Chapter 7 Alisha
ALISHA
I’m sure this continent is warmer than the one we’re on. It doesn’t help that I’m carrying two days’ worth of supplies, and a bloody camera. Hrad has the tent in his bag while I have the med kit.
Considering how anxious he was to fly, he appears calm now, even though we are only two days’ walk away from the settlement. Some people wanted to be closer, but it was deemed too risky.
Hrad walks in silence, but his head moves as if he is drinking everything in. Is he listening for predators or other warriors? Or is he just enjoying being back on the mainland? I open my mouth and shut it again, remembering the warning about talking and the way he talked to me by touching me.
I take a couple of quick steps to catch up, and as if sensing that I need something, he pauses. I read that the Honey can sense all kinds of things, heartbeats and such, with their kam, but I wonder if it also means they are attuned to all changes in a person.
I offer my arm, hoping that he’ll understand.
Not sure if this is the correct way to do it, or if I’m being rude.
I do remember to keep my fingers curled into a fist—which makes me feel as though I’m going to punch him, even though to him a fist is a friendly gesture.
Hrad touches the back of my hand, his fingers brushing over my skin so softly a shiver runs down my back.
What’s wrong?
Nothing. My lips move as I mouth the word.
He tilts his head, and a frown forms. He doesn’t need to offer any silent words.
It seems stupid that I stopped to speak to him, but since I am here…Are you listening for attack or enjoying being back?
He draws in a breath as if about to speak aloud. Of course he doesn’t. This is not the area I am from. I am not familiar with the animals or the trees. So I am listening and learning what the normal sounds of the forest are.
How will I be able to tell if you sense something?
He gives me a closed-lip smile. I will create a charge.
I’ve watched the warriors fight and train and seen the sparks they can create. Others said how they use the charge to stun their prey and stop hearts. He watches me as if waiting for confirmation that is acceptable.
Place the camera on the next hill?
He nods and lets his hand fall away. Then he starts walking, while my skin is still missing his touch and the tingle the conversation created.
I shake my hand and follow, trying to mimic him as he moves almost silently through the forest. This time I pay more attention to the noises.
The animal calls and the rustle of leaves.
My legs are burning by the time we make it up the next hill, and my shirt is glued to my back. There was a big difference between running on flat ground and hiking up hills. The colony is on much flatter territory.
I turn around and take a sip of water. Because of the trees and the undulations, the ship is invisible. Or it is to me, hidden in the dips and shadows.
Hrad taps my hand and points at a tree. It’s not the tallest one, but it looks sturdy, and more importantly, there are many branches in which to nestle the camera. I kneel and open the case and prep the camera for its new home.
Hrad shrugs off his backpack as if we already agreed that he will do the climbing. I have never climbed a tree, but it can’t be that hard…can it?
He squats and touches my hand again. If anything happens to you, no one is going home. Besides, I have climbed a lot of trees.
He has a point.
You need to press this button to activate it.
I know. And I know how to attach it to the branches.
I stand and give him the strap. He loops the strap over his head, so the camera rests against his chest like a large black spider, then he gives me a nod and starts up the tree. It doesn’t take him long to be several meters overhead.
And I’m on the ground, in the middle of a forest surrounded by animals that may want to eat me. My hand slides to my hip to rest on my gun. I don’t normally carry one, but then I don’t often leave the ship.
He stops climbing, his legs dangling from a branch as if he’s sitting in the dining room not three quarters of the way up a tree.
It’s a long way to fall. I bite my lip so that I don’t accidentally yell at him to be careful.
The forest is so much quieter than the colony, or even the colony ship.
I am so used to the sound of human voices and machinery that to hear nothing but nature is unnerving.
Hrad seems to be taking forever. Is he securing the camera properly? Will it stay up there even if there’s a storm? What if he doesn’t turn it on properly?
It’s not that hard. There’s only one button.
What if it got damaged on the way up? Or he can’t attach it to the tree because the strapping isn’t long enough, or the clamps won’t fit around the branch?
