“Abri?” Sam said, enunciating the word in such a way Abri could read her lips.
Abri tossed up her hands in a questioning gesture. She hated speaking—she could barely hear the sound of her voice and it was so odd wondering if she was yelling or softly talking.
“Dinner.”
Abri sighed with her shoulders. They rose and fell dramatically. Sam cocked her head cheekily making Abri smile. Then Abri was hauled to her feet, almost flying into Sam’s hard chest. The pair were a contrast. Abri was four years younger than Sam. Sam was six feet at least, broad, muscular. Sam’s raven black hair had grown in longer over the year they had become stranded on the strange planet and almost touched her shoulders. Abri was a strawberry blond. Her long hair flowed in thick waves down her back. She was at least seven inches shorter than Sam, with a thin build. Sam was blue-eyed. Abri had been told on more than one occasion by men that her eyes sparkled like emeralds. Both women were also tanned and healthy.
Sam set Abri away from her and smiled, she mimicked eating fish. At least that was the closest description of what they ate that came to mind. The creatures in the water were a flashing silver color. Where you found one you found dozens. They would leap into the air simultaneously, creating a streak so shiny it was blinding when reflected off the planet’s two suns. It was a good thing the fish creatures were as dumb as they were curious. The odd creatures didn’t hide from the humans, they appeared to enjoy watching them—even though it meant a few perished each time. The six women on the planet only needed to reach out and whack a stick into the air, felling many of the foot long, beady eyed creatures.
Abri and Sam walked silently back to camp. They were greeted by the four others who were sitting on various soft rocks. When Abri settled herself onto a rock, her ass sank in a comfortable way; it felt like sitting on firm foam. The idea of a soft rock was still baffling to Abri. Everything on the planet was virtually soft. The trees were soft on the outside, covered in a creamy, coffee-colored, velvet-smooth bark. They stretched higher to the heavens than any tree Abri had ever seen in her life and sported massive leaves as tall as her. If not for the harder under bark, their branches would have been useless in aiding the women in capturing the fish-creatures.
No fire burned, the fish was eaten raw. Everything they ate was raw. For a while, they had tried to start a fire and, though they had wood, nothing was flammable. It rained often; torrential downpours sent them frequently scurrying for safety. Shelter could be found under thick bushes. The stones they found were too soft to strike and make a spark. Sticks—which were few and far between as the massive trees seemed loathe to give them up, couldn’t be twirled into smoky tinder. Nothing on the shuttle that had crash landed was helpful. Nothing of any kind had been packed that could start a fire. They had been warned it was too dangerous to the planet they had been heading to.
Abri could see the sense surrounding the warning. The planet they had landed on must be like the one they had been heading to, before they were thrown off course. There were no rocks to contain a fire—in fact, they would burn too. Everything surrounding them was lush and green. Oddly enough the word ‘tidy’ came to mind. An organized planet. As if forest nymphs or fairies cleaned any debris. The ground beneath their feet was foam-like and spongy. Shoes were a waste of time; there was nothing to injure their feet. The air was very warm. Not stifling and unbearably hot, just warm enough to cut pants at the knees or higher and rip shirt sleeves away. It remained the same temperature throughout the year. A lonely, tropical paradise.
Sam handed Abri a plate made from one of the shuttle panels that had blown free. It was charred, small and square but big enough to hold a fair sized raw fish and many fruit-like things that were edible. Abri was used to the fish, but the fare was boring. On Earth she had been so hungry once the multitude of storms had started to terrorize every corner of the world. Tsunamis had plagued the Pacific coastline before she left; earthquakes struck with unpredictability—she had seen that firsthand on the fateful day she lost her parents.
Volcanoes erupted; freezing cold had set in in some States, blistering heat in others. Areas dried from droughts, others were flooded. Rodents, vermin of all kinds multiplied as did bugs. The Earth was ravished, raped of its beauty and entirety. Abri wondered if anything was spared. Was there a home to go to if they ever got off this forlorn planet?
