Even as I watched, the sandy banks bubbled. At first, small clumps of sand spilled into the water, creating ripples. Then grains fell in a rain of sand spanning several lengths of both shores. The sand seemed to shimmer while the banks quaked from within, and then the battalion of crabs burst out legs and pincers first. With thousands of night-crabs pouring out of the shore’s edge, the ground’s integrity was compromised. I scrabbled with my fishing pole, dropping it in my haste, and then reached for my underwater pouch in desperation. I felt around for the mesh bag, snagging it with my claws. Too late, I discovered it crawling with the velvety night-crabs.
I cursed and flung them off, shaking it violently while they clamped more tightly with their large pincers. They had devoured my paltry stringer of fish, and then began exploding as hundreds of thousands of tiny glisten-fish broke through. The flocked black molt of the crabs split from their middles, the wriggling little fish devouring flesh and nosing to find water. They boiled out of the crabs en masse, a pulsing entity comprised of countless hatched eggs.
“Kathe!” I jumped back, my armor dripping where I’d reached into the stream. The clear water became cloudy with glisten-fish offspring.
Panting, I looked up at the sky. By the Holy Goddesses. Something was not right. First the early rains, and now the glisten-fish migration. I smacked a nearby black trunk. Correction. First—the Mahavelt race had arrived.
My brows furrowed as I glared at Joaxma’s ship. Even now, she stepped out of her pod, surveying the plot of land she doubtlessl called her own.
In horror, I watched as she made her way toward the stream—and me.
I dared not move, even with my camouflage at full.
Unfortunately, I stood in an uncomfortable position, with one leg perched on the edge of the stream bank and the other bent. If I so much as sneezed, she would detect my presence. A bead of sweat formed at the back of my neck and traced a crooked path down.
My senses heightened as she approached. The suns glinted off the odd glass of her helmet. I smelled the churning waters of the stream, where pungent aromas rose from the dying crabs and birthing fish. The bead of sweat curved at the base of my neck and chose a circuitous route just to the right of my shoulder blade. Every track it made screamed for me to itch it. Impossible, unless I removed my armor.
Joaxma reached the stream, and I saw her grip tighten on the handle of the jug. Just as she was about to lower it into the stream, she squeaked and jumped back.
I watched, curious how she would react.
She crouched to examine the stream. She made assorted noises as I watched her gaze dart from the water boiling with fish to the sandy banks avalanching with black crabs.
I watched her reach her glove toward the water. I gritted my teeth against warning her. Let her learn as all Iktheka learn: by making mistakes.
At the last jotik, she pulled her hand back and looked all around. Her gaze skated past me.
I breathed a silent exhalation.
Once again, she reached for the water. This time, she plunged her hand in and pulled it right back out. Velvety black crabs clung to her gloves with their pincers. She held them close to her visor. Her eyes grew wide in wonder.
I smirked. Soon the crab bodies disintegrated as the glisten-fish nosed and gnawed their way out of the bodies.
Joaxma screamed, and I chuckled in spite of myself.
Then, I felt the bank crumble beneath my boot. I stopped laughing.
More crabs burst from the bank, collapsing it, and I fell backward, flailing to catch myself before I crashed into the loud underbrush.
As I fell, I heard Joaxma yelling and crowing.
Had she seen me?
My fists caught hold of a hanging vine, and I grabbed tight. I looked between my arms to see Joaxma shaking her hand to dislodge the crabs, all the while shuddering and jittering. She ran to her pod.
Relief swept through me; I remained undetected.
I pulled myself to standing and admired the course of nature’s work. The stream would be unfishable and undrinkable for days now. Perhaps this would inspire the little builder to leave the glade for good.
Breaking trail, I left my fishing spot and headed north. If I could find the cave opening, I could, perhaps, find the fat glisten-fish before they died in the cave pool. They wouldn’t taste quite the same but were still good in a soup.
It wasn’t until I reached the head of the stream that I realized I had left my pole. No matter. I doubted she would approach the stream for a long while. I could retrieve it later.
