by Calista Skye
He shifts his position, preparing to leave our little shelter.
“Stay where you are.” I want to bark it like a command, but it comes out like a squeaky whine.
He glances at me.
There’s a reason I’m here, and this might be my last chance to ask him. “What do you know about Bune?”
He smirks. “Probably more than you.” Then he rolls out from under the flat rock, still ignoring my crossbow.
I follow him and crawl out into the sunlight. The dactyls are nowhere to be seen.
I’ll try again. “Tell me what you know about Bune.”
He looks around us, up and down the hill. “We’ll be safe for a while as long as we’re not seen by the irox again.”
“What else?” I lift the crossbow a half inch.
He doesn’t even look at it.
It confuses me. In every movie and cop show I’ve ever seen, someone having a gun pointed at their face becomes extremely cooperative and eager to answer questions.
“I swear, it’s like you haven’t even seen The Wire.”
He frowns. “Haven’t seen what?”
“Um. Never mind.” I want to sink into the ground. Why the hell am I saying these weird things? Now he has to be convinced I’m a nutcase. Social interaction was never my strong suit, and this guy’s refusal to play by the rules is making it harder than ever.
The only thing I have to hold on to now is my mission. And the crossbow.
“Tell me everything you know about Bune, and you can go.”
He reaches out past the weapon and pulls something out of my shoulder.
“As I thought. It was a gurit bush.” He holds the thorn up to show it to me. It’s a long, thin spike. “They contain an unpleasant poison. Do you have more of them on you?”
Suddenly, it feels like the whole back of my body is crawling with ants, and I shudder. “I think so.”
He grabs my shoulders and turns me around, and then I think I can hear a sharp intake of breath between his teeth.
“Are there any?”
He’s silent for a moment. “Just a few.”
I’m painfully conscious that I’m no longer pointing the crossbow at him. I’ve lost control over the situation. But my back is on fire, and if he can do something about it, then I’m okay with that.
He’s picking at my bare shoulders and down my arms. “These thorns are best avoided. I usually walk big circles around the bushes. They have a juice in them that make them sting at first, and then they itch. And then… well, they’re still pumping juice into you. It’s not too late. We should get them out.”
Tell me about it. Now that I have time to notice it, there’s definitely an itch spreading. And the worst part is my butt. I think my skirt rode up when I rolled in under that damn bush.
The caveman works methodically down my arms, and I try my best to stand still. He has a soft, gentle touch, so unlike what I would expect from those large, callused hands.
He holds his hand out. There must be fifty evil little thorns in his palm. “You have many more. But they are partly hidden by your garment.”
My hand goes to my butt to scratch, but then it glances off several of the thorns, and they sting like fuck. “Ooow!”
Brax’tan tries to take hold of me to turn me around again, but I reflexively step back and away.
He impatiently grabs me and unceremoniously throws me down onto the ground, making sure I land softly on my stomach.
“Hey, what the fuck!” I scramble to get up, but he easily holds me down.
“The thorns will try to set root inside you,” he hisses into my ear. “It can happen very quickly, and then they’re impossible to get out. They will grow on you and eventually kill you.”
He flips up the back of my skirt, and there’s a swirl of cool air on my naked butt.
I yelp and try to get away, but he easily holds me down.
Then I feel his gentle fingers pick one thorn out of me, rubbing one finger gently around the spot where it was, quenching the sting and the burning sensation. It feels so good I stop moving.
That’s also because his words have a sobering effect on me. I don’t want to be overgrown by thorn bushes.
His fingers are cool and gentle on my bare butt cheek as he systematically works his way up to the small of my back. It must be a pleasant thing for him to do, because there’s not much of me he’s not seeing right now. There’s a lot of skin back there.
What the Hell Has my Life Come to: The Moderate Pleasures of Having an Alien Caveman Picking Thorns Out of Your Ass.
I should be furious, but all I can think is that I hope he likes my butt. It’s on the larger side, and not everyone is into that. And some guys really like it. I don’t even know which is worse.
“Don’t want these things to take root and sprout,” Brax’tan says soothingly as he works. “Your skin is too beautiful and precious.”
So, I’ve never had anyone call my skin beautiful. And somehow it almost puts me at ease. He has the touch of a doctor. Or a patient father. Not that I would know, of course. My own father was many things. Patient was not one of them.
Brax’tan finishes with one cheek, and the burning is completely gone on that side. Then he starts on the other side, picking out a thorn before gently rubbing a cool finger over each spot.
It’s the most intimately I’ve been touched by a man for a year or more. I don’t even want to think about how long ago it was. I was never the most outgoing girl, and I had some standards about guys that most army base towns couldn’t really meet.
It feels good, is what I’m saying. And now that I know he’s just being kind and helping me, I relax more and notice the shameless little tingle that each touch of his hand on my bare behind sends to a spot a little further forward.
Brax’tan finishes with my butt and then carefully replaces my skirt over it while he works his way down my thighs and calves.
And while I’m relieved he’s done with that part, I can’t help feeling a flash of disappointment that there weren’t a couple of thorns riiiight between my legs there, so he would have to stick his fingers just a little bit down... and in…
No, no.
