by Renee Rose
“It sounds like the ruminations take you away from your tasks. Can you stop thinking of that event quite so often?”
“I deserve to think about him every day and suffer for what happened.”
She squeezes my hand. “We humans, the ones the Kraa worked on, we had a technique. We said we’d reserved a certain period of time each solar rotation for worrying about things we can’t change. The rest of the time we’d try to focus on living as well as we could despite our circumstances.”
“Did that work?” I frown. She said we, and I want to follow up on that later, but for now all I can think about is my brother and the memories.
“Not for everything. But even a little bit helps.” She strokes my arm.
“And that applies to me how?” My voice is still stiff.
“Do you really think you are honoring his memory by continuing to suffer and doing subpar work? Would he wish this for you or your planet?” She pauses. “Maybe you don’t need to punish yourself constantly, especially if it puts others at risk. Think of him each rotation once, and the rest of the time, allow yourself to put the memories aside. At least the part where you castigate yourself.”
The idea is like a bolt of lightning. Never once have I considered allowing myself not to suffer at these memories. The concept that I could put down the pain of my brother and move forward is so novel and exhilarating that I blink.
“Perhaps,” is all I say to her, though.
She sighs.
“You mentioned...other humans?” I’m eager to change the topic, and I do want to learn about her life and experiences.
“Oh, they made more than one of me. They wanted an army.” Now she’s the one stiffening up. “Many of their so-called prototypes failed and were eliminated.” She looks up at me. “That means killed.” Her voice is heavy with anger and pain.
“I assumed as much.” My voice is somber.
“They’d bunk several of us together and have us train together.” Her voice is contemplative. “Sometimes we’d compete to see who was best at tasks. They didn’t want us to join forces, but they learned that humans die faster if they’re too isolated.” She laughs, a sound with no humor. “Their allowances for us were based solely on monetary value and survival.”
“Where are the others?” I stroke her arm.
She swallows and turns her head. “I don’t know. They were all sold before I was.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes her eyes. “Now it’s just me.” Whatever happened to the other humans, she’s clearly in pain.
“Kailani.” I hold her closer. “I’m sorry.”
“But I’m away from the Kraa.” She sounds surprised, still, at this new twist of fate. “And alive. I’m grateful.”
Outside the cave, the hail is gone, and the rain has lessened to a drizzle. The newly formed river below us still roils like it’s alive, a thick, silver-gray serpent angrily twisting along the landscape. An entire uprooted tree bobs along like a branch in the furious waters.
“That river is impassable. But at least the sky is calm enough that we could leave the cave.” She leans forward and looks up at the gray sky. The two suns are hidden behind thick clouds, but a single wan ray tentatively shoots out.
“And that’s a problem. Because if we can venture out, so can the locals. And you can be sure they’re coming for us.”
Chapter 8
Kailani
I crawl out of the cave and peer left and right; there are no signs of life at all—no antlex, no natives. Just the roaring water, and beyond it, the fields. And somewhere far in the distance, I assume, our bags of flowers. The sky is still gray, but little patches of silver and pink peek through, making that solitary beam of sun seem friendly. Like nature is on our side.
“We need to get across that water first.” Khrys stands beside me, tall and powerful. “We’ll find the narrowest part of the wash and lay something across it. Perhaps I can find a tree trunk as a bridge.”
But even as he speaks, the water slows down. “Or not. It is seeping into the ground that quickly?” He sounds surprised. “The soil here is different from Zandia.”
“That’s good for us.” I stretch out my calves as the water recedes, almost as quickly as it came. “Khrys, please, can we go back and check for the flowers?”
The supplication in my voice is painful to hear, but without them, I don’t know how I’ll make it. He looks into my eyes for a long second, clearly trying to make some kind of decision. All I can do is hope he’ll choose the path that leads to less pain for me.
He sighs. “All right. But any signs of trouble, and we turn back instantly. Clear?”
I nod immediately. “Yes, Master.”
