Forbidden Worlds - Box Set (7 page)

“It can’t be cured?” Lea asked. She didn’t care if Damon shoved her in the storage compartment again. She needed to understand this.

“It’s against our beliefs to try.”

Lea moved out of his reach. “But you keep letting people land here, knowing what will happen to them?”

“It is not our place to stop them. Many feel those who undergo the evolution are blessed.”

“How can you call what happens out there an evolution? People turn into animals. You ban them for your society and allow them to run wild, killing each other—”

The healer addressed his comments to Damon, though Lea refused to lower her eyes and glared at him while he spoke. “Ambrax feeds on the souls of those who land here. We have taken steps to prevent too many from being lost, allowing our world to be designated forbidden among the galactic community, even though that leaves our society terribly isolated.

“Our science has yet to explain it fully, but those who convert provide a form of energy that contributes to the ecology. It’s our belief that over time, they become one with that energy, thus evolving into a higher form despite appearances to the contrary.”

“I apologize for Lea, she’s—”

Mojar raised a hand. “No need. I have no illusions that your society on Spartha mirrors ours. Nevertheless, you are fortunate her outbursts were not public.”

Lea closed her eyes. It seemed hopeless to think she could rescue Troy now. She couldn’t bring a beast back to Darya. She would have given up then, except her heart went out to Alor, taken from her sheltered world to God knew what kind of torture in the lawless jungle.

“We have other places to search before dark. We should go now,” Mojar said.

Damon agreed and turned to Lea. “If you’re done asking questions, you should lie down and get some rest. It’s going to be a long evening.”

She obeyed though she had no intention of sleeping. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of images that she would never be able to erase.

* * * *

Mojar had them follow two more bands of converts, dozens of individuals who seemed to be moving in parallel lines through the jungle along the meandering path of a deep gully. Their movements had purpose, which left Damon confused. The creatures he’d seen in the jungle before seemed only slightly more evolved than early primates. The tribes they followed now moved like pilgrims, slow and plodding along the jungle floor as if they were participating in some type of ritual journey.

“Where are they going?” he asked over the healer’s shoulder.

“Nowhere. We believe they retain some memories of having lived in ordered societies. They form groups and mimic some types of structured behavior, but it never lasts for long,” Mojar explained as he directed Edmun to a landing site at the wide mouth of the gully.

Whoops of fear and perhaps anger greeted their landing, and a dozen converts rushed from the deep cover of the foliage when the transport set down. These were braver than the first group, newer and more aggressive, apparently. Some threw stones and sticks, but the ones that merely stared while the ship intruded on their world drew Damon’s wary attention and held it. When he exited the transport on Mojar’s heels, flanked by Edmun, he kept those individuals in his line of sight.

He didn’t like the fact that Tak remained inside with Lea, but at least this time she hadn’t insisted on coming out.

“These two are armed.” Damon kept his tone even and conversational, tilting his head toward two males who stood erect only a few meters from the transport. Unlike the male they’d seen earlier, these still wore scraps of clothing and each carried a club that appeared to have been fashioned from a mammalian leg bone.

“I’ll work quickly,” Mojar’s response was tinged with worry, but he continued scanning the converts as they gathered in greater numbers to ogle the visitors.

These creatures moved slowly, warily, and there was no mistaking the spark of intelligence in their eyes. They remembered—perhaps not much, but enough to bring them dangerously close to the transport and its occupants.

“Hurry up, Mojar. The leaders are restless. They don’t like us here.”

Edmun backed up a bit, flanking Damon and drawing his own shock-stick. “Healer Mojar, they’re massing in the gully. I think they’re planning an attack.”

“I’ve got an eighty-five percent match to Troy, in that direction.” Mojar pointed toward the eastern slope of the gully. He’s in the tree. No sign of Alor.”

“How are we supposed to get to him?” Damon asked. He could just make out a silhouette where Mojar pointed. A leg, still clad in black flight pants, dangled from a thick branch.

Mojar nodded toward Damon. “He’s your kin. Speak to him. He may recognize your voice.”

Fuck. What was Damon supposed to do now? Troy didn’t know him. At this point, so close to gaining his revenge, would Mojar really take him to task for having lied?

“Lea!” His sharp yell brought a phalanx of converts closer, and beside Damon, Edmun began to shake. Some guard. The man had no balls.

“Lea!”

“I’m here.” Her soft voice seemed to fill the dark glade and a dozen pairs of feral eyes turned to her.

“Tree.” Damon pointed. “Say hello to Troy for me.”

