Lunar Eclipse

by Gun Brooke

  After quickly fetching the captain’s sidearm, Moon motioned for Dancer to help her move the still-unconscious captain out from under the rock. Bending, she made sure the woman was breathing and then pondered how to lift the taller form into a position that would allow her to attempt this feat. Ideally, it worked better if the person she was supposed to carry had already stood up or was at least the same size as her, but no such luck with this one. After thinking hard for a few moments, Moon knew, to have any chance of success, she had to risk moving the captain in a way that wasn’t advisable.

  Kneeling, she tugged at the captain’s arms, slinging one over her shoulders and holding on to it, much like a scarf. She pulled gently and motioned with her free hand for Dancer to tug at Beaux again. Eager now, probably thinking it was a game, Dancer grabbed the other side of the uniform collar and tugged with gusto, nearly toppling Moon.

  “Careful,” she said, struggling to find her balance and push one foot under the stranger. The captain was tall and thin but clearly also muscular, which added weight. “Come on, Dancer. Again.”

  Dancer moved slower now, seeming to understand what Moon was aiming for. When Moon staggered to her feet on bent, trembling legs, he moved in behind the captain and gave her a less-than dignified push against her backside. This move shifted Beaux’s body enough for Moon to even out her weight across her shoulders. With one of Beaux’s arm draped over her left shoulder, and one leg over her right, Moon could now hold the limbs together with one hand and steady herself against the rock with the other. She sighed. How would she be able to do this? At least it was downhill to the shelter.

  * * *

  Something hurt. The pain behind her eyes…it came from somewhere. On the right side of her head, a throbbing sensation seemed to pierce Beaux’s skull and travel toward her face. Her eyes. She groaned and tried to sit up. The throbbing escalated from throbbing to stabbing, and her entire body tensed up.

  “Hush,” an unknown female voice said just above a whisper. “You have to be quiet.”

  “What? Who are you?” Beaux could barely get the words out. She squinted at the dark form next to her.

  “Shh.” The woman pressed something cool against Beaux’s temple. “Just be still.”

  Blinking away beads of sweat, or were they tears of pain, from her eyes, Beaux looked up at the outline of a person above her. This was not one of her crew. Was it one of the researchers who worked for Ilienta? Judging from the slight build of the person before her, this wasn’t one of the female miners.

  “Who are you?” Beaux whispered as the woman wrapped something around her head, keeping what could be a bandage in place.

  The woman bent closer, and a long, silken part of her hair uncoiled and fell against Beaux’s neck. “I’m Moon,” the woman said quietly.

  Moon? Beaux tried to think through the pain in her head. “You work for Ilienta?” That had to be it, even if nothing else made sense.

  “No.” Moon’s voice was soft, but she still spat the word with force.

  “Then who—” She moaned as a new pain shot through her, this time in her left hip. “Damn, that hurts.”

  “Where?” Moon placed a hand on her cheek. The gesture should have felt intrusive, but Beaux was in too much pain to object.

  “My left hip. What happened to me?” Beaux tried to remember, but her thoughts came and went, in and out of some odd haze.

  “You fell off a rock. Some people fired at you.”

  Beaux flinched and bit her lip not to cry out from pain. “Zac! The man that was with me…”

  “I’m sorry. I think he is dead. The men said so.”

  What men was Moon talking about? Who—wait, yes, the men who fired on her and Zac as they patrolled the perimeter. Beaux’s thoughts began to align, and her memories finally began to make sense. “Did you verify that Zac’s dead?” Beaux knew he was but had to ask.

  Moon shook her head. “I had to get you out of there before they came back—or the others.”

  “What others?” Beaux knew it would hurt to move, but still she pushed up and leaned against the surface behind her. It was hard and cold, but she needed to take a better look at the woman who appeared to have saved her life.

  “Your crew. I couldn’t let them find me—and I couldn’t leave you there. Predators. The ones who want to rape Haven.” Moon shifted, and light fell through some branches that covered most of the entrance to this…Beaux looked around…this cave? The light revealed the face of a young woman with long, dark hair, kept in a ponytail. It was still too dark to see what color her eyes were, but they were framed by very dark, perhaps black, eyebrows. Her nose was straight and narrow and her lips full. Moon was dressed in something resembling a mix between a uniform and organic matter.

