Tracked on Predator Planet (Predator Planet Series)

by Vicky L. Holt.

  The hatch opened; because of my angle, light from the outside shone on my feet. I could see Hivelt’s legs and boots through the square.

  “VELMA is going to pass some materials out to you. Have you used a pulley before?”

  I heard grunting.

  VELMA translated.

  “Hivelt has used such items.”

  The way he referred to himself in third person cracked me up.

  The soft whirring of the robotic arm hummed in my ears. VELMA transferred each pulley block, the Prusik loops, and the rope out into Hivelt’s waiting hands.

  “This is a fine rope,” he muttered.

  “It’s graded to 10,700 pounds,” I said with pride. “We discovered a new metal about …” I sighed. With so much distance between myself and the last known sighting of the Lucidity, it didn’t matter when humans had found Galvanite. “Anyway, it’s made with Galvanite fibers, as well as a blend of neoprene and polycarbonate.”

  “I do not know these materials. Theraxl prize our strongest material, the metal woaiquovelt. It is mined from the roots of the Black Heart Mountains,” he said. “But traveling to the mines is very dangerous. Many of my brethren die on such journeys.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. Working for IGMC, I was no stranger to mining accidents. The payouts to the families were so generous that the conglomerate continued to draw a certain kind of person to apply for its off-planet expeditions. Persons such as myself. Runners. Hiders. Cowards. I inhaled deep through my nose. “I’m going to tell you where to attach the blocks, okay?”

  A grunt. “I am ready.”

  Using the video from the drone, I scanned the area and the body of the EEP. If Hivelt attached the anchor rope to the big tree in the center of the glade, he could then secure one of the blocks to my portside cable ring.

  “Hivelt, the tree will be the anchor.”

  “It is what I would choose, as well.”

  “Okay.”

  “Very well, Pattee Crow Flies,” he said, and his legs disappeared from my view. He reappeared on the video, where he secured the rope to the tree. I debated telling him which knots to use but decided a hunter of his caliber must know a thing or two about knots already. Sure enough, when I zoomed in, he was employing a complicated knot with skilled hands. A flutter of interest riffled in my heart, but I ignored it. The pressure in my head pounded.

  When he finished, I directed him to the portside cable ring.

  “The blue metal pulley is the snatch block. Thread the rope through that sheave.”

  He followed my directions with ease, and without my lead, picked up the fiddle block. Soon, he had wound the rope four times, giving himself a five to one mechanical advantage. Each length of rope added another 452 pounds of strength.

  Now I needed a stable spot for him to drag the ship to. Off the edge was a priority, but after that, flat ground was preferable, especially after the sinkhole fiasco. The outcropping had collapsed all over the glade. I reviewed the video again. Maybe beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “If you can get the pod away from the ledge, I can get out and help.”

  Another grunt. Hivelt was putting off some caveman vibes. I smiled. He paced the rope from anchor to ship. He inspected the rope where it snaked through the sheaves in the pulleys, then determined it was ready, and began pulling.

  I watched in fascination as his limbs bent with the effort.

  The sensation of slow movement lulled my body with its caress. Then the wrenching sound of grating rocks and spilling gravel sliding along the EEP pierced my ears. “Close the hatch!”

  The hatch snicked shut, and I watched Hivelt pull the rope with massive strength. The EEP rose out of the rockfall. Stones spilled into the gap left by the ship, and some tumbled off the ledge and into the ravine. I felt my body transition to horizontal and felt relief from the pressure of the blood flow that had pooled in my head.

  Hivelt’s power astonished me. I couldn’t help but stare at him, boots planted in the ground, pulling hand over hand, bringing my ship to safety.

  “Warning, foreshocks detected. Microtremors increasing. Likelihood of earthquake,” VELMA announced amidst alarms.

  Oh no.

  I watched, helpless, as Hivelt stumbled while the ground shook. I felt the trembling through the table I was strapped to. But then my ship jolted, and I felt myself tip down again.

