Clear

It hadn’t been a full day since I’d first managed to make the flashbang that saved my life against Stalker. But even in just the hours since, it had undergone some intense refinement.

Daniel and I had done some rudimentary experiments on our flashbang, in micro scale. Using tiny grains, we’d tried random changes to its creation. Changes we didn’t fully understand to a creation we didn’t understand at all.

We understood what it did though. At least, somewhat.

Even if I couldn’t put it into words, I’d wrapped my head around what needed to change so that I didn’t need to always create the blast in my hand—against Trapper I’d managed to forge it midair a few yards away. I’d also figured out how to delay the detonation by a margin of milliseconds. The one I’d had to physically throw at Stalker had taken a split second to actually go off, while since, I’d built them to detonate immediately.

The underlying process was the same for all iterations though. Changing that was not so simple.

It made a flash, and it made a sound. It wasn’t hard to know that wouldn’t be enough to keep me safe. The goal of our experiments had been more boom and less bright. Even now, that was what I tried to bring forth.

But when it was being created inside a living thing’s throat, the difference wasn’t really significant.

Burn or bang, it was still an explosive.

There was a horrible flash and a muffled wet sound popped out of the animal’s throat.

A searing hot pain erupted over my hand coupled with the feeling like I’d just had a molten sledgehammer strike the inside of my fist somehow. I screamed through clenched teeth at the sensation.

I’d tried to prepare myself for the pain, but there was only so much my imagination could predict what it actually felt like. Very recently, I’d been stabbed, and that pain wasn’t half as bad as this.

At least no.3 didn’t fare well either.

A hole blew open the side of its neck and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

Its limbs went limp, and the animal fell on top of me only for me to wrench my hand from the remains of its jaw. It wasn’t trying to gnaw off my hand anymore.

The panther-hound was dead.

I should have been bleeding. I was bleeding.

But not where I should have been.

I stared at my hand; all five fingers still whole. Skin scorched an angry pink color, stinging like mad, painful to flex or clench, but otherwise uninjured.

This was not the hand of someone who’d just set off a small bomb in their palm. How was this possible?

Daniel gave me a shaky mental nod.

The sensation was rapidly fading, but even as it slipped through my fingers, I couldn’t help but marvel at the utter focus that I’d had.

It was the exact opposite of an adrenaline rush.

Every second felt like five.

I shoved panther-hound no.3 off me, and it slumped into the snow, sliding a few feet down the slope before the snow piled up beneath it. It was dead. Dark, almost black, blood stained the snow a dark purple. It morbidly reminded me of grape flavored snow cones.

A win was a win, but every time I accomplished something it felt like three more worries cropped up in its place.

The dog was dead, but now I had to contend with whatever was going on with my hand. In the extreme focus of the moment, I’d been prepared for my hand to end up a bloody mangled mess.

It would have been even more agonizing, even downright debilitating. But it would have still beaten dying to an alien dog.

Instead, I was walking away with my hand intact if not completely unharmed.

< Not to push you while you’re off balance, but this might not be the time to look the gift horse in the mouth. >

I said,

‘Walking’ away, turned out to be a bit too passive. Nai had gotten the truck’s tires moving, although not yet back on the road. They didn’t seem to have seen me either. I broke into a run, making sure I got back in the truck before Nai got it moving again.

Nai noticed me and their hand dipped toward the gun that was probably on the seat next to them in the truck. They didn’t relax for the first few seconds upon seeing me.

I was apprehensive too. The mirror I’d had in my head was still absent, and I could tell it would stay that way.

Somehow, I had left it in Nai’s head.

Nai… didn’t seem to be aware of it though. If I were Nai, and an alien had somehow put something, anything , in my head?

I had little doubt the Farnata was willing to shoot me for far less.

Nai glanced at something on my shoulder that seemed to put them in a slightly less hostile mood. I glanced down to see a large dark indigo blood stain covering the better part of my shoulder. There was probably some on my face and mask too, but my skin was too numb to feel it.

Enemy of my enemy.

Some things were universal.

We both heard a faint yelp from above, and a panther-hound—no.2, I decided—came tumbling over the cusp of the slope. It caught itself quickly, only sliding a dozen feet downward, before jumping back up.

Nai gunned the truck again and I put myself in the back again.

The truck lurched back onto the road and Nai steered it into the same path we’d already plowed through the road once before.

We rounded the corner to see Tasser and Nemuleki fighting Courser and one, soon to be two, of the Vorak’s hounds.

Tasser had separated Courser from the wood-finished rifle, and currently appeared to be trying to beat the otter with his bare hands. It was no easy feat, considering Vorak strength.

