Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) (10 page)

“And you picked me to dream about?” His voice was teasing, but his brown eyes were intense, focused on her. “I’m flattered.”

Her breath caught. “You—you’re the most novel thing in my environment currently.”

“Novel?” He raised his eyebrows at her choice of words. “Not handsome, irresistible, clever, witty—aren’t you the least bit worried my feelings might get hurt?”

Bithia laughed along with him. “All of the above? And welcome company.”

“I thought I heard music,” he said, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the barrier. “From you?”

Her cheeks grew warm, and she realized with surprise she was blushing. “I was humming one of my favorite songs.”

“It was pretty.” He whistled, trying to replicate the tune and failing miserably.
 

Giggling, she held her hands over her ears. “Stop or it won’t be my favorite much longer. Here, listen.” She licked her lips and sang a few bars softly, keeping time by tapping her fingers on the cushion where she sat.

He clapped lightly. “Beautiful, like you.”

She blinked, and he detected a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Flatterer.”

“If the truth is flattery, then so be it. I’ll never lie to you.”

There was silence between them for a few moments.

“What’s the song about?” he asked. “I didn’t understand the words.”

“A man and a woman meeting for the first time in a lush garden, each knowing the other might be the answer their heart searches for.” She leaned her head against the wall, which of course existed only in her dream, and sang the song again, making herself translate the lyrics for him as she did so.

“It might be about us,” he said.

Startled, she glanced at him.
 

“We don’t have a garden, of course, since neither of us seems able to conjure one up. You keep us meeting here in this barren room, and I managed an ice planet.” Nate laughed. “At least I brought you a coat on that occasion.”

“And I was grateful, even if it was one a former girlfriend of yours owned.” Tilting her head, one eyebrow raised, she gave him an impish look.

“I tried to suppress the fact. She wasn’t my girlfriend, just a woman I dated while I was on the planet. We had fun, no deep connection. I barely remember her, but I always loved that coat.” He spread his hand on the barrier. “My attraction to her didn’t come close to what I feel about you. All I want is to be able to touch you—”

Bithia drew away. “Don’t. Please don’t say these things to me.”

“Why not? I mean them. I’ve never felt this attracted to any other woman, not once in my life. And I can’t get closer than ten feet to you, even in my fucking dreams.”

She closed her eyes.

“Tell me you don’t have the same desire.” His challenge was direct. “But remember that when we link like this, in your dream or mine, we both see into the soul of the other. I know you in a way I’ve never known any other person.”

“When I go to sleep,” she said, tears close to falling, “there’s no assurance that I’ll wake up again. And then if I do regain consciousness, I never know how much time has passed. I’ve already lost all the people I loved—my father, my friends—I can’t bear to lose you too. I can’t let myself care too much.”

“Denial won’t change the truth.”

She shook her head, refusing to comment.

“I’m not trying to distress you. Have faith in me. I’m not planning to die on this fucking planet, and I refuse to let you die here either. Maybe I can’t restore you to your own people or replace what you’ve lost, but I give you my word that you won’t lose me.”

“You can’t guarantee such things.” Now she did stare at him. “I wish you could.”

“Either I’m waking, or you’re going to sleep,” he said. “I’m having a hard time remaining in the dreamspace. Promise me you won’t give up. I want your word you’ll try to hang on to hope.”

She uncoiled and threw herself at the barrier, raising her hand to meet his, although the green light flared and she knew it was impossible to touch him or be touched. “I believe in you, Nate. Stay safe.”

For the next week, Nate’s main motivation to get through the day was to make it to the night, when he could hope to meet Bithia in the dreamspace. But night after night went by with no contact between them. His sleep was restless, disturbed by nightmares filled with blood and death. Each morning he awoke exhausted, disoriented and frustrated.

On the morning of the eighth day, Thom lectured him as the bouncing cart carried them to the practice facility. “Listen, you need to cool it with these dreams. Are you aware you’re barely present during the waking hours? I think she’s more real to you than the trouble we’re in. You’re not learning anything strategic, from what you’ve said, and we’ve got to concentrate on the here and now.”

