on all sides overwhelmed me; I had to get away from Raxthezana’s wise eyes. He seemed to know things about me I barely recognized in myself. The video of Esra’s First Contact was sweet and scary and funny, and I found myself catching my breath.
To think Esra and my other colleagues had these experiences while I was … The eternity I’d spent inside the fortress walls at the hands of the Ikma was another lifetime. Another Cecelia. I tried to find the earlier version of me. The one who stood up to the IGMC co-directors and the one who sabotaged an entire fleet of IGMC ships.
Other than the burst of adrenalin that got me and Raxthezana out of the fortress, I had the emotional wherewithal of a dishrag.
My skin itched under my armor. When it wasn’t itching, it hurt. Images of the barbed tendrils sent me into full-body shudders until I calmed myself with oxygenated breathing. I clung to the memory of my strength and agility when we escaped the fortress and looked forward to pushing this armor—and my “new” body—to their limits. It was the only thing keeping me sane.
But watching the video brought home the irrevocable permanence of the decisions I made in that other lifetime and the consequences felt by others. Not just the handful of women in this corner of space, but for all of the men and women who’d entered their escape pods in full faith that they would be protected.
While VELMA assured me my programs would have executed exactly as they did for Joan and the others, I couldn’t help but fear for my shipmates and colleagues. What had I consigned them to?
“Excuse me, ADVISOR,” VELMA’s calm voice intruded my thoughts.
“Yes?”
“I couldn’t help but notice significant depletion of serotonin and dopamine suggesting a state of depression,” she said. “Would you like to open my therapy program?”
Stunned, I paused my spiraling train of thought. I’d done this. I’d written a neural network that factored hundreds of body systems and applied pragmatic orders of operations to help the human deal with whatever circumstances they found themselves in. In fact, Joan’s grief and clinical depression had inspired me to include the coding.
“Sure,” I answered VELMA. “I’ll try it.”
An hour later, I had insights to chew on and homework to do, and Raxthezana had announced I needed to strap in for landing.
My stomach rolled at the deep dive Raxthezana maneuvered into, and I watched the approaching landscape with interest.
“Warning,” VELMA’s voice sounded in the cabin. “Landing coordinates compromised by unstable ground conditions. Alternative site recommended.”
Raxthezana cursed and banked, and the forbidding black mountain range reminiscent of a wolf silhouette disappeared behind gathering clouds.
“We’ll try the maar,” he said, and the patchwork ground below raced away beneath us as we sped along tree-covered foothills and jungle canopies. Areas of the planet appeared tossed and stirred like from a giant mixer, devastation from storms or quakes, I wasn’t sure.
Once more, black mountains loomed before us, and I recognized the wolf silhouette in the distance. Raxthezana manipulated the pilot controls with deft fingers, and we landed on a wide stretch of black sand, the dark water to our left rippling away in waves from the engine thrusters. I saw a splash and a long tentacle disappear into the water.
“If we stay out of the water, she’ll leave us alone,” Raxthezana said of the creature in an offhanded manner.
I nodded and swallowed, then followed him to his armory wall and saw my sidearm placed next to his assortment of blades.
“I found it with your things,” Raxthezana said. “VELMA explained its use.”
Hesitating, I finally grabbed it and pressed the Surface-Adaptor button so it would adhere to my thigh armor.
“Thanks,” I croaked out, remembering the moment when the Ikma Scabmal Kama found me. Dehydrated and fatigued, by the time I realized I was in danger, it was too late for me to use the gun, and the entire time the Ikma tortured me, it sat useless just a meter away but within view—mocking me.
“When we leave my ship, we enter Ikthe’s realm,” he said. “You cannot have too many weapons.” He was sheathing a massive sword as he spoke. “I understand your reluctance to touch the Blade of the Ancients. One of the undermountain passageways follows a river of molten rock. But it is your right to do with as you choose. When the Scabmal Kama dropped her blade, she relinquished its possession.”
Staring at the wall of impressive metal, the only blade I saw was the one in my mind, the memory of the wicked curving tip, so thin one couldn’t feel it slice the skin at first. It wasn’t until she drove it deeper, where the blade thickened, and tiny barbs had been meticulously crafted into the steel and woaiquovelt that the pain registered.
“Do you wish me to carry it for you?” he asked, his voice so soft I almost missed it.