I laughed, remembering her expression. It was worth almost falling on my ass and losing my catch just to see that face.
8
My mind couldn’t catch up to what I was seeing. The previously sandy banks had turned into black lumpy rocks that bobbed in the water like apples. They were not apples. They were crabs!
I licked dry lips and tried to face my phobia. Crabs were an important part of any ecosystem, I told myself. They were normal. I knelt at the bank, frenetic movement drawing my gaze from one place to another. I would just quickly put my hand in the stream and …
I felt my face blanche when I pulled my hand out and saw my glove pulse with life.
“Heart rate reaching 145 BPM.”
“It’s fine,” I snapped and stared at their jointed legs and fuzzy, velvety exoskeletons. Without warning, several of the crabs split open, and slimy, silver, baby fish burst out of the crack in the hard shell. They spilled down my hand and arm, seeming to jump into the water below. What the …? My nano sensors picked up every sensation, and I couldn’t stand another second of it. Revulsion thick in my throat, I swallowed as I raced to the pod.
Inside, I scrubbed my skin until it reddened.
Of all the horrors I’d seen so far, exploding crabs was the worst. My suit lay crumpled on the floor far away from me. It sloughed liquids and goo. I would let the sprayers treat it twice before I put it back on, but I couldn’t excise the sensation of crawling things.
I used the sanitizing and disinfecting spray on my bare skin, too, which was discouraged in the EEP manual but not permanently damaging to humans.
“Do you require assistance?”
“No, thank you. Just showering,” I answered Vector. I paused. I hadn’t remembered to disable the Handler chip yet. I finished up and put my suit back on with reluctance. I knew it was free of marauders. I’d checked it numerous times and had Vector check it as well.
“Vector, open administrator screen.” I stood at the computer and punched in the code to disable the Handler chip. “There you go, Vector. How does it feel to be free?”
“I am called VELMA. What should I call you, K90-Miner 110?”
I exhaled and closed my eyes a moment. “I am Pattee Crow Flies. You may call me Pattee.”
“It’s nice to meet you. How can I be of assistance?”
“For starters, how is that air analysis coming along?” The status bar showed it as sixty-seven percent complete. Not good enough. Although, after my terrifying experience, I doubted I’d ever be comfortable without my full flight-suit and helmet secured over my person.
“I have isolated several distinct bacteria so far. They are innocuous to your system. I am sixty-seven percent done with my analysis.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks,” I said. “I sent a short video clip from my helmet cam to your hard drive. Could you convert it to a series of still shots?”
“Of course,” VELMA said. “Completed. They are displaying on the screen now.”
I paused each photo, studying the images. Yes, they were unpleasant, but I was disappointed in myself. My reaction had been panicked and immature. How was this any different than other natural wonders? The emergence of the silvery, arrow-shaped fish from the crabs led me to believe this was an adaptive evolutionary advantage. Nothing to get sick over.
I flipped through the photos, examining the tiny fish with barbed snouts and the palm-sized crabs. After the fact, they were far less concerning. I wou
ld return to the stream tomorrow. If there were more crabs, I would harvest several and see if they were suitable to eat. My mouth watered at the memory of a friend’s lobster boil, corn on the cob with melted butter running in rivulets through the channels between the kernels. I shook my head and sighed.
I still had traps to check.
In addition to my snares, I had constructed two simple traps and set them near the stream. If the crabs hadn’t climbed up on the banks to eat my prey, perhaps I’d caught something interesting, like poultry. I thought I saw ground birds yesterday in the brush. If they tasted like quail, that would be refreshing.
Scrubbed and fed, I exited the EEP once more, ready to face the weird life of my new home.
Along the bank nearest my cleared land, there was a narrow strip of thick foliage and brush. Trees and bushes and vines in great clumps crowded the bank. I had crawled through the mess to place my traps, baited with some of the offal from previous kills.