Where did that come from?
He seems as surprised as I, but a slow smile spreads across his face. “I like the sound of that on your pretty lips,” he murmurs, leaning in closer.
For a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me—and I lean in, dying for the contact, but the sound of a cracking branch has us both whirling.
“Just a falling rock.” Khrys points as some boulders loosened by the storm rattle down the hillside into a swatch of broken branches.
His shoulders straighten, and he looks focused. “Let’s go.”
To my utter joy, we find the tan bags untouched, right where we dropped them. There are no antlex around now, and the unpicked flowers are shredded to a pulp. The once-full field is now a vast marshy wasteland of broken stems and crushed petals, and all of the pollen has been washed away.
“Thank stars these are here.” I grab the two sacks I filled as Khrys takes his own. The waterproofing seems to have held, and that makes me almost gleeful with relief.
There’s a strange squeak beneath my boot. I scream and jump. “What is it?”
I step backward, ready to attack, heart racing, but it’s only a small creature. About the length of my forearm, it’s got blueish fur and large golden eyes. It stares up at me from the muck and moves its littles paws upward as if begging for food. Squeak.
“Khrys? What is this?” I’m entranced and on guard at the same time. “It’s so… cute.”
He bends down. “I’ll be sword-sliced. It’s a whimmit.” he laughs. “Master Seke’s information didn’t say those lived here.”
“Is it toxic?” I ask although from his demeanor, I can guess that it’s not.
“Not to Zandians or humans. They’re a kind of rodent. Not the smartest. Look.” He reaches down and touches the thing on its back. “They have no sense of danger.”
It immediately arches upward into his hand and makes a loud rumbling noise. “Stupid. I could kill it or eat it at once.”
He taps it a little harder. It growls at him as if irritated and stops rumbling.
“But you barely eat.” I reach down, too. It sniffs my hand then pushes its nose into my fingers. It rumbles again, louder, but it seems to be a happy sound. “It’s adorable.” The creature pushes closer and puts its paws on my leg.
Khrys sounds disgusted. “They’re a nuisance when we’re on missions. I can’t stand them. Always getting in the way.” He bends down to the whippet. “Shoo! Get out of here.” He gives it a little push.
The creature ignores him. It continues to paw my leg.
“You don’t have them on your planet?”
He shakes his head. “Thank veck, no.”
A strange thought occurs to me. “Can we keep it?” I feel a sudden surge of affection for this little beast, who—out of nowhere, and for no special reason—is being, in its own way, kind.
“No.” His voice is short and holds no room for debate. “Absolutely not. The craft isn’t fitted for wildlife. And we don’t need this—thing—back on Zandia.”
I shriek out a giggle as it licks my hand with a bright purple tongue. “It likes me.”
“It would like a bundle of rocks.” Khrys shakes his head. “Come, Kailani. We need to focus.” He points. “The craft is back that way. Let’s go.”
“Okay, I’m—”
/> A sick sense of deja vu fills me as the zing of an arrow fills my ears.
“Veck, the locals are back!” Khrys curses. “They waited for us to find the bags. It’s an ambush.”
“They’re approaching from the north.” I assess the area, senses on high alert. My muscles tense in preparation for a fight. I listen and learn the sounds of their feet. My vision clears, and I focus. “At their pace, we have thirty seconds. They’ve not surrounded us yet. We can run for it before they get close enough to aim properly.”
“You can’t make it to the craft fast enough.” His voice is tense. “It’s past your endurance distance. I’ll hold them off while you get a head start, then I’ll catch up.”
“We should fight together.” The idea of running on my own fills me with panic.
“No.” He snaps it. “On my command, you take your sacks and run to the craft.”
He slides a device from his tunic and presses it into my hand without looking, then hands me my laser gun from earlier. “Keep these safe.”
He uses his long-range laser gun to knock out the first approaching local, but dozens more appear over the tree line. “The craft is programmed to recognize my biomarkers and open for me. This is an override you can use to get aboard. I preprogrammed it with your fingerprint earlier, just in case. Get yourself there and wait for me.”