Mojar stared, and Lea licked her lips. “Troy? Can you hear me? It’s Lea.”

The nearest convert flinched, preparing for battle. Damon raised his shock-stick, brandishing it in the same manner as the beastly thing held its bone club. A tense silence settled over the jungle, and in the tree, the creature clinging there began to stir.

Lea stepped closer, and Damon moved to her side.

“Troy? I’ve come to help you. Darya needs you. It’s time to come home.”

A stark face appeared in the foliage, dominated by intelligent green eyes. Dirt smeared the man’s features, and wild hair hung down to his naked shoulders. Patches of brown pelt covered his chest, but he still wore regulation miner’s boots.

“Come down.” Lea held out her hand. “Come home to Darya.”

Mojar took aim with his scanner and nodded. “It’s him. Where is Alor?” she whispered as the creature approached her.

“The others are moving closer. They’re getting used to us.” Edmun retreated a few more steps up the ramp. “I’m going to prep the engine.”

“No noise,” Mojar warned in a sharp whisper. “Not until we have him.” Holstered on his hip, the healer wore a tranquilizer pistol. He reached for it now with the patient skill of a gunfighter.

“Put him down before he touches Lea,” Damon warned, but she was already advancing toward the creature as he lowered himself from the tree branch. Strangely, the other nearby converts backed away, as if making room for the reunion. They watched in silent fascination as Lea held out her hand to Troy.

“It’s time to help Darya and Alor. Where is Alor?”

Troy’s gaze flicked to the jungle. He knew where Mojar’s woman was, but he couldn’t say. He’d lost the ability to speak.

Mojar aimed the tranq gun and stepped back. If he fired now, he’d probably cause a panic, but Damon didn’t dare turn around to stop him. “Mojar, hold your—”

The last thing Damon heard was the rapid fire—phut, phut, phut—of three shots from the tranq gun. Troy went down, and so did Lea. Numbness trailed down Damon’s arm from a point of sharp pain in the back of his neck.

Dazed, dropped the shock-stick and sank to his knees in the spongy moss.

After that, there was only blackness.

Chapter 5

Damon woke with the taste of moss on his lips and the gamey scent of a convert in his nostrils. Troy’s upper body lay beneath him. They’d toppled together after Mojar hit them both with tranq darts. Disgusted, he rolled to one side and pushed himself up with one arm. All of this body parts seemed to be intact and working, though every limb felt sluggish and heavy as lead. It took him several tries to coordinate the necessary movements to pull the small projectile from the aching flesh beneath his shoulder blade.

Damn the Braxan. Damon would enjoy killing him.

At least they’d left his daggers and the shock-stick, but his blast rifle was gone from the holster slung across his back.

Lea lay a few feet away, a dart protruding from her thigh.

With deliberate effort, Damon forced his body to move toward her. Her lips were colorless and her breathing terribly shallow, but she moaned when he placed two fingers over her carotid pulse. Something in his chest clenched in relief that the massive dose of tranquilizer hadn’t killed her.

She winced when he yanked the dart from her skin, and her eyes fluttered as if she were fighting to return to consciousness. Damon resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. Instead he drew the shorter of his two blades and turned toward Troy.

Months of living in the jungle had taken an obvious toll on the man. Beneath his patchy beard, his cheeks were gaunt, and his eyes were sunken. The elongated fingernails that Damon had seen as claws were jagged and caked with dirt. His breathing was quick, shallow and spoke of physical hardships. He slept like an animal that was unused to peaceful rest.

And he’d probably wake like one as well. Quickly and without emotion, Damon cut away the tattered legs of Troy’s flight pants beneath each knee and tore the dirt-encrusted fabric into strips. When the convert woke, he’d find himself securely bound.

By the time Damon finished his task, Lea had begun to stir. He sheathed his dagger and turned to her, careful to keep his expression neutral.

“What happened?” She croaked the words through dry lips, and Damon wondered if they dared look for water. Consuming anything native to Ambrax would only hasten their own transformation, but they needed to keep hydrated, or they wouldn’t live long enough for him to take his revenge on Mojar.

“Mojar dumped us out here. I’m guessing the only reason he didn’t just kill us is because he expected the converts would take care of that for him.”

Lea blinked as if trying to get her eyes to work properly. “Why didn’t they?”

“I think the transport engines scared them off, but they’ll probably be back if things stay quiet for a while. We’re going to need to move.”

After a moment, Lea sat up. She rubbed at the small dart wound on her thigh, grimacing. Then her gaze fell on Troy. “My God, he looks awful.”

