by Vicky L Holt
She took a step closer to the pod, and I advanced, my body between her and the vessel. She cocked her head at me.
“I do not know what you are protecting, but sensed truth in your words when you said it was no threat to Ikma. Do you tell the truth?”
“I do,” I said. My heart beat a faster pace when she roved her eyes up and down the small ship.
She took a deep breath through her nose. “No,” she said with a tilted head. “It poses no threat.” She sighed and shook her head. “A pity.” She circled the pod, gliding through the grasses. She inspected the ship, noting the panels and engines, its sleek lines and straight-edged fins with the tip of a finger. She peered at the round window but didn’t lean closer to see inside.
I couldn’t prevent my shallow breathing.
Her nostrils flared. “You are afraid I will discover this ship’s occupant,” she said, returning to her original spot in front of her ramp. “This puts me in an excellent bargaining position.”
I growled.
Her tinkling laugh echoed in the night and launched the sawing of the nocturnal insects.
“At ease, Iktheka,” she said. “I am curious, but not enough to risk being tattooed by your pretty knife.” Her eyes glanced at my weapons. “Ikma will not be satisfied for long by your lack of sight-captures. If my mission fails tonight, then she will bring her entire battalion to fetch you. I will be relegated to lower-class diplomatic missions to the Deadlands for cycles. And Ikma’s debauched foolery in the Royal Court will continue unchecked.” She supported her chin with her delicate hand. “An Iktheka such as yourself will not be cowed by Ikma’s demands, but you will be killed. After raxfathe, of course.”
I dipped my head but said nothing.
She walked up to me and pressed her mouth to the earpiece of my helmet. “If you and I play a deep game, we might depose our Ikma and restore the true ways of Theraxl. But we need each other.”
I inhaled, examining the aroma that tickled my nose. I tried to detect deception or subterfuge, but the clean scent of wind-dried linens and cone trees filled my nose through the breath ports of my helmet. She spoke the truth.
“How have you deceived the Ikma into believing your undying loyalty?” I scrutinized her.
She lifted a shoulder. “I mean what I say when I say it; it is as simple as that.”
“How can I know you won’t travel back to Ikshe telling tales of my treachery?”
Her eyes narrowed once again, and an unholy light shone from her red eyes. She lowered her forehead a fraction when she stared at me. “Ikma stole my Consort’s affection from me fifteen cycles ago. I have not forgiven her.”
The pungent aroma of burning jokal grass assaulted my nose. It was the stench of vengeance; I could not mistake it.
I folded my arms and stared at her a long tik. “What of your guards?”
“There are no guards,” she said. “I came alone.”
Taken aback, I tipped my head. She led me to believe she traveled with guards, but there were none. Dare I trust her? I thought of Esra, slowly ravaged by a hunter I could not taste, or smell, or defy. If she lived, Ikma would wreak her vengeance, not only upon the Younger Sister and myself, but upon the innocent traveler. I thought of my brethren, subjected to Ikma’s whims, and their little hunters and sisters who would most likely become fatherless after this quest. And I thought of the Holy Goddesses. I tested my fangs with my tongue and stared into BoKama’s eyes. “I will help you.”
Her fanged smile parted her face. “We have little time. Confer with me now.”
43
My eyes blinked rapidly. Disoriented, I searched the chamber for Red, then my sight fell upon the monitor. The EEP’s drone employed night vision to make out the shapes of Red and his alien companion. I had lost consciousness and missed their conversation. Heads bent together, they colluded.
“VELMA, please translate.”
“Naraxthel has removed his helmet,” VELMA said. “I can only pick up scattered words through the exterior mic. Would you like me to relay the words I can hear?”
I bit my lip. “Yes.”
“Very well. I will display them onscreen.”
Eyes riveted to the monitor, I watched as a series of words scrolled across the screen.
“Mutually assured destruction … guarantee … discovered.”
