Mindlink (14 page)

A whooshing sound disrupted the air around them. The ground
vibrated under her feet and Sam’s whole body stiffened.

“What?” she whispered, and terror of the nameless, faceless
thing that could pull a physical reaction from Sam licked through her. “What’s
making that sound?”

He backed her up so quickly she almost tripped. He sandwiched
her between his solid chest and the inclined wall of the pyramid behind them.
Hiding her completely from the danger.

“A Security barge.” He spoke so softly she had to strain to
hear him. He turned his head and said to the others, “Move out of the
thoroughfare. Now.”

Shuffling sounds told her they were doing as he commanded but
she had a hard time concentrating on anything except the pulse point throbbing
in her neck.

Aliens. She couldn’t go back there, to the white room with the
machines and terror. Absolute panic threatened to overwhelm her. She whimpered
and pressed her face into Sam’s chest.

His fingertips came to rest in the hollow behind her ear. A
light touch, nothing more, but it signaled safety and shelter. He wasn’t looking
at her despite the intimate press of his alien body against hers, but her blood
slowed and the sharp tang of fear in her nostrils lightened up a bit as he
settled her through the link. Sam wouldn’t let them take her.

He might be an alien, but he wasn’t like the others, bent on
some mysterious agenda, and determined to kill all humans. He wanted to help
her, not control her, and only used the link to calm her down. And it was
working.

He scanned the darkness beyond the pyramid concealing them. “A
patrol,” he said. “They will move to another area in a few moments.”

“Did they see us?”

He shook his head and bent closer. “Heed my warning next time.”
His lips grazed the top of her ear and shot sparks along the ridge. “You are
causing trouble.”

The admonishment bristled and the pressure of his chest against
hers grew suffocating. “Then why are you helping me if I’m so much trouble? You
can go. We’ll be fine on our own,” she lied and then wished she could take it
back.

He froze. Either she’d hurt his feelings, or he was thinking
about dumping them on the side of the road and taking off on his own.

He was too close and she couldn’t catch her breath. Gold flecks
in his irises glinted as he looked at her, skittering her pulse. Fear.
Adrenaline.
Nothing
else
, she told herself, and shoved back a dark
thrill unwinding deep in her core at the hard muscles and solid strength
covering her.

Images crashed through her head. A sheer cliff, with a shadowed
chasm below. It beckoned, drew her closer to the edge and enticed her to fall
into the black void. She shuddered and the image faded.

“It is my responsibility to help you,” he whispered. “I am the
reason you are here.”

“You mean because you rescued us?”

A barrage of his remorse hit her as he shook his head.

“The list was my idea.”

Chapter Eight

The alien world shrank, closing in on the area where
the two of them stood, body to body. All the saliva in her mouth dried up.

“What? How?” Ashley croaked, though the images of him tapping
requirements onto a screen were perfectly clear. She’d seen this memory before,
but couldn’t read Sam’s weird symbol language. Now the translation came through.
“You were just a prisoner.”

He responded by putting two fingers to her lips, which she
slapped off. “Shh,” he said. “The patrol is leaving.”

When the rushing sound subsided, she shoved at him. “Talk.”

Sam took a step backward, and she gulped air. Heat swept across
her cheeks and along her neck, draining into the places where their bodies had
touched. God, he
wasn’t
just like all the other
aliens. He was worse.

“I was the Director of Acquisitions. Our trips to Earth for
random Mora Tuwa subjects did not meet the king’s wishes. I developed a list of
required specialties and my team made contact with human rulers to request
volunteers. You are here because of that list.”

“But I wasn’t on the list!”

“I am aware of the flaw in my logic,” he said and raised his
eyebrows. “It is the reason the king sentenced me to recycling.”

A hot gush of anger and betrayal glazed her vision. She slapped
him hard across the face. “You lied to us. To
me
.
Repeatedly.”

Something flickered through his eyes as he lifted a palm to the
imprint of hers on his cheek. “Why did you strike me? I do not understand the
purpose.”

“It made me feel better.” It hadn’t. Nothing would.

In truth, she didn’t know how to express the roiling turmoil
inside. Her ally was actually the head honcho. “I saw you. In the pyramid where
we first landed, as your guys shuffled us off to have the octopus shoved up our
noses. You were watching from the second floor. I didn’t recognize you until
now.”

“Yes. I was in my office.”

She sank down on her heels, back against the wall and let her
head drop into her hands, too miserable to hold it up. She’d placed her trust,
her life and the lives of the others in the hands of the alien who’d tricked
them into coming here.

It was Hugh all over again—she’d gotten tangled up and lost
inside the script in her head. “I defended you. When the others were making fun
of your people and wanted to go off on their own. I believed you wanted to help
us. Help me. The whole time, you just had a guilty conscience.”

How
did
I
not
realize
? She got paid to act for crying out loud.
You’d
think
I
could
spot
a
con
.

