I think of Har-loh and what she would like.She likes plants better than meat,I think. Maybe…maybe I could visit Tee-fah-ni’s fruit cave and bring her home a few things from there? It is not far from the Elders’ Cave, and the grounds are familiar, if far away. It is a long journey, but I think of how Har-loh will smile at such a thing.
And I set off in that direction, Chahm-pee chewing as he moves beside me. He likes the fruit, too. And maybe when we are there, we can see if the Elders’ cave is still tipped over.
All afternoon, I hike in that direction. The plants thin out atop the ridges, so I descend the cliffs and walk in the valleys with Chahm-pee. There are snow-cats around, and other dvisti herds, and I see the shadow of the occasional sky-claw, but they do not concern me. I am much larger than any of the small humans and it will not bother me, and Chahm-pee is far too fat to worry about the scrawny snow-cats. When the suns begin to move lower in the skies, I eat a few bites of the dried meat my mother sent along and contemplate where I shall sleep. There are two hunter caves close to me. One is but a short walk from here, but it is tiny and ill-suited for both sa-khui female and dvisti, and I will have to smell Chahm-pee make wind all night. Better to continue to the farther cave, which is larger…but it means journeying after dark.
I shrug off any concern. It is the bitter season, and I am strong. I have a knife and spear, and nothing should attack an adult sa-khui, especially not one accompanied by a large dvisti. It will be fine. But when I cross the next ridge, I see…something.
Something different.
At first I think it is my eyes playing tricks on me. A flash of light, and then it is gone. I squint up at the skies, my hand to my brow as I gaze at the clouds. Was it my imagination?
But then, there it is again. It flashes in the sky and then grows dark. It moves quickly, darting high up and between the clouds, moving like no bird or sky-claw I have ever seen before. I watch in wonder as it hovers over one of the distantcliffs, then zooms across the sky faster than I can follow. When the lights flash again, I realize what this is.
It is another human cave, just like the one Shorshie and the others came from. We have visitors from the stars. For a moment, I am terrified. Maybe someone has come to take Shorshie and the other humans away? Back where they came from? But no, they have said many times that they did not come here willingly, and Kira made sure their cave did not go back to the skies.
These people are here for different reasons. They must be.
But what?
2
MARDOK
“Ican’t believe we gotta set down here. Do you know where the kef we are?” Trakan snarls, sticking another carcinogel between his lips and lighting it. His foot taps angrily on the floor of the main deck.
“You’re the navigator,” I tell him, keeping my tone slow and unconcerned as I scroll through screen after screen of error codes. “That’s your job.”
“Kopan Keffing VI,” he snarls, and I can hear the angry smack of his fingers against his input station as he types. “Uninhabited keffing snowball of a planet, that’s what it is.”
“Better than Kopan V,” Captain Chatav says, unruffled as he gazes out the monitors into space. “We’d be crispy if we landed any closer to that binary star. We’re lucky to be this far out.”
Trakan snorts and gets to his feet, storming off the bridge.
Chatav isn’t concerned. He swigs his tea and regards the screen, lit up with engine diagnostics. Not much ruffles thecaptain. Not after serving half his life in the military and being shipped out to conflict after endless conflict. To him, this is probably cake and not an emergency. “You can fix this, Vendasi?”
“Probably,” I tell him. “Might need to take the engine or the matter drive apart, but I’m positive I can at least patch us to the next spaceport if nothing else. And call me Mardok.” Being called by my surname reminds me of my time in the military, and I’d rather not think about that shit. Not today. Not any day, really.
Today, though, I’m trying not to panic. I don’t like that we’re stuck here. I don’t like being stranded. Not one keffing bit.
The captain nods at my response. “See to it then, Vendasi. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”
I don’t correct him again. Been working with the captain for three years now and he still calls me Vendasi. Guess you can’t take the military out of him, even after all this time. It’s a game between us, one that’s been going on for a long time. I tell him what to call me, and he calls me whatever the kef he pleases, because he’s the captain. Most days I find it amusing. Today, it just irritates me. But I suck it up and do my best to not let it eat at me. Been down that road too many times. Let the small things get to me and I’ll never get my head calm.
So I nod at the captain and grab my diagnostic pad. Everyone else gets to relax while we wait, but I get to work. Lucky me. I click a button on my console and lean in to give the order. “Computer, initiate landing.”
It’s notthe matter drive. I figure that out about three hours into the diagnostic. That’s a good thing, because if the matter drive is busted, we’re straight up keffed. So if it isn’t the matter drive, has to be the engine. The good news is thatI can likely fix the engine. The bad news is that I have to take it apart to see which parts are failing, and that means going outside onto Kopan VI.
In a way, I’m kind of looking forward to it. Spent the last few weeks on a medic station before returning toThe TranquilLady, and before that, spent the last few years in space. Spent most of my time back in the military riding shuttles and at base stations, with a few ugly exceptions. Getting out in the open sounds kinda nice. According to my info-feed, the atmosphere’s breathable. There are a few bad elements that need to be filtered out, so I clip an air-gen to my nose and wait for it to kick in. Once it does, I breathe deep. Amazing how something so small can even cut away the dank, metallic smell of the ship. I suck in another breath or two, then grab my di-pad and my tools, and hit the button for the hatch.
It creaks open, ice cracking off and falling away as the hatch door slides back. A blast of frigid air hits me in the face, and I immediately shut the hatch again with a slap of my hand over the button.
Kef. That iscoldoutside. I’m shocked that my regulating jumpsuit isn’t able to handle the temperature. Feels colder than deep space, though I’m not sure that’s possible.
I swallow the uneasiness I feel.We’re not stranded, I remind myself.It’s an easy fix. The ship isn’t critical, just has a minor problem. You can fix this.I retreat backward into the ship, flexing my artificial arm. The metal can handle extreme temperatures, but it still feels colder than the rest of my body. I clench my fist over and over again, expecting to hear a creak in the metallic joints, but there is nothing. There never is. Flexing my hand, I head over to the gear station in the bay and suit up against the environment. I leave off a helmet—it’s not necessary and I like for my eyes to be unobstructedwhile I work. Niri has a scarf left in here, since she claims her neck gets cold in enviro-suits. I wrap it around my exposed neck, ignoring the fact that it’s bright pink and yellow. It’s warm, and that’s all that matters. Once I’m dressed, I slap the door hatch again and close my eyes, bracing against the bone-jarring cold. Guess I don’t have to wonder about why this place isn’t inhabited. Not only is it in the middle of keffing nowhere, but it’s also so cold it makes your cock freeze off. I hunch against the brutal wind and head out, tools in hand.
On the underside ofThe Tranquil Lady, I’m mostly protected from the wind, and the cold isn’t so bad. I unscrew panels on the hull, setting them down carefully in the thick snow before moving on to the next one. My diagnostic pad is telling me that everything in the engine is working just fine, which means that it’s wrong and I’m going to have to pull things apart and examine them, one by one, to determine what the problem is. I don’t mind working with my hands. Calms the roar in my brain. Just wish it wasn’t so cold. I get to work, carefully removing one part and setting it down, then another. A few of them are corroded in spots, which points to a leak somewhere. Maybe there’s not enough damage—yet—to cause things to stop working completely, but enough to cause the jerking in the accelerator, which is what concerned Trakan and the captain in the first place. I forget all about the cold after a few minutes of work, more interested in finding the problem and determining the extent of the damage.
“Holy kef, it’s colder than a tranki whore’s tits out here.”
