Rion
Rion wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d dozed off, but the air was cooler when she awoke and the night was alive with nocturnal song. There was no moon she could see—only a few stars peeked through the hazy, purple-hued night. And none that she recognized, unfortunately. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and then stretched her arms over her head.
Ow, that hurts.
The soreness in her muscles was excruciating.
The dreams had come again, strange as usual, muddled, and their origin still in question; they felt too real, too different.
The rustle of leaves in the high branches above her made her freeze. The sound didn’t come again, but it did spur her to get up and start hunting for a better place to shelter. She moved away from the ledge and slid down the bank to a flat area. The terrain was a maze of giant branches and roots and vines, some creating arches and stumps and overhead canopies draped in hairy vines and tipped in spikes, while others twisted around rocks and snaked along the hard ground.
There wasn’t much in the way of actual flora, a few feathery red-leafed bushes that clung to the rocks, the occasional shoot of a baby tree branch tipped in long leaves, and strange glowing plant and oval seed pods, nestled into the natural splits and rotted-out holes of roots and tree trunks. A flurry of insects gathered around each one, drawn in by the light. She could sympathize. The lavender bioluminescence was a welcome aspect, along with the green glow emitting from what appeared to be patches of moss growing on the bark of trees.
The rocks were her best bet at finding shelter—limestone, most likely, given all the fractures and ravines and hollowed-out pockmarks, caves, and passageways. There had to be some kind of erosion process, and hopefully that meant rain, and where there was rain, there were places it collected; she just needed to find those places before dehydration set in.
When the worries started to weasel their way inside, Rion recounted her experience and skill set, the number of strange environments and tight spots she’d gotten out of. For over a decade, she’d hunted wrecks and ruins in some of the galaxy’s most inhospitable places. Every vest and utility belt on her ship held the essentials—standard in her line of work and enough to get a person through until help arrived.
And help would arrive.
It wasn’t long before she found a niche through the massive roots of an enormous tree that led into a small cave. As she settled on the floor to rest, she broke open a concentrate energy strip and methodically chewed the tasteless emergency ration. There was no hum of engines and life support to lull her to sleep—just the nocturnal chorus of eerie hoots and screams and gentle trilling calls, and the occasional shuffling of some ground creature.
Daylight couldn’t come soon enough.
She’d get as much rest as she could, then it was imperative to find water and switch her mind-set over to long-term-survival mode.
In the beginning, sleep came in spurts, her dreams scattered and broken, but at some point, she grew accustomed to the background noise and stopped jerking awake at the slightest sound.
When the voice woke her, she’d been in a deep, restful sleep. She sat up with a jolt, confused and disoriented.
“Over here.”
A voice as clear as day. Goose bumps crawled over her skin. Unmistakable. Alert now, Rion listened, staying still, wishing her pulse wouldn’t pound so loudly. Seconds turned to minutes, and she started to wonder if she was losing it.
“Over here.”
The rise of relief was so swift and consuming that tears rose thick in her throat. The voice was no figment of her imagination. And it was human. She wasn’t alone.
Slowly and as quietly as possible, she withdrew her M6—it never hurt to be prepared—and then eased through the cleft in the rock. She stayed by the exit, scanning the murky forest. Part of her wanted to run out and call back, I’m here! But another part remained cautious and she hesitated answering back.
Then she saw the light. A white orb bounced through the mist, coming from across one of the chasms. Someone was approaching, holding a light. Thank God. The light blinked off, then after two seconds appeared again. It had stopped bouncing. The on/off pattern repeated. A signal, no doubt about it.
“Hurry. Over here,” the voice called again in the same urgent tone.
Wide-awake now, she ducked from her spot and began making her way, noting the long, low branches she’d need to traverse to cross the narrow chasm. The twisted bark made climbing up roots and then tree trunk to branch easy. Soon she reached an ideal branch that stretched across the chasm and stabbed into the ground on the other side. Rion stowed her weapon and began to cross, ducking beneath a hanging vine and sidestepping a few spikes.
Over halfway across, the light reappeared again on the other side, then flickered off. That same voice again: “Over here.”
A sudden sense of dread stilled her passage.
No. This wasn’t right.
The words were on repeat, the same tone, the same inflection.… Fear worked its way up her spine.
A slight vibration flowed through the branch, coming from behind her. She realized too late the trap had been sprung. And she was the prey.
She saw the head first, gray and dome shaped, a helmet-like skull blending back into a fan of six horns. Its eyes, if it had any, were lost beneath the thick frontal ridge of its skull, which was set above a small, curved, bony arch, possibly protecting an inset nose. Directly beneath was a frowning mouth with a collection of sharp, angled teeth in the front and long rows of fangs along its jaws. Two short horns grew from each side of its upper jaw, and its chin jutted out into a sharp horn.