  The drone kept Hivelt in view as he grasped the rope in both hands, but the weight coupled with the shaking pulled him toward the ravine. His boots skidded along the terrain.

  Fear for Hivelt gripped my throat in a vise. Physics equations multiplied in my mind. The schematics, the mechanical advantage numbers … It was all useless in the face of plate tectonics.

  Great Spirit …

  I heard a roar. Hivelt doubled up the rope in his arms and thrust his shoulders back. I watched him defy gravity and unstable ground by sheer force of will. He took a step back. Another. While the trembling continued and boulders shifted around my pod, Hivelt continued his relentless march backward. Every step was an act of defiance. Every pull a sign of his willpower and brute strength. My life was in his hands. And he was never letting go.

  I held my breath.

  He held my heart.

  The shaking stopped. He continued to pull until he could secure the rope around the tree. My pod was upright again and several meters from the drop-off.

  I exhaled and closed my eyes.

  The ship was now a safe distance from the ledge but unbalanced on the uneven, rocky surface.

  “You did it,” I said. “I can’t believe you did it.”

  Heavy breathing echoed in my ear.

  “I will do anything for you,” he said. “Will you come out?”

  “It is inadvisable that you leave the pod until you complete your treatment program,” VELMA said.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

  The harnesses unbuckled and zipped back into their slots. I lay still for a minute, breathing and letting my equilibrium stabilize. Then I slid off the table, grabbed my helmet with shaking hands and exited through the hatch, stepping with care onto the rock pile.

  He stood, surveying his handiwork.

  I paused and admired the breadth of his shoulders and barrel chest. He was power personified. “Hivelt.”

  He turned at the sound of his name.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. It seems we are now in the habit of pulling one another out of rocky circumstances.”

  I smiled. “We are, at that.”

  We both looked at the ship. It was scratched up and squatty with its missing nosecone.

  “I’m not sure where to park it,” I said. “I suppose I could leave it where it is.”

  “If I had my ship, I could use my hover barge to move it for you,” he said.

  I looked at him. “You don’t have your ship?”

  “I came to Ikthe by command of the Queen, Ikma Scabmal Kama.” He gestured to the distant planet visible in the sky. “I and my brethren arrived on Naraxthel’s ship and were tasked to retrieve woaiquovelt and Waters of Shegoshel under penalty of death.”

  My mouth made an ‘O’, but I let him speak.

  “My brethren and I ran into a pack of the devil-dogs.” He nodded toward the clearing where he had fought them by himself not that long ago. “We were separated.”

  Hivelt paused and rested his hands on his narrow hips. “I made a decision that I now repent. I desire you will come with me to rejoin my brethren, as I believe they are in grave danger.”

  I wondered what it cost him to tell me his secret. It was hard to know just by watching his expressionless helmet.

  “Esra is coming here. I have to wait for her,” I said. “I also need to finish my treatment.”

  “Will you not travel with me, then?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth. Shut it. My shoulders dropped, and I stepped off the rock pile onto the smashed grasses of the glade and looked at the
destruction.

  My little homestead had been razed. Whatever little domestications I had planned needed to start over.

  Esra had … paired up? Or something. With another of the indigenous males. She traveled with him. I could give her my new coordinates with ease if I decided to travel with Hivelt.

  I bit my lip.

  The shabby pod and trashed glade were no longer as welcoming as they had been before.

  My hands fisted. I blew out.

  “If your brothers are in danger, you must go to them. I will finish my treatment and then catch up with you. Except I still need your DNA before you leave.”

  Hivelt cocked his head. He, too, looked over the destruction of the glade.

  “The Goddesses are inscrutable,” he mumbled. He turned a circle, encompassing the rockfall, the gulch, the stream, and the tree line. He faced me once again. “My heart tells me I must wait for your recovery,” he said. “I do not doubt you could follow me with ease, little builder. However, the Goddesses may rain more terror upon my head were I to leave you to your own devices this time.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I will finish up, and we can be on our way.”

  I stood facing him, shifting weight from foot to foot.