Damon resisted the urge to reach out and help her up. He kept his voice neutral to hide his relief that she seemed to be all right. “You said he used to be a bailer technician—”

“Yeah, until my father fired him for inappropriate conduct with my sister.”

“Well, based on that, his survival skills probably consist of keeping the fuel flow regulated and getting to the chow line on time. A few more months out here and he’d probably starve to death. Do you think you can walk?”

Lea eyed him skeptically. She managed a curt nod and hauled herself to her feet with a groan.

Damon took a deep breath and lifted Troy. Mostly unwashed skin and bones, he didn’t weigh much, but the tranquilizer still coursing through Damon’s system made the task of carrying the other man that much more difficult. He didn’t spare Lea another glance, just set his sights in what he hoped was the right direction and started walking. “Try to keep up. I want to get us as close to the protected zone as possible before nightfall.”

* * * *

It took more than an hour for Troy to fully recover from the effects of Mojar’s tranq gun, and when he did, he fought like a wild cat to free himself.

Lea raced up to where Damon stood, reaching him just as he dropped Troy onto a spongy patch of moss. She couldn’t believe the difference in her sister’s husband. Troy’s once handsome face twisted in rage. He screeched and rolled on the soft ground, biting and tearing at the strips of cloth Damon had used to bind him.

She reached for him, certain she could soothe him with a touch or a word, but Damon grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Don’t get too close.”

“But he’ll hurt himself. We have to calm him down.”

“You’re right. All this racket is going to attract other converts.” Damon knelt next to Troy’s writhing body, and before Lea realized it, he’d rendered their prisoner unconscious with a swift blow to the back of the head.

She gaped. “What did you do that for?”

Troy’s head lolled, and now Damon allowed her to crouch down beside him. She pushed matted hair away from his face and shuddered at the condition of his skin and the feverish feel of him.

Damon rose and stepped back. Lea felt his disapproving stare boring into her back, though she didn’t turn to look at him. “I can’t carry him if he’s struggling, and I doubt we could convince him to follow us on his own. He’s out until I can find a place to secure him for the night.”

Lea sighed. She hadn’t planned on spending a night in this terrible place. “Aren’t we getting close to the protected zone?”

“Not close enough. We flew about ten kilometers past the tree line before we landed the first time and probably another three at least after that.”

“Well never get out of here.” Lea allowed herself a glance at him now. He crossed his arms and widened his stance, if nothing else, asserting his dominance over their hopeless situation.

“You and I will get out of here, Cherry. I don’t know about him. If he becomes too much of a burden, I’m leaving him behind.”

Lea rose, sparing him a dubious sidelong glance. “Now that we’ve found him, I don’t know how I feel about leaving him behind. He needs help, and I can just—”

Damon pushed past her and dragged Troy’s limp body up from the jungle floor. “You’ll feel pretty damn good about it if there’s no other choice. Now, let’s get moving. I don’t like it, but we’re going to have to find some fresh water if we want to make it through the night.”

He started off, his long, determined strides carrying him out of earshot before Lea could manage to form a few choice curses. At least he hadn’t abandoned Troy yet, but she harbored no illusions that he wouldn’t, at some point, leave her brother-in-law behind without an ounce of regret.

After hours of walking, Lea thought her legs would simply fall off. Dusk had settled by the time Damon finally slowed his pace. He’d chosen a clearing bordered by half a dozen enormous trees. Their twisted root systems rose nearly a meter above ground, forming strong latticeworks. It was against one of these natural cages that he secured Troy, leaving him relatively safe from the elements.

“I don’t think we’ll find anything dry enough to use for kindling,” he told her while he paced around the perimeter of the clearing.

She perched on a moss-covered rise, near enough to Troy to monitor his shallow breathing. He’d begun to awaken again, but this time, either pain, exhaustion or the cold realization that Damon wouldn’t hesitate to knock him out again, kept him silent and still.

“How cold do you think it will get at night?” she asked. Sweat dripped from her. A cool breeze would have been welcome.

“Temperature isn’t the problem. A fire would keep the other converts at bay and hopefully scare off any predators. I don’t think there’s much in the way of big meat eaters in this region, but you never know.

Lea tried not to imagine what might constitute a “big meat eater” in the Braxan jungle. She hadn’t seen many animals during their trek, but weren’t the most dangerous creatures usually nocturnal?

