Chapter 8 Scythro
It’s well past middleday when I finally reach the tar pit.
No doubt about it, this is where that small spacecraft came down.
Looks like it skidded for several draths before finally coming to a stop. And the thing that stopped it was a tar pit. There’s a deep furrow leading straight up to the rim, and then… blip! Nothing at all. Just a few sluggish bubbles and some half-sunken vwar ribs.
Shame. I was kind of hoping that crazy little ship might be my ticket off this stupid rock. No such luck. It’s resting now under several veks of tar. It won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
And neither, I suppose, will I.
That’s not where the story ends, however.
Something made it out of the craft before it sank.
Something small and light. The tracks it left in the dust are so shallow, I almost didn’t see them at first. Good thing there’s not much of a breeze right now, otherwise they would have been erased before I got here.
Whatever made the tracks is a biped. A small one, judging by the spacing and size.
If I had a Znthian’s tongue, I might be able to figure out the species from the scent alone, but we Hassaith are not known for our sense of smell.
Touch is where we excel. Once upon a time, my fingers earned me a fair bit of money in the pleasure houses of Flayrn, back when I was still a free man.
And they’ve gotten me into a fair bit of trouble since coming to Ul.
I stoop and gently trace my fingertips over one of the tracks, carefully studying the shape. It is delicate work. A mere breath could blow the ashes away.
The sole is oblong, the heel round. There’s an arch in the middle, then two softer lobes near the front. The five toes are not opposable.
Five toes?
What species has five toes?
I lean back and stare off into the sky while my mind runs through all the various aliens I have slept with over the cycles. Shuura have five toes, but longer, and webbed. Moteans as well, but they’re much, much bigger than this. Orid? No… the shape is all wrong.
I run my fingers over the tracks again. Such dainty little things.
I do believe I’d like to meet the fellow who made them.
I lift my eyes and follow the line of tracks off into the distance. They’re heading straight for all that thick, black smoke I saw earlier. The storm that wasn’t a storm. Huh.
Strange things are afoot on Ul.
Literally.
The wind’s starting to pick up now, and an ash cloud is blowing in from the east, rolling across the barren landscape like a giant gray blob. It’s going to cut right across where the tracks are leading.
Can I catch up with the mystery creature before that happens?
Only one way to find out.