VELMA made note of who was speaking what words, but I was missing the whole picture. I glanced at the other monitor that displayed my vitals. The numbers, as well as my fading consciousness, told the story of my illness.
More words: agreement … will never … hide the alien traveler.
Alien. Traveler.
That was me. I was the alien, the interloper. And it seemed Naraxthel had just agreed to reveal my presence to his people.
Heart jumping to my throat, I swallowed a couple times.
“BPM spiking. Administering relaxant.”
“Wait!” I hoped VELMA listened. “Do not allow Naraxthel or his BoKama to enter the pod.”
“Hatches sealed.”
I took several breaths through my nose. It wouldn’t do any good to activate the camouflage. Yet. If they left the landing site, I could enable the hDEDs and bide my time. At least until I could get well and escape. There must be other cave systems. Or mountain ranges. My mind drifted to Raxthezana’s map. These hunters knew this planet inside and out. Oh God, I was trapped here. With no allies except a glorified poop scanner.
“Naraxthel is requesting permission to enter the pod.”
“No!” My free hand clenched. “He told the female about me. They could kill me.”
“Naraxthel is requesting permission to speak.”
I clamped my mouth shut. I was tied down to the exam table. Possibly dying. But I was sealed inside. They couldn’t even blast me out, as the Galvanite metal was indestructible. Rumor was you could fly it into the sun.
I heard two taps on the hatch. Not pounds.
“VELMA, show them onscreen.”
The one called BoKama stood away from the pod, composed. Serene. Naraxthel stood at the hatch. He had replaced his helmet, but his head was bowed at the door.
“What do you want?” I asked VELMA to translate.
“I need to discuss a matter that concerns you,” he said.
I blinked away a tear. “I need for you and BoKama to leave me in peace. I will not trouble your people. Or your planet.” Especially if I was dead.
“Esra, let us converse. The Younger Kama and I mean you no harm.”
“We can talk through the hatch,” I said. I stared at the screen, willing the suns to come up so I could see better. “You should just leave me.”
“I have told BoKama of your bravery and courage facing the agothe-faxl.”
I didn’t reply but replayed the battle in my mind.
“A traveler from the stars is unprecedented,” Naraxthel continued. “My queen would torture you before she would accept explanations. BoKama and I can see this attitude may destroy our race in the future. Please let us converse together.”
I played with the fabric of my suit. A wave of nausea cramped my body, and I groaned. VELMA tightened a strap around my chest.
“Esra!” Red shouted.
“I’m fine,” I said, gasping for breath. “VELMA, what’s happening to me?”
“Monitoring vitals. The medicine continues to fight the infection in your system. You require rest.”
I snorted. I required rest the moment I landed in this hellish place.
“I can’t trust you, Naraxthel,” I said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know or trust BoKama. I don’t know your queen. She sounds like a real piece of work.”
I watched him lean his helmet against the hatch. His fists clenched. BoKama folded her arms and bowed her head, patient. Waiting.
“Esra, I understand your reluctance. I, too, had my doubts about your presence. Only the Goddesses could send one so helpless to a planet full of predators and smile upon it.”
Flashes o
f the Goddesses from my dreams swept my mind. They were, in fact, smiling. Nearly every time I saw them.
“I can’t protect myself from you, Naraxthel.” My voice sounded tiny and helpless. I watched the video feed. His shoulders rose and fell.
“You will never need to, Soft Traveler,” he said. I watched him lift his helmet and look in BoKama’s direction. “If need be, BoKama will remain outside. We wish to make peace with you. We do not wish to make you afraid.”
I laughed. “I’ve been afraid for days, now.”
Another cramp pulled at my middle.
I gasped. Felt sweat at my temples. Creased my brows. I didn’t want to be alone. A sharper cramp. Aw hell. I was dying anyway.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this. But you can come back in. May as well bring your BoKama too.”
On the screen, Red bowed his head and pressed his palms together in a gentle salute. BoKama made the same gesture and walked slowly toward the pod.
