I said, gesturing to the expanse of black rock under the open sky. It was a barren, fey place my brothers and I had once searched for Amity’s crashed pod with Esra and Pattee.
CeCe walked a few steps and turned, examining the huge area and then turned to face the mountain, the side of which appeared to have collapsed.
“It’s desolate,” she said, looking down and tapping a big rock with her boot.
“It compromises the electronics in our helmets,” I said. “VELMA reports the nanosatellites are unable to receive data from this region as well.”
“Fascinating,” she said. “VELMA, what are the coordinates of the Magnetic Burst Field?”
She tilted her head, listening.
“With this size of a magnetic signature,” she said. “I wonder if it could influence the geomagnetic poles. It could potentially affect excursions or who knows what.”
Cocking my head, I remembered Esra’s theories about the planet upheavals.
“There is more you should know about Ikthe,” I said. “The reason we had to land in a different spot than I’d planned was because of active landquakes. The planet has been beset by upheavals and disasters since Esra landed. My suspicious brethren thought to blame the goddesses, but I do not believe in such supernatural frivolities. It is but a coincidence.”
“But you said there has been an increase in what—quakes?” she asked.
“Landquakes, weather events, massive animal migrations,” I said. “Ikthe is unsettled. Ill. Some might say she is failing.”
“This sounds concerning,” she said. “Did Esra have a theory?”
“She suggested a geomagnetic excursion,” I said, trying to remember the model she’d shown us in Naraxthel’s ship. “Layers of the planet shifting under the surface.”
“Hmm,” CeCe said. “That could explain the quakes and animal migrations. Maybe even weather patterns.”
“My people grow hungry on Ikshe,” I said. “Usually, Ikthe is crawling with hunters tracking and killing prey. Ships deliver the meat to Ikshe every day where some is stored for the future, and the rest is butchered and distributed among the Theraxl. But since the Queen ordered the Quest, she closed the hunt. The sooner we return to Ikshe with our bounty, the sooner the hunt will reopen.” I wondered what effect my words would have on the woman. Her helmet obscured her features, so I was unable to read her expressions.
“Well, we had better move, then,” she said. Her voice sounded subdued, not angry nor resigned, and I took it as a sign she hid stronger emotions she didn’t wish to share.
We hiked out of the field and a zatik later found ourselves at the mouth of Agothe-fax tunnel.
“Nightwalkers?” CeCe said when I told her the name.
“VELMA will provide you with sight-captures,” I said, entering and saying “light” as I did so. “They roam the cave tunnels in search of prey. Venomous, hungry, aggressive,” I said. “They are the denizens of the undermountain passageways.”
CeCe was quiet for a few moments, and we walked the trail that led straight into the narrow tunnel, the bead light casting its glow against the walls.
“These are large predators. They look like giant spiders,” she finally said. She must have seen VELMA’s videos. “What is their typical prey?”
“This close to the surface, local populations rely on stragglers that enter the caves to escape storms or that seek water from the salt pools,” I said. “Deeper into the caves, mineral worms, crusted fish crabs, and large rodents make up their diet. Amid other things.”
A rotik later, she spoke again.
“VELMA doesn’t have footage of these,” she said.
“Ik, we seldom venture into the caves,” I said. “And the lighting is poor, rending most sight-captures less than useless. Your human fellows have not encountered the other beasts yet, else your technology would have a record. Do not fret,” I said. “We will come upon them soon enough, and you will have worthy battle with them. Then will we provide what VELMA lacks.”
“I wasn’t fretting,” she said, and I thought I heard the hint of a smile.
“You are adjusting to the armor,” I said, realizing I’d treated her as I would any iktheka initiate. We didn’t instruct the new hunters; we let them learn through trial and error. It was a mistake on my part, but I was unsure how to remedy it.
She blew out her breath.
“I don’t know why I haven’t been asking you questions,” she said. “You should have most of the answers.”
I waited to speak, sensing she wished to practice her thoughts before reciting them.
Another exhale.
Perhaps she sought courage; but I knew her to be exceedingly brave. Still, I waited.
“Why haven’t I had to urinate or defecate yet?”
“Ah, I am a poor mentor indeed,” I said. “I apologize. Your body combined with the shel will use most resources, even those once considered waste. Especially now as your injuries heal. Should you feel the urge, please tell me, and we can provide a place, but I shouldn’t expect it for some weeks.”
