Alien, Mine (30 page)

“Very well, Private. Do it. Captain, maintain a parallel course with this craft. Lieutenant, return to the ship.”

“We’re going back to the
Vega
?” Sandrea queried.

“You need to recuperate before we land at this place.”

Astonishment swept through her and widened her eyes. “You want me to come with you?”

“Yes,” Eugen replied, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you will agree, I will need you to interpret for us.”

“Not all humans speak English, Eugen.”

“Perhaps not, but your presence should at least provide some assurance for them.”

Fair enough.
“About returning to the
Vega
.”

“Yes?”

She curled her fingers around his comm-pod hoping to mute it. “I’m not sure I want to go back there.”

“Captain Mfumger was placed in a very difficult situation, Sandrea. He had to obey Council orders, so don’t hold it against him. Besides, Councillor Darlnron was correct. My judgment was affected. I
did not want you to engage with the machine.” He sighed. “The Council’s decision to force another sentient being to its will is a betrayal of our principles as a race. As Councillor Hognan said, it is our disgrace. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mfumger is experiencing difficulties with his communication systems at the moment. You need not worry, you will be quite safe on the
Vega
.”

A muffled, “You got that damn-well right,” came from behind her.

A smile kicked up one corner of her mouth. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Rag’.”

“Come, you will be more comfortable in our cabin and Dexter appears as though he would be grateful for a meal.”

“What of the comet?”

“General Tomgani of the Home sector will have seen to that by now. No doubt a battleship will trail it from our system then destroy it.”

She sighed. “Well at least we got something out of the whole painful exercise. We know about this other compound now.”

Eugen lifted her in his arms and boosted her through the open hatch back into the shuttle. She smiled at Kendril then flopped into a seat. Eugen’s hands gripped the rim of the hatch, forearm muscles bunched, and he hauled himself effortlessly into the cabin.

Her heart beat an appreciative tattoo.

“Corporal, can you disguise our bio-signatures?”

“With your permission, General, I believe I can fool their sensors into thinking there are injured Bluthen aboard.”

“Excellent. Do it.”

“And Sergeant Kulluk is requesting an update on Sandrea’s condition.”

Sandrea closed her eyes and let her muscles relax. What seemed like a moment later, her lax body swayed and moved to warm, strong hands. She opened her eyes. “I can walk, Eugen.”

“And it is no effort for me to carry you,” he replied.

She was too tired to argue. Besides, there was nothing about her position that she disapproved of. She wound her arms around his neck, lowered her lids, snuggled her head into his shoulder, and let him get on with it. The tramp of Alpha’s coordinated steps followed their progress like a well-trained pack of Rottweilers. Eugen paused before their cabin door.

“Thank you, gentlemen, Corporal, that will be all.”

She reached out, tapped the entrance key and Eugen carried her over the threshold. He gently settled her on the gel mattress, then perched on its side.

“Comfortable?” he asked. “Would you like something? A drink?”

She leaned back into the pillows and smiled up at him. “I could do with a cup of green tea, but as we don’t run to that, the Angrigan equivalent will do.”

His fingertips traced a path across her cheek then down to run a caress across her lips. “You are so very brave, my love.”

Warmth at his praise spread through her.

“Only because you were there, and Dexter and Alpha. But mostly because I knew you were there for me.” An appealing thought hitched up one of her eyebrows. “I look forward to you showing me later how much that pleases you, dear heart.”

Eugen pressed a light kiss to her nose, then got up and busied himself at the food dispenser. A moment later he returned to her side.

“Your tea.”

She wriggled upright and accepted the drink. Eugen broke into a ration pack and parcelled out food to Dexter as she took a sip of hot liquid. Flavour flooded her taste buds.

“You know”—she lifted her mug—“I’m beginning to prefer this.”

Eugen smiled. “We’ll make an Angrigan out of you yet.”

“I doubt it. I like water too much.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “A human/Angrigan hybrid then.”