  “Haven? Is that a person?” Angry that her mind still seemed sluggish, Beaux felt her forehead. Thin strings were wrapped around her head. Yet they didn’t feel like strings. Could they be vines?

  “Haven is all of this. This world.” Moon gestured around her. “And you must speak more quietly.” She still almost whispered.

  “The planet? It has a name?”

  “Yes.” Moon nodded.

  “Where are your people? Our scans showed this world is uninhabited.” Beaux rested her head against the rock behind her but regretted her movement, as it made it hurt more.

  “Here.” Moon took what looked like a threadbare, tattered piece of fabric from a backpack. “Lean on this.” After placing it behind Beaux’s head, she pulled a water bottle from the same bag. Moon then moved to sit next to Beaux. “You need water.”

  Beaux agreed. She sipped from the bottle, and the sweet freshness of the water was like nothing she had ever tasted before. “Thank you.” She handed the bottle back. “Now. Our scans. How can they be so off?”

  “I don’t know anything about your sensor results. I do, however, know what the invaders you brought here want to do to my world.”

  Beaux blinked. “How can you possibly know the nature of their mission?” She squinted at Moon.

  Outside, a low growl made Moon grow rigid. She placed her hand over Beaux’s mouth and shook her head. “Shh. He hears something.”

  Who was the woman talking about? Was her man outside keeping watch? What was going on—and what was that sound? It sounded more predatory than human. Clinging to the bottle, Beaux nodded that she had understood the need to be quiet, and Moon removed her hand and leaned close enough to place her lips against Beaux’s ear.

  “Don’t make any noise. I’ll be right back.” She pulled back and looked into Beaux’s eyes.

  Beaux nodded, and Moon pushed a few branches aside and slipped through the opening.

  Sitting motionless and barely breathing, Beaux listened for sounds of steps or voices, but she heard only the very faint rustling of dry leaves. She felt for her sidearm, but the holster was empty. She looked around the shallow cave but saw only the backpack. Moon could return at any moment, and Beaux didn’t intend to antagonize her by going through her things. She wasn’t sure if she was in danger in Moon’s presence, but she did know the woman had dressed her wound and dragged her away from an assassination attempt. How the hell had Moon managed that feat alone? Perhaps more of her people were out there. Moon had to be almost a head shorter than Beaux.

  The fog in her brain eased enough for her to remember her communicator, and she raised her right hand and reached for her collar. There, she found only broken parts and cut her thumb on naked wiring. The communicator must have broken in the fall, or Moon had destroyed it for some reason.

  Beaux heard the faint rustling noise again, making Beaux flinch and bite back a moan as her slight movement reignited the pain. The branches moved and Moon reentered.

  “You better come inside, Dancer.” She spoke quietly, but not in that frantic whisper from earlier.

  Who the hell was Dancer?

  The answer to that questions nearly made her scream as a furry creature stepped into the cave, making it feel much small
er. It stood there, looking right at her with dark eyes, its small, pointy ears moving back and forth as if it listened for something. The animal moved its nose in her direction and then gave a strange sort of snort.

  “This is Dancer. He’s my friend.” Moon crawled over to Beaux and sat down next to her. “Lie down, Dancer. You’re scaring Beaux when you hover like that.”

  “What—what is he?” Beaux stared at the gangly animal.

  “I have no idea. I found him as a baby and took care of him. We’re a team.” Moon sighed. “You were never meant to see him—or me. Seems we’re both set on saving you.”

  Frowning, despite the pain the expression caused in her temple, Beaux looked at Dancer again. “Wait. Is this—is he the animal that took on the beast from yesterday?”

  “Yes. He has a strange affinity for roughing up a brummer when he sees one. I guess rescuing you was not his priority but rather the lucky outcome.” Moon reached out and scratched one of the animal’s ears. This sign of affection was clearly well received, as one corner of Dancer’s mouth drew back, and his back paw on the same side started thumping.

  “So, he’s tame?” Beaux was starting to slump to the side from sheer fatigue, but this unlikely team still fascinated her.

