Hunted on Predator Planet

by Vicky L Holt

  “It is inadvisable to provoke your only means of escape from this planet.”

  “I wasn’t really going to say that to him,” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn’t want to consider the thrills that jittered up my spine when he had smiled a couple minutes ago. That didn’t make any sense to me. Fear paralyzed me, but I could work with anger. I quirked my mouth, disengaged my helmet and tossed it aside, sitting with a huff and resting my head between my knees.

  I heard Naraxthel approach. He squatted down.

  I raised my eyes to his.

  He must have deduced I was talking to my computer. Either that, or he thought I was a complete nutcase. His eyes squinted with concern or curiosity. He flicked a finger toward my helmet and raised his eyebrows.

  I shook my head. “I have no way to tell you what’s going on,” I said, dismal thoughts dragging my head and voice lower. “I’m stuck on this.” I slapped the cave floor. “Damn planet for the rest of my natural life.” I returned his gaze. With brows drawn together, he did kind of look like he cared. I continued. “Esra? No shevelt.” And that did it. Tears brimmed until he was a blurred green shape in front of me. I frowned and swiped the tears away with my other hand. My gut roiled in a soup of anger and hopelessness.

  Naraxthel reached out a finger and touched the wetness on my cheek.

  “Maikquo,” he said so softly I wasn’t sure if he intended me to hear it. I guessed it meant tears, but until VELMA had the language decrypted, we were at an impasse. Just like me on this god-forsaken predator planet.

  36

  I watched her move her mouth animatedly within her helmet. Her brows formed an angry arrow. She yanked off her helmet. Esra was a fiery little female. But when she threw her helmet aside, I could see her fire was reduced to ash. She sank to her knees, her face crumpling in defeat. I recognized the salty and crushed herb scent of homesickness drifting from her skin. I did not understand her words until she used the one I had just taught her. Her simple statement caused an ache inside my chest. I rubbed my armor over my heart-home, as if I could alleviate the pulse there. No, Esra did not have a home here. Her desire to leave the planet tapped at my conscience. No enemy of Theraxl could leave Ikthe. Her tears—I understood the songs then. Tears were the blood of a wound you could not see. I wanted to touch this clear blood.

  Holy Goddesses. Is this why you brought me a female from another world? That I would try to heal a wound without words? Even if words could bandage Esra’s sadness, I could not speak them.

  I hefted my pack to the floor beside her and sat, my ankles crossed in front of me. I pulled food out, hoping to entice Esra’s smile out from its hiding place. I smelled sadness, but also hunger.

  I placed my seasoned and dried rokhura meat on the cave floor between us and unwrapped the sister bread. I put my drink canister beside it.

  I drew her attention, and she tilted her head with an arched brow.

  “Wa,” I said, pointing to the canister. “Kafa.” I held the food in both hands, offering it to her.

  She sniffed and blinked her tears. “Water? Nowayt. Hoe-high-shuh wuzwater. Drink?” She took my canister and opened the lid. Sniffed it with her tiny nose, then placed her pink mouth upon the rim and drank deeply. My eyes caressed her throat before I forced them to blink. Still, I held the food out to her. She took it. “Kafa? Food.”

  I nodded. The soft lilts of her language appealed to my ears, as did the foreign yet fragrant smells that wafted from her hair and skin. Ever it reminded me of the flowers on Ikshe. I crooked a brow, studying the unexpected fluttering in my chest and shallow breaths. I swallowed, yet no food was in my mouth.

  I watched her take small bites of the meat, and then her face broke into a smile, showing the flatness of her teeth. I cocked my head and peered closer. Where her fangs should be were tiny fangs, just the smallest point on each. She caught me staring and covered her mouth. She mumbled something. I dipped my head in apology.

  “Wa,” she said, shaking her head and recovering from embarrassment. She pushed the canister toward me. She smelled the bread, closing her eyes and inhaling its fragrance. Sister bread was made from the grains on Ikshe. I wanted to tell her such trivial things. I clenched a fist briefly. There would be time. She tore a chunk off the bread and ate of it, moaning in delight. She swallowed the bite and a stream of words flowed from her mouth. She unfastened her own pack and pulled out the strange soft metal pouches. “Esra kafa.” She gave me a pouch and pointed to it. “No bred.” She pointed to the sister bread. “Bred. Soooguuud. Thenkyew.” She smiled a little, her eyes still touched by sadness and nodded, eating more sister bread.

