Chapter 17 - Prax
I pack for our departure with speed and efficiency.
My backpack already holds a change of clothes for both of us and a few nutrition bars I rescued from the Bakartia’s wreckage.
I’ll keep both my weapons close at hand.
To save space, I skip the water purifier—melted snow will do.
I do, however, grab my mini solar oven. It'll help cook whatever prey I catch along the way. Of course, I don’t say any of this to my sensitive little Human, but if we don’t find anything else to eat, she’ll have to get used to meat.
I figure it’ll go down easier cooked than raw.
“Here, take this,” I tell her, handing her the container. “Fill it with whatever you can from your greenhouse. Pick things that aren’t too fragile and are high in calories. And eat as much as you can right now, too.”
She studies me briefly, then nods and rushes off to her garden. I’m not entirely sure she’s realized we’ll both be riding her snowmobile—and space will be tight. She’s quick, though, and comes back with a wrinkled expression.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I didn’t know what to bring! I packed a bit of everything that was ripe and wouldn’t take up too much space. This container’s way too small!” she grumbles.
“I could be wrong,” I tell her, trying to ease her mind, “but I think some of the temporary shelters between here and Arabia Terra might have stocked gardens. I can’t promise anything, but it’s a possibility.”
She gives me a grateful smile. I mentally kick myself for not bringing up the whole meat issue—but hey, I’ll deal with that later.
Time’s ticking, and we need to move out before full nightfall.
Chances are that Vassili sends someone first thing tomorrow to finish Marjorie’s dirty work. I want to be far from here by then.
Before we left, I made sure to broadcast Neela’s photos across every screen in Cydonia. Weapons. Animal remains next to incinerators. That should give the colonists something to talk about and, hopefully, draw attention away from us for at least a day or two.
The snowmobile’s saddlebags are full, and I’ve strapped our sleeping pod on top. Now I just wait for Neela. She finally appears at the threshold with a small extra bag. I’m ready to protest until I recognize her medical satchel. Fair enough.
My little Human is all bundled up—good girl.
She remembered we need to ride for at least two hours before stopping.
The temperature has already dropped sharply, but the swirling winds have died down, which should make our journey easier.
Plus, Phobos—the larger of Mars’s two moons—is bright enough to light our way.
I’ve studied our route carefully. I’ve got a good sense of direction when I’m on foot, but with this machine, I’ll need to stay sharp. We’ll have to navigate around obstacles the snowmobile can’t cross.
She pauses at the snowmobile and glances back at her house. I don’t want her eyes misting over again like earlier, so I call out,
“Come on, Purrsong, hop on and hold on tight. This is gonna be a Mars road trip like nothing you’ve ever known!”
She climbs on behind me, and I fire up the engine heading east. About 25 miles out, we’ll hit the edge of the Human-designated zone—and I have no intention of stopping before then.
An hour later, despite the cold burning through even our thermal gear, we’ve made it.
Unlike downtown Cydonia where geothermal wells bring magma heat to the surface, this boundary is marked with fork-like heat rods placed every 300 feet.
On one side: Human territory. On the other: reserved for terrestrial animals.
The good news? The air near the rods is noticeably warmer.
It smells like minerals—a mix of sulfur and soil.
Steam rises from the ground like the planet’s exhaling, and where it touches the freezing air, condensation dances like breath.
Yellow-white sulfur crystals form at the base of the rods, and heat-loving algae cover the rocks in vibrant green carpets.
It clashes brilliantly with the red and orange hues that dominate Mars.
I feel Neela tense behind me as we cross this invisible line. I drive another 150 feet past a cluster of pine trees and stop.
“We’ll camp here. Tomorrow morning, I’ll scout the site a few miles out. I think that’s where Bully lands his ship when he comes to see Vassili.”
“What about me?” she asks, worried.
