Alien, Mine (17 page)

Thank God the Bluthen haven’t shown up yet.

“I would prefer not to be here at nightfall,” T’Hargen yawned at her.

Anger and fear snapped her restraint. “Look,” she snarled, “you don’t do water,
I
don’t do heights. Deal with it.”

Nothing. No overture of apology, no suggestion to take her time. Her slowly waxing nerve bolstered her spirit.

Fine, if you can’t offer support the least you can do is serve as a distraction.

“Are we there yet?” she asked.

“No.”

A determined smile flashed through her distress, and she let maybe five seconds pass as they continued to climb.

“Are we there yet?”

“No!”

She scrambled upward. A warm glow of impudent glee forged her strength.

“Are we there yet?”

The response could have been a ‘No’, but there was so much guttural inflection in the word it could have just been a snarl.

“Are w—”

“NO!”
T’Hargen spun abruptly, his scowl so fierce and frustrated her ravaged spirit felt healed. He glared down at her, apparently rooted to the spot.

Vengeance is mine.

“What?” she asked with the best nuance of innocence she could muster and then lightened her features into bright hope. “We’re there?”

The tremor that rippled through T’Hargen looked like it almost shook him from his precarious stance. The grimace that twisted across his face felt like sunshine on her heart. When he remained in stiff, unmoving silence she huffed out a dramatic sigh.

“If we’re not there yet,
do
keep moving. I don’t want to be here at nightfall.”

T’Hargen wrenched himself forward and she allowed him to take one step, two, then let rip a ditzy giggle.

His entire body stiffened as though concrete replaced every muscle. She could practically
see
revulsion crawl up his spine. His hands clenched and unclenched half a dozen times.

“Come on,” she urged, “get a wriggle on. I assume we’ve got a ways to go.”

By the time the track led them to a tunnel entrance, Sandrea almost skipped with the euphoria of having survived the climb. She followed T’Hargen into the dark passageway, but as they proceeded into relative safety, exhilaration abandoned her. A tidal surge of wretchedness and exhaustion slammed into her. Her steps lagged and T’Hargen drew ahead.

“Keep that pace up and you’ll arrive alone,” she wheezed, and leaned her shoulders into the rough rock wall, her eyes closing. Christ, she felt dreadful, light-headed and nauseous, and cold as though frost trapped her soul. Every muscle quivered as if they barely had the strength to cling to her bones.

“We will relax here for a moment,” T’Hargen’s voice decreed from nearby.

Great.

She slid down the wall and collapsed into a feeble bundle.

T’Hargen eyed the human woman as she lay sprawled in a loose-limbed heap. Compared to most Angrigans, she was petite and weak, yet her spirit was strong. She challenged him at every turn, which was novel.

Nobody but his brother dared push his buttons.

Now that he was calm, he admired the way she’d taken careful aim and triggered exasperated anger in him, no doubt her revenge for the disregard he’d shown of her proposal at the bridge. Those repetitive quips of ‘Are we there yet?’ uttered with fake, sweet submission were lethal.

And that
noise
, g’Nel! What had that been? It had tripped up his spine, goading him to run and wretch at the same time. She’d damn near had him off the side of the cliff then.

He’d seen the violent way her legs shook in reaction to their height and the temptation to offer support shocked and annoyed the hell out of him. Besides, if he’d shown the slightest compassion she’d have been stuck there. Or so he’d thought. Now he wondered if that truly would have been the case. This diminutive human seemed quite capable of doing whatever she had to.

Could that be the cause of the underlying component he sensed to his brother’s professional concern for her welfare.

Personal? Is he smitten?

She certainly exhibited some admirable physical attributes, if you went for that sort of thing. But Mhartak had more substance than that. What had this female done for him or others to generate such a response?

It seemed his initial estimation of the alien may well have been incorrect. He recalled the way Mhartak deferred to her in the ditch. What had that been about? His brother hadn’t been about to leave the safety of their concealment without her assessment of the situation.

And he’d enjoyed holding her.

