6. Chapter Six

5days, 2 hours, 43 minutes EST remaining "It's getting dark." Her comment broke the relentless silence between them. Damn, she missed how easy their relationship had been when she'd gone to sleep the night before.

"Yes. This planet has longer light-cycles than dark-cycles. It is one reason why the trees grow so swiftly. However, the dark is approaching. There are creatures that hunt during dark-cycles. They will be coming out and are too dangerous to face with only two of us."

"How much farther are we walking today?" She'd trudged onward, without complaining, but seven hours of walking had drained her.

"It is time for you to rest. While you do, I will keep watch over you as I promised."

Mari inwardly sighed. She preferred when they were talking about anything and everything, and when Crey was using the weird endearments he was making up. Not a single endearment of any kind had been used since they'd escaped the ship.

When they'd balanced the packs, Crey had done as she'd requested and put throwing spurs into her pack. His instruction on the explosive spurs had been limited to showing her how to arm them. Crey had also programmed Mari's databand with the secret location of the relay station base. Those Gaiians and their secrets. The secrecy had worked out for them this time—a hundred Thalarins weren't dive-bombing this secret base, or waiting for them to arrive.

Mari shouldn't complain.

But, she'd felt like an outsider, one who would never make it in, and today hadn't helped that. The misunderstanding. The fight. The secrets. The silence. The strain of the day had worn on her mood.

After they'd settled the packs, they had taken a quick break to relieve themselves. Mari had kept one hand on her saber while peeing. That was not the way she was leaving the universe.

Then, they were back on their way. They'd stopped only to drink, eat, and relieve themselves from there on out. This portion of the planet's terrain wasn't that rugged, and Crey's pace was probably as slow as he could go, so the hiking wasn't brutal. But, it was a long day—an awful day. Without their typical conversations, Mari had endless time to dwell in the ugly morass of her thoughts.

She was being ridiculous. She often separated from the other crew while collecting the samples she needed and spent hours by herself.

This was even beautiful scenery, when it wasn't attempting to kill them, which was all the damn time. Damn beautiful planet. They'd skirted lakes and hopped across shallow streams. Mari had followed Crey over thick fallen trees which were twice her size. This planet's environment was amazing—deadly, but amazing.

Mari should have been too transfixed, or busy killing plants, to notice the silence and miss their easy conversations. Nope. The silence was as loud as a roar. Whether he realized it or not, Crey had been courting her with his words and attention, as much as his actions. Their time on this damn planet felt like a gap in their courtship. It was a sharp contrast to the rest of their days together.

Crey was supposed to show her how to throw the spurs. Then, she could impress him with her aim, which was probably incredible. She'd played a bazillion games of darts at Earthen outposts. Spurs were similar. Crey hadn't offered to show her, and she hadn't asked.

Admittedly, her Gaiian was doing some deep thinking. She'd killed a ton of plants that'd wanted a bite of a distracted Crey. She was positive Crey was tracking the other lifeforms in the area as he'd killed quite a few creatures that had attacked them. But, every damned thing on the planet had turned out to be carnivorous, including all the flowers and fern-like flora.

She'd had her saber ready, just as much as he'd had a blade drawn. There'd been a determination on her part not to let the plants win. She would rather die than explain that her proposed mate was dead by fern.

Hells, if that happened, she'd make up a glorious story to tell everyone and never feel an ounce of guilt for lying. Crey? He died when a Thalarin fleet ship crashed on top of him after he'd shot it down with an explosive throwing spur.

No. Guilt. Well, not about lying. If a fern killed Crey, she'd feel guilty forever. She'd have failed both as his intended mate and as a botanist. Neither insects nor plants could win points against them. Both were personal—in different ways.

On the other hand, if the fauna on this planet got them, well, hells, they'd tried. The ambushes by wildlife were growing more frequent. Curiosity had shifted to hunger, and, every hour, the monster attacks, both flora and fauna, were increasing exponentially. They were probably also being tracked by other more cunning creatures that were waiting for an opportune time to pounce. Tomorrow would be so much fun!

Mari beheaded another fern and hissed at its friends just as Crey turned.

