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Kalon
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Adar Ulic Bekara
Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant
Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation
Solar System: D-447
Planet: Ora
Location: Above planet’s surface, hanging from the side of a derelict Destroyer
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I awaken to the groaning of the wind. My dislocated arm throbs with a deep thud of pain, pulling my mind back to the moment. I take control of my breathing now to focus through it—like the elders of my tribe taught. When the calm presses past the pain, I take stock of my situation.
The ship is near me, I reach out with my uninjured arm, but can’t touch it, I look down and see no one. Nekam will have told everyone to leave, neither the tribe nor the Clan will wait for me, not with the storm here and night coming. Not even Arrum. He should obey his uncle and leave me for dead, because I am dead, my body just does not know it yet. My eyes train toward the horizon, and fear leaches into my eyes as they widen. The twin suns have nearly set. Night approaches, and so do her creatures… the Shulka.
The pain in my arm is throbbing, I feel dried blood on my forehead flaking as I adjust my mask, a bump accompanying the wound. I try to shift my weight, letting out a groan from the pain. I try to climb up the cords, but they are thin, and I can’t find a grip on them. Looking around the dead ship, I see a long gash in it leading up to my chute. It is what stopped my fall, delaying my fate. I am far from the ship’s hull, but not so far that it is hopeless.
People are fickle creatures, I am reminded of this as I feel tempted to say a prayer to the gods I have forsaken, but I have not called for them before, nor will I now. Taking a deep breath Pumping my legs back and forth to gain momentum now, so I can swing to the ship. After a minute I can almost touch it, I reach out towards it, making one final pump with my legs, until I grasp it as firmly as I can. Now curling my legs around the exposed metal. A feeling of relief washes over me, but it is short-lived, the howling of the winds growing louder brings me back to reality. I grit my teeth and look skyward. I am not dead yet. There is work to be done.
My eyes squint as I see a figure far above me, leaning over the edge of the curled metal. Thinking it’s a trick of the light, I blink my eyes again and again. The figure is still there. I see a rope fall down, made of braided cords like the ones of my tribe, it swings towards me, I am so stunned that the rope hits me and I do not grab it.
“Sekat!” I hear the voice curse over the howling winds “Grab it!”
It is Arrum’s voice I realize. I feel a smile crossing my face, hope daring to fill my heart, doing battle against the raging torrents of despair.
“You are a fool!” I yell upwards.
“Never claimed to be wise!” He yells back between the howls of the wind “Grab it this time!”
He tosses the rope again, swinging it to me. I grasp it tightly this time, looping it into my belt, and tying it as best I can with one arm.
The crawl upwards is grueling, each time I advance, I wrap another loop of the chute’s cords around me, so if I fall, I won’t pull Arrum to the grave. I slip twice on my climb up since I only have one useful arm. I want to give up, the suns are nearly past the horizon, Arrum should flee and try to take shelter somewhere, anywhere. The thought of him throwing his life away for me again brings great shame.
“You don’t give up! We are Ulima! Death must earn us!” Arrum yells to encourage me.
His words cut at the despair. My eyes shut, taking in his words, pressing away the doubt, pushing out the fear. We are alive, there is still hope for both of us.
“Adar Ulic Bekara!” I yell back in the old tongue, pounding my chest with my good hand.
While there is life, there is the will to keep it. It is something that the Sage used to say, among other things. His words fill my mind as I climb.
There is always hope, but it does not find those who do not seek it.
After some time, I finally reach the top of the chute and rest on the metal. Arrum pulls me closer to the center. Looking out toward the horizon. I am too tired to think, panting as I lay on the curled outer shell of the hull. I am exhausted, and my arm is numb.
I feel tears forming in my eyes as I want to thank the forsaken gods that I made it. I know they do not listen, but I want to thank them, anyone or anything that my one true friend did not abandon me. I push the tears back, not letting them fall. The Kuwathi do not cry. This is not the time to rejoice, the storm grows louder still. Focus fills my mind again, pressing past the pain.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Can you stand?” Arrum asks me. He traces his hand over my mangled shoulder, cursing under his breath.
“I can.”
“Good. We need to move—the storm is upon us.” He says, looking out at the howling winds “Night follows in its shadow.”
The last rays of light are disappearing, night is nearly here. The glow from the three moons will be the only light soon. The night creatures do not fear the red glow of them, they embrace it.
With Arrum’s help, I stand. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, refocusing myself, and open them looking around the torn metal for a way inside. The hull of the ship is thick and layered, the little light disappears into a small hole in the third layer of plating. Too small for a big man, but for us we might be able to fit through. It takes a moment to work up the nerve to enter the hole. If there is a Shulka in there already, we are doomed.
I untangle myself completely from my chute with Arrum’s help and fold it with one arm as best I can. I make my way to the hole now, my nerves calmed enough. Now putting my head and arm through, peering around. Using my laser cutter on the lowest setting, illuminating the space inside. Hoping that there is no creature in it. It looks like a small maintenance room, or something akin to it, the consoles have not been scavenged yet, which makes my heart sink. It must be encased in thick metals with no way into the main ship if no one scrapped it. The hope rises though against this problem, it also means it will be harder for the Shulka to get to us. We can worry about getting down tomorrow. If we survive the night.
