by S. A. Ravel
The Alien Reindeer’s Flight
S.A. Ravel
Copyright © 2019 by S.A. Ravel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Also by S.A. Ravel
About the Author
Are you a STARR HUNTRESS?
Prologue
Haj’erel
Searing pain burst through Haj'erel's skull leaving blinding misery in the space where his eye should have been. The roar of air in his ear barely covered his half-stifled groans of misery. They were unbecoming of a Tarandian warrior escorting his wajirae during the harvest, but it was hard to remember tradition and decorum with a constant trickle of blood spilling over his hoof to the snowy ground far beneath them. If it were the right temperature for the season, the chill might have given his burning wounds some comfort. But nothing about this planet was as it should have been.
For generations, the Tarandians sent their warriors to Earth to guard the wajirae on their yearly mission to collect enough chir to power their villages. In his father's father's time, a single pass over a human village could power a large Hidren well into the next harvest season. But something had changed for the humans over the years. Chir became harder to find. What they found didn't go as far or last as long. If not for the refining techniques the scholars had perfected, Hidren such as Haj'erel's would have no hope.
Their people needed that chir. It was the life's blood that kept the heart of Taraundus beating.
The other warriors flew on either side of Haj'erel, using their larger mass and still intact strength to hold them all high in the clouds where none on the ground could see. They would have loved to abandon him. Ujiwan muttered as much under his breath when the winds kept the sound from reaching the wajirae that led them. Lal'Jul would never say it out loud, but Haj'erel could feel his relative's unease each time he looked at him. If Haj were in their position, he would feel the same.
An attack changed everything. The Grand Hidren had to be warned. Alternatives had to be found. The portals would have to be guarded...if not destroyed.
Damn humans. They had gotten too advanced far too quickly for their carelessly brutal nature. Precautions like their shifted forms and learning their language no longer protected the Tarandians on harvest. They had all known the day would come when violence erupted. And Haj'erel had been far too careless. It should have been his triumphant second chance–the evidence he needed to prove his value to the Hidren. They hadn't even finished their first pass over the outer human villages before they attacked.
Since when do the humans attack?
“Why did you not change and reason with him?” Ujiwan’s frantic voice is like a blade in my ears. “It’s the only reason we learn their language!”
Ujiwan did not want an explanation for Haj’erel’s failure any more than the injured warrior wanted to give it.
“I can do it on my own!” The words left Haj’erel’s mouth with more conviction than he felt. He would not make it through the portal alone. He would never make it back to base unassisted. He couldn't see through the juice and the pain. The voice that answered was too soft for a warrior, but had all the determination of one who knew their words carried more weight than any other.
“We will not abandon you,” Das’hel insisted. “We will die first!”
“A wajirae is worth ten warriors, ma'her.” Ujiwan's voice dripped with hate and fury. Haj was sure that the younger warrior would have dropped him if he could have and left him to his fate. “We must defend you to our last breath.”
"And I will defend him to mine." The fear in her voice rankled Haj'erel. His little sister was never fearful. She was too brilliant for that, too good at her purpose. But she feared for her brother, the fool who'd failed twice at the same mission.
Another wave of pain shot through his skull, sinking the voices of his companions beneath the wind. The world went dark until they had descended from the clouds and landed by the entrance to the base. When his feet hit solid ground, Haj'erel released his quadrupedal form.
"Not yet," Lal’Jul insisted. "They may see us."
Haj'erel couldn't hold form any longer. He couldn't open his mouth to say so. He had become a prisoner in his own body, unable to disconnect from the burning sensations coursing through him or ignore the voices of those he loved, but unable to speak for himself either. How had an injury so severe not killed him? Why had he survived?
Lal'Jul tipped Haj'erel gently toward the ground, but his effort could not counter the harsh, quick dip of Ujiwan's shoulders. He expected a fresh wave of agony as his body collided with the bare grass, but there was none. Everything was pain. There was no room for more. Every cell burned either from injury or in protest.
"Find whatever bandages we have then prepare the portal for departure," Das'hel command. Above and behind him, the others moved to heed her order. Even Ujiwan, whose desperation to be rid of the evidence of the failed harvest was so strong, Haj'erel could taste it on his tongue, would not disobey his wajirae while still on the harvest. Her word was law from the time they stepped onto the Terran surface until the moment of their return.
Dash leaned down to brush her snout over Haj'erel's retreating jaw. Haj'erel forced his remaining eye open and stared hard into the swirl of colors until his sister emerged from them. The single moon of the planet loomed behind her, casting her face in shadow. Das’hel was young, but powerful with a fierceness beyond her years. She would lead Hidren Thule back to greatness. She would redeem his failures, but the burden should never have been hers.
"Stay with me, Haj’erel," she whispered in the childlike voice she saved for the meadows of their Hidren’s land. "Mother would not like one of her children lost to the Terrans."
