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Hunted on Predator Planet Page 2
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I stopped at an opening between the trunks and foliage of the shady and vast ikfal and observed my prey. Two giant beasts fought each other with vicious swipes of taloned limbs and lethal strikes of bladed teeth. Blood poured from the wound of one rokhura’s shoulder. I scanned the perimeter. A third rokhura, camouflaged in the ikfal, looked on the battle with interest. A female. She and the victor would feast on the flesh of the dead one, after which, a mating ritual would commence, destroying the surrounding area with its violence. Trees would snap like twigs; holes would open up in the ground; soil and roots would be slashed into great gouges. I pitied any creatures within fifty veltiks of this place.
I must hunt the victor. And its mate.
Songs would be sung in the Court of my valor and strength. The meat of three rokhura would feed many females on Ikshe, my neighboring home world.
Now my prey was within range, I disabled my stealth settings: it would be a fair battle. My heart thudded in its casing, and my four lungs expanded in preparation for battle. I saw the gaping wound on the rear leg of one of the males.
If I moved too soon, I would distract the group. The three would unite against a common foe, forgetting their lust to mate in favor of hunting and killing the interloper. Me. If I moved too late, the viciousness of the mating ritual could kill me as their combined strength and bloodlust would be formidable.
I snuck a path through the ikfal to the rear of the female. I would leap upon her back from behind, severing her throat with double blades at the same moment the alpha male would offer his death-strike to his victim.
That was the easy part.
I tracked the weaker male’s limp and estimated the moment the alpha male would go in for the jugular. Leaping with the help of my enhanced armor, I landed at the apex of the rokhura’s spine, using a blade to sink into the hard skin and scale up her spine like climbing a mountain. The air pulsed with her rumble of rage. I felt her entire body shake as her throat sac expanded with her roar. The victor was at that moment sinking its teeth into the neck of his opponent and didn’t respond to his prospective mate’s cry. With eager strength, I climbed the final steps to the female’s vocal sac and used a double stroke, crossing my blades to finish her off.
Now the victor released its prey with dripping maw and cocked its head in confusion as his mate fell to the earth. I obscured myself with her body as she fell, leaping aside at the last minute to avoid being crushed. When the victor came to sniff his mate, I would lunge at his head and blind him. Shortly after, I would sever his vocal sac.
I crouched in wait, the female’s flank hiding me from the rokhura. It approached tentatively, perhaps curious, but more likely cautious. The rokhura were the top predators on this planet for good reason.
I watched its nostrils flare at the musky scent of her blood saturating the ground. Soon his curiosity would shift to hunger, and he would devour her without regret. Except my knives would be embedded in his eye sockets in a few short tiks.
The sub-sonic roaring, even dampened by my ear protection, shook me to my bones. I gouged and dug, removing his eyes, then severed his throat with a final stroke from my raxtheza. I howled in victory, allowing the shower of black rokhura blood to drench my armor. I sent the sight-capture to my home world, where the Royal Court could watch my performance. The sight-captures did nothing to sway the outcome of the Lottery draw, but it would prove gruesome entertainment for the females.
Now to summon my mechanical Tech-Slave to help me secure the corpses to take back to Ikshe. The females would be fed for months with this kill. My chest swelled with pride. Once again, I, Naraxthel, had proven worthy to be called Iktheka Raxthe, the mighty hunter.
3
“VELMA, zoom in on the figure fighting with the reptiles.” I had been transfixed by the battle, while a third monster had been hiding in the shadows of the forest. From out of nowhere I saw the two-legged alien leap into the fray. Hope beat a tattoo in my chest. Another person within sight of my pod! I didn’t want to be alone on this planet.
VELMA’s camera zeroed in with surprising detail. I appreciated the EEP’s tech.
The humanoid figure wore a reddish metallic armor from head to toe. Its helmet was huge, giving the illusion of a monstrous beast. What did I know? Maybe the head was that big. I accessed the control panel within reach and toggled the camera around, finding the best possible view of the figure’s entire body. Massive arms and legs, huge torso, tapered waist. If I had to guess, that was a male.