  “Kama favelt-rax,” I told her, pressing a claw into the soft salt-encrusted dough. She cocked her head and attempted the sounds. Poorly. My mouth curved up on one side, but I said nothing.

  I held the tiny pouch in my hand. I recalled the strange mixture of flavors from yesterday. It was not unpleasant. However, I needed more to satiate my hunger. I tore the flimsy material and poured some water in it. I saw her from the corner of my eye, watching my every movement. I stirred the food inside with a claw, then poured the mash into my mouth. I drank from the canister and replaced it on the floor between us. A light aroma, something akin to morning dew, teased my nose. I glanced at Esra to see her skin change from its pale cream color to a rosy sunrise. She averted her eyes and cast them down. My eyes widened in surprise. My heart strained against its encasement, accompanying the fragrance in its common desire. I stood abruptly and walked away, a crease deepening between my brows with every step.

  Holy Goddesses of Shegoshel. What would you have me do with these sensations? There is no … pattern to follow.

  I took a deep breath, allowing the smells of the cave to flood my senses. I needed to dilute the fragrance of the naïve female. Too late, I caught the scent of a new agothe-fax—on the hunt.

  I spun on my heel to see the Elder sister agothe-fax stalking Esra from behind. A muffled voice sprang from the helmet still on the ground, and Esra’s eyes grew large. She stared at me and stilled. Did she sense the danger? Did her helmet technology warn her?

  She made the tiniest whimper, her eyes beseeching me.

  I watched the agothe-fax’s spike rise in position to strike. I drew the raxtheza’s singing blade from its sheath with my right hand, holding my left out, palm down.

  Do not move, Yasheza Mahavelt.

  Every sense hummed in tandem as I prepared to kill. The acrid stench of the agothe-fax’s hunger competed with the snick of one of its feet scratching against the grainy cave floor. I saw a bead of sweat form at Esra’s brow, and a droplet of agothe-fax venom shimmer poised at the tip of its striker.

  With a sudden lunge, I flung my blade at its head and leaped upon Esra to shield her from the glancing blow of its striker. I knocked her to the ground and felt the merciless hammer upon my back, but my armor shielded me from its venomous limb. I turned my head to see the beast collapse, but there was no time to celebrate my victory. Soon, the younger sister would seek vengeance. I grabbed my second blade from my back and rolled off of Esra, sparing her a quick look, to see she was shaken but unharmed. The second agothe-fax was not far behind, and I heard its clicks and whistles of dismay.

  With my double-blade poised to defend, I crouched. The agothe-fax clambered atop the mound of her dead sister and leapt at me. I grasped its foreleg with my free hand and gutted it with my double-blade, its blood drenching my arm up to the elbow.

  Its gore dripped from my armor, and I turned to see Esra backing away from me, her face ashen and her eyes wide and unblinking. I huffed a grim laugh. I no longer smelled the morning dew from her skin. It was just as well. I did not know what to do with the aberrant behavior of my heart.

  I investigated the corpses, puzzling out their appearance. It should have taken them many days to occupy this territory only recently disposed of its owners. The Elder and younger sister agothe-faxl were looking for new nesting grounds. I gave pause.

  The
mating season was starting a full moon-cycle early.

  My heart drummed a beat against the walls of its heart-home. Esra was in more danger. The roaming packs of male agothe-faxl would not be far behind. I cursed.

  Thrusting my filthy blades into the ground to clean them, I sheathed them and stuffed our meal back into my pack. I looked to Esra, wishing I could instruct her. Instead, I pointed to her helmet. “E du zaza!” I replaced my own with a quiet snap and held her pouch out to her, shaking it as I did so. She sensed my hurry and slung it over her shoulder and then put on her own helmet, all the while staring at me with those round blue-green eyes. She noted the place where I had dug my blades into the ground, a question forming on her lips. I shrugged.

