not from fear. The alien’s body burned with power and I took a deep, shuddering breath as his intense eyes gazed deep into mine. His scent was like nothing I’d ever imagined, strong and warm and overwhelmingly male — it made me shudder, squirm, melt.
Tessa Hazel Ward, you are not getting worked up over this alien man who attacked you. It was as though my mother was right beside me, as though I was a teenager all over again and she’d just found out about my latest crush.
My cheeks burned and I tried to look away, but his eyes held me trapped like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming car. No, an oncoming freight train.
Kitty Fantastic spared me the embarrassment of having to choose my next action. My wristband buzzed as she blinked into existence and leaped at the alien, hissing and scratching, and my captor turned to face her. His roar was enough to drive poor Kitty back even though he had no way of harming her, but she’d already helped. She might not free my body, but she did free my mind.