I zoomed in on the hands. I was amused to see four fingers and a thumb on each hand, but the armored claws were less funny.
The armor plates were articulated where one might expect them to be. Elbows, wrists, knees, ankles. As a student of the Interplanetary Unification of Races College Academy, I had seen lots of videos of the most active alien races. The variety was astonishing and remarkable. But very few races had the same arm and leg configuration that humans did. I studied its helmet again. A dark rectangle delineated where eyes must be. A light-absorbing visor, perhaps? The nose and mouth shapes on the helmet resembled more of a snout. Scrolls and engravings on the helmet denoted art intended to frighten and dismay. Horns, eyes, teeth—all demonizing the helmet. With graceful but intimidating power, the figure dealt the death blows with efficiency.
I was top in my class back home. Salutatorian, star pole vaulter, most promising miner. And yet the sight of that armored figure taking down not one, but two, gigantic reptiles with a guttural howl—I gulped. It was the first vocalization I’d heard besides VELMA.
Taking classes about interplanetary exploration was one thing. Witnessing it with my own eyeballs?
Coming off the cryodrug, most sensation had returned to my upper torso. I had full range of motion in my neck and arms; I could even bend at the waist if I wasn’t harnessed in. But I had yet to feel my feet or legs and had no control of my lower digestive tract. I was grateful my nausea had prevented me from craving solid foods yet.
I watched out the porthole as a hovering land-crosser arrived and what looked like a robot stepped off to assist the armored creature butcher the beasts. Together, they made quick work removing pieces, but then took their time to wrap the heads with care.
“VELMA, disable the camouflage on the escape pod.”
“It is inadvisable you disable the camouflage at this time, Esra.”
“I want that armored man to see it! He can help us.”
“My scanners do not detect a human male in the vicinity of the pod.”
Frustration battled with hope. I opened my mouth to argue, but she continued.
“My seismic scanners detect a pack of large predatory creatures headed in this direction. High probability present they have smelled the blood of the fallen beasts.”
The hope and frustration leaked out of me like water from a sieve.
“Sensors indicate sinus tachycardia and fluctuating blood oxygen levels. Do you require assistance?”
“No, VELMA,” I said. “What do I do?”
If I was discovered by more of those beasts, I would become a very tasty toothpick. And while the, um, hunter, had taken down two with what looked like minimal effort, I seriously doubted his ability to take on an entire pack.
I watched on pins and needles as the two beings worked methodically to dismember the parts and contain them in a metallic-looking tarp. Did they know what was coming? Should I warn them? Where were they taking the meat? Maybe the hunter had a home here.
I debated. Alert the hunter to my presence? Or stay hidden?
“It is advised you remain calm. The camouflage effect on the pod will maintain moderate safety.”
Moderate safety. As opposed to my moderately safe Earth life? The old panic started to work its way up my throat, but I shut it down. That was light-years away.
I felt the tremors shudder through my small craft. I looked out the window at the two beings. The one covered in black blood stood at full height and looked in my direction. Could it see me? My heart
spiked.
“Please remain calm or I will initiate cryo-sleep once more.”
“I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth. “You can feel that, right? It feels like a freaking zoo is stampeding toward us.”
I watched the armored figure gesture to the ambulatory droid and then draw its weapon. The big weapon. The one that dispatched the huge beast’s head so easily.
“Oh my freaking geology,” I said. “He’s going to face the pack.” Maybe it was stupid, but I wanted that guy to know he wasn’t alone. “Disable the camouflage.” I hoped I didn’t regret this.
My heart stuttered at the sight of the lone figure, his knees slightly bent, his hands gripping menacing weapons, his entire posture evoking war and death. Was he even afraid? Because there was no way he was going to live through this. My throat was dry, and my eyes stung at the sight. I saw him raise his weapon high, and once again I heard his primal howl; it sent reverb across the meadow and amped up my adrenaline. I panted.
