Barbarian's Mate (8 page)

J
o-see is much stronger
than I have given her credit for. She is tired, but she walks a good distance every day, even when her snowshoes drag on the ground. She has been lucky in finding shelter — the first two nights, she found hunter caves and the third, she made herself a nest in the rocky shelter of a ledge out of the wind at the base of a cliff. She is smart. She is resourceful, too. I watch from a distance as she picks up dung as she walks, or scoops up snow and pulls her pouch under her furs to melt it.

She does not, however, look behind her.

This does not surprise me. Jo-see is the type to plunge forward in life. I am the sour one that looks behind. But if she looked but once, she would see me on the horizon, trailing behind her, watching to make sure she does not wander into a nest of metlaks, or that she is not hunted by a hungry snow-cat.

But no, Jo-see is smart and she is cautious, and I am proud of how well she is doing, even if she does not seem to want to go back.

She continues to head toward the mountains every day, always in the same direction. It is intriguing to me. Where is she going? What does she think she will find? She treads over hunting trails and goes over hills, and crosses over rocky outcroppings that make my body tense with the need to rescue her. But she is not being foolhardy. She is cautious. She pauses at every stream and checks for
nelukh
- the fish that humans call ‘face eaters’ - and sprinkles crushed berries upstream to get them to leave before she crosses. If she sees tracks of other animals, she changes her route.

I rub my chest as I watch her peek her head into another hunter cave. Last night she slept in the open and while she kept her fire going, it took everything I had not to step in and lead her toward shelter. I know these lands like I know my own tail, and I do not want to see her suffer.

But this is important to her, so I will follow her for however long it is necessary…or until my khui becomes unbearable. Even now, just thinking about her causes my cock to rise. When I know she is safe for the evening, I will rub myself until I come, but it does no more than whet the itch.

Just once, I wish she would look back. I wish she would see me, waiting on the horizon for her. Waiting to take care of her. To comfort her. To be her man and her mate and whatever else she needs.

But she never turns.

I hope wherever Jo-see is going, she gets there soon.

The ocean is beautiful.

After days of walking, my supplies are getting low, my feet feel battered, and I’m utterly exhausted. But when I hike up a rocky ridge and see the distant rolling, jade-green waves of the water? It’s something else. The outcropping I’m on ends abruptly and far below, I see gritty sand a darker shade of green than the water itself, and frosty, light green icebergs floating in the distant water. This is so cool.

I remove my snowshoes and take a seat on the ledge so I can relax and gaze out at the ocean. From my vantage point, I can see for miles. It’s really something. The waves are tranquil and the water looks so soothing. I pull out my trail mix pouch and eat a few crumbs as I enjoy the view. I don’t have much left, but I’m at my destination. Well, sort of. I don’t see anything that looks like the caves Harlow described, so maybe I’m in the wrong spot. I lick the last few crumbs from my fingers and ignore the grumbling of my stomach. It’ll have to last.

On a whim, I dig out the disc of glass from my bag. I’m a little ashamed to say I stole it from Harlow, but if the surgery machine is broken, does it even matter? Nothing else is half as useful, and I plan on using the heck out of this thing. I cup my fingers around the edges and hold it to my eye like I would a telescope. At first it makes my gaze blurry, so I try focusing with one eye closed, and things zoom into place.

Now I can see much further away. Excited, I use it to gaze down at the ocean. The water doesn’t look as green — or as soothing — a little closer. In fact, the waves look downright nasty, and I can see dark blobs scuttling on the shore.

A shadow flies overhead, and I put my ‘telescope’ down, glancing up. There’s a gigantic bird overhead, rushing past at a speed I’ve never seen before. Holy crap, it’s fast. I lift my spyglass again, but it moves so quick I can’t catch a view of it. Darn.

I turn back to the ocean, and peer out at the icebergs. There’s dark shapes on them that I can’t make out. Maybe the Not-Hoth version of seals? Ice otters? Something? A moment later, the waves undulate and a thin, yellowish snakelike thing erupts from the waves and snatches one of the dark shapes off of the iceberg and disappears under the water with it. I shudder.

Mental note: no swimming.

I move the telescope over the water, scanning. Mostly there’s nothing to see but more waves, but as I sweep over the distant horizon, a faint smear of lighter green against the water catches my eye. I try to focus in, but no matter how much I squint, I can’t see what it is. At first I think it’s another sea serpent, but when it doesn’t move, I realize it’s something else. Land, maybe? But it’s…green. Maybe I should check it out.

