Chapter 9
- Callie -
“Why?” I ask, knowing that his answer will determine a lot of what I do from now on.
“We will go to the Plood ship,” Crat'ax rumbles.
“But not tomorrow. The splix could run at any time. I must be here for that. It will take two days to get to the Plood ship, because of the current. It is much slower going that way than back here again. After the splix run, and after the trade day with the other tribes, we will go. You and I. Nobody else will come.”
I understand most of the words, and the others I can mostly guess. The boys eagerly taught me a lot of their language, completely without judgement.
It’s not the answer I wanted, but it could have been worse.
My problem is that I don’t really know what I want.
Do I want to stay here with this ocean tribe?
Theodora almost certainly won’t want to.
But do I want to stay in the saucer with her, when I know that there is a tribe not that far away?
Will that even be my choice to make, now that this tribe knows about the saucer?
It’s too many unknowns. Probably the best outcome would be if Crat'ax came with me, and he would live with Theodora and me in the saucer. It’s almost like a little village already, with food stores, clean water, a pottery wheel, and a small forge.
Theodora might not like it, but I feel that we’d be better off with one hyper-competent caveman living with us.
And I’m not sure I want to be without his calming presence on this planet.
That low-level panic I felt at all times is dulled now, when he’s around.
Even the attack by that damn raptor didn’t turn me into a sobbing mess.
It was as if I knew he would handle it. And that gave me some kind of mental space to help by throwing those pieces of iron at the meteorite.
“Nobody else will come,” I echo. “We go right after splix run.” Probably a few days won’t matter that much.
I can get a better look at this tribe, and give Theodora better information, so we can make a well-informed choice.
And I don’t mind being away from the saucer.
It’s a creepy thing, its blue glow and tilted floor always reminding us that we were kidnapped by those damn Plood.
I can take this as a pleasant vacation, among huge cavemen who treat me like… well, like a space alien. As long as I have Crat'ax to protect me, that is.
Crat'ax paddles us forwards again. “Agreed. Just you and me.”
The surface of the bay glitters among the trees in front of us when Crat'ax growls deep in his throat.
“What is it?” I ask, fearing another dinosaur attack. But when I follow his gaze, what I see is even worse.
There are four cavemen standing on the bank of the stream, yellow-striped, and with long swords in their belts.
Crat'ax keeps us closer to the other bank, but the stream isn’t that wide. He stands up. “Men of the Adropo tribe!” he calls to them. “You are on Bradek turf. Are you so eager for the Day of trade that you want it to start early?”
“Greetings, man of Bradek!” one of the yellow-striped ones replies. “You seem to have caught more than just splix!” His accent is different from that of Crat'ax and his friends, but more similar to Sprisk’s.
I’m fully aware that I can’t pass as a caveman, not even a boy. The proportions are just all wrong, and these guys must be able to see that I’m a woman. Still, I grab the thin leather sheet and put it around my shoulders to hide as much of my shape as I can.
“The Deep gives what it wants,” Crat'ax replies. “Also aliens, it seems.”
“An alien?” another yellow-striper says. “What kind of alien?”
“The kind that’s deadly if you come too close,” Crat'ax says, and casually shows them his spear. “Leave our turf, warriors of Adropo. Then come for the Day of trade when you see the usual signal. Perhaps the alien will be gone by then, and you can safely approach our boats.”
“Is it a woman?” one of them yells. “She might be ours!”
Crat'ax laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “Then you should take better care of her! She’s mine now. Shall I tell my men to chase you off our turf? You’ll find there are more of us than of you.”
The Adropo men stare at us as we make a turn in the stream and have the bay in front of us. I don’t think being seen by those guys was a good thing. Now another tribe knows about me.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” Crat'ax growls as he paddles fast. “They’re more snarl than teeth. They are a jungle tribe, and don’t know about the Deep.
They’ve come early to the Day of trade, and dared intrude on our turf.
We do usually allow it when the trade is nearing.
And yet it tells us that they are eager to not miss that day.
Probably their village is running low on food, and they want to trade for our splix. ”
Smoke rises from the village on platforms. The smell of food being cooked tickles my nose. After years in that saucer, eating the thin gruel it would automatically make, it makes me feel starved.