  His helmet turned this way and that.

  I gestured to the ship. “I’ll just … go in there. Again.”

  “Yes, very well.”

  My face heated. I started to reach out a hand toward him, but then pulled it back. “Um, thank you. Again.”

  “You are welcome,” he said. “I will remain close by, should you need me.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I cleared my throat and clambered back up to the ship. I entered, closed the hatch, and activated the stabilizer legs.

  The floor slanted, but it would be fine for the last few hours of my treatment.

  “VELMA, call back the drone.” I sat on the exam table and laid down, listening to the steady beeps and the zipping noise of the tubes and cables returning to their positions in my suit. “Hivelt’s a nice guy,” I said, and then bit my tongue. Why had I said that to VELMA? She didn’t care.

  “Hivelt has shown great efficiency in protecting your health. As your Vector AI, I hold him in high regard.”

  VELMA’s answer made me blush, and I stopped talking. Efficiency wasn’t the first thing I thought of when I thought of Hivelt.

  33

  I unwound the ropes and “blocks” as Pattee called them. Such tools would be most helpful in our attempts at traversing the under-mountain passageways. I pondered the erratic beatings of my heart and creaking yawns of the heart-home. Naraxthel had declared Esra to be his heart mate?

  He was not known to lie or double the truth, as some hunters were wont to do. I recalled the timid female. She had kicked wildly when I’d had her by her suit’s neck brace. When Naraxthel had told me the woman was his gift, I thought him mad. Or perhaps with plans to pillage. However, Naraxthel had never been known to behave in such a manner. He treated her with respect. As an equal.

  What had she said when he had told her she was his heart mate?

  I could barely imagine Hivelt saying such a thing to Pattee. I laughed.

  With an expandable rucksack to stow the tools, I then coiled the rope until I could lash it to my belt.

  I scouted the now rocky glade for wildlife. The landquake would have driven the animals to the surface, down from the trees, and out of the meadows. Frightened animals were dangerous animals.

  Drawing my double-blade, I strode to the widened stream, where its littered waters flowed sluggishly. It seemed the amount of debris had tapered off.

  I walked to the tree line where Pattee had snares. Some had been destroyed, others were empty. I paused often to smell and listen for predators. I paced, noting my heightened pulse and twitchy nerves. How fared Naraxthel and Esra? What of my other brethren? How much longer would Pattee remain in her pod?

  The forest remained still, but I felt no peace. I returned to the pod, scowling at the place where the bones lay buried under the rockfall. They could have been used for making useful tools. I glanced at the pod. I would have loved to see what use Pattee could have made of them. I spied the forelegs of one of the sister dogs. With nothing better to do, I could retrieve the body and preserve the fur. The itching desire to see it white and stark against Pattee’s dark-sands skin burned in my heart.

  I busied myself with the task, pleased that the fur was unmarred from the single death shot from Pattee’s ship’s weapon. I inspected the wound, frowning at its precision.

  Raxthezana’s question popped into my mind again. “Are we being invaded?”

  I thought of Pattee’s “weapons”. She carried what she called a machete and a spear hewn by her own hand. No other weapons. I pondered my dream and her dream. We both dreamed of her carrying my sword. What were the Goddesses telling us?

  As I worked on the skin, the Sister Suns passed across the sky.

  I could find the place where I had left my sword. Perhaps I should take Pattee there to retrieve it. A subtle peace entered my heart. Yes. We would travel east for a few days, reclaim Hivelt’s sword, then travel north to join with Naraxthel and my brothers.

  Thoughts of Naraxthel and Esra troubled me, however. Where had they been when the landquake had struck, and were they safe?

  “Naraxthel, it is Hivelt.”

  Silence again, but not of the peaceful kind. My gaze strayed to the ship. Soon.

  34

  Esra slept at my back while we sat in the tunnel.

  I stared at the rokhural pack as they milled about their eggs. They sniffed at the destroyed ones and ate them without hesitation. The light from the crack in the ceiling waned as the Sister Suns went down.