I turn my telescope back to the icebergs and see another dark shape flutter under the water.

Maaaaybe I won’t check out the green if it means going through Jurassic Park: Aqua Edition. Haeden would know what those things are. For a moment, I feel an unhappy pang of longing that has nothing to do with my cootie.

I put down my spyglass and rub my forehead, where a headache is starting.

It’s weird, but I miss Haeden. With all this travel, my cootie’s gone mostly silent, though I dream of Haeden at night and when I wake up, my chest is vibrating with resonance. That isn’t what makes me miss him, though. I miss his presence, knowing that he’s
there
for me. It’s strange, but no one’s ever really been there for me in my life. When the shit hit the fan, everyone else ran away. Not Haeden. He might glare and put up a fuss, but he’s always been there. Funny how I didn’t realize it until I left.

He’s still insufferable and a prick, but…he’s growing on me. Or was. I imagine what he’d say if he knew I went all the way out to the ocean on my own. He’d scowl, his tail flicking, and cross his big arms.
You’re weak, Jo-see. Females must be protected. Humans cannot travel like the sa-khui.

I’m gleeful, imagining the smug look on his face changing to one of wonder as he realizes just what I’ve done. That I’m a tough cookie. And some of my enjoyment fades when I realize he’ll never realize what I’ve accomplished, because I’ll never see him again.

I hate the wistful ache in my breast. I’ve made my choice and I won’t cry over it. Another bird flies overhead and I squint at it. Eagles? This area reminds me of a (much, much colder) Pacific Northwest and there are eagles in that area. Probably not too safe to be up on the ridge, then. I’ll leave just as soon as I figure out where Harlow’s cave is.

I raise the glass again and this time, I scan the rocks. The cliff below shows nothing interesting, and I sweep up, up, up into the distance until I realize I’m staring at the base of the purple mountains, the ones that look like glass or rock candy. Pretty, but not what I want. Still, I can’t help but study them for a bit, because I’ve seen nothing like them before.

That’s when I notice the wreckage.

My spyglass sweeps over one mountain, and in the snow at the base there’s a dark shape half covered in snow. There are hard edges to it and a blinking red light, and the pit of my stomach curdles, sick.

It’s a ship.

It can’t be…can it?

W
hen I decided
to set off and become Ice Explorer Josie, I’d expected one of two things: sucking miserably at it and returning home, or finding Harlow’s cave and hiding out there until my cootie gave up.

I didn’t expect to find another spaceship.

I stare at the square. It’s not our ship. It’s not the one we came from. That one was near the peak of a granite-like mountain and this one is surrounded by purple rock-candy peaks. Ours had a breach in the hull on the top and the rest of the compartment we’d landed in was relatively secure. It was the only way we’d managed to survive the elements for a week despite no cold weather gear and no supplies. The snow had insulated us and our body heat kept us warm.

This wreckage is different. Even though it’s a square, it looks like one end is mangled, like a cereal box torn open at the bottom. There’s snow, but I see a blinking red light. Maybe it’s a distress beacon of some kind.

Oh, crap. What if there’s someone that needs a rescue and all they’ve got is
me
?

I put down my spyglass, thinking. Okay, panicking. A little panic’s totally justified, though. I don’t know what I’m going to do. We haven’t seen any ships fly overhead in the year and a half that we’ve been on Not-Hoth. No one’s tried to re-kidnap us.

It’s a trap
, Admiral Ackbar’s voice says in my ears.

Yeah, it feels a bit like a trap. Of course, the more I think logically about it, the more I wonder.

A ship returned a few months after we’d arrived. They stole Kira again, shot Aehako and Haeden - oh crap, Haeden! - and left them for dead. Kira had saved the day when she crashed the ship and took an escape pod back to Aehako’s side. It’s a story that’s been told around the campfire over and over again. I’ve heard it a dozen times, mostly because I gleefully enjoyed the part where Haeden got his guts shot up.

Man, I’ve been a jerk to the guy. I feel a twinge of guilt and then shove it away.
Focus, Jo.

Okay. Okay. I close my eyes, picturing Kira telling the story in her solemn voice. She’d set the spaceship on autopilot and pointed it at the distant mountains, where it had crashed. Both Aehako and Kira had seen the crash.

Distant mountains.

These mountains.

I exhale a breath of relief. That has to be it. This is the ship Kira crashed, and when she’d crashed it, there were no survivors. They were all already dead. It was a little…well, bloodthirsty, but it’s hard to feel sorry for someone that stole you from Earth and wanted to re-enslave you. I’m not sorry they’re dead.

