At the tree line, I found my snare disabled and empty. I placed a hand over my racing heart, counted backwards from a hundred and blew out cleansing breaths. My nerves were shot. Was that rustling in the brush a dire wolf poised to strike? The distant crack of a branch echoed. Was it a dinosaur headed this way? I was torn between needing to reset the snares and running back to the EEP. My gaze darted from bush to tree to thicket while my heart raced.
“Warning, sensors indicate microtremors as well as an earthquake 24.14 kilometers away of a 3.6 magnitude.” VELMA sounded calm for delivering potentially worrying news.
A wave of nausea started low in my belly and rolled upwards, however.
I faced my EEP.
Something was wrong.
I cocked my head and peered at my ship. It took a second to register what I was seeing: it was sinking. I took a step forward. Its nosecone sank lower. What was happening?
I started running toward my haven, my little home, yelling, “VELMA! The EEP!”
“I have registered the phenomenon. The sinkhole is caused by heavy rains combined with an extensive underground cave system. Stand well away from the edge of the sinkhole.”
I stopped running and watched with slumped shoulders and heaving breaths as my link to humanity and safety continued to sink into the hole as if in quicksand. My food stores were in there. My clean water filtration system. My toilet. Oh, Great Spirit. My oxygenated air. I willed it to stop sinking, even as it tilted to the left and lowered another foot. It was oddly slow. At last, it appeared to stop. It listed toward the gulch with the base resting about two feet below ground level.
“Is it safe to approach?” I asked VELMA.
“Yes.”
I walked as close as I dared. The sinkhole, while larger than any I’d seen in person, wasn’t as massive as some I had seen on news vids as a child. It seemed tailor-made to my EEP, suggesting its weight had created the hole. I peered over the edge where grassy roots dangled roughly two feet over the rich black dirt. It was almost a perfect circle.
I bit my lip.
The hand-crank stabilizer system was no help in this scenario because the wall of the sinkhole obscured one of the stabilizer legs. Dammit. All my stuff was in there. Down there. I couldn’t pull it out. I looked at my gloved hands and human arms and then up at the sky.
“What am I supposed to do, huh!”
You will find at times, Pattee, that insurmountable obstacles hedge up your way. Before you give up, try to think of an unusual solution. Some of the best inventions come from mistakes, accidents, and strange fixes. Don’t give up!
I took a deep breath. Okay. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. Unusual solutions.
“VELMA, can I jump into the sinkhole, or will it collapse more?”
“Assessing stability and pinging underground cave system. Stand by.”
I bit my lip and clenched my fists. Maybe I could deploy the baffle floats or use a single stabilizer leg. Something unusual.
I surveyed the glade, my weakened perimeter—it had disabled when the ship had sunk below where my laser line lay—and my sunken ship. Then I turned around, trying to assess the huge blow this was. Could I even live here without access to my EEP? Anxiety stirred my guts like a turbine. What if I couldn’t fix this? What if … My eyes skated across the looming wilderness, the angry hot suns, and the swarms of as-yet-unidentified insects. What if I had to live here without any protection, without access to any of my technology?
No, I did have limited access. I could reach it, maybe even enter it. It had just sunk, and I had to keep it from sinking more. It wasn’t that bad. Keep it together, Pattee.
I walked to the side where the ship leaned, but I couldn’t get close enough to push it back to center. Besides, dinking with it could cause it to sink further into the ground.
Maybe if I climbed down into the ship, I could grab my rope and pulley system. Or better yet, have VELMA retrieve the gear with the robotic arm and … no, its reach extended to the hatch only. Not out. But if I had my gear, I could somehow rig up a rope and use mechanical advantage to pull it up and out. I sat with a thump, keeping a weather eye out for the millipede or other nasties that might be around.
“After analyzing the cave system, it is inadvisable that you enter the sinkhole. The ground saturation suggests further sinking is possible.”
