Chapter 5 - Prax
I run with a smooth, feline stride across the long sandy plain. It’s particularly hot this morning—way hotter than a typical summer day on Sadjim. My breathing is short, my heart pounding like a war drum.
I come to an abrupt stop and try to catch my breath. Bent forward, I watch my toes sink into the red sand. Red? That’s odd… the soil on my home planet is black, not red.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” asks a man’s voice suddenly—probably my father’s.
“Leave him be. Can’t you see he’s sick? Help me move him to the bedroom instead,” a woman replies.
Wait, I’m sick?
That explains the awful feeling coursing through my body. Now that I think about it, my head is throbbing, and I’m fighting the urge to throw up.
My father mustn’t find out I’m unwell. To him, being sick means being weak—and weakness? He hates that more than anything. A Sadjim is supposed to be ruthless at all times, never letting any sign of fragility show.
To my utter shame, I feel myself being lifted and carried. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids weigh a ton.
They finally set me down. The smell in the room is fresher, less woody than my childhood bedroom. Where the hell have they taken me? I try to sit up. Useless. None of my limbs respond.
“We should tie him up,” my father mutters again.
“For what?” the woman asks. “You can see he’s completely harmless!”
“That’s what you think. What if he wakes up? What if he attacks you? Have you seen the size of him?”
“You’re annoying. I told you, I’m not in danger. He’ll be like this for days—completely powerless. Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled.”
Powerless? Me? Just kill me now.
“I’d feel better if he wasn’t here with you.”
“And what exactly do you suggest? I dump him in the middle of nowhere and let him die slowly?”
“I didn’t say that,” my father replies weakly.
No surprise there. I’m pretty sure the old man would rather see me dead than weakened.
“Maybe you could take care of him then?”
“Absolutely not!” he blurts out, horrified.
See? What did I tell you? The man loathes weakness.
“That’s settled then. He stays here, and I’ll look after him until he regains a bit of strength. Then we’ll figure it out.”
“You’re not serious! How do you plan to do that? He’s gonna need feeding, cleaning, help with his... basic needs.”
“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of taking care of him?”
“That’s not what I said, but... he’s naked!”
“Oh, come on. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“But Neela, he’s not a baby or an old man—he’s a grown male. This isn’t like usual!”
Neela? Wait... that’s not my mother’s name.
So who the hell is this Neela, and what’s she doing in the house with my father?
If my mother finds out he’s cheating, she’ll tear him to shreds—literally.
Sadjims may be flirty until they bond for life, but once that bond’s forged, nothing can come between them. At least, in theory.
“Ohhh, I get it!” the female teases. “Is this about my patient’s... masculinity?”
“You’re being ridiculous! That’s not what’s bothering me.”
“Then what is?”
“Okay, fine! You’re my little sister, and this guy is... extremely well built. Did you see that?!”
“I most certainly did. Nothing to complain about, if you ask me…”
“Neela, stop! I don’t want to hear this coming from my twelve-year-old sister!” he snaps.
“Twelve and a half!” she protests sweetly.
Oh, for the love of—this is a disaster. I’m at the mercy of a twelve-year-old with roving eyes, and I’m so sick I can’t even lift my head. I vaguely remember leaving Sadjim years ago… or was it yesterday? I’m completely lost—adrift in time and space.
Flashes of my father, my uncle, my cousins... their brutality, their rigidity. I remember fleeing Sadjim on a whim in the ship I won in a dice game. Then meeting Bully, teaming up with him.
Bully... I can still picture his cruel grin as he sent me crashing onto this red planet. Is that where I am now?
I black out before I can answer the question.
***
A cool, damp tongue on my burning forehead pulls me from whatever hell dimension I’ve been drifting through. I’m lost again. I have no idea where I am, how I got here, or how long it’s been. My nose tells me it’s been too long. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s poor hygiene. I reek.
“Mom, help me take a shower, please,” I murmur toward the gentle hand tending to me.
“Sorry, I don’t speak your language,” a voice replies.
That’s weird—I understand her just fine.
“Ileana?” I ask, unsure.
“Ileana? Is that your girlfriend’s name? Sorry to disappoint—I’m just Neela. Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”
I want to reply, but I’m already slipping back into unconsciousness.
***
A loud rumble snaps me awake. I’m no more lucid than before, but my keen hearing doesn’t lie—something’s off. A foreign sound breaks the calm of the room.
I try to lift my eyelids—and yes, finally, success.
