He blinked again. Tried to focus on her words, not her eyes. Didn’t quite manage it. “So you think…” What did she think? Did he want to know?
“…that time is shifting, possibly shuddering from a massive energy release. Maybe.”
The horizon rippled again, gold at the edges, the wave washed over them like a cool breeze and after it passed, they stood closer together, though he did not recall either of them moving.
She pointed up, flickered her finger. “Like that. Like when we kissed, and were in that other place, only this time…we stayed there.” She licked her lips. “Or here. Or something.”
He inhaled on a shudder that was part fear, part…not. “It must be a dream.” A good dream. Her scent wrapped around him again and he felt the petals of his mother’s flowers brush his face. Saw them shifting in a breeze as gentle as the one that brought him their scent. He rubbed his forehead, so he wouldn’t reach for her. His brain felt slow, ached, but not in a bad way. Was that what happened? He’d been injured and was now caught in a hallucination? It made more sense than time shifting, though if he could choose, he’d stay here, looking at Ashe looking at him.
Uncertainty crept into her eyes. “Do you want it to be a dream?”
“No.”
This smile topped the others. The curve of her mouth, the sparks of light in her green eyes lit something in his chest. Made his heart jump.
“That’s good, cause it’s not a dream, fly boy.” She reached up, touched the side of his face, the pads of her fingers whisper soft, like the flower petals.
The ground shuddered hard. He gripped her arm to steady her, though she rode the unstable ground without visible discomfort.
“That was an earthquake, was it not?”
Ashe looked around, as if she expected—he did not know what she expected.
“Yes.” She frowned. “And no.” Her gaze intersected his. “Your sensors didn’t pick it up. I’d guess it was a time…quake.”
How—he looked at where he touched her. He must have kept her access active, though he did not recall—a shimmer of light appeared against the setting sun, rolling toward, and then passing over them. It vanished as if it had never been, leaving behind a feeling of menace at odds with the pure, gold light of evening. Ashe must have felt, too. She moved closer, her body angled like a warrior giving another support. Her hand went to her side, as if looking for a weapon not there. He realized he’d mirrored the move. The feel of his weapon reassured though he was not clear how it would help if this were a time or earthquake.
The rumble of aftershocks was not unexpected, though each one set off a wave of rolling light that slowly, but surely erased the camp, leaving them standing in a grassy field. He looked down, found faint traces of where the camp had been.
“It’s pushing us forward in time now,” Ashe murmured. She appeared both hyper alert and fighting loose, despite her lack of weaponry.
He’d started to extract his weapons before the first scent reached him. Now he flipped both to kill settings. “Zelk.” The single word hissed between clenched teeth. He changed his grip on one weapon, extended it toward Ashe. “If you are going to shoot me, please wait until my back is turned,” he murmured, a slight grin softening the words, though he meant them. Only someone you trust can betray you. She had that power now, though he hadn’t planned to bestow it.
“Thanks.” The weapon settled in her hands like a purring planka. Her lips curved in real delight.
He might have shared her delight if the evening breeze hadn’t brought him a second scent. He stiffened. “Timrick.” His chin lifted, his body angled as he homed in on a direction.
“Shan—”
He did not hesitate. He could not. He arched a brow.
Her sigh was big enough to unsettle the breeze for several seconds. “Okay. I’ve got your back.”
He gave a sharp nod and headed straight into the scent, following it like a trail, while regret coiled in his gut. He’d promised to save her from the Authority, but not by getting her killed. He glanced back, perhaps to tell her he was sorry, but the words caught in his throat when he saw the light of battle in her eyes. She did not fear the fight, did not fear death. Then he would not fear it for her. He would fight and die with her. Adrenaline licked through his veins and something he almost didn’t recognize. Could he be happy? It made no sense, but nothing had since Timrick went missing. “It is a good day to die.”
She made a sound closely resembling a snort. “A good day to make them die.”