“Please,” I said, swallowing my tears and handing him the “Blade of the Ancients.” Once he stowed it, I exhaled, cracked my neck, and chose a small dagger from the wall. A spot in my armor lit up, and I saw the blade had been designed to slide into a forearm piece: accessible without breaking up the streamlined function of the armor. Fascinated, I found a sword on the smaller side of the spectrum, and once again, a blinking light indicated its placement.
Kitted out, I turned to see Raxthezana facing me, though his expression was obscured by his shark helmet. My helmet hid my expression as well, or he would have seen the fleeting moment that naked yearning crossed my features. I couldn’t explain the infatuation. I was a grown-ass woman with a crush on someone I barely knew, and I couldn’t explain it away with science. It had only gotten worse from that first scant minute I saw him on the screen in the market courtyard, and then when his was the first face I saw upon waking from my nightmare. I was never telling him these things. Never. Because I was logical and rational, and these feelings made no sense.
“Ready?” I asked.
He handed me a rucksack and then donned his, and I saw how its seamless form adhered to his back. Pulling what looked like a large shoulder plate from a storage compartment below the weapons, he glanced at me. “A replacement piece for one of my hunter-brothers,” he explained. “Now we are ready,” he said. “VELMA, access my robot. Comms will be difficult under the mountains, but we may use the robot’s adapted communication grid to further your reach from the nanosatellites.”
“Complying,” she said, and I was startled to see movement out of the corner of my eye. A massive mechanical biped rose to standing from its sleek resting spot just inside the ship’s hatchway, and I took a step back in spite of myself.
The robot’s articulated arms and legs bent in all the expected places, but it only boasted a visor to suggest “vision” and no other facial features. A cursory study of its limbs showed pneumatic mechanisms or hydraulics, some sort of machining that suggested it had super strength and agility.
“Our robots are useful for helping us clean, dress and store our kills and on occasional long forays into the wilderness,” he said. “I suspect it will be of some use on our quest.”
For a second, I wondered at the wisdom of putting an AI in control of an ambulatory machine, but I knew my neural network inside and out. She would use it as an extension of her code and nothing more; I had no doubt.
Raxthezana walked down the ramp, and I followed. As soon as I stepped foot on the black sand, VELMA spoke in my ear.
“The presence of a global airborne cyanobacteria renders Ikthe’s atmosphere inhospitable to humans and requires an adapted vaccination,” she said. “Joan is in possession of it. I suggest you attempt to join the others with haste. I am still studying the effects of the forced symbiosis between your body and the shel. Until I know more, it is best to assume that you still need the inoculation or antidote, in the event that your body succumbs to the infection before you reach the others.”
Only three of my footprints marred the beach by the time VELMA finished her explanation. I’d stopped walking, overwhelmed by the information.
Making a fist, I tried to calm my racing thoughts.
Transatmospheric scans were supposed to catch things like this, weren’t they? What if the other escape pods landed in similarly deadly circumstances? Was I any better than IGMC?
“CeCe?” Raxthezana’s quiet voice pierced my panic.
“Sorry,” I said and resumed walking, taking in the still dark water to my left and the rocky black slopes sweeping upward to my right. The ridge was uniform except for one spot where it looked like a giant had taken a bite out of it. Raxthezana chose that place to crest the ridge, and I followed.
Clearing the ledge, I gasped at the wreckage of an EEP X215.
“Amity survived,” Raxthezana said. “Under quite dire circumstances, I might add. Your technology was instrumental in guiding her to safety and through several pitfalls of this planet. And of course, Natheka her heart mate, helped when he could.”
We passed the crumpled metal, and I couldn’t resist the compulsion to study it closer. It appeared the hull on one side suffered the brunt of the crash with a sizable gaping hole revealing the damaged interior. Piles of supplies rested both inside and outside the jagged opening, and I realized Amity must have chosen her provisions with care. She’d left a lot behind.
“VELMA, why didn’t Amity bring more stuff with her?” I asked.
“Amity was injured in the crash and had limited strength,” she answered. She followed up with a short video of a Latina recovering inside a different intact pod. “I’m happy to report she fully recovered.” Smiling at the news, I studied the piles.
An inflatable raft caught my eye, as well as a few other items that might prove useful on an “underground quest”, so I pulled them out of the pile, focusing on every bit of climbing gear I could find. Raxthezana joined me, and between us we were able to carry several more pounds of gear. VELMA assured me it was safe to crawl inside, so I tapped several cubbies in search of water pouches and Meals Ready to Eat.