"Botanists are not as nurturing toward plant life as you suggested when we first met in the alley," he observed.

"These leafed monstrosities?" Mari gestured at the retreating plant life. "They're making poor choices, and, if they continue to bring it, I'll burn their house to the ground."

"With fire?" Crey's eyes widened, as if she might go on a pyro-rampage any second.

"No, it's an expression." Mari stepped closer. "Crey, can we call a truce for tonight?"

"Truce?" He met her gaze. "We are not at war, Mari."

"Aren't we? You haven't said more than a few words to me all day."

"I was reworking plans. Furthermore, you did not initiate conversation—that implied you needed quiet to contemplate your feelings."

"Oh."

"You always speak when you wish. Often reciprocation of speech is not even necessary."

Mari tilted her head. "From anyone else, I would assume that saying I talk just to hear myself speak was an insult, but not from you."

"I always enjoy listening to you. Additionally, I have made provisions so your speech does not detract from my vigilance. My databand has been learning the various sounds you make—both speech and otherwise—to filter out those noises, enabling detection of potentially harmful sounds." He frowned at his databand. "It did not make much progress during this light-cycle." Crey's expression was the tiniest bit scolding.

She threw her hands in the air. "I had no idea you wanted me to babble all day." It was sweet that Crey was training his databand to ignore her and detect danger, so he could give her his attention.

Crey stopped beside an enormous tree that had a wide opening at its base. Nice. It was a naturally-occurring tent.

Also, the tree he'd picked was one of the few safe species on this planet. Several species had a sentience classification of 3, which was rare for flora. Classification 4 required the ability to conceive and execute plans with other sentient beings, and that was a good portion of the wildlife here, but, thankfully, no plant life. With how aggressive those flowering plants had been earlier, they could have taken over the planet if they could mobilize.

How was this a planet dying from an insect infestation? What insects had dared take on these nasty plants? If they were meaner than the plants, how had Crey's people restored balance? Though "balance" was a generous term. This damned planet hovered on the knife's edge. The cycle of life happened every second around Mari. When they weren't attacking Crey and Mari, the monsters and plants were savaging each other.

Yes, indeed, Crey had dropped them on a planet with the most violent flora Mari had ever encountered. Yet, Lyatan was a crop planet—somehow. The lumber harvested was probably from trees that could and would fight back. That might be the way the Gaiians preferred it. Where was the fun of conquering without battle? So, they battled for all their supplies, including lumber.

"Why should I not wish to converse or listen to your speech?" Crey asked abruptly.

"I thought you didn't want to talk because of that whole thing earlier." She removed her backpack while clenching her teeth. Ow. Her muscles were pissy. They'd lightened her pack, but her shoulders hadn't been ready for a marathon hike. She was getting annoyed Wanda had chosen today to grow a personality too. How much of today was due to that fiasco aboard Crey's ship? Hells, the whole day might've been with how fast his ship had been going. She'd noticed it slowing prior to them getting tossed out, but a minute of them chatting might equal a lot of landscape to traverse.

"I have acknowledged that I was wrong and said that I will try to do better. I want that, Mari—to be a good mate and give you what you need." His expression was sincere and conciliatory.

The endless hike had allowed her to consider Crey's potential for strong emotions. Ironically, his temper tantrum earlier was almost conclusive proof that Crey could and would love her—eventually. Her Gaiian could, clearly, feel cranky to the maximum level. Scientifically, the presence of a polarity strongly suggested its opposition was also possible.

It was worth the risk—Crey was worth it. Not that Mari had much of a choice in spending time with him right now, but she also wanted to be with him. Though, it'd be preferable if they were getting along, and they both were aware they were getting along.

"I was wrong too," Mari admitted. "I should have told you what was happening with your ship, prior to when it became a complication. One minute, we were sitting there, and I didn't want to interrupt your vengeful planning. Then, I asked about our next move, and we were gone. I didn't realize our exit was on your schedule." She'd assumed Crey had quickly readied to leave the ship because she'd initiated the conversation, not that her timing had been good.

Crey removed his pack and set it beside the tree. "In the future, I will explain myself and ask questions. I am not accustomed to requesting input, to say nothing of explaining myself. That is not usual among my people."

