Definition
1 : delayed beyond the usual time
2 : existing or appearing past the normal or proper time
Long ago, there was a verb belate, which meant "to make late." From the beginning, belate tended to mostly turn up in the form of its past participle, belated. Eventually, belate itself fell out of use, leaving behind belated as an adjective that preserved the original notion of delay. As you may have guessed, belate and its descendant belated derive from the adjective late; belate was formed by simply combining the prefix be- ("to cause to be") with late. Belated was also once used in the sense "overtaken by night," as in "belated travelers seeking lodging for the night." This sense was in fact the first meaning of the adjective, but it has since fallen into disuse.
The moon was high in the sky, despite the sun having been up for hours.
"You know, I heard once that seeing the moon in the daytime was a sign of good luck."
"You mean, you got it from that cheesy knock off film about male cheerleaders - who are only cheerleading so they can get into the female cheerleader's knickers."
"It might be true."
"It also might be, and probably is, typical teenage crap. Besides, what part of our current situation would you deem 'lucky'?" I asked.
We were currently sitting amidst the gently floating pieces of our shredded and destroyed star cruiser - the extremely light gravity of the random planet we crashed on and the strength of our shock absorbent spacesuits being the only things that stopped us from being crushed/smooshed/smeared into people jelly on impact. I guess you could argue it was lucky we were even still alive.
Of course, the planet we landed on, had no breathable atmosphere - not breathable, at least, by beings like us. The natural wildlife of the place, beautiful lush ferns and trees and enormous vibrantly coloured flowers that would have looked right at home in a tropical paradise, seemed to thrive on it.
We would be dead in seconds if we removed our helmets.
There was the air in our personal tanks, and a little bit that was still in one of the storage units that had not cracked or smashed to bits when we crashed. That was it.
I was trying not to think too much about what would happen if no help came before our air ran out.
It would be fine. We'd crashed from a frequently journeyed merchant route, a distress signal had been sent out and locked onto our suits before we entered orbit, some one would find us. Plus, the computer diagnostic machine was already running simulations for alternative means of oxygen extraction from the surrounding area. It would be fine.
It would be fine. If I hyperventilated now I would just be using more air than I needed and would die faster.
I would damn well be fine, even if it killed me.
"At least we haven't run into any of the local fauna." My co-pilot said jauntily.
At that moment, a low growl emanated from a nearby bush. Slinking out of it, looking like it was made of darkness incarnate, was a large dog like creature. Its teeth were huge and clearly made for rendering flesh from bone.
"Eep." The co-pilot went.
"You just had to say it." I said calmly. "I swear to God, I've never hated anyone as much as i hate you."
"That seems a little harsh." He said weakly, trying to feebly inch closer to me without drawing the dogs attention.
He drew it anyway. The dog's growling increased in volume and ferocity.
"You're a walking jinx. If you hadn't spilled that damn drink over the console and said 'oh, I'm sure it will be fine, these things are completely waterproofed by now, It's fine, it's not like anything bad will happen' and thereby short circuiting the entire steering system and crashing us on this unihabited, unihabitable planet. I mean, honestly, how could I not hate you? And now you've managed to summon some sort of demon dog, just by talking. Christ I hate you." I continued on, ignoring the dog.
If it attacked, well, one rip in my suit and it was bye bye breathable air, hello impending death by suffocation or else death by mauling. I wasn't sure which I preferred. We couldn't leave the wrecking either - it contained the only spare breathable air on the planet and, once the communications were back up and running after the AI diagnostics had fixed it, the only way of knowing whether help was coming.
The dog growled, edging closer.
Yep, death anyway you looked at it. I looked at the sky, the moon still determinedly sailing after her sister the sun, despite being far from her home turf and only considered a pale imitation of her. Still, there she was, seemingly determined to overtake her.
I offered her a salute. You had to admire those kind of stubborn-as-a-mule guts.
My mother just to say I was the most stubborn person she'd ever met. Well, now I'd clearly been outclassed. I giggled.
The co-pilot looked at me in bewildered horror.
Oh dear, perhaps I was running out of air sooner than I or my suit released. There must be a tear somewhere. I felt lightheaded.
I couldn't remember to care.
The dog was closer. Still growling, still ferocious.
Kinda cute though. Reminded me of my dog back home. Except, wait, I never had a dog. Well then, must remind me of some dog some where that I met once upon a time.
"Hey doggie!" I called out of it.
The co-pilot grabbed me. "What do you think you're doing?" He hissed at me.
I shook him off. "C'mere boy, come on." I gestured.
The dog had halted, clearly confused. His ears kept going up and down as he pondered his options. Totes adorbs as the kids in the training centres would say.
"You don't want to come over?" I cajoled. "No? OK, well." I rooted amongst the debris around me. "How about this then." I triumphantly held up a metal...stick thing. Might have been the gear stick. Who knew? "FETCH" I bellowed and chucked it as far as I could - which was actually pretty far in this low gravity. To our utter surprise, the dog gave a cheerful bark and went haring off after it.
I laughed - and then found I couldn't stop laughing. I laughed so hard I lost my balance and slowly fell over backward. The edges of my vision started going dark and I felt my grip on wakefulness slowly slackening.
Slowly falling into the dark, the last things i saw was my co-pilot shouting something completely intelligible into my helmeted face, the star ship hovering above us in the sky and that big black dog. Bounding over the smashed remains of my beloved star ship, ears pricked, big grin on its face, dragging that metal pipe behind him like it was the jewel of the galaxy.
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