31. Kira

31

Kira

The forest hums with life as we trek along the biome divide, the transition between the dense, lush greenery and the barren, sandy desert still jarring to look at.

Hours have passed since we left the stream behind, and it has been a challenge to resist the temptation to cross over to the desert biome.

The open expanse, free from the tangled underbrush and relentless shrubbery, beckons. Yet, the memory of that subterranean horror we encountered keeps me rooted firmly on the forest side.

The last thing I need is another close call with a creature from the sands. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

And itch. Damn, so much itching. I might go crazy.

The place where the embedded spikes were is a constant torment begging me to scratch at it. Even worse, whatever allergen or poison was in those things has spread to my entire stomach. From my bikini line to the bottom of my breasts, and around my sides is one big burning itch.

I glance back at Drasuk for a distraction, his massive form lumbering through the foliage. He bulldozes through the shrubs and vines as if they're mere cobwebs. I roll my eyes.

Typical.

My thoughts drift back to Ree and the genali ship. The cold, hard reality of our situation gnaws at me.

I'm hesitant to feel optimistic about their chances of surviving the crash, but then again, if I could survive being flung around in my pod and end up near a part of the ship that broke off, maybe they had a fighting chance, too.

Unwilling to let my mind spiral into a pit of worry, I decide to strike up a conversation with Drasuk. "Tell me what you know about the pink aliens that captured us," I say, my voice cutting through the silence. "The genali."

He turns his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something I can't quite place.

"The slimes, as most of us call them," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "They are a weak race, at least physically. High intelligence, though. They used it to trigger their evolution multiple times. They're still weak, but not as much as before. Even a drak hatchling could take out multiple non-modified genali in combat."

"Really?" I say, feigning nonchalance. "Doesn't sound like much of a threat."

Drasuk lets out a snort. "Don't underestimate them. They have a violent view toward females of all species. And they've become the newest conquerors of the universe. Joined forces with the braceaaer at first, but eventually struck out on their own once they improved their evolution and technology."

"The braceaaer?" I ask, curiosity piqued.

"You killed one."

"Oh, I called it a Graylord. I clearly played too many video games when I was young."

He grunts, then continues. "A similarly violent race. Stronger than they look by several factors. No smarter than the genali. The balance of power between the two has been shifting rapidly in favor of the genali, though I don't know why."

"So the genali are the major players? Weird, but okay. They don't really look like a species that would want to go out and conquer the universe. More like something that would be content to remain hidden in a swamp."

He lets out a mirthless laugh. "If only that were the case. While the genali's home planet is marine-based, most of them become scientists, politicians, soldiers, or, like those who captured us, cabal-sponsored bandits and species traffickers."

I absorb this information, trying to wrap my head around it. "So, they're the ones responsible for this mess. All of it? Not just sex trafficking."

"Yes," he says simply.

I walk in silence for a moment, processing. "What about the manticorid? What are they? The genali didn't share much about them."

His demeanor changes, a hint of reverence creeping into his voice. "They are a superspecies in the truest sense. A felidae-based race with remarkable strength, durability, and a healing factor that makes even drakonid recovery look slow. They have uncanny abilities, like gaining immunity to toxins and poisons after being exposed to them once. This immunity spreads to the entire population."

"Wow," I breathe, genuinely impressed.

Drasuk continues. "They were among the first species to begin an expansion effort, covering more than fifteen galaxies over five millennia. They held their territory until they began to demilitarize and pursue other fields instead of combat. Their decline allowed the xarxisi, then the braceaaer, and subsequently the genali to rise."

"They sound like something out of a myth," I say, half-joking.

"They're real," Drasuk replies, his tone serious. "They were the ones who triggered my species' evolution to assist in their wars. When they stopped their expansion, they granted us independence."

"You sound like you idolize them," I tease.

He nods without hesitation. "In a way, I do. They are worthy of respect."

The sincerity in his voice takes me by surprise. This infuriating creature is capable of genuine admiration.

It's a strange thought.

He lets out a rumbling huff, and when he speaks again, his tone has shifted dramatically. "I also resent how little they have done to deal with the threats we all face."

"What? They just protect their own and leave you to rot?"

