Chapter Eighteen
Cool Water
Parker stood pale and hammered at his remote. "I swear! I didn't! The camera just launched on its own!"
Zephyron gripped my wrist, his eyes sharp with pain. "Thomas!"
"We'll get you nanites!"
"It would take more time than we possess, nor allowed."
He was right, and combat-grade ones could instantly heal him, but he'd lose face to Sandari and Volardi viewers. He trembled. "Child of water, can you race?"
"Sure, if I had my board."
"Your transport is from Alen and therefore advanced Volardi tech. Using it is a dishonor."
I blinked in surprise. I told him the story way back and didn't think he remembered.
The announcer's voice counted down.
"I can't just leave you here."
"I am a warrior and have experienced injuries before." He gestured instructions to a pair of tall, female Sandari guards who stood next to Parker. Their claws weren't far from long, tapered knives on their belt.
I nodded before gesturing. "I don't think this was Parker's doing, so don't rough him up, okay?"
With a grunt, Zephyron rose with nearly all his weight on his left leg. "Thomas of Earth will go in my place," he shouted to the crowd. He leaned down and whispered, "Finish strong, entertain, and aim high with the sand when you win."
"Got it."
"There is more. The race has variations. For example, stones may rise out of the sand. Other times, a new competitor will show, or the drones recording the event will create localized storms. Be prepared."
For something I don't know is coming.
The other competitors were already on their boards, including the 'kid' I noticed earlier. "Good Luck, Thomas," Parker's voice was heavy. I don't know what happened, but the filmmaker didn't have his camera-drone anymore.
I whispered a favor to a knife dancer, and with a nod, she agreed. My focus then locked on the moving dunes below.
"Begin," shouted the announcer.
The board wobbled beneath my feet, sliding unevenly as I tried to find my balance. I cursed as the others surged ahead, their boards slicing tiny ridges. The younger Sandari pulled ahead, his smaller frame giving him speed as he darted between racers.
Meanwhile, I stood like someone, well, stuck in the sand. I pushed my weight down. The front end dipped, and a rising sand wave nearly threw me of all people, off a board. Several Sandari whined.
Great.
My leg muscles tightened as I fought with the board, making it glide forward, but the moving sand bucked against me like an angry horse. If I fell, would I just lose, or get swallowed up like Parker's camera?
Relax.
Okay. Not an ocean, but almost. Rhythmic, pulsing. Like the desert had its own music, and I just needed to catch the beat.
I adjusted my stance, bent my knees, and leaned into an upcoming surge. The momentum carried me toward the other racers, and the board stabilized, gliding smoothly as the wave propelled me back up.
"Yes!"
I was in it now. One with the sand, like I belonged here. It wasn't surfing, but it felt close enough. My eyes stung, and I smiled.
The other racers carved slow, graceful arcs and flipped their boards mid-air. Karel seemed to have a talent for it, as he glided and twisted across the sand.
A larger crest came that would send us back near the starting line. It would have been a perfect opportunity to jump over and reach the statue, but nobody did.
Oh...
This was 'The Event,' a ceremony with relevance and to entertain. A concert wasn't fun if it ended after the first song.
Okay. Sense the crowd, play to it. Feel the vibe.
A new wave grew, bigger than the last. Instead of steering away like the others, I leaned into it. My hand went out just enough to spray the air in an arc of golden dust. Sand drifted off my board, and for a split second, I flew with a glittering trail.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Some Sandari added their signature howls, the sound echoing through the canyon. I landed clean, and the board skipped like a flat stone over water as I rode the energy forward. The younger Sandari's ears pointed ahead.
My gaze went to the other racers. They stood on their boards fine and even did impressive moves, but their stance was precise and mechanical.
A reverse upward wave came, this time exposing pillars and rocks Zephyron had warned about.
We all avoided them, but Karel did it with a jump spin at the end.
He stared back in confusion as I gave him the 'Hang Loose' pinky-and-thumb gesture. His ears flapped twice in quick succession. The rippling dunes took us back up, and the slope ahead now had dark spots, as if soaked in oil.
