Heat (16 page)

How often had Kolya taken him, as a child, into the wild places of Jota to hone his tracking skills? Living rough beneath the open skies, learning to forage and hunt, training his body to act beyond the effects of discomfort or want…and at times, sitting at a fire beside his father, sharing the bond of family. They were the only times Tagen could remember feeling happy as a child, that his presence in Kolya Pahnee’s home was more than a continuation of name and legacy, and that he were truly wanted.

What had he done?

Tagen closed his eyes and let his thoughts still. The image that came to him in the darkness of his quiet mind was that of all the debris and devises that orbited Earth. He could no longer believe them merely the leavings of Jotan smugglers and slavers. The humans had put it all there themselves.

The humans had been to space.

Five hundred years ago, they had been primitives on the verge of chaotic collapse. Now they were poised to leave their world, perhaps even to encounter another. They had made two thousand years of progress in an impossibly brief blink of time.

As disturbing as he found this, Tagen recognized that it could prove useful to him. The humans might have a means of detecting or tracking incoming traffic. Their on-world security forces may even have ways of monitoring their civilization for non-human infiltration. Gods willing, they may even have E’Var in custody already. And when Tagen relieved them of the criminal, perhaps they’d give him a clean-burning, inexpensive propulsion fuel for trans-orbital transport vessels.

Tagen rubbed his eyes and then leaned into his hands and watched the bodies burn.

The reality of his job meant that he could never count on outside help from any source, and moreover, logic dictated that if the humans truly had a coordinated anti-invasion force, Uraktus E’Var and others like him could never have made their fortunes.

Tagen was adrift and it was a singularly ugly sensation. This was not the world he’d been led to expect, but neither was it the sort of world he had come from. The humans were not small, scattered populations of hut-builders. Neither did they have oceanic colonies or out-world reach stations. He could not afford to keep going blindly and he could hardly continue to rely on the information he’d studied on the way to Earth. What else had changed since the Far-Reachers had made their studies? Were the pellet projectile weapons the extent of the human’s war-craft? What were their on-world defenses? They had been to space before, but could they follow Tagen’s craft when he left? Would they find the Gate? Gods, would they come
through
it?!

He had no way of answering any of these questions.

Tagen opened his eyes and stirred up the coals so that he could see the contents of his pack. There, at the very bottom, forgotten until now, he found the dermisprayer. A mild sedative, the scientist had said. To make them compliant.

Against every part of his training, Tagen began to consider the merits of overt contact. This could not continue. E’Var may or may not be on Earth, but the odds of stumbling across him as Tagen wandered in the woods were slim. Instead, he had encountered three humans, all of them armed, and had killed them all. The weather showed no sign of changing and he had only so many suppressants left. He needed some way of covering greater distance, he needed access to the humans’ media devices, and he needed reliable supplies of food and water.

In short, he needed to find a human. He needed to talk to it, to win its trust somehow, and use it to help him find E’Var.

The bodies were now nearly consumed. Tagen broke the bones apart and began to smother the coals with dirt.

He had a reasonable understanding of N’Glish, and he’d listened to the language program all the way to Earth. He thought he’d, well, if not mastered it, at least become competent, but most of what he’d heard so far had been utterly incomprehensible. Perhaps if Tagen could subdue a human, he would have more time to listen and decipher the words. Even if he gained nothing else, gaining the ability to communicate made the attempt worthwhile.

The fire was dead and Tagen was decided. The search for E’Var or his wreckage would have to wait until Tagen had discovered a better way to search. He would rest now, and find a human at the next opportunity. He rose and went to look through the camp for supplies.

He located a bulky, water-tight case filled with ice water and floating metal cylinders. Tagen gazed down at them for a long time, deeply mistrustful of anything the humans felt they had to cool. Perhaps they were harmless. Perhaps they were weapons of some sort that became unstable when heated. But Tagen’s analyzer told him the water, at least, was reasonably pure. He drank his fill and left the cylinders alone.

