Charalee
A gurgle in front of her let Charalee know that one of the lura had found her. She swore under her breath, more out of frustration than anything else. The power problem on Prospero was real, and the fact that night was rolling on meant that she had limited time to fix it. The engineer she'd cornered soon after leaving her dear sister some hours before had explained the situation, albeit in a stuttering, almost incoherent matter. Still, Charalee had reviewed the information enough to understand why the Compound had yet to get its power restored. Another gurgle pulled her out of her ruminations. While the lura was a problem, she wasn't too concerned. She'd killed a couple of them so far, and though they were tough--and smelly--she didn't have to worry about what they could do to her. The skin-sheath alone was protection enough from their teeth and claws. The problem was that others tended to become afraid whenever they showed up. She didn't appreciate them complicating her problems. The lura snuffled closer, its nose close to the ground. This one's shape was different than the others--in fact, they were all distinct--with a long snout, rimmed with glistening teeth. Two sets of eyes sat atop the boney head, with knobby crests protecting the delicate organs. It walked on its hind legs, with a tail that looked more like a collection of writhing whips than a proper tail. Small arms poked out of the front of its body, the ends of which were an array of three sharp claws. They wiggled as it sniffed, its nostrils on the far end of its snout making a loud suction noise. Charalee curled her lip up in disgust. Inwardly, she wondered how Doctor Trapp could want to investigate the animals. They were revolting, covered in a slimy skin that shimmered in the poor lighting of the connecting hallway that--she'd hoped--would lead her to the Energy wing. Not for the first time did she regret not taking Nolan up on the offer of joining the Compound's network. The lura paused, a long tongue--it would have to be, to go the length of such a snout--flicked out and began to lap up a puddle it had found. Charalee wasn't sure about its contents, but the animal was busy. And, seeing as how its head alone was more than a meter long, she didn't feel particularly curious about getting up close to the end where it consumed its diet. If it wanted to slurp up some toxic chemicals, that wasn't really her concern. Shifting lightly on her feet, she worked her way toward the creature. It had come from the direction she was trying to go, so if she could get past it, that would be best. And despite the fact she wasn't worried about being eaten by a Dentolura, she didn't see the harm in being cautious. No reason to make it worse than it already was. This connecting hallway was packed full of cables and wires, dim lights scarcely lighting the way--which she had her aedee adjust for her, so that hardly mattered--and alcoves, cubbies, and turn offs at almost every six meters. Or so it felt like, at least. The point was, she kept thinking she'd be in the right place at the next turn, only to realize that she was completely wrong. She was tired of making these miscalculations. Getting the power put back so that she could power up the Portal was all that she worried about, and the rest of this trivia could get out of her way. Gritting her teeth, she eased onward, her helmet in one hand, her back pressed against the service tunnel's cable-coated wall. For its part, the lura contented itself with the puddle. Its eyes were facing forward in their sockets, which gave her confidence. So long as it remained focused on the fluid, she would be happy. That wasn't asking too much, was it? Rounding the corner, she kept up the steady, slow pace, not wanting to turn her back on the creature yet. Methodical steps, keeping the wall behind her…it would all turn out okay, she was certain. Her helmet caught on a protruding brace that stuck out from the wall. It wasn't even a caught, it was more of a snag, but the end result was the same: The helmet slipped free from her grasp. The sound of it crashing to the ground echoed painfully in the narrow corridor. Her ears rang with the echoes of it. The lura leaped and spun around, its lengthy jaws wide and menacing. The gurgle, which sounded like an unplugged drain that was still too full of water and waste that it couldn't manage the trick of doing its job, dropped into a lower octave. Charalee swallowed, recognizing the ominous threat despite having had almost no exposure to the lura. She tensed. The aedee sensed her response, noted the increase in adrenaline, the change in surface temperature, and recognized that she was in a dangerous situation. It augmented her senses, a handy trick when one had to fight free of a monster's jaws. The lura leaped forward, moving faster than Charalee expected, its multi-headed tail writhing behind it while its snout split both vertically and horizontally. The long tongue, freed of its boney prison, whirled toward her. Sharp spines ran its length, dripping with a yellowish ichor. Out of reflex rather than training, Charalee flung herself to the right. She crashed into the wall--the corridor was so narrow that she could touch both walls simply by stretching out her arms--but dodged the attack. The tongue snapped back into the lura's face, its jaws clamping together. Pushing free of the wall, Charalee bent down and scooped up the helmet, moving to put it on her head when the tongue pierced it. With a jerk so powerful her shoulders ached trying to stop it, the lura pulled the helmet free of her hands. Charalee yelped in surprises at the speed with which the lura had resumed the attack, and was grateful that the helmet had stopped her from getting her head lanced. The lura's jaws began crushing the helmet, but, to its surprise--and Charalee's relieved amusement--the headgear didn't bend. Holding onto the helmet with its tongue, the lura began to thrash and writhe its body--its tendril-tail doing the same, striking out loudly and harshly against the pipes and the wall of the hallway--as it tried to destroy the thing that it had sucked into its mouth. "Have fun with the ball, bitch," said Charalee, feeling snide, if a little shaken. The helmet was of the same material that Desert Peaks outfitted its soldiers. There wasn't a thing that naturally occurred that could break that armor. It protected the wearer from solar radiation, atmospheric catastrophe, and could even be submerged several kilometers under water. While not quite as durable as her skin-sheath, it was still powerful armor. She turned away, heading toward the exit at a brisk pace. It was a nuisance that she lost her helmet, but it could be replaced. And, besides, that was one less thing to clutter her hands. She didn't like wearing the helmet, so… An ear shattering pop made her spin around. Some ten meters away, the lura stood, its jaws closed, its gullet bouncing, and an angry look in its four eyes. Pieces of shattered helmet littered the ground at the lura's feet. "Well, shit," she said, and turned, sprinting down the tunnel. