Planet Pandema

Sam gasped for air as she slowly drowned in her own sweat.

The alien landscape known as Pandema had proven its vicious apathy. It was becoming clear why 95% of the continental wildlife analyzed by the Betelgeuse had been underground, as the sweltering heat and gusting winds made the surface inhospitable. Sam's feet buried deep into the sand with each step, finding its way into her boots. She followed the solid red rock formations that molded and contained the vast desert land, but as far as she could see, there were no ways to scale them. The world was a wavy mirage of red, blue and yellow, a technicolor labyrinth. Sam cursed it as she trudged along.

Hours passed, and the morning escalated to a harsh afternoon. The traveler had lost most of her equipment, including her knife and water canister from the fox alien. That may prove to be a fatal misfortune, but the pod door was proving indispensable. Lifted over her head, it blocked the sun while she marched and operated as a sled while descending the dunes. However, despite the cover, any exposed skin was burnt into a crispy red glow. Her clothes were a poor choice for the desert, with heavy black trousers and a tank top that exposed her arms. Her proclivity for military hand-me-downs was proving hazardous. It was ironic. To yearn for the sun's warmth for years, only to be cooked under its gaze.

Once she reached the next vantage point, Sam observed the surrounding area. A faint hint of smoke caught her attention during her first observation of the landscape. Settlements were likely wherever solid ground and vegetation lay, which meant a better chance at water. If there was any sort of life still on this godforsaken planet, it would be that smoke stack.

Sam chased it like the North Star, her movements pushing more enthusiasm. Sam's mind had the luxury to ponder. Were they humans? Were they the miners who built the cart system? Would she be able to speak the language right? Why were there so many earthquakes in this region?

That last question quickly gained significance. In the vast sea of sand, nothing felt as unsafe as the ground Sam was standing on now. It was shifting and vibrating, rising and falling like water. Was there a mineral composition she wasn't aware of? Was she being followed?

Sam took a breather at the top of a dune, which was more like the top of a mountain. It was progress though. There were splashes of green on the other side of the canyon, an oasis. Not only that, but a building and what looked like a stairway. Civilization

"I'm saved. I did it." She planted her butt on the dune. Her throat felt like a leather purse. "No. I'm so close. So close to water." Her exhaustion turned into rage. "Stupid sun," she gritted. "You're trying to get me killed!"

She slid all the way to the bottom. The mountain ridge into the valley was smooth. It felt like a mountain ski resort in a strange way, a clean, powdery white surface that reduced friction during her downward ride. Toward the end, it thinned with the red ridges growing taller, but when she reached the final third, her perspective shifted as the narrow pass opened to a long ocean of sand, stretching from her left to her right. She fell from the slope of a mountain to the bottom of a seabed.

The small dock on the other side of the canyon was about twenty minutes of walking if the ground was good. Sam could feel her energy return for one last adrenaline pump when the sand began to rise. Initially, it seemed like a figment of her imagination, but something organic was underneath her. She slipped and slid down the avalanche before a tube sprouted from the depths. Sam blinked. "A worm?"

The alien had a frog's face and a raptor's jaws, long and meaty with bright red flesh, and it had missed its mark with Sam rolling down its neck and back. The creature was the size of a football field, maybe two. In fact, it just kept going. This was, in fact, larger than any animal Sam had ever heard of, let alone seen. There were multiple of them, a few dozen shooting out from the sands below as if they were mythical sea serpents. They dove back into the sand and were gone by the time Sam felt stable land. The dune sea was quiet, serene.

Sam's screams could be heard for miles. The girl in the snake pit ran for the ridges as fast as possible, hoping the solid stone would stave off the gargantuan creatures. However, the distance was still long, and the aliens needed to breach. The sands shifted again.

Sam's body moved on its own. As soon as she realized she was on the worm's head, she dropped the shield and rushed back up the length of its body, running at full speed to stay in the same place. Eventually, the worm ended, and its feathery tail launched Sam skyward, but not before she managed to yank a tuft out. She was now falling but at a more manageable speed.

Her stupor broke as she caught a glimpse of two plumes of smoke over the hill. "Help! Help me!" She cried.

The image could not be clearer. Boats. Technology. The dunes had people, as surprising as that was, and they were approaching quickly. Sam could tell they had their sights on her, and she squirmed mid-air to keep it that way.

"Over here!" She yelled. "My name is Sam! Please help! I can't hold much-!"

Her sentence was cut short by a ball of lead the size of a bowling ball whizzed over her head, ripping through the brilliant white feathers. Sam tumbled down the dunes as she heard more shots landing near her, followed by the zoom of fan blades. The assailants passed her with eyes on the prize. She could not hear them well, but they shouted over their machinery.

"Don't shoot with that!" The voice was gruff and threatening. "Use the rifles on small worms!"

Sam staggered as she regained her footing, but a second eruption caught her flying again. This time the worms were a little more accurate. The red beast gobbled Sam whole and was about to make its final gulp, but she managed to grab its uvula, or at least the uvula-esque organ. Sam walloped it for all she had. She was not interested in what was inside the monster's stomach, and luckily, the sandworm's sand diet didn't need exploring as it vomited all of its content down the valley and Sam with it.

Her body slammed into a dune, bouncing harder than last time. The first dislocated her shoulder, while the second twisted her ankle. She tumbled to the bottom of the slope and lay still for a good minute, writhing in pain. The beating sun, the rough sand, hunters, and deadly monsters. Everything in her body yelled discomfort and pain. But one thing kept her going. One tiny little feeling.

Fear, because she swore the vomiting sandworm told the others that her body was delicious, and it was first come, first serve. Whatever pain she felt had numbed away with the last vestiges of her adrenaline as she used her superhuman strength to propel herself in a beeline right for the stairway. She ran and ran and prayed and prayed. Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Her body kept moving. Again, I don't want to die. Sweat went into her eyes, and she went blind but kept going. A few more steps.

Sam was knocked forward, a thin stream of blood shooting from her collarbone. It felt like someone had jabbed her from behind, but she knew that was it. She felt death creeping forth but didn't know where. But then the sand shifted below her, and it was certain.

The bullet stopped her in her tracks, which, in ever-twisting fortune, saved the girl as the worm overshot, and she was launched in the air by its snout. Sam spun in the air, her body thrown like a ragdoll over what looked like a dozen mouths underneath her, a family of red worms looking for a treat. She dreaded what was about to happen and closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable crunch, no strength remaining in her. Mom, she thought. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough.

A shadow fell over her face, and as if by instinct, her arms and legs cradled around a long, meaty appendage much larger than her body. Her descent stopped. She was fighting gravity, propelled by a glider with two small combustion engines keeping it afloat. The pilot heaved to keep it up.

"You're too heavy!" The voice was young and childlike, its words auto-translating in Sam's head. It pulled back, and the glider pushed itself to gain lift over the rising, snapping jaws of the worms. However, the craft stayed true and kept altitude, zipping rapidly over the boats preparing to turn around for their prize. They shot at the plane and swore as it overtook them.

It may have been the wind, but Sam felt cold. This chunk of flesh keeping her alive was soft and curled to meet her, desperate for her to hold on. She wished she had the strength to thank it, but it was too late. Consciousness faded away.