Nemuleki was brandishing the bolt-rifle like a club and swiping it at panther-hound no.1, keeping it at bay. No.2 scrambled back up onto this level of the road and Nemuleki caught sight of it.

Nai floored the accelerator and the truck lurched forward.

A small part of my brain made note of the fact that the vehicle did operate by pedal, something I hadn’t confirmed before now.

The truck barreled through the snow straight for Tasser and Courser.

At the last second, Tasser jumped up and threw himself out of the way of the truck. Courser got halfway to its feet before thinking better of it. The Vorak dove down, tearing into the compacted snow, ducking underneath the truck.

The truck’s tires passed right on either side of the alien, and in just that instant it had managed to press itself into the snow deep enough to avoid the truck’s under clearance. Nemuleki jabbed the bolt rifle at the face of one of the hounds, who failed to snap its jaws around the rifle’s bulky barrel.

Nai slammed on the brake and the truck slid to a halt in the snow. The Farnata climbed out from the cab, ready to start scorching the snowy hill with alien-fire.

Tasser followed the truck to where it halted and one of the panther-hounds peeled off from Nemuleki, opting to chase Tasser instead.

Courser swapped targets too. It scrambled to its feet from where it had ducked under the truck and dove toward the grey rifle it had brought. It fired at Nemuleki only for Nai to flick their wrist and create a curtain of teal-fire between Courser and its target.

The Vorak adjusted its aim, deeming Nai to be the most immediate target. The Farnata was faster though, extending its flaming curtain to cut off Courser’s view of the truck too.

Tasser and Nemuleki both made it to the truck with just one panther-hound in close pursuit. Courser and the other animal were forced to take precious seconds to skirt around Nai’s fire. I was more or less spent, but my alien allies all shuffled weapons between them. Tasser withdrew one of the two remaining rounds to the bolt-rifle and handed it to Nemuleki, before taking the pistol that Nai offered him.

Nemuleki clapped the bolt-rifle shut, chambering the new round.

Panther-hound no.1 halted in its tracks and tried to run when Tasser raised the pistol at it.

Tasser squeezed two bullets at the animal. It lost its footing and buried itself in the snow when it fell over with a shrill screech.

Panther-hound no.2 rounded Nai’s curtain in a full sprint, but it was still a distance away when Nai gave Nemuleki a countdown. I hadn’t been able to make out what they’d said, but when Nai counted down from four on their fingers, the curtain of teal-fire evaporated, giving Nemuleki a clear line of fire on Courser.

The Vorak tried to fire first, yanking its own rifle up almost quick enough to fire before Nemuleki. But not quite.

The bolt-rifle erupted again, launching its projectile at speeds a few orders of magnitude too fast to follow with the eye.

A hole exploded in the trunk of a tree far behind Courser—the Vorak had evaded the shot by a hair's breadth. It might have been that Nemuleki missed because of their injuries, but either way Courser got its own shot off. It caught Nemuleki in the forearm spurting metallic orange blood over the truck’s bed.

They dropped the bolt-rifle, clutching at their wound.

Nai sent a new gout of flames directly at Courser who fluidly dove out of the way. It didn’t stop moving either, even as Nai twisted its fire into new shapes, the Vorak was able to slip aside each time.

The heat from Nai’s creation was quickly melting the snow wherever it touched; in just a few seconds the air was thick with steam and clouds of it started to obscure our vision.

Not enough for panther-hound no.2 to successfully sneak up on us though. It tried to leap at Tasser, standing next to the truck, only for Tasser to grab the bolt-rifle and smash the massive gun into the hound’s snout.

It recoiled back, and Tasser didn’t miss the opportunity to eject the spent shell. He slotted in the last round we had for the bolt-rifle. There were still two targets, but since the pistol had dealt with panther-hound no.1 easily enough…

He passed the pistol back to Nai, who took it without pausing their fiery assault on Courser. Both hands free again, he hefted the bolt-rifle, ready to fire. Tasser seemed to mimic my thinking. Instead of aiming for the hound, he turned the bolt-rifle on Courser instead.

Nai pulled back her flames, directing them toward the remaining panther-hound instead. They were trying to give Tasser the clearest shot possible.

In the very moment it seemed like we might eke out a victory against Courser and its hounds, it all went wrong.

I felt a disturbance at the edge of awareness. Another Enumius alien entered my range, downhill of us.

“Tasser!” I shouted, pointing downhill. Only it wasn’t where I’d pointed, it was closer. Much closer! It moved so quickly, that it felt like my radar was on a delay.

A blur of dark fur and orange metal crashed into the side of the truck, a gout of Nai’s teal-fire welled up next to the truck but the new Vorak was already bounding away.

