Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series)

by Vicky L. Holt.

  Nothing for a minute.

  A blinding flash whited out the camera.

  I gasped.

  Blinking, I waited for the light to fade. At last I saw a shadow melt down the tree. The creatures had disappeared, presumably startled by the bright flash. The figure disappeared into the darkness.

  The monitor switched to the drone recording.

  The AI’s drone followed the shadow and the trailing dire wolves as they tailed the stampeding reptiles. The bird’s eye view didn’t show much on the cloudless night, so I skipped the video ahead until I saw action. Every so often I caught a glimpse of the wolves. The being seemed to follow them until they burrowed into dells; the reptiles retreated to a thick canopy of trees.

  The drone returned to charge, but there had been no sign of the toothy creatures or the mysterious hunter that drove them out of my glade with a flare.

  I relaxed, shoulders dropping but brows furrowing. Witnessing the exchange had me worrying about the wellbeing of someone I had never met. Was it okay? Did it get injured?

  I returned to the porthole, seeing the battleground with new eyes. Not only were there predators bigger and more dangerous than I had imagined, but there was a humanoid being somewhere out there, and while I scarcely believed it, it may not mean me harm. I paused. Unless it hadn’t seen my ship. After all, the hDEDs were activated.

  I suited up and exited, wary but curious to see the extent of the damage.

  The floodwaters had flowed down the gulch and receded back to the stream, the ground was spongy and muddy, and my boots squelched with every step, the grasses outside my perimeter were flattened, and the ground was torn up and gouged—it looked like hamburger.

  Most impressive was the pile of bones. It was picked clean and washed by the rains. In a few days of full double-sun, the bones would be pure white.

  I approached them and rested a gloved hand on one of the huge ribs.

  It felt cool to the touch.

  It was a shame to lose hours and hours of hard work, but these bones were a gift. I inspected the shafts and shards. I could make better flesh-scraping tools, needles, fishhooks, a hoe, and so much more. I clambered over the stack of ribs. The smaller vertebrae had been scattered over the entire field, as well as toe bones and any smaller joints. Whatever the wolves could drag away was missing from the skeleton.

  The femurs were massive. With a suspicious eye toward the woods that I now realized were crawling with far more dangerous predators than I had guessed, I bent to lift one end of a femur. I grunted at the heft, but it wasn’t as heavy as I was expecting. Ah right, the surface gravity was less than on Earth. The femur felt like it weighed about thirty-five pounds. It would make a great hammer. Or a club.

  I dropped it and walked around the skeleton, then paced out my perimeter. I had to restack the cairns at each corner, and it took me an hour to find a missing laser box. Heart in my throat, I breathed a sigh of relief to see it was intact.

  I repaired my perimeter, marveling that it hadn’t been more difficult. Half expecting beasts to charge out of the forest and attack, my teeth ground and shoulder muscles bunched. But maybe the rains had subdued the animals, or maybe the violent carnage of yesterday scared smaller creatures away. Then again, maybe the flood had drowned everything in a seventy-foot radius. Except for the millipede-like thing that I earnestly hoped would be full for several days.

  I couldn’t stop frowning as I worked outside, straightening out the telescopic mirror, replacing the laser boxes, and removing debris. I kept looking over my shoulder as I studied the glade. While I had reestablished the perimeter, bent telescoping mirror notwithstanding, I no longer felt as safe as I once had. When would the wolves return, or the giant lizards reminiscent of some dinosaur yet undiscovered on Earth? What about the armored being who exhibited such strength and bravery in the face of danger? Was I safe from it too?

  I thought of the stream and wondered if it was still cloudy with tiny fish and exploding crabs. I retrieved my water jug and hiked back with my machete at the ready.

  Nearer the water, I noticed a gray cloud that shifted and swayed, swelling and contracting without wind. A few more steps and I realized it was a cloud of miniscule insects. Safe inside my suit, I inspected the ones that landed on my visor. VELMA enhanced the images, and I was able to see a demon version of Earth’s mosquitos. Each insect boasted two proboscises, barbed but short. They had eight legs and a long prehensile tail.

