Alien Interludes (33 page)

“I told you, I want to help.” The dogged expression was the same Krijero remembered so wel, the stubborn set of Pertak’s jaw teling him he’d not be able to talk him out of it.

“What the hel do you care?” Krijero jerked away and kept going. Wynhod and Gelan were puling ahead, and he put on a burst of speed.

“I care. I owe you for what I put you through.”

The Imdiko didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the fool. Of al times to try to make amends, Pertak had chosen the worst. “Go away, you idiot. We’re tracking a dangerous man, and my Dramok and Nobek are more than capable of recovering our Matara.”

There was no answer, but Krijero could hear the soft thuds of Pertak’s running feet continuing to folow.

Fine. Let him chase after them and possibly get himself kiled. Krijero had to concentrate on finding and saving Dani.

* * * *

Dani’s heavy lids fluttered open, and the world around her came slowly into focus though it insisted on performing funhouse tilts. She was lying on the ground among a stand of lavender-barked trees. The bare-earth soil that supported her smeled strangely like baby powder.

She blinked, trying to get her muddled mind to work. Where was she? That something bad had happened, she had no doubt. Her head pounded with agony, and the wooded area around her rocked, as if she’d gotten drunk.

The immediate area was silent, as if the very trees were holding their colective breath. Gelan loved to hunt, and Dani knew from accompanying her clan on such jaunts that when nature went quiet, danger lurked. Of course, she was used to being a part of that danger. But she’d apparently been unconscious and stil, no threat to the local fauna. Something else was nearby, something that might be something for her to fear. She remained motionless, her ears and eyes searching for whatever predator might be on the prowl.

The wisps and eddies of mind fog were at last beginning to thin. Dani had been shopping on Joshada. The gray-purple tree trunks and red leaves of the underbrush were evidence she was stil on the peaceable planet. She’d been in the woodworker’s shop, and Krijero’s former companion had spoken to her. She’d sent him packing. She’d left the shop, gone into the street …

Everything came back in a rush. Fruit pie, the rug, the scarred Nobek grabbing her, running with her. How she’d fought him tooth and nail, clawing and kicking and biting and pounding with a flurry of fists until he’d thrown her on the ground and swung a fist to clout her on the side of the head. Then darkness.

Dani didn’t have to look around to know her attacker was right there with her. The silence of the woods around her told her that.

Animal instinct took over, and Dani jumped to her feet, preparing to run like hel. Unfortunately, al was not right with her head. The motion turned the pounding agony in her skul to a blinding scream, and her funhouse view swirled the trees around her. Her long legs tangled together, tossing her back onto the blessedly soft ground.

The heavy thud of footsteps coming towards her was unimportant as her stomach emptied itself of the pie she’d eaten before her world had gone to hel. Her eyes streamed in sympathy with her straining guts.

No sooner had she finished vomiting when a cruel hand grabbed her by the back of her neck and jerked her into the air. Her world was a sickening kaleidoscope of lavender trees, brown soil, yelowish-green sky, and scarred Kalquorian. She heaved anew as the brute tossed her across the smal clearing.

Her sickened stomach became the least of Dani’s worries as she hit a tree trunk. Her already shrieking head quadrupled its complaint, and she dropped to the ground in an untidy heap. She curled into a fetal position.

I’m going to die
, she thought. It was not an unwelcome notion, not in this twisting, turning hel of torture and with the monstrous Nobek stalking towards her.

“You have good sleep?” he sneered. He reached for her.

Dani cringed, but not because she was afraid he’d hurt her more. It wasn’t the cold deadly look in his eyes either, even though they promised murder. She cringed because she could no more not fight than not have a heartbeat and keep living. And fighting was going to hurt worse than just letting this scarred beast tear her apart.

She waited until his fingertips touched the colar of her dress. Then her feet drove at him, powered by long, long legs and al the strength she could muster.

For once Dani blessed her big, clumsy feet that had been an embarrassment her entire life. They caught her abductor square in the delicate bits.

He screamed, a high piercing sound surprisingly feminine for a hulking Kalquorian. He folded in half and sat down hard on his ass. The stream of words that fel from his lips was in his native language.

Though Dani’s grasp of Kalquorian was tenuous at best, she recognized cursing when she heard it.

