Under Different Stars (7 page)

Feeling hot and sticky from running for my life through the jungle, my chin rises militantly. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall joining your army, so your orders don’t apply to me.”

I see Jax cringe. “Kricket—” Jax says quickly, but Trey cuts him off by holding up his hand. Then, he turns to me and the menace in his eyes is unmistakable.

Bracing myself for whatever is coming, I watch as Trey approaches me and leans down until he’s an inch from my face. “This is your draft notice, Kricket. You’re in
my
army now. You no longer think for yourself. I will think for you. I will tell you what to do and when to do it. Do you understand?” he asks.

Allowing a small smile to grace my lips, I reply, “By your logic, I guess I should ask
you
if I understand.” I look beyond Trey’s scowling face and see Jax close his eyes as his face falls. I look back to Trey.

“Wayra, hand me the rope,” Trey says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. Feeling myself pale a little, I fidget, shifting from one foot to the other as I wait with my heart in my throat for what is going to happen next. As the rope is put into Trey’s hands, he asks, “Feel like changing your mind?”

Shaking my head, my chin comes up, “No.”

I watch his expression sour, like he tastes something he despises, right before he lunges toward me. I cringe involuntarily as my face turns away. My arms come up to protect me, knowing his fists will probably hurt more than I’m used to. He surprises me, though, when he doesn’t hurt me. He merely grasps my wrists, tying the rope around them as I tug against him to get free.

Trey looks almost alarmed, like seeing me flinch and realizing that I thought he intended to hit me wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from me. His voice is gruff as he says, “I’ll treat you like a prisoner until you learn to follow my orders. I can’t have you disobeying me here. It could get us all killed, Kricket.” I remain silent. “Wayra, put her on my back. We’ve wasted enough time,” Trey orders, watching my reaction. I try not to have one as Wayra picks me up, looping my arms over Trey’s neck as he settles me on Trey’s back.

“She’s on, sir,” Wayra says in a clipped tone.

“Try not to choke me, because it’ll be a long way down,” Trey advises me over his shoulder. He doesn’t waste any more time, but begins climbing the huge tree in front of us. I have to wind my legs around Trey’s waist as he climbs the bark like a monkey. Glancing up, I can see a wooden platform above our heads. When we near it, Trey slips through an opening. He sits on the lip of the deck, ducking under my arms so that I’m no longer attached to his back.

Leaning against the massive trunk, I gaze around, seeing rope railings leading to rope bridges connecting several of the trees together hundreds of feet above the ground. Darkness is descending, making it difficult to see very far.

“What is this place?” I ask Trey, as Jax crawls through the hole in the wooden planks.

Trey frowns at me, but doesn’t answer my question.
He’s still pouting
, I think, shifting my eyes away from him.

“It’s a base. A place to stop and rest,” Jax answers soothingly. He leans forward to untie my hands.

“No. Leave it tied,” Trey says, watching my reaction as Jax reluctantly drops his hands. I close my eyes, resting my head against the tree. Weariness makes my body droop and I wave off the canteen before giving in to fatigue.

I must have slept, because when I open my eyes again, it’s much darker. The only light is coming from the enormous moon above my head and a galaxy of stars surrounding it. No one has touched me, I don’t think, because I’m still in the same position. My hands are numb, as the rope around them is cutting off my circulation. Flexing my fingers, I try to get the blood flowing back into them.

“She’s not at all what I expected,” I hear Wayra say from around the curve of the tree.

“What did you expect her to be like?” Jax asks.

“I don’t know…whiny. I thought we’d have to listen to her crying the whole way back, but she hasn’t cried once,” he says, sounding confused.

“She’s fiery,” Trey’s voice says easily. “Wild.”

“My mouth almost dropped open when she stood up to you, Trey,” Jax says, sounding amused.

“Mine, too,” Trey replies ruefully. “I didn’t know whether to wring her neck or…” he trails off.

“Can someone please tell me what that little pink, lacy thing is that I keep catching a glimpse of when she bends down?” Wayra asks.

