Dragon's Secret: A SciFi Alien Romance (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book 14)

by Miranda Martin

  It feels like a message. A really strange message.

  As I play it over again, I have a feeling that there's more to that dream than meets the eye.

  Damned if I know what it is.

  2

  ARCHION

  T he buffeting wind forces me to squint as I watch the point where the suns meet with the sand.

  I adjust the scroll on my back, protected in a leather carrying case for the journey. I must return it to the Order. It is the goal that drives me across the desert. After taking a deep breath, I slide down the dune and continue on my journey.

  There's still much of the desert to cross, so I push my body as quickly as I can go, continually scanning my surroundings, watching for any threats. Tajss is a dangerous place. Even more so now.

  At the moment that thought arises, a stray sound has me slowing. I crouch to lower my center of gravity and place each step with the silent accuracy of a hunter. I climb the dune in front of me to gain a better vantage point. When I crest the mound, I see the source of the odd clicking sound immediately.

  My jaw clenches. Invaders. A large camp of them. The new danger to be found here as of late.

  Elongated heads covered with textured blue skin and eyes of full black under heavy brow ridges, they look nothing like anything else here on Tajss. Their lipless mouths are bordered by a tusk on either side, so curved in front that they almost touch. Each of them has six arms in total, three on each side, with the middle being the largest and most functional. Those large central arms end in three fingered hands with one joint per digit, tipped with sharp black claws at the ends. The other four are thinner and clearly weaker, ending in pincers rather than hands. As always, everything but the head, hands, and feet are covered by a brown armor reminiscent of an insect carapace.

  All of them carry the odd emblem of a stylized yellow pincer on a brown background, sewn onto the left side of their chests.

  As I watch, one of them opens its mouth, displaying sharp teeth as it lets out a staccato sound. It is not nearly as loud as the roar that I know they can release during battle.

  I scan them for a moment, considering my options. It is the middle of the day, which makes it more difficult to move past them without detection. It also would not hurt for me to gather more intelligence on the strange aliens. Considering both of those points, staying and watching seems the most logical thing to do.

  I move carefully, burying my body in the sun-warmed sand so that I will be more difficult to see. Then I lie there and watch, only shifting my eyes as the busy camp moves in front of me. I take note of their communication with each other, the hierarchy that appears to exist. Once the suns set, I will sneak past them and continue on my way. But even though I make no progress on my journey, it behooves me to stay and learn. I watch for some time, the suns above slowly lowering in the sky as I do. It will not be much longer before I can extricate myself from the sand and move past this encampment. Unfortunately, the exit is not as simple as the plan.

  I freeze when I hear the sound of footsteps drawing closer. They are not urgent or particularly purposeful, so I stay motionless in the sand hoping the invader will simply pass me. It is likely one of them on patrol, so all I can do is hope that its attention is focused outwards, away from the camp, rather than inwards. I hold my breath, not daring to move, even enough to draw in air.

  But I cannot control where the invader steps. I feel it set its foot down on me, catching it on my leg. It stumbles above me with an alarmed cry. I do not wait to see what it will make of the stumble. This close up, now that it knows something is here, there is no chance that it will overlook me.

  I jump to my feet in a burst of sand, spinning my lochaber around to hit the unsuspecting invader in the side.

  He cries out, but by that point, I already hear the cries and footsteps of others approaching. They heard his first alarmed yell.

  When the first stumbles to the side and falls to the sand, I turn to see the others. I know there are too many before I even see them, and that I am much too outnumbered to stay and fight.

  Assessing that quickly, I rush towards the few invaders directly in front of me. If I wait too long, they will amass, and then I might not be able to fight through them. The three directly in front of me attack all at once, but I only sustain a few blows from their main arms before I cut one down and use my wings to leap over the group.

  I do not bother attempting to incapacitate any of them. More will just take their places. Better to make my escape now.

  As soon as I am over them, I run, extending my wings to lessen my weight and skim over the sand.

  When I look back, the group is running after me. But they are not built for the terrain here. It is more difficult for them to cross the sand, sinking in with each step as they do.

  However, they are still fast enough that I have to keep moving to avoid capture. I cannot allow them to take possession of the scroll. They can never get their hands on it. That knowledge beating at me, I push myself even harder.

  I know I can outpace them, but I do not know for how long they will give chase. I must keep moving. I must avoid capture.

  When I look back after a short period, I cannot see them anymore, but I dare not stop.

  Despite my desire to sleep.

  Full sleep is a luxury that beats at me, that I crave almost like a starving man. I have not been able to lie down and settle into a deep sleep for days. Instead, I have been subsisting on the half-sleeping meditative state that allows my body to rest while I can continue to run. It is not nearly as effective as actual asleep, perhaps half as rejuvenating. But the state is very helpful when traveling long distances.

  The Order developed it specifically for cases when one must keep moving past exhaustion.

  It is not a perfect solution as then I cannot fight or engage in any other activity that requires the full use of my mind. But for an instance such as this when I have pursuers and I cannot sleep, it is the best solution. So I sink back into that now-familiar meditative state, and continue to move forward, the world dimming around me as part of my mind shuts down to rest. However, the section of my brain meant to be aware of potential threats continues to scan the area around me. A necessary precaution.