An image came to mind of the large bipedal figure scaring off the animals with a flare. How it had leaped into the tree effortlessly. It had battled one of the reptiles without any signs of fear and had killed a few of the white wolf creatures. It was quick. Strong. It had used a flare or beam of light to scare off many animals at once. It was smart.
Could the being possibly help me right my ship?
Would it be willing?
What hope did I have if I didn’t salvage my ship somehow?
None.
I swallowed through my dry throat.
The recording had shown the creature running off into the forest. If I could track it down, maybe I could convince it to come back with me and help me shift the EEP enough that I could use its stabilizer legs.
Rising out of my sitting position, I faced the wilderness to the north.
Instead of my glen feeling like a shield of protection, it felt like a pit of despair. I knew what possible threats were in that wood now and could imagine several horrific ways to die. Yet I had no choice.
Patting my pockets, I inventoried my supplies. Tools, pouch, and the single “weapon” supplied to IGMC EEPs: the machete. Also, the javelin. I couldn’t eat or drink, other than my limited water supply available in my suit, because I wasn’t removing my helmet until I had more information about the air which should arrive any minute now.
“VELMA, is the EEP still functioning?”
“EEP is at one hundred percent capability.”
I snorted.
“Other than the fact it’s swallowed up by a sinkhole …”
“That is unfortunate, but the particulate scan should be completed soon. Standby.”
“I’ve got to get the EEP out of the hole,” I said. “I think I’m going to find help.”
VELMA didn’t reply.
I headed out.
I would explore the forest while tracking that bipedal being, looking for further resources and any signs of a civilization or other pods. Every morning I had asked Vector for a ping report, and so far, it hadn’t found any pings. But the law of averages informed me there was a statistical probability that a handful of pods had traveled here. At least the ones that had left from the same sector on the Lucidity.
My walking stick-cum-javelin helped me navigate through the undergrowth in the forest, and my machete cleared large obstacles. I kept my path to the game trail between the red trees, avoiding the gray trunks because of the snakes.
The walking stick startled one of the mammoth salamander-snakes out of its hiding place. With my heart jumping into my throat, I stabbed it in the eye with the tip of my javelin and followed that with a powerful hack into its head. Its mate came at me from behind, but a stout stomp from my boot and another machete hack put it to the ground. It was a shame to waste so much meat, but I didn’t have a lot of time. I needed to find that hunter.
The farther into the jungle I went, the harder my heart pounded in my chest. The forest was a great unknown. My gaze on the trail in front of me, I gnawed at my lip. I was reluctant to startle more of this planet’s unpredictable wildlife into attacking me.
I walked the path until I spied a huge boot print, as clear as if it had been a shoe mold. Time stopped. My breathing stopped. My heart stopped.
I knelt to get a better look. “VELMA, estimate the height and weight of the being that left this print.” My voice sounded breathless and weak in my ears.
“Based on the depth of the print, I calculate the weight at 452 pounds and the height to be 7'5".”
I leaned back and looked around, sweat beading at my hairline and on my palms inside my gloves. This giant was wha
t had been watching me. I was certain.
I reversed my path, my pulse quickening with every step. I needed to know for sure. I leaped over the fallen amphibians, sparing a glance at the nasty little scavengers with the big teeth, and kept going. At the break in the trees that opened into my sunny glade, I stopped and scouted around.
It took a half hour, but I found what I was looking for. Two separate boot prints oriented toward my campsite. Shallow breaths punctuated my galloping heart. I did the math and gauged what the being could see of my site and of me as I worked. I stood on a stump and put myself into its place.
Everything I did had been observed. I couldn’t know how long it had stood there. But I knew it had watched me.
Chills erupted around my neck and ears, and a shiver rode rapids down my spine. Not only had the being frightened off the gigantic beasts, but it had been observing me, possibly for some time.
Reality hit me like a fuel barrel on the mothership. I was not alone.