“I didn’t realize I was allowing her to distract me so badly.”

“I know, and your attitude scares me. I’ve never seen you so detached, so uninterested in what’s going on. This is our only shot at any kind of a chance of surviving, and you’re going to blow it for all of us.” Thom leaned closer, as far as the chains allowed, and lowered his voice further. “Do whatever it takes to get through the damn nights, dream about your phantom lady, make love to her, for all I care, but shake it off while we’re out there on the ball court during the days, you hear me?”

“Right.” Nate shook his head, upset with himself as he realized his old friend was making an accurate statement. He walked through the days waiting and hoping to get to the hidden room in his dreams to see Bithia, to talk to her, to be with her.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but I think it’s gotten to the point where you’re jeopardizing the mission, all of us, with your obsession.” Thom’s words were apologetic, but his tone of voice was definitely not. He was genuinely concerned. “She’s like a drug to you.”

“You’re absolutely correct. Thanks.” Nate nodded in acknowledgment of the rebuke.
Get a grip.
Thom’s right. I’m not learning anything helpful from her, much as I enjoy our conversations. She’s a dangerous distraction.

“We’re dealing with life and death here,
our
lives, and Haranda’s and even Atletl’s, and you’ve clearly been prioritizing this alien woman’s problems over ours. I’m not too sure she isn’t deliberately influencing you to slack off—we don’t really know her, and we have no idea what her agenda might be.” Fists clenched, Thom wasn’t ready to let go of the subject. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, you’re my commanding officer and I’ll follow your lead, but I have to trust your judgment. It’s a two-way street with us, and what I see lately ain’t encouraging.”

Tamping down anger, Nate considered Thom’s suggestion about Bithia’s motives but dismissed his friend’s concern on that issue. He and she didn’t just talk, they met mind to mind, and he saw no deception in hers. But Thom was right that he’d allowed his growing attachment to Bithia to cloud his situational judgment. “You and I aren’t just captain and sergeant. We’re friends too, good enough friends for you to knock some sense into me when I need it, which I appreciate today,” he said to Thom. “I trust Bithia. She hasn’t asked me for anything or tried to influence me, but I’m in deep with her emotionally, and I’ve never tried to juggle a relationship and a mission before.”

“Either break it off with her for now, or learn to compartmentalize a hell of a lot better,” Thom said, jaw clenched. He took a deep breath. “At least remember we can’t help her if we don’t survive.”

“Message received.”

The morning passed with scrimmages against various teams. Behind by two goals, Nate’s team was playing hard to keep the other team from getting their last, fatal point, when the blare of seashell trumpets brought action all over the field to an abrupt halt.

“What the—” Nate had just gotten the ball, fed to him by a rapid underhanded pass from Atletl. Taking no chances, he threw it neatly through the lower five hole to score before pivoting to see what the trumpets were blaring alarms for.

“The big guy,” Thom said. “Coming this way. And the high priestess too. Watch yourselves.”

The guards and trainers created a human wall between Nate’s team and the other prisoners.

“Kneel to your betters, fools,” the head trainer screamed at them, uncurling his whip and cracking it suggestively. “Bow your heads to the supreme one. Show proper respect to the high priestess.”

Nate reluctantly knelt in the sand, followed a moment later by his three teammates. The king stood directly in front of him, placing his clenched fist under Nate’s chin, forcing him to meet the ruler’s gaze. “So you play sapiche now, more or less, eh?”

“We play,” Nate said.

“She claims you’re her father’s warriors.” Sarbordon’s tone was mocking. He studied Nate’s face for a moment, contempt plain in his eyes. “I can’t believe this—you resemble the slaves who clean the stables more than you do the best players in Nochen.” He laughed uproariously. Lolanta, her priestesses, the guards and trainers joined in the mirth.