The food on Earth had been scarce and covered in soot or ash or dirt, all the while still costing a small fortune with prices spiking higher each day. While the Earth crumbled around Abri, she had grown thin, pale and weak until it came her turn for a shuttle ride to the planet Ulsy. Abri had never known she would ever again complain about eating decent food, but she grumbled now. What she wouldn’t give for a thick, medium-rare steak and potatoes—or French fries covered in gravy.
Abri was swirling her finger around her plate, playing absently with her food. Her hand was stilled by Sam. When Abri looked up she saw her friend’s gentle smile and realized she had been brooding again. Lately it seemed that was all Abri did. They had been trapped on this forlorn planet for a year now. Six women, no men or children. The cockpit of the craft had been crushed; there was no way to call for help. Abri had wondered if there was anyone to call regardless. There was no way to know how far off course they had been thrown.
Odd creatures roamed the planet. Nothing they had encountered appeared dangerous—yet. Foot-high butterflies in pastel colors were the prettiest things Abri had ever seen. They were curious bugs, and if you stood still they would land on you to rub their antennas across your forehead. There were freakish foot-high beings that followed the moon at night. They were creepy at first, but appeared harmless, if not curious. Their long talon fingers were like razors and their feet were claws. Their slim bodies were silvery and sleek. Human and being knew of the other’s existence, but both kept a respectful distance. Once the women were finished with their dinner, the remains would be put in a pile on the outskirts of the camp, and Abri knew the little creatures would devour the fare. Abri was happy at least something was grateful for their hard work.
“Eat,” Sam mouthed.
Frowning, Abri took a bite of the fish—same as ever, boring and uncooked, blah. It was like eating rubbery calamari. She felt it squeak between her teeth. She chewed with exaggeration and made a face at Sam. Sam just laughed. Before the shuttle ride and crash, Abri hadn’t met Sam. Nor had they bothered with each other on the shuttle. They had become fast friends after the crash when Abri had saved Sam’s life. Debris had fallen on Sam’s leg but she was also covered by larger debris. Abri was the only woman small enough to fit under the pile of twisted metal to reach Sam’s trapped leg and work it free with the aid of a fulcrum and lever.
It was apparent to Abri immediately why the other women were afraid to venture in and save Sam. Rubble teetered precariously; items were still falling. Abri couldn’t hear the squeal of twisted metal as it teetered. She couldn’t hear the shouts of the terrified women. Invincibility wasn’t the case—Abri just couldn’t take notice of the danger she placed herself in. It was not unlike the removal of spooky music played during a horror film. Circus music could have played—it didn’t matter to Abri when she had no perception of the sounds around her.
Sam had hobbled around for a month with Abri waiting on her; thankfully, her leg hadn’t been broken and healed well. Once Sam recovered, she had become overprotective of Abri. They incorporated their own hand signals to converse with one another. Sam insisted Abri reminded her of her baby sister. A sister who had died shortly before the world had come to its radical demise. Abri had never had a closer friend.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked Abri.
Sam shrugged her arms up and down in question and frowned as she said this. Abri felt like her life had been turned into a perpetual game of charades. She was about to answer when Abri caught movement and looked over at Tasha who dropped her plate on the ground and began waving her arms like the drama queen she was.
; “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Tasha yelled loud enough for Abri to make out her words. “She needs to get laid. We all do.”
Abri could feel her face flame. It started in her neck and crept up the sides of her cheeks, all the way to her forehead where the small hairs nearest her scalp itched. Brea, who was sitting to her far right, laughed, as did Sally at her far left. Tabby, also across from her, giggled behind her hand.
Sex was the last thing on Abri’s mind. There were only three men she ever thought of—the first being her father. Then there were two others whose faces haunted her. They had never been able to free the Captain and co-pilot. Their remains were still hopelessly crushed within the shuttle. When she thought about them, she felt sad. They had saved their lives after all, and Abri and the others couldn’t even offer them a decent burial.