I glance around the clearing as every rustle is suddenly too loud and too close. My heart thumps against my ribs. Hrad tips forward.
I gasp, but then he swings lower to the next branch, coming down far quicker than he went up. He walks over, and I remember at the last second to pull out the tablet. I need to check that it’s transmitting.
It takes a couple of seconds for the camera to connect, then the live feed is on the screen and I’m looking not at the trails on the ground but at the next hill, giving me a sweeping view of the forest and everything that approaches where we stand from the settlement.
It’s not the angle I would’ve chosen…
I touch his hand. Why are we looking up, not down?
His eyebrows pull together. So we can see more. What is the point of seeing what has already arrived? Do you want the angle changed?
No. Because he’s right. A view of the hill around the tree doesn’t reveal as much as what is moving toward the tree. Ready for the next one?
I switch from the feed to the map to mark the location of the camera. Hrad collapses the carry case. The foam flattens between the pieces of metal, and he slides it into his bag before slipping it onto his back as if the bag weighs nothing.
He lifts my bag, and I put it on, suppressing a groan as the weight settles on my shoulders.
It would’ve been nice if all the cameras could be flown into position, but we don’t have enough drones for that. And we can’t make more. Not yet anyway. So we are stuck having to trek through the forest and install them manually.
If the walking bothers Hrad, it doesn’t show.
He doesn’t grumble or mutter or curse.
Each step is carefully placed so that hardly a twig snaps.
He finds an animal trail, and we follow the path towards the river. Ahead, something startles, sees us and runs into the shrubs. Hrad pauses, hand lifted, and fingers spread. I freeze and hold my breath, watching the gap between his fingers and waiting for sparks to form.
After several tense seconds, I exhale. It’s a few more breaths before he lowers his hand.
Whatever danger he sensed has passed. I haven’t wandered beyond the colony fence enough to notice the differences between here and there, and since I never saw Earth, only photos—including some from before the collapse of ecosystems where forests like this still existed—to me this is all new and weird.
I’m trying really hard not to jump at every rustle or animal chirp.
This…nature…and fresh air and trees and everything is why my parents risked the journey and sold my future for a better life.
Just because I understand their reason, doesn’t make it easier to swallow that I’m expected to have three kids while doing everything to ensure the colony succeeds.
If it fails, my children will be left in the rubble, scraping by, but hey, at least there’s plenty of clean water to drink.
Did the people back on Earth realize how hard it was going to be?
Maybe not now while we have supplies from Earth, but in ten years?
Or twenty years? There’s going to be a period where we forget how to do things.
Where technology is lost because it can’t be repaired.
So even though plenty of our things have been simplified, we can’t make microchips or plastic components.
Our cameras and tablets, our ships and our clothes are going to break, and if we aren’t used to living without them, we’re going to be screwed.
I shudder, not wanting to think about the day all flights are grounded, when all transport is by hauling a cart.
Hrad glances at me, and I force a smile. How do I share my fears of the future when the very life I’m afraid of is how his people live now?
Or that I don’t want to damn my children to a life that is worse than mine?
I’m not even sure if I want children. I want to fly and explore.
I want the kind of relationship I saw growing up. Even though we were raised with the colony expectations and needs at the forefront of our education, we grew up surrounded by traditional families. With two parents who either loved or tolerated each other.
And that’s not possible with the imbalance.
I am a little envious of the women who found love with another woman, who will create a family together. Of Hrad and his easy acceptance of a male lover because having a female mate was never part of his life plan.
And now the only mates he can choose from are weird looking humans.
He waits for me to catch up, and our hands brush. Are you alright?
Just thinking. Is he sensing my disquiet?
About?
I don’t answer immediately, because I’m not sure how much to share.
It’s not as though we’re friends or even close colleagues.
But in this moment, it seems as though we are the only two people in existence.
That our lives crashed together from across the stars for this moment.
Which is a stupid, romantic, and ridiculous thought. Life. The colony. The future.
So nothing of consequence. His lips curved as he glances at me.