Warrior's Valor (8 page)

Rae paled a few shades. “I hope so. And I fear her strength too.”

“You're afraid she will be tortured because she won't fold.” Kellen knew firsthand how ruthless M'Ekar was. If the people who had sprung him from captivity were as callous as he was, Dahlia Jacelon would be in deep trouble.

“We'll find her before that happens.” Rae squeezed Kellen's hand stealthily. “For now, they're too busy running from the SC forces to have time to interrogate her.”

“Then we have to keep pressuring them, pursuing them.”

Rae nodded, her eyes slate gray. “I won't ever stop.”

The four small shelters beyond the perimeter of the clearing were almost invisible, unless you knew where to look. Emeron nodded approvingly to herself as she inspected her unit's hard work. They had braided large
geshto
leaves into the sides and the sloping roofs, together with branches and vines from different trees.

Emeron glanced at Dwyn, who had been working as hard as any of her team, and knew it hadn't been easy for her to witness Mogghy and Oches returning with the saplings. Dwyn hadn't said a word about it, but handled the narrow logs with apparent reverence.

To Emeron's surprise, she wasn't as annoyed as she had expected to be. Instead, she had stood speechless for a moment when even Ensign Noor followed Dwyn's example as they tied the logs together into walls and roofs. Noor was otherwise the most blasé and arrogant of her team, and to watch the cocky young woman carry dead wood as if it were a living thing was miraculous.

Dwyn stood next to the shelter they would share. Removing her carrier, she set it gently inside, obviously mindful of her precious samples. Emeron thought her care was appropriate, since they were all out here risking their lives because of these samples and this woman.

“Time to contact headquarters, ma'am,” Ensign Oches reminded her, and she nodded after she checked her chronometer. To be able to use a secure line, they needed to communicate with headquarters only at a certain time every day, on a specific channel, unless it was a matter of life and death.

“Set it up at the other side of the clearing.”

Oches nodded and grabbed his carrier. He was responsible for the communication amplifier, a device required within the Disi-Disi forest since the Thousand Year Pact prohibited the installation of any amplifiers within the protected area.

“Emeron?” Dwyn suddenly appeared at her side. “When I looked for material to build the shelters with, I saw some signs of disturbed soil about a hundred meters due east of the clearing. Can I borrow Mogghy to help me gather more samples?”

She was pleased that Dwyn realized she shouldn't go alone. “Yes, but be quick about it. It'll be completely dark in an hour and we can't risk having any lights on. And if you notice anything remotely looking like a bot—”

“—we'll hide. And we'll take antisensor blankets. We had some spare ones left.”

“Good.” Emeron motioned to where Oches was waiting. “I have to place a call.”

“All right. See you later.” Dwyn hurried to her carrier.

Emeron walked over to Oches. “All set?”

“Yes, ma'am. Headquarters is online.”

Emeron donned the earpiece and Oches left her to carry out the briefing. She told Captain Zeger about the bot attack, and he was immediately concerned about Dwyn's status.

“She's fine, sir. Actually, she knows her way around weapons and managed to take out a few bots after they injured me.”

“You're telling me a civilian saved your ass, D'Artansis?” Zeger said incredulously. “You must be joking.”

“Negative, sir.” Emeron cringed at her commanding officer's reaction. “She's a good marksman. Some of those bots move quickly.”

“And you've decided to tough it out and trick whoever sent them?”

“Yes. I looked at the downed ones for markings, but any identification tags were scraped off. They were obviously not official law-enforcements bots.”

“What made you consider that possibility in the first place?” Zeger asked.

“Just trying to keep an open mind and figure out who has the most to gain by not letting Dwyn—Ms. Izontro—complete her investigation.”

“Good point. Let's change the time for our daily communications to noon.”

“Affirmative. Will call in tomorrow, sir. D'Artansis out.” Emeron closed the connection. Captain Zeger had apparently been stunned to hear about the attack. Both of them had expected this assignment to be uneventful, but they had been wrong.

She walked back to the shelters, handing the communicator to Oches, who was opening a self-heating food pouch. “Can I get you anything, ma'am? I know this is emergency rations, but with some
trestos
, you wouldn't think so.”

Emeron grimaced at the thought of pouring trestos, a hot, peppery spice that many Cormanians swore by, on the rations. She found the stuff vile. “No, thank you, Ensign. I'll settle for some dry-frozen soup.” She poured water into a small canister, then pressed a sensor on it, which heated the soup instantly. Taking a few sips, she sat down on a large rock next to the shelter she would share with Dwyn.

Thinking about Dwyn made her frown and check her chronometer again. She and Mogghy had left forty minutes earlier, and though Emeron had no real cause for concern, not yet, it would be completely dark in twenty minutes. They hadn't spent a night this far into the forest before, and Dwyn probably had no idea how utterly black it became beneath the massive trees. Not even the moonlight filtered through, which helped make this clearing safe. Mogghy would know, she thought. He'd been in the forest before.

When only minutes remained until complete darkness and she saw no sign of them, she stood, impatient and worried. “Where the hell are you?” She tapped her communicator and hoped the missing two would be close enough to pick up the signal without the help of amplifiers.

“D'Artansis to Mogghy. Respond.” Only faint static sounded from the communicator. “Mogghy, Dwyn. What's your status?” First, more silence, then a muted voice.

“Mogghy here. On our way, ma'am. ETA one minute.”

“You're cutting it close.” She wanted to yell at him to move faster, but he'd sounded unexpectedly out of breath. Were they running?

Suddenly she heard a bustling sound at the north end of the clearing. Two figures appeared, carrying something between them. Something heavy. The other team members joined her and they circled Mogghy and Dwyn.

“Look.” When Emeron reached them, Dwyn gasped and pointed at the item after she let go of her end. “Now
that's
proof even you can't deny, Emeron.”