No. Let’s not start having fantasies about this alien stranger whose kilt keeps showing a bulge that I could swear twitches once in a while. I’ll be lucky to get out of this alive. I really should focus on what I will do next.
I came here to explore Bune and see what all the lights might have been about. And then I meet this guy, who claims to know more about this place than I do. I get a feeling he’s not kidding. Something about him is different from the other caveman I’ve met. Except that this one is slightly shorter than them. They’re all gigantic, at least seven feet tall. But I’d estimate this guy at maybe only six feet, eleven inches. And two thirds.
He has a glint in his eyes, too. Like he’s playing a part and he’s daring me to call him out on it. Well, I won’t be doing that until I know more.
“Tell me about Bune,” I ask him again, less aggressively this time.
“There is much to say about Bune,” he replies calmly. “But not to outtribers.”
“If I say I am The Woman,” I try. “Would that help?”
“If you say you’re The Woman? The legendary, divine being from the myths, who will be sent from the Ancestors to give us our own women back? I don’t think it would help if you said that was you. Because I would think The Woman wouldn’t ask about Bune. She would know all about it.”
How much can I reveal to this guy? I really shouldn’t trust him. He’s from a different tribe, and these guys take their tribes seriously. On the other hand, I really need more information about it. “Bune is not a mountain. It’s a huge machine for traveling in space. Between the stars. It’s hollow.”
He doesn’t reply, just keeps picking thorns out of my calf.
“Did you know that?” I prompt.
“I know many things. But not everything. Look.”
He holds his hand out
again. There has to be a couple of hundred cruel thorns. Some of them have thin, green threads starting to come out of the pointy end. I shudder. Those are the sprouts.
“There are no more?” I ask. The burning is gone from my back and legs and butt, and it feels fantastic.
“There are no more. All are taken out. Delyah can now stand up and return to her tribe of women.”
I stiffen, then quickly stand up and smooth down my clothes. This guy is a little too well informed.
“Which tribe of women?”
“The one you come from. Not too far away. That direction.” He points directly towards our secret cave.
I casually check my crossbow. Still loaded. “How do you know that?”
“Everyone knows that. Some of the tribes are talking about attacking your village and taking all the women to breed with and enjoy.”
“I see,” I say as a cold stone settles in my stomach. That’s exactly what the girls and I fear — another tribe attacking us. This is a planet full of capable warriors who have never seen a woman. If they learn that there are some here, in a cave that’s not easily defended, some of them will be tempted. Sooner or later. And it sounds like it’s happening.
“And what will you do if I leave to go back to my tribe?”
He scratches his cheek as if thinking deeply. “I will probably eat something. It’s almost midday.”
“Uh-huh?” I don’t know what else to say.
“Uh-huh,” he apes with a good imitation of that Georgia twang I was miraculously able to hang onto during all my moving around. “And you’re welcome to eat something, too. If alien women eat the same as Xren warriors. But I suppose they’re not the best hunters.” He opens his dinosaur skin sack and takes out a pack, neatly wrapped in green leaves the way the cavemen do it.
He sits down and unwraps the food, then glances up, checking for dactyls. “I think we’re safe here. For now.”
I scan the sky myself, then sit down a couple of feet away and open my own bag. I take out the brick of turkeypig stew that Sophia has made for me, just dry enough to pack like this without it leaking juices and fats all over my bag. It looks a lot better than the hunk of not-sheep meat Brax’tan’s got.
I notice him looking over, and I take out my soft pouch of fresh juice and pour a cup of the clear, pink juice before I take out some little packs of dried herbs that we use as seasoning and spread it onto the stew in my hand.
Brax’tan is just staring.
That’s cool. I didn’t like his tone when he took up his food. I’m not a bad hunter.
Finally, I take out one pristine salen fruit and place it carefully beside me. These things are pretty much impossible to pick from the tree, and it’s only because of Alice that we have them at all.
To my satisfaction, Brax’tan’s jaw hangs open for just a split second before he catches himself.
“Ah,” he finally says. “Not quite the same as Xren warriors eat.”
“No? Even though alien women aren’t good hunters?” I say innocently and take a big bite out of the stew. “Mm. Perfectly cooked. Savory.”
He nibbles at his own meat. “Hm. A little dry. Slightly stringy.”
I chew a little more. “Just the right mix of spices.”
He chews and spits something out on the ground. “Just the right amount of cartilage.”
I take a sip of the cup. “Mmm. Sweet. Some might say too sweet. Me, I enjoy it.”
Sweet things are very hard to come by on this planet, and in truth, the juice isn’t much sweeter than lime juice.
He drinks from his water pouch. “Mm. Tepid. And… bland. The only drink for a warrior.”
“Oh,” I say. “I was going to offer you a cup of my sweet juice. But I would never insult you by offering you anything other than a warrior’s drink.”
He stares longingly at the cup I was pretending to reach over to him, but which I’m now retracting.
“Ah. Well, I wouldn’t be insulted by it. The warriors from the Verensi tribe enjoy many types of food and drink.”
“Even made by useless hunters like my tribe of alien women?”
