Starkissed (29 page)

Damnation!
J’Qhir swore silently in Terran Standard. Although cursing and its religious connotations meant nothing to him, or any Zi, Leith had explained the concept.

Although J’Qhir could not conceive an omnipotent being manipulating all of life, he thought if any gods existed, they now created an elaborate joke at his expense.

The Elders charged past the monk without giving him a second glance. J’Qhir looked longingly at the third door on the left, then opened the one he had been assigned, the second door on the right. The Elders marched in behind him.

J’Qhir let his bulk fall heavily onto the divan, a laserblast of pain shooting from knee to hip. He closed his eyes against the pacing of Elder M’bat`h, the nervousness of Elder S`huhfh, and the affected indifference of Elder P`hiìn.

“Warrior, how dare you disgrace the Bh’rin’gha?” M’bat`h growled.

“My knee painsss me,” he said…in Terran Standard.

His eyes slid open to gauge their reaction. M’bat`h scowled furiously, his crested brow raised to a point. S`huhfh’s eyes were as wide as they could get, his mouth a small circular shape. P`hiìn smirked, his talons tapping together.

P`hiìn, he decided, was the most dangerous after all.

“My knee hurts,” he repeated in Zi. He could not explain how most of his thoughts came to him in Terran Standard now. It was all he had spoken for the six weeks he had been on Paradise…except for the times he had murmured Zi words of longing into Leith’s ear after their lovemaking. His first reaction was to speak Terran Standard so that Leith would understand.

But Leith wasn’t here.

She was across the corridor, one room down. He had been within minutes of seeing her, holding her, if it was what she wanted. Kissing her
there
and
there
and
there
, if she would allow it.

“—have to uphold the dignity of Bh’rin’gha,” M’bat`h snapped.

“Yes, Elder,” he muttered although he had only a vague notion of what M’bat`h had said. “I know my duty. I know my obligations. I have been exposed to the position of the Warrior almost as long as you have been a Council Elder. My father taught me well.” He www.samhainpublishing.com

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broke off, having lost the impetus of the anger with which he had begun. He did not want to argue. He certainly did not intend to be chastised for a marginal transgression, at worst.

“Perhaps Warrior J’Qhir is not well enough—” S`huhfh began.

“If the Warrior suffers debilitated health then the Council is obligated to appoint someone in his place.” P`hiìn looked quite pleased at the prospect. “You have no issue, do you?”

“You know as well as anyone here that my lifemate died before bearing young, Elder,” J’Qhir snapped.

M’bat`h hissed and turned away from them.

J’Qhir regretted the sharpness of his tone. T`hirz had been M’bat`h’s daughter, and although she had died many years ago, he must still feel the loss. P`hiìn was well aware of this.

P`hiìn shrugged. “You have been repeatedly exposed to many new experiences on your off-world journeys. The temptation—”

“Enough!” J’Qhir cut off the accusation before it could be spoken. P`hiìn came too close to the truth and the possibility.
If
it were at all possible for Zi and human to procreate… No, their physiologies were similar, but much too different. Surely, Leith would have told him if it were so.

“I have done nothing to bring dishonor to me or my people.” In truth, he had not. He had found comfort and companionship with the only being on an entire planet. He’d had no logical reason to assume they would ever be rescued. How could he? Hancock had carefully engineered and executed his plans to ensure no one could find them. His plot had been flawed, but how could J’Qhir foresee those circumstances.
Always be prepared;
always expect the unexpected.
If he had adhered to this tenet, would he have done anything differently?

“My health is not debilitated, only my knee.” He continued brusquely, “Surgery and a short period of recovery will remedy it.”

“Of course, Warrior J’Qhir.” S`huhfh attempted to defuse the situation. “Let there be no more talk of appointing another Warrior. The one we have is quite capable of handling the position.”

J’Qhir bowed his head in gratitude at S`huhfh. If only he knew what Leith would answer, he would damn all three to Terran hell and walk away. If Leith wanted no more to do with him, then his status as Warrior, as empty as it had become, was all he had. He could not jeopardize it until he knew how Leith felt.