I could barely track what happened with my eyes. Nai had reacted to my warning and actually summoned the fire first. The new Vorak had twisted out of the way, slamming into the side of the truck, before darting to a safer distance.

Tasser leveled his rifle at the newcomer and fired the final bolt he had.

It was like a bolt of lightning struck the newcomer, only to be met by an oncoming bolt. The already deafening sound of the rifle was compounded by shrill reverberation where it met the new Vorak’s outstretched hands.

It had seen Tasser ready to fire the shot, and created something in its path. Courser looked as surprised as I felt when it saw its ally shield itself.

It had created a jagged round plate of crystal to deflect the bolt, but in the same motion, after the shot was deflected, the Vorak tore the plate in half, forging each chunk into a pair of long curved swords.

The blades shimmered dangerously in a way that reminded me of Nai’s fire. They were not ordinary weapons.

The new Vorak was shorter than Courser by a half a head, but it was still more imposing. It’s physical presence wasn’t the reason. It wasn’t taller or bulkier than the other Vorak I’d seen. It had plain rusty brown fur, no angry tufts or scars. The dull glittering orange armor was the only sight that warned me this otter was different.

My eyes were not what I was used to measuring Vorak by. To my Enumius radar, this newcomer radiated raw danger.

It was like Nai. My mind went back to the first moment I’d met the Farnata. I’d been struck with an overwhelming feeling of dread. It was the same feeling now. I was utterly certain this alien was ready to kill me.

Daniel noted.

He was right—the otter that had threatened me with the halberd had made quite the impression. It had been the first experience I had with my Enumius radar. Was this Vorak further up the hierarchy?

It was certainly more dangerous than any of the hunters to waylay us so far. For the first time, I was standing in front of an alien that felt like it rivaled the emanations Nai gave off. Had the halberd Vorak given off this intense a feeling? I couldn’t be sure.

Seeing the similarity gave me a definitive answer to the question I had asked myself: how long would we have to do this?

Forever.

The answer was forever .

I’d gotten too caught up in the hunters coming at us one at a time; let myself forget that the longer this dragged on, the more time the bigger forces had to close the distance. I’d managed to recognize that it was odd they didn’t carry firearms like other soldiers, but still somehow missed the important information: that they were still soldiers .

The emblem carved onto the plates of its armor reminded me of one of my first realizations. They were soldiers, very small pieces of a much larger group. A much larger group that had abducted dozens of kids, and was willing to kill to hold onto us.

These otters were capable of traversing the stars. There was infrastructure there, a society, entire planets feeding the group that was hunting me down. I tried to imagine what it would be like, being the enemy of even a small military back on earth. Thousands of soldiers trained and armed, ready to haul me back to whatever hole they wanted to keep me in.

And that was just an Earth military.

How many million otters were out there, wearing those insignias? Did I even have the right order of magnitude? The otters were spacefaring, there could be billions.

For the first time I began to wrap my head around the enormity of what had to be out there, somewhere, for me to be standing here.

I felt very small under the alien sky.

The new armored Vorak helped Courser to its feet from where it fell. It didn’t take its eyes off Nai, but paid Tasser almost no attention. Did it know Tasser was out of rounds? Or did it only know that the bolt rifle had to reload after each shot?

I tried to stay engaged, we were still in danger. I couldn’t shut down now. If I lost it, Daniel could fall apart, and this time he might not be coming back.

The only thing that kept me from curling up into a ball on the spot was the fact that the timer in my mind still hadn’t started. Daniel was still cogent enough to hold the button down.

Nai, Tasser, and I stared down the pair of Vorak for a few tense seconds. It didn’t last because Nemuleki recognized what no one else had yet: the truck had blown past Courser. We were up the road from it again.

While the rest of us were focused on the more exigent threats, Nemuleki dove behind the control sticks for the truck, and we started rolling again. I lost my footing and fell down. But Nai wasn’t so clumsy. They tossed the pistol to Tasser who took it in favor of the spent bolt-rifle. He immediately started firing two shots at a time. Nai dropped to one knee and summoned a smoldering mote of teal-fire in their palm, ready to use.

The new Vorak slashed through the snow in front of it with one of their blades. It left a shimmering pane of material in its wake. Where it cut, new crystalline growths grew up in a flash to cover them from Tasser’s gunfire.

Both Courser and the newcomer dropped behind it. Tasser spaced out his shots as the truck started to gain speed, he didn’t seem like he thought he’d hit. His shots were aimed at the space the Vorak’s heads would be if they got up from behind the barrier. He was just covering us, keeping them down while we tried to escape.

My heart sank as we turned the corner on the switchback again. I could see a second vehicle further down the road, close to where I’d buried Nai. That was presumably how the new Vorak had gotten here.