"It would be helpful if you explained yourself occasionally." He was damned secretive—about his people and about everything. "Maybe, then, all my reactions wouldn't catch you by surprise."

Crey smiled, an incredibly welcome sight. "I can guarantee you will always surprise me, nopha lau'nen. I eagerly anticipate this about you. I have prepared for so many scenarios that it is refreshing to have positive surprises, not solely obstacles that require more planning."

Mari returned his smile. It was a relief to be called a "wild variable" again. "Your ship will be okay, right? Won't the Thalarins hunt for Wanda?"

"Yes, they will. I sent my ship to a cave system on the far side of the planet. It will go inside and shut down all systems. Without even heat signatures present, the Thalarins may overlook…Wanda."

"I hope so." Mari arched her back, stretching out stiff muscles. Yikes. It was a long day. "It would be a shame if Wanda realized she was sentient and, then, boom! Gone."

Crey rummaged through his pack. "Moreover, the food in the replicator would be lost."

Mari wanted to both sigh and laugh. It would be difficult getting her intended to care about things beyond her, and, now, food.

"It would be no great loss if it was all broccoli." Crey paused in his rummaging and looked up. "You did not include anything in your pack besides those granola bars. Your meals will be nutritionally deficient."

Hells, that might be a high point of this journey across Predator Planet. His concern was cute, though. "It's fine in the short-term. I ate like that all through my university courses, and I turned out okay."

Crey's narrowed eyes spoke to his sincere doubt that Mari could survive a few days without the dreaded broccoli. Wow, she'd blasted herself in the foot with that meal choice. He'd be giving her grief for the rest of their lives if she skipped her vegetables. At least replicated corn wasn't awful. Maybe Mari could convince him pizza was healthy because of the tomato sauce.

"You could eat a protein bar, but I did not calculate how much you are to be fed, nor is it in my databand's information. We would not wish to overfeed you."

"You make me sound like a pet you're trying to keep alive."

Crey tilted his head as if evaluating the veracity of this comparison. "My sister had thoughts on that subject. She is in an obstinate phase. I think, among other races, pets are not as ferocious as you. However, most Gaiians only keep pets which could potentially kill them."

"This planet makes a lot more sense now."

"I would not keep any of the creatures here as pets, not with you also under my care."

Mari raised her eyebrows. "Were I not in the picture, which of these lovely critters would you keep to nurture and cherish? The flying set of fangs that tried to tear your arm off? Or that reptilian creature with eyes like ours that dropped from the trees and roared at you before its head exploded from your blast? Wait, no, I got it, the worm the size of my arm—the one that exploded from the ground with an eye toward making you…less of a man."

"The first," he said after a few moments' consideration. "I believe that flying creature could be trained. Eventually. Furthermore, according to our records, its bite is incapacitating, rather than deadly." Crey resumed searching through his pack.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something adequate for Earthen bedding."

"I packed a hammock—maybe." Mari crouched beside him.

"Hammock?"

"It might have been a net or trap." Even if Gaiians were given a hammock, they'd use it offensively. Within seconds of handing a Gaiian a hammock, they'd have it weaponized.

Crey found the netting. "It is for traps." He held up the netting, wearing a critical expression. "This will not provide either cushioning or coverage." The skepticism was abundant in his tone.

"No, with a hammock, you tie each end to a tree and sleep in the rope pouch between them."

Realization dawned, and Crey eagerly pulled open the package.

"Also, I could use the parachute for either cushioning or as a blanket," Mari said.

"That is very possible. Your ideas are remarkably inventive." Crey eyed the interior of the tree and carried the netting to one side. "I will have much to tell my people, when it is once again possible. They will be impressed my intended has such advanced battle strategies."

"I noticed you used them effectively against the Thalarin ships after we fell out of the ship."

"Yes. I wish I could have told those Thalarins, before they died, that their deaths were due to a preprogrammed assault strategy developed by an Earthen botanist and executed by a ship named Wanda."

Mari zapped another fern with her saber. Pernicious creeps.