“What is it?” The object was roughly 1.5 meters long and 0.4 meters in diameter.

“I think I know,” Mogghy said, and placed his end on the ground. “It's a drill bit.”

“What? This big, and this far into the forest?” Her jaw momentarily went slack. “A drill bit?”

“We better cover it up, ma'am,” Oches said, and ran toward the shelters. He returned with an antisensor blanket. “Here we go.” He spread it over the drill bit. “I suppose we can examine it more tomorrow.”

“Good thinking. We still have a lot to do tonight. We can discuss the importance and potential implications then.” She turned to Dwyn. “That was too close.”

“It was important,” Dwyn said. “I felt safe with Mogghy.”

“That isn't the point. Not even Mogghy can see in the dark.” She was annoyed and had just realized that soon they would share very cramped quarters. “The crew has erected a makeshift latrine behind the largest tree. Can you find your way, or do you need me to escort you?”

Dwyn drew a very audible breath. “I think I can find my way to the toilet.”

“Good. Don't wander off. Ours is the shelter in the center.”

“All right. See you there.”

It was so dark now that she could barely make out Dwyn's contours as she disappeared toward the latrine. In the meantime, Emeron made one more round among her crew. She needed to use the facility as well, and then she would climb into a bedroll next to Dwyn Izontro.

*

Dwyn ran a portable sanitizer over her upper body, fatigue making the small rod nearly slip in her hands. Kneeling on the bedroll, she wanted to eradicate the grime that had accumulated during the eventful day, and she tried to hurry, expecting Emeron to join her in the restricted shelter any minute. Stiff and aching, she put the rod down and pulled a retrospun linen shirt from her back-strap security carrier, shivering now in the cool night air.

A rustling sound behind her made her flinch and hold the shirt in front of her, suddenly shy, which was unusual for her. She had grown up on a spaceship inhabited by at least ten people at a time, all very casual about nakedness and what they considered natural. Only when she left for Iminestria to continue her studies had she found out the hard way that people in general weren't that open-minded.

Recalling how she'd walked through the dormitory with only a towel around her waist, and the stares and whispers that followed, still made her wince. The dormitory matron had even lectured her, the woman clearly appalled at Dwyn's “immoral display,” as she put it. Matron insisted that she make a public apology, since the university had strict rules of conduct and an even stricter dress code. She would rather not dwell on this complete humiliation, but it still affected her. She now held the shirt in front of her and kept her back to Emeron.

“Oh, sorry. You all right?” Emeron's husky voice seemed an octave lower as she crawled onto her bedroll. “Thanks for arranging stuff in here.” Emeron squinted at Dwyn. “You look tired. Long day, huh?”

“Yes.”
How the hell am I going to get the shirt on without embarrassing her?

“I'm pretty exhausted too,” Emeron admitted, and tugged at the fastening of her uniform. The jacket was buckled with heavy metal clasps and, to Dwyn's surprise, it lost all cohesion when the clasps were undone and literally fell off Emeron's broad shoulders. Underneath, she wore a black, form-fitted, retrospun linen shirt that emphasized her upper body. She was muscular, yet lean, with long arms, and carried herself with lethal grace.
Utterly sexy
. Dwyn groaned at her undisciplined thought process and fiddled with her shirt.

“You sure you're all right?” Emeron focused her glance. “What's that on your back?”

She leaned in to look and Dwyn inhaled her scent—musk, something fruity, and a deep indistinguishable fragrance that she couldn't identify. “I don't know,” she managed, and turned her head to try and see what Emeron was talking about.

“A large bruise. It even broke the skin. We need to take care of this, Dwyn.” Emeron crawled toward the opening. “Don't go to bed just yet. I'll be right back.”

Dwyn sighed.
Now what?
She pulled the shirt over her head, grimacing at the pain, and acknowledged for the first time that she must have injured herself when fighting the bots.

Emeron returned a moment later with a medical scanner and a derma fuser. “I borrowed these from Mogghy. He was already asleep. Oches and Noor have the first watch.” She sat down next to Dwyn. “Why did you put your shirt on? Now I can't see your entire bruise.”

“I was cold.” It wasn't a lie, exactly.

“All right. Here.” Emeron tugged at the thermo blanket and wrapped it around her. “I'll just pull the strap down like this.” She slid the strap down Dwyn's shoulder, which effectively locked Dwyn's left arm against her side.

Emeron ran the medical scanner over the bruise. “Thank the stars. You don't have any deep tissue damage or fracture. I didn't think so, but you're so tiny, we have to take extra care of you. Today was a rough day on all of us, and even harder on you.”

“Tiny?” Dwyn raised her voice and stared at Emeron. “I'm not tiny.”

“Depends on who you compare yourself with. In the present company, you're tiny. Miniscule.” Emeron seemed in an unusually good mood, teasing her like this, and Dwyn couldn't help but smile.

“What are you then? Humongous?”

“Exactly.” Emeron's voice gave away that she was smiling. “You'll feel a warm tingle now. Ready?”

“No problem. This is hardly my first bruise, or my first derma fuser.” Dwyn paused. “But it is my first ultra-modern derma-fuser experience.”

“What kind of injuries did you experience before?” Emeron's free hand on her waist steadied Dwyn, and the warm touch sent shivers throughout her belly. She shifted nervously and tried to remember if she'd ever reacted like this to anyone.

“Let me see,” Dwyn said slowly. “The last time I needed a derma fuser, and a bone knitter for that matter, I had fallen inside a volcano on Earth. I fractured three ribs, my left wrist, and had contusions on my head, back, and…well, bottom.”

“Oh, stars. What the hell were you doing there? I mean, by the volcano?”

“Protesting along with other nonprofit organizations.”