Chapter Five: Resolution — Part 2

Jun put on the gloves and went back to work. She reached down, tugging gently, relaxing, and tugging again. It took more than she expected to elicit a response. She could feel the creature within the tract, resisting her, causing Bamboo pain to try to keep the inevitable from happening. The creature stretched out as Bamboo’s autonomous nervous system took over. The creature, combined with Jun’s general aversion to men, was taking all the fun out of the moment. It couldn’t move while Bamboo was erect, and as Jun had suggested, wasn’t designed to deal with the surge of fluids resultant in ejaculation. Bamboo slept through all of it.

By the the time Bamboo’s breathing calmed, the creature’s hairy posterior exposed itself, and Jun worked it loose with the pliers. The thing’s face was ugly and distorted, as if it were in constant rage. Its two jaws, each pronged out with fangs that seemed oversized for its head, were covered in what looked like a mix of phlegm and blood. Each stained spike protruded from under its lipless, jagged mouth. Hairs around its face had once been buried in Bamboo’s flesh, and were covered in blood as well. Blind and unintelligent, it bit repeatedly at the pliers, and Jun carried the small creature to the edge of the hot spring. Ignoring the heat of the day and the searing steam coming off the water, she dipped the parasite into the boiling spring. It let out an audible hiss, convulsed violently for several seconds, then went limp. Jun held it until it began to disintegrate, its eggs bursting one by one as they spilled into the water from its ruptured gut. Only when she was absolutely certain that the parasite and its eggs were no longer a threat to her or any other living thing did she pull her hand away from the intense heat.

“I can’t believe people do this kind of thing for a living.” Jun said to Glyph while walking back to the pyramid.

“Nor can I.” Glyph said, trying to be agreeable.

Jun smiled, because some secret part of her had enjoyed saving Bamboo’s life, and the rest of her had enjoyed feeling the response of his body, however half-heartedly, to her touch. In her duty as a soldier, she had seen and done much killing. She had almost forgotten her innate hume ability to heal. Jun looked up from the pond, standing tall, a glint of something catching her eyes. Riders bore down on them from a distance, only minutes away. Glyph, apparently, hadn’t been watching for them.

“You were too focused. You didn’t give me warning.”

“They move too fast.” Glyph complained, his excuse shallow.

“They’ll either be traders or bandits. So get ready for trouble.” Jun put her hand gently on her sword. “You able to fight?”

Glyph bobbed, “My weapons systems are fully repaired.”

Glyph’s antennas slid into its surface, replaced by symmetrical spines and thin tubes. The sphere put itself over Jun’s head. Jun kept her mind on the riders, who were still several minutes away.

“Just don’t do anything until I tell you to. We may be able to talk our way out of this one.” Jun took a deep breath, exhaled, and kept her eyes on the lead rider.

Realizing that Jun was armed and that she had spotted them, the riders slowed their approach, spread, out, and then drove in for the attack. Under orders from Chen, and out of preservation for herself, Jun readied herself for killing.

* * *

Much to his surprise and temporary embarrassment, Bamboo woke up wanting sex. Having had no urge for sex in countless weeks, this brought certain other issues to his direct conscious thought. He last remembered himself being injured and naked, and had a vague memory of being under the careful, rather professional touch of a woman who had brought him what he could only consider the most painful orgasm he had ever experienced. He reached to cover his groin, only to feel the tough material of his bodysuit, cleaned of the horrific smelling gore of the biodroid, fully repaired and returned to him. His suit covered all the skin from his throat to his toes in a thermal barrier that would keep him from freezing or boiling to death, even under the stresses put to him in space. Bamboo had to consider that Jun would not have the luxury of such protection. As he thought of Jun, Bamboo was happy to find himself gaining a slow, determined erection. His suit would cover such natural occurrences. Something had been stuffed under his legs to keep his knees bent, and his head was in the shade of something or somebody. On both sides of him, the world seemed to be moving slowly past. Some two-dozen gourds of water swayed with the motion, making gurgling sounds that informed him of their presence.

“Glyph, detail my environment.” Bamboo said.

“Jun Metalsmith, Minister of War and Political Messenger for Lord Imus Chen, a man who is Self Elected Leader of the Zon Imperial Order, has you in her care. She is currently leading us out of the Gash. You have been unconscious for several days. The terrain is dreadful and flat. It is currently one hundred fifteen degrees at zero percent humidity. I am levitating you and our water supply, and am guiding us from hot spring to hot spring towards a city known to Jun as New Amazonia.”

“Why are we traveling by foot?” Bamboo wondered.

“Where’s Jun?” Bamboo asked.

“At your feet.” Jun said, her voice hoarse.

Bamboo listened to her drink from a water gourd.

“Is my suit repaired?” Bamboo asked, not sitting up for fear of tipping the cot.

Glyph let out a disgruntled click. “The suit is repaired and charged, but we can’t activate it within the Gash. The Bugs, the local residents, have a disruptor field in place — easy to maintain in such a hostile environment — designed to keep unauthorized Snapping to a minimum. The field ends abruptly at the end of their national boundary, which by coincidence, is marked clearly as the edge of the Gash. They will not, of course, drop such a cumbersome field for just one traveler.”

“I think I can walk now, and take the strain off of you and Jun.” Bamboo said.

“Good.” Glyph answered. “I’m low on power as it is.”

When he felt the cot come to a stop, Bamboo sat up, reached out carefully toward Jun, who shrugged his groping hand off instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

Bamboo grumbled an insult under his breath. “I can’t see.” He reminded her.

“My apologies. I hadn’t considered.” Jun took Bamboo’s right hand and guided it to her shoulder.

That shoulder felt quite hume, but hardened from a life of fighting. The ridges of a fresh scar tingled under his sensitive fingertips. Bamboo followed along behind her, his toes testing the soft, even ground. Pretty soon he got used to both the steady incline and the hot, yielding sand that he walked on. It took considerably more time to get used to the feeling of callous, scarred flesh under his fingers. Jun drank constantly, replaced her gourd twice, and Bamboo matched her for thirst, despite the fact that his suit captured and processed a good ninety percent of the water he sweated out of his pores. The water he drank was softened with salt and minerals, and could preserve him for weeks. Jun’s water, he knew, might well leach her of precious minerals.

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