“But…”
“Go. Now.”
He shouts so fiercely that I take off racing, the bags bouncing on my leg, heavy and awkward.
He's right—I can’t run as fast or long as he, especially not with a load. This is the only way we can both make it. But I’m terrified.
I hear him roar a battle cry, but I don’t look back. Soon I’m far enough away that the screams of the natives are muted, and after a while, I hear nothing but odd squeaks from my bag.
And then I’m at the craft.
Kailani
I know I’m in the right place even though I see nothing because the device in my jacket pocket beeps urgently. When I pull it out and touch the smooth indent with my index finger, it glows green. Symbols I don’t understand appear, but I raise the device and point it in front of me.
Like magic, the craft shimmers, just at the edges, showing me the outlines of the curved hull and sleek base. The staircase hovers as if half formed.
I lurch forward and climb, and the door slides open with a pneumatic hiss. I toss myself inside, and when the door closes behind me, I sob with relief.
I’m alive, I’m safe, and I have the flowers. The vecking flowers. I use the curse Khrys says, liking the way it sounds. It’s a powerful word.
“Veck,” I mutter. I’m shaking. I drop into a seat on the craft, allowing myself to catch my breath then get up.
I suck down a nutrition tube and wrap myself in the silver blanket to warm up, standing at the port hole to peer out. Where is Khrys? He’s nowhere in sight. To my horror, the sky darkens.
“Where is he?” I mutter.
Squeak.
“What the stars?” I jump back. A lump unfurls itself from the top of the first flower sack. Sodden and dismal, but seemingly unharmed, it’s the whimmet from the field.
Squeak. It looks at me with its huge eyes.
“How did you get here?” I blink at the animal. “Were you hiding in my sack?”
Squee. It comes closer and winds around my legs, in and out. It has a pathetic-looking tail of snarled and matted fur, full of burrs and grass. It shakes itself and drops of muddy water fly around my boots.
“You don’t belong here.” But I can’t resist bending down and touching the top of its head. It’s ridiculously soft. “You’re supposedly a vermin.” But its nonjudgmental affection warms my heart, and I stroke it again.
It juts its chin into my thumb, as if enjoying the feeling of my fingers. Squee.
“I don’t have time for this!” I stand and pace to the port again. No Khrys.
On a whim, I sit down at his flight console and point the small hand device at the screen.
A musical chime rings out and the screen lights up with symbols and numbers.
I remember seeing him tap and glide his fingers along it and in front of the air earlier. There’s a symbol of an ear, so I touch it, and the screen cycles through languages. A few I don’t know, and then—Ocretion, the most common language in the galaxy.
“Start engines, Captain?” queries the screen. My pulse quickens.
I could leave. Right now. I have my flowers. I have a ship. I could be free—a free human in a galaxy in which we’re all enslaved. I don’t know where I’d go, but I could figure it out. I could try to find Jesel.
I hesitate. I look outside, where a few drops of rain are starting to flick the ports.
I have no business doing anything except waiting for Khrys. But the idea of escaping grows stronger. My heart races.
“Yes. Start engines. Prepare for takeoff.”
“Affirmative.”
Lights flash and beeps ring out as the ship begins—apparently—to ready itself for imminent departure. Engines deep within the structure hum to life and a barely discernible thrum, like a heartbeat, comes up through my boots and into my body.
“Starter engines ignited.”
It feels good. It feels like safety—and freedom. Things I’ve never known. Things I’ve wanted as long as I’ve been alive.
“Booster engines ready. Thrusters ready. Hyperdrive ready. Preparing life systems.”
There’s just one thing flashing red, waiting to enable.
I could leave—without Khrys. I could take off with this craft—this priceless piece of tech that can practically fly itself—and find a free planet. It’s not impossible.
“I’m smart,” I whisper.
