another , I thought to myself. As close as Joan and I were, we never had prophetic dreams or crazy intuition about each other. Raxthezana had practically moved mountains to get to me and steal me away from the Ikma; he’d saved my life and nurtured me back to health from torture so heinous I couldn’t even name it, and even now … in the bowels of a planet in crisis … he tried to protect me.
Because that was what I suspected he was doing as he kept his distance.
We had just disclosed some amazing, bordering on supernatural circumstances, and instead of allowing that to bring us closer, he closed himself off.
Shaking my head, I clambered across loose shale, careful where I stepped. A glance behind me showed Raxthezana studying the path I took.
I’d let him off the hook this time, but he didn’t get to choose how I felt about him, or how far our “friendship” was allowed to go. He didn’t get to halt it just because he thought he knew what was best for me. I laughed at the irony.
Sharp zings of pain radiated just under my armor across my entire body, and I shuddered. This was going to take a lot of getting used to. But damn if I didn’t feel stronger and more powerful by the hour.
Mama used to talk about the vagaries of life. How one day could be sunny and perfect, and the next full of thunderstorms and hail. How things could collapse one right after the other, and then a windfall could turn your life around. The trick, she used to say, was to take each event as if it were a package delivered to your door. You open it, you realize you didn’t order it but it’s here now, so you make the best of it. And when the wonderful packages arrived, and they would, you hold them to your heart and exclaim how much you love them. She used to say that by the end of your life, you wouldn’t be able to remember all the bad, or even most of the good. The truly horrible and the truly wonderful would be all that remained, and at that point you could set them on the scale, and the wonderful would always weigh the most.
My mother was an astronaut and a diplomat, and her intelligence combined with compassion had created the most magnificent woman I ever knew. Her simple way of teaching me had distilled many life lessons into my soul, but for a long time, I disagreed with her. When the years went by and she never returned, I knew her loss far outweighed any chance at happiness I might have. But at least I got to know her for my first ten years.
VELMA’s route tracked up a cliff face; the robot had bolted anchors and dropped line again, so I strapped and hooked in. As a miner for IGMC, I was used to climbing. It was a necessary chore in order to get to the real work. But I found it effortless now. The armor was deceptively light, and the joints worked with enhanced function, allowing me to expend less effort yet maximize my performance. I’d reached the top of the cliff face in less time than it took for me to remove my helmet, take a drink, replace my canister’s lid and don my helmet again.
Raxthezana joined me at the top and he checked the robot’s energy status.
“I’m trying to decide whether or not we should conserve its energy for our return,” he said.
Folding my arms, I looked at the machine. It had been invaluable for preparing climbs and cutting our time. It also carried fifty percent of our supplies. But, like our helmets, it required sunlight to charge.
“I could carry more weight,” I offered.
“As could I,” he said. “But it has been crucial to have the path prepared in advance.”
“If I may interrupt,” VELMA said in our helmets. “I am able to streamline the robot’s internal processes for maximum efficiency. I will tell you when you should leave it to conserve its return trip capacity.”
Looking over at Raxthezana, I caught him looking at me, or at least, his helmet pointed towards me. “Raxthezana?”
“My apologies,” he said but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he found the next leg of our journey and proceeded, the robot standing and waiting for me to follow him before falling in line behind. It often circled us, taking divergent paths when it was able, only to find and prepare the next stage before we arrived.
Playing with the sight-capture choices, I chose the low-light setting and nearly gasped. The bead lights were placed along specific paths leaving the rest of the caverns in shadows. Now I could see the depth of the caves as well as stalactite and stalagmite formations, hidden tunnels, shining threads of meandering streams only as wide as my finger, glistening walls where gems, ore, or water caught the light, and darting creatures escaping into bolt holes.
“What are those fast, four-legged animals with pointy noses?” I said, hoping he would know what I was talking about.
“Ah, you have seen the laveltkal,” he said. I thought I heard him smile. “Blind but fast, they proliferate throughout the caves. They eat water suns in the cave pools, as well as insects or fallen prey. The females birth huge litters.”
“Do the agothe-faxl eat them?” I asked.
“Ik, when larger prey is not found,” he said.
“What larger prey besides … us?” I said.
He exhaled loud enough his mic picked it up.
“There are cave dwellers deeper within the mountains,” he said. I watched him navigate a series of rocks in the path with practiced ease and made note of where he placed his feet. “Shy but dangerous, the ikadaxl have voracious appetites. They keep the agothe-faxl population in check.”
“Fire—flyers?” I asked, checking my translation.
“Ik. Their bellies glow when hungry,” he said.