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Lanette

Curington

“He must also uphold our tradition of honor and dignity,” M’bat`h growled fiercely.

“Leaving in the middle of a conversation with a Lhaàwh Council member is not dignified.”

“Nor is writhing in pain, Elder,” J’Qhir pointed out. He decided he’d taken enough harassment from them all. If he could make them leave, he still had time to talk to Leith.

“I came in here to rest before the conference. Beg forgiveness, Council, but—”

A sharp tap at the door startled them all. J’Qhir hissed inwardly. Another delay.

Always something to keep him and Leith apart. According to her, some things were meant to be. She called it “fate”. Perhaps their fate was
not
to be together, other than little moments spent near one another, yet unable to connect.

M’bat`h scowled and nodded at S`huhfh who scurried to open the door. One of two Artilian guardsmen stood just outside, quite embarrassed.

“I do beg your pardon, but someone insists on speaking with one of you. He says it’s an emerg—”

“Warrior.” Drew Garrison brushed past the Artilian. “Leith has disappeared.”

J’Qhir lurched to his feet. “What?”

Garrison explained in a rush. “I left Leith in one of the other rooms. When we met in the hallway earlier, I was on my way to get her some water. I was approached with an urgent message to contact McClure Shipping. When I finally got through, no one there had sent a message at all. I hurried back to the room and…Leith’s gone. The guards say she never came back into the Great Hall.”

“Ssshe isss not here asss you can sssee.” P`hiìn had stood and now swept the room with his hand.

Garrison ignored him and looked at J’Qhir. “She wouldn’t have returned to the Hall.

She was tired of the media and wanted to rest before the conference. She wouldn’t have chanced going back in there.”

“Did you check the other roomsss?”

Garrison nodded in the direction of the guardsmen. “They wouldn’t let me. They didn’t want to let me in here, but I told them it would cause an interstellar incident if you weren’t informed.”

“Alert her ambasssador,” M’bat`h snapped. “Now, leave usss. Do not interrupt usss again.”

J’Qhir was already limping out of the room. “Which roomsss are occupied?”

“These are
privacy
rooms—” one of the Artilians began.

Pushing him aside, J’Qhir crossed to the door opposite and pounded on it with a heavy fist.

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“You can’t—”

“Garrissson. Sssee that the Artilian sssecurity isss informed. Now.”

“You got it.” Garrison solidly clamped his hand on the second Artilian’s shoulder and led him away.

The door slid open beneath J’Qhir’s fist, and a frail Danid peered out at him. He stepped into the room and saw it was otherwise empty.

The wide-eyed Danid shook his tentacles. “F-First th-the B-Biian, n-now th-the Z-Zi!”

“A Biian monk?” J’Qhir questioned.

“I-Is th-there a-any o-other k-kind?” the Danid sneered.

“What did the monk want?”

“S-Same a-as y-you. L-Looked a-around a-and l-left.”

J’Qhir whirled on the guard, but nearly collided with M’bat`h instead. The Elder blocked the doorway.

“Warrior, what are you doing?” M’bat`h snarled in Zi.

“My duty.”

“How is this your duty? Your responsibility is first and foremost to your people, not some inconsequential alien female.”

Inconsequential? Never. Alien? Leith had not been
alien
to him in a long time.

Female? Most definitely… J’Qhir suppressed a smile.

“This female is not alien to me.” In defiance he stepped past the Elder. “My duty is to protect and she is within the realm of my protection. My responsibility has not ended because we are on another world. This is what being the Warrior means to me.”

His fierce determination silenced M’bat`h.

“How many othersss?” he demanded of the guardsman.

“Two.” He pointed them out.

A group of Peridots crawled over one room. The other was empty.

“The Biian monk should be here,” the Artilian declared. “He didn’t leave past us.”

J’Qhir systematically searched the empty rooms. When finished, he faced the door at the opposite end of the corridor.

“Isss this a privacy room alssso?”

“No. It leads to storage rooms, the food preparation center, and the emergency stairwell. These areas are not open to the public.”