“We need to shelter the storm in here,” I say.
Arrum nods and shuffles over to the hole with me.
“And the Shulka,” He says, there is tension in his voice.
The Shulka number more than just the shriekers, stalkers, and carvers upon the surface. There are some creatures that even they fear. Though I have never seen one, the Sage told Arrum and me of them. If you see one, you should run is all his mouth said. Though his eyes spoke of horror beyond explanation.
I fight back the despair and climb through slowly, my shoulders almost too wide to fit. My dislocated arm makes it hard to shift through. Barely managing after a few minutes of struggling and Arrum pushing my feet. When I pass the hole, I fall to the floor, landing on my injured arm. I howl in pain nursing it, clenching my teeth. I pound my other hand on the floor in frustration, and then like the elders of the tribe taught me, I breathe through it and focus myself. When it falls back and the calm washes over me, I look around the room, beginning to sort through the refuse around me. I see a door partially opened across from me, I look for a piece of metal and try to pry it open but it is stuck, the gears must have been bent when the ship crashed.
“Sekat…” I curse in the old tongue, slumping to the floor and trying to collect myself again. My arm is throbbing, the numbness gone once more.
Arrum is the next through, the last rays of light falling with him.
“We need to set it, or you will lose it,” Arrum says looking at my mangled arm.
“We need to seal the entrance first,” I say, picking up metal panels and laying them across the hole.
Arrum welds them with the laser cutter, it will not hold against much, but it will at least give us a warning. While he finishes the welding, I remove my thermosuit so I can look at the mangled arm. The cold is a bitter reminder of where we are. This is the only time we can do it though, soon the night's chill will make it too cold to be outside the suit.
I grit my chattering teeth and begin to try to control my breathing until I am calm and the cold is distant from my mind. Looking around the room again, I take stock of what I see. Using the red light of my cutter to illuminate the area once more. There are four panels and strewn about tools, I sift through them now looking for anything I can use. I know that getting down will be only one step to our getting home, we will need to fix my arm first if there is hope to climb down. I am lucky to be alive, I am luckier still that my arm did not break, but it is frustrating to have it hang uselessly to my side.
Arrum pulls back my underclothes around my shoulder, the cold air cuts deeper at my skin, causing me to shiver more.
“How bad?” I ask through chattering teeth.
He looks at me and says “It could be worse. We need to set it.”
Steeling my resolve, I begin opening the chute and cutting the cords, Arrum lashes them to my injured arm, then ties it off to a piece of metal sticking out from the wall.
“Steady pull and I will guide it back in,” Arrum says, nodding to me and placing his hands around my shoulder.
I pull my weight against it, slowly bringing it taut, the pain in my arm increasing as it becomes straight. As the tension releases Arrum pushes it back in, and I hear my arm relocate with a sickening pop.
There is a relief through the pain, I think it has set properly, or at least well enough that I might use it to escape this place. I test my hand and it moves again, my joints sore but useful once more.
“Thank you,” I say embracing his arm.
“You would have done the same.” He says as he begins to take stock of the room.
Wasting no time, I put back on my thermosuit. The warmth slowly returns to my body. My mind begins to think more clearly again now that the pain is subsiding, a dull throb and ache the only reminder of my injury. I pause for a moment and realize that if Arrum got up here, there must be a way down.
“How did you manage to get up here?” I ask him.
“I rode the storm's wind to the top of the ship with my chute.” He says, even though I can’t see his face I hear the grin “Like we did when we were children.”
Impressed I clap him on the shoulder, he has always been brave. As an Ulima, he must be, but this act was beyond bravery, I will not soon forget it.
“Your chute?” I ask him. He turns and shows me the cords have been cut.
“The wind was too strong, I had to cut them or I would have missed the ship.” He says with a sigh.
That makes sense, if he hadn’t… then it hits me, as I recall what has happened. My parachute's release cord was already cut, I am sure it was intact when we left in the morning. Neeba was the only person who checked it after me. Did he mean for this? Did he try to kill me? Will Nekam believe me? Will he take Neeba’s side? I feel the anger rising, and I try to regain my composure. I must focus on survival, it is not just my life at stake now.
“Can we get down the way you got up?” I ask him now thinking clearer again. He shakes his head.
“I had to leave the rope tied up top. I don’t think either of us could make the climb.” He says.
How do we both get down without climbing? We are both too weak now. By morning, without rations, we will be hungry. His chute is gone and mine is severely torn, it will not hold us both even if we could mend it.
The sound of shrieker’s screams piercing the night’s air over the storm’s cries pulls us both back to the present. Our knives find their way quickly into our thick gloves as our eyes peer toward the welded metal panel. The despair creeps deeper as I know we both wonder if it will hold through the night.