"Even worse. They barely protect themselves, too worried about losing their principles. They are going to go extinct when they could instead rise again and radically decrease so many atrocities."

I glance over at him and note that his spines are slumped in a reflection of the heavy topic.

He speaks up again. "It shouldn't have been possible for them to capture one."

"Why not? If they were deities among felines, they wouldn't be in danger of extinction."

"No, no. They aren't invulnerable. I'm shocked to hear it because they destroy themselves in a primal rage if someone tries to contain them. Well, the males do, and of course they chose a male."

"What the fornicate? Their women can't fight?"

"Of course they can, but they don't have venom, and genali keep them as slaves. At least until they die of containment sickness."

"Fornicate. I hate those pieces of excrement."

"I agree with your sentiments, if not your word choice."

"So, we should be looking for a manticorid, then? Not just the rest of the women."

"Absolutely." He lets out a dark, rumbling chuckle. "Clearly the slimes have become over-confident. A Maj'Ra and a manticorid in the same hunting season? They are either suicidal or incredibly stupid."

I let out a low hum in response. "I am loving the sound of this, Drasuk."

He turns to me, raised spines shivering. "I am too, Kira."

We are both grinning like fools as we keep walking, though I'm pretty sure his is a promise of incoming pain, not an actual smile, since he communicates that through the many spines and spikes.

I glance back. Yep, that's a threat, not a smile.

Huh, I guess a lot of my smiles are that too.

As we continue our journey, the forest gradually thickens, the underbrush becoming more tangled and difficult to navigate. Drasuk's presence, while initially a nuisance, now feels reassuring.

Despite his intimidating size and gruff demeanor, he's proving to be a valuable source of information. And also a steady, clever companion.

Even if I don't want one of those.

"So, what do you know about this planet?" I ask, hoping to learn more about our current predicament.

Drasuk pauses for a moment, scanning the surroundings before answering. "I've researched a bit about hunting grounds in my spare time. It's a bit of a forbidden topic and, officially at least, they were outlawed a few generations ago. But that's just political speech for 'this council does not want to get on the genali or braceaaer's bad side.'"

I blink. "Council?"

He lets out a grumble, "It's a loosely allied confederation of sapient races that came together to police the universe during the decline of the Thorisian Empire, of the manticorid, I mean. Emphasis on the term 'loosely allied'."

I nod, unsure of what to do with this new bit of information.

"Information on hunting grounds like these is limited, but from the little I could glean, they are fundamentally terra-engineered to be diverse worlds, split into multiple biomes. The forest and desert are just two of them. There's also a tundra on a northern island, and a small pleasure island between them, according to the official template used in building them. Each biome has its own unique challenges and dangers."

"Great," I mutter sarcastically. "As if surviving the forest and desert weren't enough."

He grunts in agreement. "It's not an easy place to survive, but it's not impossible. You just need to be smart and cautious."

"Good thing at least one of us is taking that little caveat seriously," I grumble as he stomps through a thicket and announces our presence to whoever or whatever is within range.

So much for his quiet steps near the stream.

He doesn't rise to my bait. Or he assumes I was talking about myself. Yeah, the latter.

I roll my eyes and keep walking.

We push through the thick foliage, our progress slow but steady.

Despite the challenges, there's a certain beauty to it all, a sense of being part of something larger and more complex than myself.

My thoughts drift back to the rest of the women. The uncertainty of their fate weighs heavily on my mind. I can't shake the feeling of responsibility, the need to do something to help them. But here, in this strange and dangerous world, I'm not sure where to even begin.

"Do you think the others survived?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

I don't know why I let the question slip out. I don't know why it came out in that tone either, but I freeze up internally, mortified at the underlying implication of the question.

Hard-headed bitch I might be, but one of the few behaviors I can accept is lying to myself.

Since when did I start seeking reassurance from anyone other than myself?

Even worse, why an incorrigible lizard?

Drasuk doesn't answer immediately.

When he does, his tone is surprisingly gentle. "It's possible. Survival often depends on a combination of luck and skill. If they are resourceful and determined, they might still be alive."

It's not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for, but in all honesty, I am happy that it's not. The need to comfort more often than not comes with the need to lie.

That said, they could be alive.

I cling to that small glimmer of hope as we continue our trek.