Starborne

I considered myself relatively determined, so by the time I gave up I had been hanging for over an hour. It began to get dark, and no amount of swinging, jostling, or attempting to boost myself up with my core muscles had done a bit of good in freeing my foot from the vine it was tangled in. Small crunch motions to lift myself into a vaguely upright position were the only thing that had kept me from blacking out, but still blood rushed to my head every time I had to relax.

My knife fell out of my boot when I was flipped upside down, and I could see my pack sitting pointlessly on the ground ten feet below. I grumpily deduced that I had stepped into some kind of trap; from what I could tell, the 'vine' I currently dangled from was in fact a tightly woven cord that had tightened around my ankle and hauled me into the air.

I was helpless, and fuming. With no idea who set the trap, I had no plan to wait around and see who came to collect their prey. I didn't remember any form of sentient beings on this planet other than the Cynabarrians with trap-making capabilities, but mercenaries and bounty hunters were known to sometimes stake out more rural planets to hide and wait to see who came along. I cursed myself for assuming I wasn't followed, and seethed that I would be caught here, without my ship, by the very mercenaries who orchestrated my crash in the first place.

I removed my blaster from its holster and tucked it into the hip of my suit. If someone came to collect me, my best chance was to pretend to be unarmed, and go out shooting as soon as I was let down. Then I would run away and...get lost in the jungle? Pursuers would cut off any route to the village, and I doubted I would be able to make it back to my ship. Maybe I could climb a tree and lose them, wait out the ambush until they got bored.

"With your food and water sitting nicely on the ground, completely out of reach. Real smart, Holly. You couldn't outlast anyone in this state." I derisively responded to my own thoughts, left to argue mindlessly at the air.

It was true, I had been sweating profusely for hours, and was already severely light headed from hanging for so long. I wouldn't give up, but escaping from capture was seeming less and less possible the more I waited around. Calling for help wasn't really an option, as I didn't want to draw attention to my vulnerable position. With my luck I was exactly the kind of tasty treat that some Cynabarrian animal was craving right at this moment.

Suddenly I heard the murmur of voices from the ground. I froze, trying to decipher who it may be, but unable to make out any words.

"Please be nice, please be nice," I muttered to myself quietly, trying to stay calm and pay attention to the upcoming voices.

I heard a shout, and the sound of quick footsteps rushing towards me. Someone laughed, but it didn't seem malicious, and I turned my head to try and see who appeared through the vines. There were four men and one woman, vaguely human in appearance with sun bronzed complexions. I couldn't really tell from my vantage point, but the woman alone seemed upwards of six feet tall, and they were all very muscular. I breathed a sigh of relief at their appearance; they were Cynabarrians, not mercenaries.

The woman called up to me with unfamiliar words, and I tried to rack my muddled brain for the phrases I had attempted to learn earlier.

"Speak Terran? Terran?" I called down, hoping for some kind of recognition.

"I speak Terran," a deep male voice called up to me. "Who are you, and what are you doing up there?"

I rolled my eyes, and gestured to the rope at my ankle.

"Oh, you know, just hanging out!" I was grateful for any assistance, but I couldn't help but snap at the question. A deep chuckle emanated from one of the men, and I surprised myself by reacting with a noticeable shiver.

"Good point, we'll get you down now." The same voice responded, and before I could question how they intended to accomplish such a thing, the rope loosened and I found myself plummeting to the ground.

There was no time to scream, and then I was caught by a pair of strong arms against a hard, muscled chest. I registered four pairs of concerned eyes before being dumped somewhat curtly onto the ground. I yelped at the harsh contact and the woman issued a rebuke to the man who dropped me. He responded back in Cynabarrian, before looking down at me. The man spoke matter-of-factly, and I recognized his voice as the one who had called up to me.

"You are no longer hanging. Tell us who you are and why you are here." While the others looked at me in concern, he seemed wary. Dark gray eyes appraised me clinically, with a detached interest.

A testament to the dehydration and confusion brought on by my predicament, I felt my face warm and a blush spread across my chest at his direct gaze. I quickly shook off my reaction, chalking it up to the extensive amount of blood that had been pooling in my head.

"I'm a Terran Pilot, here to deliver a message to the human base in the Capital. My ship crashed a few miles back, I was trying to make it to the village before I was caught in this rope trap." I did my best to sound respectful, trying to remember the words of greeting I had learned earlier.

"I place myself in your hands, and thank you for your act of kindness." The man still seemed wary, and didn't take his eyes off me while clearing his throat. Translating to the others, he gestured to me and then up to the rope. The woman responded firmly, and one of the other men nodded in agreement. My head cleared a bit as I re-adjusted to gravity, and I found myself scrutinizing the gray-eyed Cynabarrian. He was very tall, at least six foot seven, which easily dwarfed my five foot six frame. He had skin tanned by the suns of the tropical planet, and light brown hair that glinted with bronze. He glanced down at me and I saw confusion warring with distrust in his expression, unhappy with whatever decision the group came to.

"You will come with us then." He remarked flippantly, his voice devoid of the conflict I saw in his face, and turned to walk away.

The woman reached out her hand to help me up, but I remembered the Cynabarrian customs concerning touch, and gestured that I did not need assistance. I smiled at her to convey that I understood the offer, and it dawned on me why the man had so quickly deposited me in the mud after my fall.

Well, I thought, staring at his retreating figure. I may have bought the excuse for one of the four people looking at me with concern, but the grey-eyed man seemed like he would pick me up just for the chance to once again drop me on the ground.

I slowly stood up on trembling legs, willing myself to find a show of strength somewhere within my bruised and exhausted body. Unfortunately, the effects of the crash coupled with my dehydration and hours of prolonged dangling, were taking hold. I straightened my back and took a step towards my pack, then promptly blacked out.