The thought took my breath away. I turned back to the forest trail. I would track it as far as I could today. I could prepare for emergencies all I wanted, but I was a sitting duck on this stinking planet. Even a single ally or friend could make all the difference between life and death.
I didn’t waste time searching for prints between the edge of the forest and where I first spotted them. I ran to the place I’d marked them, then circled out from there.
“VELMA, estimate the distance between strides of the being.”
“I estimate the distance between strides to be three feet eight inches.”
I concentrated my search, sweeping aside rotting leaves, and when I couldn’t find the next step, I looked another three feet. There! I found the path it took, easing my efforts. Checking periodically, I found its trail through the dense jungle. It was only this simple because I didn’t think it knew I was tracking it. I noted its stride was greater than three feet apart when I first found the tracks. Over distance, the stride shortened. It had been running away from my camp at first.
My stomach coiled, and I tasted bile. Was it running to inform others of my location?
I was so alone. What if there were other pods? Dammit! I forgot to enable Overseer mode. With the software dam or Handler chip disabled, the AI could initiate conversation and internal activities without my permission. In Overseer mode, VELMA had full access to the nanosatellites and could perform countless equations and problem-solving decisions, as well as communicate through the nanosatellites. Basically, I had hamstrung myself with my damned pride. “VELMA, enable Overseer mode.”
“Unable to comply. Please return to the Emergency Egress Pod to manually enter the code.”
Dammit.
“Okay, record this and piggyback it to transmit on your ping to the nanosatellite array. When I get back to the pod, I can enter the code.”
“Recording in three, two, one.”
“This is a recorded message. My egress pod landed on a lush planet full of dangerous animals. I’m tracking something big. If you can hear this message, come find me. I’m at forty-one degrees, fifty-four minutes, 7.2 seconds north, and eighty-six degrees, thirty-five minutes, 44.9 seconds west. I’m human, and my name is Pattee Crow Flies.”
It was the best I could do until I got back.
Curiosity transformed into necessity. The sinkhole had forced me to follow the being to its destination. I hoped it wasn’t too far, or I would compromise my health when I had to remove my helmet to drink water, unless the scan reported it was safe for me to do so.
I traveled on, heedless of the creatures around me. Either I was moving too fast, or the scent of dried blood kept them at a distance. Perhaps they feared the being I tracked and avoided its scent as well. Nevertheless, my heart raced. The deeper I cut into the jungle, the darker it became.
I found dead black snakes. I paced their lengths out to seven and eight feet respectively. They were eight inches around. I examined their bodies to see how the being had killed them. Their jaws were slack and separated, with gaping bloody wounds at the hinges. Oh.
A method I wouldn’t be able to duplicate with my own hands. Most of their meat remained. I noticed the being carved select cuts from the serpent’s carcass. I examined the skins. They could be used as a waterproof covering, so I debated recovering the skins and resuming my search tomorrow, but the threat of losing the trail urged me onward. Not to mention, most of my skinning materials were in the ship.
Darkness descended on the forest, but adrenaline and worry prevented sleep, so I used my helmet light to trace the prints and other trail sign. When a giant flying insect started dive-bombing my helmet, I turned off the light and used night vision instead. My stomach rumbled from hunger, but I ignored it. I found the ash from a small campfire.
A couple hours before dawn, fatigue draped over me. I scouted the area, goosebumps and panting breaths belying my desire for sleep. A creature with glowing yellow eyes startled from a bower and ran off when I poked at it with my javelin. Nothing else was in there, so I crawled in and prayed it wouldn’t come back. I pushed through my fatigue and gathered any deadwood I could find to form a half wall around the bower. I also found a couple of large rocks. Before I collapsed, I managed to create the safest hiding place for now.
I woke at daylight with a gasp.
