J McKenna - Slave Planet

Her outstretched hand touched something rough. She expected a rock, but it wasn’t. Groggily, she looked up to see her hand resting at the base of a spindly tree. Kate looked around and saw more trees. She had made it to the treeline.

Shade!

Crawling now, she moved into the embrace of the trees, feeling the harsh sunlight thwarted in its efforts to burn her alive. She lay there for several minutes, letting the shade refresh her. Finally, the urgent signals from her brain reached her exhausted limbs— Water! You need water!

Groaning, she rolled the backpack off one shoulder and fumbled for the scanner. Holding it up, she checked for the nearest water source. Just one-half kilometer away. Without the sun flattening her, Kate thought she just might make it. Using a branch for support, she pulled herself upright and staggered on.

She no longer trusted her judgment or her sense of direction. Keeping the scanner in one hand, she moved through the trees like a pinball through a game, bouncing from one tree to another, always moving toward her goal. Kate felt the branches rip at her tee-shirt. She knew she was close now—she could smell moisture in the air. It was like a drug, invigorating her, intoxicating her. Kate came over the top of a ravine and looked down to a beautiful sight—a shallow stream, maybe ten feet wide, sluggishly moving through an ancient streambed.

Her mouth open in anticipation, Kate stumbled down the slope, dropped her backpack and scanner and flopped headlong into the lukewarm, delicious water. She didn’t care if it contained microbes or deadly parasites. She would have to take that chance. It was her salvation and she welcomed it. She drank and drank until her stomach hurt.

She lay a long time in the water, her face turned to the side to suck air. Her clothes—what little she had on—were soaked and she didn’t mind a bit. Finally, she dragged herself back to the shore. She sat under the shade of a large tree and thanked the stars that she had been given this reprieve. The idea of leaving this tiny paradise and walking back across the plain to the village was too painful to think about for the moment.

Kate picked up the scanner and checked her position. She was now thirty-one kilometers from the village. Her best route would be to travel south for about twenty-six klicks, staying close to water, then cut across the plain. She would pass by the pod and be able to check on its condition. For now, however, a rest was in order. She lay back her head and dozed.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when a noise startled her. Instantly she was alert, her hand dipping into her backpack to grasp her phaser. She looked up, trying to trace the source of the noise. Her eyes focused on the opposite bank. She sat up quickly, sucking in her breath.

A native woman was standing there, staring across the stream at her, a frightened look on her face. Perhaps she had come down for a drink and had seen the sleeping captain. The woman wasn’t naked like all the others Kate had seen from the photos. This one was wearing an animal skin that covered her breasts and another one wrapped around her waist. She was heavy-set, dark and hairy.

Kate wanted to run but felt paralyzed. The woman said something. Her odd language triggered Kate’s brain into action. She slipped her hand off of the pistol and found the Ute. She flicked the switch on the side. The woman repeated her call, but made no attempt to cross the stream.

The captain knew she was still too weak to escape. If the woman was traveling with men, Kate would have to fight her way out. Her hand found the reassuring butt of her phaser again and waited.

The woman turned and called out. From the trees came two other women, dressed similarly to the first. They stopped when they spotted the strange woman. Another one called out to Kate. This time, she felt she couldn’t ignore them.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand you,” she said. “As you can see, I’m not from around here.”

Her language floored the three women. Their voices were raised and in minutes, four other women came out of the trees. No men. That was strange. They not only stared at Kate, but they also looked in the trees up and down the river, as if expecting a trap.

That gave Kate a little hope. It was possible they might share the same enemy—the men who kidnapped her crew. She decided to try a little experiment.

Slowly, she stood and came closer to the edge of the stream, carrying her backpack with her. The women jabbered and backed up. Aha! They were more afraid of her than she was of them. Of course, if she were unarmed, she’d be terrified too.

“It’s OK,” she said, taking her hand out of her backpack and holding both arms up. “I come in peace.” I’ve always wanted to say that.

Now what? she wondered. Kate hesitated to cross the stream. Being surrounded by these women—all of whom seemed taller than her—would be intimidating. Certainly, they’d want to touch her, to feel her smooth skin and pluck at her strange clothes. They might try to grab her pack.

Kate knew it was all about attitude. If she acted afraid, they’d be superior. If she acted like the captain she was, however…

She squared her shoulders and waded across the stream. The women scattered. Some ran back into the trees, others fled up and down the water’s edge. Kate stopped moving immediately. She waited until they began creeping back toward her.

“It’s OK,” she said again. “Talk to me. My Ute needs to hear you.”

Cautiously, they came closer. One woman seemed braver than the rest and approached Kate. She stood about two inches taller than the captain. Her animal skins were adorned with shells that had been tied on with thin strips of bark. On her head, she wore some sort of helmet made out of sections of thick tree bark. It made her look medieval.

She spoke in that strange language. Kate shook her head, then shrugged. She didn’t even know if her gestures meant the same thing here. At least it’s a start.

Another idea occurred to her. She put her hand up to her mouth, feigning hunger. She had food in her pack, but if she could pretend to be lost and hungry, they might sit down with her long enough for the Ute to learn their language.

The woman slowly nodded. She stepped aside and indicated that Kate should accompany them. Kate fell in behind her and the group of women followed. They wound their way through the trees for about a kilometer until they came to a clearing. A firepit was set up in the center, surrounded by lean-tos. There were more women here. Again, no men.

Were they hiding out from the slave traders?

When they spotted Kate, their voices were raised, some in alarm. They surrounded her. As she had expected, they touched her clothes, brushed their hands over her smooth skin. When someone pulled at her backpack, she recoiled and said, “Don’t touch that!”

The shell woman spoke up and the women backed off. Kate nodded to herself—the woman was the leader. She wanted to learn her name. Kate got her attention. Patting her chest, she said, “Kate.” Then she reached out to her. “What’s your name?”

The woman nodded once and said, “ Sulala .”

“Sulala,” Kate repeated, nodding. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Sulala said a few words to two of the women and they scampered off toward one of the lean-tos. She indicated that Kate should sit near the fire. After the searing heat of the plain, the last thing she needed was a fire, but to be polite, she sat, albeit as far away from the flames as possible.

“Fire,” she said, pointing.

“ Hobatt ,” the woman said.

Kate reached into her backpack and found the Ute. Careful not to let them see it, she pressed the button to record the equivalencies. “Fire, Hobatt ,” she repeated. She and Sulala identified three other nouns and programmed them before the two women returned with food.