Hostage To The Stars: A Sectors SF Romance (8 page)

“Drink some water,” she said, holding the canteen to his lips. “You’re going to get dehydrated.”

“Lemme rest a minute and then I’ll go patrol.” His voice was slurred and faint. A tremor rocked his frame.

Sara patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about patrolling right now. Rest sounds like a good idea.” Gently she covered him with the thin blanket and then retreated to a nearby boulder to sit. Dropping her head into her hands for a moment, she gave in to the tears that had been threatening for the last hour while she tended to Johnny. Sara rocked back and forth, struggling to breathe past the tightness in her chest and lightheadedness. Never in a million years would it have occurred to her something would happen to Johnny. He’d seemed so tough and indestructible.
 

“Sara? You ok?” His voice penetrated her agitated thoughts and she realized he was struggling to rise, to check on her.

In a heartbeat she knelt at his side, pressing him onto the mat. “I’m fine. You don’t worry about me right now. Take care of yourself.”

He fumbled for her hand and held it tight. Blinking, having a hard time focusing, he peered at her. “Promise you, we’ll be ok. Not going to let anything happen to you. Just need time to let the venom work its way out of my system.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I believe you. Rest now, ok?”

He nodded but didn’t let go. “Getting you home. My word on it.”

She realized a moment later he’d passed out. She disengaged her hand from his and covered him up again. Sitting cross legged, she gazed into the depths of the cave and shuddered. “Going to be a long night.”

Sara drowsed off and on as the night progressed but Johnny was restless, muttering in his sleep, throwing the blanket off. She checked on him often, alarmed to find him feverish and sweating. Her fingers tingled where she’d touched his skin. With an exclamation, she realized he’d spoken the literal truth – he was sweating the venom out through his pores. “That can’t be good.” She pondered the advisability of leaving the diluted venom on his skin until he recovered enough to take a bath. Holding the hand lamp close to her fingertips, she could see the skin was inflamed and itching from the brief contact.

Taking the handlamp and moving with extreme caution, she made the trek to the tiny stream meandering down the hillside close to the mouth of the cave, and rinsed her hands. Then, filled with grim determination, she got the remaining strips of torn T shirt, soaked them in the stream and returned to her patient. She bathed his face and hands, appalled to watch as the T shirt fabric absorbed reddish beads of venom-laden sweat. An ugly rash spread over his skin, probably in reaction to the diluted venom.

Realizing there was no other choice, she made a repeat journey to the stream in the dark, rinsed the fabric and carefully retraced her path to the cave. “Johnny? We’ve got to get you undressed and wash off this poison,” she said, hoping against hope he could rouse and handle the task himself. No such luck. He was unresponsive, breathing heavily. “Please let him be completely out of it or this is going to be embarrassing for both of us.” She fumbled with the fastening of his shirt, tugging and pulling until the garment was off.
 

He wore a curious medallion on a chain around his neck, next to the military ID. Gold, an elaborate, mythical-looking creature with tiny gemstone eyes. She examined it for a moment; a bit unnerved by the way the eyes glowed and winked at her in the light from the handlamp. Glancing at his ruggedly handsome face, she thought it didn’t resemble anything she’d have expected him to have. “Probably a gift from a woman,” she muttered, laying the medallion on his skin with a delicate touch. And why should it annoy her in the least that Johnny Danver might have a woman in his life who cared about him enough to give him such an expensive, obviously meaningful token? “Get over yourself, Bridges. It’s none of your business— his personal life is none of your business— as long as he gets you safely off this rock of a planet.”

She bathed his arms and torso, then his rock hard abs, trying not to think of anything except cleansing the venom from his skin. The old scars and a tattoo she found as she washed him were distracting but she made herself keep a clinical mind frame. She played nurse today and he was her patient, nothing more. Humming a tune over and over to distract herself from the awkwardness, she made him roll onto his side so she could clean his back.
 

Another trip to the stream to rinse and refresh the wash cloths.

