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?? CHAPTER 18 ??
Macie
I don’t like this. The calendar chart from the alien stones in the cave is “accurate,” in that it matches what I’ve recorded so far. The maps are harder to interpret - these aliens used symbols and images that make little sense to me, but once I start decoding it, it’s matching up with my map, too.
All of which suggest that this weather cycle chart could be correct? Weather on earth was impossible to chart and track. We could barely get our guesses right within a longer range than a week. This chart... it could be a history? Or it could mean that this planet has predictable, regular weather. Sounds like good news.
But that tornado surrounded by clouds looks like bad news.
The chart has the storm - that deluge soon after we landed. This might be real. We might be in danger.
I haven’t seen much of Ryle since we returned to our camps a few days ago. He’s seemingly disappeared into his own crew, his own work. I can’t say that I’ve been very available to chat myself. I did send him a photo of my boobs last night, though. What can I say? I’m weak. He’s really picking up a lot of words and phrases, and just as I was falling asleep, he texted me, “Good night, my beautiful little human. I wish to touch your soft skin soon. I miss you at sleep.” Okay, not perfect, but he gets his point across. And the message was so sweet. I started to write something mushy back, but it occurred to me that what he would really like was a naughty photo.
He replied with a picture of his grin, so close to the camera and so huge that it takes up the entire frame all by itself. All teeth. I laughed so hard I woke up my neighbor on the ship’s floor.
I don’t find him in his camp when I look the next morning. His crew is spread out - some doing whatever they’re doing out in the wilderness, some helping us back at our camp. I find a few taking a break amongst their own structures on the riverbed. They’ve built up little lean-to shelters using nothing but branches. They’re extremely primitive, but I swear they get larger and more elaborate every time I’m down here.
I find one of them - Kinoth? The one with indigo patterns - and ask him, “Where’s Ryle?”
He points away, towards the golden grasses where I first met him. I haven’t been back there since. “He is with our ship.”
“Thank you!”
“Welcome, human,” he says with a grin, proud of the words he’s learning. “Happy to assist.”
I wave as I walk away. We really did luck out, landing on this planet with this particular batch of aliens. Imagine if they were more vicious? If they decided we made good pets, or snacks, or... worse? Ryle’s explanation for where they were from was scary. They’re basically genetically modified soldiers. They’ve got the physicality, they’ve got the skills, but they don’t have the attitude I’d expect. Hell, they’re more respectful than a lot of the human males I’ve had the misfortune of working with back on earth. And they’re laid back, and helpful, and eager to learn.
I can see why they were considered a failure by whoever or whatever created them. They’re hardly a batch of merciless mercenaries. Packing them into a ship and aiming it at the sun, though... that’s beyond fucked up. Can’t really wrap my head around that one.
The grasses are taller than I can see, but I know from our maps where to go, so I brush my way through. Miraculously, nobody’s been attacked by any animals yet. There are insects amongst the blades here, but they react to my presence with their version of disgust. I’m grateful and insulted at the same time.
His ship is just on the other side of this field, in an open area of shorter, more orange grass. I’m both amazed and disappointed when I see it - this is an alien spaceship? It’s rusty, and boxy, and pock-marked from who knows what damage. It’s the alien version of an abandoned old car up on blocks.
I guess it makes sense. You wouldn’t send a nice ship hurtling into the sun. I swallow that thought away. “Ryle?”
“My mate!” I hear his voice echo from... somewhere. “I come!” Something clangs from under the ship, and I spot him there. Or rather, just his feet. He’s on his back, looking up into a panel on the ship’s underside. If this is its underside. It could be upside down for all I know.
“Don’t rush!” I call back, “I’ll wait!” The suns are up in a clear blue sky - just as predicted on the weather wheel. I sit on the soft orange grass and watch him. His tail lashes slowly back and forth as he works. He makes the occasional grunt, and finally, a sound that’s suspiciously like a curse. He hurls a tool away and rolls out from under the ship.
“Computers won’t talk,” he grumbles. “No talk, no...“ he grasps at the air for a word. “No commands. No go.”
“No go,” I agree, “Our ship is a no-go, too.” I sigh.
He crouches in front of me. “You come see me,” he says, and he smiles.
“I wanted to show you something.”
“Show me?” His hands form cups in front of his chest and he raises his eyebrows. It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about my boobs. I knew sending him that picture was too much!
I laugh. “No! Not that, I wanted to show you these charts.”
He huffs. “Charts dull. Word for these?” He cups his hands again.
“Breasts. Or boobs. Or tits.”
“Show tits or no more work.”
Oh my God, he’s ridiculous. But why not? We seem to be alone here. I pull down the zipper of my jumpsuit and then tug down my bra. His eyes are so focused on me, so rapt, I doubt an earthquake could shake him out of it. I pull the cups of my bra down slowly, reveling in his attention. He licks his lips. My nipples pebble as they’re exposed to the cooler air. “Very beautiful, Maysee.”
