9. Stromm
9
STROMM
Outside the South Caves, I pause before entering. This is where I nearly perished.
My thoughts relive moments from the past: Standing guard while the Terran females hide inside. The pain of being shot with the laser weapon. Feeling my life slip away while Em-ul-lee cries out my name. Knowing I can do nothing to stop her from being carried away.
The memories linger in my body as well as my mind, in the ache beneath my scars, in the way my shoulders tense as I step inside. The walls seem closer now, the space tighter than I remember. A sense of unease moves up my spine, an instinctive alertness warning me that danger could be near.
I exhale forcibly, shaking out my arms, pushing the memories away. There is no reason to be on edge this day. The only people inside the caves are Gee-uh and Lukka. The Terran female, who is good at making things, has set up a workshop inside the abandoned space.
She moves between piles of materials, picking items up and putting them on the table where she is constructing the body armor. Nearby, Lukka inspects a pile of stiffened hides.
“Bring me one of those pieces,” Gee-uh says to him. “A large one.”
Lukka frowns, picking up one of the leather pieces. “They are too rigid.”
“It needs to be tough and durable.” Gee-uh does not up from her work. “If you have a better idea, feel free to share it.”
Lukka turns the leather over in his large hands, then grudgingly nods. “Fine. This will do.”
I remain silent, watching them work. It appears the construction is coming along well. This should give me satisfaction because wearing the armor will bring me closer to my goals. Yet part of me is angry that I need it at all.
Sartok called it self-pity, and he is right.
Gee-uh spots me watching and waves me over. “Stromm, good. You’re here. I need you to try this on.”
She tries to pick up the armor, a vest-like structure with two metal plates hanging from leather straps, yet it is too heavy. “Give me a hand, Lukka.”
Lukka lifts one side while Gee-uh lifts the other. “The armor is too heavy,” he says. “Stromm will not be able to move well while wearing it.”
“I am getting stronger every day,” I argue. “Let me see how it fits.”
They hoist the heavy vest over my head and place the straps on my shoulders. My knees nearly buckle from the added weight.
Gee-uh looks disappointed. “I hate to say it, but Lukka is right. This design won’t work.”
Lukka grins, happy that the Terran female agrees with him, yet oblivious to the disappointment she and I share.
“Let’s get it off.” I share Gee-uh’s frustration.
We all struggle to remove the armor and get it back on the table.
“Is there any way to make it lighter?” I ask.
“Not really. I can’t hammer the metal any thinner without risking its integrity. And if I make the plates smaller, they won’t give you adequate protection.” She shakes her head, yet I can tell she is already thinking of other possibilities. “We could remake it using just leather. It wouldn’t be true armor then, but it would still give you some protection.” She does not seem excited about this alternate plan.
Hope fades that the armor would return some version of my old self, the feeling settling in my chest like a stone sinking into deep water.
I need another way to protect myself and my future family.
After swallowing the lump that forms in my throat, I force myself to say the words I am thinking. “I must learn how to shoot a laser weapon.”
Silence falls over the cave. Gee-uh looks thoughtful, already accepting this new plan. Lukka, however, stiffens like I just cursed our ancestors’ souls.
His black eyes narrow. “You cannot be serious.”
I hold his gaze, shoulders squared. “I am as serious as the wounds I still carry.”
Scowling, he says, “You would betray the traditions of our people for your own self purpose?”
I cross my arms over my chest, steadfast in my decision. “I would adapt in order to survive. That is what Jill-ee-un suggested.”
I am offering you a way to adapt, to thrive on this dangerous planet instead of just surviving.
“Our ancestors made the choice to fight with blades and spears.” Lukka’s tone is harsh, which is unlike his usual bite-less arguing. “They shunned the modern weapons that destroyed our homeworld.”
My temper flares. “How many of our ancestors perished at the hands of rogues because their blades were not enough?”
Lukka’s jaw tightens, his stance shifting. “At least they perished with honor. You simply refuse to accept your fate, Stromm.”
The challenge in his tone grates against my raw emotions. “You do not understand, Lukka. Unlike me, you are still whole.”
Conflict shows in Lukka’s expression, his eyes conveying what words do not. Thoughts of my betrayal war with his sympathy for my plight.
“If I want a mate, a family, I must adapt,” I tell him. “There is no other choice.”
My words settle heavily between us, like the discarded armor on the table.
“Jillian’s right,” Gee-uh says, breaking the tension between me and my Rakui brother. “Since the armor won’t work, Stromm needs another mode of protection.” Lukka remains silent for once, letting the Terran speak. “If you plan to carry a gun, I can make a wide leather holster that will give your abdomen a layer of protection while keeping the weapon within easy reach.”
I consider this. A gun belt that offers protection and function. “It is worth a try.”
Lukka grunts. “If Stromm must carry a modern weapon, this seems like a good solution.”
Gee-uh grins, rubbing her hands together. “Great. Then let’s get to work.” She gestures toward the heavy vest. “Clear the table, Lukka, and grab more of that leather. If you want this done fast, Stromm, we need you to help.”
I nod, ready to work. Like my ancestors’ fighting traditions, the armor has failed me. Yet I have another way forward. And I am willing to take the next steps.