The lie was so kind, Haj'erel felt an urge to pull her head to his chest and hold her as he hadn't done since they were young. But he didn't dare indulge the instinct in the wilds of this planet. The humans had become too vicious since the last harvest. There wasn't enough joy to make up for the danger.
“I'm not so injured that I've forgotten our mother, Dash,” Haj grunted.
“Your aijan then,” Dash offered quickly. “You can't find a mate on the golden plains, so you will have to keep breathing.”
His aijan. That should have been waiting for him on Tarandus, too. But that beast had fled the enclosure when his eye was blasted to oblivion. No Tarandian woman would accept as aijan a warrior who wore his failures for all to see.
If he survived, that future was lost to him. But he had worth yet left in him. He could still be of use to the Grand Hidren.
"The Hidren must be warned," Haj'erel insisted. "The harvest is no longer safe."
"And you shall be the one to warn them." Dash pressed her forehead against Haj'erel's. "Be quiet. Save your strength for the journey."
A shadow stepped into the light behind Dash, tilting its thick neck to peer down its snout at the siblings. "He has lost too much blood, ma'her. We should leave him to the mercy of the goddess."
Ujiwan’s words dripped with poiso
nous desperation. Perhaps he thought it best if no one learned how badly Haj’erel had failed. Without a body, they could make up whatever story they wanted. He would die, but his name might live on without so much shame tied to it. He could expect no better mercy from the Joyful Mother.
Behind him, Lal’Jul emerged from the cavern entrance in his bipedal form. Both healthy warriors took hold of Haj’erel’s arms and carried him inside. The Tarandians had taken great care to make bases look inside and out as if the Terrans could have built them. Haj’erel never cared for the way Terrans forced the surrounding nature to their will, but replicating the habit was necessary to preserve his people’s secrecy. Massive holes had been carved and blasted into the cavern. To the Terrans, it would look as if one of their mining operations had been stripped of its precious resources and abandoned to time. Only chir revealed its true secrets.
“Leave me, Dash.” Haj'erel kept his voice low, so the others couldn't hear the crack of fear within it. “No one will blame you.”
The wave of hurt radiating from Das'hel and creeping in her eyes made Haj’erel regret his words. He knew better. No matter how many in their Hidren discounted him, his sister would not. She would blame herself for the rest of her days if her older brother died on her watch. And if he died, there would be no way for him to spare her from it.
"I will not leave you to die!" Tears slid from Dash’s eyes, dripping over her thin black lips and into her teeth.
Haj let his muscles relax and his head fall back. A determined wajirae could not be swayed. Dash was determined not to suffer this loss, but she could not prevent it. There was a chill on the wind that didn't come from a shift in the weather. Slowly, Dash faded again into the colors and dim lamplight. Haj'erel closed his eye. There was nothing else on this cursed planet he wanted to see. This wasn’t where his life was supposed to end.
“He may yet live,” Lal’Jul said as they lowered Haj'erel's limp mass–Ujiwan with additional emphasis to make sure the fallen warrior felt his displeasure. “The pod in the medical bay is full of the Seed.”
Haj'erel's stomach clenched in revulsion he could not express. It had been too many cycles since their Hidren had properly refreshed their supplies.
"It can't be fresh enough to heal him."
"No, but it can keep him alive until we can come back..." Lal’Jul’s words faded from Haj'erel's mind. It took too much energy to focus on those around him, even the ones he loved.
He'd lost more than blood and an eye on this goddess forsaken planet. He'd lost his future. He had lost himself, what little of it was left.
And this time, he knew there would be no second chance.
1
Audrey
Dear Universe,
You can stop now. You win.
Fuck you very much,
Audrey.
She scowled at the steel gray storm clouds in the sky. How dare they ignore her complaint? If anything, they got darker and thicker as she watched. The torrents of rain had already turned her front yard into a muddy mess. Her backyard and the sagging, crumbling wood frame homes that once belonged to her neighbors disappeared behind a curtain of gray water.
Any other time of the year, Audrey would have been glad for the break from the drought. But the week of Christmas, with three months’ worth of supplies she needed to haul into Aunt Ruth’s house, Audrey couldn’t muster even a smile.
So much rain would make the lake swell. It would wash out the road to the highway. It would flood the few plant beds she got going this late in the season, keeping her dependent on the ration bars she got at the supply depot for at least another three months. She hated those things. They tasted like faux-butter soaked cardboard. One bite left her desperate for a hamburger. A solid week of the nasty things, and she would have given her right leg for a turnip salad.
Gone were the days of running into a truck stop or fast-food restaurant for a salty snack attack on the way home. That went the way of things like money, cops, and network TV. All the hallmarks of civilization disappeared when the extended droughts arrived. It hadn’t even taken half a decade for the world––at least her part of it––to come apart.
