Lethal Planet by Rob May Page B

ring that would let him talk to his friends. Then he remembered—Brandon still had the rings. He was supposed to hand them over during the ceremony.
    ‘But the worst thing,’ Doo said in a low voice, ‘is that Zaal seems to have deserted us. Do you know the history of the war between the balaks and the zelfs?’
    ‘No,’ Jason said. ‘I don’t even know much about human history. I used to sleep in Mister Fisher’s lessons.’
    ‘Three thousand years ago, the balaks were the most powerful tribe on Corroza. Zaal gave us strength. The zelfs had no gods; they were weak, disorganised and fractured. We were always beating them down, stealing their food and lands.’
    ‘Ha. Nice,’ Jason grunted.
    ‘But then the first Arch Predicant rose up and united the zelfs,’ Doo went on. ‘And how did he do that? By stealing our god for his own ends, naming himself a prophet and uniting the zelfs to crush us as heretics.’
    Jason listened patiently. This was the point where, if this were a video game, he would usually press skip cutscene .
    ‘The Arch Predicant dictated that statues and idols of Zaal were forbidden—probably because Zaal looked more like a balak than a zelf—so all our temples and statues were torn down. The statue of Zaal we were to be married before was the last standing in the world. I’m scared that Zaal has finally given up, or deserted us, Jason.’
    Jason had no words to console her. He had no words and no thoughts. Back on Earth, he never gave religion (or other people’s problems in general) even an instant of his attention. So the next words out of his mouth were impulsive, and probably sounded a lot braver and more significant then he intended them to:
    ‘You don’t need Zaal, Doo. You’ve got me instead. And the game is still on: we will take down the Arch Predicant even if it’s just you and me. I swear it. I didn’t get to make any vows to you at the temple, so I’m making one now!’
    In the darkness of their jungle bolthole, Doo hugged Jason tighter than anyone had ever done before.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    09— SAVAGES
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The rest of the night passed quietly. Most of the jungle animals were either keeping their heads down to avoid predators, or were predators themselves, silently stalking their prey. Jason was woken by the smell of cooking. By the light of the fire and the faint dawn sun, Jason could see they were in a cave of tree roots. Doo was cooking what looked like sausages. She had four of them spiked on the end of a stick, turning them slowly over the flames.
    ‘Smells delicious,’ Jason said. ‘What you cooking? Catron kebabs?’
    Doo gave him a funny look. ‘Zams,’ she said.
    Jason looked closer. The things on the end of the stick were like long thin potatoes. Some kind of tuber, he guessed. Suddenly he didn’t feel that hungry. The zams didn’t even smell as good as they did when he thought they were meat.
    ‘We should have set some traps before we went to sleep,’ Jason said. ‘We need to get proper meals whenever we can grab them.’
    Doo’s expression went from puzzled to horrified. ‘You … eat animals ?’ she said.
    ‘Of course,’ Jason said. ‘You don’t?’
    ‘All life if sacred to Zaal. Apart from the zelfs, obviously.’
    Back on Earth, Jason had always been suspicious of vegetarians. He had also been suspicious of religious people. Religious vegetarians were more than he could cope with.
    ‘Weirdo,’ he said.
    Doo sniffed. ‘Savage,’ she retorted.
    Jason tried a zam to appease her. It was chewy, but had a kind of zingy flavour, a bit like an Indian curry. ‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘What’s that you’re mixing up? Sauce?’
    ‘Just mud,’ Doo said.
    ‘I am not eating mud!’
    ‘It’s not to eat,’ Doo said. ‘It’s camouflage. You’re a horrible pasty pink colour. Rub this all over your face and arms before we leave.’
    Jason went one better. He tore off his shirt (which had been ripped half to shreds