“Here.” Damon interrupted Lea’s thoughts, thrusting a folded leaf into her hands. The makeshift cup held about an ounce of clear water. “It seems to drip from the upper leaves. A couple of these should be enough to hold you over for the night.”

The single swallow did little to slake her thirst, but at least it calmed the raw feeling in her throat. A dozen more wouldn’t have been nearly enough to fully satisfy her. When Damon showed her where to collect more, she toyed with the idea of drinking her fill of the slightly sweet-tasting liquid. Unfortunately, he seemed to be reading her mind and took her leaf cup away from her after only three more swallows.

“Not too much. Whatever sets off the transformation is in the water and the plants.”

At this point she didn’t care. Those few gulps had served to remind her not only of her thirst, but that she hadn’t eaten since Tak brought her the small container of protein cubes. She wondered if the plump, cup-shaped leaves they drank from might be edible. “What about Troy?” He needed a lot more than a few sips of water, but they had to start somewhere in their attempts to bring him back from the brink of death.

“I’ll get him some. Don’t get too close to him. If he should manage to get free, he’ll hurt you.”

Lea cast a glance across the clearing. Troy lay unmoving beneath the curving bower of twisted roots, but his eyes were open. He met her gaze, and she could have sworn there was recognition in his bloodshot eyes.

“How are we going to get him back to the skimmer?”

“We can’t carry him across the protected zone. Our only chance is to flag down a patrol ship.” Damon tipped a few more drops of dewy liquid into the leaf he’d taken from Lea.

“Do you really think a Braxan will help us? Mojar’s probably told everyone that we converted.”

“I wasn’t counting on help from the Braxans. Just the use of a ship.”

“You mean hijack one?” She met his bottomless gaze and despite the humidity, she shivered.

Damon rose with the teacup sized leaf balanced on his palm. “You have a better idea?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just strode across the clearing and with surprising gentleness, gave Troy a swallow of the tainted Braxan water.

* * * *

When darkness fell completely, it seemed to close in around them like a shroud.

Damon had tamped down an oval-shaped indentation in the moss at the base of the tree next to the one where he had secured Troy.

He’d given the convert more to drink than he’d allowed himself and Lea because the effects of dehydration were more deadly than those of the transformation. Forget a few months, the man would likely not survive another week in the jungle. His torn flight pants hung on his thin body, attesting to the fact that he’d probably cut a much more robust figure when he arrived on the forbidden world. The pelt that had begun to grow over his exposed skin was patchy and shedding heavily. The skin beneath the tawny fur was scratched raw in places and mottled with bruises and scabs.

At least now, he’d given up struggling against his bonds. He’d lain quietly for a while, but his eyes never left Lea as she moved around the edge of the clearing, searching the lowest branches in the underbrush.

“Come here and lie down,” Damon ordered after she’d made two full, fruitless circuits. With the shadows growing, he didn’t trust the jungle and he didn’t like Troy watching her movements so closely. He needed her near him where he could protect her and assert his dominance so the other male would understand this lone female belonged to him.

He shook off the primal thought and tried to challenge his fuzzy brain with something technical.

“I’m starving. There are some berries over here. Maybe if we show them to Troy, we can tell if they’re safe to eat.” Lea’s voice carried too loudly in the evening quiet. He didn’t want her attracting any attention.

“I said come here. You’ll eat tomorrow when we’re back on the skimmer.”

She turned that beguiling blue gaze on him. “If we don’t eat something, we’ll be too weak to do anything tomorrow. We have to at least try to—”

Damon rose from his comfortable position and stalked across the spongy ground. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back toward the indentation he’d made for their bed.

Troy’s glittering eyes followed them, and he let out a low, jealous moan.

“Let go!” Lea yanked her arm free of Damon’s grasp. “I said I’m hungry.”

“So am I, but I’d like to keep my brain working for another day if possible. Look at him.” He grasped her shoulders and whirled her around. “He’s been here for what, two months? That didn’t happen to him gradually. The transformation occurs overnight. It starts with rage, an itchy feeling in your gut like there’s something in there trying to get out. You feel like everything is closing in on you and you have to run. You’re ready to kill anything that gets in your way—in fact you’re eager to.”

He shook her a little but kept her body pointed at Troy who writhed and strained at his bonds. “You want to run until you drop, and you want to be naked and you want to fuck until your heart stops racing around in your chest like a bee in a jar. I saw the men from my crew succumb to it, dozens in a matter of days. I wanted to go with them, I wanted to run into the jungle, too, but I forced myself not to.” Now he let her go and paced away to keep from shaking her again.