Chapter 5 - Prax #2
According to Azkarra, it was the Confederation’s Polarian faction that relocated Humans to Mars, and I was under the impression that this planet had been reserved exclusively for them.
And yet, it was clearly Bully—my former Penubian associate and full-blooded Coalition scum—who was loitering in orbit and shot me down here.
So yeah… Looks like the original directives from the Confederation regarding this solar system have been breached.
The real question is: how involved are the local Humans in all this?
Until I know for sure, I’ll keep my mouth shut and play dumb.
With a bit of luck, they’ll drop something useful about what the hell is really going on here.
She sits at the foot of the bed and waits for me to swallow the fragrant mix.
To be honest, it actually smells pretty good—and I’m starving—but this soup would’ve been so much better with a nice, juicy chunk of meat in the middle.
Cautiously, I dip my lips in.
It’s hot. It’s thick. It’s... bland.
The girl frowns when she sees the disappointment on my face.
“Sorry if it’s not to your taste,” she says. “But it’s all I’ve got left. You’ve been here for six days, and I haven’t had a chance to go back to Cydonia for more supplies. Drink it anyway. You need to get your strength back.”
The softness in her voice, the kindness in her demeanor—it slowly starts to put me at ease.
I don’t think this Human means me harm.
“Neela? You in there?” calls a man from another room.
“Yeah, I’m in the bedroom!” the little brunette answers.
Wait—Neela?
I thought Neela was, like… twelve.
A guy steps into the room, clearly a little on edge.
“Oh, so the kitty’s awake,” he comments.
“Be nice,” Neela scolds. “He’s still weak.”
At the word weak, I can’t help letting out a low growl.
“Easy now, it’s alright,” Neela soothes, placing her tiny hand on my forearm. “That’s just my brother, Kiran.”
Then she decides to introduce us the universal way.
“Kiran,” she says, pointing to him.
“Neela,” she adds, pointing to herself.
She goes through it again, then raises an eyebrow at me expectantly.
“Prax,” I rasp out, my voice hoarse and feeble.
“Prax?” she repeats to confirm.
I nod and go back to my meal.
To my shame, I can feel my strength draining fast.
I won’t last much longer without rest.
“Now that he’s awake,” Kiran says, “I’m going to tie him up.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Neela snaps. “Why are you so sure he’s a threat?”
“Look, little sister. You’re too soft and way too trusting.
We know the Regent’s been doing shady deals with species from other planets.
And in case it wasn’t obvious, this guy isn’t from around here.
So yeah—I say we tie him up and get him to spill everything he knows about whatever’s going down in the palace corridors. ”
Interesting.
So, there are things going on here—just as I suspected. Sounds like classic Bully tactics.
But if I go by what Kiran’s saying, he and his sister don’t seem to be on board with those backroom dealings.
Once I’ve finished my bowl, the little brunette grabs it and shoves it into her brother’s hands.
“Here, clean that up, will you? I’m going to help him lie back down.”
“Neela, now that this guy’s not unconscious anymore, you can’t just leave him lying naked in your bed. That’s... not appropriate!”
“And what exactly do you suggest? Gonna loan him one of your pairs of pants? Oh wait—nope. Too small. And I’m not even talking about the length.
And ordering a larger size is completely out of the question—we’d have to explain why. And we both agreed we’re keeping his presence secret for now, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe you could sign up for one of those crafting workshops? Wouldn’t surprise anyone if you messed up the sizing.”
“What a great idea. You go ahead and do that! Especially since you’re off next week—I’m the one working.”
Kiran’s face darkens at the reminder.
“Speaking of which, what are you planning to do with him now that he’s conscious? He can’t just stay here alone.”
“Why not? What exactly are you afraid of? That he’ll plow through my lentil supply in a day? Even if he did, he needs to rebuild his strength—he hasn’t eaten properly in days. The broths I managed to get into him don’t really count.”
“Well, since we’re on the subject, his presence raises another issue: your rations are meant for one person. Even your hydroponic garden can’t sustain a second mouth. Same goes for water and showers. How are you planning to handle that?”
Ah, crap.
Didn’t even think about that this morning while I was washing up—that I’d be stealing her one daily pleasure. Oops.
“I’m working at the med unit next week. There’s a backup shower there for emergencies. I’ll wash there. And if I really have to, I’ll melt some snow and do things the old-school way.”
Snow?
In a flash, I remember the crash, the frozen lake, the mountain almost entirely cloaked in white. Sure, showers in the Confederation are all set to a strict three-minute limit—that’s the max duration based on spacecraft recycling capacity.
There’s no water in space. Nothing is lost, nothing is created. Shower water gets reclaimed from... other bodily fluids, purified and reused. That’s how the limits were calculated and why the cycles are standardized.
These same restrictions apply to terraforming worlds—since water is life, and wasting it is out of the question.
But if Mars has snow in abundance? That restriction starts to feel pretty pointless.
As soon as I’m able, I’ll lift that limitation on the shower in this place. I’ve worked with enough Confederation systems to know exactly how they’re programmed—and how to reprogram them.
“Alright, we’ll play it by ear,” Kiran says, giving in. “I’ll try to bring you some extra supplies.”
“Absolutely not,” Neela snaps. “There’s no way you’re taking food from your family. We don’t even know if our food’s compatible with him.”
The little Human’s right. If her plan is to slowly poison me—or torture me like her brother suggested—all she needs to do is keep feeding me boiled vegetables.
A clean crime. No evidence.
To my utter dismay, a yawn slips out of me, and my whole body stretches out, aching for a proper nap.
“Come on,” Kiran says, sighing. “Let the cat-man finish his night. We’ll talk in the other room.”
If I were at full strength, I’d try to eavesdrop.
But I’m exhausted. Worn out. Drained.
And ashamed of it, I let sleep take me again.