"We have kept captives suspended in these," Crey commented while twisting the drill-end of a hook into the tree's trunk. "I should have considered the possibility that we could keep you captive while you sleep."

"‘Captive' is an odd word choice."

"We are trapping you in a net so that you may be held securely while you hibernate."

"I'm not hibernating."

"Your core temperature drops, as does your pulse rate, and it is for an extended amount of time." Satisfied with the placement of the first hook, Crey crossed to drill the second hook into the tree.

"I'm sleeping a normal amount of time for my race. Normal."

Crey nodded in this stupid pacifying way.

Mari glared. She did sleep a normal amount of time.

Crey grabbed the net and knotted each end creatively, forming a pouch to hang between the hooks. Crey attached the "hammock" to the hooks, stabbing the points through the tied knots. He pressed down on the middle. "This is most interesting. We, as Gaiians, assumed we were punishing our captives by confining them in netting. Many of them may have enjoyed it."

Shaking her head at her ridiculous Gaiian, Mari entered into the hollow tree and pushed down on the hammock too. That should work. She squeaked as hands closed around her waist and lifted her onto the hammock. "Crey, I could have gotten up on my own."

"I wanted to test your hammock, and you were being unnaturally timid."

After rotating around, Mari lay on her back, dragged her legs up, and wriggled to get into a comfortable position.

"I will go retrieve our packs before native creatures steal them." Crey returned with the packs and rummaged through his. "Here it is. Perimeter fencing."

Mari sat and twisted to hang her legs off the hammock. "I've never used those."

"Gaiians do not share them with other races. We did not actually design them. We strongly convinced a Loturrian to invent them for us. Though, we did pay him well."

She should help Crey see why it was wrong to intimidate other races into helping them, but that was a problem for another day. "Why aren't you selling this perimeter fencing?"

"If we sold portable electronic fencing to all races, they would be able to use it against us. The credits are not worth the trade-off."

After tapping a few buttons, he set down the cylinder in the arched entrance to their tree fort. The device itself was no bigger than the "nostalgic" lightsticks which were such a fad among Earthens. A beam of light rose up and traced the area immediately in front of the cylinder, as well as behind it, before forming an energy door filling the entrance completely with a humming current. The world outside of the tree was still visible, but the view was slightly fogged, which was nice. It might help her forget that every living entity on the other side of the shielded doorway wanted her dead.

"That looks like what sealed your hull in the cargo bay." The energy shield had the same fogged appearance. "Wait, did you fix that while I was sleeping?"

"Yes, I fixed the hull. The perimeter fencing resembles the hull-shielding as it is the same principle, but adapted for this use. That is why we needed a Loturrian to design what we wanted." Leaning down, Crey pointed to a button on the device. "Turn this off to go outside and, then, hit this button when you return. If you brush against the shielding, you will receive a shock warning the first time. Should you immediately hit it a second time, the surge will be enough to throw you backward. If you try again, the final surge is fatal."

"These three touches need to be around the same time for the zaps to escalate, right? If I bump against the shielding once a day, I won't be dead by day three, will I?"

"No, they must be close in time. Additionally, the shielding does recognize biosignatures. If that reptile attacked it, and, then, you touched the shielding, you would both get the first surge."

"That's good to know." She wouldn't be killed because everything on the planet was fighting its way in just as Mari knocked her elbow against the shield.

An angry creature with wings threw itself against the shield as if to demonstrate its effectiveness.

Crey nodded. "Good. I may need to kill what has gathered on occasion, if other creatures do not devour the carcasses themselves."

Great. Awesome. What sexy ambience for their courtship! "This is a lovely planet. I can't imagine why you haven't built a vacation home here."

"Sarcasm." Crey's mouth twitched in a near smile as he pulled bars for them from the packs. "I am learning to recognize it more quickly." It was cute that he was trying—for her.

"What will you be doing while I sleep?" Mari accepted the granola bar he held out.

Crey frowned while examining the tree's semi-spacious interior. As big as the area was, a limited number of activities could be accomplished inside a tree. "I am not certain. Plan possibly."

"Come here. I think the hammock will hold your weight too."