“Zelk travel in trevas.”
A pause, as if she processed this statement. “Eight to two is an opportunity to excel where I come from.”
He did not inquire how she knew a treva meant eight Zelk. Her matter-of-fact acceptance of the odds, her cool confidence chilled the heat in his blood and sharpened his awareness. They would not be able to see the chameleon-like Zelk, but he could scent them—
The ground beneath them shuddered again, setting off another round of the strange light waves. Even as he strode forward, the waves…peeled away what he saw, changing the time of day, even the season they passed through. One wave put them in field of snow, the next leaving them in the stark bareness of autumn, and then they were back in the denser foliage of spring. Through it all the scent path pulled him on, kept him anchored and focused. He reached a path winding through the trees and stopped just as the last of the waves passed over them, taking the scent from him, too, as it shifted the wind’s direction.
Their gazes met for a half a startled second, then they both dropped into the underbrush.
The way the path bent, first one direction and then another, reminded him of his last dirt-side encounter with a treva of Zelk. The cleverly conceived ambush had almost cost him his life and had taken his then-commander’s. Only a shift in the wind had saved the bulk of the patrol. The majority of the Zelk treva had taken positions in a line along one side of the ambush site, a single Zelk positioned on the other, at the end of the line to cut off their retreat once the trap was sprung. If Shan hadn’t caught their scent, the whole patrol would have been inside the trap zone and none would have survived.
The horizon shivered again, bringing change he felt, rather than saw. Against his chest, he felt the soft vibration of boots against the ground. A patrol or a treva? Whoever approached was down wind, too. He felt a prickle along the back of his neck. He glanced right, then left, only moving his eyes, felt a strong need to stay completely still for reasons he could not have explained. Nothing—wait. At first it was just an impression. Then he realized that almost against his nose, the terrain curved almost like the calf of a leg. The prickle turned to ice. He looked left again, taking more time to study the underbrush. The wind ran along his back, taking any scent away, but he still found another Zelk.
They were part of the Zelk line.
* * * *
Ashe wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to move, just knew she didn’t. Didn’t want to breathe, but kind of needed to do that. Interesting that Shan hadn’t moved since they both dropped. No question the waves were messing with them. Have you ever experienced anything like this?
Lurch’s negative was a bit on the absent-minded side and would have annoyed if a tracking screen hadn’t popped into view. It showed their position. And an approaching line of six figures and several meters to their right a lone figure positioned further up the path. Before Ashe could formulate a thought or question, Lurch did a data dump into her brain, then popped up the key point.
The Zelk don’t show up on life signs scans. And they are chameleons. She frowned, her gaze sliding to her right. Just how chameleon-like were these things? Her gaze narrowed. Was that bush bending a bit? It took some staring to find the whole figure. That camo is as good as mine used to be. She thought this because she didn’t want to think about how still—and how close—the Zelk was. If he took a step, it might be on her, or at least her hand. If he looked down—
Don’t think about it.
The slight vibration of the approaching patrol? Was it Keltinarian? Seemed indicated. She felt their approach and figured the Zelk must be focused on that. No reason to look down. For now.
Could knowing where these two Zelk are help you figure out if there are anymore? Something about the path and the lay of the land and their position reminded her of something, plus Shan seemed certain there were at least eight. That left six around them somewhere.
If it were me planning this, I’d use a classic L-shaped ambush. She used the tracking map to mentally position a team—she’d have two guys right where the two Zelk waited. Or close to them. Have a single shooter on the other side, either at the top or bottom of the line. Zelk were up wind from the approaching line, too. They’d get no warning.
It is possible that a wave will shift you somewhere else before the line reaches the Zelk.
Or it brought us here with intent. It didn’t matter what Time, or she or Lurch thought. The tension in Shan’s body told her he was going to get involved. And she’d have to back him up. Be nice to know where the rest of them are before the shooting starts.
I have almost gotten control of his transport system.