He clamped his lips in irritation and again suppressed a response he’d already buried more than once. So? The feel of slight steel under curvy, feminine softness pressed against his hard muscle obviously called to the male in him. It was nothing. A mere carnal reaction. There was no room for dalliance here, besides if Mhartak had claimed her . . .

She doesn’t act as though he has. Not with those fiery looks she spears at him.

Yes, there was more to this human than met the eye, and now that he’d glimpsed some depth of her character he had to admit his curiosity about her was growing.

Chapter 10

“. . . And Let the Reptile Live . . .”

“We are not there yet, Miss Fairbairn.”

Sandrea leaned her head onto hard rock and smiled.
No, I guess not.

Her body still ached, but had at least ceased to feel like it might disintegrate at any moment. She opened her eyes. A strong, capable hand hovered before her.

“We will keep the pace slow for a while,” T’Hargen said.

“Thank you.”

She wrapped her hand around his wrist. Muscle rippled beneath her fingers and with gentle strength he helped her to her feet. A memory of Eugen steadying her with considerate attention in Kintista med-centre sprang to mind.

“Lean on me if you need to,” T’Hargen offered.

“Um, thanks.”

The idea of leaning into his solid strength appealed, but doubt paused the sway of her body towards his.

How come he’s being so nice?

“Perhaps it would be best if I don’t, er, hinder your movements. In case we run into more trouble.”

He inclined his head. “As you wish.” He activated a white light on his weapon and led her into the blackness of the narrow tunnel.

Before her, T’Hargen’s head almost brushed the rock ceiling and his wide shoulders often scraped the walls. Ambient light filtered around his form and haloed his profile. Beneath her cautious feet, the passage ran smooth and even, then began to rise and twist back on itself. Multiple, discrete echoes of their progress bounced back and forth then retreated like ghosts fading away into the dark behind. The tunnel widened, and she stepped to T’Hargen’s side.

“This pace is to your satisfaction?” he asked.

Jeez, he sounds like Eugen.

“Fine, thanks.”

Something glittered in the beam of his torch. Numerous strings of sparkles hung low across the width of the passage and down its length for quite a way. Their loveliness did not seem to be reflected in T’Hargen’s manner, not if the word he spoke was translated accurately.

“What is it?”

“Plinkoths.”

Oh, I do enjoy a good plinkoths’ ploy
.

“And?”

“They’re a cave-dwelling carnivore native to this planet. Those long filaments secrete a sticky slime to catch moths and bats that are then drawn up into their mouths.” He trained the torchlight to the tunnel ceiling where a number of white, disc-like blobs clung to the rock. “We should crawl under them. The tentacles’ secretion is quite acidic, even on Angrigan skin. I would not like for you to experience its effects.”

Concern for me? The warmth of a polite yet familiar tone? Who is this man, and what has he done with T’Hargen? Not that I’m complaining . . .

“I doubt if the Bluthen know of plinkoths,” he continued. “Any soldiers following us will more than likely blunder straight into these. Despite the fact that they appear fragile, these creatures are quite tough. They would definitely cause a delay in any pursuit.”

“Right then, under them it is. After you.”

She crouched then commando-crawled after T’Hargen and stood when he did, the plinkoths a safe distance behind. The path steepened immediately and began to switch back on itself with almost frenetic frequency. Exertion burned uncomfortably through her muscles as they climbed. She concentrated on her breathing, exhaling as though pushing the air out through the soles of her feet.

A faint, distant scream—as sufficient a warning system as any—ricocheted up the tunnel. For a split second her gaze locked with T’Hargen’s, then as one they sprinted forward. They sped around a corner and T’Hargen’s jostling light revealed a long incline. She practically heard her legs groan while her calf muscles sued for separation. The incentive of advancing Bluthen kept her pace up the slope.

Natural light filtered into her vision. The tunnel widened, the roof drew off. Numerous dark, rectangular doorways loomed either side of the passageway. The soft light brightened. They turned a corner where the floor levelled and pelted from the tunnel into a large cavern.