The creature climbed onto her branch with long, draping muscled limbs and curving talons.
She forced a swallow and glanced ahead. As expected, a similar creature with ridges along its humped back was making its way on all fours onto the branch across the chasm. Then it rose on two legs, a bipedal reptilian at least five meters tall. And Rion’s hope sank.
Unless she wanted to jump to certain death, they had trapped her in the one place she couldn’t escape.
“Hurry,” the one echoed behind her.
“Over here” issued from the massive reptile in front of her as the domed portion of its skull flashed light. Rion was momentarily struck with awe and horror. There was no moving mouth, which meant the creature projected sound, maybe from what she had first thought was the inset nose. Her thoughts went straight to the human bones she’d stumbled upon in the Forerunner site. Was it the victim’s words she heard, copied, mimicked perfectly? Had that poor soul been drawn in by light and human voices too?
Rion backed up. The top of her head brushed against the hanging vine above her, and the sudden shock nearly caused her to fall. But it also showed her a way off the branch. The light flashed across the chasm and a third creature emerged, this one even taller than the others. It lifted its head and let out a hair-raising moan, a resonating octave that echoed across the forest, the same one she’d heard inside the structure.
A split-second decision—either unload her weapon now or save her ammo for when she couldn’t run anymore. The choice was simple. Rion jumped up, using the vine to help her grab the branch above her. She dragged herself up as the creatures lumbered across the branch below. Once she was above them, they split, one heading toward the trunk of the tree branch and the other heading away. They were slow but smart enough to revise their game plan, almost instantly.
As she hightailed it across the branch, the creature below her had reached the trunk and began climbing with remarkable agility, its large curved claws perfectly suited for the task. Adrenaline surged. She needed options, and quick.
There. She picked up the pace, running as fast as she could along the branch and then launching off it, aiming for a lower branch about a meter out and three down. Three seconds in the air and then she hit hard. Bits of damp, musty bark sloughed off with the impact and made her nearly lose her footing. Scrambling up, she headed for the massive tree trunk ahead, her attention on a set of tree spikes jutting out from its side. Though it was a slight drop and a leap, she made it easily onto the first spike and then began the climb down. If she could just make the next horizontal branch, she’d have a quick run along its surface and then downward toward the ground. Once there, she’d make for the rocks and fit herself into a crevice they couldn’t reach.
Spike by spike, five in all. She made it down three, and when she hit the fourth, it cracked under her weight, spilling out a wave of panicked pea-size bugs. They scattered up her legs, arms, neck, and face. She fell screaming.
Several meters of weightlessness passed in sheer, breathless horror before she slammed into the hard ground below.
Bright explosions of pain blinded her as the air was forced from her lungs.
A dancing lantern appeared overhead. It blinked out as a large shadow fell over her. She felt around for her gun, found it, and—
A wet splatter hit her square in the face. A thin film spread into her eyes.
Rion pulled the M6 from its holster, despite the screaming pain in her elbow and wrist. Damned if she’d be spit on and eaten; that was not how she’d meet her end. Rage built quick and all-consuming, but it crashed against a mellow wave.
Her limbs grew heavy. No. Her eyelids fluttered closed. No!
She sank into darkness.
The next thing she knew, the world was upside-down.
Her body continually bumped against bark, the blood pooling in her head, making it split in pain. Drowsy, it took her several seconds to understand her predicament.
She was being towed up a tree by her ankle, then gathered up and shoved awkwardly, sideways, into a rotted-out hole in the trunk. In a moment of stark realization, she knew… the tree was the pantry and she was the food stuffed inside for later.
Her muscles didn’t work; she couldn’t move or fight or scream. The drowsiness continued to press in, slow and sure, darkening the edges of her vision. Still, she fought with everything she had to cling to consciousness. She had to get out. She always found a way out. Goddammit. This wasn’t how it ended.…
Images of her crew flashed in her mind, and pain shot through her heart. She wasn’t ready to leave them. And then, her mother’s resentful face and Cayce’s sweet smile. The hurt and regret was unbearable. She’d never know them now, never return to Sonata, thus proving her mother right and disappointing the hope she’d seen in her brother’s eyes. Spark too came into her wavering mind’s eye, at first a warm feeling of affection, but wiped clean by betrayal. If he hadn’t let her go, she wouldn’t be in this mess!
Frustration and fear and anger came together, filling her eyes with tears. But no matter how hard she tried, the darkness crept in until she couldn’t fight it any longer.