Page 3 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Stars
“So what happens now?” I shiver, even though the air is warm. I'm always scared when I go out on one of these, and I’m not afraid to show it. What we do is dangerous, and even though we are trained professionals, even though there is a team dedicated to keeping us safe, Jake’s experience shows just how dangerous it can be. A lot of times, the men—or masc folks— tend to be cocky.
They come in with swagger, talking about how knowledgeable they are, how easily they are going to find food, how masterful they are at creating fire. But women? We don’t bother with any of that. Those of us who are good, don’t doubt our skill set, but we don’t bother bragging. Mother Nature has the upper hand out here, and we are here only at her sufferance. It’s called Bare Survival, not Bare Walk in the Park. I imagine Jake is having to confront that fact… in front of cameras.
“You have a couple options. Normally, on Earth we would have someone to replace him, or we could have someone relatively quickly. Here though? We don’t have that. It was too expensive to bring back ups, and the next couple won’t be here for another three weeks. So, you could wait and we can do a triples episode, you can go it alone, or you can tap now and we won’t air anything. No one ever needs to know that you were here at all. We can reschedule —”
“No, I’m staying.” This won’t be the first time that I’ve been alone on the show, a my partner tapped in my second season, and I did one season of Solo. Is being alone on an unfamiliar planet ideal? Absolutely not, but I know that I can do it. I might be scared shitless, but I can do it.
“I can do this.”
“Are you sure?” Cara asks. I can tell she’s trying to control her voice, but she still sounds excited. She might be my friend, but she’s also my producer. She and I both know that this would make for a dramatic as fuck season opener.
“Yeah, might as well give the people a good show, right?”
“Yes, bitch!”
I smile at her reference, Cara and I watch a lot of drag shows together. And maybe, she’s right. Maybe to get through this I need to embody that bad bitch attitude that queens have.
It doesn’t matter that I’m alone, because when I finish I’ll get a larger bonus than usual. A bonus that should help me get at least the first of my younger sisters out. Brianna is old enough that they’re thinking about marrying her off soon, and if her last letter was any indication, she’s terrified. The church at least waits until a woman is twenty five before they force them to marry, they give them ten years to “pick” a husband before one is assigned to them. In theory, it really just means that all the guys have a solid ten years to “make their case.”
In the church, a woman’s virginity is sacred, but everything else is “fair game” when it comes to convincing, and there isn’t often much choice in the matter. Bri has done her best to be as homely as possible, as forgettable, as invisible, but it seems it’s stopped working. She’s been noticed, and with their time running short, apparently the men are intent on making up for lost time. With the prize money, I’ll be able to get her out of there, and into college. Being a survival expert isn’t a viable job for all of us, and after growing up in the church, we have very few skills that are marketable without college or vocational school.
I square my shoulders and look at the camera. “I’ve just found out that I’m alone. But I've also found out that I am one lucky bitch, because I was supposed to have a partner, which means I also have his personal item. It’s not my first time doing this alone, but I am still super grateful to have that resource. Let’s figure out what all I have.“
That’s not strictly how this works, but I’m not above pressing my advantage to try to make it work that way. I dare them to try to take whatever Jake brought away from me when I am about to make them gobs of money with this opener.
I sling the bags over my shoulders, making an X and plug my microphone, hidden in my necklace, into the battery pack. The first bag appears to be Jake’s, because I pull out a massive knife. I immediately recognize it as one that has been created in conjunction with a fellow cast mate. Mark is arguably the most experienced survivalist on the show, and when a major knife company offered to design a knife to his specs, he jumped. Most of us own them, now, because they really are custom tailored to what we need. It’s got a long, sinuous outer edge, with a saw on the back. There is a brush hook at the top for cutting and even an eye hole for milling arrows. This thing is absolutely loaded with features, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
One of the things they don’t tell you about the show, is that we do have a list of things we need to choose from, and while they won’t tell us what our partner is bringing, they will make sure that we don’t bring the same item. So, I was pretty sure that my partner would have a knife, because I always pick a knife as my first choice, and they told me to bring my second choice. That being said, I can almost always rely on my male counterpart to have chosen a knife, though that means I am reliant on them for how good it is. Does that mean I am essentially gaming the system? Confirming that we will have a knife available to us? Absolutely. But a lot of survival is about finding ways to get what you need.
I open the other bag, and see that my bug net is still inside. I debated on a fishing kit, but the fish on this planet seem to be quite small. I figured a net for catching a bunch at once, or keeping bugs off me would be super handy. At night, I can also stuff it with brush and wrap the net around me to make a pretty great blanket. On the ground next to the two bags are a pot and a fire starter.