But I still don’t know what to do.

Do I check out the wreckage and hope there’s something useful? Or do I go hunt down Harlow’s cave with its supplies?

Or do I somehow make a boat and check out the green smear in the distant waves that might be an island?

This feels like an ice-age version of House Hunters.
Does Josie want adventure and an island cabana despite the dangerous location? Or will she choose a beachfront property…provided she can ever find Harlow’s cave? Or will she choose the house in the mountains, even though it might already be occupied?

I look around me. The cliff has greenery, but it’s scrubby and twisted, designed to cling to the rock through the snow and the high wind. There’s nothing around here that would make a canoe even if I knew how to make one, or a raft. And the thought of getting into that sea-monster infested water scares me.

“Island, you’re going to have to wait for another day,” I tell it. House one eliminated. Now, in true House Hunters fashion, I need to narrow it down to two choices.

I ponder this even as another dark shape moves through the sky, the shadow rippling over me. Whatever I decide, it’s not smart to stay here. I give another quick glance through the spyglass at the cliffs below, but I don’t see a cave. Shit. I turn my glass back to the wreckage, in the opposite direction.

The red light winks at me.

If that’s the wreckage I’m thinking of, there’s no survivors.

But what if I’m wrong?

But…what if they have food? And guns? And things I can use to survive? Right now I’ve got a pocket knife and maybe a handful of trail mix left.

I chew on my lip, thinking, and toy with the spyglass, flipping it through my fingers. It’s been surprisingly handy, and it wasn’t even meant for this. Who knows what kinds of goodies the other alien ship will have? I put the spyglass in my pack. I sling it over my shoulder, put my snowshoes back on, and head down the cliffs, toward the wreckage.

If I’m here, I might as well see what I can salvage.

T
he wreckage is
a bit further away than it appeared in my stupid spyglass. Okay, a lot further away. I hike for the rest of the day and don’t make it there before the suns start to set. There’s not much shelter around, so I find a few scrubby bushes to act as a windbreak and spend the last hour before sunset pushing the snow higher into the bushes so they form a wall. I have a bit of a dugout and I build my fire there, spending the entire night shivering and feeding more fuel to it so I don’t freeze.

By the time morning comes, I’m exhausted. I let the fire die and take a quick nap in the sunlight until the bleating of a nearby dvisti herd wakes me up. I head off toward the crashed ship again, and when the suns are high in the sky, I arrive at the ship.

It takes everything I have not to go to Jo-see’s side during the night and offer to assist. She would not appreciate it, and when I see her creating the windbreak with the snow, I know she is smart. She will be fine, if not comfortable. Still, I stay closer than I normally do, my spear at the ready, and watch over her. She is in the open, and if anything tries to approach her, I will gut it for daring to get near my mate.

After her morning nap, she takes off again and I follow behind her, far enough so she will not notice me. As I do, I notice that her path crosses other tracks in the snow. I slow, letting her get ahead so I can study them. I crouch low and touch one. The snow has not crusted, which means it is fresh.

And the clawed toes? Metlak. Many of them.

Jo-see’s in danger.

The flashing light I’d seen in my spyglass is a lot brighter the closer I get. It’s an exterior light of some kind, and blindingly bright, making me see spots every time it goes off. I shrug off a fur wrap and throw it over the light, only to hear my fur sizzling and the smell of burning leather. I quickly yank it off again. The light’s so hot the snow melts when it touches it. Well, that’s not a good sign.

I circle around the wreckage to give it a once-over. There’s snow piled up around it and so I can’t make out the shape, but the boxy end that’s torn open and sticking out of the snow? Yeah, that looks familiar. The mountains that looked like purple glass from a distance are clearly ice, and I’m amazed at the massiveness of them. This ice must be hundreds - or thousands - of years old to have formed mountains, and at the base, I see a tinge of green. Okay then, how did the ocean become green if these mountains are purple? I wish I knew. Maybe it’s algae or something. I’m not a scientist, so I can only guess. But the snow that falls is white, as are the drifts covering the craft, which tells me that this is definitely a recent addition to the landscape. I circle around it one more time, trying to determine how big it is. It’s not like the ancestor ship, which is a long, rounded oval as big as a shopping mall. This one’s more like a wedge, I think, and as long as a city block. Most of it is buried in snow except for the cargo end. If there was debris - or bodies - they were covered by the snow a long time ago.

I’m kind of glad for that. I don’t want to see a bunch of corpses sticking out of the snow. I shudder at the thought.

