Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series)

by Vicky L. Holt.

  With my water canister drained, as well as my water skin, I needed to collect more water. Joaxma slept on, but her breathing was steady. With reluctance, I placed her on my bedroll and stood, my back complaining from the long sit on hard ground.

  In truth, I had not noticed discomfort. Rather, my heart had seemed to slow, and I had reached a state of peace, as if I had wandered the halls of my dream place, when I had cradled her head in my lap and administered drops of clean water.

  I recalled chastising Naraxthel for considering giving the Holy Waters of Shegoshel to his soft traveler. Would I now go to such lengths to save Joaxma’s life were it necessary?

  I scoffed at myself and collected my water containers.

  Painful twinges ached in my chest when I left the cave, but I ignored the nonsense. My own body protested a lack of water, that was all.

  I scaled the rocks, mindful that a false move could initiate yet another rockslide, though it was doubtful after yesterday’s huge tumble. The best water could be found about thirty veltiks on the other side of this rocky hill.

  I dropped to the ground from the outcropping and loped through the ikfal to the small lake. The problem with the lake was its residents. The sharp-nose sisters did not like visitors, and most certainly not in the wee hours of the morning. It was a pity because glisten-fish could be found in the lake, but it had never been worth the battle.

  I stood at the shore and stared at the stars reflected in the still water.

  It had never been worth the battle. Until now.

  I could fill the water containers. I may not disturb the sharp noses. But on clear nights such as this, perhaps the glisten-fish would be close to shore. True, I did not have my pole. Or my nets. The night-crabs had destroyed them. But perhaps I could snag one or two with my bare hands?

  I crouched in the sandy loam and filled my water skin, leery of the sounds around me. The nonsense flies buzzed. And the giant grass jumpers sawed their hairy legs together, making a fracas. I hefted my plump water skin, secured the cap, dipped my canister, and let the water flow into the nozzle slowly so as not to create bubbling. The waters remained still.

  I switched to my water-sensor vision and spied two fat fish napping just under the water at shore’s edge. I allowed a pop of hope to spring up in my chest. My mouth watered. I licked my lips and sat my water containers beside me.

  If I timed my grab … just … right. I sliced into the water with my clawed gloves and snagged both fish, one in each hand. “Oh ho! Hivelt has fish!”

  The sharp-noses struck simultaneously, each winding around a leg, and dragging me into the lake in mere jotiks. I fell back, hitting the water with splashing impact, then flailed as they pulled me deeper.

  My armor switched to air mode instantly. For the briefest jotik, I considered keeping hold of at least one fish, but if I wanted to live, I had to relinquish them to seize my weapons.

  Sharp-nose sisters! My blades did not swing with precision or ease under the water. Instead, I was forced to use my double-blade as a saw and my dagger as an awl, stabbing and sawing at my attackers, hoping to persuade them I was not delicious before other bands of roving pazathe-sazal joined the fray.

  My weight dragged me to the bottom of the lake. I managed to behead one of the sharp-noses, but the other wound more tightly and slicked its giant mouth over my armor, seeking a place to embed its poisoned tongue barb. Its fierce horn protruding from the wide flat nose protected its head from my blows, so I was forced to stab into its eyes until it surrendered in pain and slinked away into the depths.

  Held back by the water’s pressure, I trudged along the lakebed, watching as glisten-fish darted to and fro before my eyes, disturbed by the clouds of silt my boots stirred up.

  An underground spring fed this lake, and some of the glisten-fish ended up here to live out their days. Happy after a fashion, perhaps, but not fulfilling their destiny to provide food for the night-crabs. And, as I tried to catch them with my fists, they eluded becoming my food as well.

  I emerged from the lake, water sluicing off in sheets, and bent to retrieve my water canister and skin. Only the thought of Joaxma sped my feet through the ikfal and over the outcropping. Perhaps I should be happy with my jerked meat. Perhaps there was no fish for Hivelt in this cycle.

