by Eve Langlais
It proved as jarring as expected. Thumping. Jostling. The mattresses could only do so much to protect as they were flung around.
Then it stopped with a massive jolt.
Everything was still.
Quiet.
And they were alive.
He laughed. “Hot damn, we made it.”
They’d made it!
He couldn’t help himself. He kissed Dara.
She kissed him back.
A body wedged between them and exclaimed, “Family hug.”
For some reason it made him laugh, and Dara joined him. They were a family, dammit.
“We need to get out of this room,” he declared. But his haste was tempered by his survival instincts. He scanned the surface with a console that sputtered as energy fluctuated. The room pressurized, a manual operation, given the power was almost gone. They didn’t even have any light but for the handheld units they’d thought to bring with them.
It took more than just the crank of a wheel to unlock the door. His shoulder throbbed as he pummeled it, pushing it open from the bent wreckage until, with a groan of protesting metal, fresh air wafted in.
Breathable air, high in oxygen and redolent with the spicy aroma of the planet.
They exited into bright light as two suns peaked overhead.
“Where are we?” Dara asked, shielding her eyes.
It was Sprout who answered. “Where we need to go.”
Her words only lacked ominous music.
Of more concern…his wrist beeped again, and he glanced at his comm unit as it warned of rising radiation.
“We gotta go.” And leave their only means of getting off this planet.
Chapter 10
Despite it providing shelter, they left the broken ship far behind at Kobrah’s insistence. He worried about power core radiation turning them into organic puddles.
A valid worry, and even if the worst that happened was mutant powers, there was no point in sticking by the ship. There was no way of repairing the damage done to it. It was a miracle they’d even survived.
The only one who seemed happy about their mishap was Karo. With Moppet tucked under her arm, she skipped by Kobrah’s side, not minding at all his order to keep close. The alien planet seemed benign on the surface, but experience had shown it only took one bite from the wrong local insect or the brush of some fauna to find out just how deadly the unknown could be.
While Dara eyed the foliage around them with suspicion, Kobrah didn’t seem too perturbed. According to him, “We can breathe the air, which means there’s going to be something we can eat. No signs of civilization, so the worst we have to deal with is local predators, of which there are no indications of really large ones. On land at least. Which means our weapons should be able to handle them.”
“I’m more worried about the little predators,” she muttered, keeping an eye on the ground. The small bites were sometimes the deadliest.
“Keep your boots on. Soon as we make camp, we’ll get more readings as well as take some samples of the vegetation for poison and nutrient testing. Tomorrow, or the day after, we’ll hopefully make it to the mountain range we spotted and find a good cave to make a permanent base camp.”
The man talked as if crashing on a planet were an everyday occurrence. Despite having lost his ship, he’d yet to say anything disparaging. Had yet to blame her for the shitshow she’d basically placed him in.
“Did you activate a beacon yet?”
He didn’t glance at her when he replied. “No. I thought we’d wait a little bit before putting our location out there for anyone to see.”
Good point. Right now, they were hidden. Even the Rhomanii couldn’t find them. It meant time alone to rest, recover, and spend time with Kobrah, the man who’d made her sing with pleasure and whose first impulse once they survived the crash was to kiss her.
She should have felt guilty about the fact she’d dragged him into this mess, but she must be selfish because, instead, she was glad.
I don’t know if I could have done this on my own. They’d trudged only two hours, and she was ready to call it quits. The rough terrain didn’t give her any breaks. The sun beat down hotly. Her body lagged and drooped under the weight of the pack she carried.
But she shouldn’t whine. He’d taken the biggest share of the cargo, slinging most of it on an anti-gravity sledge that he could pull. A large pack even hung from his back. He wouldn’t let Karo carry a thing other than her doll, and as for Dara, she just had a small sack with water, ration bars, and a medical kit. One of her special daggers was in her arm sheath, the other at his hip, while her holster held a pistol with only a handful of spare cartridges.
Not much firepower if the wildlife proved active.
How long would they be stuck here?
The sound of rushing water had Karo exclaiming and dashing ahead. Dara bolted after her. “Karo, get back here. It might be dangerous.” But her bratty daughter slipped out of sight, laughing, “Run, run so fast from the drone, you won’t find me, I’m under the throne.”
A rhyme she’d never heard her daughter sing, and it no sooner ended than Karo was out of sight.
“Karo!” she screamed and ran, Kobrah passing her, the sled left behind that he might sprint.
He disappeared through thick bushes, the same Karo had slipped through. Dara followed next and emerged from the thick foliage to find a creek, the liquid rushing over rocks, clear and inviting.
Before she could yell at Karo to stop, her daughter was kneeling and scooping. She brought the water to her lips.
“Karo, no.”
“Get the decontamination tablets,” Kobrah barked, scooping her away from the edge.
Dara fumbled with her pack. The med kit had some pills to sterilize and render inert alien microbes. She held it out to her daughter, a brat who grinned at Dara, water dripping from her chin. “Don’t be mad. It’s good.”
