It's Getting Hot: Red Planet Dragons of Tajss: Short Story

  It’s Getting Hot

  Red Planet Dragons of Tajss: Short Story

  Miranda Martin

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  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Red Hot Preview: A Baby For The Alien Prince

  Blurb

  Life on Tajss can be hard. There's very little water, it's hot as hell, human technology has been set back to the stone age, and some of the survivors just want to cause trouble for everyone else. Despite everything, there is hope for the future of two races. Adorable half-alien babies prove love can conquer all.

  This short story is part of the Red Planet Dragons of Tajss series and is not intended to be stand alone. It should be read after book five, Olivia's story (Dragon's Kiss), and is a quick look into life as a survivor for those who just can't get enough of the Red Planet.

  Copyright © 2017 Miranda Martin

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Morning

  Sunlight, in my eyes. Ugh.

  Rolling over to try and block it out doesn’t help.

  “Sarah,” Alicia whispers. “It’s late, wake up!”

  Others stir. Rolling onto my back, I stretch my arms over my head, touching the wall as I arch my back and work out the kinks.

  “I’m so sick of sleeping on the floor,” Alicia mutters, her voice soft, trying to not wake everyone else.

  Sitting up, I blink then wipe sleep from my eyes, rubbing them and yawning. Rising to my feet, I stretch again and my back gives a loud pop. Loud enough Alicia looks, her eyes widening. Grimacing, I wave it off.

  Life on Tajss. Yippee.

  Running my tongue over my teeth, they’re so gross. I hate mornings. Stiff, sore, and no hot shower to make it worth getting out of bed. Stepping around the still sleeping forms of my roommates, I make my way to the door with Alicia. She holds it open and once I’m through she quietly shuts it.

  “You know what I miss?” Alicia asks, still whispering.

  The dorm walls are decayed and thin now, and voices carry.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Coffee,” she sighs.

  “Oh my god yes,” I agree, hanging my head. “Dear, sweet coffee.”

  “Piping hot with just a splash of cream, mmmm,” she says, closing her eyes as we walk side by side, pursing and smacking her lips.

  “Black for me.”

  “Gross.”

  The door to the stairwell sticks, again, when Alicia tries to pull it open. I grab hold of it with her and add my weight into pulling. It slides at last but gives off a horrible screech that I’m sure woke up half the girls still trying to sleep.

  “Damn,” I exhale. “I’m too tired for this.”

  “For sure,” she agrees.

  The stairwell is dark, the only light coming from the now open door. Dust motes dance in the rectangle beam, spinning in midair. Alicia takes the lead, heading down three flights of stairs that would be more than wide enough for two Zmaj to walk side by side.

  If the building wasn’t falling apart.

  If god only knows what creature or explosion hadn’t destroyed parts of it.

  Now it’s single file and watch your step. The third story flight isn’t bad, but the second one is the worst. At about the halfway point, many of the stairs are missing. Reaching the landing, Alicia stops and I bump into her shadowy figure.

  “I hate this section,” she says.

  “Me too.”

  She takes a deep breath then moves. Pressing myself to the wall just as she has, I take each step carefully. There’s just enough light to make out shapes. When we moved in here it wasn’t this bad, we still had flashlights, but now all the batteries are dead and we have no way to charge them.

  Moving slow, I test each step with my foot. The broken part has been crumbling further until I’m sure one day it’ll be impassable. I test, step, then test again with each forward progress.

  My foot pushes down to find nothing.

  My stomach clenches tight with swirling vertigo.

  Pulling my foot towards the wall, I find safe footing and make my way past the hole. On the other side I let my breath out in a fast rush, realizing that holding my breath was making me dizzy.

  “I hate that part,” I mutter.

  “Me too,” Alicia says.

  Reaching the bottom, it’s so dark I can barely make out my hand in front of my face. Something slaps on metal, then a door creaks as Alicia finds it and pushes it open.

  Blinding, stabbing light.

  Squinting my eyes tight, I wait for the pain to pass before slowly opening them and stepping out after her. Once on the street, the heat presses down like a suffocating blanket. Even this early in the morning it must be almost a hundred degrees and that’s with the dome working. If we were outside the dome it’d be at least ten to twenty degrees hotter. The double suns of Tajss have only just begun their daily effort to burn away the surface of the planet. Assholes.

  Alicia and I make out way towards the baths, joining the trickle of other survivors heading in the same direction. Walking across the square and past the non-functioning fountain with the big statue, I can’t help but imagine how nice it would be if it was filled with water. It looks like it once was. That would have been an impressive display of wealth for this city. Zmaj don’t need a lot of water, but it’s the rarest resource. On Tajss, water is like gold was on the Earth we left behind.

  Crinkling my nose I fight down bile rising in my throat. Ugh, we’re getting close to the baths. Another joy of no water. It reeks of offal. Alicia ties a cloth over the lower half of her face. Wish I’d thought of that.

  “Does it help?” I ask.

  “No,” she shakes her head, shrugging.