Wait! My heart sank. Water! It bubbled up into a larger, reflective puddle. A Sandari racer behind me yipped in terror as a familiar clicking reached my ears.
Zerlites!
A bloated headcrab launched from the wet grit and latched onto a racer's chest. His boogie board wobbled wildly as he pulled at the creature.
Its mandibles tangled deeper as it slid a needle-like appendage into the racer's throat.
Blood sprayed when he toppled off the board and sank under the sand.
The crowd gasped in horror before settling into a continual murmur.
This race had political importance, and a chance of dying if I hit a rock, but this?
A screech ripped through, and I turned to see a monkey-like creature ride a sandy wave with large eyes locked on me. I had no weapon and no way to fight back.
Or do I?
I angled, rising high with the next wave. I steered straight for the Zerlite, and the underside slammed down onto its head with a crunch. The impact jolted up my legs, and bile splattered under my board. The viscous goo slowed me down, and I rocked side to side, scrubbing the gunk away.
Another yip tore through the air, and my eyes snapped toward Karel. He struggled against a headcrab latched onto his left leg. A needle darted out, seconds before it would strike.
Please let me be right.
Most of my speed returned, so I cut him off and shimmied ahead. A fine spray of golden dust coated its round body. They were active with water... so what would happen if they were buried and dried?
It screeched twice, slower on the second, then stilled. Karel yanked the Zerlite off his leg along with a massive chunk of fur, then threw it away from the other contestants. The critter burst open against a rock. Two Sandari ears flapped twice in quick succession, and he pointed.
More?
A group of brown, reptilian monkey creatures had perched on newly risen pillars. They hurled jagged fist-sized rocks randomly, although most seemed directed at us.
A grey blur whipped past my head and I ducked just in time.
Karel wasn't as lucky and winced from a smaller stone tagging his shoulder.
He nearly fell but instead caught the next thrown rock.
He returned it with the speed and aim of a professional baseball player.
One clawed creature soon tumbled off the ledge.
Karel and I exchanged a glance with an unspoken understanding. We could finish, but it wouldn't be enough. I didn't just want a win. I wanted to make it great. In my side vision, a few other Sandari racers remained behind us. I could beat them for sure.
To quote Parker, it needed that special je ne sais quoi.
A 'something-something' to make Sandari and Volardi talk about it for decades.
The sand reversed again and took me up while three Sandari stayed, including Karel.
Any could avoid returning and spray the statue.
Karel hissed and let the dune carry him. That left two.
"Come on!" Just one more cycle.
Both glanced back and darted for the finish, cutting clean lines in the sand. Karel's ears dropped, and his head bowed.
Thanks to my implant, I copied his language. With a slight yip and howl, I said, "Let's go. We haven't lost." Yet.
We weren't their competition anymore and no longer a concern.
One edged close, tapping the other's board by accident or sabotage.
The second raced ahead and used my trick to throw sand into his opponent's eyes.
The first tore a smooth decorative white stone from his garment and threw it hard, copying Karel's throw.
Their boards slammed together again and again, each impact making them sway more wildly. Then, with a yip, one spiraled out of control and fell onto the sand, which quickly swallowed him whole.
The other Sandari looked behind and howled three times. His ears flapped in unison, and Karel hissed back.
Even though I could ask my implant, I wondered if the Sandari had a saying about celebrating early. If they didn't, they would soon. His board hit a rock, and up he flew before landing hard. The dunes opened as if the desert itself were hungry. Now, he and his competitor were together, buried.
Karel let out a soft, mournful whimper, his ears flattening against his head.
"Hey," I said. "We... we can still do this. You and me." I shouted my plan.
With no time limit, we let the desert take us up again.
Then we veered into the next wave, riding side-by-side, matching rhythm and trick for trick.
Then he leapt off a smaller wave and spun his board before landing.
I grinned and copied the move, then added a flourish by dragging my hand through the fine grit to spray a golden arc behind us.
