“So, nothing prepares you for how empty it is out there, you know?” Malik said as he reclined in the threshold of the lifepod’s hatch. He let his forearm rest casually on one bent knee while he looked out at the empty expanse of water around him. One leg dangled over the edge of the threshold so he could idly stir the warm water with his bare foot.
“Time passes but nothing happens. One day is just like the rest. Same routine, same food, same people,” a wistful smile tugged at his lips as he turned to look toward his audience. His new friend’s large, amber eyes replied with a slow blink. Malik imagined that it was the sea monster’s way of encouraging him to continue. Or, maybe, it was just encouraging him to shoot another coatl. It was hard to tell when the only thing above the waves was its reptilian eyes.
“I think that’s why they did it. I think the loneliness got to them. So when the sensors picked up a planet that could, possibly, support life, they took the gamble.” Malik’s eyes turned down, frowning as he watched the water swirl around his ankle. “I could forgive them for leaving us behind. Maybe. Our mission was to protect the colonists, not each other. Not really. But they left 40,000 people to die.” Malik’s voice lowered to a dangerous rasp, like a knife’s edge dragging against a whetstone. When he spoke, his quiet words were a personal vow that he shared with his new friend and whatever Gods watched over this new planet. “One day there will be a reckoning for that.”
Mal shook his head as if he could physically free his mind of the somber thoughts that had been plaguing him while he waited for the drone to return.
*****
Three days had passed since he’d met Oscar. In that time, he’d learned precious little about his new friend. He'd been pleased to find out that Oscar was a good listener. It would often blink supportively while patiently letting Mal babble for hours about his time aboard the Starlight Journey. Oscar was shy, rarely allowing any part of its body above the waterline except for a set of large, slitted eyes. His new friend also had a voracious appetite. The sea monster had been prowling around the lifepod from dawn till dusk ever since the first time it helped itself to the first coatl Mal had killed. Malik had a suspicion that the gluttonous leviathan saw the flying snakes as more of an exotic delicacy than a meal. There was simply no way Malik’s meager offerings provided enough calories to sustain the veritable sea god.
Because that was the other thing about Oscar. Perhaps the most relevant thing. Oscar was, in a word, massive. While it wasn’t quite as large as a blue whale, it was certainly larger than an orca. In the glimpses that Mal had caught of his newfound companion, he’d seen rough, knobby hide that was reminiscent in color and texture to that of an alligator. In fact, near as Mal could tell, Oscar wasn’t simply similar to an alligator, he was an alligator. Or crocodile. Whichever one lived in a saltwater habitat. He could never remember which was which. He usually hid his shortcoming by referring to both as crocogators, but he wasn’t sure Oscar would appreciate a bit of interstellar humor.
This was important, because Malik did not want to make his new friend angry. Mal guessed that Oscar, from snout to tail, was roughly the size of a school bus. Which made him extremely formidable before you even considered the long, curved teeth lining its mouth. Each tooth could have been mistaken for a rhinoceros horn. Malik had no idea why it needed teeth so big because it was certainly swallowing the coatls whole. His best guess was that they were a lingering evolutionary trait from an ancient time before the leviathan had a human to provide snacks.
And provide snacks he did. The day after his introduction to Oscar, Malik had to routinely remove unwanted coatls from the hull of his lifepod. Their constant intrusion made it impossible to watch the feed from the drone’s camera. Paranoid of missing a glimpse of dry land, Mal had altered his routine. Instead of watching the feed live, he began studying a recording of the drone’s footage at night after it returned to recharge.
By the end of the second day, he’d stopped using his rifle in the interest of conserving ammo and instead opted to employ his pistol. This had the added benefit of carefully euthanizing the coatls instead of mangling them beyond recognition. A fact that Mal knew Oscar appreciated. Even if it didn’t say so.
After a particularly eventful coatl hunt that involved him climbing around the outside of the hull while Oscar circled the lifepod like a patient shark, Malik had an epiphany.
“It’s the heat, Oscar,” he’d called out as the sea serpent’s teeth closed around the coatl’s most recent casualty in the War of Doom Noodle Aggression. As the flying snake was silently pulled beneath the waves, Malik continued, “They must be drawn to the heat. That’s why they didn’t attack on my first day here. The solar frames hadn’t been deployed yet. Do you think they evolved to hunt warm-blooded prey? Is that why they’re so sensitive to heat signatures? If so, there could be a hunting ground somewhere close. Warm-blooded creatures usually imply dry land.”