“That’s strange,” I said.
“What?” Raxthezana asked from behind me, though his voice traveled through the speaker in my helmet.
“I thought all the EEPs were outfitted with ice cream but there’s none here. Plenty of scrambled eggs and tuna and crackers, though.”
His rumbled grunt flooded my helmet and unbeknownst to him, threatened to give me goosebumps. Who knew I had a thing for grumpy aliens?
“You may wish to ask Amity about the oversight,” he said.
Cocking my head, I realized I was finally on the same planet as my “assigned” group. Just as I had done with the others on the mothership, I’d organized my own social group consisting of a known friendship between Amity and Pattee, and my own friendship with Joan. It’d taken months of eavesdropping and casual conversations to develop a close-as-possible match with the pods and friend or coworker groups. It was my hope that survival chances would increase if the EEP occupants knew and liked each other.
Stuffing handfuls of MRE, climbing gear and ropes into my rucksack, I backed out of the opening, noting the sharp, curled and blackened metal edges and the trail of dried blood.
Bile leaked into my mouth, and I swallowed with a grimace.
One of my homework assignments was to compile a list of triggers so that my “therapist” and I could identify specific work I needed to do to function without breaking down. I could add blood right next to the Blade of the Ancients.
I reattached my rucksack and removed my helmet. Cyanobacteria be damned, I needed to rinse the taste of bile out of my mouth.
Raxthezana watched me without comment, and I replaced my helmet.
“Lead on,” I said, injecting false cheer into my statement.
Instead of marching forward, Raxthezana turned to face me and took off his helmet.
“I have no place to judge or counsel you,” he said. If it weren’t for his unexpectedly tender expression, I would have rolled my eyes at the big BUT I heard coming. “As such, you have no need to hide your true feelings. Do not pretend happiness where sadness lies, and do not force joy when you would feel grief. Joy cannot fit into the shape that grief carved out. Let grief repose in the place it created for itself.”
Gobsmacked, I said nothing. After blinking a few times, I shook my head. “How did you know?”
“I saw you pause and trace Amity’s bloodstain with your finger,” he said. “I can imagine the horrors the Scabmal Kama inflicted upon you. The fact you remain standing awes and frightens me.”
Scoffing, I flung off my helmet so he could see my face.
“How could I possibly frighten you?” I hated the tears that sprung unbidden. “Your people are gigantic! Ferocious. Fanged and clawed and governed by the Rule of Blood and the Justice of Death,” I said, my voice wavering in its intensity and my heart thudding painfully in my chest. “Any one of you could have snapped Esra like a match, and when the hunter commented on her braids, I realized your laws were as arbitrary as the weather.” Tears flowing freely, I strode to Raxthezana until we stood a foot apart. I craned my neck to look up at him. “Do you know what the Kama said to me before she made her first cut?”
Raxthezana’s scowl deepened, and he knelt so we could see eye to eye.
Taken aback, I exhaled and looked away for a second.
“Tell me,“ he said, his voice thicker and deeper than usual. When I looked at his face, his skin had darkened around his eyes and mouth. Light caught his broken fang.
“You’re not permitted to breathe my air,” I said and touched the scar at my throat.
Raxthezana nodded, unsmiling. “It is the beginning of the ritual. I will not coddle you and pretend that my race is not bloodthirsty nor powerful.” He placed his hands so lightly upon my shoulders that I couldn’t feel them. “You honor me when you share your torment.” Dropping his hands, he caressed my jaw with a finger before I pulled away. “I will never abuse your trust.”
His black and red eyes peered into mine before he stood.
“We depart.”
Breaths shallow and heartbeat thready like a bird’s, I took a minute to wipe my face with my gloves. I hadn’t intended to tell anyone any part of my torture. It was my failure and my greatest shame, violations so profound that, like Raxthezana, I didn’t know how I could stand either. But here I was, on the same planet as Joan, a walking-talking survivor and proof of the indomitable spirit of humankind. Except I felt filthy, like the blood she spilled would never wash off. And if I spent any time trying to imagine how I looked when Raxthezana found me, I knew I would retch and run and hide. So, I didn’t imagine that, and decided to focus on putting one boot in front of the other.