Tevun-Krus #44 - Sword & Planet

Neutral Planet - A Short Story by @Red_Harvey

Neutral Planet

Clang!

The hit almost knocked her over.

Clang!

Callia had trouble breathing, but continued sparring. Her knee was swelling up, but she swallowed the pain and shifted her weight to the other leg. With the next move, she flourished and pushed her opponent to the far wall.

"Halt!" a clarion voice rang out.

She disengaged from her partner, sword withdrawn to the side. Feeling stifled, she removed her head gear and chest plate.

Panting, Callia said, "Ya almost had me."

"There's always tomorrow," the bot said, it's cerulean lucite form retracting into the interface wall.

The interactive screens lit up, each panel displaying the points won for the past few months, with Callia's name consistently ranking number one. Though fencing was a sport she would never use in the real world, not with her laser pistol on hand anyway, she took pride in her mastery of it. She also suspected the bot sometimes let her win.

There would be no rematch tomorrow, because she would be gone, on assignment to survey a new planet.

~*~

Captain Joseline had assured Callia of the planet's neutrality, meaning surface activity was lacking. She was happy to volunteer for the gig, even though her colleagues had passed on it several times over. Her leg was still healing from the accident, and she wasn't quite ready for a high-level survey.

Callia boarded the aviator pod in preparation. The enclosed space, stark white and decorated with screens and switches, had once intimidated her. Not anymore.

Her friends Pim and Diane waved as the airlock hissed and slid closed. The assignment was for six hours, tops, but she wouldn't see them again for six weeks.

She double-checked the incoming coordinates to ensure a proper landing. It was only her fourth time operating an aviator, and she wanted to do it right. Basic training had only required 100 hours of aviator know-how, but she had spent double the allotment.

"Landing in one minute," the interface intoned, the aviator trembling slightly as if to prove the computer's words.

Passing through the atmosphere caused on overload of the aviator interface, but the issue wasn't uncommon. Switch lights flickered and died, and a slight shift occurred as the ship began a freefall.

"One, two, three..." Callia said, a trick Pim had relayed to calm her.

On "five", the machinery always lit up and the engines roared back to life. Except, nothing happened. This time, the panels and switches remained dark, and cold.

Callia frantically depressed the "start engine" button, but the freefall continued. She slammed her fist on the emergency beacon, but without power, that didn't work either.

A reckless panic lit in her chest. A dragging sensation rooted in her stomach, and moved to her throat. She couldn't breathe.

Darkness took her.

~*~

Something scratched her sides. Callia rolled over, moaning at the stiffness roaring in her muscles.

"Tragla ba. Com ragel bued."

The strange words hit the translator in her ear:"Shhh, ye be whole. Thanks be."

Though she understood the words, the way they were spoken and the final meaning were lost on Callia. She grabbed a handful of the material she was wrapped in, equating it with wool, except the stands running through it shimmered and seemed...alive.

Callia dropped the material with a sharp intake of breath. The roof above her shimmered in a similar fashion, and she rubbed at her eyes to see straight. Yet, the shimmering refused to stop. Even the figure standing before her was dressed in a ridiculously shimmering tunic, with shining helmet hair and black skin like plastic.

"What...where am I?" Callia amended the question to what was most important, hoping the translator would do its job.

She heard her question repeated back in the new language, and waited for a response.

"Treglar, sub-sar quadrant," the host said.

Callia sat up, head spinning. The host inspected her, poking a pointed face near her, no blemishes whatsoever.

"More lounging," the host advised.

The more she saw, the more Callia thought of how full of shit the initial scans of the planet were.

"Neutral my ass," she muttered.

"Say once more? Azz?"

Not keen on explaining, Callia tried to gain back a professional footing with a smile. "I'm with the Learned League, and am grateful for your hospitality. Do you know where my aviator pod is?"

The host stared, head slightly tilted. "Once more?"

Callia dropped her smile and straightened her fingers, zooming and dipping her hand about. "Ship. Have you seen my ship?"

That sparked some know-how.

"Ah, the vessel, yes, it rests near sub-bol quadrant. Very curious vessel, no cloaking," the host said, rubbing its arms and clothes. "Dangerous to remain uncloaked, in the open."

It threw open the front door of the hut, and sauntered out, gesturing for Callia to follow. She did, not realizing her mistake until later.

Outside, large white sentinels surrounded them, blue sheafs hanging from their arms. When they didn't move, Callia figured them for trees. She resisted the urge to caress a leaf, knowing it could be poisonous.

The host strode by them, unconcerned. The ground, a purple clay-like substance, sloped downward quite a ways, leading to a valley. Callia measured her steps, noting the bounce and edge the clay allowed for under her boots.

Pointing, the host said, "Ya ship lies there, in a vagary camp."

While speaking, the host's plastic skin shifted and moved. Callia shuddered.

"Vagary camp?"

"Dangerous, like no cloak. But no matter, because they're coming here."

An awareness tingled at the back of Callia's neck. "Why?"

The host grinned, displaying a surprising amount of teeth, sharpened to points. "Because I sold ye into their arena. If ye sword-wield, ye may yet survive."

Suddenly, she'd never been more grateful for the numerous duels with the bot.

~*~