Halley #2
Tornado does it in half a day, finally admitting to exhaustion only when the suns are nearing the horizon. They sink to the ground at the base of the ravine, letting out a weary sigh.
Rin and I rush down to meet them.
The rockfall might’ve been dismembered, but a section of the ravine, about a hundred yards long, is covered in its debris, and I’ve got to scramble over the smashed stones to reach them.
Their hands are covered in scratches, and several of their claws have torn.
“I can’t believe you did that.” I don’t know whether to scold or thank them, so I wrap my arms around their thick neck and press kisses to what little of their face isn’t covered in rock dust.
“Halley!” Rin shouts from where she’s exploring among the debris. “I found it!”
“You found—” My breath catches. “You found water?”
I hurry to Rin. I think that’s the first time she’s used my name. She could’ve called me over for absolutely any reason and I would’ve come running purely because she said “Halley.”
The fact she’s found water has my heart racing. This is more exciting than any weather prediction I could’ve made on Earth. It’s certainly more important.
Rin is crouched between smashed stones, each about half the size of a car. She motions for me to hurry, and I slide down a stone, landing with a splash in thick mud.
“There is water!” I dig a shallow hole, and it immediately fills with liquid. A moment later it’s running over the edge and through a narrow gap between the stones.
We follow. It’s just a trickle, barely more than how much water might leak from a garden hose, but it’s enough that it makes a path through the debris, crawling down the center of the ravine.
“That’s amazing!” I go to hug her, then remember she mightn’t like that and pop a quick kiss on her cheek instead. “You did it!” I yell to Tornado.
I pull off my shoes and socks so I can go paddling. I’m splashing my feet in more mud than actual water, but the fact there’s any water at all is thrilling.
“This,” I say to Rin, “is one of the best things I’ve ever seen. It’ll mean the animals can return to the ravine, and the plants can grow again.”
“The trikon can’t come back to life.”
“No.” I guess not. “But another trikon could move into its cave. And that trikon won’t need to attack the farmer’s bimors because there’ll be heaps of wild animals around here for it to eat instead.”
I rest my back against the rock and splash my feet in muddy water. “Want to try it?"
Rin wrinkles her nose.
I laugh. “I used to do this all the time with Mom. There was a little stream down the road from her work, and we’d go down there in summer.
The water was never deep enough to go swimming in, but it was perfect for splashing about.
” There’d been no end of things to find in that river—yabbies, snails, water weed. One time we even saw a swimming snake.
I wonder what this river would be like in full flow. Bracketed on either side by the ravine walls decorated in layers of multicolored sediment and the fossils of fish ancestors—probably picture postcard perfect. And made all the more magnificent by being in the middle of a desert.
A literal oasis.
I turn my face skyward, letting the last of the day’s fading light warm my skin.
With my feet in cold water, I’m not insufferably hot.
Perhaps I could persuade Tornado to keep their ship parked beside the ravine for a few more days.
We could make a holiday of it. I know they’re got another job already lined up, but I can’t imagine any farmer turning us away because we’re running a little late, not where there’s nobody else for miles and miles for them to ask for help.
Water splashes my ankles, and I open my eyes to see Rin climbing over stones, following the water’s slow path down the ravine’s center.
Tornado comes to sit on the rock beside me.
The fact they still haven’t shifted into their individual forms makes this by far the longest they’ve remained as Tornado, at least in my company. Because they’re too tired to shift? Or do they finally feel comfortable in each other’s heads?
“Last night—” I’m not sure how to begin describing how it made me feel.
They don’t interrupt to fill the silence trailing in my wake. Perhaps because when they’re in their hybrid form, they can’t talk; I’ve certainly never heard them speak.
Doubtless it’s cowardly of me to be having this conversation when they can’t reply, but my heart’s pounding in my chest, feeling exactly like the sound of hail hitting an old tin roof.
I clear my throat. “Last night is going to be burned into my memory as one of the best moments of my life. And today, here and now.” I gesture at the water, at the scattering of debris across the valley floor, at Rin scrambling over stones, exploring.
I need them to understand how important an impact they’ve had on me.
There are a million ways—a trillion ways—my life beyond Earth could’ve turned disastrous.
I can do the math; I can calculate the odds.
The fact that I’m safe and happy is remarkable.
Miraculous, even. And I have Eot, Keelo and Rin to thank for that.
“I thought that getting abducted was the monumental turning point in my life. I thought that was when there’d been a line drawn between my old life and my new life.
But I was wrong. That happened when I met you three.
That was the turning point. That was when everything truly changed, and I can still hardly believe how lucky I got. ”
I take a deep breath. “If someone were to give me the coordinates to Earth, I wouldn’t go back. I love you, Eot, Keelo. Every time I look at you both, I can feel my chest expanding, as if my feelings are too big to fit inside—”
Tornado stiffens, their gaze snapping to something over my shoulder.
“What is it? Did Rin trip over?” Concerned, I glance behind, straining to catch sight of her. She’s crouched on a stone, several rocks away, her back to one of the ravine walls, drawing shapes in the mud. Shadows paint the canyon, and among them lurks a monster.
“Rin—” Fear saturates my voice. “Come here, please. Sweetheart.”
She looks up at us, brows furrowed. “What—”
“Quickly now!” I stand, lurching a half step forward. Not looking where I’m going, I accidentally hook my foot in a gap between two rocks, and I’ve got to fling out my arms to catch myself, grazing my palms.
The pain barely registers.
Beside me, Tornado is stalking forward on their hands and feet, keeping as low as they can to the ground.
They’re taking a wide circle around Rin, coming at the trikon from one side, away from its direct line of sight.
As they begin to draw level with Rin, she turns to track the direction of their focus.
My breath hitches.
She gasps.
Even larger than a bimor, the trikon’s head is low to the ground, mouth open and pointed teeth on display. It’s got two tails, both of them flicking in opposite directions, the mismatched hands of a grandfather clock.
It must have been in one of the many caves littering the ravine walls, and no doubt smelled the water. Whether its target is the narrow stream or Rin, I can’t tell. Either way, it’s heading toward the kid, who’s between it and the water.
“Come here, baby girl,” I call, voice cracking.
She stumbles backward, falls, and scrambles up again. Even I can hear her panicked breathing, despite the distance between us. If fear were a scent, she’d reek of it.
So would I.
I want to jump up and down and wave my arms in the air, a decoy to attract the trikon’s attention, but I’m struggling to free my foot. So I grab a stone off the ground, one small enough I can lift it in a single hand, and throw it at the trikon.
It sails over Rin’s head but falls short and does little to distract the predator, who’s flicking its ears, attention fixed on Rin’s erratic movements as she scrambles toward me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I yank harder, not caring about the sharp pull on my ankle. My foot finally slips free of both my shoe and the jam, and I throw myself forward.