by Lili Zander
May pats Sofia on the back with her good arm.
“The rest of us,” I continue, “can do one of two things. We can get back into the pods and wait to be rescued, or we can try to find food and water on this planet.”
Harper’s lips twist into a grimace. “We can’t all go back into the pods, Vi,” she points out quietly. “They can only be shut from the outside. One of us will need to be awake.”
I wanted adventure? Well, here it is. Bright, shiny, and scary as hell.
Ryanna shakes her head. “No way,” she says flatly. “Before anyone gets any stupid ideas, we’re not going to leave one of us out here alone, while the rest of us crawl into the safety of the pods. And Viola, don’t even think about volunteering.”
I close my mouth, and she continues. “We put the injured in stasis, and the four of us,” she points to Harper, Sofia, and me, “all go find food and water. Okay?”
“I’m not badly hurt,” May protests. “I want to come with you.”
Sofia shakes her head immediately. “No,” she says firmly. “We have no idea what kind of terrain we’re going to run into. We don’t know if the planet has any predators. Your forearm is broken. We won’t be able to protect you.”
Predators. Crap. Never thought about that, and it’s not a cheery thought.
“There’s something else.” I try to remember Beirax’s words before he crashed the ship, but the pounding in my head increases. “I overheard the Zorahn talk. I think they exiled some people to this planet. Beirax called them the Draekon. He seemed to think they would still be alive.”
Ryanna chews on her lip nervously. “So out there,” she says, waving at the giant hole in the ceiling, “there might be criminals running around.” She exhales slowly. “Will they help us or hurt us?”
I don’t know. We have more questions than answers. “We can’t do anything until the morning,” I say firmly. “Let’s get the wounded into the stasis pods, and get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be an eventful day.”
It’s a lot easier said than done to move the injured into the stasis pods. Beirax is built like a truck. It takes all four of us—Harper, Ryanna, Sofia, and me—to move him. By the time we’re done, sweat pours off our faces, and Beirax’s dripping bright blue blood everywhere. “I don’t know what to do,” Sofia whispers, her face pinched with tension as she looks at the injured Zorahn. “I swore an oath…”
“You said it yourself. He’s not human.” My voice comes out too harsh in the quiet, and I soften my tone before I continue. “You don’t know anything about his injuries. You can’t do anything for him.”
“I know.” She’s silent for a long time, then she closes her eyes and whispers a prayer. “Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén.”
Unable to translate, my earpiece says solemnly.
I don’t need the translator to understand the prayer. My college roommate at the University of Wisconsin was Latina and devoutly Catholic. This prayer is etched in my pathways of my brain.
Holy Mary, mother of God,
Pray for us sinners,
Now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.
It takes us a few hours in the morning to set out.
First, we drag the mattresses from the unused stasis pods and try to cover up the gaping hole in the ship. Then we figure out how the stasis pods operate by punching every button in sight and using May as our test subject.
Before we leave, we ransack the ship for anything useful. I find a bag and stuff three spare translators inside. Ryanna does the same. Sofia takes her medical bag, though I hope we don’t run into an occasion where we need to use it. I grab Beirax’s weapon from the cockpit as well, even though I have no idea how to use the horseshoe-shaped object.
I know that I’m on a different world, but it only sinks in when we step outside. We appear to have landed in the middle of an alien jungle. There’s a cluster of tall, green-and-black striped reeds to my right. Each reed is fifteen feet tall and ends in a glowing blue orb. Some kind of fruit, I wonder, and the botanist in me itches to explore further.
Harper’s staring at the sky, which is a pale crimson in color. Two moons loom on the horizon, one large and green, and the other smaller and blue, with rings around it. The only thing this planet has in common with Earth is the sun, which is bright and yellow, just like ours. She looks as overwhelmed as I feel. “Toto,” she says slowly, “we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”
The air is hot and humid. Last night, the spacesuit did a good job of wicking away moisture, but it was built for space, not a tropical alien planet. The humidity seems to have overloaded the nanothingies, and patches of the fabric are now damp.