Abri looked at Tasha a bit melancholy and shook her head no. She could see Sam watching her from the corner of her eye. Sam slung an arm across her shoulders. The warmth of Sam’s arm as it seeped into her skin was little comfort. Abri struggled with her emotions for a moment. Even after a year of almost virtual silence, it was still so hard to cope. Yes, it would be wonderful to faceplant into a strong man’s chest while he stroked her hair and soothed her. But what about the words she needed to hear? What about the words she wanted to say in return?
“Well, I want sex,” Tasha yelled, and howled with laughter.
Abri shrugged off Sam’s arm and took her plate of food—hardly touched—to the place where they fed the little moon followers. She scraped the contents onto the ground with her fingers. The fish-like things were soft, not scaly. Not unlike marshmallows. The heads and tails were left on—they had no knives to remove them. It always creeped Abri out to see the bulging black dead fish eyes stare vacantly at her while she ate it.
The food that was supposed to be aboard the shuttle had been dropped to aid in their escape. Along with any utensils and plates. A small bush on the planet grew jagged fern-like leaves. They were able to slit the belly of the fish open if they kept the jagged part clutched tight in their four fingers and thumb at the very edge, but the plant wasn’t strong enough to cut through bone.
The skin on the nape of Abri’s neck tingled. She moved around slowly, knowing she was being watched. Abri could see a tiny head poke out around a tree. It was the big male of the moon follower species, their leader. He was perhaps a foot and a half tall. Boldly he moved to stand beside the tree instead of hiding behind it. The creature had nothing to fear from Abri and he knew it. The long grass came to his waist. He offered her a direct stare in recognition.
Abri liked him, his regal stance; she liked his protectiveness towards his mate. He watched over his entire pack. There were fifteen in all. Young and old. It wasn’t the first time Abri wished she was a moon creature—wanted, loved and protected. The moon would be out soon and the leader would herd his pack to food and water. He would take care of them.
The creature’s eyes squinted. The moon beings could see better in the dark. The big male’s mate poked her head around at Abri as well. She could see a little one pressed up against its mother. She didn’t want to interfere with their dinner. Abri headed back to the lake to wash. Up in the sky, the two suns began to set. Soon enough, she would see millions of stars dancing across the heavens. A tuneless melody would play in her mind if she watched the stars long enough. A mind trick. She wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.
The water was tepid as it danced through her fingers. Abri spent a lot of time touching the water—the trees, everything. It was as though the entire planet was a living breathing entity. Or perhaps it was just Abri trying to hear through contact. In the distance, she could see the moon creatures picking through her offering. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Abri thought her sight had improved over the last year. Or perhaps her concentration was more thoughtful.
A small gust of wind fluttered her hair to tickle her cheeks. It made Abri smile—something she rarely did anymore. A school of the silver fish came curiously close to the water’s surface and then just as quickly vanished together. They only flew into the air when the suns were at their peak. Abri wondered if they did it to warm themselves or even regenerate their glowing silver physique.
Giving one last look to her surroundings, Abri went to the make-shift home they had built and strengthened throughout the year. It was made mostly of long, thick grass woven together to keep out rain. The mats were slung over a large bush that poofed up at the top like a massive umbrella, leaving a shelter beneath. The woven grass hung down the sides for walls. A few strategic rocks gave them a solid base to keep the mats from moving.
Oddly enough, no wind ever whipped about, even when it rained. There was the occasional light breeze. There was no thunder or lightning, not that she could hear thunder; Abri felt she might be able to make out the vibration if it occurred. Abri would stand sometimes as the rain poured down on her, feeling it, if not hearing it. In her mind, the sound could be whatever she wanted, anything to match her mood. From a tap, tap to a splash, splash. Tasting its coolness as the deluge floated across her tongue. If it rained during the day, the suns still shone brightly. The planet was a contrast to Earth in that it was a bundle of energy. It appeared to Abri that this planet’s Mother Nature was even-tempered and calm, whereas Earth’s was given a bad dose of PMS times ten thousand.
As Abri settled herself onto her mat, the others began piling in. With the flap open, an orbiting planet, not unlike Earth’s moon, shined brightly enough for her to see everyone. Try as she might, Abri had not mastered the art of lip reading beyond one or two words. Longer sentences were too complex. It was a source of amusement at times, frustrating more often than not.