I approach the busted end of the spaceship that sticks out of the drifts. It’s tilted to the side and one end sticks out high from the snow, but the other end is climbable with a little effort, I think. “Hello?” I call out. “Anyone home?”

No answer. Not surprising, given the remoteness of the location or the fact that the ship’s crashed. If this was Kira’s ship, everyone was dead before the thing ever landed. I swallow hard at the thought, squeamish. I’ve seen TV shows with car accidents… I hope I’m not going to see corpse-splatters all over the inside of the ship. Or worse, corpse-splatter-popsicles. I press a mitten to my mouth and hurk a little.

But I’ve come this far. I need to keep going.

After the overheated flashing light, I worry that parts of the ship will be too hot to touch. I throw my fur wrap over the part I’ve designated as my point of entrance, and when it doesn’t sizzle, I climb in to the dark hollow pit. “Hello?”

No answer. No light, either. Crap. I retreat back out and attack one of the scrubby bushes nearby, taking twiggy limbs and ripping them off, then twisting them into a bundle. I hold my bundle against the flicking emergency light until it smokes and then lights up. It’s a crappy torch and drips embers everywhere, but it’ll do. I don’t plan on staying down there long. It gives me the creeps.

I crawl back into the busted hull carefully, torch in hand, and start to explore. I thought this was the cargo area, but apparently not. It’s a different part of the ship, and it looks like the entire thing is turned sideways. I’m in a narrow hall and standing on what was probably a space-window or something. There’s furniture and other small objects peppered on the floor, mixed in with debris, and I kick through it, looking for guns. The aliens that kidnapped us originally had guns that looked a lot like clubs the size of a rifle, and I could use one of those.

There’s a door half open ahead of me, and I hold my torch aloft, peering in.

Bodies. Lots of bodies, frozen in their seats. I stagger backward and retch, then get angry at myself for doing so. Of course there are bodies. Quit being so girly, Josie. I picture Haeden chastising me, but instead of filling me with irritation, I’m filled with wistful sadness. I wish he was here. He’d hold the torch and put an arm around me, and it wouldn’t matter that I’m a little girly and scared, because he’d be by my side. And he only needles me because he’s scared of how fragile I am.

The realization strikes me like a brick.

That’s why he’s so protective. That’s why he’s such a dick when I try to be independent and is constantly talking about how women should be protected. He’s scared someone’s going to die and then the remaining mate will have to suffer like he has.

Maybe I’ve been too mean to him.

I pick a different passageway and head through it, determined to be strong. It’s a dead end though, blocked by debris and slag and hanging cables. I can’t go further, so I turn around and look for the next passage.

A short time later, my torch is burning down to cinders in my hand and I haven’t found anything useful. Well, scratch that. I found a room that was private quarters, and the only things not rotted away were a small blanket made of a weird, plastick-feeling material and a cushion-like pillow made out of the same. I stuff them both into my bag even though I don’t know what I’m going to do with them. I decide to check one last hallway before heading out, because I’m determined to find something I can
use.

But the moment I step through the next doorway, I’m hit by old memories.

This is the cargo bay. Or was. There’s a hole in the ceiling that is letting light in, and there’s a light dusting of snow in the middle of the floor. The cargo bay’s contents are scattered everywhere, crates smashed and their contents destroyed. I swallow hard at the sight of this place. If I close my eyes, I can hear the crying, smell the unwashed bodies, see the faces of the guards as they leered at us…and more.

I bite the inside of my cheek until I no longer feel like screaming, or weeping. I’ve already cried over that, and I won’t give it more time in my head. I shake the bad memories away and focus on the good things. If this is the cargo bay, maybe there’s food. Maybe there’s supplies.

When I turn to the left, though, I see them.

Tubes.

Oh God.

I head toward the wall, trembling. There’s a thin coat of ice on it, and half of it is collapsed. I can barely make out three tubes. I brush a hand over the snow and ice and immediately amend my count. Two tubes. There’s nothing but scorched remains of the third, the wall crumpled away.
I hope you didn’t have an occupant.

When I smooth away the ice and snow over the next one, though, the green light flashes. I remember that light.

It means there’s someone inside.

“Shit. Fuck. Damn.” Saying the words aloud doesn’t make it any better, but it feels necessary. I run a hand over the next pod’s panel. Yellow lights flicking to green. I don’t know what that means, but I’m betting it also has an occupant. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”

This? This I’m going to cry over. I allow myself to burst into tears and sob.

Because now I have to go
back
.