by Selena Kitt
Cord shrugged. “Prob’ly fake,” he said and dug his heels into Keela. The men accompanying them took that as a signal to head out. The carriage lurched forward, starting its long journey to the Ashula Mountains.
Tired of watching her companion scratch black markings on sheaves of pressed tree, Hope turned her attention to the view through the carriage’s portal. She would have preferred to walk to her destination, but he had persuaded her this form of transport would be faster. He was right. At this speed they would make it there in hardly any time at all.
She occasionally caught sight of the two aliens as they rode up and down the trail. The clean-faced one seemed more at ease than his hairy brother. That monster would often reach into his garment and withdraw something that caught the light. He would then press it quickly to his lips before hiding it once more. The vile liquid, she decided. The knowledge that this alien who was charged with escorting and protecting them was so dependent on the noxious substance made her uneasy.
The familiar push of thought into her mind distracted her from her worry. One of her kind was nearby and they were looking for her. She yanked open the portal and shoved her head through, as if the carriage itself impeded the message. Her hat flapped wildly in the wind but it was tied tightly under her chin. Nothing would dislodge it.
The message was from her family, passed along by people from other tribes, to her. They were coming for her. She communicated that she did not wish it, that she would make her way to her destiny on her own, and that they shouldn’t worry. This was sent back through the link. Their response was what she had expected. They were not satisfied. All their hopes for the future rested with her. Her people were sending others to accompany her. She understood their concern; there weren’t many like her left, and if she didn’t make it, then they would have to find another to take her place. Before the aliens had arrived, there had been more than enough to ensure this. Now, after the slaughter and the still occasional attacks on her people, there were few like her left. If only the aliens knew that their fate was entwined with that of her people. Would they have done things differently? Would they help if they weren’t being compensated for their efforts?
No, she replied vehemently. If her people attempted to join her, there would be bloodshed. She could not explain to them why they should stay away. They wouldn’t understand and would probably attack the aliens. She would not let anyone die—alien or otherwise—because of her. She implored her family to call them back, reminding them of the rules, which stated that only she and one other were to enter the sacred cave. They relented, however; a lone male was to still to follow. He, they said, would be the other.
Hope hissed quietly into the air. All she could do was hope that their choice would keep his head and his distance from them. At least until she could leave the aliens.
“We’re being followed,” Gerrit said suddenly.
Cord relit his cigar and shook out the flint stick. “You talkin’ bout the trained men or the lone Camo?” he asked.
Gerrit pulled on the reins and wheeled his mount to face Cord. “Damn it, Cord. Why’d you not tell me?”
Cord shrugged. “More interested in why they’re following us,” he said and slapped Keela’s behind. His mount lengthened its stride to a loping run as Cord steered them off the road into the countryside. He caught a glimpse of the scientist’s “special” sister as he rode by. If she saw him, she showed no sign, too busy hanging half out the window catching a cold.
Cord didn’t know what surprised him more: being followed by Corps-trained men or the lone Camo, a member of the native population. Either way, it didn’t sit well with him. Most of the Corps members who had traveled to the planet had disbanded not long after settling the planet. Those who weren’t able to take to living on the land had joined a former general who created his own army to drive out every last Camo. Cord didn’t care for them either. A Camo had killed his wife and son two years ago, while he had been away hunting. As far as he was concerned, the general, now self-proclaimed governor, could do what he liked with them. He wouldn’t lift a finger to stop the man. What was worrying though, was them leaving their keep and following him. Not for a moment did he think they were after him in particular. They wanted the scientist or something he had. That he was sure of. He knew the man was a Camo sympathizer. Why he’d taken the job from a known Camo-lover was beyond him. Oh yeah, he needed the currency. For all that drinking and whoring, like Gerrit had said.
His plan was to confront the men first. They, however, had a different idea. The first shot came from the front of the carriage Cord had been leading. He cursed and yanked on Keela’s rein. If he had been at his peak, he would have known they’d split the party. Keela’s huge feet ate up the terrain as they rushed to join in the fight.
At the sound of the first gunshot, Hope’s companion had dragged her back through the window and thrown her to the floor of the carriage. He had then jumped atop her, using his body as a shield. The animal pulling their vehicle panicked and bolted, taking them with it. The alien riding above screamed.
Hope hissed and shoved the scientist aside. She held the bench seats to keep balance and looked up in time to see the alien who had been driving them fall to the ground. They were now at the mercy of a frightened animal.
“Hope!” the scientist yelled as she disappeared through the window.
She hadn’t jumped. They were moving much too fast for that. Instead she climbed to the driver’s seat. From that height she could see the gunfight as it played out behind her. Aliens killing aliens. She couldn’t save them from each other. Their kind of senseless violence confused her. What she could do was save herself and her companion by stopping the animal.
She quickly surveyed their surroundings and saw they were fast approaching the edge of a cliff. Far below there was nothing but sharp rocks and water.