J’Qhir jerked open the door then felt a restraining hand on his arm. The pressure was so light, he thought for a moment Leith touched him.

“Warrior. I am Security Servitor Nura. Let my people do their job.”

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Lanette

Curington

“Nura. Msss McClure’sss friend.”

“Yes. You are Warrior J’Qhir.”

It was not a question, J’Qhir decided as Servitor Nura’s pale blue eyes delved into his. Her smile was friendly as if they knew one another. Leith must have told her about him. Had Leith confided in her completely? Perhaps, perhaps not. It did not matter.

“I’ve already closed off the Great Hall. The watchers will search for our friend.” Her voice lowered so only he could hear. “I know you are in pain, but there is nothing to be done right now.”

At first he thought she must have sensed the terrible ache in his chest. Then he realized she meant the throbbing of his injury. The intensity of his search had driven everything from his mind except his desire to find Leith safe. During his search, he had twisted his limb again and now he was aware of pain rolling in burning waves to his hip.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

Servitor Nura listened intently as the watcher relayed information in the liquid tones of Artilian. Nura fired off orders and the watcher disappeared.

“Please come with me, Warrior. Until the watchers have gathered information, there is nothing either of us can do.”

J’Qhir nodded his assent.

As Nura led him through the door, M’bat`h barged down the corridor. “Where are you going?”

J’Qhir refused to show disrespect by speaking Zi in front of one who did not know the language.

“I am going with Ssservitor Nura,” he said in Terran Standard. “I will return when Msss McClure hasss been found.”

He bowed stiffly and followed Nura through the door.

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J’Qhir propped his leg upon a stool and absently massaged his swollen knee. Nura, as she insisted he call her, left him in her chambers while she attended to matters. One matter, he noted as he watched the large viewer mounted on the wall, was explaining to the assembly in the Hall that the conference had been delayed indefinitely for reasons she could not divulge at this time. No one was allowed to leave or enter the building or grounds until further notice. He muted the sound.

The Biian monk. If not for the monk, everyone would think Leith had wandered off somewhere to be alone. Garrison had said the media reporters upset her. He had sensed her unease when their images had been recorded earlier.

At that time, she had called him Commander. He approved of the way she kept formality between them in the presence of others. It was the Zi way. He didn’t completely understand why she used Commander when she knew it was not his title.

Perhaps she had used it for so long prior to their use of birth names, that it slipped out before she thought. He could tell she was nervous and upset. He tried to be as supportive as he could, but there were too many others surrounding them, waiting to pounce—the Council as well as the reporters.

He should have spoken to her sooner, but he had never found an appropriate time.

Others were always near during their rescue and onboard the small ship. When they landed on Artilia, Leith and he had been taken to the medical facility immediately. He had refused treatment other than a mild medication to suppress pain. Leith remained behind, but he had been sent to a guesthouse.

Good food, a comfortable bed, and the medicine put him to sleep until Rohm’dh awakened him late the next day. The Council had arrived with orders for them to report to the ship at once. He would have ignored the command anyway, unwilling to leave without speaking to Leith, but his injury had worsened so that he could not walk without excruciating pain. Instead, he allowed them to transfer him to the medical facility.

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Lanette

Curington

When he declined surgery, the technician injected him with other medication and suggested he stay off his feet a few days if he wanted to be ambulatory for the conference. He readily complied because it would delay a meeting with the Council.

At his release, only a few hours before the conference, a technician had given him a syringe containing a powerful pain suppressant to be used if the pain became unbearable.

Injected directly into the knee, the drug would alleviate the pain for a standard hour, long enough for him to reach the medical facility. Although one thoughtless twist then another had aggravated the pain, it hadn’t intensified enough to use the syringe yet.

He watched images flash across the wall viewer. Somehow he and Leith had been thrust into the roles of heroes. How that came about, he did not know. He had never felt like a hero at any point in his life, now least of all. Once again he had failed Leith and could not atone for the failure. He had promised her that he would never perform the ritual of failure and he would keep that promise.