“It’s dangerous,” growled Dara. “Come here so I can sterilize you.”
“No.” Despite being carried by Kobrah, Karo crossed her arms and, in that moment, finally looked every stubborn inch of her almost five years. Why is it now of all times she chooses to act her age?
Karo wiggled her way back onto the ground.
“You’ll get sick if you don’t take this.” Dara again presented the tablet.
“No, I won’t.” Karo stomped her foot. “It’s good water.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Actually, it is.” Kobrah knelt beside the stream and had his wrist submerged, activating the unit he never took off. A microcomputer capable of analyzing their environment. “By all indications, the water is actually quite pure. Better than the stuff on board the ship.”
She turned a glare on him. “Way to show support.”
“Why so peeved?” he asked. “I’d think you’d be happy there isn’t some microscopic worm tunneling through her intestines, eating her from the inside out, laying eggs that will hatch and use her body as a larder.”
Karo gasped, looked at the water she’d cupped in her hand, and spilled it. She scrubbed it against her pants and moved away, tucking close to Dara.
Dara glared some more at Kobrah until he threw up his hands. “Now what did I do?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“No.” He stuck out his chest. “I am a man.” At that, she burst out laughing, especially since he winked at her and smiled widely.
Despite his rather crude method, his words put a scare into Karo, who stuck close to them and displayed a warier eye on their surroundings after that.
Which meant maybe Kobrah wasn’t a complete idiot. But it should be noted Karo wasn’t reckless before meeting her father.
Good grief, he’s contagious. Still, Dara couldn’t stay mad for long. Not when the man declared it was time to make camp, went back through the thicket to retrieve the sledge with their supplies, then made several more trips. He returned with saplings, vines, and some leaves long and narrow in shap
e, almost like strips. She quickly caught on to his plan. Soon, she and Karo were braiding the leaves into a mat, which Kobrah spread over the framework he’d created by lashing support pieces to existing trees. Big, sturdy ones set back from the creek’s edge because, while they’d yet to see anything lurking in it, nightfall might bring different species to surface, or to drink at its edge.
The trees, massive in girth, didn’t have any branches until more than ten feet off the ground, mostly because Kobrah hacked them all over, leaving only a few spaced nubs.
On one knee, he pointed out those stubby knobs to Karo. “See those, Sprout.”
She nodded.
“Those are our special escape stairs. If I say ‘hairy button on a pig,’ you get up one of those trees, high as you can go. Can you do that?”
Karo nodded. “Fast as fast as can be. Just like Mommy taught me.”
The words struck Dara in the heart. Just what had she done to this poor child by bringing her into this universe? Why couldn’t the Rhomanii leave them alone? Her teacher had never explained it fully, but she imagined it had something to do with her missing parents. She didn’t recall a thing about them, nor her previous life. Her world began around the age of seven with her teacher, Annie, in a tiny hut on the edge of a vast desert.
According to Annie, Dara’s parents—reckless beings with no care for anyone but themselves—had abandoned her. Which was why Annie adopted her, although the woman proved to be more of a teacher than a parent. Everything was a lesson. The wealth of knowledge Annie had stored in her head was incredible. Almost as vast as her paranoia.
Once upon a time, Dara mocked her teacher’s warning that there were those who’d want to steal Dara for her genes. Then it happened.
Not so funny now. Now she wanted nothing more than to return to her teacher and ask her for help.
Make that ask for answers, such as, why? Why am I so important? And this time, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
But that depended on her being able to escape. Which seemed rather unlikely at the moment. If ever. On a more positive spin, look at Kobrah and his daughter. The captain had taken to fatherhood better than expected.
A bond had formed between him and Karo and it would devastate them both when Dara left. Because no matter how sweet this moment, or how much Kobrah might be willing to forgive, she’d have to run again at some point.
And Karo would have to come with her. Once Dara took that step, she knew there would be no forgiveness, and with good reason.
He’d hate her, but not as much as she’d hate herself.
Their camp took shape, the lean-to protected not only by the woven leaf mats draped on all sides but a fire, which crackled in front of it. The smoke rose in a thin line, disappearing into the twilight sky.
The two suns had set, but their diminishing glow hadn’t yet lost its grip on the world. Shadows began to lace everything, casting ominous overtones on every shape she saw.
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll attract something with that?” she said, gesturing to the bright green flames.
“Not really. While there are some creatures in the universe attracted by flame, it is also a proven fact that the majority of species, especially the simple-minded ones, are innately cautious of fire and tend to avoid it.”
“What about the smart ones?” Like humans and other enlightened races.
“If there are any, then they already know we’re here, which means we might as well enjoy the warmth of a fire. It will make dinner taste better.”
“Dinner? You going to hunt me down some meat and cook it over an open flame?” She teased, but also couldn’t help but remember. They’d done that for their honeymoon. They’d chosen to spend a week on a planet known for its mountain ranges and thick forests. They’d camped with equipment, the tent a popup that could compress into a small square the size of her hand. Just add water to inflate. Pepper, oddly enough, to shrink.