He straightened. "It should. We have used the netting to transport small crafts below the ship."

"Cool. Oh, bring the parachute. I want to see how comfortable it is."

Obeying her, Crey brought the parachute and his protein bar to the hammock. He sat beside her. His weight caused Mari to tip into him and smoosh against his side. Crey smiled down at her.

"Here." Mari took Crey's arm and wrapped it around her. The heavy weight and warmth of his arm were comforting after the day's misunderstandings. "I like this."

"This so-called hammock?"

"No. Well, yes, but mostly you." The fading sunlight emboldened her. "I like you."

After staring at Mari for a long moment, Crey lifted up the folded parachute. "Is this adequate for warmth?"

"No. You'll need to lie down beside me and hold me." Mari would make Crey love her. She'd decided on this goal during the endless speed-walking.

"While you sleep?"

"Yes."

"I will not be able to kill predators for you." Crey gestured toward the barrier where many tall shadows were gathering.

"They'll keep."

"It is not tactically sound for me to be prone with a net impeding my movements."

"But, you'll be able to rest and recover your energy for when you need it tomorrow to kill everything out there before they kill us."

He considered this before acquiescing with, "If that is what you wish."

While they ate their food, the shield rebuffed several more creatures. The encroaching darkness shrouded the creepy things, making their features difficult to distinguish. One of them had fur. The scent of burnt hair lingered following that attack.

"They are learning," Crey commented. "They are not attacking a second time." He finished his protein bar. "It is possible they will burrow under the shielding and attack."

"Why are you smiling about that?"

"It will be an interesting development if they adapt their strategy."

"There were also those nasty things that sprung up from the ground—they might get in," Mari said.

"That is not a strategy. That is their standard attack. It will not be interesting; it will be a nuisance."

Mari handed him the empty wrapper when Crey motioned for it. They would biodegrade in soil rapidly, but it was probably wise to pack them out of an unknown planet. Getting up, Crey stowed them in his pack as a massive creature threw itself against the shield. Mari flinched as the creature roared, enraged. Crey didn't so much as blink.

"They may also encircle us as the light-cycle dawns and attack us as we emerge," Crey said.

"I can't really see you, but I'm fairly certain you're smiling again. It's a good thing we stopped to relieve ourselves before we came in. I'm almost certain killing whatever that huge monster was, in order to pee; well, the peeing might happen prematurely."

"I would kill it to enable you to take care of…that," Crey promised. It was sweet—in a way.

Mari hopped off the hammock and spread out the parachute. The thin silk material had a fancy cloaking capability, but wasn't particularly warm. Still, it was nice to have something resting on top of her when she slept. The parachute was large enough to be underneath them also. Mari spread the material across the hammock and folded it over. Cool. A silky sleeping bag.

"What are you doing?" Crey asked, joining her.

"I'm putting the parachute beneath us, so the netting isn't pressed up against our skin."

"Earthens." Crey shook his head.

A waist-high furry animal threw itself against the barrier. Zap! It shrieked. The animal growled angrily before stalking off.

Mari climbed onto the hammock and lifted the parachute as Crey slid onto it. They laid down, side by side.

"Strange." Crey lay still and stiff like a corpse. "This will be adequate for all your sleeping needs as an Earthen?"

"It'll do. Normally, I sleep with a pillow and an actual blanket, but this works."

He turned his face toward hers. "All my future plans will include pillows and other items appropriate for your sleeping needs."

"It's cool. We can work with what we have." She lifted her upper body. "Now, put your arm around me again."

Crey did so, watching her steadily.

Mari shifted to her side and laid on Crey's chest, wrapping her arm around his middle.

"Mmm." The sound rumbled in his chest.

"This doesn't provide quick ease of movement," Mari noted.

"I find that acceptable right now." Crey settled the parachute blanket around them. "Will you sleep thus?"

"That's the intention—unless you need to get up."

"No. Not unless something burrows in."

They lay like that for a while, listening to creatures throw themselves against the shields. The warmth of Crey's body seeped into hers, and he gradually relaxed. Each time his posture loosened, he would adjust his arms around her to be more secure. Despite the atmospheric screech and scream of angry critters, Mari knew, to the depth of her soul, she was safe here with Crey. She knew that.