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Mal looked down toward Oscar as he clambered back toward the hatch. The leviathan blinked its amber eyes once, slowly, after it resurfaced. Malik knew an encouraging look when he saw one.
*****
“Mayday. This is Malik Rosen, formerly of the colony ship, Starlight Journey. Can anyone read me, over?”
His mayday broadcast had become a ritual, of sorts, that he’d developed a love/hate relationship with. He spent most of his day anxiously watching the time to make sure he didn’t miss his routine broadcast. As the time grew closer, even after days without a response, he couldn’t quell the flutter of hope in his heart that flickered and flashed like a sparkler on Independent Mars Day. Inevitably that bright hope would be extinguished by the crushing weight of the solitude he felt when his only reply was stony silence.
“I don’t know, Oscar,” Malik said, regarding his helmet ruefully before he set the crucial piece of gear down onto the tritanium floor. “I think it's going to get pretty hard to keep sending a message if there’s no one to reply. You’ve been here for three days, so you know we’re only drifting at about eight knots. That’s not covering much territory. The drone is a little better, but it still isn’t enough. If I’m going to find people or land, I’ve got to figure out a way to move.”
“I think…,” Rosen tilted his head back and closed his deep blue eyes. His bare chest rose as he drew in a long, calming breath before he exhaled slowly. “I think I’m going to die out here, buddy. I can filter water, but eventually, my rations will run out, even if you share some of the coatls. Trying to fish is right out. Anything brave enough to approach the pod while you’re hanging out is not something I want to mess with. So, once the ration bars run out, it’s only a matter of time because there’s no way a man can survive on flying snake alone. I’ll develop some vitamin deficiencies. If that is, the coatl doesn’t just kill me the first time I eat one. I still don’t know if they’re safe for human consumption. Surely I’d have gotten sick by now if they carried some sort of native pathogen. So, I guess, that’s a good sign.”
“...Right?” Malik asked, ashamed of the wetness he could feel threatening to spill from his eyes.
Something inside Malik was on the cusp of cracking like a frozen lake beneath a stampede of elephants. He’d tried to remain calm, cool, and in control. Solid and dependable as he’d always been. But all the worries, all the pressure, stomping through his mind was on the verge of breaking him past the point of mending.
His relief when he heard a coatl land heavily on the roof of the lifepod was a palpable thing.
His fingers rubbed once at his eyes to bring his vision back into focus. A fumbling hand quickly found where he’d laid the pistol on the floor next to him. Then he was rising to his feet like a prizefighter in the twelfth round of the night’s main event. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but right now, today, he would not go quietly into the embrace of eternity.
The hum of the pistol’s capacitor was more felt than heard as he put his finger over the trigger. He thumbed off the safety before stepping around the edge of the hatch to peer up toward the array of solar frames shining in the noonday sun. He didn’t relish the thought of another battle on the far side of the pod while he clung to the wall of his floating fortress for dear life.
Of course, that’s exactly where the coatl was, from the sound of it. He could hear the beast’s claws scraping against the pod’s hull, but no matter how he craned his neck around the edge of the hatch, he couldn’t see the pest. With no other alternative, Malik cursed under his breath and carefully worked his fingers into a gap in the side of the pod. The toned muscle chiseled across his pale flesh rippled in a display of carefully cultivated power as he hoisted himself up and around the edge of the pod.
Disaster struck almost immediately.
Perhaps the coatl heard him climbing up from the hatch. Or maybe it heard the hiss of colorful profanity Malik had spat when he realized the winged serpent was on the wrong side of the pod. Or maybe, just maybe, it was simply bad luck. Regardless of the reason, the coatl rounded the edge of the pod just as Mal did the same. For a single immortal moment, the two faced one another in silence while they clung to the hull of the lifepod.
Then the moment passed and the eyeless beast released an ear-splitting shriek as it drew back like a viper preparing to strike.
“Oh shit!” Mal yelled and threw himself back to avoid the coatl’s toothy maw as it snapped toward him with murderous glee.
The good news was that he did manage to avoid having his throat ripped out by the coatl’s jagged teeth. The bad news was that his evasion cost him his already precarious hold on the side of the lifepod. He tried once to catch himself only to feel his fingers slip ineffectually across the mostly smooth metal.
A heartbeat later he plunged into the drink.