So…that's fun.
Just as the sunlight is almost gone from the sky and the night bugs start to come out, Kaspar holds up the last of his rope ladder. "I think that does it. You want to sleep up top tonight?"
I sit up, rubbing my aching stomach. "Are you sure it's safe to climb that with the sun going down?"
"Probably safer than staying down here near the stream. If there's a predator in the area, they'll be watching the stream to pick off easy prey."
"Well aren't you the voice of positivity," I say, letting sarcasm drip through my voice. "All right then, how do we do this?"
Kaspar works the rope ladder around his bent elbow and his hand, making an organized loop of the entire thing. When he's done, he hangs the entire thing around his neck like a heavy scarf. "I'll go up, secure the rope and drop it down for you. If it'll make you feel better, I'll climb back down and wait here while you climb up."
That seems like a lot of extra effort, and he won't be able to help me if I fall anyhow. Something tells me that landing on him would kill me just as hard as landing on the ground would—he's not exactly a soft cushion of a man. "No, you can stay up top and give me a hand when I get close."
"You sure, Sunshine?"
"I'm sure." I give him a brave smile. "You be careful, too."
"I'd say I'm always careful, but then we'd both know I was lying." He gives me a cocky, heartbreaking little grin. "So I'll just say yes, I'll be careful." With a quick glance at his data pad, he pockets the thing and then approaches the tree, all swagger. I cling to Sterre, watching as he begins to climb with such ease that it immediately relaxes me. His hands never slip, not once, but I watch all the way up, until he hauls himself into the derelict ship and disappears from sight.
I take a deep breath, squinting into the twilight, but I can't see him in the shadows of the ship. "Everything okay up there?" I call out, my hand to my eyes (as if that will somehow make the darkness lessen).
"All good, Sunshine," he calls back, and in the next moment, something heavy and slack hits the ground.
That better not be the dead guy.
But Kaspar just calls out from above. "I think I made the rope too long. Guess we have extra. Come on up, Alice."
Rope. Good. I let out a breath, then give Sterre one last hug. "I guess this is goodbye for now, baby girl. You've been a good friend."
She licks my face and shoulder, and I squeeze her again, suddenly sad. Is this the last time I'll see my carinoux friend? It's not like I plan on moving up and down the rope ladder all day long. I didn't realize that I'd be leaving her behind, and it hurts. After losing so much being abducted from Earth, I hate losing anything. Ruth, Helen, Jade—and now Sterre.
I hug her one last time, then move toward the ladder. "I'm coming."
I put a hand on the rope. It's made of a belt-like material that feels sturdy, and I know it's going to hold. I watched Kaspar knot it all together and test each one. Sucking in as if that'll somehow give me courage, I lift one foot and put it in a loop, then haul myself up.
"You've got it, Alice," Kaspar calls down encouragingly.
Do I? I don't feel like I have anything, but hearing his voice makes me feel better. I pull myself up a few more loops, taking the time to find each handhold and each foot-loop carefully. It feels like I climb forever, but I refuse to look down to gauge how far I've gone. Something tells me that would be bad, so I just keep on climbing.
A strange, almost-tearing noise comes from below and I freeze on the rope, dangling in midair. "What the fuck was that?"
"What was what?" Kaspar calls out, tension in his voice. "Do I need to come down and see?"
The tearing noise happens again, and something appears in the corner of my eye. I swing on the rope, staring, as Sterre climbs the sheer bark of the tree. Her eight legs move in motion, her thick claws tearing into the bark like it's a scratching post, and she pauses halfway up and looks over at me, as if waiting.
She's my escort.
I laugh to myself, because I really am an idiot. Why else would a predator have eight legs and huge claws in a world with enormous trees? Climbing, of course. Sterre just hasn't climbed much lately because I've been on the ground and she's been guarding me. I watch as her slinky, muscled form moves up a few feet and then she pauses again, looking back at me and offering what must be the carinoux version of encouragement.