Chapter 6
SIX
Tai
Just as I predicted, the wind erased Bri’s footprints over the course of the night. What I wasn’t expecting to see was a set of significantly larger, not human, tracks.
They are about twice the size of my feet, made by some four-legged creature with claws. It circled my tent a few times and left me in peace. Whatever it is, I’d like to be far away when it returns.
My visor is malfunctioning and not picking up on Bri’s signature.
It only registers her crashed pod that’s about half a day behind me.
I take off the visor and tap it against my palm and try again.
Just her crashed pod. With no tracks to follow and no visor to pinpoint her location, this day is fucked.
Yesterday I was mad. Today I’m worried. Constantly being on high alert will keep you alive, but it can also drive you crazy. The presence of footprints isn’t the only concern nagging at me.
On Sabaak, there are two main groups of residents. The Sabaaki seem to be a harmless tribe of desert-dwelling folk who keep to themselves. And then there is the Oo’rahim.
The Oo’rahim were banished here about a decade ago. They were granted a remote place to practice their extremist “religion.” More like a cult.
They got chased away because of their weird-ass beliefs and bonkers prophecy. In a rare move, their species wanted them off the planet and got them banned, which is not easy to do. If memory serves, it was specifically their hostility toward females that got them booted.
Now they’re here, shuffling around the desert unencumbered by decency and social norms.
If Bri encounters the locals, they will be spooked. What if they attack her? And the Oo’rahim—well, who knows how they would react. If their past treatment of women is any indication…
Yeah, I really need to get to her first.
I toss the useless visor into my pack and look around. I guess we are doing this the old-fashioned way. I’m going south until I hit the colony.
I stop for the day even though there are a few hours of daylight left.
Dark clouds rolled in not long ago, certainly a sign of rain.
The only thing that changed was the systematic lightening of my pack as I depleted more of my survival rations.
All this walking, and not a single sign of Bri.
Not a footprint or discarded nutrigel pouch, nothing.
The tent practically pitches itself, requiring very little help from me.
I double-check the anchors to make sure they’re secure when I hear the pitter-pat of raindrops on the nylon material.
I look up at the sky and let the multiplying droplets roll over me, washing away the sweat and dust. I twist open the empty hydropacks and set them out to collect the rain.
Before I get completely soaked, I crawl into the tent and settle in for the night.
The sound of the rain hitting my tent is relaxing.
As my eyes slowly close, my mind drifts to the first time I saw rain.
Growing up on space stations meant that the concept of weather was completely new to me.
When I landed on j’Tilak, my home planet, for the first time, I felt the wind.
Then came the rain. The newness of my surroundings made me feel intoxicated.
That day, I was cleaned up and given my first regulation haircut, the same style I’ve maintained all these years.
Short by the ears, longer on the top and in the back.
My belly was full for the first time I could remember, but I was still terrified.
Life alone on the space station was hard, but it was all I knew.
That first day, I walked around in a daze.
I decided then and there, drenched in the rain, that I was done stringing together bad decisions.
My entire perspective changed, and suddenly, the possibilities of the future shined a light on my past. I locked up those shameful memories and put them aside until I forgot they were even there.
From then on, it was structure, discipline, and anything that would keep me from ending up back where I started.
Things were going to be different. I was going to be different.