Actually, all in all, this was nice. It was like camping together. That could be romantic. It was even mostly comfortable. A tingling sensation in the arm pressed against the hammock was getting annoying. She lifted up.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"My left arm is going to sleep."

"That arm is ahead of the rest of your body."

Mari grinned. Cute. "No, I meant my arm wasn't getting enough circulation. Is it okay if I lie on top of you…somewhat?"

Crey cleared his throat. "If that is what you need."

"You can toss me off you if a monster burrows in to murder us. You have my absolute permission to do that." Mari draped herself further across him. Hm. This was cozy. Her leg was certainly in an interesting place, and Crey's body agreed—a hard agree basically.

His arm, which had been around her, tentatively settled around her waist. "Earthens sleep like this?"

"Sometimes."

"I begin to see why they might sleep so long while prone."

If not for the exhaustion pulling on her, Mari couldn't have slept atop Crey, not right away. Even with her eyes closing of their own accord, arousal hummed like a background noise, coursing through her veins. She wanted this weird but wonderful Gaiian.

"I will keep you safe, mehthin taugh," he murmured, as more monsters threw themselves against the shield.

"I know, Crey. I trust you."

His response was a pleased sigh. His other hand settled on her back.

Nice. This was very nice. Possibly even perfect. Yep—perfect.

Crey was in the most pleasurable pain he had ever known. Holding Mari while she slept brought him peace, despite his heart pounding and his body tight with arousal. This was beyond words. Even Earthens, with all their words to describe each emotion and reaction they experienced, could not possibly have a word for how this made him feel.

Crey had used his intended's previous sleeping time to get many goals accomplished. It had proven productive as Mari could not distract him from doing things for her benefit. That had seemed the preferable expenditure of his time. No more. If he was not beside her like this, that knowledge would be distracting. Crey would know he was missing this intimacy.

Crey would acquire additional sensors to set up further monitoring, once they retrieved his ship, so he could do this if requested.

"Mmm," Mari murmured in her sleep, moving restlessly until she was comfortable. Her new position left him pleasantly uncomfortable.

Breathe deeply.He was master of his baser instincts. He had control.

Were they "baser instincts" when accompanied by this other feeling? Crey's chest had stung with an aching tightness when he could not find her. Then, there had been a burning heat in that same region when Mari had wrapped his arm around her. Both times, his chest had felt full, as if it contained more than his organs.

Another creature threw itself against the shield. This one hissed when it was given a warning surge. Their upcoming rotation would be very interesting.

He would try more industriously to keep his intended happy going forward. He was running out of time. Even in his most unlikely scenarios, Crey had not planned a courtship such as this one. Then again, he had a nopha lau'nen. His wild variable hummed in her sleep and tucked her head farther under his chin.

She had been such a warrior this light-cycle. She was as aggressive as the creatures throwing themselves against the shield when she was protecting him. He had left defeating plant life to Mari on their walk here, trusting she knew which were dangerous. She had killed them one by one.

This match was truly a blessed one. The Greater Beings had chosen far better than he might have chosen for himself.

Mari jerked against him and raised her head, looking into his eyes. "Hi, Crey."

"Greetings, Mari. It is still within your allotted sleep time."

A soft smile graced her lips. "I know. I forgot to do the goodnight kiss thing." Shifting forward, she kissed his chin. "Good night, Crey."

"Good night, Mari." As his intended closed her eyes, Crey was struck with an unusual thought—holding her was like Earthen poetry. They used images and seemingly incongruent words as their feelings could not be described in any other way. He felt hot like a sunrise. His mind was caught on her, drawn to her, as if Mari was a gravitational force. These comparisons did not make sense; however, in this moment, they did.

Earthens were not a sentimental stookt race. They had words for the vastness of their feelings. They held each other during dark-cycles, even when both were asleep and would not notice. They were sometimes like Mari—brash, contrary, and brave. His Mari. She was his to keep and to hold. This soft warm woman was his mate to feel things for—wild things—impossible things—things that might be a Gaiian falling in love.