And if time shifts while we’re in transit? You’ve lost track of his ship through each shift. Not to mention Shan was likely to be peeved if he thought his brother was here. She looked at the single life sign. Could that be Timrick? Shan had smelled him before the waves started hitting. And if it was Timmy, which was he? Bait or betrayer? If he were Garradian, she wouldn’t even think the question. She’d just shoot him and be done with it. But he wasn’t her brother.
Another quake, or aftershock, one that didn’t seem to affect the Zelk, but it cut off their contact with Shan’s ship again. And maybe Time was bored, because it also dropped the Keltinarian patrol right into the ambush. Or jumped them ahead into it.
“Aim for their heads,” Shan hissed into her ear, before rolling over and opening fire on the Zelk to their left.
Ashe rolled onto her back the other way and shot the Zelk on their right. His camo flickered at each shot. Took three to bring him down. He slumped, heading right for her. She scrambled out of its way, then to her feet, though in a low crouch. Boy, he did smell nasty. Heard and smelled the sound of shorted wires and then his camo dropped. Spikes protruded in every possible direction from nasty looking scales, the sight almost as creepy as the near invisibility. It had round, red eyes that didn’t seem able to blink, though they did begin to pulse.
They self-destruct rather than be captured.
Had to assume the one Shan shot was getting ready to blow, too. Based on Lurch’s data dump, they had about sixty seconds to get clear, maybe less. Any chance you’ll be connected before the gomers blow? She followed the flashes of fire back to more Zelk. Tried not to notice as the patrol took casualties. One boy dropped across the fallen Zelk, his eyes already blanked by death. Eamon. The surge of anger surprised her. She quit counting seconds and increased her rate of fire. Next to her Shan rose, firing down the line of Zelk. None of them turned to return fire. Odd, but didn’t reduce their risk, as other downed Zelk began their own self-destruct countdowns. Not to mention, they were in the Zelk line at risk from—an energy beam tracked inches from her face—friendly fire.
They are going to be one, big ass bomb.
I’m almost there.
She grabbed Shan’s arm, yanking his attention her way. “We need to leave.” It was possible he’d had contact with his ship through all the shifts.
He frowned. “My brother—” He looked down at the Zelk. The pulse of the red eyes sped up, which seemed to indicate the approach of detonation. “Not time to get far enough away—”
“Commander!” Cadir took his eyes off the battle, shock in his voice, then in his face as the shot hit caught him dead center, throwing him off the path.
Past his sprawled body, the horizon turned brown, like a dust storm on the desert. It sucked bodies—live and dead—up like a vacuum. The fallen Zelk’s eyes quit blinking.
“We need to leave now,” Ashe said, clamping her arm on his.
The tug of transport hurt, like being wrenched from the ground, from the storm and maybe boosted by an explosion. A howl—of protest?—and then the chill of the transport beam encompassed them.
* * * *
Ashe’s back slammed against metal. Her breath whooshed out. Shan slammed on to her. Her eyes crossed. Metal tilted, sending them rolling—a tangle of legs and arms—across the decking and into a wall. She ended up on top, her cheek against Shan’s chest. Stars danced past her eyes—not a happy dance, but maybe a bit relieved. Felt like she’d been squeezed through a straw. Even her veins hurt. If that was typical Keltinarian transport, she’d rather blow up than use it again.
I do not think it was a normal transit. I am, in fact, surprised we made it.
High five on getting us here. She frowned. High five? What’s that? Instead of providing an answer, Lurch began smoothing out the pain spots—yay for a more normal supply of drones. You missed a spot.
It has an external cause.
She shifted so she could check it out. Found Shan’s weapon stabbing her ribs. Still set to kill. And his finger on the trigger. Lovely. She adjusted its trajectory away from her body. Then adjusted her weapon so it wasn’t pointing at Shan’s head. Was a bit surprised Shan hadn’t complained about that until she saw his ridiculously long lashes laying fanned across pale cheeks. Her heart jerked. What’s wrong with him?