“I never said you’re useless. Indeed, my opinion is the opposite. Women are clearly most useful. But they’re small and fragile, and hunting is dangerous. Perhaps the warriors should be left to do the hunting.”
It’s actually a good point. But we girls have become pretty good hunters. Aurora and Caroline, especially.
I hand him the cup again and let him take it. “Can there not be women warriors?”
He sniffs the juice. “Perhaps there can. Being small might have some advantages.” He takes a sip. “But I agree with you.”
“That there can be women warriors?”
He drains the cup and hands it back. “That this juice isn’t too sweet.”
He keeps gnawing on his dry not-sheep meat, and I take mercy on him and wrap some of the dried stew in a leaf and hand it to him. “See if this is too sweet for you.”
He accepts it and bites off a big chunk. “Also not too sweet. It reminds me of some dishes that I’ve had before. Except more interesting. Alien influences, no doubt.”
“No doubt. Where does Bune come from?”
He’s not surprised by my sudden change of topic. “The Ancestors live here, we believe. They’re invisible, of course. That’s why you can’t see them.”
“It’s forbidden to come here. But here you are. Aren’t you worried about what your Ancestors might think about that?”
He bites off another chunk and chews merrily. “I think they’ll forgive me.”
We sit and eat in silence for a while. Our ridiculous conversation really hammers home my feeling that he’s not what he seems. He’s not nearly as curious about me as I would expect from a caveman on a planet where there are no women.
Brax’tan wraps up his empty leaves and stuffs them back in his pack, then stands up and stretches so I swear I can hear his muscles creak. “Time to go on, I think. Will you find the way back to your cave on your own?”
I get up, too. “When I’m ready.”
He looks around and up. “I think you should be ready now. Like you said, this is a sacred place. It’s not just forbidden for me to be here, but for outsiders, too. By all rights, I should have run you through with my sword as soon as I saw you.”
He says it so casually that the hair stands up on my neck. “Really?”
“Really. But you saved me from that irox, so I won’t. As long as you go back home. Now.”
Which is probably the smartest thing I could do.
“Will you kill me if I don’t?” I absolutely will go home. Those dactyls are scary. But I have to give him some pushback.
He considers it while rummaging through his sack. “Probably not.”
I get a short glimpse of something inside his sack. And I immediately change my mind.
I raise my crossbow and point it at his face again. “Good. Because I’m staying, and you will show me everything you know about this place.”
5
- Delyah -
He doesn’t even flinch, and hardly glances at the crossbow. Well, I have threatened him with it before, and he didn’t react much to it then, either.
It’s not like I want to do this. But I have to know as much as possible about this old spaceship, and now I’m convinced that Brax’tan knows much more than I thought to start with. My fear of the dactyls barely loses out.
He walks ahead of me back up the hill, and we’re both always keeping an eye on the sky. He doesn’t talk to me, and I have to scramble to keep up. I aim the crossbow away from him so I don’t shoot him accidentally.
Hey, he’s the one who started talking about running people through with swords. That kind of chilled the mood down to a pretty frosty level. Me sticking a crossbow in his face didn’t help. I need to know. The dactyl attack really made me determined to get away from this damn planet. It’s a matter of life and death, and I feel pretty justified.
The dactyls are nowh
ere to be seen, and any other dinos are keeping well away from the mountaintop.
Brax’tan has an easy, relaxed walk through the jungle, always scanning around for dangers like you have to. I can’t help enjoying the muscles playing under his tight kilt. Well, he got much closer to my ass than that.
His sword is thinner than the ones I’ve seen so far, which makes sense to me. The other ones look too large and unwieldy, although the cavemen seem to handle them okay.
The sun beats down through the canopy of leaves, and I notice that Brax’tan isn’t going back to the top of the mountain. We’re walking around it, and I’m starting to recognize the terrain. This is where we used to look for water and food during the first, nightmarish week after we were dumped here and Sophia went missing.
I shudder at the memory. We’d already buried Alesya, a whole lot of women had been taken by dactyls, we saw horrific monsters everywhere, and the only place we could seek refuge was inside the alien cargo container we’d been dumped in. And Sophia had vanished, which sucked the remaining optimism right out of the group. Shit, that was a traumatizing time. Just thinking about it makes me have to force back bitter tears—
“Oof!” I trip over something and fall headlong into the underbrush, but still miraculously manage to hold on to the crossbow.
Brax’tan is right by me a half second later, taking my arm and helping me up. “Stay on your feet, alien woman.”
“Uh-huh,” I reply and examine the ground where I tripped. “You know what this is?”
It’s a glass dome about a foot in diameter, sticking out of the loose rocks and gravel.
“What?”
It’s so clear and transparent, it’s invisible from most angles. That’s why I walked right over it.
“Come here and look right there.” I point.
“Ah.”
“See it now?”
“It’s a beautiful thing.” He places his foot against the glass and pushes. “And it’s stuck.”
“Because it’s a part of the spaceship,” I explain, because it’s obvious. “It goes down through all this debris to the hull. I bet this is one of the things that can make the light show. There should be twenty more. At least.”