  When the suns start to dip even more and the light starts to dim, my senses are super heightened and aware of everything around me. I know how to deal with of the worst beasts in the area, but the invaders are, as of yet, a more unpredictable variable. That does not mean I am safe from the beasts, just that they are a surmountable threat.

  I continue running, the thinking portion of my brain resting. I manage to cover a solid portion of the sand in good time.

  Movement on my periphery has my brain re-activating, coming out of that meditative state.

  I turn towards the large shadowy mass that catches my attention. The starlight highlights its silhouette, the glittery eyes. The sheer size of it, combined with the distinctive trunk and tusks, tell me exactly what it is as it barrels towards me.

  Cherepakh.

  As it nears, I can see the segmented shell covering its back, head, and the otherwise-vulnerable underbelly. The large ears are flapping as it runs, allowing it to hear even the tiniest sounds at long distances.

  It has likely been tracking me for some time.

  Gripping my lochaber, I come to a stop and turn towards it. I will not be able to outrun it.

  It lets out a trumpeting sound with its trunk, the movement showing off the sharp teeth at the end of it, the starlight also gleaming off of the teeth lining the tusks themselves.

  Its sheer size makes it dangerous enough, even without the added weaponry of its tusks and trunk, let alone the armor of its shell.

  But it has its own vulnerabilities. The four eyes, one set above the other, and its limbs, covered in a thick hide, but softer than the shell. The trunk and mouth are also good targets.

  I feel the ground trembling underneath me as it rushes towards me.

  My hearts are pound
ing as I assess the best way to attack.

  When it lowers its trunk, opening up the field for its eyes, I decide to aim for them, using the target it has decided to give me.

  I wait until the right moment, despite my body's desire to move, to get out of the way of the massive creature. When I judge the time is right, I crouch and leap into the air, using my wings to gain lift and my tail to steady myself.

  I do not swing the lochaber back as far as I would for a stabbing blow. Accuracy is what I need for this maneuver, not strength. At the apex of my leap, I slash across the top pair of eyes, almost delicately. When I turn the lochaber and slash back the other way to get the bottom pair of eyes, I succeed in fully blinding the creature.

  But I don’t succeed in escaping completely unscathed. The trunk slashes at me, the sharp teeth scrape against my side as I continue the leap over the creature.

  It is screaming from pain and confusion, its sight completely taken away.

  But I do not make the mistake of believing it safe now. Wounded creatures are often the most dangerous, moving unpredictably. And it still has its hearing.

  Ignoring the sting of the shallow cuts in my side, I deliberately move quickly. I do not want it to zero in on my position through sound. I know it will be more difficult for it do so if I move fast.

  I watch its ears swivel as I move to the other side, slashing at the tendons at the back of its hind legs. I manage to incapacitate one leg, but not the other before it whips around, its trunk flying at me again. I slide under its body and over to the other side before it can make contact.

  When I turn towards it again, the hind leg that I targeted successfully is dragging behind it rather than helping it move. With the cherepakh hobbled now, I can move back around to its head more easily. Distracted by pain, it does not realize that I have changed position.

  When it opens its mouth to scream this time, I am ready with the lochaber pulled back, the blade aimed. I shove the sharp tip straight into the cavern of its mouth, angling it up to cut straight through to its brain. It takes some force for me to hear the crack of the skull under my blade. I grunt as I try to shove it in as far as I can with the large creature still struggling.

  One moment it is attempting to pull away, and the next, it goes limp.

  Dead.

  I take a moment to catch my breath while I stand there, relaxing my arms. Then, bracing my feet against its leg, I pull back using my whole body, my weapon sliding free by increments. It takes almost as much effort as the initial puncture.

  By the time the blade is out, the cherepakh is starting to fall over on its side. The ground shakes as it hits with its full weight. I look down at the carcass. If I was closer to the Order, I would attempt to gather as much meat as possible. But it is just me, and all I need is enough meat to last me a few days.

  Too much will only weigh me down and delay my journey even more. I pull out my large hunting knife and sharpening stone. I keep my knives and weapons sharp, but I give the knife a few strokes while I think about the best place to harvest meat from this shelled animal.

  In the interest of time and effort, I cut into the meat along its hind leg, a portion not protected by the shell. Also cognizant of my possible pursuers, I make sure to be efficient. The creature is still as warm as it was in life by the time I pack away the meat in my bag and am on my way once more.

  But this time, I find my instincts pulling me towards another direction altogether, one I was not planning on going in.

  I frown at that inexplicable draw even as I continue to move towards it, trusting my instincts. I look inward, attempting to see why I am being told to travel in this direction now. The answer comes to me in a feeling more than in words.

  A softness, a particular kind of energy. I frown harder as I continue to skim over the sands. Females?

  Yes, that fits with this feeling. Why do I have this intuitive sense that there is the presence of females in this direction?

  I do not know. It seems preposterous. I have not seen a female in... I do not even know how long now.

  The Zmaj females have been dead and gone for years upon years. This feeling should not exist. It seems impossible.