  I heard movement from the cave when I reached its entrance. Had another shegoshe-tax come? My hand spasmed around the hilt of my weapon.

  “Light!”

  19

  I sat with my legs crossed and my hands resting on my knees, surrounded by a cool mist that eddied away, revealing a huge bird of prey. It cocked its head at me, shining emerald-green eyes that blinked once, twice.

  Its massive beak was hooked like an eagle’s, and its feathers shimmered golden in the light of the two suns. It stood silently, a sentinel before the entrance to a cave.

  I looked around. I was in a courtyard surrounded by hanging tropical plants, flowers of riotous color, and the sound of trickling water. The walls of the courtyard weren’t walls, but rather jutting rocks. The mist swirling around me was from clouds. Was I on top of a mountain?

  The bird continued to stare at me but stretched its wings wide—so wide they covered the entrance to the cave—and when it fluttered them, the sound of distant thunder rumbled through the cushion upon which I sat.

  Animikii, the Thunderbird!

  My previous dream played out in my mind’s eye: a simple greeting between the bird, myself, and two tall green women.

  “Where are the others?” I asked Animikii. My heart thudded in my chest to face one of the mythical creatures from my childhood.

  He flapped his wings once more, and the thunder pounded the top of the mountain. He leaned forward, cocking his head at me, a branch in his beak.

  I held my hands out, and he dropped the branch into my cupped palms.

  He stepped to the side and tucked his head under his wing.

  The branch limb was purple, with gray leaves, each stemming in alternate places. I brought the leaves to my nose and gasped. They smelled like sweetgrass!

  The women, no, the females—‘women’ was a term applied to humans, and these beings certainly weren’t—exited the cave arm in arm. They approached me.

  I scrambled to my knees so that I could bow in reverence and felt a hand on my head.

  “Rise, Pattee Crow Flies,” one said.

  I stood, resting my right hand on the weapon at my waist. I looked down, not remembering having a sword.

  “We have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” the other female said. “And we see you have found Sweet Leaf. If you burn the leaves, the smoke will rise to greet us.”

  I stared at them, mouth agape. They both stood at least a foot taller than me. They had angular facial bone structures like my own ancestors, but with swooping dark brows and feathers for hair and fangs protruding from their mouths.

  That was where the similarities ended. Defined muscles in their arms and shoulders spoke of strength and power. Claws for fingernails and thick toe appendages revealed them to be of another race.

  I glanced back to Animikii, but his head remained under his wing.

  “Our friend rests from a very long journey,” one said.

  “I am Younger Sister,” said the other. She pointed to her companion. “This is Elder Sister.”

  Elder Sister nodded and gave me a small smile; her fangs remained hidden behind her lips.

  “What do you need me for?” I asked before thinking.

  “You have a work to do,” Younger Sister said.

  “A fine work,” said Elder Sister.

  They turned and retreated into the cave, their long dresses swishing with their hips and revealing their bare heels. Talons protruded from each elbow, but then disappeared.

  Animikii’s feathers gleamed in the soft light, and I desired to touch them. I reached my hand out, and he started, raising his head with a cry.

  He shook out his feathers, and in a powerful thrust, rose from a crouch, and
lifted into the clouds, spiraling up and into oblivion.

  I woke in the dark and felt tears on my face.

  “Dad?” I shook my head. Dad was long gone. Why was my pod so dark? “VELMA, activate pod lighting.”

  I heard a muffled voice a couple feet away.

  Sitting up, my stomach cramped, and the cold from the stone seeped in through my gloves. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was a crescent of black sky and stars, and I realized I was in a cave.

  My helmet’s orange glow guided my attention to it.

  With heart pounding in my chest and breaths coming swift, I scrambled to my feet and put my helmet back on with shaking hands.

  “VELMA, what is the result of the air analysis?”

  “Elevated heart rate detected. Vitals consistent with mild dehydration. Please drink water and eat to restore electrolyte levels to normal.”