It hadn’t always been like this. Colton Hills was once a playground for Oklahoma’s moderately affluent. The lake was deserted by December, but the neighborhood was always perfectly manicured and ready to provide its owners with hours of boozy, sunny fun. Audrey hadn’t seen the home owners in years. In this new world, people needed weapons, medicine, food, and a way to keep it.
Some ran as far as they could get. Some gathered in groups for security. A few like Audrey hunkered down. In all cases, nobody had any use for Colton Hills, a playground for the rich. The sun was hot and unrelenting, not a source of fun. Nobody had much use for Audrey, either.
She took a quick inventory of the back seat, searching out which items she could take out into the rain and what she needed to leave behind. Until the next supply drop and credit dispersal, she couldn’t afford to replace anything. Whatever she took had to be able to stand getting wet.
The water cleaning tablets had to stay behind. Ironic, but the factory-sealed packets weren't waterproof and there was no point purifying water heading into the dirt.
For similar reasons, the salt couldn’t make the trip.
Likewise the ammo she bought for the rifle, at Frankie the clerk's insistence, was probably best left out of the rain. She didn't know how long it took them to dry, and she didn't want to need them and not have them. Not out here.
That left the ration bars that tasted like dog food infused cardboard. Essence of rainwater might improve the flavor. More likely, it would render the whole batch downright inedible instead of mostly inedible.
Nothing. She couldn't take a damn thing.
With a sigh, Audrey pulled her jacket tightly around her midsection and got ready for her cold shower. If she ran as fast as she could…she might twist her ankle and end up writhing in pain in the mud. She’d still get wet, but she’d be exposed too.
She shoved the door open and slid out of the truck. Water from the puddle growing beneath the undercarriage sloshed over the tops of her boots, drenching her socks on impact. The rain pounded Audrey’s body as she walked. She could barely hear herself breathe over the roar. Her head began to ache. Her back still hurt from lugging the supplies out to the truck.
And she’d have to do it again tomorrow.
Each step her clothes got a little wetter. Each step got a little harder.
As Audrey stepped onto the front porch, she heaved a sigh. One more disaster behind her. Then the ringing sat phone reached her ears.
No!
A wave of desperation tore through Audrey. She bolted for the door. Yeah, she might twist her ankle, but keeping the battery on that phone full was more important. She didn't have it in her to drive back to the supply depot in this.
Audrey stomped a path of mud from the front door to the living room. From the interior, nobody could tell she was basically living through the end of the world. The windows and doors were all intact and in working condition–though she kept the windows boarded. Paperbacks and reference books were stacked on the heavy wooden bookshelves as if one day she’d have the time to read them again. Even Aunt Ruth’s collection of china knickknacks were in their places. Audrey still dusted them dutifully when she did chores. The carpet and wood floors had seen better days, but as long as there were no holes, Audrey could make do.
The screen on the sat phone flashed angry red letters into the darkness. Incoming Call. Phoebe. Location: Unknown.
Audrey mashed her hand on the accept button, still gasping for breath. Living in the wasteland that used to be rural Oklahoma was great for strength training, but it didn't offer many opportunities for cardio.
Her baby sister's smiling face popped onto the video screen. Phoebe’s bright red reindeer sweater brought out the rosiness of her cheeks. A big grin spread over her face as she lifted the traditional chipped mug in her hand.
&nbs
p; If not for the constant static crinkles at the edge of the screen, Phoebe might have been upstate in the big city instead of on a massive spaceship heading out of the solar system.
"Merry Christmas, Audrey!" Phoebe took a swig and closed her eyes to savor the taste before finally noticing that her older sister was bent over trying to catch her breath. "Where's your cocoa? Are you okay? Was there a raid? I hear a noise!"
The questions left Phoebe’s mouth in a jumble, each more high pitched than the last. Audrey held up a hand to reassure her.
Pulling herself to an upright position, she coughed one last time and forced a smile to her face. "It's a rainstorm, Pheebs, calm down. There's nothing out here to raid."
"There's you and your supplies. That's enough for some people." Phoebe clutched her mug of cocoa. Audrey could almost smell the powdery, chocolaty goodness. "You wouldn't believe the stories I'm hearing around our sector. They say some places it's gotten so bad, they may have to stop sending transports to the ships soon."
"And down here they say the transports out west are overrun by Okies and Texans who didn’t get out while the gettin’ was good." Audrey waved a dismissive hand, hoping Phoebe wouldn’t get curious about where that left her. If Pheebs got curious, she would worry. She had a way of making everyone around her miserable when she worried, and while that didn’t include Audrey anymore, Phoebe’s husband was a nice guy who definitely didn’t deserve a panic riddled wife.
"You should head that way too, Audrey," Phoebe said, leaning toward the screen. "Or at least head to Jericho Town. Mike has some friends there who say it's a decent place. If you don't want to try for a ship again––"