Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

In that second, all is explained. Of course it’s a bloody human.

Humans are like vermin, spreading across the galaxy, infecting every planet they land on. We have been attempting to weed them out where we find them. Quite often a planet will only have one or two humans on it. If you can eradicate them before they begin to breed, and call others to a planet, you can often return it to an unspoiled state.

It is at this point that I remember I am holding a weapon. The scent of the wild ones made me feel as if I were as unencumbered as they are, but I come with baggage, and that baggage is useful.

I lift my weapon and train it on the human. I cannot see her entirely, but I can see the vague outline of her body. This is a mercy, both for the wild ones, and for her. When I pull the trigger, she will become a pile of ionized carbon in less than a second, never knowing what has happened to her.

But I have to be careful. I cannot risk hitting one of the wild ones. She seems to have ingratiated herself into a group of them, no doubt corrupting them in the process with her human customs and ways. I am filled with disgust and anger at the idea of our hallowed ancient ancestors being so tainted.

I can see a flash of red that is probably hair. Wild ones do not have hair of that hue; they are black or brown, sometimes blonde, but never red. That gives me a place to aim.

Grroooaww!

Before I can squeeze the trigger, a wild one bursts out of the undergrowth, its mouth wide open in a fearsome snarl, all teeth and saliva and rage. I am face to face with the origin of my species, and it is furious at me.

I cannot fire on such a revered creature, which means I have one option: run.

The wild one roars all the louder and gives chase. I have never run from an enemy in my life, and I do not enjoy the experience. I am feeling waves of hot shame, which make me all the more determined to eradicate that blasted human as soon as possible.

The undergrowth is thick and treacherous, requiring me to slide beneath fallen trees, and leap over others. Claws on my feet burst through my boots to grip the earth and trees as I spin through the air, the chase going vertical as the hallowed creature behind me does its very best to turn me into minced meat.

I can’t call for transport yet. If I do, and the wild one somehow gets caught in the beam, we will have defiled the planet and the ancestors. I have to lose this fearsome beast that has inexplicably chosen a human over me.

I leap over a tree and a ravine opens up beneath me. I grasp the far wall with the claws of my feet and hands alike, managing to arrest my descent in a screeching, heart-rending moment of pure instinct. There is a great depth below me, an emptiness that threatens to reach up and overwhelm me if I do not start climbing immediately.

Scrambling up the rocky face, I find myself on the other side of the abyss, looking back at the ancestor who pants and roars and snarls at me as if to say: and don’t come back!

This is my first encounter with one of the hallowed ones. This is a great honor, a milestone in any officer’s life. Contact is rare, and usually strictly regulated. I have read all the infamous accounts over the years from other captains. I have imagined what it would be like when I finally came face to face with a wild one. I thought there would be a spark of kinship, and an acknowledgement of genetic connection that spans the ages. Instead I have been chased off like an opportunistic scavenger. I am left without honor, and with a story I will tell nobody.

Instead of connecting with me, their honored descendant, these wild ones have decided to protect a human.

This is not good.

This is not good at all.

“One to transport,” I speak the order to my communicator. A second later, I am up on the bridge of my ship. The juxtaposition of locations only serves to make my recent encounter feel all the more shameful.

I have faced hundreds of enemies in battle. I have never once run from them. I am still panting, to my shame. Long space journeys have served to weaken my natural fitness.

The entire crew is looking at me askance. I was supposed to be on my wild path for at least thirty days. Instead, I have barely lasted thirty minutes. This may very well be the lowest point in my life.