“You’ll stay in the pod—safe. I’ll leave you a weapon. Don’t argue. You won’t have to use it, just wave it if someone finds you—which I doubt. I’ll move faster and quieter on my own.”
“But I…”
“Purrsong, even if this place is slightly warmer, we’re still in the snowy zone. Let’s get set up and we’ll talk once we’re out of this freezing wind.”
She watches me unfold the sleeping pod, puzzled.
Clearly, she’s never camped outside a climate-controlled habitat.
The material is incredible—thermoregulating, waterproof.
It’ll shield us from damp and cold and keep our body heat inside, while filtering out stale air and bringing in fresh.
As long as no beast bothers us, we’ll sleep great.
Technically, the pod should be suspended in the air to avoid predators. But I’m cold, lazy, and a predator myself. I don’t know how effective that’ll be against bigger threats, but I’ll mark the area to warn them off.
I settle it near a large tree and motion for her to climb in.
“Um… like this?” she asks.
“Of course like this. What, you planning to sleep standing up?”
“No, obviously not. But… are we sleeping fully dressed?”
“Purrsong, I’ll be honest. Nothing would please me more than sliding in here naked with you.
But this place isn’t safe. I need to be able to spring out and fight off whatever comes—man or beast. And I’d rather not do that with my assets swinging in the breeze.
So yes, we’re staying dressed. Don’t worry, though—I’m definitely keeping your suggestion in mind for later. ”
“I didn’t suggest any—”
“Shh!” I cut her off. “Let’s not advertise our position to the local wildlife.”
Like a good girl, she obeys and lies down without a word. No need to tell her that I fully intend to make her mine when the time’s right. I want it. She wants it—even if she denies it. Her eyes, her scent, her heartbeat, her whole body whispers anticipation. But now’s not the time.
After scent-marking the perimeter, I slip into the pod and seal it. The fabric responds to pressure, thickening and stiffening beneath us, smoothing out bumps in the ground.
She falls asleep instantly. I drift in and out, listening.
A feline came sniffing the area where I marked. It left without me needing to growl, which is good—my growl might’ve woken her.
I wake to nature stirring. Birds chirp, sunlight filters through the branches. I hear small rodents nearby. My eyes fall on Neela, still asleep.
Her hair spills around her face like Sadjim forest vines, deep brown waves framing delicate features that beg to be kissed.
Long lashes brush her cheeks, lips parted like they’re whispering secrets.
She's stunning. And somehow, she makes my heart pound harder than Ileana ever did. Neela’s innocent, but not na?ve.
Her world collapsed, yet she’s facing it all with strength—without giving up her ideals.
Reluctantly, I ease out of the pod, making sure she’s secure, then renew my scent marks before heading off.
I move fast and silent. I don’t want to leave her alone too long. In minutes, I reach my target.
No surprise—it’s a hangar built from cheap composite panels. Definitely Coalition work. The Confed wouldn’t touch this stuff. The clearing next to it can fit at least two six-person ships.
Inside are two ground vehicles—fully Confed-made. Opaque cabins, four seats, and cargo space. Perfect for a more comfortable ride.
I scout the rest of the hangar and grab anything useful: a water container, some Coalition ration packs. No comm wall to reach Kiran, unfortunately. He’ll have to wait.
I check the solar charge—full. Excellent. I head back.
When I pull up, Neela’s just waking. Her eyes widen at the vehicle. I give her the rundown.
“You think we can take this?” she asks.
“My dear, no one will miss it—except maybe Bully’s buddies.
Clearly, he doesn’t come here alone, and Vassili probably gave him these.
They might be slower than your snowmobile, but they’ll shelter us better.
That said, help me load the snowmobile. Never know what’ll happen—I like having options. Eat something. We’re moving out.”
She presses her lips together. I get it. I miss showers too. Before we left, I uploaded a static map of Cydonia and Arabia Terra to her tablet. No GPS, but if I can locate some relay points, maybe we’ll get lucky.
