She presses her lips together. I get it. I miss showers too. Before we left, I uploaded a static map of Cydonia and Arabia Terra to her tablet. No GPS, but if I can locate some relay points, maybe we’ll get lucky.
The ride’s long. I don’t know the terrain, so I’m careful. I stop often to reorient. We’re skirting the Human zone’s outer border, heading south. I’ve got a rocky peak in sight—our best landmark. At its base should be a shelter and recharge station. Hopefully.
The mood in the cabin slowly lightens. Neela starts asking questions about the worlds I’ve seen. I pull out my wildest stories to distract her from darker thoughts.
After two hours, I stop. I’ve spotted movement—likely small game. I need to eat. So does she. She gives me a questioning look. I sigh.
“I saw some prey. I have to eat. You should too—dig into your rations. Stay in the vehicle.”
Her perfect little mouth opens to object, then closes. She’s learning.
I strip down to pants and a weapon, then head off.
It doesn’t take long to track down the little rodents. They’re fat, fluffy things—basically round furballs with eyes and a nose. Two pop out of their burrow. I strike, quick and clean.
I skin and gut them expertly. Now the dilemma: eat them raw—not tasty—or ask Neela to empty the solar oven and answer awkward questions. Nope. I eat them here.
I’m halfway through the second when every hair on my body bristles. I freeze. Something’s wrong. I hear a low growl—not feline, not wolf.
I bolt uphill and spot the scene from a rocky outcrop. Wind whistles, carrying pine and damp earth—and a stench that can only be one thing.
Neela’s cornered, pale with fear. Towering over her is a massive brown bear, way bigger than me. Shaggy fur, claws like knives.
I raise my pistoblaster, but she’s right in my line of fire. One wrong move…
The bear sniffs the air and locks eyes with me. Yeah, buddy, I know—I stink. I haven’t showered either. Thanks for the reminder.
It roars, irritated. I roar back—my loudest. No effect, but it shifts slightly toward me. Good.
From the corner of my eye, I see Neela edging toward the vehicle. Perfect. I leap and fire.
Click.
Damn it. Jammed.
The bear slams me down, drooling in my face. Smells worse than me! I claw its muzzle. It bites my flank. Shit, that hurts!
My blaster’s out of reach. The beast’s furious. It rears up—about to finish me—
And suddenly collapses.
On me.
All 900 pounds of him.
I can’t breathe. I squirm under his dead weight.
“Oh gods, I killed him!” Neela cries, rushing over to help me push him off.
Bit by bit, we manage. My side burns—four deep punctures.
“You’re bleeding!” she gasps.
“Let’s get in the vehicle. That bear’s gonna wake up soon.”
“Wake up?!”
“Yeah, Confed pistoblasters have settings: mild pain, moderate, intense, sleep—and a lethal mode no one uses. Yours was on mild. Mine was on sleep. Oops. Let’s move before he does.”