A race became a conversation via movement.
A surfer's language in a world with little water.
The crowd howled, and I heard one deep-voiced Volardi among them.
A guttural screech from under us stopped our inter-species fun.
A giant Zerlite lifted out of the sand—easily two stories tall and twice as wide.
The body looked like it had been carved from molten rock, dark and shiny like cooled lava.
Teal veins as thick as arms pulsed along the limbs, with the same texture as Solis and Axios' memory crystals, only more jagged.
Each hand ended in four long, clawed fingers. Its head was pulled back and sloped, shaped like a wedge, and after a deep inhale, it tilted back, then jerked forward.
It spat a stream of glowing yellow-red liquid across the slope, turning sand into smoking, black sludge.
Beyond the distance attack, this one wasn't like the others.
Their scarred hide resembled an old tiger shark's skin back on Earth, etched with decades of bites and battles.
Bigger. Older. Maybe this one spawned others?
Then that would make it the Queen!
It's what Zephyron, a warrior who took out a swarm with a rock, prayed he would never face in battle.
Volardi security probes flew above the slope, with tentacles out, ready to fire electric arcs. I turned to Karel, who pointed up and shook his head 'no.' He gestured to the crowd, then to 'Mama.' He mimed breaking a stick, and his ears flapped down.
"Oh! Getting help is not good. Got it."
Membranes spread over the Queen's hands and toes, allowing it to skitter on the sand as if solid. No thrown rock would dent its thick hide, and there were no upcoming waves to lift us over to safety. We could split and surf away from each other. One of us might survive. Only one.
No.
It screeched a warped, chime-like whistle, eerily close to the ones from the Sandari marketplace. Then it spat another stream of liquid magma.
"I wonder," I muttered, ducking the molten spray but still feeling the heat.
I whistled back, off-key and shaky. The Mama Zerlite tilted her wedge-shaped head.
"Did you see that?"
Karel didn't answer. Just balance with his amber eyes locked on her.
I tried again. This time, I held the notes and shifted pitch, mimicking the melody I'd heard before.
The creature recoiled. Her veins pulsed brighter, and another blast hissed past.
I scanned the sky. Volardi drones still hovered, silent and watching like vultures.
Crazy idea. No time for a better one.
Please don't count this as cheating.
I reached out through the implant. "Sentinel override. Subject: Security drones over my location. Command: Replicate my voice."
I inhaled deeply and whistled with all my breath. High above came a symphony of noise. The Mama Zerlite jerked toward the high-pitched whistles, scanning the probes as the sound bounced from every direction. Glowing veins in her arms flared, pulsing out of rhythm.
Karel looked up. His ears twitched, then he pointed at me.
The towering Zerlite shrieked again. Her whole body shuddered as more chime-like whistles joined in. Someone in the crowd started their own imitation, and a really good one. More followed. The sound grew. Louder. Stronger.
The Queen hissed, fired one last stream of molten glass, then turned and crawled away, slow and twitchy, into the sand.
The cheers hit like a wave. I gestured to Karel and toward the statue. "Let's finish this!"
The Gold Dust Woman stood waiting, her carved eyes watching an Outer Territories Sandari and a former trailer kid from Georgia rocket down. Her face shimmered with the grains of old victories, her grooves filled with the sand of legends.
I reached out my hand and Karel took it. No words. Just trust.
We angled our boards, racing down as one. His paw in my hand. My hand in his paw. Then, in perfect rhythm, we leaned back and drove the desert forward beneath us. We couldn't tell if the sand hit the jeweled eyes. I didn't care. We crossed the finish line together as surfers.
His ears perked up in question. There was no clear winner, and did I cheat by using the probes as speakers?
I stepped off the board, about to hug my new buddy, when my stomach twisted with nausea.
With greyed vision, I stumbled toward their holy statue, now two overlapping images.
Before I could stop it, bile surged up and spilled across the sacred grooves. I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it.
Chiseled fur dripped with slime in the bright sun, and the crowd and Karel turned instantly silent.
***