It had transport. It would be able to chase us.

But when Nai held their teal-flame up, ready to catch any of them that tried to charge up the slope and catch us again, none came.

The truck plowed its way up the switchback road, over the ridge and past without any further interference from the two Vorak.

For five minutes more, Tasser kept his gun trained on the road behind us, ready for our pursuers.

But after long enough, Tasser collapsed in the bed of the truck, not unlike me, breath heaving. If the pistol was out of bullets too, then we were completely out of weapons. Nai’s fire was the only thing we had left.

Tasser seemed to be satisfied we weren’t being pursued immediately but I didn’t share his optimism.

Feeling paranoid, I didn’t let my eyes leave the road behind us for hours. I was shivering cold without the tarp to shield me from the wind, but I didn’t look at the sights. Any second now, the car with two Vorak and a pair of panther-hounds would round the corner behind us and…

Who knows what would come after that?

I noticed Tasser glance toward the empty seat in the truck’s cabin, but then he looked at me and Nai, both of us watching behind us, expecting our pursuers again any second. He stayed in the back of the truck.

Daniel eventually said.

I told him,

Suddenly my whole body was shaking.

Tasser and Nai both didn’t seem to notice. Shivering from the cold, trembling under the horrifying knowledge that you’ll never be safe; what was the difference?

“” I realized, “”

My realization went one step further, “” I said.

More than anything else since being abducted, that crushed me.

I would never be able to go back.

Maybe I would return to Earth one day, I still believed it was physically possible. How could it not be?

But I’d never make it back to the home I’d left behind. I’d been taken from there, and in the same moment home had been taken from me.

A place to be safe? Where you could trust that people you cared about would be safe too?

How could that place still exist after what happened to us?

<…what can I do to help?>

I was seething. I’d lost something weeks ago, but I was only just now realizing it.

I said, insulted.

I practically spat the words in my mind.

Daniel enunciated the last word, quoting myself back to me.

Daniel said,

Daniel said,

How much did Daniel remember of the moment it all went wrong?

I hadn’t believed my ears when he had accused me of knowing more than I was letting on. He’d said I wasn’t scared enough. But I had been scared.

I just hadn’t wanted to show it.

‘It’s not wrong to be weak’. The words had been one of the first times I’d really disagreed with one of my friends back home. We hadn’t quite seen eye to eye on what ‘weak’ meant, but when I’d disagreed with my friend, Tom, I’d been focused on mentality and attitude. Nothing physical.

I was looking a part of myself in the eye. I didn’t want to be someone that couldn’t stay composed. I wanted to persevere in the face of difficulty. That was something I felt like I should do. Wasn’t weakness, real weakness, failure to rise to the occasion, failure to try?

Daniel said, He didn’t continue, prompting me to finish his thought.

I said.

Daniel gave an invisible mental nod.

I wanted to say, ‘yes’ or ‘of course’. But Daniel was right when he said he knew me. I wanted to refuse any weakness I had. Because my weakness wouldn’t help me, not in the face of what was bearing down on me.

I felt a streak of the same shame I’d felt when I’d seen Daniel’s body. Abject failure, even in my own biased judgement.

Daniel had said this was the opposite problem from what I’d started with. I’d rejected the reality in front of me. But wasn’t that what I was doing still?

There were aliens hunting me.

Aliens.

Honest to goodness, real life, aliens.

And I was trying to keep a brave face, and stay cool headed in the face of danger. Looking back, it was a small miracle I’d even been able to move the past few days. We’d struck it right on the nose the very first time.

Half the reason I’d been able to function up until now was because I hadn’t tried to pretend that I wasn’t scared. What changed? What made me so self-conscious now?

Was there even a cause?

The normal response was to break down, to be scared, and cry.

Daniel said,

I tried to joke. It felt lame, stupid. But Daniel gave a chuckle.

Daniel ordered,

Daniel had told me how much it seemed to harm him to send me less ordered thoughts. But nonetheless, for five full seconds he sent me a complex blend of feelings.

Sympathy. Respect. Fear. Supportiveness. Apathy. A complete and utter absence of judgement.

It caught me off guard, but the apathy actually was more freeing than his tacit acceptance. The idea that he didn’t care if I cried or not was what ultimately broke down my reticence. It wasn’t that he didn’t care if I was okay or not. He just didn’t care if I chose to let myself cry, or if I picked some other outlet.

It didn’t matter.

There was too much going on around me. I was only one person. Two, at the most.

There had been ‘one more’. I’d made it through that ‘one’, only for there to be even more. It was just too much for me to handle. There would be more. And more. And more.

I cried.