“Remain calm,” VELMA intoned.
I swallowed and watched, the rumbling growing more powerful in conjunction with the feeling returning to my lower extremities.
“How strong is this pod?”
“The Emergency Egress Pod was designed to withstand temperatures exceeding six thousand degrees Kelvin upon reentry into a planet’s atmosphere. Its internal structure was designed to contain zero to one atmospheric pressure, to prevent you from being crushed in space. You may have complete confidence in the EEP’s safety.”
Before I could debate the relevance of atmospheric pressure versus prehistoric pressure, the stampeding became deafening, and I was hermetically sealed inside something called an EEP for short. The view from my porthole became obscured by thundering feet and churned up greenery and soil. My last sighting of the tall being with bloody armor was of it facing the pack in a stance of complete aggression, sword high and an apparent field of electricity shimmering across its armor. What was that thing?
Then I felt the pod teeter—totter—and tip.
I couldn’t help the scream, slightly louder than an eep! My head jostled against my helmet, and I blacked out.
4
I sent the Tech-Slave to my ship with the racing speeder and watched as the pack of rokhura descended upon me. How odd they would migrate together this far from the rainy season. I opened my wrist panel and activated the lightning barrier and increased my armor’s tensile strength. Combat shields at full—I let the sight-capture record the moment I became the most powerful Iktheka Raxthe of the Theraxl race.
With a mighty howl, I raised my shegoshe raxtheza, and prepared for my final battle.
Ferocity flamed through my veins as I tore through the pack with my sun-blade. When they attacked in a fury, they were less crafty. I crippled four by removing their front legs, and then climbed the back of a maimed one in order to reach higher on the scaly bodies of the advancing predators. Slicing through their vocal sacs, I determined to make my people proud.
I lost count of the number that attacked me, and soon I was overwhelmed. Roaring my displeasure, I wielded my raxtheza like one possessed by an evil spirit.
I would die without offspring, no thanks to the suspicious Lottery, but my name would live on as an eternal legend. Naraxthel Roika, the Iktheka Raxthe, Death Bringer to the Gigantic Predator.
5
I awoke to VELMA’s voice. “Error. Error. Error.”
Silence for a few minutes, and then it would repeat.
I cursed under my breath. At last I could feel my feet inside my sturdy space footwear. I could also feel the restraints holding my legs and waist in place.
I blinked away the final webs of confusion and peered out the window. A green field split vertically down my window on the left, and an orange swath on the right. My pod was sideways.
I had no idea if VELMA was functioning or if she could right the EEP by herself, but it seemed like maybe not.
“VELMA, what is the status of the EEP?”
“Error. Error. Error.”
Oh schist. Now what?
I closed my eyes and tried to remember my emergency training protocols.
“Computer restart. Code one, white, red, green, yellow, five, three, sixteen.”
Silence.
Then a beep. “Rebooting. Please wait.”
I sagged against my restraints and let out a shaky laugh.
“VELMA, undo the restraints.”
“Please standby. Reboot in progress.”
I grumbled.
They released with a zipping noise into the walls of the pod. I held my hands out to catch myself against the wall-cum-floor. The inside of the pod was spacious considering it was designed for one person. I had room to maneuver even though it was tipped over. I was reluctant to open the hatch, preferring to wait for the computer’s update. I lay down and looked out the window, finding my bearings.
In the distance, I could see a heap of scale-covered bodies. Two dinosaur-like monsters tore at the flesh, one with entrails dangling from its jaws. My stomach lurched. I remembered the armored hunter and felt tears prick behind my eyes. Whatever it was, man or beast, some alien race the humans hadn’t catalogued yet, it must have died with glory. There was no way it could have survived that many monsters. I would never forget the fearless stance, the determination in the set of its shoulders and legs. It was magnificent to behold.