She got a clean T shirt over his head and tugged it down to keep him somewhat warm and covered. Then she paused. But she couldn’t leave half his body coated in drying venom. “I’ve gone this far, I need to see it through.”

 
Swallowing hard she unfastened his pants and dragged them off his body, being careful not to aggravate the bandaged bite wounds. Discovering Johnny preferred going commando and was impressively built in proportion everywhere made her even more embarrassed as she proceeded with the bath, but she could see when she rinsed the rags how much venom was leaving his system. She told herself she had to do this for him and there was nothing lascivious about her touching the intimate parts of his body for this lifesaving reason. Despite the positive self-talk, she was worn out and stressed by the time she finished the chore and could fight to pull a fresh pair of pants over his frame, closing the fastenings with trembling fingers. “I hope he has no memory of this at all,” she said as she took his venom-soaked clothes to the stream to wash them out as best she could. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to imagine facing him after this. “It had to be done.” Matter of fact, cool and collected was the tone to take when he eventually reawakened.

When she returned to the cave and spread the wet garments out on rocks to dry, he gave the appearance of sleeping more naturally and the sweating had subsided. No need for another bath, she thought with relief. After resting a bit and eating half an energy bar, Sara searched the medkit for the antivenom shot. She sat with the inject in her hand, debating whether to give it to him or not. He’d said he didn’t need it. She wanted to be sure he survived, not only because his survival was essential to her escaping this nightmare planet, but also because he was a decent person who’d put himself at risk for her and she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

Deciding to wait and see how he progressed as the night wore on, she slid the inject into its slot, closed the case and fetched more water. A sip at a time, she managed to coax him into drinking much needed fluid.

Eventually she stopped fighting her exhaustion and dozed off, worn out by marching all day and the events of the early evening.
 

CHAPTER FIVE

She was chained in a filthy cell, lying on her back on a hard surface, with only a thin blanket for covering. Her clothes were torn, disheveled. The door creaked open and the two men she feared most from Umarri’s crew sauntered in. One Eye and Scarface, as she thought of them, came to stand beside the ledge. She scooted into the corner, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. “Leave me alone,” she screamed, the memories of their last visit to her cell still fresh in her mind, along with the bruises.
 

“The Warlord said you are to be a plaything,” One Eye reminded her. “Ours to amuse ourselves with while you wait to be sold to the Shemdylann.” Licking his lips, he ogled her.
 

“Up to a point,” Scarface said, placing his hand on his fellow warrior’s arm. “She’s not worth risking Umarri’s wrath.”

One Eye shook off the restraint. “I know the limits as well as you. But there’s much pleasure to be had, even without crossing the line the warlord set to preserve her value.”

Sara launched herself at him, trying to claw his remaining eye out, but the ankle chains restrained her movements and Scarface dragged her closer, guffawing at her struggles. As the two men forced her onto the bed, pawing at her shirt, she fought and screamed, striking out wildly with her fists.

“Sara, Sara, hush, honey, you’re here with me, it’s ok, they’re gone. Those bastards can’t hurt you ever again.”

She became aware of the deep, calming voice coming from outside the nightmare, not any part of the terrors she’d been made to endure, realizing she wasn’t trapped in Scarface’s scrawny arms after all, but cradled in a strong embrace, protected, guarded by someone who’d never hurt her. She heard the steady, reassuring heartbeat under her ear, where she was pressed to Johnny’s muscular chest, while his big hand stoked her hair. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Breathe in and out and let yourself relax. I’m here and nothing’s going to get past me to hurt you, I promise.”
 

“Bad dream. Nightmare,” she said, hardly able to form words yet.

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “I could tell.”

She pulled back to see his face. He was pale, shadows under his eyes, but he assessed her condition intently. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said.

“I’m glad I was here.” He let her scoot away from him without comment. He seemed to understand why she could only take so much carefully restrained, reassuring touch, even from him.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and sucked in deep breaths. “I dreamt I was in the cell, at the palace. There were these two men of Umarri’s, he gave me to them for a while—”

Johnny was silent. Waiting to see where she was going with the story, she guessed. Letting her talk. “I fought them but my resistance got them more excited. Beating me made them…aroused.”