  Aftershocks rumbled through the ground beneath us, keeping the beasts wary. And myself.

  However, in this tik, I never thought to experience the joy that Esra had brought into my life. All about her was new: her perspective, her ideas, her opinions, her intelligence. I craned my neck to catch any scent of her, but her helmet was firmly in place. I loved her smell and the flavor of her sweat. I closed my eyes for a moment to recall the taste of her skin on my tongue. Esra was my gift from the Goddesses. Ever would I strive to be her gift from Them as well.

  But with the gift came fear. As brave as she was, danger lurked on my hunting grounds. I feared making a fatal mistake. Dropping my guard for a second could cost her life. Unaccustomed to the anxieties that rolled over my person, I found it difficult to rest, especially now, with hungry predators not twenty-five veltiks from where my mate slept.

  I studied the route through the nested eggs that led to a possible exit tunnel. I could traverse it fast and without incident, but Esra, protector of my vulnerable heart, was as loud as the thundering clouds surrounding Black Heart Mountain when she attempted to walk without making noise. I sighed.

  I suspected the rokhural knew we were here, but they didn’t charge at us. I frowned. Perhaps it had to do with the nestlings. Were they close to hatching? Maybe the adults feared for their young should a battle ensue.

  As darkness descended in the nesting pit, the sister rokhural covered the eggs with their bodies.

  I switched to night vision and studied the scene.

  I was fast but too huge. The rokhural would see me were I to cross the nest. The cave-in had damaged my stealth-settings. If VELMA were in contact, she might be able to help repair them.

  But Esra, if she could avoid creating noise, was small enough to escape detection. She could cross the site and see if there was indeed another tunnel we might exit from.

  I turned, scooped her small form into my arms, and leaned her against the rock wall. “Wake to me,” I whispered and squeezed her.

  She stirred.

  “It is full dark. I need you.”

  She sat up and raised her brows at me, a sign she was curious but receptive. I was pleased to learn any small signs that helped us communicate.

  I nodded toward the nest.

&n
bsp; “You are small and making great strides in your practice to walk with stealth,” I said. It was, perhaps, doubling the truth, but I needed her confidence. “If you traverse the grounds near the south wall, you can pass the resting rokhural, and explore the eastern wall. There may be an exit tunnel there.”

  She had explained her occupation to me, with VELMA’s help, and I had understood it to mean she was a student of the gifts of the mountains.

  “Is it likely there are more such tunnels as this?” I slid my gloved hand along the wall at my back.

  I watched consternation play across her face. She lowered a brow and bit her bottom lip. I had bitten that same lip and found it to be distracting. I closed my eyes and inhaled of the scent of the rokhural den.

  She nodded. “These caverns were formed from carbonic acid over a very long time. It looks like dolomite bedrock. The odds are good that tunnel systems run throughout the area.” She stood, brushing powdery dust off her bottom. “How long have they been asleep?” She peered around me, her visor dark as she employed night vision like my own.

  “A few tiks. Let them fall more deeply into slumber, and then I will be ready should they spy you.” She nodded. “Okay.”

  I reached out and grabbed her hand to squeeze it. Esra’s bravery ever inspired me.

  We watched the sleeping reptiles for a few iktiks, and then I tightened my grasp for a moment, and released her.

  Her helmeted head turned to face me, though I couldn’t see within.

  Esra nodded and crouched, entering the dark cavern where the sleeping rokhural lay upon their surviving eggs. She crept along, mindful of loose stones. My heart swelled with pride as she stepped slowly, remembering my lesson that speed was wasted if one was spotted by a predator. Invisible prey lived the longest.

  She had traveled but three veltiks, and the rokhural slept on. I watched her hand trace the south wall. Halfway across the cavern, I could no longer see her behind a rockfall.

  I held my breath. I heard nothing. Not a step, not a rolling pebble or scrape of boot upon rock. Had she stopped to rest? Fallen down a crevasse? I peered into the darkness. No movement. No sound.