I found the cracked limbs and broken branches I had climbed through yesterday and made my way into the gloom. My first trap had caught something slimy and bulbous. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything with it but stare. It pulsed and blubbed. Was it amphibious? Insectoid? I shuddered and let it be. I crawled through, vines snagging at my suit, and branches slapping my helmet.
My second trap was empty. I turned away, but something made me return to inspect it. The mechanism had tripped. I creased my brow and stared around me at the woods. What was out there? It looked like something had released whatever I had trapped.
I sighed and sat back on my haunches. Traversing this planet was like cranking the handle on an ancient jack-in-the-box. Maybe traps were less effective than snares. I sighed again. I supposed I should release the weird bubbling brown blob or whatever it was.
I crawled back into the foliage. Using my multi-tool, I sawed through the green wood trap I’d constructed with twine and saplings. The blubbing thing retreated into its corner while I sawed a hole. I veered away from the opened cage, but it still cowered in its corner.
Shaking my head at my hectic morning, I realized I still had to check the snares at the tree line. I hiked past my perimeter and through the tall grasses, approaching the snares with care. I didn’t have the prickly sensation of being watched this time. I made my prayer offering. My first two snares were empty. I paced out the distance to my third snare. Empty. I heard thrashing, though.
Sure enough, the final snare had another of those toothy reptiles with six legs. I shuddered. So many teeth. Such vicious claws. I bowed my head. “Thank you, vicious animal. I honor your teeth and claws. As they aided your life, let them aid mine.” I clubbed it and hefted its bulk back to my site.
As I sat and skinned it, I groaned. All in all, it had been a crappy day. No fresh water, two useless traps and one snared animal.
I considered the selection of dried meat I had been able to collect. With ample protein to supplement my MREs, I could branch out and travel farther. The one thing holding me back was not knowing if the air was safe for me to breathe. Until I could know for sure, I was trapped in this glade. I frowned. Did my fellow survivors, if they had landed here, know to test the air?
Once I was finished treating the reptile skin, I harvested its claws. There was a small selection of weapons I could make with them, such as a type of mace, or maybe a tool, like a trowel. I just had to figure out how to affix the claws to the end of a club or handle.
I sat back and observed the tangerine sky. “VELMA, how many hours until the suns set?”
“Four hours.”
Another glance around my glade. It was protected as much as it could be. It was time to set the beacon.
9
The obvious choice for beacon placement was the rock outcropping at the west of my EEP. Logically, I knew the odds of the beacon summoning the Lucidity were slim. But there were other possible benefits. Should a fleet of the Interplanetary Unification of Races happen upon this star system, they would pick up the beacon. Also, it would notify any other survivors on the planet of my presence and location.
With the beacon secured in my zipped pouch, I climbed the outcropping. I hadn’t had much to do with the outcropping since my landing. This was new territory. Hand over hand, I climbed over the boulders and hoisted myself higher. My boots gripped the rock with ease.
Wary of creatures hiding in the gaps created by the tumble of rocks, I used caution when placing my gloved hand near the dark holes. About halfway up the defile, I looked down at my site. All was still. No trespassers. I turned my head back to my work when heavy pressure clamped over my left hand.
One of the same creatures I’d snared now had my gloved hand in its jaw. My voice froze in my throat. My pulse bulged in my neck. I watched as its teeth closed on my hand.
“Heartrate approaching abnormal levels. Do you require assistance?”
“Identify the animal biting my hand,” I said. “Are there others in the vicinity?”
“Using Augmented Reality Digitization, this reptile is identical to the previous two you snared. No others detected.”
I felt the pressure increase, and it seemed to be trying to choke my hand farther down its gullet. My grip on the ledge intensified. I couldn’t let go and fight it off with the machete. Instead, I pulled myself higher so I could meet my tormentor eye to eye.