Moving slowly, he gathered her in to sit next to him, which she allowed because she wanted the comfort. “You’re a fighter, I knew that about you. But the important thing is you did what it took to survive.” He stared into her eyes. “Whatever it took. No one, least of all me, has the standing to judge anything you did or didn’t do to survive. I admire your guts, lady, plain and simple.”

She curled against him, needing the warmth and reassurance more than she needed distance at the moment. “Will the nightmares ever fade, do you think?”

“I imagine so, especially if you get professional help, talk to someone once we’re home in the Sectors.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone about it ever again,” she said, yanking herself out of his hold and rising to pace the floor. Unaccountably angry, her heart pounded so hard she shook and she bet her blood pressure was sky rocketing. “I just want to forget. I want my life to go back to normal. Like it was before.”

He shook his head. “May never happen, I can’t lie. But you go on.”

Struck by his tone, she stared at him. “You sound as if you’ve had personal experience with bad memories.”

He took a swig from the canteen. “Soldier. Goes with the territory.” Rising, keeping one hand on the wall, Johnny staggered a bit.

Guilt flooded over her and she rushed to brace his unsteady balance with her body. “You’ve got to lie down. We’re not going anywhere tonight. Probably not tomorrow either.”

“We’ll see how I’m doing in the morning,” he said. “My old anti venom injects kicked in, better late than not at all. The longer we stay on Farduccir, the more chance of being noticed.” He lay on the mat and closed his eyes. “How did you know to wash the venom residue off me?”

From the heat in her cheeks, Sara knew she was blushing fiery red. Glad he wasn’t looking at her, she said, “I got an instant angry rash on my fingers when I touched your sweaty skin, checking your fever. I figured it out. Seemed inadvisable to let the venom linger.”

“Right. Causes a secondary infection, really nasty. I planned to take a dip in the creek but I passed out before I could. Thanks for being… willing to cope.”

Nice polite way to phrase it.
She smiled. “I owe you my life. I couldn’t let you suffer.”

He lay on the mat, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg where the two bites hurt like hell, with the added joy of the blaster burn. At least the salve numbed the sensations somewhat. Eyes closed, he wished he could think of the right words to say to her, but how do you tell a woman who’s been brutalized repeatedly by thugs that you wished you’d been awake to enjoy the sensation of her hands all over your body? Right, there was no way to express the thought. In her present state she wouldn’t hear the remark as a compliment. Probably feel threatened even though he’d never harm a hair on her head.

Sara Bridges appealed to him. Not only did she invoke his strongest protective instincts, which was hardly surprising, given he was here precisely to rescue her, but also she was brave and funny and growing increasingly beautiful in his eyes the longer he was in her company.
I wish we’d met in an ordinary way.
He risked a glance at her under his barely open eyelids. Huddled against his pack, she tried to catch some more sleep, using the lumpy bag as a pillow. He’d have to maintain awareness in case she had another nightmare or anxiety attack. Even with her understandable aversion to being touched right now, she accepted a certain amount of comfort from him. He could talk her down from the cliff, so to speak.

He tried to imagine them meeting on Azrigone, maybe in the city. A routine encounter between two strangers, going about their everyday lives. He wished he could have had the chance. He’d give anything to spare her from having had to suffer through the kidnapping and abuse. Of course he rarely traveled to the city, hated the crowds. And she’d said she was a researcher in Sector 52 so it was highly unlikely she’d ever be drawn to his home world. Azrigone was in a Sector far removed from the Fifties. So much for fantasies of a normal meeting between a guy and a girl. Once this mission ended, he’d never see her again. He turned the thought over in his mind, increasingly annoyed at the idea. He’d rescued people before, extracted hostages from bad situations. It hadn’t bothered him in the past to walk away without so much as a goodbye, so what was different this time?