“Fighting dirty,” I mutter. But of course, they’re not doing it to entice me to stay—this is how they actually live, with ample food, sweet fruit juice, and some degree of safety from dinosaurs. Except the ocean-going ones.
“The krai,” I begin, using a word the boys taught me. “It not often attack?”
“I’ve never seen a krai attack the village,” Crat'ax says. “The last time was before I was taken out of the Lifegiver.”
“Why happens now?” I ask.
“It was a test,” Crat'ax says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “The Deep wants to see if I deserve you.”
I look up at him. “I am not yours. I am mine.”
He doesn’t reply, just paddles on. When we were going the other way, he made sure to take us in a wide arc around the strange, lone platform without a walkway leading to it.
But this time we’re passing closer. As I stare at it and try to see movement, I start to feel anxious.
It’s as if I’m in some great danger that I don’t know about.
I look around, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary.
The surface of the bay looks innocent in the quickly setting sun, and there doesn’t seem to be a monster somehow following us from the jungle.
It’s actually quite peaceful. And yet my chest feels tight, and I have an almost overpowering urge to flee.
Crat'ax notices my nervous fidgeting. “What do you hear, Callie?”
“Nothing,” I admit as we draw away from the strange platform. “Just… I think danger.”
“There’s often danger in the ocean,” he replies. “But not always, like in the jungle.”
I stare at the platform, and once more I think I see movement.
I think they keep something living there, like a sea creature or something.
Maybe it’s some kind of holy animal that they use for their worship, or for some other purpose.
Well, I’m sure I’ll find out now that it seems I’ll be here for a few days.
As we approach the main platform, the feeling of terror quickly vanishes. Well, being scared on Xren is nothing unusual. And I’m not the most mentally stable person on this planet. I suppose those feelings can come and go.
Eager boys help us fasten the boat to the platform, and many young hands reach out to help me climb up to the platform.
I straighten my jumpsuit. “Thank you.”
“What did you get from the shore?” a boy asks, peering into the boat.
“We saw rekh,” I tell them. “Had to run.”
They gasp. “A rekh? Did it hunt you?”
“Yes,” I tell them. “But Crat'ax runs much fast.”
“His spear isn’t as good against rekh as against krai,” a precocious boy explains. “Better to run.”
“Better to run,” I agree.
Crat'ax easily swings his great bulk up on the platform. “That’s right. And now you boys can run back to our common Circle. It smells like the evening meal has started.”
The younger boys do as he says, and the older ones saunter away with many glances over their shoulders, smiling and laughing.
Crat'ax looks me up and down. “Ready to eat?”
I shrug. “Think so.”
“You will be the center of attention for everyone,” he tells me. “We can leave whenever you want to, and go to our new hut.”
“Oh, we have new hut?”
He points to the platform that was repaired. “We have that to ourselves. It’s bigger than my old one.”
“Good,” I reply, not sure what else to say. They’re already making changes to their village to accommodate me, as if they think I live here now. Which may be true, but that should be my choice.
I walk after Crat'ax to the central Circle. There’s a big fire on the huge flat rock.
Dozens of torches have been lit, and make this place feel almost luxurious to me.
I’m used to the creepy light inside the saucer, the flickering light from our small campfire, and a small lamp that burns dinosaur oil and gives off smelly smoke. This is very different.
The light spills outward over the platforms, catching on wet wood and salt-crusted ropes.
Smoke rises in clean columns and then breaks apart in the night breeze, carrying the smell of roasting meat.
It’s rich, fatty, and almost sweet. My stomach tightens with a sudden, embarrassing hunger.
Purple-striped men are everywhere, mostly sitting down.
There are bare chests, scarred shoulders, thick arms glistening with sea-spray. They move with purpose, but not haste.
I think it’s just started, because many are still finding their seats, and big chunks of roasted meat are being cut up. But the conversation is still lively. It stills when we approach.
“Greetings, Callie,” says the one grinning man who wanted to give me juice earlier. “How was the jungle?”
It’s a friendly question, but there’s something about that guy I just don’t like so much. I just give him a shallow smile.
Crat'ax points to a low wooden bench. “Sit next to the chief, Callie. It’s proper. The jungle is always dangerous, Mek’tor. So it was today. We will tell you later, after the chief has opened the meal.”