“VELMA, open the hatch.” Then I muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
BoKama entered first, her grace and beauty taking my breath away. She was the very feminine yet wiry version of the males. Long muscular limbs, spare breasts, pointy chin and high cheekbones. Her hair was up in an elaborate display of hundreds of braids. Oh. I gasped. I turned to see Red. Once again, Naraxthel paused at the opening, removing his armor piece by piece.
BoKama caught me watching him. VELMA translated for her. “Pain is a way of life for Ikthekal.” She scanned Red a second. “The armor connects to his skin with barbed tendrils. To wear it causes pain. And to remove it, causes pain. But the hunter endures it without complaint.”
Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away. The scars dotting his body were from his armor?
“I don’t want to cause him pain,” I whispered. “He’s done nothing but save me—almost since I arrived.”
BoKama placed a bare cool hand upon my forehead. “It is our way.”
I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his stoic expression as he waited a second before each tough panel released. Even when BoKama spoke.
“I am called BoKama, Younger Sister to the Ikma Scabmal Kama, the Queen Elder Sister. I am second in command of these handsome hunter warriors we call Ikthekal.”
“I’m Esra Weaver,” I said. I felt my eyes grow round when Red’s muscular body folded to crawl in. “I’m an exo-geologist and a miner.” I licked my lips. His muscles. So many muscles. And so many tiny star-shaped scars. Tears pricked my eyes but I blinked them back.
Naraxthel entered. In only a step, he was standing over me. The pod was now officially crowded. His brow furrowed into a deep groove.
“You have grown sicker in a short time.”
“VELMA tells me the medicine is still working.”
“Sweat pours from your skin,” he said. “I smell sour water. You are very ill.”
I barely had the energy to chuckle. “If I knew you were going to insult me, I wouldn’t have invited you in.”
BoKama nudged Red back. “Hunters have not experience conversing with the stronger sex. What medicine is your technology using?”
“VELMA?”
“I have manufactured a bacteriophage using a single drop of the Waters of Shegoshel and dirt samples from your planet. The bacteria appear to be metabolizing the bacteriophage.”
“What does that mean?” I asked VELMA.
“Your body may succumb to the bacterial infection.”
Dammit.
“Let us take her to our ship,” Naraxthel said.
“No!” I said. “VELMA is doing the best she can.” Also, I knew I couldn’t move. All the tubes and fluids were keeping me alive.
“The traveler should stay with her technology,” BoKama said. “Our healing bays are not familiar with her physiology.”
Red’s shoulders sagged a little.
I cleared my throat and closed my eyes against another wave of nausea. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I, alone, spied your little ship on Naraxthel’s initial sight-capture,” BoKama said. “Sadly, that particular section of sight-capture was erased, through no fault of my own.” She cocked her head. Then gave a toothy smile.
Ah. “Okay,” I said.
“Being the only Sister to have seen your ship and considering Naraxthel’s odd behavior on the Dais at the Lottery Draw, I came to a secret conclusion.”
I nodded and fought to keep my eyes open.
“Naraxthel had something to hide. And I had something to gain. Through mutually assured destruction, we exchanged vital information without fear of retaliation.”
“BoKama desires to overthrow the Queen,” Naraxthel said.
She put her hand up. “Not because I desire wealth and power.” She leaned closer to me. “My motives are purer. I want revenge. And I want to change the course of Theraxl history.”
My eyes grew round. I nodded.
“We will protect you at any cost,” Naraxthel said.
I grimaced when more pain creased me down the middle. Panting, I huffed out, “Why?”
“We do not wish to invoke the censure of the Goddesses,” BoKama said.
“But they don’t care about me,” I said. “How could they?”
Burning fire jolted from my chest down my left arm, and suddenly my jaw ached as if I’d been biting into Galvanite bolts.
I thought I heard BoKama say, “She dies.”
Yes, I thought. I do.
“I know you,” I said, looking at the Goddesses of Shegoshel. “You’re Naraxthel’s holy Goddesses.”