Swallowing, I scanned the area, but it was empty of life for now.
“What is the animal on your helmet?” I asked.
“The woatheka,” he said. “Would you like to know why I chose it?”
“Yes, if you’re comfortable telling me about it.”
“All of my tales belong to you, now,” he said, his voice lowering. I made a fist and took a deep breath. He had no idea what he could do to me with a simple sentence.
“New hunters will sometimes have a mentor for their first hunt. But my sire accompanied me for mine. It was a rare circumstance among Theraxl. Perhaps he feared I would bring shame to our lineage; I don’t know.”
Reeling from his first statement, I said nothing and tried to process what he was saying.
“My sire insisted I follow his commands with exactness,” he said. “Even if I didn’t understand the reason for his instructions. I found him to be a demanding taskmaster, and I bristled. Unlike many of my brothers, I was born with an inquisitive mind, always searching for the reasons and the curiosities behind all things.”
He looked back at me, and I nodded, showing I was listening, even as I scaled the small hill of rubble.
“The dawn of the second day of my first hunt, we crouched in the brush by the Gathering Lake, watching the grass-eaters graze their fill of the meadow and then drink at the water’s edge.
“I was taken by their large numbers and significant size,” he said. “You traversed the forest south of the fortress’s grain fields. You’ve seen how the game on Ikshe is small and inconsequential. I’d seen many hunts on sight-capture—none in real life.
“Now these creatures were within arms’ reach. Father told me to watch the shore while he waited for the rokhural to arrive, but I thought it was a child’s errand. I heard the rumble of the rokhural pack and watched in awe as they tore into their prey.”
Raxthezana was silent for a minute while he navigated into a narrow crack in the rock that passed for a tunnel.
“The next thing I knew, my sire was roaring at me to mind the shore. I turned to see the mammoth woatheka had breached the shore and stolen a grass-eater a mere veltik from us. Throwing me to the ground, my sire fought the beast’s mate arriving on its tail. Its glancing teeth scraped my father’s arms, but he slew it. The scent of woatheka’s blood drew the rokhural deeper into the fray, and we were forced to flee through the brush. In spite of my error, my sire taught me the ways of the hunt until we had a sizeable offering to bring to Ikshe.
“I chose my helmet as a reminder to heed the wisdom of others, and for gratitude to my sire.”
I squeezed between the cave walls and came out the other side to see Raxthezana standing beside a boulder with his arms crossed.
“My sire perished in a quest for the Holy Waters and woaiquovelt not fifteen revolutions ago,” he said. “He was one of the strongest hunters I’ve ever known, and I disbelieved his death. But after speaking with much older hunters, I learned of the dangers of these quests.”
“From what I know of the Ikma, I’m not surprised she sent you,” I said.
“Of a truth, has she ever been ruthless and ill-tempered,” he said. “But her erratic madness escalated these last many revolutions until I feared for my people. The BoKama was a welcome Sister-Queen who balanced the Ikma’s fury. I had hoped you would meet her, but VELMA tells me she shifted her alliance back to the Ikma after I found you.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked, inspecting the anchors set in another wall.
“The BoKama led a careful dance with her Queen,” he said. “We can scent strong emotions in each other. Lies, fear, anxiety, anger and hatred are not disguised or mistaken. Doubtless, the BoKama severed our alliance for ours and her own protection, that the Queen would not discover her treachery.”
“I noticed the Queen’s failing health,” I said. “It’s been getting worse since my capture.”
“I believe her health has been in a decline for some time now, beginning with her madness,” he said. “The healers have been tasked to craft countless potions with little success.”
Grunting, I didn’t reply. My decision to release the escape pods resulted in five humans landing in the middle of a political quagmire. We were fifteen minutes out from joining the others, and anxiety was a tight tangle in my gut.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I said, ignoring it. “He sounds like a formidable person.”
Raxthezana laughed, and it soothed me a little.
“That he was,” he said. “Why do you think the Ikma sent him? He told her he disliked the raxfathe practice to her face. And the next day, what do you know but the coffers were in need of more Holy Waters.”
“What will you do?” I said. “When you and your brothers return to Ikshe with your spoils?”
“We hope to depose the Ikma and install the BoKama in her place as Elder-Sister-Queen. The BoKama may choose her next Sister-Queen, and we will return to our normal lives.”
I noticed a flatness to his voice, but I didn’t say anything about it.
We climbed the wall and followed a narrow path into a tunnel so black that Raxthezana’s bead light cast scant light.
Lost in our thoughts, the rest of our hike was silent until we heard the echoes of conversation and laughter.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself to see the others. And accept the blame.