He shook his head. “I performed my duty when I brought you
here, but under false pretenses. Therefore, it is my responsibility to ensure
you are returned to your home.”

Hope flared against reason, but she wasn’t about to be fooled
twice. Cautiously, she asked, “So that’s why you’re helping us? Because you want
to send us all home?”

“Yes.”

The truth of it flowed to her via the link and she exhaled. The
link complicated everything but sometimes, just made things plain easier. He
wasn’t lying. But how could she trust him? What else didn’t she know? That alone
put the metallic taste of anxiety in her mouth.

“Your buddies violated me. Us. Took my clothes and jammed this
thing in my head.” She jabbed a finger to her forehead, right between the eyes.
“We have rights, freedom, at home. You took that away with your Trojan Horse
list. How dare you?”

“You are not on Earth. Here you are nothing more than refuse.”
Sam glanced up as the others crowded either side of her, hanging on every word.
Sid’s hands were balled into fists, and Freddy had murder in his eye. Calmly, he
continued, “We have been taught from birth the Mora Tuwa are inferior. I now
realize this is a lie.”

“Pain you much to admit that?” Freddy sneered. “I’ve studied
human behavior for a long time and from what I’ve seen, you people are the
inferior ones. We don’t go around kidnapping innocent people and stealing their
minds.”

“You lack the technology,” Sam replied.

Natalie threw up a hand to stop Freddy from charging him, but
Sam didn’t even flinch, likely because he didn’t consider the human much of a
threat. Though Sam and Freddy were roughly the same size, Ashley would put money
on Sam every time. Freddy, who only had surface polish and slick talk going for
him, was no match for the tightly controlled alien. No match in any arena, not
just the physical one.

“We must not linger. The perimeter is still many kilometers
away,” Sam reminded them.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Sid growled. “You could be
leading us into a trap.”

Natalie cleared her throat. “Um, actually, that doesn’t make
any sense.” Nerves shoved her voice up into the squeaky range. “Why would he
have helped us escape only to lead us into a trap?”

“Something else still doesn’t add up here.” Ashley snapped her
fingers. “You had a uniform on in the cell. But when we met you in the hallway
on the way to the recycling chamber, you were naked, like the rest of us.”

Security orbs clicked in the silence, performing their
sleepless sweeps for disruption. Images crowded into her head, of the king, his
throne room and the court, along with betrayal and injustice. The Telhada had
lost Sam’s loyalty. He felt responsible for the humans being here, and believed
that made it his responsibility to send them home.

Home. She could still get home. Still have a shot at a brand
new Ashley V and actually get something useful out of this nightmare.

“Yes,” he said. “I am now the same as Mora Tuwa to the
Telhada.”

“You owe us one ticket off this rock.” Ashley uncrossed her
arms to tick off the points. “Also, a magic carpet and throw in an invisibility
cloak while you’re at it. I’d take a double espresso too, just because.”

Sam hauled her to her feet and dragged her with him as he
marched in the direction they’d been going before she staged the protest.
Stumbling, and trying not to put too much weight on her aching knee, she
scrambled to keep pace until she could pry his hands off her.

“I owe you nothing,” he said, his face like granite. “You did
not follow the specifications on the list. None of you did,” he called over his
shoulder to the others, who hadn’t moved from the shadows. “If you had, you
would not be here. You believe you are owed rights and freedoms but fail to see
your own error contributed to your predicament. Come now.”

He bit out a curt phrase to the boy, who fell in behind them as
Ashley struggled to stay upright.

“Slow down,” she hissed. “These shoes are too big.”

“We do not have the option of moving slowly.”

She jerked her arm from his bossy grip, but kept walking
alongside him. His thoughts were fuzzy and angry. He was mad at her, and she
hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, except for almost getting them caught by
Security, and kind of being a diva by slapping him. Being stubborn. And yelling
at him.

All that was forgivable compared to lying to them about—

A clear image of her embarking from the ship with her hair
swept up in a tidy bun appeared in her head.

Yeah, yeah, she got it. She’d lied about being a scientist, but
for a very good reason.

She glared at him until the image slid away. It was a stalemate
and neither of them could change the decisions they’d made that had landed them
here. Their only choice was to trust each other.

Everyone seemed either subdued or too tired to talk. Ashley’s
list of wants dwindled down to Band-Aids as the blisters began popping and
oozing inside her alien boots. Still, Sam forged ahead. She passed the time
rehearsing her Academy Award acceptance speech—because they were going to find a
way home, period—and then when fatigue muddled her ability to string thoughts
together she fantasized about a bubble bath and a martini.

“How much farther?” Natalie whispered as she caught up to
Ashley. She’d been walking with the boy in silence. Agony lined her face, aging
her. If Ashley met her for the first time now, she’d guess Natalie was in her
thirties for sure.

