Alien, Mine (32 page)

Kulluk let out a bellow of laughter and capped the man’s shoulder in a gentle grip. The New Zealander moved into her peripheral vision, halting just behind and to her left. Anxious, protective tension radiated from his stiff form.

“Tell him we can fix this,” Kendril said.

The man before her frowned. “I thought they spoke English.”

“Sergeant Kulluk has learned the odd oath or two from me, but we have intracranial translators, so they can understand you—since I came on the scene—but you’ll need one to understand them. Anyone who wants one can have one. And Corporal Shrenkner says you’ll be as right as rain.” Kendril spoke again. “She’s going to give you something for the pain, alright?”

He nodded, and before long a lot of tension drained from his bearing as his distress eased.

“Ready?” she asked.

His gaze switched from her to Kulluk, then over the other soldiers and captives.

“Yes.”

Kulluk offered a supportive shoulder and under the watchful eye of the New Zealander, they shuffled towards the gates. The Kiwi turned to her.

“Rod,” he said and held out his hand.

She took it. “I was captive too, the Angrigans rescued me. They’re a decent people.”

Mostly.

The bleakness in Rod’s gaze lightened a little.

“It took me a while too, to trust I really was safe.”

A brisk nod signified his understanding, and he turned to the remainder of the group. “What are you waiting for,” he hollered, “a written invitation?”

The refugees shuffled forward, slowly at first and then with growing confidence. The able bodied supported the infirm, while soldiers lifted wounded into their arms, and carried them away or provided support for those determined to walk. Some left on litters. Abducted aliens and humans alike tended each other—surviving comrades from a difficult passage of time.

She turned to find Eugen and spotted him, head and shoulders above most everybody else, at the entrance to the compound, apparently talking to himself. No doubt he was communicating with a ship or soldiers elsewhere on the ground, formulating plans and doing general ‘General’ stuff. Dexter was no longer with him.

“Sandrea?”

She turned and found her lizard perched with imperial arrogance on Dovzshak’s shoulder. “Yes, Dov’?”

“A couple of teams are going to search the huts. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

“What did he say?” Rod asked.

“They’re going to check the huts, make sure no one is left behind.”

He nodded and turned back to survey the exodus.

Sandrea followed Dovzshak to the nearest building. On the threshold, she baulked. Every demon and horror from memory reared up before her. Every corpse, every terrified moan of agony from her time of captivity seemed to lurk within the dark interior.

“You go in, Private,” Kendril murmured over her shoulder. Her friend’s hand wrapped around her arm and gently shifted her away. “Call if you require assistance.”

Dexter chucked and bobbed his head.

“It’s okay, Dexter, you go with Dov’,” Sandrea said.

Her eyes clung to them as they entered shadows that held every writhing, unrelieved terror, and pain.

“I believe I am very much over this, Shrenk’,” she murmured, unable to fully suppress the tremor that wobbled her voice.

Kendril shrugged. “Why do you think I’m a soldier?”

“Because you hate with every fibre of your being what the Bluthen do.”

Dovzshak reappeared, threw, “All clear here,” their way and moved on. Sandrea wandered down the line of huts to the fence, Kendril close behind. Her eyes fell on a patch of reddish brown staining the paved ground. Pain and suffering called from the past. All that she’d witnessed, all that she’d endured, hung in abominable, despicable detail in her mind.

“I never knew it would be this hard, Shrenk’.”

A branch cracked.

She flinched, then spun toward the trees on the other side of the fence and backed away. Leaves rustled. Kendril swung her weapon to the sound.

“Look yer ruddy, great, daft bugger,” a female Australian voice muttered, “you’re in no condition to go traipsing through the woods.”

A moment’s silence seemed filled with the implication of action.

“Don’t give me that. I know you can understand me, God knows how, but you can.”

A low grumble, like someone mumbling under their breath reached her curious ears.