A creature with yellow eyes stared at me. It had short yellow fur and tufted ears, and its elongated snout resembled a cross between a lion and a Doberman. Fangs peeked out from its scaly snout, and its four long legs sported inch-long claws on its paws. It was slender with a barrel chest but narrow hips. A runner. It had a bulbous black skin-sac, just like most of the other animals. My throat dried up. This hybrid creature looked like the legendary Mishibizhiw of my ancient people. Part cougar and part dragon, responsible for the deaths of women and men by drowning. Luckily, there was no water nearby.
I gripped the javelin, but my gaze never left the cat—dragon? Cougar demon? With careful breaths, I maneuvered the javelin until its point aimed at the creature’s face.
I didn’t want to kill every animal that crossed my path—I just wanted to survive here—but this one was built to run. I could never outrun it, and its jaws looked like they could tear through the fabric of my suit. My suit’s nano-infused carbon-polymer blend was rated for ungodly situations but grappling with a leggy mountain cat wasn’t one of the product trials.
Since I was still lying on the ground, I slid one leg up to my chest.
Its gaze tracked the movement but returned to look me in the eye.
I moved my other leg. I wanted to be able to jump up at the right moment. I pushed myself up with my left arm, using deliberate slowness.
The cougar demon sniffed at me, its nostrils flaring and eyes dilating.
My shallow breaths made it hard for me to concentrate. I wanted to turn my head to see if there were others. Perhaps it was a pack animal. But it wasn’t crouching or stalking. It wasn’t breathing hard.
A long blue tongue slipped between its fangs and licked its entire snout with one swipe.
I backed up against the bush I was lying under and tried to use my peripheral vision to spot others. “VELMA, scan for life forms.”
“Mammal detected within five feet. Serpent detected three feet above your current location.”
Crap.
Scenes from a favorite classic film of my youth about an impossibly huge gorilla that grappled with assorted reptiles and dinosaurs flashed in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t outfight the cougar demon hybrid, and without the height advantage, I might not defeat the snake.
I crouched, the cougar demon still watching me. Its four nostrils flared as it tried to scent me. Other than the old blood from a kill, I doubted I had much of a scent since liquids sloughed off my suit by design, and I kept it clean with my makeshift camp sink. With aching haunches, I sidled out from under the bush, pulse racing, and expecting a strike from a giant snake any second.
So far, the cougar demon hadn’t moved to at
tack me.
Free of the bush’s arcing branches, I jumped and swung my javelin above me, hoping to dislodge and surprise the snake.
The cougar demon crouched and snarled at my sudden movement, but my javelin met resistance.
The cougar demon backed up, still snarling, but now its gaze locked with the serpent still above me.
I heaved at it with my javelin, and when it wouldn’t budge, I yanked at it to bring my weapon down. I looked up, and the snake coiled and recoiled its lithe body around a low-hanging branch. My gaze flicked to the cougar.
Its black bulge throbbed, but I heard nothing. Its gaze homed in on the snake, and I could see its short tail sticking straight up.
I heaved a breath and stepped back, planning to circle the tree and follow the trail, leaving the natural rivals to have at it. Behind the tree, I pressed my back to the trunk and breathed.
The cougar demon snarled, but everything else was silent.
I peeked around the trunk until I could see a portion of the cougar. Its hind legs bent and tail twitching, it looked like it might pounce at the snake, but I couldn’t be sure. If it saw me running off, its attention could be drawn to me. I peered into the shrubs and jungle growth. If I went too far into the brush, I could lose the giant’s trail.
I might have to wait until the snake and the cougar battled it out and cross my fingers that the victor would be too tired to come after me. I leaned my helmet against the tree. Why were the animals so quiet? I took several deep breaths and peered around the tree again.
The cougar demon was gone.
Crap.
Teeth on edge, I tiptoed around the tree, noting the snake was coiled further up in the branches.
The cougar demon had left no trace it had ever stood there.
Javelin held to my chest, I crept around the tree, scanning the entire area for more threats. My heart couldn’t handle much more excitement. Plants with red eyes on their stalks stared at me through the green and yellow foliage. I snuck further into the brush. It seemed like that particular carnivore was gone.
Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series) Page 9