Until those beasts were gone, there was no way I was exiting. I took the time to inventory my rations and explore all the cubbies and panels. A beep sounded.
“Greetings, Esra Weaver. Congratulations on your safe landing. This planet is uncategorized in the Interplanetary Unification of Races, however, based on my readings, the atmosphere, gravity and bioavailable nutrients are compatible with human life.”
“So, your poop-scanner still works, huh?”
“The study of excrement reveals—”
“Reveals many things about living organisms, yeah thanks.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Apparently, VELMA’s short-term memory had a little hiccup. Or it had no imagination.
“VELMA, can you right the pod? It was tipped over by a pack of rampaging dinosaurs.” I called them dinosaurs for lack of a better word. With their scaled skin and sharp teeth and claws, it was the best I could do. However, they were unlike any renderings of dinosaurs I’d seen on Earth. With their flat-top heads and bulging throat pouches, they were alien.
“Due to the specific nature of the EEP, I do not have the capability of righting a fallen pod. However, the exterior was designed to be manipulated by a single human. Your vital signs are cleared for safe egress. However, it is inadvisable you leave the safety of the pod until hostiles have left the area. When you exit the craft, I suggest wearing your communication helmet as you make repairs to the EEP. Receiving instructions will be more efficacious.”
I looked out at the predators. They were slowing down, and their bellies were distended from gorging on all the meat. Maybe they would wander off. If they decided to stay and nap, then I was going to go bonkers cooped up in this pod for another twelve hours, or however long they slept.
Immediately, instructions for righting the pod scrolled down the inside of my clear visor.
I watched the instructional video a couple times. It looked like even an exo-geologist could do it.
“VELMA, can you communicate with any of the other pods and their occupants?”
“Negative, Esra Weaver. Running diagnostic scans. That information is unavailable.”
I smacked a matte-gray wall with my gloved hand. “We traveled light-years through space without a hitch and this thing gets knocked over once, and now we can’t talk to anybody?”
“My beacon activated upon entering this planet’s atmosphere, and I will notify you of any pings. It is possible that other pods landed on this planet, however, I have not received any pings. Storms, geological formations or large bodies of water may make communication difficult,” VELMA explained. “It is advi
sable when you egress to find high ground and place the auxiliary beacon. This planet’s mass is less than that of your home world. You will find it much easier to navigate.”
I paced the five steps inside the pod and back again. My mind raced, and my fists clenched.
“Sending instructions to your helmet visor for possible EEP repairs.”
I fumed. I should have tried talking to somebody when I first came to. I was trying to find my bearings and was distracted by all the sharp teeth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
As long as I stayed near the EEP, I would be safe until my rescue. Because I would be rescued. The Lucidity’s damage beacon would have been activated as soon as the pods were jettisoned. Someone in the Unification of Interplanetary Races would receive my signal and send help. They would.
The toothy beasts ambled away, half-heartedly chasing off some lesser animals that resembled Earth’s jackals. Other than the deep-purple fur and wide leathery tails. Okay, they had humped backs like jackals, but that was it.
I sipped water from the flexible straw inside my helmet. My suit had a small amount of stored water. After checking with VELMA it was safe, I disengaged the catheter with the press of a button on the side of my suit’s leg. Then I disconnected the opaque bag and placed it in the designated cubby. The EEP recycled everything. Fresh pee-water!
Assured nothing bigger than a squirrel was in the perimeter, I entered the exit sequence on one of the doors. The EEP was equipped with more than one way to egress. Smart rocket scientists.
I needed to reorient the EEP, and apparently, I needed to go climb a mountain to place a beacon as well.
With the instructions playing on repeat in my visor, I found the exterior handles and rotational grips. A series of robotic arms and levers maneuvered until the pod stood upright on four stabilizer legs.
I stood back and admired my new home. With the push of a couple buttons, two panels expanded. I would have enough room inside to stretch out and sleep at night. It was like a two-man tent with some badass technology.