I slowly turn in a full circle where I stand, trying to decide which way to go. We’re looking for food and water. I’m not sure if we want to find Beirax’s exiles or avoid them, but I prefer the latter.
One week. You just have to survive a week in this place.
“The mountain.” I point the direction of a tall pillar-like rock formation that juts out into the sky. “If we reach the top, we’ll be able to see for miles.”
No one has a better idea, so we set off in the direction of the big rock, which resembles a massive cock. On a different day, I’d have giggled about that. Today, we walk in silence in single file. I lead the way, clutching Beirax’s weapon with tight fingers, and Harper brings up the rear.
It’s hard going. We’re walking through a jungle. Pink tree trunks hem us in from every side. The forest floor is covered with a tight carpet of some kind of crunchy grass that breaks when we walk on it. Bushes with neon yellow leaves and bright purple thorns block our path, and we have to detour around them.
“This place looks like Candyland,” Harper says, reaching for one of the yellow leaves.
“Or Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory,” I say, grabbing her hand to stop her. “Try not to touch anything. We don’t know what’s poisonous.”
“Right. Good thinking. Thanks.” She puts a hand to her head. “The sun is making me woozy.”
“It’s hot as hell,” I agree. “But I’m thinking there has to be a lake or a river somewhere. I mean, look at all this vegetation.” I wave a hand at the lush forest. “Even alien plants need water to grow.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Harper says.
The women all look wilted and gloomy. This won’t do. We need to keep our spirits up. “If we don’t find a water source,” I tell them, “we can risk eating some of the vegetation, and try to get water that way.”
“Thanks, Vi,” Ryanna says, her face brightening. I hope I’m not spreading false cheer because one thing is crystal clear. If we can’t find a drinking source soon, we won’t survive.
We walk for three hours, growing thirstier and thirstier with each step we take. “Do you think any of these plants are edible?” Ryanna asks as we pass through a grove of giant trees with pink bark.
“Ask Viola, she’s the botanist,” Sofia puffs, a little out of breath.
“Yeah, on Earth.” I shake my head with a grin. “I’m afraid I didn’t take ‘Alien Flora 101’ in school.” Mainly because, up until six months ago, we thought that aliens didn’t exist.
“When we get back to Earth, you can teach it,” Ryanna says.
“Someone’s a positive thinker,” Harper snickers.
“I just don’t want to waste energy on dwelling on all the stuff that can go wrong,” Ryanna snaps back.
“Okay, enough. No fighting,” I announce, thinking of my dad and what he would say in this situation. “We need to have each other’s backs. Together, we can survive.”
Harper golf claps. “Ladies, I give you Viola Lewis,” she says. “Interplanetary motivational speaker.” She smiles to counteract the sarcasm.
“Whatever,” I tell Harper. We have enough problems; we don’t need to bicker. “I think Ryanna’s right. We’re hurt, tired, and hungry, and we’ve crashed on an alien planet full
of exiled prisoners. What else can go wrong?”
Harper trips. Sofia gasps in alarm, but the blonde woman breaks her fall by grabbing the pink tree. Her hand lands dead center on an orange mold that’s growing on the bark.
I really wish I hadn’t tempted fate. “You all right?” I ask Harper.
She straightens. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get going. We’ve got to find water while there’s still daylight.”
Sofia’s looking at Harper’s hand with a fixed stare. “What’s that on your palm?” she asks.
The mold has left an orange goo on her skin. Harper swipes at it, growing frantic when the goo leaves angry-looking hives. “Damn it,” she swears, her face grimacing in pain. In about five minutes, she can’t move her arm. Her skin turns blue with alarming speed.
Sofia swears in Spanish and roots through her bag. “Epinephrine,” she mutters. “I know I have some in here.”