Two windows carved into thick rock with vertical bars spanning their openings flanked a wide, closed, metal door. She ran forward and peered out. A deep, narrow chasm fell away before her. Just visible to her right a causeway bridged the abyss. Across the gorge, rocky mountain slopes huddled, grey and miserable. Gold-tinted white clouds in a blue sky reflected a clear sunset. She shivered in the chill breeze blowing through the opening.

“Where’re the controls for the door?” she asked.

“Outside.”

What?

She swung to face T’Hargen. “The controls are
where?
”

“The tunnels and this cavern were delved and used by a resistance movement, a good forty or fifty years ago. Then it was turned into a detention centre, and the guards posted outside would operate the door.” He raised his handgun. “If you will step aside?”

She took several swifts steps to the side and back.

T’Hargen fired the weapon. The door repulsed the bolt and bounced the energy around the cavern.

Her eyes widened, her heart clenched and she hit the deck.

“Any more bright ideas?” she muttered into the stone-paved floor as the ricochet petered out.

“The security should be deactivated,” T’Hargen grumbled.

She raised her head and scowled across at his prostrate form. “Apparently that is not the case.” Over the noisy pounding of her heart, she listened for signs of advancing Bluthen. “What else have you got?”

T’Hargen planted his hands on the floor and levered himself up. His mouth opened, then closed. His jaw thrust sideways.

“And you thought this was a good place to lead us,” she growled.
“
We could have crossed the
bloody water!”

Shit.
She leapt to her feet and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “Come on.” She dragged him to one of the windows.

Cool air rippled a shiver through her. It would not help her flexibility, but then neither would rigor mortis, for even if the Bluthen didn’t want her dead immediately, she held no doubts that would be her eventual fate if they got their hands on her.

“What are you doing?” T’Hargen demanded.

“I will
not
be a Bluthen prisoner again,” she growled. “And
we
are getting us out of here.”

She stripped off her vest and threw it to the floor. Dark fear billowed and threatened to consume her. She screwed it down.

“You were captured by the Bluthen and
survived
?”

“Yes, and let me assure you that once is at least twice too many times. Give me a lift.”

T’Hargen gazed at her blankly.

She shot out an agitated sigh.

“Look, the controls to the door are outside, yes?”

He nodded.

“You’re going to throw me onto the causeway and I’m going to open the door. Got it?”

“Providing the controls still work,” he said, pointing out a flaw.

“You’re a proverbial little ray of sunshine, aren’t you? Anyway, that’ll be your problem if they don’t.”

T’Hargen flicked a glance out the window. “You really don’t want to be captured again, do you?”

She didn’t bother to answer his rhetorical question. He pressed his fingers firmly into her waist. Her feet left the floor, and then he tilted her sideways. She raised her arms and threaded them between the bar furthest from the door and the rock frame of the window. Her head followed and she ratcheted her chin this way, then that, to manoeuvre through the narrow opening.

Her scapula scraped painfully against unyielding stone, then her hips slid out and she gripped the bars with white-knuckled fervour. T’Hargen’s hold on her thighs tightened. Gravity dragged at her body. Her heart felt like it might throw up. She argued with her hands, forcing them to move from bar-to-bar until they gripped the post nearest the door and her legs almost slipped clear of the window.

“Brace your feet against the sill,” T’Hargen ordered.

She tried to bury her boots into the rock. One hand at a time, T’Hargen transferred his hold from her ankles to her wrists.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

She clenched her stomach muscles, begged her biceps to support her weight, and lowered her body down the outside stone face. Fear wrapped cold fingers around her throat and squeezed. The chill breeze coiled around her like a wraith eager for her corpse.

“Are you ready?” T’Hargen asked.

She forced a reply. “Yes.”

“How far?”

“About two meters.”

“Very well.”

“T’Hargen?”

“Yes?”

“It’s a long way down.”

Her ears desperately strained to hear an ‘I won’t let you fall’ tone in his reply.

“Acknowledged.”

“I’m letting go now,” she warned. Her brain issued the order, but her fingers out and out refused it.

“I don’t want to rush you . . .” T’Hargen encouraged.

“I’m working on it.”

“You want me to?”

“You might have to.”