“I have no intention of being left behind, you needn’t worry about that,” the female continued. “You stay here and I’ll go fetch the cavalry.”

A grunt coincided with a heavy thump.

“Keep still! For heaven’s sake,
don’t
make me sit on you again.”

“Hello?” Sandrea called.

The dark head of a woman thrust through a thicket.

“Hello, yourself,” she said, then frowned. “Who are you?”

T’Hargen lumbered into view beside the woman.

“Sandrea?”

She stared in astonishment, worried at the rough appearance of his clothes and skin, then pointed her index finger at him.

“Friend of his.”

“How the hell did you find me, woman?”

“I didn’t know you were missing. Are you okay?”

“No, he isn’t,” the unknown woman said.

Sandrea ran her eyes over the abraded state of T’Hargen’s clothes, the rigid hold of his body that suggested he used all his strength to remain upright. “Are you going to be all macho, or shall we send a litter for you?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Send a litter,” the woman said.

T’Hargen’s chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head.

“Wretched woman saved my life and now she thinks she owns me.”

“In some cultures on Earth, that would be the case,” Sandrea said, unable to resist.

T’Hargen’s head snapped up and horrified rejection flashed through his eyes. Dovzshak emerged from the last hut and strode toward them.

“Jesus!” the woman exclaimed. “Are they all this big? I’m Kat, by the way.”

Her dark hair, and beautiful, flawless, coffee-coloured skin testified to an ancestral amalgam of Torres Straight Islander and European.

“We’ve completed a sweep of the huts, Corporal,” Dovzshak reported. “There’s no one left.” His glance cut to T’Hargen and Kat. “On this side of the fence.”

Dexter vaulted from Dovzshak’s chest and landed with a light pounce on Sandrea’s shoulder. He crooned in her ear, and she tickled him under the chin.

“We’re all that’s out here,” Kat assured.

“Dov’, go and give T’Hargen a hand, will you?” Sandrea asked.

“Sure.”

He pulled a palm-size tablet from within his armour, unwrapped one end with care, then ran it down the wire fence. The links parted like people before a caped figure on an ashen horse. Dovzshak ran a few more lines then peeled the wire back, stepped through, and hitched a shoulder under one of T’Hargen’s. They shuffled through the hole in the fence, Kat close behind.

“Do you require aid?” Sandrea asked the other woman.

Kat shook her head. Dark, matted strands of hair swirled around her face. “No, a decent meal, or two, and a hot bath will heal my problems.”

“You’re lucky,” she muttered, following in the wake of the two men, “I could have done with the services of a psychologist when I got here.”

Kat laughed. “I am a psychologist.”

Her eyes widened. “Bet you’ve been busy.”

A dark cloud of sorrow dimmed Kat’s features. “All too much. Between dredging up my basic medical skills and trying to keep people sane in an insane situation . . .” She sighed. “I lost a few. Some escaped into death, others into whatever alternative reality they could invent. I got away a couple of days ago, thought I could do more about freeing us from out here.”

“Is T’Hargen alright?”

“Apart from being a bull-headed, mean-tempered, arrogant SOB?”

A mumbled, “I heard that,” drifted back to them, and a fond smile arched Kat’s lips.

“He’s a real sweetie underneath. A kitten,” Sandrea said.

“I heard that also,” came an offended growl.

“So, yes,” she said to Kat, “apart from that?”

Kat’s eyebrows lifted and fell in a speculative shrug. “If their physiology is similar to ours, yes, I think so. Who’s the big guy over by the fence? He stares at you as though you’re his— Never mind, none of my business.”

Sandrea sent her gaze to Eugen. A warm flush of love and pride softened her mouth.

That’s my man!
“That is General Mhartak, T’Hargen’s brother, and I
am
his and he is mine.”

“Oh.”

The surprise and mild discrimination in the other woman’s tone came as an unexpected judgment. The strange hint of relief an anomaly.