Harper drops to the ground, gasping for breath. “We need to put something under her,” I order Ryanna. “Don’t let the grass touch her bare skin. We don’t know if it is toxic.” Shit. Shit. Even if Sofia can stop the allergic reaction, Harper’s not going to be in any shape to walk. We’re three hours away from the ship. I don’t know what to do.
Sofia breaks the seal and stabs the needle in Harper’s thigh. I make a split-second decision. “I’m going to run ahead and look for water. Sofia, Ryanna, the two of you need to get Harper back to the ship. Put her in stasis. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Ryanna looks up, her black eyes shining with fear. “I can come with you.”
“No, Sofia can’t manage Harper on her own.” I press Beirax’s weapon into her hand. “I’ll be fine.”
Famous last words, Vi.
I continue for another hour, my heart pounding in my chest. The heat is sweltering, but I’m still grateful for the long sleeved space suit. After what happened to Harper, I can’t risk brushing my bare skin against the vegetation.
My head aches and my throat is parched. I’m sorely tempted to reach for the berries that hang from the yellow-leaved bushes, but I know how foolish that urge is.
I walk along, one foot in front of another, moving on autopilot. The mountain still looms in front of me, and it doesn’t appear any closer than it did four hours ago.
God, it’s hot as hell here. My suit is soaked with sweat, and my hair is a frizzy mess.
Good one, Vi. You’re on an alien prison planet without food, water, or shelter, and you’re thinking about the state of your hair. Like it will matter if an alien appears to eat you. You’re not going to charm him with your good looks today.
As I trudge past more trees with orange mold, I start composing my online dating profile. I like pina coladas and long trips through space. Oh, and as a scientist, I’m extremely interested in alien anatomy. Wink, wink, nod, nod.
A giggle cuts the humid air. I slap a hand over my mouth when I realize it came from me.
Great. Now you’re losing your mind.
I hear a noise—a soft buzzing sound—and pivot on my heels. A creature flies at me, and I scream in fright. It looks like an insect—some kind of red and yellow housefly—except it’s as big as a German Shepherd. Four antennas poke out from the top of its head, each ending in a ball that looks oddly like a strawberry.
“Shoo.” I wave my arms at it, trying to scare it away. All animals are scared of loud noises and sudden movement, right? I scream again, wishing I hadn’t given Ryanna Beirax’s weapon.
The dog-insect chirps at me, then it veers off to my right and plunges into the jungle. I’m about to continue on my way when I hear something miraculous.
The sound of running water.
“Good dog, Lassie.” Crashing through the brush, I follow the dog insect's trail, and twenty minutes later, I stand at the edge of an immensely wide purple-tinged river. Lassie’s twenty feet away, all four strawberry antennas immersed in the water as she drinks.
For all of three seconds, I hesitate, wondering if the water’s safe, and then I fling caution to the wind. If I can’t quench my thirst, my odds of survival are zero. I have no choice.
I cup some water in my hands and tip it down my throat. It’s cool and clear and ever-so-slightly sweet, and I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious in my life. I dip my hands into the river again, eager for more.
I’m so busy drinking that I don’t notice the three animals until they’re almost on me. They look like wild jackals, with golden and black striped fur, but they’re the size of ponies, and their mouths are filled with sharp, jagged teeth.
As I back up, they stand on their hind legs and hoot in unison. Their front claws extend, and they close in on me. I’m hemmed in between the lake and the predators. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape.
I’m going to die on the prison planet.
4
Nyx:
As soon as we hear the hoots of the Dwals, we begin to run. Of all the creatures we’ve encountered in this world, the Dwals are the most dangerous. They’re smart, vicious hunters. They hoot when they’ve found prey, and they will attack any moment now.
As I run, I think about Arax’s words yesterday. I shouldn’t have asked him about the Draekon mutation. The subject has to be a painful one for my friend. Once the Firstborn of Zoraht, he was in line to rule the Zorahn Empire, until the mutant gene was discovered in his body.
A thief on the streets of Vissa does not have much use for the Highborn of Zoraht, but Arax has earned my respect.