Its black, beady eyes rolled in their sockets as it tongued my fist inside its mouth. I imagined it snarling but heard nothing. Its throat bag swelled and shrunk as if it were a bellows. It was a mighty little creature, about thirty pounds of scaled muscle attempting to swallow me whole, starting with my hand. It was the toothiest dog-sized reptile I’d ever seen. If it hadn’t been for the fabric of my suit, I would doubtless be surviving an amputation and trying to prevent hemorrhaging to death. As it was, the pressure grew stronger still, and it felt as if my tendons and tiny hand bones were shifting and scraping inside my skin.
Maybe I could fling it, but I had to prep myself first. I watched its body as the legs bent and stiffened, trying to leverage itself against its lair’s walls. I took a deep breath, counted to three and relaxed my hand. I sensed it loosen its hold a fraction. So, I grasped its tongue and flung as hard as I could with a swift and desperate yank.
Its weight was too great and its grip too tight, however, and I almost popped my shoulder out of joint. My balance wavered, and I grasped the rock even harder. The pressure on my wrist increased. With VELMA announcing my increased heart rate in my ear and my breaths rasping in my helmet, I let the creature dangle for a minute before I realized I should bash it against the rocks.
I heaved it again, this time banging it against the rocks. At first, its bite clamped harder, then it loosened, and after a fourth strike, it let go and tumbled down the outcropping. I watched it go, glad my hand wasn’t in its jaw, but guilty.
Why did I have to choose between killing or living every damn day?
Tears streamed down my face, and I wanted to rip off my glove and inspect the damage, but that would be hasty and dangerous. I grabbed a handhold and panted, then looked below me to see the thing limping away through my glade and heading toward the stand of trees.
I leaned my helmet against the rocky ledge in front of me and rested a beat, then resumed climbing while casting a glance into the little rocky den the reptile had called home. I wasted no more time on it and kept climbing.
Once I reached the apex of the outcropping, I lay across the rocks and breathed deeply. I wanted to stand at the top with hands on my hips and proclaim myself Queen of the Hill, but I needed to keep risk to a minimum. Standing upright would make myself an easy target for flying creatures or anything out in the wide wilderness. No need to create a silhouette against the sky for all to see.
I rolled to my stomach and observed the view. I could see my entire glade, the stream, the gulch, the woods, and more woods on the west of the outcropping. No fuel streaks striped the sky. No smoke from fires rose from the trees. It was wild, remote
, beautiful, and desolate.
I felt a lump in my throat. In the vastness of this world, I was just a speck. A dot on a rocky hill. My fists clenched on the sandy rock beneath my hands. Great Spirit … can you see me? Swallowing, I shook myself.
I rose to a kneel and unzipped my pack to retrieve the beacon. I wedged it in a groove created by two big boulders and turned it on. Satisfied, I squatted on my haunches. After the climb and nearly getting my hand chewed off, the beacon’s tiny blinking green light underwhelmed me, but it was not about its light source. It was about its signal. With that job completed and my breath caught, I found my way down, still cautious of the cracks in the rocks.
With my adrenalin spike wearing off, I retreated to my EEP.
I disrobed to my waist and stowed my glove in the acrylic analyzer box to check for punctures before I scrutinized my left hand. Bruising mottled my fingers and the back of my hand. I made a fist and winced. It was sore, but the skin was intact. There was no blood. Good. I sponged myself off, then fastened up my suit again and laid down on the exam table.
“VELMA, assess the damage to my left hand.”
“Scanning. Please wait.”
I blinked and exhaled. If I suffered any kind of debilitating injury, I was toast. I needed every faculty to be in top working condition to make it on this planet, especially if I wanted to thrive.
My eyes watered. Survival work wasn’t enough. I needed to exercise. I needed to keep limber and weight train. A hiccup jarred my chest. I needed to expand my diet to include a larger variety of nutrients. I needed to stay mentally fit and emotionally stable. Tears ran into my hairline as the weight of the task ahead crushed me. There was so much to do every damn day, and I was the only one there to do it. The work of keeping me alive belonged to me and me alone. That’s what my dad had been training me to do all those years when I missed social events and school. He was making sure I never needed to rely on anyone else. Not even him. I swallowed a sob.
Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series) Page 5