The ride’s long. I don’t know the terrain, so I’m careful. I stop often to reorient. We’re skirting the Human zone’s outer border, heading south. I’ve got a rocky peak in sight—our best landmark. At its base should be a shelter and recharge station. Hopefully.
The mood in the cabin slowly lightens. Neela starts asking questions about the worlds I’ve seen. I pull out my wildest stories to distract her from darker thoughts.
After two hours, I stop. I’ve spotted movement—likely small game. I need to eat. So does she. She gives me a questioning look. I sigh.
“I saw some prey. I have to eat. You should too—dig into your rations. Stay in the vehicle.”
Her perfect little mouth opens to object, then closes. She’s learning.
I strip down to pants and a weapon, then head off.
It doesn’t take long to track down the little rodents. They’re fat, fluffy things—basically round furballs with eyes and a nose. Two pop out of their burrow. I strike, quick and clean.
I skin and gut them expertly. Now the dilemma: eat them raw—not tasty—or ask Neela to empty the solar oven and answer awkward questions. Nope. I eat them here.
I’m halfway through the second when every hair on my body bristles. I freeze. Something’s wrong. I hear a low growl—not feline, not wolf.
I bolt uphill and spot the scene from a rocky outcrop. Wind whistles, carrying pine and damp earth—and a stench that can only be one thing.
Neela’s cornered, pale with fear. Towering over her is a massive brown bear, way bigger than me. Shaggy fur, claws like knives.
I raise my pistoblaster, but she’s right in my line of fire. One wrong move…
The bear sniffs the air and locks eyes with me. Yeah, buddy, I know—I stink. I haven’t showered either. Thanks for the reminder.
It roars, irritated. I roar back—my loudest. No effect, but it shifts slightly toward me. Good.
From the corner of my eye, I see Neela edging toward the vehicle. Perfect. I leap and fire.
Click.
Damn it. Jammed.
The bear slams me down, drooling in my face. Smells worse than me! I claw its muzzle. It bites my flank. Shit, that hurts!
My blaster’s out of reach. The beast’s furious. It rears up—about to finish me—
And suddenly collapses.
On me.
All 900 pounds of him.
I can’t breathe. I squirm under his dead weight.
“Oh gods, I killed him!” Neela cries, rushing over to help me push him off.
Bit by bit, we manage. My side burns—four deep punctures.
“You’re bleeding!” she gasps.
“Let’s get in the vehicle. That bear’s gonna wake up soon.”
“Wake up?!”
“Yeah, Confed pistoblasters have settings: mild pain, moderate, intense, sleep—and a lethal mode no one uses. Yours was on mild. Mine was on sleep. Oops. Let’s move before he does.”
We climb in and drive. My wound throbs, blood soaking my fur.
“Stop the car. Now,” she orders.
“We’ve got another hour before the shelter—if we find it.”
“I’m not going another mile until I clean that wound!”
I stop. She’s already got her med kit and a cloth soaked in something awful.
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
“Disinfecting. Who knows where that bear’s been? Those claws are probably full of bacteria.”
“Unnecessary. I’m fine.”
“In your dreams! I’m the doctor here—and that wound needs cleaning!”
I sigh and let her approach with the foul cloth. On Sadjim, we’d lick wounds clean, but I doubt she’d appreciate that right now.
“Ow! Damn it, that stings!” I hiss.
“Oops, forgot to warn you. It’s clean now. You’ll need stitches later—narrow but deep punctures. For now, I’ll just bandage it.”
As she leans in, inspecting my side, my body responds on its own.
“Bandage? Purrsong, I’m already dealing with some... very noticeable swelling.”
She glances up, puzzled. Then down. Her eyes widen. A wicked smile curves her lips—and she pours more of that evil liquid right into the wound.
“You were still bleeding,” she says sweetly.
I grit my teeth and say nothing as she wraps me in fresh bandages. Once done, we get back on the road.
In silence.
Mostly.