The rough transit. He will recover.
That sounded a bit—something, but in the end it was good news, so she didn’t call him on it. Truth be told, she didn’t mind a catch-your-breath moment. Then her breath hitched instead of catching at the sight of him. Out-like-a-light softened the sharp angles of his face. The shadow of his beard made a heady frame for a relaxed, fuller curve to his finely sculpted mouth. Ashe wasn’t sure which fascinated more, the beard or the mouth. Men in her time were self-shaving, so she’d never seen one. Of course, already a fan of the mouth.
She licked hers, wondering why he seemed to come into sharper, better focus with each time shift. He looked the same, but it felt like she saw him better. Or knew him better? Could time be bringing them closer to a place where they knew each other? Was she seriously wishful thinking? She felt him stir, as if consciousness was returning. When the lashes lifted, what would she see in his eyes? Would he still look at her as if he knew her, liked her even?
His arms lifted, closed around her. His chest gave a slight rumble, almost a contented murmur in there. That felt nice, made her feel almost safe. Been a while since she felt safe. She took a steadying breath, then reluctantly considered their recent fire fight.
The head-kill-shot thing made her gut twitch a bit. Could they be a future version of an automaton? Seemed a bit of a stretch when they looked like a cross between an ancient T-Rex and a well-armored lizard. Top notch camo, too. Though their battle behavior was odd. Why hadn’t they shot back when she and Shan started shooting them? She would have shot the question to Lurch, but she felt him trying to fix their position yet again. The time shifting was messing with both of them. Might be making her a bit paranoid. Did she really think the evil overlord had created a creepy lizard automaton, but only used it in this time? Would have liked a look inside its noggin before it blew up, though, just to see the power source and erase her slight doubt.
She felt Lurch’s tension as the connect time increased, then his relief—boosted by hers—when it happened. Even with the connection, the data flow felt slower than usual. At least Shan’s ship was here for them to connect to. If it had disappeared in the time event, they’d have been trashed—a word she didn’t commonly use but which suited what they’d have been. She also suspected it, and some other unfamiliar phrases, came from Lurch’s time with not-so-great grandma. If they survived, she intended to get really pissy about him contaminating her vocabulary with not-so-great grandma’s favorite sayings. It made her feel—
—sibl
ing rivalry?
She is not my sibling.
She is not your rival.
Didn’t feel like that, but she didn’t press the point. What’s our sitrep? I did not just use another of her phrases, Ashe thought, mentally hitting her forehead.
We still hold position relatively close to Designation 023456, but we appear to have shifted in time.
Forward?
Both forward and back. I have been able to retask one of his sensor arrays to track time. Now that we are on board, I should be able to maintain the connection.
He made no promises, she noticed, not that she blamed him. Events were literally spinning out of their control. She pushed back the memory of Eamon and Cadir—the time tracking screen provided a welcome distraction—hello. That’s pretty odd. Which was saying a lot considering all the odd they’d seen together. This screen bore some similarities to the time plain right before time tsunami met big ass bomb, though this was more localized and it appeared there was normal time enclosing the quake zone. Within that zone, fractures fanned out in jagged lines away from a, well, a sort of epicenter. Kind of looks like a cell. Or an amoeba. Overlaying the fracture zone, there appeared to be wavy lines, like a terrain map.
They are time boundaries. Time moves differently in each section.
Wow, that’s—she didn’t know what that was except weird. What is at the epicenter?
His pause felt overlong. We were.
Glad to be out of it then. She studied the dot that was Shan’s ship and the mess between it and the epicenter. Did we cross all that to get aboard ship? A miracle they made it. Not really a surprise it had knocked Shan out or made her molecules hurt. Why didn’t it bother me more?
A long pause, then a surge of excitement from the usually blasé nanite. Your suit is back online.
Kicking Ashe Page 12