  “No. Well, yes, I suppose. He’s free to come and go as he pleases, but mainly, he seems to want to be with me. He protects me. Perhaps I’m like a mother to him, as he was very young when I found him after I—” Moon broke off and pressed her lips together.

  Beaux was now so fatigued, she began falling. Moon’s hands caught her and guided her into a reclining position on top of some soft, fragrant leaves.

  “Just rest. We’re safe here.” Moon spread the fabric on top of Beaux.

  “I have to…contact my crew.” Beaux shifted and groaned.

  “Not yet. I have to figure out how first.” Moon sounded so determined and decisive that asking her to approach the camp was out of the question.

  It pained Beaux to think Veyar and the others would fear she was dead. Had they found Zac yet? The idea that animals like that beast would destroy the young man’s remains tortured her. They had been farther away from the camp than she’d anticipated, she and Zac, but her crew knew how to grid-search. Not knowing where she was right now, Beaux could still hope that they would extend such a search enough to find her.

  “Come closer, Dancer. She’s still too cold.”

  Concerned, Beaux forced her eyes open just in time to see Moon’s animal scoot closer and lie down with his back against her. Relieved that he indeed was warm and not too smelly, Beaux knew she had to rest to regain her strength. Feeling oddly safe, she closed her eyes again and fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Moon watched over the sleeping captain and listened for signs of people looking for her. Despite the bruise and laceration on her temple, Beaux was a striking woman with high, sharp cheekbones, a slightly bent nose, and pale lips. Her eyes turned out to be sky blue, with a dark rim around the iris. Her lashes and eyebrows were a few shades of a darker gold than her hair. Perhaps it was not having seen another human up close in more than four years that made her study Beaux so greedily. Seeing another person’s face mesmerized her, especially since the only one she had seen in so long was her own, in the reflection of the lake water.

  It had felt surreal to talk with someone who actually replied, even if she had sounded dazed to begin with. Thinking back, Moon wished she hadn’t been so eager for communication. She had been far too forthcoming. Why hadn’t she simply restrained the captain while she was unconscious and kept her mouth shut? People like Beaux had never given a damn about someone like Moon when she was a slave. She was property, part of the amenities aboard the ship where she served the crew and the passengers, catered to them no matter what they might ask for. The only thing she had ever been grateful for, apart from actually knowing her own mother, which not many slaves did, was that nobody had thought to train her to become a body slave. Those men and women lived a life of luxury, stayed in quarters other slaves could only dream of, but the price they paid was high. Moon would have chosen to self-airlock rather than suffer such a degrading existence.

  Dancer shifted and placed a paw on her leg. Moon smiled wanly and scratched between his toes, which he loved. “Good boy.” He looked at her with his soulful eyes and then turned his attention to Beaux. He extended his neck and sniffed at her hair, looking puzzled.

  “You’re smelling your first soap,” Moon whispered.

  Dancer repeated the maneuver and then lay down again. Moon peered through the branches and saw that the sun’s journey across the sky had reached the part where day would soon become dusk. Once the sun had gone behind the mountain for the evening, she would have to decide how to proceed.

  “Watch Beaux. I’ll be right back,” Moon said to Dancer and slipped out between the branches. She crept around the closest rock and raised her ocular to her face. As she let it travel along the ground and up along the different formations extending in all directions from the exposed rock, she saw small animals, the spiky, ball-shaped ones that could give you a nasty infection if they pricked you. Some animals that looked a little like very small versions of Dancer played with the shadows on the ground but kept their distance from the spiky balls. No raised voices indicated search parties. No heavy, boot-clad footfalls disturbed the familiar scene. She detected only the usual sounds of the forest at this time of day. The mere fact that small animals were out playing and finding food proved that no major predators, on four legs or two, were close by.

  Moon walked around the rocks on the other side and used the makeshift latrine she had fashioned. On her many hikes, she had learned to cover it well, or it might attract predators. She might have to show Beaux this method when she woke up.

  Returning to the cave, she found Beaux awake and trying to move away from Dancer, who was taking his order of protecting her quite literally.

