The bleeding stump it had ripped loose from under my makeshift trap started to rise, and I realized the thing wanted to wrap me in as many legs as possible. Its plan was to immobilize me while the big pincers in front went to work. I didn’t know if they were venomous or not, but it seemed likely.
Not today, bug. Not today.
Now that the monster was close to me, I stomped on the stump-end with one foot and secured it to the ground. With its face smashed-in, the thing was having a difficult time targeting me for a bite. One punch later, and the joint connecting a big pincer to the body loosened and leaked blood the same color as the yellow stones around it. I grabbed the large pincer, slapped the other one away, and tore it loose from the creature’s carapace.
The big pincer was roughly as wide around as a vibroblade handle, so I tested its durability by driving it through the bug’s “chin” and out the top of its head. It kept fighting, so I twisted my body hard to throw it off. The monster landed in the water and squirmed, its mass of hooked legs grasping the air.
A lot of bugs I’d seen in the field had a single, compact a brain in their heads. Some, however, had brains that were spread-out throughout their whole body. If a bug only needed to run on instinct, then half—or less—of a brain would be enough. This looked like one of those creatures. I figured I’d have to take it apart.
I stalked to the edge of the water, waited for the thing to right itself, then jumped onto its back. I used my left hand to hold the the end with the big pincer under the surface while I clawed at the spot just behind its little eyes. It thrashed under me in an attempt to free itself, but it didn’t seem to have the ability to bend backward more than a few degrees.
A few seconds later, I found what I was looking for: a chink in the armor. I hooked my fingers between its chitinous plates, found squishy flesh, and pulled hard. The bug unzipped in a shower of red blood and soft flesh. I placed my foot on the back of its head and continued to pull the creature until the entire thing opened and its guts spilled into the stream.
It stopped moving and, after inspecting the long strip of armor in my right hand, I understood why. Its brain was one of the distributed kind, spread out like a roadmap along its armored exterior. It made sense. The brain would be protected by the insectoid’s tough armor, as far away from its victims as it could get.
Then I noticed a delightful smell, or more appropriately, my stomach noticed it by growling like some kind of caged animal. I looked around as I searched for where the aroma was coming from. I couldn’t locate the source until I peered down at the dripping bug-armor in my hand and gave it a sniff. That was it. It smelled like steak marinated in raspberries and honey. My stomach made a roar that would have sent any planet’s deadliest predator packing.
I checked once more to make sure the bug wasn’t just pretending to be dead. I poked a juicy-looking spot with my finger, smelled the thin, red fluid, and touched it to my tongue. I waited several seconds to see if there was a burning, acrid, or bitter sensation, common with most poisons. There wasn’t, so I swallowed.
If it was poisonous, there didn’t seem to be enough toxin in it to kill me, but the human body could be quick to react. Either I’d start feeling hot, cold, or nauseous. I waited several minutes while keeping a wary eye on my surroundings, but nothing happened, except that my stomach growled several more times.
Well, how about that, I thought. I just found a… er… steakapede!
I pulled the rest of the upper half of the creature from the water and took the remains to the shore. The lower half of the steakapade was still trapped under the rock and wasn’t thrashing anymore.
After a thorough inspection and some finger-poke taste tests, I determined which parts of the bug would be best to eat. The meat was almost sickeningly soft, like a too-warm slice of cheese. But it was tasty. I chewed and wondered absently if the meat would firm up if exposed to fire. It was something I decided I’d try someday, if I found myself back out here.
But I wasn’t about to spend the rest of my life in the jungle. I had to find out if the Lakunae had dropped any more of the Revenge’s crew on this planet.
The sky was beginning to get noticeably darker. If I were on Mars, I would have three or four hours of light left. On this alien world, any estimate would be nothing more than an uninformed guess. Either way, it was time to start moving again. Water brought animals, animals brought predators, and after the steakapede and how flimsy I’d found it?
This planet’s new apex predator, I knew, was me.
Chapter Nine
I washed my hands in the water, chanced a sip, picked up another smooth river stone the size of my closed fist, and turned cautiously toward the jungle. My initial pace was slow as I adjusted to my surroundings and avoided positions where