She looked up to find her companion had joined her. He was frightened, but had risked his life yet again to save her. She smiled to assure him she was fine, and before he could take her hand, she flung herself forward, over the edge of the carriage.
Cord had both guns drawn. He and Keela worked as one, weaving their way among obstacles with just the nudge of his knee. Adrenaline had taken hold and he relied on his experience in the Corps, which he had eaten and breathed for years, to get him through this fight.
He might have been the worse for wear owing to drink, but these men weren’t of the same caliber as those he had once fought with. Some were better than others, but none was as good as Cord. They did, however, have numbers.
Keela stopped without warning. Cord barely managed to keep his seat. He had reflexively squeezed his knees into Keela’s sides and instead of urging it forward, he stilled as well. Something was off and Keela had sensed it. He tracked his gaze across the fight. One of theirs was dead, while two had lost their mounts. Gerrit and another were still atop theirs and were picking off those on foot. That just left...
“Crut,” he ground out as he and Keela leapt back into action. The carriage was missing its driver and careening out of control toward the cliffs.
Hope landed astride the beast but slipped sideways. She frantically grabbed shaggy hair that reminded her of the hairy alien and pulled herself into a safer position. The poor thing was sweat-soaked, its fear overwhelming. Even if they survived this, the animal wouldn’t and that saddened her.
With fingers threaded through its mane, Hope forced her healing warmth into the animal. It slowed the animal’s wild stampede but it wasn’t enough to stop him.
Cord leaned low over Keela as they thundered after the carriage. He caught sight of the scientist leaning over the driver’s seat. Good, he thought. He’s trying to stop the cursed vehicle. Then he saw the scientist’s sister riding the panicked beast, which brought another curse to his mouth.
He chanced a look at the fast-approaching cliff and raised his gun. Without thought, he pulled the trigger and the animal beneath the girl staggered and fell. The carriage,
still hitched to it, lurched before it tipped on its side.
Cord and Keela pulled up behind it. The crazy girl was alive. Alive and hissing, he amended. The scientist popped up nearby, a little worse for wear.
“Why’d you let her do a stunt like that?” Cord yelled at the man. “What’re you touched, like her?”
“I couldn’t stop her,” he replied. “What is going on?”
“What’s going on is an ambush. Who else knew about your little foray to the mountains?” Cord asked.
“Probably the governor,” the scientist told him.
“I was right, you are touched in the head,” Cord said and turned Keela back to the fight. Gerrit probably needed his help and he wanted to interrogate one of those men to find out what the crut was going on.
Unfortunately, his flight had not gone unnoticed. Two had split from the main party and had given chase. Cord shot and killed the first one before either of them could aim their own weapons. The second went down not soon after, but not fast enough to keep him from firing.
From the corner of his eye he saw the scientist’s body jerk as the bullet tore through him. The man stared at his chest and coughed up blood.
Cord whirled Keela around and swore again. It wasn’t proper to let your employer get shot. Not while you were still on the job and hadn’t been paid yet. He jumped from Keela’s back and knelt beside him. One look was all Cord needed to know there was nothing they could do.
“Please take her,” he said.
“She’s not my type.”
“To the Ashula Mountains,” the scientist told him.
“Right,” Cord said and mentally kicked himself for what he’d said.
“She can pay you,” the scientist said, correctly understanding that the man still wanted to get his currency. He made a gesture to Hope who tried to get past Cord.
She made a gesture back but whatever the scientist had communicated to her, he seemed insistent. The girl relented and climbed back into the carriage. She emerged with a bag and shook it for effect. She had the currency.
The scientist tugged on Cord’s sleeve, drawing him closer. He pulled a small notebook from his clothes and forced it into Cord’s hand. “Your word, sir,” he whispered.
Cord watched as he coughed up more blood but didn’t give his word.
“Your word as a soldier,” the scientist tried again.
Cord remained silent.
“As a man,” he said. “Take her to the mountains. Your life depends on it.”
The girl shook the bag again and Cord closed his eyes. A dying man, a bagful of money, and a girl in need. When he opened his eyes, the man was dead. “I give you my word,” he murmured.
Cord stood, shoved the notebook into his shirt pocket and regarded the girl coolly. She was tall and gangly. The dress she wore was ugly and that dammed hat annoyed him. Still, he’d made a promise to a dead man and as long as she had his currency, he would make good on that promise.
She hissed when he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her on Keela’s back. He put his foot on Keela’s hind leg and climbed on behind her.
“I better not regret this,” he told her.
As they returned to the fight, a third smaller group of soldiers joined the party. Cord cursed their luck and emptied one of his guns into the closest ones. Gerrit, he was happy to see, was alive and still on his mount. Cord, however, couldn’t afford to get his new employer killed as well.