As much as I scoff at the notion that the Highborn are meant to rule, Arax is a born leader. It was Arax who kept us motivated in the initial months of despair. Arax who led search parties for food, for water, for any signs of habitation. It was Arax who made us cut down the Kunnr trees to create a compound wall, Arax who planned the annual migration to the high cliffs during the rainy season. Now, it’s Arax who runs to the object that crashed from the sky, hope powering his muscles.
Do I dare hope as well? If it is a spaceship that has crashed on the prison planet, perhaps it can be fixed. Perhaps we can finally escape from this long, lonely exile. I dream about civilization every night, of sinking into the softness of a woman’s embrace, smelling the perfume of her flesh, feeling her body tighten against mine as we move in an age-old dance.
We can’t return to Zoraht; I’m not a fool. Fear of the Draekon mutation runs too deep for us ever to be able to step foot on my homeworld. But there are other planets outside the control of the High Emperor, worlds in which we could live in the shadows, finding work as mercenary warriors.
Then I calculate the odds of the spaceship surviving the landing, and hope fades.
This part of the prison planet is not unfamiliar to me. While we typically hunt to the east of the Na’Lung cliffs, we’ve ventured west of the peaks before. The medicinal herbs that Vulrux needs for his potions can only be found in the dense jungle that packs the lowlands in this part of the world, and I’ve journeyed through the thick vegetation at least a dozen times.
“The Dwals attack on the banks of the river,” Arax says, as familiar with the terrain as I am.
We’re nearing the water now. I can hear the waves lap at the bank, and I reach for my twin knives, carved painstakingly from the thighbone of a Gawi. At my side, Arax does the same with grim determination. The Dwals are formidable predators, and this will be a harshly-fought battle.
We round a corner, and I see the creature that the Dwals have surrounded. It is small with dark hair. Its face is strangely unmarked, but its body is curved and lush.
It looks like a woman.
But it cannot be. That’s not possible. What on Vissa is a woman doing on the prison planet? The Draekon mutation has never been found in a female. Only men are susceptible.
My thoughts fragmented and confused, I drop to a knee and throw the knife in my right hand. It flies straight and true and lands with unerring accuracy into the chest of the dwal closest to the woman. Arax’s weapon follows a heartbe
at later, piercing it between the eyes. The creature howls in pain and falls to the ground.
The woman looks up for the first time, and her eyes fall on us.
When her gaze locks with mine, there’s an instant of quiet. The air grows heavier. The world comes to a standstill, and a voice inside my soul hums in satisfaction. Her, it seems to say. Our mate.
I barely have time to absorb that voice when an excruciating pain fills my body. Heat ripples down my back. I cry out as my skin rips open. My muscles lock, and I fall to my hands and knees.
Besides me, Arax does the same, his face contorting in agony.
My nails lengthen into claws. My skin changes, stretches, becomes hard and unyielding, a cross between scales and leather. I bellow, and the sound comes as a raw blast, my face twisting, jaw reshaping.
I rear up, and something slices open my back. Writhing in pain, I turn my head on a too-long neck to see spiky vertebrae form on my spine and wings erupt from my lower back. And I have a tail, long and leathery, with a barb at the end. It lashes to and fro.
The cloud of agony clears. The air around me is crisp and chill, but my body burns. I tower over the river, my head at the level of the tallest tree. The water at my feet reflects a huge, scaly body, long neck, and wedge-shaped head with ridges along the forehead.
I am no longer a man. Long ago, one of my father’s friends stole an ancient tapestry, and woven into it was an image of a creature, large and dangerous. I see that image now, reflected in the pool in front of me.
I’ve become a monster.
Yesssss. The creature inside me hisses. We are free.
The two remaining Dwals are frozen at the sight of the transformation, but when I rise on four feet, they are spurred to attack. They take a threatening step toward me, their claws fully extended, their jaws open in a snarl, hooting softly to each other.
At my side, a crimson dragon rears on its hind legs. Arax.
