Pattee and Hivelt’s glade, and we sat around the fire swapping tales of adventure and peril, feats of strength, and unexplainable events of wonder.
“I think she harnessed electromagnetic radiation to bleed off the FQB isotopes,” Esra was saying. “But we may never know.”
“Does anyone else think there couldn’t be a better steward for Ikthe than an AI who’s basically been studying everything about it for the last several months?” Joan said. “There’s even a T-sampler back in the Agothe-Fatheza. She can monitor the entire globe and, I don’t know, make minute adjustments to influence its vitality and growth for years to come.”
“I’m just glad she was able to stall the trajectory of the geomagnetic excursion,” Amity said. “I couldn’t handle the guilt knowing our race had inadvertently caused catastrophic damage.”
Wrapping my arms around CeCe who sat in front of me, I nuzzled her neck, and she sighed.
“It seems it did stall,” Pattee said. “Every time I check the geomagnetic scans, everything looks steady and normal.”
“As normal as a planet that boasts gigantic spider butterflies and walking lichen can be,” Amity added drily. She scratched Diablo’s head where he lay beside her, all but one of his eyes closed in pleasure.
“I don’t know,” CeCe said. “Normal might be overrated. Diablo thinks he’s a toy poodle and Hivelt’s new pet won’t stay away from the campsite.” She gestured behind us with her thumb.
Pattee looked near the creek where Hivelt was trying to lure the rokhura away with a spiny warted rock-climber with no success. “You’re right,” Pattee said. “It’s not normal to bring your little girl a snake with fangs and tail spikes and she proclaims you’re the best sire who ever existed.”
“She liked it, then?” Amity asked with a laugh.
“Apparently she asked to visit Ikthe sooner rather than later,” Pattee said with a smile.
“BoKama’s temporary title, Ancient Warrior-Sister, suggests the Theraxl may be open to a new era of she-hunters,” Naraxthel said. “With the vaccine able to inoculate our population, a generation of little sisters may choose to become ikthekamal and provide food for Ikshe.”
“Why is it a temporary title?” CeCe asked.
“Whilst under the Queen’s thumb, the BoKama concealed her Sister-Queen’s crimes,” I said. “The Enclave will review her actions and decide from there.”
“Sounds fair,” Joan said. “Hopefully Director Hackney is fired and imprisoned.”
“The Hostile Recovery Corps needs an overhaul, too,” Esra said. “Unless we took out their entire corps. Then I guess they need to start over.”
“Speaking of starting over,” Pattee said. “VELMA has perfect recall of events except for a two-minute window of time before the geomagnetic scans started to show a decline in major activity.”
“I think that coincides with the time the nanosatellite array went offline,” Esra said. “Readouts showed a massive power surge.”
“That makes sense,” CeCe said. “She had to siphon power from every resource she had available to pull off her strategy.”
“Simply incredible,” Joan said. “Esra, great call on the poop analogy. I have to think it worked.”
“Well, you know how we all play to our strengths,” she said. “VELMA’s forte is poop just like Amity’s forte is ice cream.”
“Hey!” Amity said with mock anger.
We laughed, but still chuckling, CeCe gently extracted herself from my embrace and stood with a stretch.
“That reminds me,” she said and shielded her eyes from a sinking second sun. “The supplies I requisitioned should be landing right about now.”
Jumping up, the humans followed her gaze and spied a large crate drifting to the ground with the aid of a parachute.
Gleeful shouts ensued, and they raced to greet the container where it landed with a thud at the northern edge of the glade.
“You are happy here,” I said, observing the mate of my heart as she stood tall and strong in her armor, a peaceful smile bringing a warm glow to her flawless skin, our helmets sitting aside in the absence of immediate danger.
“More content and happy than I ever imagined was possible,” she said, turning to face me where I’d risen to stand. “I have you, my friends, my health, my trusty party worms, and wait for it … .”
Cocking my head, I was unsure for what I waited until it happened.
A chorus of shouts rang across the glade, and it sounded like they said—
“I … scream?” I asked.
“You scream?” she said, cocking her head with a mischievous grin.
“We all scream?” Natheka said. “I’m confused.”
“Ahh,” I said with a hearty laugh. “Ice cream.”
Diablo’s head perked up, and then he stood with difficulty. He looked at my hunter brothers and mate, stretched and tossed his head, then broke into a lop-sided run toward the crate.
“Will he beg for it?” CeCe asked.
“Never,” I said, affronted. “The predators of Certain Death do not beg.”
CeCe pulled me down until she could whisper in my ear.
“I suppose there are some things a very desperate predator would beg for,” I murmured and seized her generous mouth in a hungry kiss. The delighted laughter and shouts of the others faded away as we lost ourselves in the wonder of unexpected love in the last place we would have thought to look—Predator Planet.
THE END