T’Hargen’s grasp tightened on her right forearm while his other hand pried the fingers of both hands from their death grip. She couldn’t quite suppress a whimper. He took her weight and then slowly swung her one way and then the other.

“Oh God, I can hear Bluthen.” She hated the sound of panic in her voice.

“No, you can’t. This swing—” He released his grip.

Fuck!
Desperation focused her attention. A scream fled from her throat. Her boots hit rock, her fingers scrabbled for purchase, then slipped. The chasm below sucked at her. Horrifying memories bobbed with nauseating clarity on a flood of recollection.

Her toes found an anchor and her hands gripped and held. Survival instinct poured hot energy through her limbs. She lunged up, made the causeway, then slumped against the cold rock beside the metal door. Her lungs gulped chill air, and she hoped her heart would soon slow to a pace where it was less likely to start fibrillating. She fisted a hand and thumped the entrance symbol on the keypad. With a hiss and a soft metallic hum, the door slid up.

Half a dozen laser bolts flashed past. T’Hargen leapt over the threshold, bent, and punched the pad closed. The door slammed shut and shouts of alarm echoed from the other side.

He grinned down at her. “Guess they thought the security would be disabled, too.”

Her hackles rose.
How
dare
he enjoy himself!

“Come on, my Ssileela,” he said. “Not far now.”

She braced her back against the rock and struggled to her feet. Something heavy slammed into the door. She was so spent she didn’t even flinch.

“You look done in,” T’Hargen murmured.

She summoned the strength to narrow her eyes at him.
Really, what gave me away?

The door rang to another blow. T’Hargen turned his back to her.

“Up you get,” he ordered.

She eyed his crouched form then clambered onto his back, wrapping her thighs around his waist and winding her arms around his neck. She crossed her mental fingers that the Bluthen still preferred not to shoot her.

T’Hargen’s bounding stride took them across the causeway. She bowed her shoulders, half-expecting to feel the burning pain of a laser strike. They made the safety of the far side then scurried behind a tumble of boulders. The cries of their enemy barely penetrated her consciousness as awareness floated away. She rested her cheek on the expanse of one of T’Hargen’s broad shoulders and let her worries go, placing her trust in this big Angrigan to keep her safe.

T’Hargen crouched and threw another log on the fire blazing in the hearth. The flickering yellow flames imprisoned his gaze.

He hated this croft now, bereft of laughter and love. Even though he’d only been on the fringes, like a solitary person in snow admiring a cheery home through a window, he’d enjoyed the warmth this family had radiated.

g’Nel, he’d thought he abhorred the Bluthen with an unsurpassable passion from the incident so long ago. Now he knew that was not true.

The loathing that now scorched his soul threatened to drive him into an abyss where only demons lurked. He pushed out a heavy sigh. That was why Mhartak had always been the better soldier. He knew how to deal with the demons as ruthlessly as he did the Bluthen. His glance skated from the fire and settled on Sandrea where he’d laid her on the couch. The Bluthen were hunting her. Was she the cause of this family’s death? No, they had died because the Bluthen chose to murder them over of a piece of interstellar communication equipment
.

And what of this woman? What had she endured in the hands of those bastards? What monsters stalked her memories?

Her body jerked and then flinched again. His eyes ran swiftly to her face. Her eyelids flickered as she slept on.

Have those monsters invaded her dreams?

He rose, grabbed a blanket from the pile he’d gathered from the bedrooms, and draped the thick cloth over her. A frown slipped to his forehead. She had been in water today. Her clothes had dried, but . . .

She twitched again and drew her knees closer to her chest. He knelt, unsnapped the clasps of her boots, and drew them off, careful not to wake or startle her. Her soaked, icy socks chilled his fingers.

g’Nel’s bountiful body, it must have been like having her bare feet stuck in snow.

He peeled the foot coverings off and she moaned, pushing dainty feet into his palms.

Seeking warmth?

Against his skin, her flesh felt bloodless-cold. He grabbed another blanket and sponged the dampness from her feet and ankles. Something sharp unfurled in his gut. Chill, dead feelings stirred. Long forgotten warmth stole through his limbs. He dropped the blanket and rose in a rush, staring down at the woman.