“I don’t know what it is, but I have to say that I like it more than I should,” Jax replies, sounding amused, and Trey and Wayra grunt in agreement before the conversation lulls.

“How did Pan and Arissa die?” Wayra asks, causing my face to lose color.

“Pneumonia,” Jax says. “That’s what was listed on the medical records.”

“Pneumonia? What’s that?” Wayra asks.

“Best I can tell it’s a human type of Crue,” Jax replies.

“But…Crue is treatable—no one dies of Crue,” Wayra says, sounding confused.

“Pneumonia is a virus that humans contract. We may have been able to treat them with our medicines, but they had no resistance to it—no antibodies to protect them from it and without our medicines…” he trails off. “It makes me nervous. Kricket grew up on Earth. She hasn’t been exposed to any of our germs. The first thing we have to do when we get her back to Rafe is a battery of inoculations,” Jax says. My heart twists in my chest, hearing that my parents might be alive today if they had stayed here.

“You mean, she could get Crue and die?” Wayra asks, sounding nervous.

“Not if I can help it. We keep her away from everyone until she gets vaccinated, after that, she should be fine,” Jax says in a determined tone.

“Do you think the knob knocker knows all this? She talked to them. There’s no telling what kind of diseases she can get from Kyon,” Wayra says with irritation in his tone.

“We have to keep her away from them,” Jax says. “Whatever they want, it can’t be good. Her mother was one of their priestesses—that’s higher than royalty there.”

“Makes you wonder what made her run from them,” Trey says softly.

“Or what Pan possessed to make her run to him,” Jax counters in a contemplative tone.

“Hmm?” Trey asks.

“What makes one run into the arms of one’s enemy?” Jax poses the question.

“I cannot fathom,” Trey answers, sounding puzzled.

“Love,” Jax replies, and Wayra chuckles.

No longer able to hold still without my legs cramping, I stir from my position. Sitting up against the tree, a small groan escapes me as I try to stretch only to be inhibited by my bound hands.

“Kricket?” Trey asks softly, getting up, he comes to my side, kneeling down. “How do you feel?” he asks, hovering like he’s not sure of what to do. It seems uncharacteristic of him because he’s always so confident. Jax follows him, hovering too.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say, dropping my chin and resting my wrists on my raised knees. I’m grateful that it’s dark because I can feel heat flushing my cheeks.

“Oh!” Trey says, like I’ve said something extraordinary. “But, other than that…you feel healthy, right? No fever…cough…rash?” he asks. I raise my head a notch, holding out my wrists to him mutely.

As I watch Trey untie the rope, Jax springs away, coming back with a small package. “Here, this is for…uhh, there’s a diagram, if you need help,” he says.

“I need a light,” I say, curiously taking the soft bag from him that looks like it came from a day spa. When Jax returns with the light, I get to my feet. I feel light-headed and it causes me to sway a little. Trey’s arms go around me, steadying me.

“Jax, get the visor,” Trey orders, “we need to check her vitals—something’s not right.”

“I’m fine.” I push away from Trey but he doesn’t let me go completely; his hand remains on my elbow. “Just had a head rush…stood up too fast. Stop hovering,” I scold him.

“I’m not hovering,” Trey retorts with a frown. “I don’t hover!”

“You’re hovering. He’s hovering, isn’t he, Wayra?” I ask, seeing Wayra watching us.

“You are hovering, sir,” Wayra replies with a smirk.

“I don’t hover,” Trey growls, scowling at Wayra, who holds up both his hands.

“I need some privacy,” I say softly, looking at his hand on my arm. He immediately lets go of me, turning away.

Taking the package, I go further away from them, around the other side of the enormous tree. I scan the contents of the satchel; it’s full of toiletries. It has wipes that are like wet naps and a sponge, that when I unwrap it and squeeze it, contains a soapy solution for washing my body.

Quickly, I take care of my pressing needs. Then, I use the sponge, cleaning myself as quickly as I can. After I put everything but the comb back into the bag, my stomach growls loudly. Knowing I have to keep my strength up, I move back around the wooden deck of the tree, finding Trey, Wayra, and Jax sitting with their backs to the trunk speaking quietly to each other.