The planet where they took their wedding trip didn’t have any truly apex predators. Except for the trees. Harm one and you’d fertilize its roots. But the topiaries and forests didn’t care if you camped. They even allowed small fires using discarded scraps. Apparently, despite the danger, the sentient trees found watching the controlled flames fascinating.
All facts Kobrah had relayed to her as they spent that glorious week alone, often naked. The only time they spent apart was when he hunted. He brought back plump birds, once something that resembled a rabbit from Earth. He cooked them over an open fire then hand-fed her the choicest morsels.
He always put her first.
And she’d betrayed him.
She couldn’t look at him and left the camp, pacing the edge, staring off into the distance. Across the stream stretched an open field, the grass shorter than expected. No more than ankle high, which meant nowhere to hide anything larger than an Earth mouse. Or snakes. She shuddered. She hated snakes.
The attempt to distract herself didn’t last long, especially because she felt him behind her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
The rote answer—nothing—didn’t emerge. “Everything.”
“Starting with?”
“We’re stuck on a planet that we can’t find on a star map. We have no ship. No true communication device. Few supplies.”
“We’ve discovered a new world, which Karo thinks we should call Moppet 2. We’ve alive. We still have the beacons. Plenty of places to forage, which means we can live off the land.”
“For how long?”
He shrugged. “Long as we have to. Count yourself lucky. At least we found a version of paradise. Enjoy it and relax.”
“I can’t relax. What if the Rhomanii track us here?”
“Then we fight.”
“We can’t fight a fully crewed citadel.” Even if they were running low on drones, the Rhomanii bred copiously and rapidly. They never had a shortage of willing volunteers.
“You are assuming a citadel finds us. We lost the one tracking you.”
“There might be another.”
He snorted. “Now you’re stretching, especially since there can’t be many of them left.”
A good point. In the markets and taverns, she’d heard rumors, about people finding the decayed shells of citadels that had gone dark. Whatever powered their machinery was dying.
Maybe Kobrah had a point. Maybe they could wait it out. Would it be that bad?
She cast a glance over at him. He regarded her steadily, the rancor he’d initially shown to her seemingly gone. Or did it simmer under the surface?
“But the Gypsy Moth—”
“Will do just fine without me for a bit. Right now, I’ve got other priorities to handle.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Speaking of which, you left Karo alone.”
“She’s in the tent, and I’ve got warning systems in place to let us know before anything gets close enough.”
“What if Karo wanders?”
“The perimeter will sound as soon as anything crosses it, even from camp.”
“You’ve thought of it all. You always did think quick on your feet.”
“And you’ve become paranoid.”
“It’s what happens when you’re hunted day and night.” Across galaxies. Her longest stint in one place lasted six months. She missed that little house above the teashop.
“You can’t run forever. Eventually they will catch you,” he remarked.
“Thanks for pointing that out.”
“You need to deal with it. Surely you can negotiate with them.”
“They want me and Karo.”
“Why?”
“How would I know? I’ve never let them catch me.”
“So we let them know you and Sprout are off-limits and we offer them something else instead. Something of value, like ten free kills.”
“Ten assassinations?” A hefty ransom in the galaxy.
“I’ll help you.”
If only it were that easy. “This isn’t the kind of thing I c
an buy my way out of. Don’t worry, it won’t be your problem once we get off this planet.”
“What if I want to make it my problem?” She recognized that intent glint in his gaze. The attraction between them sizzled.
She couldn’t help but recall his touch. Her body tingled. It remembered. It wanted more.
More would lead to caring. Caring would lead to heartache later on.
“About what happened earlier…” She started to talk, and the words trailed off. What should she say?
He didn’t let her figure it out. “Don’t you start with any shit. What happened was going to happen. You and I both know it. There’s unfinished business between us.”
“Is that all I am, business?”
“Right now, I don’t know. Technically you’re still my wife. But I can’t trust you. You’re also the mother of my child. My child, Dara. Which means you can’t just make all the decisions anymore. I’ve got rights, too.”
“Being around us just puts you in danger.”
“And? You think I can’t handle it.”
“Of course, you can. The point is you shouldn’t have to.”
“Well, it’s too late for that because I am involved, Dara.” He gripped her by the upper arms and drew her close. “I was involved from the first moment we met. And even if it damns me, I can’t let you walk away.”
“You want to be with me?” She couldn’t help her surprise.
“I never stopped wanting you, but”—he leaned in close enough his next words feathered her mouth— “fuck me over again and I will kill you.”
She didn’t doubt he would, and if she did screw him over, then she deserved it. It reminded her why she’d fallen for this man. His strength of character but also his capacity to care.
She leaned on tiptoe and brushed her lips along the edge of his jaw. Tracing it. Feeling the fine tremble that went through him. She tugged at the lobe of his ear with her teeth before whispering, “Remember how we did it that second night?”
Standing under the moonlight, her legs around his waist.
He growled and pulled her close. “I do.”
“Remind me how it felt,” she whispered, running her fingers through the bristles along his jaw.