Page 6 of 20% Blood 80%
With a determination I hadn’t known I was capable of, I lurched to my feet. Sweat broke out on my brow as I attempted to compartmentalize the pain. There would be time to moan after I sank my fangs into a willing Boola brother or sister at the station.
Once I was out of the shelter of the cockpit and the building’s wreckage, sand blasted my exposed skin, stinging it like a thousand tiny needles. Every gritty breath I took made me cough and choke. I debated returning for the protection of my helmet. But the thought of putting that cesspit back over my head sent my stomach reeling. Instead, I cut a couple of slits in the fabric over my mouth and tugged it up to cover my entire face, then squinted into the dust.
Sola’s blaze, the containment unit… Where the hell is it?
Forget about the stupid containment unit. Where in hellfire is the research station? Or Tern’s capital city?
I staggered to the right and hoped my sense of direction wasn’t as messed up as my leg. A twisted length of plasmasteel stuck out of the sand ahead, and I braced myself against it to catch my breath. The gale-force winds sent an icy chill through my body, and my hands began to tingle.
My gaze dropped to my wristport when it chimed, as it did every sun. My wristport! Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier? My brother would laugh at my incompetence, not understanding how I took it to heart, and use it to add to his dumb-brother jokes. That was, if I ever saw him again.
I frantically commed my brother—nothing. Then Thermal Station C—nothing. And when I powered the unit down and restarted it, a blinking ‘No signal available’ notification overrode all the messaging systems. Wonderful.
But by the goddess Sola’s light, a little dot blinked when I flicked to the nav program. Thermal Station C’s location. I closed my eyes and sighed.
Focusing on the blinking path now dotting my wristport, I yanked the length of busted plasmasteel out of the ground and used it to take some of my weight as I hopped forward with renewed determination. Sand beat at me with each painful step. I’d never visited Tern in the cold season before, but I didn’t remember hearing it described as stormy.
What seemed like an eternity later, another chime sounded from my wristport. I frowned. How had I only been walking for one sun? I leaned against the plasmasteel rod so hard I thought I might topple over. Despite the shirt around my face, sand clung to my lips and pooled in my ears. My limbs felt as if they’d been filled with rocks, and mustering the energy to move forward was rapidly becoming a losing battle. The desire to lie down and nap was taking the lead.
But knowing the research station would have a healing blood source drove the wild part of me forward; the predator that formed the core ofall Boolas. My boots shifted in the sand, and I carried on, despite the fact that the research station appeared no closer on the wristport.
The last time I’d been at the research station on Tern, D’iver had been with me. He’d pointed out the tiny, over air-conditioned room with the hard-backed chairs and blacked-out windows that visiting Boola fed in, and we’d both shuddered.
It had always bothered me that my species had chosen to hide their need for blood for fear of being seen as lesser. Driven by bloodlust rather than brains. I hated that my need for blood made me weak and vulnerable. Why should I be ashamed of my true nature? I’d always hoped that one rotation, I wouldn’t have to hide that part of myself.
The truth was, Boola only needed blood once a month unless injured. Like a charge on a drained battery, the new blood reactivated the old. And, like me, most Boolas lived with extended family until they found their blood mates, because sharing blood created close bonds. I hoped the Boola at the research station wasn’t some old, shriveled-up yak.
Throat dry and tongue swollen with thirst, I’d give my useless leg for a container of water in this moment. But I needed blood to heal and to restore what I’d lost.
I scowled into the distance, willing Thermal Station C to appear, but the longer I stared at the churning horizon, the more disoriented I became. The sun-passing chime dinged again. Blant, how long had I been standing here drifting in a dreamworld? I couldn’t see a thing and my limbs were numb. Tremors in my legs let me know I’d been stopped for a while, and the arm holding the makeshift staff wobbled as I struggled to maintain my grip.
Why would the goddess Sola gift me another chance at living only to have me die in the middle of a freezing sandstorm?
I’m not blanting smart enough to figure this out.
If my brother were in my place, he’d have us out of this fix by now. D’iver wouldn’t blindly march to his death.Think! Think! What am I missing?I just needed a little rest. To sit down for a while.
Pain shot through my leg, like the stabbing tentacles of the prized underwater Toona at home, as I bent my knee to sit. Blood seeped through my pants, the warm stickiness a grim reminder of the danger I faced.
Though I trembled, I was glad for the pain. It let me know I was still alive. As I slowly lowered myself to the ground, a sheet of loose sand gave way beneath my good leg, sending me toppling forward. Agonizing pain ripped through my thigh as I grasped for a handhold. I cried out, unable to stop my roll down the steep slope.
It was as if someone had come along, scooped out all the sand and decided to push me into the hole. Or as if a giant blanting meteorite had crash-landed.
I threw my arms out, trying to slow the momentum, but didn’t come to a stop until I’d reached the bottom of the basin. In the distance, I imagined I heard a voice yelling, but the dizziness made my head so fuzzy I couldn’t tell up from down.
Tepid water met my lips and dribbled down my chin, bringing me back to reality.
A muffled voice came from near my head on the right, and even though distorted, the rich and velvety tones distracted me from the wrenching pain for a moment. “That was quite a tumble.”
“It hurts,” I whined to the stranger. Memories of my mata flooded my mind, as if her spirit was guiding me.Trust your instincts,she’d always said. Don’t let anyone take advantage of your kindness.
“I don’t doubt that for one minute.” It sounded like the owner of the voice might have been smiling.
I swiped at my grimy eyes with the backs of my hands, the little protection my shredded shirt had offered long gone. When I opened them again, an Earther male came into focus. As he crouched beside me, his long golden ponytail whipped in the wind. His face was covered with an oxy tank mask, and his wide shoulders stretched his synth-fabric coat. Even through the cloudy mask he wore, his eyes—sky blue, like on my home planet D’ulanna—seemed kind. My instincts said he was trustworthy.
I accepted the water container he held out and swished out my mouth before drinking half. “Thanks.” The wind was calmer inside the shifting sand of the crater, but I could only make out one set of tracks and no hovercraft. “Please tell me there’s a rescue party coming?” My teeth chattered, and the thought of standing, let alone walking, almost brought tears to my eyes.
Laugh lines spread from his eyes behind the oxy mask. “There’s a rescue party coming.”