“I can live with that,” she murmured, then finished her brew and placed the mug on the bedside table and lay back. “I know you have work to do, but will you stay for a moment?”

Eugen took her hand and held it over his heart. “I will not stray from your side.”

Two days later and having left the
Vega
hiding behind a large asteroid awaiting the arrival of the other Alliance ships, they approached the planet unchallenged. Sandrea bid Graegen, Drengel, and Ragnon good hunting with a “tally-ho,” then followed Eugen from the shuttle docked with the Bluthen craft and into its interior.

“Sergeant Kulluk and Private Kiresel are maintaining close station in the second shuttle, General,” Kendril reported, slipping in behind her.

“Very well,” Eugen acknowledged and turned to Sandrea. “Ready?”

“Yep.” She snapped a pocketful of rations shut on her vest and pulled a strand of hair free that Dexter had snagged under one foot.

“We should not encounter much resistance. The two armed shuttles will engage the Bluthen forces and draw them from us.”

Dovzshak dropped through the hatch and secured it.

“Is that the only way out?” she asked.

“No,” Eugen replied. “The scans we took indicate the couch interface will disengage.”

Lieutenant Graegen’s disembodied voice relayed their separation from the vessel.

She waited. Her hands twitched. She wriggled her toes in her boots. A few minutes later, a change in the spacecraft’s harmonics indicated a switch from space-drive to atmospheric engines. Tension crept along her muscles. The craft slowed, moved on a smooth course, then rocked to a mild, jolting halt.

Eugen, Kendril, and Dovzshak shouldered their weapons. Suspense skittered through Sandrea’s belly. Dovzshak eased the fingers of his trigger hand out in a slow stretch and carefully readjusted the grip on his weapon. Sub-system machinery hummed through the silence. She flinched at the sudden hiss and click of clamps and connectors releasing. A heavy clunk resonated through the craft. Eugen and Dovzshak moved to flank the opening left by the slowly receding interface couch.

Kendril aimed her rifle at the hatch. Bluthen speech filtered in and Dexter’s frill snapped out. He hissed and backed his hindquarters into a tense coil on her shoulder. The exposed, lethal point of his tail hovered just by her cheek.

Offensive Bluthen odour stole into her nose. The whine of the receding couch shuddered into silence, then the sound of bodies clambering aboard echoed inward. Fear and anticipation contracted her muscles. She jumped as Dexter vaulted from her shoulder onto the surrounding equipment. She made a silent, futile grab for him. He scuttled across the walls toward the noise of approaching Bluthen and disappeared into the opening left by the interface. Shouts of alarm, rapid scrambling, then laser fire all took turns at kicking her heart.

Eugen and Dovzshak whipped their weapons around, sighted down the aperture and opened fire. Her head snapped up to the sharp whoosh of the hatch opening. For a split second she stared down the barrel of a rifle into the face of a Bluthen. Then his body tilted forward and he dropped, lifeless, to the floor. Her gaze sprang to Kendril.

“Thanks, Shrenk’.”

Continuous laser fire reverberated into the craft. She glanced behind her, but Eugen and Dovzshak had followed Dexter out of sight. She moved after them.

“Stay where you are, Sandrea,” Kendril ordered. “What’s your throwing arm like?”

What?

She turned. “I throw like a girl. Why?”

“Feel like lobbing a couple of grenades?”

She eyed the half dozen, three-inch canisters strapped to Kendril’s vest. “What about Eugen and Dov’?”

“They’re gas, not shrapnel.”

“So what’ll they do?”

“Repel.” Kendril paused. “They’re not standard issue.”

“Fancy that.”

“When we were on the
Vega
I did some research. Using the chemical from the laser cannon as a base line, I experimented with other substances. I think this will . . . irritate . . . Bluthen.”

An evil smile buzzed on her lips. “I can do irritate.” She pulled a grenade from its clasp.

“Press the red button to arm it. They’re on a five-second delay.”