  I dialed up my air flow, bidding the smells of the cave to assault me. There were three tunnels to this vast room. The males could arrive from any or all of them.

  Esra spoke, but I could not decipher her question.

  “Agothe-faxl hi!” I answered her. I saw her throat bob in a swallow. Ah, she understood. Good. I reached down to my calf and unsnapped my smallest blade. I handed it to her, hilt out, and she took it without hesitation. I smiled, my fangs clipping my lip. “Joiktheka.” Little hunter. I crouched and beckoned for her to stand at my back. We would fight the pack together.

  37

  I felt a rumble through my boots while VELMA said, “Subsonic scanning indicates the approach of five separate creatures called Agothe-faxl.” With Red at my back, we held our weapons poised for battle. I thought two spiders was bad?

  I wielded my multi-tool in one hand, and the borrowed knife from Red in the other. My machete swatter was back at the EEP. I didn’t think I would need it surrounded by the hulking aliens and their weapons. Although, after witnessing the spider blood-bath up close and personal, I wasn’t as worried as I would have been if I were alone. I glanced at the borrowed blade for a second. Red’s knives could pierce the very ground, as well as the spiders’ exoskeletons. Good to know.

  My blood pounded in my ears; my breath rushed out in gasps. I stared at the single opening I faced. Red had positioned himself between the other two tunnels. The little light he’d stuck to the wall cast our bodies in long shadows, disfiguring our shapes into such distorted monstrosities we resembled an arachnid ourselves.

  I gulped, wishing I’d had more than just the one drink from Red’s canister. Any second now—I felt more than heard a shift and tumble of heavy bodies advance from the tunnel in front of me. My hands were slick inside my gloves. I lost sensation in my toes, feeling a chill from my bones. My vision narrowed on the opening, and then the dark hairy legs entered the room first, tapping the ground and walls with their sticky pads. Their heads cleared the tunnel. They saw me and rushed. My heart in my throat, I squeezed my weapons so tight my hands hurt, and swung them without strategy toward the dark-brown furry bodies. With my heart in a full gallop and my breaths rasping in my dry throat, I slashed wildly. I screamed and hacked, one of them seizing my left arm with its many legs and hanging on. Revulsion crested over my body. I hacked downward at the agothe-fax attacking my feet while thrashing my other arm up and down, trying to shake the other one off. I felt a tight pinch at my wrist, but ignored it in favor of driving Red’s dagger down into the agothe-fax’s head. A flashing red light appeared in my visor, but I didn’t stop to read the notification. The agothe-fax collapsed, and I turned my attention to the one on my arm. I watched in horror as its mandibles chewed away at the cuff of my suit. I could see my skin.

  I roared and swung the knife at its head. The knife sliced through the hairy exoskeleton. It went limp, lost its grip and fell. I panted and narrowed my eyes at the ugly, creepy things that made my skin crawl. I’d been so busy fighting for my own life, I forgot Naraxthel was at my back. I dragged myself around, gasping for breath. Naraxthel sat against a cave wall, polishing his weapons with an oily cloth. Three agothe-faxl lay in crimped pieces, bleeding out onto the crusty ground.

  How long had he been sitting there? I stomped over to him and opened my mouth to yell, but nothing came out. He placed his weapons on the ground. He removed his helmet and shook out his hair fronds. His swirling blood-red eyes penetrated my gaze. His fangs peeked out as his mouth turned up in a smooth smile. He looked beyond me at the two dead ones then back at me and nodded once.

  I felt a flush of blood to my face. My chest puffed out, and I couldn’t help the smile that snuck up on me. I had killed two of those nasty things. Alone. I took a deep breath and nodded back.

  He gestured to the borrowed knife that dripped with goop. Recalling how he’d driven his weapons straight into the cave ground to remove the mess, I dropped to one knee and did the same.