Don’t tell me she of all people judges a person by their skin?

“You disapprove?” Sandrea raised a brow.

Guilt flashed across Kat’s face. “No! I—” The other woman’s gaze settled on T’Hargen’s back.

Ah. Go get him, tiger.

“Sorry.” Kat lifted a hand in a gesture of bewildered apology.

“Forget it. Being abducted and mistreated by aliens is bound to screw up a person’s emotional compass. I’ve dropped the etiquette ball a few times.”

“I’ll say,” muttered T’Hargen.

“Shut up, Cupcake.”

Dovzshak hustled T’Hargen after the last of the detainees shuffling through the gates and Sandrea slowed to a halt next to Rod. The New Zealander ran a hard, blue gaze over Kat.

“So you decided to come back,” he sneered.

“I never abandoned any of you.”

“No, you just took the opportunity to save your own neck.”

“Lucky for T’Hargen, I’d say,” Sandrea injected.

Rod speared her a look of angry resignation.

“Is that everyone?” Sandrea asked.

“Yes. Those of us still alive anyway.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Kat said, “I’ll go see if anyone needs me.”

Rod opened his mouth, and Sandrea grabbed his arm. “Leave it.”

His eyes arrowed to hers then his shoulders slumped. Weariness carved his features like a man forced to carry a heavy load for far too long.

“It’s okay to let go now,” she said.

His head bowed, tremors rippled across his face, while violent shudders tore through him.

“They made me watch their abominable experiments,” he said.

A harsh breath expelled from her lungs. Her jaw tightened.

Surely a torment formulated in hell.

Sandrea tightened her grip on his arm and stood a little closer. “It will be alright.”

A long moment later he rasped in a deep breath and straightened. “Where will we be taken?”

“Probably the Angrigan home world.”

He stared at her then blinked. “I hear another shoe falling.”

Boot more likely.

She eyed his ravaged face. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

He shrugged. “At this stage I’m just grateful to be rescued.”

“The Angrigans and their allies do not have the means to repatriate us.”

“And the hits just keep on coming. So we’re stuck here?”

“Yes.”

His head bobbed a few times as he accepted this detail then his gaze drifted to Kendril and swept over the remaining soldiers.

“They seem a pretty decent bunch.”

“They are.”

His focus turned to follow the slowly moving group of refugees.

“Come on, Rod.” She tucked her hand under his elbow. “Let’s get the flock out of here.”

He glanced down at her, a suggestion of humour tugged at the corners of his eyes then a chuckle burst forth.

“Thank you.”

She smiled in understanding and encouragement, then urged him into motion. A keen sense of stewardship rose in her for these beings with whom she shared so much. She mothered along beside them, offering an encouraging smile here, a comforting clasp there. The speculative glances aimed at the few human women by some of the Angrigan soldiers troubled her and she made a mental note to straighten that out as soon as possible.

Who would have thought that one offhand comment, uttered on the far side of the Galaxy, about the mythical sexual appetites of human females would come back and bite her on the bum?

Mhartak’s molars ground together with almost enough force to split atoms.

It’s only comfort. She only offered a traumatized man comfort.

He repeated the litany over and over. But that wasn’t all that bothered him. The comfortable, easy way Sandrea interacted with the human male shot a sliver of doubt straight through him. With a huge effort, he subjugated his possessive jealousy into grumbling, mumbling discontent in the back corners of his mind.

But the seed of uncertainty had sprouted and refused to die.

The group made slow, steady progress past long, pre-fab buildings. Compassionate anger compressed Sandrea’s lips when the refugees turned their heads from the structures, no doubt the site of many horrors. Rounding a corner, she recognized the hanger they’d escaped from—the gaping hole in the wall a dead giveaway. Heat reflected from the tarmac and washed over her sweat-filmed body. She halted at the base of a transport’s lowered aft ramp and stood to one side as Rod and Kendril boarded, then joined the medics in settling the group.