  “VELMA, I got it. The analysis, please!” What was happening inside my body? It was the one thing I had no power over. And without my helmet … A shudder began behind my sternum and rippled outward, causing me to shake with fear.

  “My analysis discovered the presence of an airborne cyanobacteria that may be dangerous to human physiology,” VELMA said. “As long as you wear your helmet, the filtration system will prevent the cyanobacteria from compromising your health.”

  My shoulders slumped, and I leaned against the rock wall in the cave. I sunk to the ground. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten to this cave. And I didn’t remember taking off my helmet.

  The strange dream with Animikii was already fading in my mind. My mouth felt dry, so I tried to sip from the hydration straw, but it came up empty.

  My limbs were lethargic and heavy. Fatigue sapped my strength. I needed to return to my EEP, but I wasn’t sure where it was, and it was night.

  A couple of deep breaths. It was time to stand.

  I heard gravel crunch—a footstep.

  Another.

  “Elevated heart rate. Do you need assistance?”

  “Hush, VELMA.” I stared at the opening as I gripped my multi-tool. I wasn’t sure where my machete was. I frowned. How was I …? Confusion jumbled my thoughts. I had woken in a strange place without my helmet, with stomach cramps, and a missing machete. And without my hand-carved javelin. I cocked my head when I heard another footstep. I had been tracking footprints.

  The stars disappeared behind a huge shadow.

  My pulse jumped in my throat.

  Words erupted from the shadows, and then the cave was bathed in light.

  I raised my hand to my visor to block its brightness.

  Tracking. I’d been tracking him. And apparently, I’d found him.

  20

  “Light!”

  My bead light shone.

  Joaxma wore her helmet again, but she still looked peaked. She shielded her silvery eyes and stared at me in confusion.

  I held out the water canister. “Water.”

  Her shoulders dropped, and she bowed her head. When she raised her head to look at me, I saw wetness on her cheeks, but she did not cry now. Instead, she reached behind her helmet to unfasten it. She took it off and shook out her long black hair.

  My heart squeezed and trembled, pulsing against the opening of my heart cage. I dropped the canister and stood, pounding against my chest with my fist and coughing. Without another word, I left the cave.

  I accessed my life support systems in my visor. All systems were normal. I stood with my hands on my hips and looked up into the stars. “Holy Sisters of Shegoshel, I am ever your servant. But I have no idea in kathe what thou wantest from me.” I bowed my head and returned to the cave to see the little builder drinking her fill from the canister, and warmth spread into my cheeks. “Water,” I rasped.

  “Yes,” she replied and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Itz gud. Thenk yew.”

  She handed the canister back to me, and I took it. I drank my fill and recapped it. I untethered the waterskin from my waist and handed it to her. “Water.”

  She cocked her head and took it, looking at it.

  “Keep it. It’s yours now.” I gestured she should keep it with her.

  She seemed to understand and tucked its loop through a toolbelt at her waist. She replaced her helmet and spoke, though I didn’t hear her words.

  I felt heat at my back and turned to watch the Sister Suns rise over the jungle canopy. A new day before me with no orders to follow or agenda to keep, save to stay alive. And keep the little builder alive.

  When I turned back to see her, she was standing. She had found her sharp blade and her javelin, and held them casually, ready to hike, perhaps.

  I tilted my head at her.

  She spoke words I didn’t understand but pointed in the direction of the glade with her javelin. She frowned as she spoke and dipped her head a few times, then gestured to herself.

  I had no inkling what she was trying to say.

  Her face and hands grew more animated the longer we stood looking at each other. Finally, she pointed her javelin at me.

  I grunted and retreated a step, hand poised above my hilt.

  Her cheeks darkened, and she looked away. Then she pointed the tip of the javelin to the ground. She knelt and swept gravel away, clearing a small area. Then with her spear-point, she drew a fair approximation of her ship. She looked up at me.

  “Yes,” I said, assuring her I was watching.