  The dagger entered the stone floor as easily as if it were butter. What was this material? I removed it and inspected the metal. It gleamed with a faint purple light, but not in a glow-in-the-dark way. It was more the color of the metal, like the purple was infused into it. I twisted it this way and that, watching the light play off its beveled edges. I’d bet if I dropped one of my long hairs onto the blade it would fall away in two pieces. It was an enviable piece of work. I didn’t know metallurgy, but I was familiar with an alloy or two. This blend of metals was like nothing I’d seen before. Its heft was substantial, however. I doubted I could handle one of his bigger swords.

  I returned my gaze to him and discovered he’d been watching me inspect his blade. I sensed approval in his calm stare. I returned the dagger to him, hilt first, and he nodded once again. The flashing red lights returned, along with VELMA’s voice.

  “Your suit’s integrity has been breached. Please return to the EEP for possible medical treatment.”

  Schist, I was so jacked up with adrenaline I had forgotten the tingling burn in my wrist. I wrestled off my helmet and pulled at the material of my suit. After peeling it back I saw a scratch on my skin. That hairy bastard. I must have made a noise because Naraxthel stood and came to my side. He then tugged my left hand closer to him. I found his eyes. His brows furrowed deeply, and his mouth turned down. He spun me to face him with his huge hands on my shoulders and searched my eyes.

  “La du paza!” He said.

  I shook my head. My heart was racing, and I was breaking out into a cold sweat. He was still frowning, and his eyes peeled me layer by layer. Did the agothe-fax poison me? Was I about to die?

  He cradled my jaw with his hand and opened his own mouth, nodding at me. I opened my mouth.

  He tilted my head up, peering inside. He dropped his hands to my shoulders and patted them twice, nodding again. “Zaikshe,” he said, releasing my shoulder with a squeeze. “Esra la ikshemaza.”

  “Please return to the EEP for possible medical treatment,” VELMA intoned from my helmet.

  “It’s okay,” I said loud enough for my voice to register. “I think Naraxthel checked me out. He seems to think I’m okay.”

  That’s not to say my wrist was feeling better. It burned. I removed my gloves and unzipped the MDpak from its pocket below my breast. I snatched the anesthetic spray and zapped the shallow, inch-long scratch. I hissed through my teeth at the cold, prickling feeling, then it went numb. I returned the spray to its pocket and pulled out an antibacterial wipe. I hoped the agothe-fax’s mouth wasn’t venomous like the Komodo dragons’ back on Earth. I shivered. I stashed everything away and saw Naraxthel grimacing.

  “What?” I said.

  He poked my MDpak then touched his nose and made a face.

  I shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

  Maybe my medicine stank. I was quite certain I stank. I sniffed, noting the tang of the antiseptic odor. It tickled my nose, and I sneezed. “I swear I’m allergic to something on this planet.” I shook my head and put my helmet back on, watching Red watching me. His expression softened, his fangs disappearing inside his mouth for a second and the crease between his brows fading.

  “Please return to the EEP for possible medical treatment,” VELMA repeated.
<
br />   I turned away from Red to talk to VELMA. “I know my suit’s been breached, but I feel fine,” I said. “Have you made any progress with the language? I know a few words, and something tells me I need to know a lot more than how to say giant freaking spider.”

  “I have a growing database of words,” VELMA said. “However, I would like to try something different.”

  “What’s that?” I said, suspicious.

  “I can wirelessly access Naraxthel’s helmet technology,” she said. “If I hack into it, I could learn the language and facilitate your communication at a faster rate. However, that could impact interplanetary relations in an unpredictable way.”

  I sucked my bottom lip. “Interplanetary relations. That would involve actually communicating with these guys, an impossibility at this point.”

  There was an old maxim on Earth: Better to ask forgiveness than permission, and this was the edge we needed. I watched Naraxthel pressing buttons on an open wrist panel. VELMA could have access to a lot more than just the Theraxl language. I frowned. I didn’t want to cause an intergalactic incident. And I sure didn’t want to damage the very fragile trust developing between the alien and myself.

  I blew out a sigh. “I’m going to say yes with reservations, VELMA. Use your access to help us with translation. I know you could start dinking around in galactic cyberspace, but I’m going to ask you to refrain.”

  “Very well, Esra. Proceeding.”