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of pursuit as the lura began scampering after her. The clawed feet clattered horrendously against the concrete floor, filling her ears as her lungs tried to fill themselves with more and more air. Her aedee took over some of the regulation of oxygen in her body--a new feature that she'd upgraded right before this trip, though it had been more out of impulse than planning--which gave her a stronger push. Powering her legs as fast as she could, Charalee propelled herself toward the exit. Her brown hair whipped behind her. The feeling of her blood thundering through her temples, the coppery taste in the back of her throat, and the imagined image of her own head being in the four-angled jaws of a lura, cracking open much easier than it had that helmet all warred for attention in her mind. She pushed it all free and focused only on running, letting her skin-sheath lend strength to her muscles. The sound of the lura increased. A heavy weight slammed into her, knocking her flat and driving the air from her chest. The creature bounced off, landing and rolling a few meters forward while she skidded on the ground. Groaning, she levered herself onto her hands and knees. The gurgle drew her attention. The lura had regained its feet and now bent low, its jaws clacking together in a staccato rhythm that reminded her of fingernails tapped on plastic. Its gurgle deepened, a wet, ominous sound. Without warning, it burst forward, its claws scrabbling against the cement. That was enough warning for her. Her heart hammering in her chest, Charalee threw herself to the left, crashing against the door as the creature sailed past, its four-segmented mouth wide. The teeth glinted in the poor lighting, and for a moment Charalee felt as though she could count each one. Scrambling against the door as the lura thumped with a furious grunt three meters away, she slapped the jamb, desperate to get her feet under her. The panel beeped--she didn't have access. The door was locked. A numb disbelief swelled within her. This was it. She was going to die in this hallway, and no one would even know it. Torn to pieces and unlamented, Charalee had not expected death to come to her this way. That made her angry. Dying this way was not what she had in mind. If nothing else, survival was the most important thing. The idea of being ripped apart and sucked down that narrow gullet, or crushed by those intimidating jaws, seemed almost insulting. She wasn't even a colonist! She didn't live here, she didn't have any reason to be on Prospero, save it was her job. Her job had killed her. That made her furious. Not only that, but the stupid door wasn't opening because she hadn't bothered downloading a protocol. That she'd been trying to preserve her aedee from any gross detritus picked up from using the Compound's network was the very thing that led to her death struck her as perverse. That made her lethal. Rage coursing through her, she balled her hands into fists and leaped out. The lura, as she'd guessed, hadn't thought that the cornered prey would attack. Surprising the damn thing was a highlight of an otherwise miserable day, and there was a gush of excitement and thrill that coursed through her as she landed on top of the lura's back. Acting quickly but without forethought, she reached around the thing's thick neck, wrapping her elbow around its throat and locking her right hand in place with her left arm. The lura writhed beneath her, and she felt the whips of the tail arch over and rake her back. The skin-sheath did what it was designed to do: It protected her from attack. Hardening into an almost steel-like consistency, the skin-sheath's back surface absorbed the energy from the tail while also protecting her front from the thrusts of what she guessed were retractable spikes that came out of the mouth-like holes in its side. A grim smile crept over her face. Something was going to die right now, but she now doubted it would be her. The lura lurched about, trying to dislodge her as she increased pressure. It was a guess, yes, but Charalee staked her attack on the idea that, like terran animals, there was blood and oxygen--or whatever it was the thing breathed--that circulated through the creature's system. And if it had a brain close to its eyes, like terran animals, then that meant she was making the lura choke. Its movements became more enfeebled while still maintaining its frantic maneuvers. Charalee had her feet on the ground, now, and was able to add her weight to the back of the lura's skull, pushing it down harder while tightening the head-lock with her arms. A longer appendage from the tail slashed down, cutting her scalp from the top to just behind her ear. The pain spiked through her, and she unwittingly let go. The lura scampered free, its claws raking the cement, and ran away. The color of the creature had faded to an almost white, the brown-and-green hue of its skin nearly impossible to see now. A moment after it was released, the lura had left. Charalee stood slowly, her head pounding and her throat raw. It was only now, with the danger gone, that she understood that she'd been screaming at the lura the entire time she'd attacked it. Touching the wound on her head, she winced. It was long, but not particularly deep. Still, the pain was not insignificant. It also wasn't something that she would worry about right now. Arms leaden, she stumbled back to the door. The fight had taken more out of her than she'd expected, though certainly a part of that was lack of food. Breaking atmo wasn't a pleasant experience, and she'd found that piercing a planet's envelope worked better while fasting. As a result, she hadn't much strength left. Still, that wouldn't be enough to stop her. She needed to live, she had to survive. That was all that mattered. Thumping the unresponsive door, she mustered a weak shout. The likelihood that someone was on the opposite side of the portal gave her the energy she needed, but the hope was dwindling. Sounds drifted in from the other side of the door. The words were indistinct, but insistent. Pushing past the exhaustion her body had wrapped itself in, the thudded against the door. She stood only because it took too much effort to sit; when the door dilated, she slumped through and fell into surprised arms. "Good lord," said a voice that she didn't recognize. "Look at all that blood!" "Is she still alive?" asked another. "We're pulling all survivors together, that's what we do," said a voice with a ragged edge of authority. Charalee couldn't see anyone's face, which made her curious and surprised and sleepy. More words blurred together, but it soon became easier to let her eyelids close. Holding them up was a massive effort that she didn't want to deal with. Why deal with anything? Why survive? It was only more pain. She slipped into blackness. |
What is this?This is a NaNoWriMo project that publishes, day by day, the chapters I'm writing for 2017. If you're confused, go to Chapter 1 Ann and start there. ArchivesCategories
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