  But I am not one to ignore my intuition, especially not one so singular, so very unusual.

  I have a clear sense of female energy. I am sure of it. My inner self never lies.

  I feel a burst of excitement flow through me as I increase my pace.

  A new and different target now comes first.

  3

  NORA

  T he dream lingers in my mind the next day when I join one of the teams gathering meteorite glass, filling in for Maeve. I'm still no closer to figuring out what it means. All I know is that it must be important, and that the vision and the dream must be linked. It's too much of a coincidence otherwise.

  I bend over, brushing off the sand from another chunk of meteorite glass and placing it into one of the bins we've brought out for the project.

  The meteorite showers are still frightening in that they can destroy things and also seriously hurt anyone caught out in them, but the special pieces of glass they create when the flaming rocks hit the sand are really useful. Now that we know we can use them to power technology, I for one am glad when I realize a meteorite shower is coming. It has definitely saved our hides a couple of times when the invaders attacked, forcing the battle to cease as everyone scrambled for cover.

  I move over to another section when I see the sunlight glinting off more of the glass. As I pick it up, I glance around at the others. I'm out here with a group of both Zmaj and women, but Penelope, Olivia, and Fallon are spread out farther away. Too close for me to speak with casually.

  The only one next to me is Padraig. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he continues gathering meteorite glass efficiently. The task doesn't take a whole lot of thought, and I find myself a little bored in the silence.

  Maybe some small talk is in order. Clearing my throat, I jump right in.

  "So...it's pretty hot, huh?" I mentally smack myself. Could I have started with anything more inane than the weather? Yeah, it's hot. It's hot every freaking day here. We're on a desert planet with two suns!

  Padraig looks over at me briefly before turning away again to gather another piece of meteorite glass.

  "Yes."

  Okay. I need a question that needs more than a one-word answer.

  "What do you think we'll do if the meteorite showers stop?"

  It's a question that comes up now and then because we're starting to become so reliant on the glass for technology, including the shields that we use. Without the shielding around the Tribe's cave system for example, I don't think we would have survived the attacks so far.

  "No use worrying." This time, he turns away and deliberately walks a few more paces to create some distance. Making conversation more difficult.

  My shoulders drop as I take the clear message. As if his curt responses weren't hint enough. Still, I try not to take it personally, knowing it's because he's focused on his task. It isn't like he's a chatterbox around anybody else at the moment either. I sigh, moving on with my own collection.

  Even though I can rationalize away the interaction logically, it still makes me feel even more like the odd man out. Displaced and unwanted. I try to shake the feeling, but it's one I've been having frequently enough that it's difficult to let go of. The anxiety that comes with moving farther away from the Tribe's base isn't helping either, I'm sure. Even as I think that, I hear Fallon pipe up.

  "All right, I think we've basically mined everything in this section—let's move a little further out!"

  I gather one of the lighter bins and trudge forward through the sand, my feet sinking in with every step. The desert really is the worst.

  The Zmaj are so well adapted for it, their wings lessening their weight enough that they can actually glide across the sand rather than sinking in like the rest of us do. This is despite the fact that they weigh so much more than any of
us.

  I set the bin down and immediately look back towards the wall that was built to help protect the cave system. I can usually see it even from some distance away. The meteorite glass set in it sparkles in the sunlight to tell me where home is.

  But we've traveled too far now.

  I can't see it.

  My stomach drops, even though it makes sense. We've been moving out steadily for some time now. But the lack of visual still hits me kind of hard. I have to steel myself to keep my fear at bay.

  I take a deep breath, trying to push it away, to focus only on collecting the glass in front of me. No matter how much I tell myself that everything is fine, that I'm in a group, that we aren't that far from the Tribe in actuality, the sinking feeling in my gut remains. I just can't shake it, even as I force myself to continue with the mindless work. I feel on edge, my skin prickling with awareness, my heart beating too fast for the low level of activity that I'm doing.

  This doesn't feel like the normal level of anxiety I get this far out from home base. It's almost like...I'm being sent it? Though that's not quite right either.

  I shake my head, trying to tease out what could be happening. The feeling is growing even stronger now. And it feels like...like it's telling me...

  Danger.

  That there's danger nearby.

  That danger is coming.

  I don't know why I'm having this feeling, or even if I should put any stock into it. Am I having an anxiety attack? Is this what they feel like? Maybe this is nothing, just my own emotions run wild.

  I take a few deep breath and try to get my mind off of it. Try to distract myself by taking in our new position, watching everyone else, even counting how many pieces of glass I've gathered. But it doesn't go away.

  Not for hours.

  Just grows inside me, almost a separate entity. I'm so on the knife's edge that I have to grit my teeth just to stay there and continue to act like nothing is wrong.

  "Duck!" My head jerks up at Zoe's little-girl voice calling out to me, the tone urgent. She shouldn't be here, not this far out from safety! I glance around quickly, trying to spot her, but she's nowhere to be found. More importantly, nobody else seems to be alarmed. They’re continuing to search the sand around us for meteorite glass. I go still as I watch them and realize the voice wasn't physical. I felt it more than I heard it with my ears.