“How much farther?” she called as loud as she dared since
Natalie was clearly too afraid of their double-agent guide to ask. He didn’t
scare Ashley V in the slightest with his uncompromising expression and hard
voice.

Sam kept walking. “We have traveled approximately five
kilometers. We have many yet to go.”

Ashley looked at Dr. Glasses, who sighed in between huffs.
“Barely three miles, princess. You heard him. Many more still.”

Profuse amounts of sweat dribbled down the doctor’s blotchy
face and he appeared about to pass out, which they couldn’t afford. The floating
stretcher had been left behind under the canopy outside the jail.

“Sam. None of us are used to this type of physical drain. Look
at the boy. He can barely stand, let alone walk. We have to stop soon.”

He pivoted to face her. “I do not have any magic carpets.”

Frustration tightened his hands into fists. Then she realized
he’d transmitted the taut, grinding sense of frustration through the link. He
was so good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings hidden from everyone. Even
better than Ashley V.

But they couldn’t hide from each other. She knew what went on
inside him and therefore also knew she wasn’t helping. She could keep being a
brat and get them caught, or she could be part of the solution. It was her
battle to lose.

“If we’re going to make it to the city’s edge, we have to do
something different.” She turned up her palms up in a silent plea. “I’m open to
anything. We can’t walk anymore and your bad guys are going to catch us much
faster this way.”

She suppressed a little victory dance when his shoulders
slumped a smidge.

“We will ride the train.” Of course he couldn’t just let it go
at that. “It is a risk counter to my best judgment. We must wait until
third-meal to increase our chance of remaining undiscovered.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” She motioned to the others, who all
looked like they were about to collapse in a heap. “Where do we catch the
train?”

* * *

One’s
lungs did not expand
fully until all the humans selected a seat on the train and the door slid
shut.

The train left the station. They had the car to themselves but
no guarantee it would remain empty. Only Security and Service workers moved
about during meals, which limited the population of travelers. The faster they
arrived at the station closest to the perimeter, the easier he would
breathe.

He disliked introducing their new IDs into the system in such a
visible way, but The Redhead had merely voiced a concern he shared—they couldn’t
have continued much longer on foot. His muscles had yet to feel the strain, but
sitting still for an extended period of time was sure to stiffen them. Instead
of dwelling on the swirl of uncertainty, he sorted through his knowledge of the
perimeter fence, determined to unearth useful information about its
mechanics.

He had no idea how they would cross the boundary of Kir
Barsha.

His seatmate, the boy, Neeko, slumped into an exhausted slumber
the moment his head lay back against the seat. Yet, he’d not complained
once—unlike the humans. Why had he been sent to recycling? Nothing about him
seemed defective or objectionable and those were the only two reasons a child
would be sentenced thus.

Kir Barsha rushed by silently as the train sped toward the last
station in its spiderweb of destinations. He’d never been this far out of the
city. Buildings grew sparse and between them, security orbs rolled, trailing the
Telhada’s fingers along the pulse of their citizens.

The Redhead slumped in the opposing seat, her head turned to
focus on the passing landscape. He knew she didn’t notice the buildings outside
the window. Instead, she filtered through the images of the pylons he’d
projected and the uncertainty he communicated about how to cross the
perimeter.

Occasionally, she’d return an image, readily engaged in their
silent conversation, which suited him well. Something fundamental had changed.
She’d expressed displeasure and anxiety over the link thus far, but now seemed
more open to using it and indeed, more open to his guidance as a whole.

The openness also revealed more than either of them might have
liked. The dark fear she carried now extended to being afraid of him as
well.

Other random images—pictures from The Redhead’s memory—arrived
interspersed with the perimeter images, of bizarre scenes and other humans.
Bright colors, one in particular similar to the one she called red but not
exactly the same. He had no frame of reference for interpretation and wished to
ask her the name. Once he began questioning, though, he might never stop. Too
much knowledge lay just beyond his grasp.

Even without benefit of explanation, the link slowly and surely
taught him to catalog the emotions he’d always hidden because they were
different, foreign. Prohibited. Yet, The Redhead felt many of these things as
well, with no such obligation to hide it.

Ten minutes later, the train slid into the station, a Security
outpost. No other buildings existed this close to the perimeter. Buildings in
the quadrants were situated in the center of Kir Barsha, close to the ruling
class so citizens were ready to serve at a moment’s notice.

He roused the group of tired refugees and ensured they exited
the train, then led them to the perimeter. Two dark obelisks loomed past the
station, then another pair to both the right and left. Beyond the invisible
barrier lay the Badramun.

Even in the afternoon light, darkness saturated the forest—much
more darkness than he remembered from class lessons in his youth. Tree branches
twined together at the top of the canopy, forming an impenetrable ceiling.
Despite this, a riot of vines and undergrowth snarled the base of the giant tree
trunks. Heavy rain lashed the canopy, fighting through the vegetation to soak
the ground.