“Good, you fucking asshole,” she groaned, trying to get to her feet and run. “I hope both of them fal off.” She managed to stand, but her lanky legs refused to navigate straight and true, not when the world continued to pitch and yaw crazily. She walked straight into a tree and went to her knees. Her head pounded fit to burst open.

A brutal growl sounded behind her, letting Dani know the scarred Nobek was recovering fast and would be on her in seconds.

The tatters of her shrieking brain served up the bizarre thought of,
when the going gets tough, the tough start screaming
. As her attacker’s hand closed over her ankle and dragged her back towards him, that’s just what Dani did.

“Gelan! Wynhod!”

* * * *

Dani’s desperate voice caling his name made Gelan’s body jerk with need to race to her rescue. Watching the snarling Hetra pul his helpless Matara towards himself with knife drawn was heartstopping.

They’d arrived in time to see Dani stagger into a tree. Hetra was too close to her for them to simply storm the smal clearing and stomp him to pieces. Not after the psych profile Krijero had given them.

Nodding to Wynhod, Gelan moved one direction while his Nobek went the other. He could only pray Hetra wouldn’t start cutting immediately. Keeping him from doing so would be up to Krijero.

He heard his Imdiko stomp into the clearing. Krijero’s natural awkwardness was a boon for once. It got Hetra’s attention right away.

“Stop right there, or I kil her now!”

Gelan paused to peer through the underbrush. Hetra held Dani close to himself, the knife poised just below her ribs and ready to thrust up into her heart. He could easily kil her before anyone got one step closer.

“Please release my Matara. She’s done you no harm.” Krijero’s voice was its most reasonable, the tone he used to calm suspects and witnesses alike when he was on a case.

Gelan’s Imdiko was very good at his job. But after reviewing Hetra’s profile, Krijero had assured his clanmates Hetra wouldn’t respond to psychological tools. No negotiation, no logic would sway this man. He was bent on revenge with a singlemindedness that could only result in someone’s death.

Gelan continued to work his way around, trying to get close enough to Hetra to disarm him and save Dani. Hetra’s voice made him want to put his hands around the bastard’s throat and squeeze until no sound would ever come out again.

“Where is your Nobek, Imdiko? I want him here to watch this.”

Gelan watched with growing horror as Hetra moved towards the center of the clearing, away from where the Dramok could spring at him and get Dani out of harm’s way. Even worse, his poor Matara’s eyes were roling over white, letting him know she was in danger of losing consciousness. Stronger than most Earthers he’d seen, she was stil in no position to defend herself.

“My Nobek is back in the vilage. I chased after you by myself. Please Nobek, I can see she’s badly injured. Let me help her.” Krijero wasn’t faking the rising concern in his tone.

“She’l be even worse if you don’t get that bastard to come out. Wynhod! Come here now or I carve her heart out of her chest!”

“Wynhod is not my Nobek,” came the cool voice of Pertak.

Gelan froze. What the hel was that stupid waste of Kalquorian skin doing?

“Who the fuck are you?” came Hetra’s shocked voice.

Gelan was as close to the scarred felon as he could get without coming out of cover. He peered through dense reddish-pink foliage to view the tableau.

Hetra’s back was to him, but the escapee was looking al over the place, presumably watching for attack. Dani swung limply in his grip. In front of them, separated by about ten yards was Krijero. The Imdiko stared in shock at the massive Pertak, who stood by his side.

“I am the Dramok of this clan,” Pertak snarled. “That is my Matara you’ve stolen. Return her to me.”

“You are not her Dramok. What kind of fool do you take me for?” Hetra’s enraged scream cut through the air.

He was getting more agitated, sure danger for Dani. But he was also distracted by the unexpected appearance of Pertak. Gelan tensed, readying himself to attack.

“Of course I’m her Dramok, as wel as this Imdiko’s. Are you teling me I don’t know my own clan?” Pertak was shouting, his face red, as infuriated as any man whose Matara had been attacked. “You wait until my Nobek hears of this! He’l rip your head from your shoulders!”

“You lie! I’ve been watching Wynhod’s clan for weeks now! I know you are not her Dramok!”