  So much for that idea. Nothing could block out the smell of hundreds of humans seeing to their daily needs in a relatively small space with barely a trickle of water. Recipe for disaster.

  Or at least a really unpleasant odor.

  At least someone, Rosalind probably, had the foresight to designate a public bath far from where we’re making our homes.

  Inside the square building with open doors I work fast, quickly washing just the basics. Pits, face, wet my hair, then go. Once this was probably beautiful. Now it’s gross and awful. The center of the space is dominated by a recessed pool that was probably full of fresh water when the city was alive. Now, there are standing pools of stagnant water in the bottom. At the far end a pipe juts out and a small stream of water flows, dropping to the tile floor then running down to a drain.

  After washing, I go to the bathroom area to relieve myself. This is the source of the worst of the smell. Insufficient running liquid means the waste is piling up. Calista figured out some enzymes or something that are helping break down the solids so stuff is running down the drains to wherever it goes but not fast enough.

  Man we need running water.

  Or something.

  Rushing out of the baths, I huff fresh air the first chance I get, glad that part of my day is over. Alicia has left already to do her job for the day. She’s a sweet girl. I like her but I can’t say I know much about her. Or any of the girls I room with. I can’t talk to anyone about what my real job is which prevents me from being too close to anyone. You can’t hide inconvenient truths from close friends for long.

  Ah well. It’s worth it. I love what I do. One day they’ll all know and then they can
appreciate it.

  Or not.

  Either way, this is my life now.

  Sweat is running into my eyes already. Wiping it away, I move faster. It’s early enough there aren’t very many people at the dining hall. Makeshift tables sit around the open area with a few people sitting and chewing. I make my way towards the back window where rations are handed out. Inga and Mei are there.

  “I”m so tired of this,” Inga says, looking down at the two pieces of dried meat and rations pack on her plate.

  “Yeah,” Mei replies, shrugging.

  Inga sighs as she carries her plate towards a table and Mei follows. Her beautiful, platinum blond hair flows like silk down her back. I don’t know how she stands to keep it long, but she does. A stab of jealousy bites me, every girl on the planet wishes she were like Mei, so effortlessly beautiful. She doesn’t seem to realize it, Mei’s not only gorgeous, she’s the nicest of all of us. She’s so damn sweet you can’t not like her.

  “Eggs,” Inga says. “Wouldn’t it be great to have some eggs?”

  “We ate all those,” Mei replies as they sit down together at a table.

  Bert slides a plate up onto the serving counter where I stand, watching.

  “Morning Bert,” I say.

  “Morning Sarah.”

  Bert looks haggard, more than usual. His eyes are sunken and dull.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  He looks up, confusion obvious on his face. “Huh?”

  “Are you okay?”

  He looks around with quick, darting glances, then motions for me to come around behind the counter.

  No one’s paying attention to me, which is normal, so I go over to the door leading through to the supply area. Bert’s waiting when I come through and leads me deeper without a word. We walk down a hallway then he opens a door and motions inside.

  “You have to let Rosalind know,” he whispers.

  Bert is one of the few people who know what my actual job is.

  “Know what Bert?”

  “Some of the ration packs cracked open, they’re spoiled.”

  “Shit!”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “How did it happen?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, desperation raising his voice a few pitches.

  Closing my eyes, I count to five then open them and smile. No matter what I think or feel about the situation, I have to exude confidence. If nothing else, Rosalind has taught me that.

  “Well, we’ll just have to rely on the hunters more,” I reassure him.

  “Yeah, well they’re not bringing in enough,” he says. “We lost Astarot and Lana and they were the best.”

  Damn it, you think I don’t know that? No, don’t let him see you sweat, I tell myself. “Right, well, we’ll handle it. Calista and Jolie are close to a breakthrough. I’ll talk with Rosalind and we’ll get something going with the hunters, too.”

  “Okay,” he says half-heartedly.

  Reaching over, I grip his forearm. He looks up and meets my eyes for the first time.

  “Bert?” I ask, staring intently into his eyes.

  “Yeah?”

  “It will be okay,” I say, voice firm, tightening my grip.

  He nods, still despondent at first, then straightens his back. “Yeah, okay, good,” he says.

  I smile then leave. As I pass back through the front, I grab my tray. Two pieces of dried meat and a ration pack filled with who knows what. The label is gone and so is the taste, I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t matter. It’s food.

  Looking around the dining hall I pick a seat. I try to never sit in the same one twice. Everyone else has their groups they’ve fallen into, their friends or acquaintances they spend most of their time with. Unlike them, I move from table to table, sliding in and out of their small groups.

  Listening. Learning. Observing.

  “Mind if I sit here?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Mei says, motioning that I should take the seat next to her.

  “Thanks,” I say, sliding in.

  “I’m just saying,” Inga says, continuing the conversation they were having before I arrived.

  “I know but how do you know? I’m not in a hurry is all I’m saying,” Mei replies.

  “Hurry for what?” I ask.

  “Babies,” Inga says.