In early seasons, we didn’t even get those, but the network found that when people ended up spending days trying to get fire or a vessel that they could boil water in, it just wasn’t very entertaining, watching people dehydrate or get sick from drinking unboiled water straight from the source.
With a deep breath, I put them into my bags and pull out my map. In a month, I will need to hike to a marked point on the map to meet my pickup. They don’t say this one the show, but you aren’t allowed to go farther than half way before the last day. The network likes the drama of that final day hike.
I can see a water source nearby, though I’m unsure if it is a river or a stream. Either way, it's my lifeline around here. To the southwest, I can see what appears to be a clearing a little ways away from the river, and it looks like a good first place to attempt at a campsite.
The sun is high in the sky now, and I figure I still have a two hour hike to my chosen campsite, so I set off toward the forest. The hyper pigmentation of the plants make everything look like I’m living in a real life acid trip. I’ve trained in virtual reality for a couple of months, but nothing has prepared me for the real thing. Even the browns of tree trunks are hyper pigmented, with reddish tones that make them look like they’ve been carved from the richest dark chocolate. Vibrant pink flowers hang from emerald vines off trees, swaying in the breeze.
With the recent discovery of wormhole technology, humans are spreading across the galaxy faster than we ever thought possible. There are far more habitable planets than we anticipated, and far less alien life than I might’ve expected. We’ve found a few other cultures, of course, but they are quite insular.
Which leaves us to do what we do best: expand like locusts. It’s probably not doing us any favors where the aliens are concerned, but I’m not a politician. The point is, if you have enough money, you can buy exclusive rights to an entire planet for a period of time, which is what the network has done with Solaris IV.
Though it is habitable for humans, it doesn’t contain any large deposits of valuable resources so the rumor is that they got it for a pretty good deal. Apparently, the only other people that wanted access to this planet specifically was a group of xenoarchaeologists, because while there aren’t many other aliens around now, it seems that there used to be a shit-ton. The universe is littered with their crumbling cities, their monuments, and their literal garbage. From my understanding, Solaris IV is no exception, and it’s actually one of the reasons that we are here in the first place.
People go wild for these alien relics, and I’ll be shocked if the network hasn’t specifically plunked me down near some. If there are any existing structures, I will, of course, make use of them, and I’m sure the network is hoping for as much footage as possible to support the xenoarchaeology craze. After all, our ratings have been tanking lately as people lose interest in our own dying planet in the face of so many unexplored environments. Other shows are already capitalizing on it, so it’s about time the network got onboard.
After two hours or so of hiking, I find the river from the map. It’s wide and rushing, and I’m not certain I’ll be able to cross it. My intended campsite was on the other side, so I’m going to have to think of another idea. I turn north along the bank, and follow it in hopes that I will find either a crossing or a suitable campsite. Ideally, I don’t want to be right next to the river, because I don’t fancy dealing with wildlife coming to drink or with a flood, but if I didn’t have to hike too far for water, that would be great as well.
Another hour of hiking goes by largely without incident, and I try to keep up a steady dialogue—or rather monologue—with the drone. Normally, I would have a partner to talk to, but obviously that’s not the case today and I don’t want to be boring.
“This river looks too wide for me to chance. I’m a strong swimmer, but I know how cold it gets here at night. Being cold and wet is a recipe for hypothermia, and with the way that water is moving, I could be swept under easily. If I continue along this bank, it’s possible I could find another campsite, or a better place to cross. I’m going to hike against the river’s flow, because it will likely get smaller. The closer I am to the source.”
At times, the brush near the river gets so thick I need to hack at it with my knife, and I can’t deny that the brush hook on it is handy. The sight that greets me when I crest the hill steals my breath. There is what I can only describe as a temple nestled into the valley below me. Made from a deep grey stone, I can see from this distance that it’s got large pillars and an open courtyard. The roof seems largely intact, and I grin at the camera.
“This is better than I could’ve expected. I’ll have to check out the interior of course, I don’t want to be crushed in my sleep, but I am never sad about a ready-made shelter. Let’s go check it out!”
I play it cool for the camera, but on the inside I want to jump and clap my hands. If I can get a fire going and some sterilized water in me, it’ll be a great first night. After the day I’ve had, I’m exhausted, and I can’t wait to lie down. The air has a higher argon content here, so it’s heavier than on Earth. So it’s like I’ve been swimming, rather than walking, through the air for hours.
In my excitement, I move too quickly down the hill. My foot catches on a rock, and it sends me flying. For the briefest moment, I feel weightless, but reality crashes back in as I slam into the ground. I roll, avoiding injury to my head or arms, but once I stop at the bottom of the hill, I hiss when I stretch my ankle. Pain shoots up my leg—it’s at least twisted and now everything is a bit more dire.
