muttered to myself, casting glances at my colleagues. The ladies had climate control flight suits, but I thought I saw a sheen of perspiration on Esra’s forehead through her helmet. My armor must have climate control, too, or I would have noticed the temperature earlier. That meant it was just really, really hot. But it was the lava fields, so of course it was.
Being a miner for IGMC meant you were on track to see incredible places, especially with a bent toward interesting geology. And yet I’d never seen a place like this.
An underground region so vast, cave walls weren’t visible, and the light from active lava flows reflected from sparkling minerals in the ceiling resembled an alien night sky. It looked for all the world like a mountain range. Under mountains. Periodically, large shadows glided across the “sky” obscuring the “stars”, and I wasn’t the only human gaping at the sight of modern-day dragons patrolling the area.
The fields were rocky black terrain, previous lava flows that had cooled and hardened into snaky narrow hills that made traveling awkward and slow. Every ten meters or so the bumpy field was bisected by the orange-red glow of sluggish lava.
“Quicksand,” Esra’s voice hit my helmet with a shock.
“Check,” Pattee said.
“Dinosaurs,” Esra continued.
“Check,” Amity said.
“Bugs out of your nightmares,” Joan said.
“Check,” Amity replied, and I thought I understood where they were going with this strange non-sequitur conversation.
“The floor is lava?” I asked, and they all burst into laughter.
“Don’t even lie and say you don’t love this, Esra,” Amity said.
“You got me,” Esra confessed.
Raxthezana chose a path across the stone rivulets, and we picked our way behind him, watchful for some hardened shapes that concealed a thin crust. Natheka had broken one to show us the flowing lava beneath it.
After a good two hours, the fields smoothed out into a black, glassy surface with sharp ridged lines tracking across it, like an immense sheered block of obsidian. On its farthest edge, a wide lava river flowed at about five knots, and Raxthezana broke trail to approach it while the other hunters stayed behind.
“CeCe,” Raxthezana called to me, and I followed him.
Staring at the glowing molten rock, I’d forgotten why we were standing here until Raxthezana handed me the Blade of the Ancients.
Its faint purple glow stood out in contrast to the orange heat behind it.
“Our blades of woaiquovelt are indestructible save for the lava flows here in this tunnel,” he said.
“Or I could keep it and use it to kill her,” I said, my voice emotionless.
“Ik,” he said.
Breathing deep of my own recycled armor air, I imagined ending the Ikma’s life, watching her tormented soul leave her ferocious eyes.
I tossed the dagger into the lava. In my imagination. And it seemed like my opportunity for revenge melted away with it.
“I want you to know I don’t doubt my ability to kill her if I have to,” I said to Raxthezana’s calm silence. “But this weapon has seen enough violence; its molecules are stained with blood and pain. It exceeded its usefulness a long time ago. I should drop it in.” But I stared at it in my hands, and something prevented me. We were coming back this way. I’d destroy it then. Or maybe I would sink it in the Ikma Scabmal Kama’s throat, right where she cut me for the first time. Sheathing it in a special place in my armor, I shook my head. I didn’t know what I was doing.
“I thought I would need to convince you to keep it,” Raxthezana said. “But I see your wisdom. Should need be, you may take the Ikma’s life with your bare hands. Perhaps it is better served returning to the place of its birth.”
“I don’t know what is right, here,” I said. “But something tells me I may need it.”
We rejoined the others where they carried on conversation about volcanoes, but I was lost to my thoughts.
The memories of my torture blurred with the dark edges of my fear of and hatred for the Queen, but I’d never spent long periods of time hating. I’d learned action served me better.
But the pain. And I’d seen into her eyes when she inflicted it.
There was no doubt in my mind she deserved death—if only because every other soul around her deserved life, but I wasn’t sure if it was my place to be her executioner. She had enemies among her own people, crimes against Theraxl she needed to pay. I wasn’t the first person she’d tortured to within an inch of their life.
A thought struck me.
I could make sure I was her last.