  “Oh,” I say.

  It’s not an uncommon topic of conversation among the girls. It started when Calista announced her pregnancy, followed by Jolie. It wasn’t much then, just the occasional comment both positive and negative depending on the group and person. Once the babies were born though, that fueled the flames.

  “What about you?” Mei turns to me and asks.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, babies. Yes? No? Maybe? Human, Zmaj?” Inga asks, her sweet face earnest.

  “Is it true that the Zmaj have… two?” Mei adds.

  “Uhm, I wouldn’t know,” I answer Mei, hoping to dodge Inga’s question.

  “No being left hanging because he finished before you!” Mei exclaims and we all join her laughter.

  “Oh, that’s the worst!” Inga agrees.

  Grabbing the last piece of meat off my tray, I pop it in my mouth, preparing to leave. There’s nothing new here for me to learn. The conversation is the same one that’s been happening among the girls for months now.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” Mei says, as I pick up my tray and stand.

  “Oh?” I ask.

  “No, no, you don’t get off that easy,” she says.

  “Yeah, fess up Sarah, which is it?” Inga jumps back into the interrogation with both feet.

  Man I hate being put on the spot. “Uh,” I say, desperate for a way out.

  “Come on,” Inga says.

  Mei reaches up, placing her hand on my arm.

  “You can tell us, it’s just us girls,” she says, her voice soft and reassuring.

  “Someday, sure,” I say. “Just, right now… no.”

  How could I? I know things they don’t know. I know the truth and I couldn’t bring a baby into this world. Not right now. There is too much to do and the world is too dangerous. But I want to. So, so much.

  “What are you waiting for?” Inga asks.

  My lower lip quivers but I can’t fold. Not now. This is why Rosalind picked me. Inhaling deeply, I force my mouth into a smile and meet Inga’s inquiring gaze.

  “The right guy, of course,” I say, broadening my smile. “I’m not one of ‘those’ girls.”

  They both laugh their agreement.

  “Makes sense,” Mei says. “I can’t say I don’t feel the same.”

  “Speak it sister,” Inga says. “But aren’t they just so damn cute?”

  “Oh my god, did you hear what Illadon did yesterday?” Mei asks, letting go of my arm.

  As their attention turns to discussing Illadon’s latest adventures, the second most popular topic of polite conversation, I take the chance to slip away.

  Scanning the dining hall as I move to put my tray away, something seems off, a tickle at the edge of my thoughts. Something I can’t put my finger on. What is it? A tingle runs across my skin, nerves coming to life as I try to figure out what’s bothering me.

  Gershom.

  Not a single member of his ‘camp’ is in the dining hall. Enid and Jacob at least should be here. They’re supposed to help Bert with the meals. Something is definitely off.

  What’s he doing now? Or cleverly not doing, which is more his style. Never his fault. Always an excuse, a reason it was somebody else and not him.

  Setting my tray down on the stack, I look through the window into the prep room. Bert is organizing some of the makeshift dishes. Well we call them dishes, trays, but that’s being generous. They’re actually pieces of metal salvaged from either the wreckage of our ship or tearing apart parts of the city itself. Some of the more handy survivors have taken to crafting, which is great. Pounding out scrap into shapes, forming them into makeshift trays, bow
ls, cups, basic things we need. Of course they’re all rough and a lot of them have pretty sharp edges.

  Still, it’s better than nothing.

  What tools we have, have quit working. They all require power. The little energy the city does have goes to keeping the dome operating since that keeps out the wandering monsters and also cuts down on the heat from the suns.

  Everyone agrees the dome is top priority. Even Gershom doesn’t argue.

  “Bert,” I stage whisper, catching his attention.

  “What?” he asks, too loudly.

  Glaring my displeasure, he shrugs and comes closer so we can talk without being overheard.

  “What?” he asks again, keeping his voice low this time.

  “Where are Enid and Jacob?”

  “How am I supposed to know?”

  “You’re their boss, that’s how,” I snap back. “You know why I have to know.”

  His frown deepens, but he doesn’t express whatever thoughts are going on behind his eyes. “Sure.”

  “How often do they do this?”

  “How often does the sun rise?” he responds. “They’re about as reliable as it rains here on Tajss.”

  “Is it Gershom?”

  “Who else could it be? That guys a royal tool,” he says. “He’s like a damn Ferengi, always looking for the bottom line.”

  “A what?”

  “Seriously?” He arches an eyebrow.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Star Trek,” he says. “Come on!”

  “Hey, I’m a Star Wars girl,” I respond. “Never watch that filthy knock off stuff.”

  “Well first off, Star Trek came first, thank you very much. Second, oh never mind,” he says shaking his head. “It’s obvious by the look on your face you’re hopeless.”

  “Sure, sure, way to promote geek snobbery,” I grin.

  “Think Trade Federation,” he sighs.

  “Ah, so you do have some taste,” I smile bigger, enjoying teasing Bert.

  “Sure, sure,” he says. “I’m a man of broad and exotic tastes.”