“Damn it. If I needed this shelter before, I really need it now. I doubt I’ll be able to walk on this ankle much farther and I’ll need fire tonight, at least. Temperatures will drop quickly here, with the extra distance from the sun, and I’ve spent too many nights naked in the wilderness to be willing to do it without a fire.”
I get up and hobble closer. When I approach the wall, I get goosebumps. Something doesn’t feel right. It feels like I am being watched, which is silly, because of course I am. But it’s different. This isn’t the feeling of the cameras or the drone operator. This isn’t from the other cameras likely taking different shots from vantages I can’t see.
This is about the distinct feeling you get when you are exposed and lacking the equipment you need to be an apex predator. This is the feeling you get when you’re prey.
I stand at the entrance to the temple-thing and peer inside. The entire complex is walled, and it has a single opening. If there is anything in there, there’s only one way in or out. It opens into a large courtyard, with pathways and overgrown greenery everywhere. On plinths at the intersections of the pathways stand statues. The statues, made of the same stone as the building, are a deep grey and tower over the space, vines climb up their bases and twine around their bodies, and a few have even been split or lost a limb as a result. From where I am, there is a straight shot down the center of the walk to the opening of the building. Whatever is making me feel creeped out is likely in there, and if I am staying here, I need to deal with it.
Vines have also grown up the wall, so I cut one off and I loop it around my arm. It will come in handy if I need to tie anything up, even though I don’t want to think too hard about that.
“There might be something inside,” I whisper to the camera. “Shelter like this is a prime location, and the local fauna have likely moved in long ago. If I’m lucky I will only have to scare out a few small animals, if I’m unlucky, there could be a pack of skree inside.”
Counting on the network to add an animation later, I describe the animals. “Only knee high to a human, those small animals can jump up to ten times their height. From what we’ve observed, they hunt primarily in large packs, attacking their prey from all sides, even jumping down from above until they are overwhelmed. They are known to devour their prey in a matter of seconds, so if they attack me, the crew won’t have time to get here. Luckily, they haven’t shown any interest in other humans who have visited the planet, and even acted afraid and ran when pressed.”
I sound so much more confident than I feel, but that is part and parcel of being a wilderness expert. Too often, it’s doing your best with the knowledge you have and faking it till you make it with the rest.
“If this is where they regularly live, I might be in trouble. They will have young, and I’d guess that they will fight instead of flee if that is the case. I’m going to try to sneak in to see what I find. Hopefully, it’s nothing.”
The garden is eerily quiet when I step inside. The statues are a silent honor guard as I pass through the gauntlet of their gazes. Even off their plinths, these beings looked larger than would be possible. Humans were the smallest space faring species that we’ve met, but even so, these had to be some kind of idol tribute as opposed to real life.
Each plinth has engravings at the bottom, though not in any language I can even begin to discern. I’ll take some good footage after I am settled for the xenoarcheologists. The statues, the alien statues, have thick, intimidating legs that remind me of a lion’s. Fierce talons jut out from the tips and curl around the edge of the plinth. The one in front of me has one toe raised, and it makes me think of when someone is being impatient and tapping their fingers.
I get the distinct impression that the statue is male—in fact, they all seem male. There isn’t a statue of a woman in sight, which makes me wonder what their society could have possibly been like.
Like plants and animals, we’ve found that sentient life in the universe tends to follow a pattern. I am not exactly team “grand designer” but it does seem like there are a set of designs that seem to have worked for evolution in multiple locations. What evolution did not seem to skimp on with these guys is meat. They are solid. I can’t tell if it’s all muscle or what, but the statue in front of me is at least twice as wide as I am, with fingers as thick as a tube of toothpaste. He isn’t wearing much, so that makes two of us, but he’s at least got a little skirt thing. His face is set in a hard line, while some of the others look almost hopeful. He has two curving horns that curl back from his forehead and what appear to be four miniature horns that extend from his jaw. His features are chiseled and I wonder if it is an exaggeration of the statue’s carving or if his people were really so angular.
With the set of his brow, his muscles, and the way he grasps the pommel of his sword, he should be fierce. Instead, I take in the detail of his skin, the care taken to eke out the lines next to his eyes, the beginnings of wrinkles that make me wonder if the real man was half as arresting. None of the other statues have made me stop this way, instead, they all blend together in a faceless horde. I couldn’t possibly care less about any of them, but this one statue makes me feel… safe.
Until from behind me, I hear the shuffle of something in the forest and I whip around. I scan what I can see of the forest behind me, but there’s nothing. Shaking my head, I flee into the temple.