My boots slipped on the rock, and Raxthezana caught my elbow.
“I have you,” he said.
“Thank you,” I replied but couldn’t shake the image of her cruel eyes from my memory. Raxthezana’s big hand closed around my clenched fist.
“I have learned the painful memories forge one’s spirit into a two-edged blade,” he said. “One side is honed for compassion and empathy. The other is sharpened into fierce anger and grief. We carry the blade the rest of our lives, and whatever edge requires sharpening will receive the attention it deserves.”
“That makes it sound very—pragmatic—I guess is the word I’m thinking of,” I said. “I mean, there’s no judgment or expectation.”
“Why would there be?” he said, thoughtful. “Our emotions are much like the weather on Ikthe. We can do very little to effect change. It comes and goes, shifts from extremes to calm, and we can but endure it.”
“I like that,” I said, mulling it over. “Maybe instead of fighting the memories and the terrible feelings that accompany them, I can try to weather them out and give myself grace for whichever side of the blade needs my attention.”
“Ik,” he said and squeezed my fingers where they interlocked with his. “I have confidence that you will wield your blade with poise and skill.”
Huffing a laugh, I shook my head. “I’m going to need a lot of practice before that happens.”
“As do we all, my ikthekama raxthel,” he whispered. “As do we all.”
Our handclasp broke apart as we steadied ourselves on the glassy ground, but we caught up with the others where Naraxthel had taken the lead.
“We approach the vein,” he said.
Sweat trickling between my shoulder blades, I peered at the spaces between my colleagues as they meandered up a slope and into another tunnel. Glimmers sparked and dimmed around their silhouettes, and then I entered the next chamber.
My breath caught at the sight of black rock walls encrusted with pale violet lumps that seemed to glow with an inner light.
Last through the entrance, I could see my friends’ expressions as they studied the huge bank of woaiquovelt as well as those of the hunters when they removed their helmets.
The hunters approached the wall and touched the violet rocks with reverent fingers.
“Many have died in its pursuit,” Raxthezana said. “My father among them. An old hunter told me he found his bones and laid them to rest in the river.”
I knew he referred to the river of lava, and it was appropriate, I thought, that these powerful and relentless men should find their last resting place where the planet itself experienced a rebirth.
Naraxthel dug his claws into the rock around one lump and prised it out with ease, holding the material in his glove where Esra and Pattee could inspect it. The rest of us gathered around and Raxkarax explained some of the refining process of the ore that resulted in their unbreakable swords.
“Some is infused into iktheka armor as well,” he said.
“Only woaiquovelt can pierce woaiquovelt,” Hivelt said.
“Ik,” Raxthezana said. “The medical devices on our ships contain woaiquovelt as well. “It is sometimes necessary in working with wounded ikthekal.”
“How much do we need?” the ever-practical Pattee asked.
“Any amount would satisfy a rational Sister-Queen,” Hivelt answered. “But current circumstances demand unequivocal abundance.”
“I agree,” Raxkarax said. “The Queens and the populace must be rendered speechless.”
“Pardon our ignorance,” Joan said. “But it seems like packing out what our rucksacks can hold isn’t very much. We’re used to massive mining operations complete with hover carts, conveyer belts, elevated mining shafts and robotic demolitions and excavators.”
“Ik, we have such operations on Ikshe,” Naraxthel said. “Mining the common ores and gravels for construction purposes and the like. The nature of woaiquovelt is such that a little can be used in a number of weapons and other materials. It is uncommon that more than one hunter would emerge from the mountain with his pack half-full of these rocks.”
“Five of us and the Tech-Slaves with sufficient supply will sustain our honor and pay any debt to the Ikma without question,” Natheka said.
“We can carry some, too,” Amity volunteered.
“We would not ask it of our mates,” Raxthezana said with a glance at me. “It is not necessary, though we may require your assistance in leaving the undermountain passageways.”
Tilting my head, I thought there might be things unsaid regarding our egress from the mountains. I wanted to ask about the robots, but then we heard a methodical tramping from outside the entrance to this dark chamber.