  “What does he want? And where were you?” Beaux snarled and glared at the attentive Dancer.

  “I was checking our surroundings. And Dancer is just doing what I told him to.”

  “He is an efficient prison guard.” Beaux slid toward Moon to keep her distance from Dancer.

  “He’s not your guard.” Moon shook her head. “He was protecting you so no harm would come to you while I was out. You’re not my—my prisoner.” She almost said slave.

  “So, if I walked out of here and kept walking, you’d do nothing?” Beaux sneered.

  “Of course not.” Clearly Beaux wasn’t thinking straight.

  “That is the definition of being a prisoner.”

  “Prisoners are restrained and rarely treated well.” Moon was losing her patience. “If you walked out of here, naturally I’d do something. I’d have to accompany you and make sure you didn’t get lost or end up in the belly of a brummer. Like you could have done last time if it wasn’t for your guard there.” She spoke in a hissing whisper, glaring at Beaux.

  “Then I need to leave now. Sore hip or not, I must rejoin my crew. They need to retrieve Zac’s body, and we have to deal with the ones responsible for…for everything.” Beaux touched the bandage on her temple and flinched.

  “You probably have a concussion.” Moon tried not to sound desperate. “You have no way of knowing how to find your way back to your camp. You don’t know where you are!”

  “You could show me. Be my guide.” Beaux gripped Moon’s hand, firmly but not painfully. Moon stared down at the fingers squeezing hers. Aboard the cruise ships, nobody touched a slave like this. Moon had been slapped, kicked, pushed, grabbed, and dragged, but no adult had ever taken her by the hand for any reason. You didn’t greet slaves like that. Sometimes, small children would grasp her hand, and if she didn’t shake them off quickly enough, the parents would smack her over the head or slap her cheek. The confused child got the same treatment, as it needed to learn once and for all that she was a subhuman by anyone’s standard.

  “What?” Beaux shook Moon�
�s hand gently.

  “Um. Wh-what if I lead you there when it gets darker? That way, nobody will see me, and the ones that mean you harm won’t spot you.” Moon carefully pulled her hand back.

  “The longer we stay here, the greater the risk that they’ll come too close for comfort.” Beaux sent a frustrated glance toward the cave’s ceiling. “If only my communicator hadn’t broken in the fall.”

  “It didn’t break in the fall. Much.” Moon wondered why she felt so compelled to be truthful with this woman. “I think Dancer managed to chew on it when he dragged you onto my back.”

  Beaux looked stunned. “He—what? You carried me here on your back? Assisted by that, hm, guy?”

  Moon didn’t doubt Beaux had nearly called one of her saviors a beast and hid an unexpected smile. “I had to. Couldn’t leave any drag marks among the leaves. I might as well have put up a sign with an arrow pointing in our direction.”

  “True.” Relaxing, Beaux tilted her head and regarded Dancer, who was now rolling over on his back next to her. “He’s rather ridiculous looking.”

  “Shh. He doesn’t know that.” Moon snorted.

  Beaux snapped her head back in Moon’s direction. “Perhaps just as well. And I wouldn’t want to insult him in case I need his help. I don’t imagine this situation will deescalate any time soon.”

  Moon knew it wouldn’t. It was simply not possible. These miners and the company, Ilienta Enterprises, couldn’t be allowed to damage this perfect world. She hadn’t counted on having to rescue Beaux, thus missing an entire day of tracking what the miners were up to. Why hadn’t she been thinking of what consequences her actions would have? Why hadn’t she been able to look past the life of one person in order to save this entire area, potentially discouraging the company from doing what they’d set out to do? Ilienta was here to rob Haven and its indigenous creatures of the only existence they knew. They were here to take it from her. And that was it, Moon realized. She had once saved herself, instead of losing her life while trying to rescue the passengers that she, as a slave, was supposed to put before herself. She had watched the bodies tossed out into space as the ship exploded. She, the lowest of the low on that vessel, had watched her betters die and had not made any attempt to save them—not even the slaves she shared quarters with. She knew only their numbers, not their names. Was that another reason why she was adamant about saving the animals living on this planet? They were nameless, often dangerous, and the only one she knew was Dancer. At least he had a name.