In the back of the groundcar, Tagen found packages of what he suspected were edible provisions. Some had been opened, and the smells were rich, even appetizing. He tasted some of it, cautiously at first, but then decided there was no point in being only a little bit poisoned and ate until his body ordered him to stop.

The sun was rising through the trees when Tagen emerged from the groundcar, burning over his skin where he was uncovered. Tagen took another suppressant, his sixth. Earth’s season showed no signs of ending. He might actually have to use all eighteen suppressants. He wondered idly if there were any health risks associated with long-term use. To his knowledge, there had been no studies. Why should there be? Who would ever need to take suppressants so many days in succession? He could be rupturing his liver or rendering himself sterile before he finished his investigation.

Oh well.

Tagen crawled into the human’s shelter and lay down on the bedding. The enclosure smelled of wood-smoke, grease and sweat.

He had killed the humans who slept here.

Tagen closed his eyes.

*

Kane wakened slow and easy with the rise of Earth’s sun and the sound of human groundcars on the road outside. He felt no pressing urge to get up. He’d had an aquatic shower, just like any he’d ever had on-ship. He’d had good sex, snugged up fast and free of Heat in Raven’s human body. He’d had sleep in a soft bed in a cool room with warm blankets. It was, in short, the easiest night he’d spent since before the raid.

The thought of sleeping in the wayside hostel had made him uneasy when Raven first suggested it. He didn’t trust his companion of necessity, and her warning that things could get ‘tricky’ had only unnerved him further, but things had worked out just fine and he was damned comfortable. He was determined to stay in one of these human ‘motels’ as often as he could arrange it.

Another car passed outside, large enough to make the air scream as it rumbled by, reminding Kane that the day was here and it was time to make use of it. But for now, he was still content to wait until his winsome little human woke as well. He expected that to take some time. She had not slept easy.

Kane bared his teeth in a grin, showing soundless humor to the ceiling. His winsome little human, and yes, gods, how winsome! He’d gone to the shower with her for the same reason he slept with her under his enveloping arm—to know where she was and what she was doing. He hadn’t been above teasing her in the car, but he’d thought himself too tired for sexplay.

But she had washed him. Massaged him. Knelt so submissively under the cool fall of water and cleaned him. Her hair had been black with dampness, black and white and marvelous. He couldn’t help but touch her. And she, dutiful little beast that she was, couldn’t help but touch him.

He’d felt with surprise and great interest her shivering efforts to deny herself pleasure. He only wished he knew what it was he’d done to make her feel it. Kane, who under ordinary circumstances, couldn’t care less what a Heat vessel, human or otherwise, felt or didn’t feel, was profoundly intrigued by Raven’s cumming. Her tight little body had gripped on him like nothing he’d ever known, sealing all around him so that when he’d moved, there had been such an exquisite suction, it had been like having her mouth all over again. The thought was a stirring one even now. If that was typical human sex, it was no damn wonder old Urak had preferred his playthings to come with five fingers.

And Raven, her back pressed against his front, now murmured in her sleep as she felt the physical effects of Kane’s wandering thoughts. He propped his head up on his fist, looking down at her and toying with the tips of her hair. She’d accommodate him if he woke her up right now. She’d do it just to prove she felt nothing.

He could make her cum, he was confidant of that. If humans and Jotan were at all alike in how they took pleasure, he could make her cum. Kane didn’t lead the kind of life that led to many different women, but he’d had Tari’i for a teacher, and that fine female took no shit when it came to mating. Tari’i demanded stamina and self-control, and if she didn’t get it, a male was liable to find himself in the way of a few cracked bones on his way out her door.

But although the where might be similar, there was still the matter of how, and more specifically, of how hard. Jotan sexplay got a little rough and human flesh tore easy. Kane ran his hand lightly down the rippling field of that flesh, his eyes resting on her sleeping face, hunting for clues in every slight shift of her features for what she might be feeling as he touched her. She mumbled again and shifted, her hips pushing back at Kane’s stiffening cock. He bumped back agreeably, and she slipped one leg through both of his.