The robot had cleared the collapse and made it!
“Gathering is not difficult,” Naraxthel said, though we’d already figured that out. “Do you humans reorder your rucksacks that we may give you our foodstuffs to carry. We will fill our packs with woaiquovelt and load up the Tech-Slave.”
“We can carry a few rocks,” Esra said, amusement sparkling in her eyes.
“Heart mate,” Naraxthel touched her hand. “We will need you light on your feet to battle the predators that block our exit.”
When I darted a look at Raxthezana, his somber nod gave me chills. What were they not saying? We’d already learned of the fire flyers and the agothe-faxl. They’d warned us about crevasses, hidden lava flows and other dangers.
The women and I gathered and dumped our packs in the middle of our huddle where we squatted to organize everything.
“Girls’ channel?” Amity said.
“Hooya,” Pattee replied to our chuckles.
“Anyone else getting the heebie-jeebies about the next part of our hike?” I said.
“Yes,” their voices blended into one resounding affirmation.
“Damn,” I said. “They don’t strike me as the kind of men who withhold information to “protect” the womenfolk, though.”
“In general, they don’t. I would say.” That from Esra.
“You have to ask the right question, though,” Amity said. “I definitely had the impression Natheka didn’t want to tell me about the giant night beetles.”
“Same with Raxkarax and the za-ronaxl bugs,” Joan said, and I heard the quiver in her voice.
“Oh honey,” Amity whispered and wrapped her arm around her.
“Joan?” I asked.
“CeCe, it was a fuckin’ nightmare,” Joan said after clearing her throat. “I’m still processing it in therapy.”
“I hear that,” I said.
“Oh shit,” Joan said.
“Don’t go there,” Pattee said, concern tender in her gray eyes as she reached for Joan. “Remember? We’re not comparing traumas here.”
Joan nodded and reached for my hand.
“I didn’t even think that,” I whispered.
“I know,” Joan said. “The girls have to remind me. I’ll be using the therapy program until the end of time.”
“Same, girl, same,” Amity said, and we chuckled.
“Hey, random question, Amity,” I blurted. “Raxthezana said I should ask you about ice cream?”
Amity gestured at the pile where we’d dumped all of our silver food pouches, furs, bedding, tools, and assorted and sundry items from our packs so we could add whatever the hunters wanted while they made room in their own for the woaiquovelt.
“I’m not going to question your neural pathway connecting therapy with ice cream,” Amity said to me with a wink. “But it’s our new medium of exchange. I may or may not have created the ice cream economy when I emptied my EEP the day I hiked out.”
“Was this before Raxthezana introduced the white-bark tree leaves tea—that tastes like coffee?” I asked.
“Ooooh, good point,” Amity said and the rest of us laughed.
“So, I saw what happened to your ship,” I told her. “And yours was destroyed?” I asked Esra who nodded.
“Mine’s still where I landed,” Pattee said. “But I don’t know how many more landquakes it can take. We already had to stand it upright twice.”
“And mine sunk to the bottom of a bog,” Joan said with a decided pout. “I could only take what I could swim out with and keep my fingers crossed that the acidity wouldn’t ruin anything.”
“Such a waste,” Amity said with the shake of her head. “All that ice cream.”
“The pods were incredible,” Esra said. “It was a serious blow to have mine taken out so early. At the time, though, it seemed symbolic. Cutting ties with humanity. Making Ikthe my permanent home.” Her voice trailed off and we all retreated into our own thoughts as we sorted supplies.
“Let’s say we manage to live through the political upheaval and the first rumblings of an excursion,” I said. “If you had the chance to go back to humanity, would you go?”
“No,” Pattee was the first to respond.
Esra, Amity and Joan all looked up at one another and then at me.
“No way” was joined by “Nuh uh” and “I don’t think so”, and I smiled.
“Looks like we’d better get used to Predator Planet coffee, then,” I said, and we joined our fists in a communal fist bump.