A cacophony of telepathic calls filled the Launching Tree’s branches as the three thousand blind, parasitic, flying stingrays hanging from the branches tried to psych out their opponents. We were all here for the same reason--to kick off adulthood with a ceremonial race for the best hosts. My uneven wings would make it hard to keep up with the other baron-class arytas, but as a baroness, at least I had a size advantage over the thousands of worker-class arytas filling the tree’s lower branches. 

You might as well give up already, Elva. A telepathic voice cut through the chaos. It was Tashi, a baroness who’d hatched on the same day as I had. Reaching down from the branch above me, she poked my tail with her tendril-like antennae. No way you’re catching anything good with that bum wing of yours. You’ll be lucky if you beat the workers to a lame seor. 

I tightened my tail’s grip on my branch, fighting against the urge to partially uncurl it and sting her. I couldn’t risk launching late because of a fall. Even with a bum wing, I can out-fly someone who lost their first-host to red fever.

Her mind bristled. At least I didn’t run to the healer with my tail curled at the first sign of illness, hatchling. 

And how’d that turn out for you, corpse rider? I knew I was poking a rabid vez with that question, but it wasn’t like she had much time to make me regret it. Any minute now, the launching bells would ring, and hundreds of flying barons would separate us. She wouldn’t be able to punish me then. 

My branch jostled. I sent out telepathic waves to sense what it was, but conflicting waves from thousands of other arytas made it impossible to sense anything more than a flash of movement. Pain knifed through my good wing. I jerked back with a mental cry that made Tashi laugh. 

Not so confident now, are you?

The continuing stabs of pain in my wing meant she must’ve stung me. It wasn’t entirely against the rules, but it was definitely frowned on to attack an opponent before the competition had even started. Not to mention, it felt like she’d emptied her venom sacks in me. She’d be hard-pressed to capture any host without the ability to paralyze it. Was she really petty enough to waste that much venom on me?

The launching bells rang, and the air filled with flapping of wings. I threw out my antennae to feel for Tashi, but I only hit a passing aryta. 

Watch it, L’var shouted. He was one of the smallest barons, so he’d been situated toward the middle of the tree. If he was already passing me, I had to get going. 

I uncurled my tail and fell from the branch. Taking off was never easy for me, but this was different. I flapped my wings, and my right wing didn’t move right at all. The pain had started to die down, replaced by a rock-like sensation as my muscles stiffened. I plummeted past fluttering wings and branches that tore at my velvety skin. 

Before I could even think about grabbing a branch to stop my fall, I hit another aryta with enough force to knock her out of the air. Through the haze of her fury, I sensed Preni’s mind. She was the biggest worker in the group but still smaller than me. Even as helpless as I was, she didn’t dare say a word against a baroness.

Sorry, I shouted, even though the word would likely be lost as I fell past her. I flung out my tail in the vain hope that I might be able to stop myself. My tail slammed into a branch and bounced off before I could grasp it, but it might’ve slowed my fall. 

I grabbed another branch. It was dead and splintered beneath my weight, but it slowed me again. Maybe the next branch-

***

My whole body felt like I’d been mauled by a vez. There was blood, more than I wanted to think about. I couldn’t feel my right wing. My head pounded as telepathic misfires rattled around my skull. My right antenna kept trying to telelocate, sending out waves of telepathy despite my efforts to stop it. My left antenna was on fire. 

Where was I? It was flat-ish and hard, with twigs and leaves poking my stomach. It smelled like dirt. Was it the ground? I couldn’t remember ever touching the ground without a host. It was one of the first things the hatchling minders taught us--falling to the ground meant death.

I had to get back to the canopy. 

I pulled my tail beneath me and coiled it like a spring. Even if I couldn’t fly, I might be able to reach a low branch and swing myself to safety. Only, I couldn’t make any sense of my surroundings with telelocation. Everything was a jumble of corners and curves. I struggled to raise my body off the ground. My tail trembled, and my wings drooped. Forcing every scrap of strength I had into my tail, I leapt into the air. 

I hit the ground so quickly that it was painfully obvious I hadn’t actually jumped. Shivering, I used my tail to scoot along the ground like an inchbeetle. Sooner or later, I had to run into a tree. Then I could use my belly hooks to climb back into the canopy. I would be safe there until I healed enough to fly. If there were any hosts left, they would be as small and sickly as I felt right now, but at least I would be alive. 

The ground vibrated. Something was coming closer, something big. There was no way I could reach a tree before it noticed me. I played dead. 

A smooth, hard object scooped me off the ground. Someone might’ve found me. Except, I didn’t sense anyone’s mind. Was I really that hurt? Even if I couldn’t telelocate, I should be able to sense people, or at the very least be able to talk. 

Hello? Who’s there? I can’t hear you. 

The object turned over, dropping me into an equally smooth container. Why would anyone- No, this couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t have been captured by an elsewalker. Their mining camp was miles away from the colony’s border. They couldn’t have come this far unnoticed. I tried to push myself out of the container, but a lid kept me trapped inside. 

I’d seen the containers elsewalkers used to collect samples of our world. They varied in size, but they were all secure metal containers. Rumor said weak arytas had been captured by the elsewalkers before, but I’d never believed them. No one could be weak enough to fall into the hands of a species so slow and clumsy. No one except me, apparently. 

Bracing my back against the bottom of the container, I pushed against the lid with as much force as my tail could muster. It wasn’t much, and the lid didn’t budge. 

Hello, anyone? I broadcasted. 

No reply. Of course there was no reply. Even if I’d been seen, no one would care to save someone who’d been weak enough to fall prey to an elsewalker. I had to free myself. Somehow. For now, I’d better rest and conserve my strength. The moment the elsewalker opened the container, I would make a break for it. 

After a few minutes, there was a jolt, and it became uncomfortably warm. Something was about to happen, and I had to be ready to escape. Coiling my tail beneath me, I raised my antennae high enough to touch the lid. As soon as it moved out of the way, I would jump. 

The lid started moving, but it was sliding, not lifting away. I flung out my antennae in search of a gap between the lid and container. Hard rods poked through the gap. They pinched the edge of my wing with flattened, textured tips that dug into my flesh. I tried to leap through the gap and tear out of their grip, but all I got for my trouble was more pain. 

The rods dragged me out of the container into air so thin and dry it made me gasp. I flapped my wings wildly, flailing my tail stinger around in search of the elsewalker. All I found was more hot, dry air. Another set of rods pinched my other wing, and two more sets pinched my tail at the base and end. They moved in concert, carrying me through the air before pressing me against lukewarm skin. 

The animal was mostly hairless and smelled like a combination of otherworldly chemicals, rot, and elsewalkers. It had a long, narrow torso with two skinny forelimbs and a hairy, round head.

Something sharp poked my back, and I flinched. My head swam like I’d taken a sleeping draught. Pain faded, but so did my ability to focus. My mind drifted away from my body.