  “VELMA, are there eyes on these insects?”

  “Under magnification, I cannot detect the presence of eyes.”

  “They must smell prey.” I grimaced. I waved my gloves, and they scattered around but hovered in the same area. Peering through the foliage where I had left the traps, I could see the occupants were long gone. At the smashed banks of the stream, the water was shallower. While the torrential rains had purged it of the odd spawning smorgasbord, it still boiled with mud and washout from its headwaters. I stepped into the stream and discovered a deep channel had been carved down the center. I looked downstream and saw a huge tree poised at the drop-off, precarious as it balanced between a huge trunk on one side and a boulder on the other. The flood had driven it downstream, dragging a gash in the streambed.

  I filled my jug—the filtration system would have to work overtime—and carried the water back to my EEP and studied the area.

  I couldn’t decide which beast presented the most danger. The fast and sleek dogs that whispered in and out of trees like shadows? The huge and powerful reptiles with teeth like razor blades and jaws big enough to end me in one bite? Just thinking about it was enough to accelerate my heartbeat and crank out the perspiration.

  I had been trapping and killing these little animals thinking the huge serpents and salamanders were the most dangerous beasts, as well as the annoying wasps. It was much worse than I had thought. My machete’s weight carried my survival.

  I needed better weapons. I couldn’t stay at my ship forever. I would need to venture farther into the forest and ford the stream, as well as rappel down the gulch at some point.

  I sucked on my lips and stared at the tree line. After the deluge, I doubted my snares were intact, let alone filled with prey.

  Taking a deep breath, I addressed VELMA. “Disable safety on repeating rotator weapon. If either the white wolves or giant reptiles appear, give me a warning, and shoot on my command.”

  “Standing by.”

  I nodded and hiked to the trees, stepping over my perimeter and into the thicker grasses. All was still. The tall grasses had flattened into lumpy tussocks. No sign of the salamanders or wasps helped me breathe a little more easily.

  The first snare was gone. The sapling had torn right out of the ground, alongside the brush that had been uprooted and was missing all along the tree line. I walked on to discover the other three snares gone as well. It wasn’t unexpected, just disappointing.

  With my heart racing, I crouched to construct one snare, using a slightly bigger sapling that had survived the flood and downpour. My knots were hasty, my fingers trembling, and I kept looking deep into the shadows.

  The planet’s beasts were silent. I would never know if one snuck up behind me. Every huge trunk could hide one of the reptiles. Every shady bower could obstruct a game trail followed by the wolves. I stood. It wasn’t the best snare I’d ever made, but every cracking branch or rustling leaf had me on edge.

  Forcing myself to walk without panic back to the EEP, I had a long, sturdy limb in tow I planned on whittling into a javelin. I would lash a chipped bone spearhead to its end. With the claws from the weird reptile, I could make something else, too. I caressed the giant lizard bones while passing the skeleton and entered the safety of my pod a few steps later.

  Cleaning out shavings would be a pain, but I was too on edge to work outside in the open.

  I spent a few hours shaving off the bark of the limb and honing its length to be straight and balanced. With a last look out the window, I exited my ship and
picked through the bones to find some choice fragments. Another deep breath. It was time to walk to the stream again. It was from that direction the monsters had charged.

  At the stream, I paid closer attention to the rocks. I needed a rounded tough stone I could use to chip away at bone, and I also needed something I could use as a crude axe. Clawing through the streambed, I stopped every few minutes to look around, then resumed. I found five decent candidates and pouched everything. I looked downstream at the huge tree dangling over the edge of the rapids. I hadn’t explored the bottom of the gulch yet, so I didn’t know what it looked like, but its landscape would change when that tree came down.

  Pleased with my finds, I walked back to my pod.

  Every day brought me one step closer to complete independence. Maybe someday I could live with a few comforts besides safety and a full belly. Until then, surviving was thriving. The storm had reformed the glade, brought me a gift of bones, and warned me that the woods were rife with danger. All in all, the Great Spirit had made Himself known to me on this distant planet, and it gave me peace. I was alone, yes, but I wasn’t forgotten by the Creator.