  Then she rubbed it out. She drew an oval, and then a partial rendering of her ship. She jabbed at the drawing with force, each time pointing at me with her other hand. Her brows furrowed, and her mouth turned down.

  I stared.

  I didn’t understand her words or expressions, but when she started to march to the ledge and then faced me once more with her fists at her hips, I realized she intended to return to the glade.

  I looked down at the picture. Her ship appeared to have fallen in a hole. Had it gone over the gulch? It hadn’t been close enough to do that. There were no holes in the glade, nor quicksand. Only the meadow under which the cave system … “Joaxma!”

  She cocked her head at my call, though she couldn’t know my nickname for her.

  “Your ship!”

  She frowned but made a beckoning motion with her hand, then pointed to my pack and back at herself.

  “Ah, yes.” I gathered my pallet and pouch of dried meat and packed up.

  She watched me until assured I understood, then climbed down the embankment, her pelt secured once again above her pack. I had left her things unmolested, busying myself as I had been with administering a constant supply of water. I would continue to monitor her health, as I doubted her capability of traveling far.

  I watched her climb down and jump at the bottom, turning and using her javelin as a walking stick to hike through the ikfal.

  I jumped all the way down, impatient. I landed in a crouch, dust rising in a cloud at my landing.

  She looked behind at me, and, while her eyes widened, she said nothing. She walked, stumbling every few steps.

  I allowed her to stumble along for a zatik, until she almost fell, at which point, I tapped her on the shoulder.

  She craned her neck to look up and behind at me.

  “Let me carry you. You are too weak.”

  Her brows furrowed. She turned back and continued.

  I sighed.

  She tripped again a few steps later, and I gathered her in my arms. She yelled and pointed to her javelin.

  “Yes, yes.” I stooped to let her grab it.

  She tried to fidget out of my arms, but I held her more tightly. Words flowed from her mouth.

  Sighing, I put her down but held her shoulders. When she calmed, I removed one hand and motioned she should stop and pointed toward the glade.

  She nodded.

  I pointed to her feet. I mimicked tripping.

  She bowed her head.

  “Yes,” I said and picked her up again.

  She did not fig
ht me, but she refused to look at me.

  I sighed again but ran through the ikfal, knowing we would both be more comfortable when she was safe at her ship.

  I chose the bowel of a dead and fallen forest-teeth tree to bed down at nightfall. She was barely lucid when I sang her my mother’s songs, and I fell asleep almost as soon as her eyes closed. The Goddesses hounded my sleep, showing me visions of glisten-fish. And when I reached for the fish, it changed to the bloody carcasses of my brother hunters. Sometimes I saw the little builder. She fought the pazathel-nax with my weapon and bested the devil dog with ease. And then the Ikma Scabmal Kama sprung at her back and slit her throat from behind while I watched. I woke with a howl stuck in my throat, my weapons at hand and sweat pouring down my neck. My heart pounded fruitlessly against its cage.

  I recalled Naraxthel holding his soft traveler when the rains came, and I groaned inwardly. With my heart nestled against the opening at the heart-home, I grew suspicious of the Goddesses. I wondered if Naraxthel had experienced the same change. It was a myth. Or was it? I held her securely and rumbled in confusion with her in my arms.

  In the morning, she continued to refuse to look at me, but it didn’t matter. With her heart mere jovelts from mine, this hunter felt a strange contentment. Holy Sisters—what is the meaning of this? They did not deign to answer.

  21

  I was so tired, but I hated that this behemoth was carrying me like a child.

  VELMA assured me it was just dehydration, but I was waiting for the cyanobacteria to make its presence known in my body.

  I shouldn’t be mad at the alien.

  Damn. He was indigenous. I was the alien here. He had been trying to help me when he had taken off my helmet. He couldn’t have known. Just like I hadn’t known. I groaned. I needed his help—now more than ever. I needed VELMA’s advanced medicine to keep me alive, and I could only get it if we righted the pod.