“Oh, that’s a relief. Also, every morning when I wake up, I want to run,” she said. “At full speed. I have an almost irresistible urge to jump or climb or swim ….”
“Your body is acclimating to the shel’s contribution to your systems,” I said. “I should have remembered that. We must take advantage of these urges, as they will be beneficial to your healing and to your bond with the shel. Over time, your shel will recognize how fast your body metabolizes its nutrients and will anticipate your needs during times of exertion.”
“I want to run now,” she said, her voice quiet. When I glanced to my side, she clenched her fists.
“Then we must run,” I said. VELMA mapped the route in our helmets, and I stood to the side. “Please,” I said and waved to the path before us. “Even if you encounter danger, it will be of great benefit to you.”
“Thank god,” she whispered and broke into a sprint. Surprised and delighted at her burst of speed, I broke into a lope of my own and followed, admiring the strength of her stride and her grace as she cleared obstacles with ease. I could tell she was no stranger to running; while the shel granted her increased speed and power, she ran with the finesse of a practiced runner.
“You’ve run before,” I said.
“Occasionally,” she replied. “It wasn’t my sport of choice. I preferred free diving.”
“What is that?”
“I explored deep under water without breathing apparatus,” she said. “Holding my breath, instead.”
Surprised, I didn’t respond at first. “How long could you hold your breath?”
“Ten minutes, thirty-seven seconds,” she said.
“But that can’t be,” I said, stunned.
“Ancient records suggest that early humans could hold their breath as long as fifteen minutes. Over time, people kept pushing their ability to longer and longer stretches.”
“To what end?” I asked, marveling at such a thing. Our suits provided breathable air when we dove underwater. But Theraxl seldom spent time under unless they were hunting the massive woatheka. In fact, my own helmet sported the animal.
“Hm, lots of reasons,” she said, her stride never breaking even as we traveled farther into the tunnel.
When light grew dim, I called out the word for light, activating a new bead.
“Interacting with marine life, exploring, research,” she said. “Some humans compete.”
“These are sensible reasons,” I said.
“They are,” she said. “But none of them are my reasons.”
I waited.
“My mind is often furious,” she said. “Busy with so many thoughts, and unless I’m medicated or hyperfocused on my work, I have a hard time making sense of them all. But when I free dive, the cold deep water surrounding me quiets the noise in my brain. I can settle. Being underwater is my favorite place.”
“This sounds peaceful,” I said, my mind scanning all the places on Ikthe where deep water was found. Perhaps CeCe would like to venture into one of the lakes.
“My orbiter landed in a huge body of water on Ikshe,” she said.
My stride faltered.
“Lake Wazakashe,” I said, my heart stuttering.
“It was beautiful and still,” she said. “Are there no big fish there? I never saw any when I swam to shore.”
“You swam to shore?” I asked, stunned.
“It took me about seven hours,” she said. “Maybe VELMA can translate that time for you.”
“Do you know what shore you landed on?” I asked.
“It was the tiniest beach,” she said. “I found a path that led all the way to a field of grain, and the fortress stood like a sentinel on the other side of it.”
My mind roved over the shores with which I was familiar, but if she had come up near the grain fields and the fortress, and it had taken her two zatiks, then she would have been somewhere in the south-central part of the lake. I had already known she was of great courage, but her strength and stamina were enviable—and that was before I gave her the shel armor.
CeCe was a formidable human; perhaps I was unworthy of her. This bore further contemplation.
We ran for a zatik, until CeCe slowed to a stop at the narrow mouth of a dark tunnel.
“Thank you,” she said, her breaths indicating minimum effort. “I feel regulated, now.”
“Good,” I said. “I will send a message to my brothers. If you desire, we may break bread, as well.”
“Sounds good,” she replied and folded herself into the sitting student’s pose, her ankles crossed as she sat.
Mirroring her sit, I touched my comms in my helmet.
“Hail, my brothers,” I said, not waiting for a reply. “We are in Agothe-Fax Tunnel. How fare you?”
Static rumbled for a jotik.
“Hail Raxthezana,” Naraxthel said. “We have survived a landquake and a roving band of male agothe-faxl. And you?”