Tasha was mouthing words at her. Abri scratched her head when she thought Tasha asked her if she wanted something to do with bacon. Tasha was such a bundle of energy all the time. Everything she did was fast—including talking. Abri couldn’t help the blank stare she gave her. Frustrated, Tasha moved her with a shove and sat the rock behind her more firmly over the mat beside Abri.
Once more Abri settled back. She had grown used to the shoving and pushing and hand tugging to get her in motion when words didn’t work. She realized she wasn’t the only one to grow frustrated with her loss of hearing. The women were well-meaning. It was never done in anger. Tasha just wanted to make certain Abri’s sleeping area was secure. If it did rain, no one wanted the water seeping in. They made a point of caring for each other. There were no doctors. Since there were only six of them, the women wanted no more loss to make their lives that much drearier.
Abri sighed. Her hands crept up behind her head to cushion it. The grass wall beside her ruffled then settled. She could feel each soft blade of grass tickle her arms and legs. It wasn’t unpleasant. Abri searched for the feeling. The hut grew darker. It was not unlike the suns’ closing sleepy eyes. She could see the others talking, joking, smiling. Abri felt like an intruder. Even surrounded by people, she was alone.
Abri closed her eyes. Inside the darkness of her mind, for the first few seconds it reminded her of the wormhole and the nothingness. Except in here, Abri could hear her own words. She could turn on sound. She could hear her mother and father calling out that they loved her.
* * * *
“Do you really think there could be humans on this planet, Raiden? It’s been months since Earth has sent any shuttles.”
Raiden cast a fast glance at his male warrior mate. The sky was dark, but he could see perfectly. The green glow of a tattoo on Cace’s face was the only light to shine in their immediate vicinity. Covered in their ebony body armor, Raiden knew any humans wouldn’t see them coming. He thought it a strange peculiarity that humans couldn’t see in the dark.
“I don’t know, Cace. Our craft sensors did show a small vessel, so maybe.”
“I hope there are females,” Cace muttered.
Their small vessel cloaked on voice command and the two large beings began walking. The two males wer
e a match at six-foot-six. They were both powerfully muscled. Their body armor showed off bulging biceps and thick thighs. Raiden could sense his warrior mate was in deep concentration. They were highly tuned to each other’s emotions. Even though Raiden couldn’t see any facial expressions, he could smell Cace’s brooding thoughts.
“Well, if there are, we will need to plan how we introduce ourselves carefully. Cobra says they will be terrified of us. Poor little things. Human males have no body armor; the females aren’t used to seeing it. Strange—but I’m told there were many male humans who could protect their females at one time, at least on Earth. Although I’m uncertain as to how. I’m told we appear very scary to humans in our shields, even to human males.”
“Well, if there are human males, I’m leaving them here,” Cace grouched.
The idea startled Raiden. Which startled him further—he almost always knew what Cace was thinking. “Why?”
“Males outnumber the females on Dargon and Bagron by too much already.”
Raiden couldn’t argue with that. Although, there were very few human males as it was. The Tonans had killed most of them. The ones spared were only children. Raiden still couldn’t get his head around the idea of Cobra allowing a few of the Tonans to return to the Castian fold. Albeit, the ones who had were rendered harmless when they took human females as mates. It appeared human females were like a drug to a Tonan. Their emotions ran so deep even a filthy Tonan warrior couldn’t control empathy for their new mates and the others around them. They were rendered unable to lie or be deceitful. That must have pissed off many Tonans. Raiden didn’t care—he had yet to friend a Tonan and it was doubtful he ever would.
The traitor in their midst, who had poisoned the water and killed their females hundreds of years ago, had been caught and killed. Thanks to, ironically, a human female. There were still many more Tonans who remained renegades. Once Cobra had taken over the planet the humans named Ulsy, the remaining Tonans had fled. Raiden and Cace were on a mission to check out this small planet in a cluster of many. If they found renegades, they were not to engage in battle. Cobra, their leader, would return with a battleship.
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