I scan my surroundings. Just one bed. The space is modest, the walls a translucent green—the kind the Confederation uses.
It must be daytime, because the opacity’s been reduced by half, letting in sunlight.
Through the walls, I spot a figure moving in the vegetation outside.
Snippets of recent memories surface. I’m in the bedroom of a twelve-year-old girl.
I lean into the sheets, sniffing for her scent to be able to recognize her. Instead, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. All I smell is me—and it’s not pleasant.
I try sitting up. My heart pounds like I’ve just done fifty push-ups. What the hell?
Whatever. I need a shower. Now. Even if it kills me.
Thinking uses less energy than moving, so I try to figure out where the bathroom is.
Got it—left wall, subtle icon indicating the hygiene room.
I lift the sheet and yep, I’m completely naked.
I’m torn between being mad at the kid for violating my privacy and relieved I don’t have to go through the exhausting process of undressing.
I take a deep breath and push off the bed.
Two things surprise me: I feel light, like gravity’s taking a day off, and the short walk takes no effort.
Must be a side effect of lower gravity. On the downside, I’m breathing like I’ve run a mile.
Then I remember Azkarra’s briefing: Mars has low oxygen.
That explains my rapid breathing. It should pass once my body adjusts.
The rumble again—ah, that’s just my stomach. Right. I’m starving.
Still, pride comes before food. I enter the sleek hygiene chamber and start the shower.
Water. Sweet, glorious water.
I steady myself on the wall.
“There you are!” chirps a voice behind me, completely unfazed by my nudity.
I glare and watch her drop a towel on the sink.
“Don’t give me that look. I know you don’t understand me, but I’m doing my best, okay?”
I ignore her and savor every last second of the shower.
As expected, just like all Confederation systems, the water shuts off automatically after three minutes.
“Sorry, that’s it for today,” she says. “Not your fault—it’s just how the system works. Water’s precious here, we have to ration it.”
She holds the towel out. Her heart rate spikes as her eyes wander across my body.
Another glare from me.
I still don’t know who she is or why she barged in. Is she Neela’s mother? Too young for that. A sister, maybe? Then why leave me in the care of a child?
Under my less-than-welcoming stare, she takes a step back, clearly nervous.
“I wasn’t checking you out! Or... barely!” she blurts. “Ugh, what am I even saying? You don’t speak French anyway, so I don’t have to apologize to you.”
She folds her arms, rallying.
“After all, you’re in my home. You slept in my bed. You just used up my daily ration of non-potable water. So yeah—if I wanna stare, I’ll stare. And I’d be stupid not to, because you, my friend, are one absolutely delicious specimen.”
She throws that last bit like a challenge, chin high.
“So there. Do with that what you will.”
I raise a brow, amused despite myself, and finally take a proper look at her. Maybe 5'6", about 8 inches shorter than me. Her caramel skin looks soft, her full lips and deep black eyes match her delicate dark hair. She shifts under my gaze.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed. That little energy burst won’t last long, I promise. Your vitals aren’t stable yet. Then again, I don’t know what normal looks like for a half-human, half-feline species. My gut says you’ll crash again soon.”
At the word “weak,” I growl low in my throat.
“Easy there, big guy. I mean you no harm. Friend! Friend!” she says soothingly. “Let me get you some soup. Hopefully it’s something your species can eat.”
The worst part? She’s right. Exhaustion creeps back in.
When I return to the room, she’s changing the foul-smelling sheet with a clean one from the bathroom. I’m beyond grateful. I couldn’t have laid down in that stench again, even if it was mine.
I flop onto the bed with a sigh. My breathing is ragged. Damn, I feel ancient.
The little Human leaves for a bit. I sit up and wrap the towel around my waist—gotta keep a shred of dignity. But where the hell’s my pants?
She comes back with a steaming bowl. My stomach growls again. One whiff tells me there’s zero animal protein in there.
“Here. Coral lentil and carrot soup. It’ll help you recover—high in iron and fiber. Perfect for what you’re going through.”
Seriously? She thinks a bowl of vegetable mush is going to bring me back from the brink?
Is she serious?
She really thinks a handful of seeds floating in warm water is gonna be enough for me?
I still don’t recognize the language she’s using, but I know it’s not one of the ones spoken by the Coalition.
Doesn’t matter though—I understand her perfectly well.
Like every member of the Confederation, I’ve got a neural implant that lets me instantly process and use any language already analyzed and stored by the AI.