They smiled, brightness twinkling in their golden eyes and glinting off their long fangs.
“Welcome, Esra,” they said in unison and gestured at a table bowing under gold and purple metallic plates full of produce. Green globes with a glossy sheen, small yellow spheres with matte skins, and flat but thick purple leaves were stacked in small piles. There were red and orange berries covered with fuzz like peach skins or raspberries, and bowls filled with thick juices. The fragrances overwhelmed my nose with rich fruited scents, sweet sugary tangs that made my stomach growl, and a light aroma that refreshed me. “Please, take and eat.”
I stepped out of a thick veil of white curtains, glancing back at their hazy glow. The food enticed me. I stepped forward and chose a purple leaf and bit into it, liking its dense texture and the way the flavor traveled over my tongue, sweet at first, then umami at the end. I finished and reached for another before I realized the sisters weren’t eating. I felt my face redden and found a cushion to sit on.
They covered their smiles with graceful hands and watched me arrange the long white skirt around my crossed legs.
“Now that you are prepared to make your final quest, we wish to give you a token.” The Younger Sister cocked her head after she spoke, examining my every expression.
Final quest? The memory of my other existence was a rocky shale. One false step, and it tumbled into the scree. What was I doing before I came here?
“The token will aid you,” the Elder Sister said in her rich voice. “We desire our Theraxl people to heal. They cannot heal until the wound is lanced and the infection is bled out.”
I swallowed and creased my brow.
“Here is the token,” the Elder Sister said, holding it to the Younger Sister. Younger Sister took the small gleaming item and held it out to me, suspended over the overflowing cornucopia. I reached across and held my hand palm up, ready to receive the gift.
Younger Sister dropped it—a simple gray stone. It no longer gleamed, but appeared as ordinary as any river stone, granite tumbled in the water and smoothed to a flat round shape that fit snug in my hand.
“Now go. You have prepared for this your whole life. Do not fear,” the Younger Sister said, her voice thickening with emotion. “Triumph.” She pointed a claw at the filmy gauze veils behind me.
I stood and gripped the stone in my hand, feeling its weight in my chest, rather than in my palm. I frowned
when I entered the curtains, knowing I was going to forget everything all over again. I clutched to the memory and stepped through.
44
“She dies,” BoKama said after taking a deep breath through her nose. She stood at Esra’s side, her head bowed as she observed the stillness of Esra’s chest. “Why do I feel an affection for this being? Could she have been a spy?”
“No,” I growled and stumbled forward. “Esra,” I said. I would put my hand on her, but the robotic arm whirred into position, blocking me. I backed off.
Esra’s technology spoke over several blaring alarms. “Initiating sinoatrial electrolyte displacement protocol.”
I did not understand the words. “What does this mean?”
“The bacteria attacking Esra’s system created an inflammation response in her heart tissue, resulting in myocarditis and tachycardia,” VELMA said. “The SEDP will re-establish her heartbeat.”
I understood nothing save Esra’s heart was damaged. I recalled my own heart’s eagerness to leave its chamber whenever I was in Esra’s vicinity. My heart knew where it belonged. Esra could have it.
“Why do your medicines not work?” I asked VELMA.
“The bacteria are mutating. I need another local source from which to manufacture a bacteriophage.”
“The Waters of Shegoshel aren’t enough?” I said. I looked around the sterile ship, as if to find something. My eyes fell on a vial resting in a compartment near a clear box. It appeared to contain the mild glowing water from a cave pool. “What of the water from the cave pool?”
“Accessing sample.”
I watched as a needle penetrated the lid to the vial, and siphoned liquid into a tube. The strange figures on the monitor changed rapidly, but I had no concept of their meaning.
I felt Kama’s hand grasp my bicep.
“The Goddesses brought her to you,” she said. “They will save her.”
I made fists. My strength was useless to help her. My anger, my bravery in the face of death: my gifts were useless to this strange soft traveler. “The Goddesses know nothing.”