“Scientist’s dead,” he said when they were in earshot. Knowing Gerrit he probably swore at that piece of news. “Meet at the cabin!” he added before kicking his heels into Keela. No doubt something else for Gerrit to swear about, but Cord had confidence in his friend’s ability to survive. Besides, he had a crazy girl with a bag of currency to worry about.
Hope stiffened. One of her kind was close by. She could feel his presence and tilted her head to face him. The alien noticed and followed her gaze. He made a loud harsh noise and raised his arm, his instrument of death in hand.
She acted on instinct and threw her head back, the top of it connected with a part of the alien, which prompted more noises. The instrument boomed and when she looked again, she saw it had gone wide and missed. She sent a request to her fellow and he lowered his spear. Although he wouldn’t understand the situation, she knew he would respect the wishes of someone with her status. At least for the time being.
Cord was too distracted by his bloodied nose to hear the motivated soldier gaining on them. The bullet that lodged itself into his shoulder, however, had him paying plenty of attention. He roared with pain and jerked Keela to a stop. They turned to face the oncoming soldier as he continued at a gallop.
Cord shoved the girl’s face into his mount to keep her out of his way and maybe so she wouldn’t get hit. Mostly it was the former. Lifting his good arm, he pulled the hammer back and sent his last bullet through that son of a bitch’s forehead. He hastily returned his gun to its holster and steered them toward his cabin. His nose and his shoulder would have to wait.
“Crazy chit,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Gonna get me killed.”
Night had fallen long before they reached his cabin. He was surprised at how rundown it looked. Two years ago he had walked away and hadn’t been back since. His happy home life had been destroyed that day when his wife and son were killed by some Camo. He hadn’t been there to save them, having gone out to track and trap wildlife for trade. Instead, it had been Gerrit that had found their bodies and buried them in the garden behind the cabin.
Keela’s snout snuffled the air as they stared at the homestead. The girl in front of him woke. She’d fallen asleep hours ago. Keela’s rolling gait had that effect. Now she peered at the wooden construct before them and waited for him to take the lead.
Cord ran a hand over his eyes and beard and sighed. He couldn’t go inside and he dared not go into the garden. They would have to camp out front. He clumsily slipped from Keela’s back and winced when his feet hit dirt. That bullet needed to come out. He staggered away, leaving the girl to see to getting herself down, and dropped to the snow-covered ground.
Hope gave Keela a loving rub before gracefully hopping down. She followed the alien, knowing he was in pain, yet hesitant to help. She wanted to see what he would do before she offered her gift.
He gingerly peeled his shirt away and tried to look at the back of his shoulder. He couldn’t reach it. The girl would have to dig the damned thing out.
“Hey, girl,” he called to her. She stood there just staring at him as if he was the freak.
Cord muttered under his breath about the dead and his own stupidity. He pulled out his flask and knife and unsheathed the latter. Normally he’d have sterilized the blade in a fire, but he didn’t have that luxury. Cord sighed and stared morosely at his flask. He took a few quick sips to take the edge off before he carefully poured the rest of his precious liquid over the knife and his shoulder.
“Hope,” he said, trying again to get her attention. This time he got a reaction and cautiously she approached.
Having watched him, she knew he intended to dig the object from his flesh. It did need to come out. She reached for the knife he held out. He glared at her, not releasing it until the last moment, as if reluctant to trust her.
“Don’t kill me,” he told her before presenting his back. Not that she knew what he said.
Hope crouched over him, her night vision allowing her to see the light hairs on his back and shoulders. The dark ones she had seen on his chest when he had removed his shirt had startled her. Not even the aliens who had held her captive had this much hair.
Hesitantly she placed her fingertips to one side of his wound and felt him shiver. Without warning, she thrust the tip of the sharp blade into his flesh. His muscles clenched and his breath rattled around the stick clamped between his teeth. It took a lot of wiggling, but finally she coaxed the bullet free.
Cord spat what had once been one stick, now two, out and after a couple more sips, pou
red the last of his drink over his mutilated shoulder. He grabbed up his shirt and used it to dry the sweat that coated his body.
He was about to stand when he felt the cool touch of the girl on his shoulder again. A warmth tingled over his skin, spreading from the wound out. It felt as if a soothing balm coursed through his veins, healing as it went. When that faded Cord was surprised to find his shoulder no longer hurt. He chanced moving his arm and when nothing impeded its movement, he started to question his sanity.
Heavy breathing behind him reminded him he should thank his surgeon. Cord turned and found the girl on hands and knees, panting. He soon realized she was in pain and the first thing that came to mind was that she was going into labor. It reminded him of when his wife had given birth to their son.
When he got closer, he was shocked to find blood blossoming across her right shoulder.
“Crut,” he muttered. She’d been shot too! How had he missed it?
Cord grabbed her dress by the back collar and ripped it, revealing the wound. It looked exactly how he imagined his was. Had that bastard gotten two shots off instead of one?