“I’m not quite sure what to do with this,” I say to Jax, holding up the bag he had given me.

“I’ll take it,” he says. Thanking him, I hand it back along with the headlamp. They have a long stick-like lamp that’s glowing dimly near the turn of the tree. Its light isn’t yellow, but ice blue and it doesn’t seem to be attracting any bugs. I sit near them and let my legs hang over the edge of the deck, while holding one of the woven rope spindles of the railing.

I can’t help marveling at the night sky, the immensity of it. No lights mar its perfection. Goose bumps, rising on my arms, make me realize that the lack of light means there aren’t any cities around…no civilization that I’m accustomed to for survival. Feeling myself panicking, I begin combing out my hair, trying to calm myself.
I have to stay with them until I can find some sort of civilization. I don’t know how to survive here
.

The conversation behind me slowly dies. Glancing over my shoulder, I pause, seeing them all watching me. I narrow my eyes at them, and Jax straightens, saying, “Are you hungry, Kricket?” Nodding slowly, I see him get up. Rummaging through his pack, he produces something packaged in a clear wrap. He hands it to me. “I think this one is pheasant.”

“Mmm pheasant,” I say sarcastically, and see him grin.

“It’s like…hen,” he says, “with bread…uh, dough?”

Opening the package, I extract a small pie from it. “Does it taste like cat poop?” I ask, sniffing it suspiciously.

“Just try it,” he says before returning to his seat. I take a tentative bite and find it tastes like a chicken-pot-pie. My stomach growls again as I take a larger bite, chewing it hungrily.

“I think the pheasant is the best one…better than the quiche,” Wayra says. “I once traded four quiche packs for one pheasant. That was the day I got this,” Wayra holds up his arm and shows us a long, thick scar. “Sactum amp tossed by an Alameeda who snuck into the compound at chow time.”

“You’re supposed to get out of the way when someone throws an amp at you,” Trey says with a sarcastic grin.

“Oh really?” Wayra fires back.

“Why didn’t you get it wrapped?” Jax asks, looking at the scar.

“Because it looks tough. The blushers love scars. I’m not going to get it removed either…it’s a badge of honor,” he says, flexing his arm and showing off his powerful muscles.

Jax rolls his eyes. “You think that’s tough, check this out,” he says, lifting his shirt and showing us a deep scar across his back. “That’s from a squelch tracker.”

“How did it just skim over your back like that and not rip you to pieces?” Wayra asks, looking at Jax’s scar admiringly.

“I was laying face down in mud,” he grins as an explanation. “The heat seeker couldn’t find all of me to rip apart. So, the next time you dig your trench…go deep,” Jax says, with a cheeky smile.

“You’re a cautionary tale,” Trey says. “Remind me to use you when we’re training the new gits.”

“Where are all your scars, Trey?” Jax asks curiously. “Did you get wrapped?”

“Yeah…I don’t remember it though,” Trey replies softly, looking down. “One moment I was in a battle, the next thing I can remember is waking up at an outpost.”

“Did they do regeneration?” Jax asks, definitely interested.

“Yes, extensive regeneration, so they tell me. They almost had to go to my brother, Victus, for DNA, but they managed with what was left of me.

“That’s so crystal,” Wayra says in awe.

“No, it’s not. Regeneration is disturbing,” Trey says honestly.

“Did you watch the re-growth?” Jax asks.

“I watched my hand reattach, but they put me out for the rest. When I woke up, I didn’t have a scratch on me,” he replies, grasping his hand and flexing it. Looking up, he catches me watching him.

Jax follows Trey’s stare to me. “What about you, Kricket? Any skinned knees or broken bones?” Something in his eyes tells me to be careful. I stiffen before trying to pull off a casual shrug.

“You know,” I say quickly, “the usual.”

“No…I don’t know. What counts as ‘usual’ on Earth?” he asks doggedly, like he knows something.

“I once had a paper cut…right here on this finger. That hurt a lot,” I hold up my little finger and wag it in the air.