Sandrea gazed up at the suddenly all-too-narrow opening of the hatchway. Far above, a panelled roof shadowed the interior.

“Will they irritate us?” she asked.

“No, but I don’t have many so don’t waste your throw.”

She practiced a couple of underarm swings.

“Sandrea?”

“Yes, Shrenk’?”

“Other way.”

Oh.

“Strong throw?”

“Ah-huh.”

She swung, channelling kinetic force down her arm, through her fingers, and into the grenade. It cut a strong, graceful arc up and out. Kendril slung her rifle across her back and leapt up. Grabbing the edges of the portal, she hauled herself up in one fluid show of strength, then crouched. She stretched out and a moment later the only thing visible of her were the soles of her boots.

Sandrea scurried to the opening Eugen and Dovzshak had disappeared down, stuck her head around the corner, and withdrew it rapidly. No sign of either of them. A wide smooth expanse of floor stretched away to an internal wall. A lot of laser fire slashed and whined through the air. Sharp pinging bounced from the hull and she guessed Kendril’s position had been marked and targeted.

She leaned her butt against the computer equipment and pressed her forehead into her fingertips.

So much for Plan A and little resistance. Or is this Eugen’s idea of little resistance?

Flickering light caught her eye and she turned to a panel on one of the consoles. A number of symbols winked and then flashed at a constant tempo.

Uh-oh.

After a few seconds, one of the characters disappeared.

“Oh, that
can’t
be good. Shrenk’!”

Kendril’s top half appeared upside down through the hatchway. Sandrea pointed toward the possible indication if imminent peril. Kendril’s eye-ridges rose ever so slightly then she spoke into her comm-pod.

“General, we have a problem.”

“I’m listening, Corporal.”

“It seems they’ve remotely activated a destruct sequence, Sir. I’d say we’ve got just over thirty-five seconds.”

In the four seconds of verbal silence that followed, Kendril dropped through the hatch and herded Sandrea behind her.

“Stay close,” she ordered.

“On my mark, Corporal.”

A rapid increase in laser fire blasted through the air.

“Now, Corporal!”

Kendril lunged toward the exit, Sandrea hard on her heels. The raging confusion of continuous small arms fire they plunged into seemed intent on fracturing reality. The sharp smell of burnt air coated every inhalation. Sandrea kept her head low and sprinted in Kendril’s wake. Eugen loomed suddenly behind her. She concentrated on following Kendril and did her best to focus on anything but the hounding bombardment of frenzied laser fire.

“Down!” Eugen bellowed.

She dove for the hanger floor. Eugen’s big body thumped over hers, his weight braced on his forearms. A grinding, rupturing roar pounded into her ears and the floor shook to violent tremors.

That was in front of them . . .

With the sound of the explosion ringing in her ears and the floor still vibrating beneath her, Sandrea barely registered Eugen grasping her shoulder and dragging her to her feet. Light glared into the dimness of the hanger through a jagged, smoking hole in the wall. After gaining her feet, Sandrea sprinted after Kendril through a hail of laser bolts, toward it.

They plunged into bright sunlight and her feet pounded on black tarmac. Legs pumping, she raced for the far side of the airfield, dodged around a large transport, then zigzagged passed a couple of smaller craft. A shuttle flying overhead provided covering fire.

Sandrea lengthened her stride and matched Kendril’s surprising speed toward a tree line. Eugen’s pounding footsteps assured her of his close presence. Sandrea flicked a quick glance over her shoulder. Dexter sat like a talisman on Dovzshak’s wide shoulder. They sprinted off the tarmac, flew over a stretch of cropped grass, and hurtled into woods, the grey/brown trunks a swiftly passing blur.

“Cover!” Eugen roared.

His arm laced around her midriff and heaved her close. They lurched sideways and down, landing in a patch of spongy vegetation. A strong, spicy scent perfumed the air. Eugen tucked her head into the protection of his shoulder, his big body wrapped around her.

The sound of a feeble explosion came as something of an anticlimax.