  16

  After driving the predators as far as I could, I returned to the glade, once again feeling an inexplicable pull to the little builder. Supposing the Goddesses implanted this feeling in my soul, I stood and counted the scattered skeletons, assessing their numbers. It seemed the pazathel-nax pack had gained ground in this battle. At the bones, I crouched to examine them.

  A fierce battle had ensued during the rains, then. Ikthe’s rains purged the bowels of the planet, cleansing its pocks while scouring its surface. The rhythm of the planet danced with the Sister Suns, the little moon, and Ikshe. Weather patterns were the darning needle of the Sister Goddesses, and they wove their creative magic over the entire planet, crafting its deadly beauty.

  I swallowed and frowned, peering back at the ship, the subtle shape visible because of my helmet’s settings. Aggressive pazathel-naxl would harry the little builder and catch her unawares as she worked in the glade. No matter what mystical armor she wore, an entire pack would shred her to bits.

  I ground my teeth and crept away into the forest. Having driven them out, it was only a matter of days before they would inevitably slink back to the glen. Would her perimeter hold? Did she have any weapons? She needed an ally on my world, but that would not do.

  Hivelt fought and hunted alone.

  Hivelt did not need an ally.

  Grumbling, I puzzled out the attraction that drew me ever to her. The message from my Goddesses was clear: protect her. But my own heart-home seemed to recognize something else by its unfamiliar twinges and creaks. I made a fist, frowning. What if Hivelt did not want what Hivelt’s heart-home wanted?

  I shrugged off the noose of guilt and loped deep into the forest. I needed to think on these things. Troubled that the rains had come early, spurring the migration of the large predators, I was even more agitated that my heart cage trembled in proximity to the little builder. What allegiance did I owe this interloper? None. My allegiance was to my Goddesses.

  I traveled through the night and found a family of rainworms had taken shelter in my cave. I lit a small flare and waved it around, chasing their whining slithery bodies out with the fire and heavy stamping. Their disgusting writhing bodies curled over themselves in tangled balls, and they propelled themselves away in erratic bursts of speed. Upon reaching the cliff’s edge, they tumbled over and disappeared into the brush. I shuddered. Now I must clean the slime out of my cave shelter.

  “Light!”

  The tiny device I’d stuck to the cave wall earlier lit at my command.

  My stomachs grumbled at me, voicing their dissatisfaction at my lax schedule. I stood in my cave, lit by the bead light, and surveyed the puddles and glops of slime. After removing my helmet, I ate my dried meat, trying to remember what Mother’s glisten-fish stew tasted like. My herbs were crushed and forgotten in my pouch and my stringer of fish long gone in my travels.

  Self-imposed exile had seemed a wise decision just a few short days ago. Now I must question my commitment to the idea.

  “Holy Goddesses, please guide your servant Hivelt,” I said out loud. “And please provide him with a fish.”

  The ground rumbled beneath my boots. I heard the skittering of gravel and turned to look out of my cave.

  A gentle rain of pebbles fell at the entrance.

  I cocked my head.

  I both felt and heard a deep rumble, reminiscent of the Lottery Drum, and crouched, drawing my double-blade. It was a useless instinct, as stones and boulders bounded in a loud tumble. At first, they jounced away down the cliff’s edge, but before I could grasp the meaning of the rockfall, they formed a pile, dust clouding the inside of the cave and pebbles littering the floor. I watched gravel spill toward my boots, then looked up at the entrance, its opening contracting as larger boulders and stones crashed and shattered, filling up the entrance to my cave before it occurred to me to escape. The noise deafened, and the daylight waned until the final shaft shut like an eye. I stared at the wall of rocks blocking my egress from the cave, my bead light creating the shadow of a looming idiot.

  Something wet dropped onto my head from the cave ceiling.

  I pocketed my meat and reached up to pull a slimy flat rainworm out of my hair. I stared at it a moment, then bit into it and chewed slowly. Hivelt had asked for guidance and a fish. The Goddesses sent a rockslide and a rainworm. I stared at my shadow. I supposed I had better sheathe my double-blades and start digging my way out.