Perhaps it meant something that she twined with him in her sleep. Perhaps not. Uraktus had taken many female slaves, and documented mating with the same meticulousness with which he had documented everything else about them. Once again, it was a study Kane had predominantly ignored at the time. He remembered only one female’s mating clearly, and that only because Urak had taken her right there on the bridge.

It seemed to Kane that she’d done something to deserve it, had tried to cover up when Urak wanted to look at her or something. That was about all he remembered, apart from Tari’i rolling her eyes as the human first was pierced, and the shamed and shrill wails of the human, so alike to Raven’s of the night before. And of course, his father, fucking harder every time he had to order her to hush her noise, right up until the brittle snap and Urak’s disgusted, “Oh hell.”

This had happened before Urak perfected his human regenerators and antibodies. The broken pelvis led to hidden bleeding and that to sepsis. She’d died, but it wasn’t a total loss. Urak had eventually built three good serums from the notes he’d taken during the experience-serums still used by slavers today-and to Kane’s knowledge, Urak had never broken another human’s hip during sex. Not by accident, anyway.

That was the only female Kane recalled clearly, but there had been others. Kane could think of many nights, from boyhood on up, lying in his bed and listening with a drowsing ear as his father fucked in the next room. Listening as the human cries had changed over time from purely pain to purely pleasure and all the many-hued landscapes in-between. So it could be done.

Raven woke. He knew it by the way her breathing changed and then by the way she scooted forward on the bed, away from his rigid shaft. But her hand came back a moment later to rest on his thigh. Her waking instincts had recoiled her from him, but she couldn’t resist trying to please him.

Kane could feel himself wanting to smile. He hid it by leaning in and biting at her shoulder. A little too hard; he drew blood and paused to lick it away. When he raised his head again, she rolled onto her back and moved her hand from his thigh to his cock. She stroked him, fixing him with her grim little eyes, determined to feel nothing, to prove to herself that the previous night had never happened. The way her little claws had dug at his back…

Kane bent and sucked at the bloody bite on her shoulder, letting her hand harden him. She had begged him just to finish with her, begged him. He had the distinct feeling his fierce little Raven didn’t do a lot of that.

Kane sat up suddenly, kneeling with his thighs wide apart and the blankets thrown back. She moved silently to take him in that amazing ‘blowjob’ that humans could do. He closed his mind to it with effort, letting her coat him with slick saliva as elaborately as she pleased. Then he pulled her off him and pushed her back into the bedding.

She resisted briefly, her body tightening and her face turning on itself. Oh yes, she remembered.

He pulled her thighs around his hips and sank into her. It was easier every time. She was cinched tight and tilted deep, forced still and receptive to the quick, hard thrusts he sent against her as he felt out the confines of her body. He was tempted to let go, to lie atop her and take his privilege, to feel the strange delight of her human breasts on his chest and see her hair fanned out violet beneath him. But no. No, he’d done something to her last night, and he wanted to see if he could do it again.

Kane leaned back, keeping her hips tight to him, and both slowed and lengthened his strokes, nudging upwards along her full pubic bone. He could feel the unpleasant scratch of her low hair at his belly, but he could also feel her sudden tension. There was a place on Jotan females, one that could be found just where the upper slope of their selves softened, one that could be counted on for furious pleasure. Kane hunted for it in Raven now, his eyes closed, painstakingly seeking her one slow sliver at a time.

“Unngh!” Raven’s hand flew out and slapped at his chest, her face contorting with misery.

Found. Kane lay back further, only one hand holding her now while the other braced his weight. He drove at her with greater confidence and she came up off the bed a little more with every thrust.

‘Don’t feel,’ Kane thought, his throat working with the effort. ‘Don’t feel. You can hear—gods,
hear
that sucking, you’ve made her
pissing
wet!—but don’t feel. It’s over if you feel.’

She was making a sound, not the eye-water sobbing he’d expected, but an urgent, moaning, mating sound. It dug into Kane’s brain and fired through his body. Her slapping hand became a scratching one; the sensitive skin of his chest and belly seared at her touch and it was all he could do not to fall on her in frenzy.