Krijero gave him a confused look, now playing along with Pertak. “Who is this Wynhod you speak of? I have never heard of the man.” Hetra stared at the Imdiko. “I – I have seen you with him. Living together in the Tesru Mountain complex. And this woman along with another Dramok, a man named Gelan.” Krijero shook his head. “Pertak is my Dramok. You have us confused with another clan, Nobek.”

The arm wrapped around Dani, holding the knife to her body, sagged a little as the escapee wavered with uncertainty. Gelan tensed, readying himself.

“That is not possible. She said her Nobek was Wynhod.”

Pertak growled at him. “You idiot, you misunderstood her. Our Nobek is Wiklon. Now get your filthy hands off my Matara before I kil you.” Hetra wavered a little more. It was probably the best opportunity they would get. Gelan flew at him.

At the same time, Wynhod came from the opposite side of the clearing, his movement almost too fast to folow. He hit Hetra at the same time Gelan got hold of Dani, wrenching his Matara from the murderer’s grasp.

“Dani!” Krijero screamed, and he nearly knocked Gelan over in his haste to reach their beloved.

Gelan was dimly aware of Wynhod and Hetra roling around on the ground, trying desperately hard to kil each other. Blades flashed in the dappled sunlight winking through the trees. He would have gone to help his Nobek immediately, not because Wynhod needed or would welcome the aid, but because he wanted to help shred his Matara’s abductor to pieces. The sight of spreading red on Dani’s bodice and the boneless way she lay in his arms stopped him.

“The
gurluck
stabbed her!” Krijero cried.

“Dani! Dani!” Gelan roared, trying desperately to wake the unconscious woman.

“She’s alive, Dramok,” Pertak said, his deep rumble snapping Gelan out of the panic that had suddenly descended. “Let her go. Krijero and I wil take her to the vilage doctor while you take care of the bastard who hurt her.”

Gelan shook off the rage and despair clanging in his skul. It was true, Dani’s chest rose and fel with steady breath yet, but she needed help now. He thrust her into his Imdiko’s arms. “Go, Krijero. We wil folow you soon. Be fast.”

Krijero was on his feet in an instant and disappeared in a flash of blurred color. Pertak folowed right behind him.

Gelan turned his attention to the fighting Nobeks. Blood sprayed in arcs as Hetra fought with decades of pent-up lust for revenge and Wynhod battled back in rage for his attacked mate.

Gelan’s fangs descended, and he launched himself at the pair. The vision of Dani’s stil form and the pool of blood spreading from her chest took every civilized thought from his head.

* * * *

Krijero paced back and forth outside the vilage doctor’s home as he waited for word on Dani. The bronze-furred medic by the name of Szrlishk had assured him that the stab wound his mate had suffered wasn’t lethal. Gelan and Wynhod’s attack on Hetra had been swift and sure, and though the cut had bled profusely, Dani’s life had never been in danger from it.

The head injury was another matter. The concussion was massive, and pressure was building quickly on her brain. Part of her skul had to be removed to save her life. Szrlishk had sent a cal to the next vilage, bringing in a surgeon to help him.

Al Krijero could do was wait and worry. He was alone without Gelan and Wynhod, who had not returned to the vilage yet. No doubt they were dismembering Hetra in fury-fueled madness out there in the woods. Typical for a battle-enraged Nobek. As for Gelan … Krijero and Wynhod had discussed the possibility their clanmate had been misclassified. His leadership skils were not to be dismissed, but he was terribly bloodthirsty for a Dramok.

“She wil be saved,” Pertak said quietly.

Krijero snarled at his former companion, his almost-Dramok. Not quite alone after al, though it might be better to be so. Pertak only looked back, his expression placid.

“She wil be saved,” he repeated. “You wil not lose her, Krijero.”

Krijero wanted to fly at him. Years of hurt and anger weled up in his gut, fed by his terror over Dani. That Pertak had helped them recover their beloved was al that kept Krijero from attacking. “Why are you torturing me with your presence? I don’t want you here!”

“I know. I’m dying, Krijero.”

The Imdiko halted his anxious pacing and stared at Pertak. “What?”

The Dramok nodded slowly. “Oucxin’s Disease. I have three months. Maybe four.”

Stunned, Krijero could only gape. Oucxin’s Disease was curable if caught in the early to mid stages, when it progressed slowly. Prematurely aging the organs of its victim, the symptoms were almost nonexistent until it got to the point where it was too late.