“There is much to share by the fire,” I said, looking at CeCe’s serene face as she drank from her water canister, then disassembled her human weapon and cleaned its separate components. “But we are both in good health.”
“Praise the …,” Naraxthel said but cut himself off. “We are eager to be reunited. May the Life of Shegoshel shine upon us and our offspring.”
“And may the death of our enemies bring peaceful slumber.” I closed the invocation and frowned to think of Naraxthel halting his praise of the Goddesses. I realized he considered my beliefs and refrained from uttering mention of the Goddesses, though Shegoshel referred to Them as well as to our suns. It was an unexpected kindness based upon my complaints from before my foray onto Ikshe. I still considered the goddesses to be but figments, but throughout my time on Ikshe, others’ beliefs of Them penetrated my mind with frequent precision. It gave me pause.
As I pulled a loaf of sister-bread from my pack, I tilted my head to listen at the dark tunnel. Had I heard the skittering of agothe-faxl legs? Stillness pervaded, and I tore my bread, offering some to CeCe.
She stared at the offering before taking it and lifting it to her nose.
“My father used to bake bread,” she said. “He told me as much as humans had evolved with technology, there was great value in learning old skills. That crafting, building or cooking taught patience, dedication, and appreciation.”
Savoring my bite, I nodded and swallowed.
“Your father was wise,” I said.
“Yes. Wise and lonely,” she said, sparing me a short glance.
I raised a brow.
“When I was ten, my mother left the planet as part of an envoy to increase peaceful relations with the Qhudret,” she said. “She never returned.”
“The Qhudret were not peaceful?” I suggested, curious.
“Their government insisted the entire envoy went missing,” she said. “That they lost their own members as well.”
“What did you do?” I asked, sensing a deep pain in the woman across from me.
“Prayed for three years that she would come back,” she said. “And then I acted out. Sneaking onto private property. Hacking into computer systems. Just a general disregard for civilization and its rules.”
“You were trying to find your mother,” I said, a knowing settling into my heart when I looked into her dark eyes. “You snuck into government places and government systems.”
“How did you know?” she asked, tears brimming in her eyes until she dashed them away with a hand.
“Your character is such that it will not give up easily, nor run and hide,” I said.
“I kept getting closer and closer to the truth,” she said. “The last time I snuck onto the nearby space military base, I dropped the ID tag I’d stolen when I ran between two buildings. The ID tags are encoded, so they emit an alarm if they’re not activated by the point of use. I was caught ten minutes later and admitted to a facility for troubled youth.”
I rumbled in commiseration and waited for her to continue.
“My father was so upset and disappointed,” she said. She ate a few bites, contemplation heavy in her expression. “They gave me leniency, though. With my computer skills and a mother lost to an intergalactic tragedy, they gave me the option to complete an exclusive computer training program on the very base where I’d sneaked in repeatedly. It ended up opening doors to my education and IGMC employment.”
She stared at her boots.
“But your mother?” I prompted.
“Part of the deal was that I had to stop looking into it,” she said.
I sat back, frowning.
“In a way, that was all the answer I needed,” she finally said, meeting my gaze with a sad smile. “It was a backward way for them to say they knew exactly what happened, but they didn’t want anyone else to know.”
“Places of power make decisions without consideration for individuals,” I said.
“Mm,” she said and nodded. “People do it, too.” She avoided my gaze, then, and I wondered if she was thinking of her armor and the irrevocable decision I’d made on her behalf.
“Like me,” she said and clasped her gloved hands. Her direct gaze met my eyes, and I was startled. “I held a position of power because I had knowledge. I knew what IGMC was planning, and I knew it would endanger a lot of people.” She held my gaze, and I nodded, waiting for her to go on. “I made a decision without any of the miners’ input or permission. A decision that would permanently alter the course of their lives.”
“But ultimately save them,” I said, a gentle reminder. “Yours were the actions of a compassionate soul. Not someone desiring to exploit others.”
The crease between her brows faded, and I watched in awe as she stared at me and smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “Thank you. For saving me, but also for your insight.”
Nodding, I swallowed and averted my gaze.
I would preserve her life at every opportunity because I wanted to know this woman—this stubborn, willful, powerful woman. She had secrets I would plumb. But who was I?
Hardening my heart, I frowned and avoided her eyes as I packed my things. My yearnings were misplaced, and I had better remember that.