The whimmet leaps to my lap and presses itself to my chest. Squeak.
“I could learn,” I say, resting one hand on the console. “I could figure it out. And if I crash—oh well. At least I gave it my best shot. At least I wouldn’t be a slave any longer.”
I think about my friends—Ina and Anya, Agniezka and Ruta. “Are they alive?” I ask.
There’s no being who can answer me.
“Are they at an auction too, being sold for stein? Maybe they’re still on Reneron.” That’s the way station where Kraa like to store their auctionable items before heading over to the sales planet. “Instead of going to Zandia, I could find them. Save them.”
I find that I seem to be speaking to the whimmet, who looks up at me with her golden eyes (I think it’s a she) like she’s listening.
Rrrrr, she agrees, whipping her furry blue tail along my arm.
I wince. “Stop that. You’re full of mud,” I chastise her, but my voice is gentle.
“I miss them,” I whisper to the whimmet, my eyes blurring with tears. She settles into my lap and pushes her paws rhythmically into my leg.
“Life systems enabled. Craft is ready for liftoff.” The ship’s console flashes with green. “Awaiting command.”
I chew my lower lip. The rain beats down on the ship even harder. Soon it will probably be hail.
The fact that Khrys hasn’t returned probably means he’s dead. That thought brings a crippling stab of pain, right through the center of my chest, but I push it aside. I need to think this through. The longer I wait, the longer I increase the chance of the locals finding and attacking the ship.
But what if Khrys is still out there—alive? What if he needs my help? My heart twists in my chest and anguish makes me stand.
The whimmit leaps to the ground gracefully. Rrrrr, she says.
“What if he needs me?”
I look to the console. All I need to do is push one button, and I’ll be free, on my own.
But then I see Krhys’ face in my mind. Feel his touch. Remember the closeness we felt in the cave.
The console repeats. “Awaiting command.”
Sweet Mother Earth. What should I do?
Chapter 9
Khrys
The shooting goes on f
ar longer than I expect.
Arrows fly towards me in carefully-planned volleys—these locals are smart. Part of me admires their tenacity and ability to craft such weapons with rudimentary tech. The other part of me just wants to survive.
“Get back, veck you,” I mutter. My weapon is set to high stun; I don’t want to kill. But if they don’t back off soon, I’ll be forced to do what’s necessary. “You idiots. Don’t make me kill you.”
At first, I just held them off long enough to give Kailani a head start. I planned to run as soon as I was sure she’d made it to the ship. But when I ran, fresh groups appeared on all sides and cornered me against an outcropping of rocks. They approach through the sodden flower field, slowly but surely. The dozen or so of them in the lead have now lifted up what look to be rough animal hide shields that are protecting the archers behind them.
But their heads are still visible. To my relief, my good eye and fast weapon drop over half of the visible archers, and the arrows slow. The group raises shields and gathers in a circle.
Stars, their maneuvers are surprisingly modern. I adjust my laser gun to the burn feature and launch a series of fast laser strikes at the shields. When the hides burst into flames, I whisper, “Yes!”
Screams of horror and dismay rise up from the group, who finally turn and race away from me, apparently having decided it’s not worth it—right now.
“Finally,” I mutter. I look once more to ensure they’re really going, and then run for my craft. I’m concerned about Kailani.
Vecking stars, if she encountered more locals on the way back, I would not be able to live with myself. What if she had another panic attack?
Excrement. I run as fast as I can, but in the distance, I see the ship unmask, the engines running at full launch power.
Veck.
She’s vecking leaving me. The ship is departing.
Kailani has betrayed me—she’s about to flee with my craft, leaving me here alone on this planet.
“That cursed human,” I sputter, as the sky booms and rain pours out like a waterfall. I’m blinded by the sheet of water, but suddenly an apparition wavers through the streams of liquid. I raise my laser gun at a misshapen figure tromping toward me, but something makes me hold my fire. The figure swims into focus as it approaches.