  Instead, I sat against the wall with a huff. The Goddesses were in no hurry to help me, so I was in no hurry to help myself. I swallowed the remainder of the rainworm with a grimace. It tasted like kathe.

  17

  Something woke me from a deep sleep. I recalled a dream with Animikii, the thunderbird myth of my progenitors, and two tall women, but it faded as I blinked in the low light of my pod. It was still dark outside the porthole. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I stood and stretched, then padded over to the window to look out into the night.

  The bones gleamed white in the otherwise dark night, dormant reminders of the death that awaited me as soon as I made a fatal mistake. I bit my bottom lip. With thoughts like that, no wonder I couldn’t fall back to sleep.

  Dad always used to tell me stories at night, no matter where we were or how old I got. Tales of the Trickster pulling pranks on the animals, or the noble glide of Animiiki through the skies, or the diabolical Mishibizhiw in the lakes or rivers. Dad’s tales were full of wonder, but he would say to me, “The Great Spirit, Grandfather, is full of wonder. And look at all creation in its beauty.” He would gesture out the portholes to the countless stars and galaxies. “Is it not beautiful? And all part of the Sacred Circle. Give, and you will receive.”

  My breath fogged the view port, obscuring the scant stars. “VELMA, what time is it?”

  “Four a.m., Pattee. Do you want me to set an alarm?”

  “No. What are the air particulate results?”

  “Please direct your attention to the monitor.”

  My heart jumped as I eagerly scanned it.

  The bank of monitors lit up, showing charts and graphs. But one had the circling triangle and status bar. It read ninety-eight percent. Oh. Disappointment threaded my next question.

  “What’s the hold-up?” I asked VELMA.

  “Results will display shortly,” she answered.

  I sighed and pulled out my cleaning cloths. Showered and changed in a fresh pair of jump shorts and sports bra, I leaned against the narrow desk panel and stared at the status bar, willing it to finish.

  The triangle rotated, but nothing else happened. I scanned the graphs and charts, but it was chemistry gobbledygook.

  In order to feel useful, I pulled on my flight suit and snapped the helmet in place. “I’m going out. Let me know when it’s finished.”

  “Of course. I
have detected new deposits of scat in the area. Would you like to know about my assessment of bioavailable nutrients?”

  I paused at the hatch and looked back at the monitors. “I asked you to analyze the air sample. I can step in a pile of poop without any help. I need to know about the air on this planet!”

  “I am capable of doing hundreds of tasks at once.”

  I shook my head and stepped out. “Thousands of tasks, but I really only want you to do one,” I muttered to myself. With my fresh-hewn javelin at my side, I hiked to the stream. My heart raced, but I tried to control my breathing since my lungs wanted to pant, and sweat poured down the middle of my back. My gaze darted left to right and up to the sky. I felt like I had a huge target on my back everywhere I went. What a difference a dinosaur made. I didn’t know why I was so concerned with taking off my helmet. I should just forget about it.

  After heaving my jug of water back to the EEP, I checked the monitors.

  The bar said ninety-nine percent.

  I poured the water into my filtration receptacle, pleased I had plenty of stored, clean water, and then geared myself to head to the tree line. I packed away my supply of dried meat and produce and stowed it inside a cubby.

  I had little hope my single snare would yield anything. Realistically, I had enough rations for four weeks, but I was driven to stock up. I had no knowledge of the seasons on this planet. If there were conditions that would prevent me from hunting or trapping, I would be stuck in my EEP with what I had available. Not to mention if the dire wolves decided to move in nearby. I briefly wondered if it would be possible to domesticate them, but then recalled their vicious snouts burrowing into the abdomen of a reptile and shook off the thought.

  With spongy give to each step, I plodded through tufted grass, noting the ground was saturated with water and shifted beneath my feet. I skirted the bone pile and made my way to the tree line, sixty percent confident in my safety with VELMA locked and loaded behind me.