Nate jerked his head free, rising from his knees. “What you believe doesn’t matter. I’m the captain of T’naritza’s guards, her father’s warrior. I’m no more but certainly no less. Meet me under equal conditions, and I’ll prove it.” He reached out, too fast for any of the watchers to stop him, and tapped the scabbard at the other man’s belt. “Or is your pretty knife only ceremonial?”

Murrax and another soldier grabbed Nate, shoving him back into the subservient position and keeping their hands on his shoulders.

The ruler stepped back a pace, shaken. He scowled. “We’ll see the truth of this vainglorious boast. In one passage of the moons, the day of the games arrives again. You play for your lives and her life. Of late, I think her powers wane, her advice falters. She is of the Old Ones, and their pantheon has proven weak time and again. Have not my people defeated their armies in battle? Do I not sit on the Scaled Throne?” The ruler’s voice had been rising with each statement. Now he paused and spoke directly to Nate. “I know the gods of my people desire me to feed her to their creatures of the well, to seal their rule over this nation and my place as their son, their equal. I’m the one born to fulfill the prophecies in all respects.” Clearly savoring this vision, obviously not a new one to him, the king paced. “Only the timing is at issue, the most propitious moment to take—”

Nate reined in his temper with an effort and said nothing. He didn’t like the mental pictures, particularly as they concerned Bithia, but at the moment there was no point in challenging the tyrant. Killing him, which Nate knew with certainty he could accomplish right now, wouldn’t win freedom for his men or Bithia. The assassination would get Nate killed on the spot and doom the others.

The ruler eyed him speculatively, and when Nate failed to offer any rebuttal, he mused further. “I had thought perhaps this year, at the Festival of Tekal, to offer her heart to my gods. But I can’t be sure. The omens speak with veiled direction.” He shot a sidewise glance at Lolanta, who bowed her head, hiding secret amusement, Nate was positive. Clearing his throat, the ruler continued, “Therefore, the matter shall be settled in the traditional manner, by the victory or defeat on the field of honor in the games.”

Since all eyes were now on Nate, the audience plainly waiting for him to respond, he launched into an uncomfortably flowery speech of his own. “The power of T’naritza doesn’t wane. Your omens are false, your priestesses liars. My goddess stands beside us in spirit, and we will win.” Nate injected confidence he didn’t actually possess into his taunt. His makeshift team had improved their sapiche skills markedly in the past months, but were nowhere near as good as men who had played all their lives.

“We’ll see.” Seeming pleased that he’d goaded Nate into responding, he said, “I’ve selected Kalgitr and his team as your opponents. You know he’s won nine games to date? The team currently most favored in the Huitlani’s eyes. The omens agree. A game between the two teams will be a worthy test of the gods’ powers—yours and mine.”

A low murmur went through the crowd of assembled guards, trainers and prisoners. Kalgitr and his team had ruthlessly maimed and killed in their quest to survive and win the required number of matches. Unquestionably the top sapiche team on the planet, they stood one game away from freedom. It was also rumored that Lolanta had sent for the team leader to be brought to her chambers on more than one occasion, which gave him an extra swagger on the court.

“It doesn’t matter who you send. We’ll have the victory.” Concealing his dismay at the odds, Nate maintained a nonchalant tone.

“As the gods will it.” Sarbordon shrugged. “I doubt you’ll be so calm when facing the great Kalgitr.” Struck by an impulse, he wheeled to beckon the head trainer. “A scrimmage! I desire a scrimmage today between Kalgitr and these scum. Play to one point only. I don’t want my team overly worked, though not much exertion will be required to score over these pitiful slaves. Arrange it immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.” The trainer bowed low before shouting orders as the royal couple and their entourage walked toward the exhibition court.

“What in the seven hells are you doing? What are you telling him? When did we enlist to serve a goddess?” Thom was incredulous. Atletl and Haranda gathered in close to hear. “Aren’t we getting in deep here?”

Nate shook his head. “Going along with his theory. This is our chance, don’t you see? If he thinks we’re the soldiers of a goddess and we can win the damn game, then we’re home free. Untouchable. And we won’t have to play nine more matches first. It’s perfect.”