Hero

by Cheryl Brooks

"You're damn straight I did," Jack replied over the link. "Your ass is grass, Grekkor. The good guys are gonna win this time."

  Grekkor glanced frantically around the room. The restaurant was filled with rich, influential people, and his bodyguards were all being held at gunpoint. There was no escape.

  Trag caught the desperate look in Grekkor's eyes and made a dive for him, gripping the hand that now held a deadly weapon. The other patrons were screaming as the pistol swung in all directions, blasting the walls and the ceiling before knocking out an enormous light fixture that crashed right in the middle of the dance floor. In the confusion, Micayla darted in behind Grekkor, neutralizing him with a choke hold that soon had him gasping for mercy.

  Driven to his knees, Grekkor released his hold on the weapon, which Trag then tossed aside with distaste.

  "Why don't you just kill me?" Grekkor said, glaring at his captor with ire. "It's what I would do to you."

  "That would make us too much alike," Trag replied, "and I don't think I want to be anything like you." He stood back then and began laughing at the spectacle before him. The bane of his world was nothing but a gasping, red-faced, quivering lump of flesh. "Man, you are so screwed."

  "But I have had my revenge," Grekkor panted. "Your species will not survive. There are too few of you."

  "That's what you think," Trag said with an amused smile. "You just watch us." Glancing around the room, Trag called out: "Are any of you ladies willing to be surrogate mothers to some Zetithian kids? You'd have some really cute kittens, plus you'd be saving an endangered species from extinction. We seem to cross best with Terrans, but I'm sure other species would be compatible." Pausing a moment to grin at Grekkor, he added, "How about it? Any takers?"

  "I will!" shouted one.

  "I'd love to!" shouted another.

  "No you won't," Grekkor seethed. "Because I will hunt you down and kill every last one of you--starting with her."

  Trag's perception of the entire scene slowed to a crawl. Micayla was standing right behind Grekkor, having released her hold on him. He saw Grekkor's fluid movement from sprawled on the floor to a swirling image highlighted by the flash of a blade. Trag realized, too late, that a knife must have fallen from a nearby table during the struggle. It was in Grekkor's hand and time stood still as he plunged it into Micayla's chest.

  Trag was on him before the sound of Micayla's scream died. His arm snaked around the murderer's neck, giving it a quick twist, breaking it with a sharp snap. Killed instantly, Grekkor's nerveless body fell in a heap, pulling Micayla down with it.

  Trag's heart nearly stopped as he watched her fall. "Oh, God, Mick," he sobbed, dropping to his knees at her side. Slipping his arm around her, he lifted her head, cradling her in his arms. "I'm so sorry. I should have gotten to him quicker."

  "You... killed him?" she gasped. The knife protruding from her upper chest made breathing difficult and blood was already staining her shirt.

  "Yes, I did," Trag replied. "I know I shouldn't have, but after he--"

  "Good," she said hoarsely, attempting to smile. "That's my Trag... my hero."

  "Not if I let you die."

  "Doesn't matter," she whispered as her eyelids fluttered shut. "Love you anyway."

  Trag felt as if the whole world had just stopped spinning. "Don't you dare die on me!" he roared. "You promised to stay alive!" He stared down at her inert form, unable to think, unable to reason. The only thought in his head was that he loved her and would probably die without her. He was vaguely aware that a crowd was gathering--diners disrupted from their meals, the occasional Nerik having gone into a hum, Jack's shout of outrage from across the room.

  "Stand aside, stand aside!" Hidar shouted, fluttering his bright, newly molted wings as he passed through the crowd. "I must attend to her!"

  Trag's eyes were bleak as he looked up at the tall Scorillian. "I don't know, Hidar," he said, choking on the words. "I think she's--"

  "Not dead," Hidar said firmly as he crouched beside her.

  Trag watched in horror as Hidar clutched the knife handle in his claw-like hands and began to push the flat side of the blade against the edge of the wound, creating a gap.

  "I didn't think you were supposed to do that with a stab wound."

  "You aren't unless you're a Scorillian," Hidar said. He made an odd, choking sound and then spat into the opening he'd made. His foamy spittle hissed as it made contact with her blood. Then he pulled the blade out slightly and spat on it again before pushing it back in.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Trag shouted.

  Micayla's back arched suddenly and her eyes flew open as she sucked in a huge breath. Her body then began to convulse, and though the seizure only lasted a few seconds, it seemed like hours to Trag.

  "You killed her!" Trag exclaimed as she finally collapsed in his arms.

  "No," said Hidar. "Only time or disease will do that now--or perhaps some other wound."

  "What?"

  "She will recover," Hidar insisted. He said this with such firm conviction that it seemed irrefutable, but Trag still didn't believe it.

  "That's impossible!"

  "No it isn't," someone said, but the voice wasn't Hidar's.

  Trag looked down at Micayla in dismay. He'd never expected to hear her voice again. But he had--unless he was dreaming, and if he was, he never wanted to wake up. He'd thought she was dead, and now, there she was, looking up at him and even trying to smile.

  "Mick?" he whispered. "Are you really--?"

  "Going to live?" she said. "I think so."

  She was looking at him, moving, and breathing, but-- "With a knife stuck in your chest?"

  Hidar's mandibles were clicking with irritation. "Of course she will not have a knife in her chest forever," he said waspishly. "It must stay there for an hour or so and then I will remove it. Take it out before the healant has had enough time to work, and she'll bleed to death."

  "Healant?" Trag echoed. "What the devil is that?"

  Hidar shook his odd, triangular head, displaying his impatience with Trag's ignorance. "Did you never wonder why I was aboard Lerotan's ship more as a cook than a medic--and why I resented your criticism of my cooking?"

  "Well, no," Trag admitted. "Not really--"

  "On Scorillia, I was regarded as an excellent chef," Hidar said. "But not a doctor. It's not like I ever went to medical school."

  "But--"

  "I saved Lerotan's life that way once," he said with a gesture toward Micayla, "and he rewarded me with the position of medic aboard his ship. This ability is innate among Scorillians. It doesn't heal our own wounds, but it works very well on mammals."

  "I didn't know that!" Trag sputtered. "How comeI didn't know that?" He was beyond bewilderment. Glancing around at the curious crowd, he went on, "Did any of you know that?" Receiving only negative responses, he turned back to Hidar. "You Scorillians are only known for spreading the plague!"

  Hidar waved his antennae dismissively, much the way a human would brush aside an insignificant speck of dust with their fingertips. "Unfortunate, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is," Trag said. He still couldn't quite grasp the fact that Micayla wasn't dead or dying. Whether or not she lived or died, she was alive at the moment and there was something he had to say. "I love you, Mick. Promise me you won't ever let anyone stab you again."

  "I'll try not to," Micayla said. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd much rather you didn't die either." She drew in a ragged breath and added, "Don't think I could stand that."

  Trag was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know the answer. After all, he was a big boy; he could take it if she said no. "You said you loved me. I know you probably thought you were dying, but did you mean it?"

  "I love you to pieces, Trag," she whispered with tears in her eyes. "I can't imagine loving anyone else. Promise you won't die on me. Live a very long life and keep me pregnant until I'm too old to do it anymore. I want to have millions of babies that look just like you."

  Tr
ag felt a rush of warmth spread throughout his body, tingling all the way down to his fingers and toes. Tears filled his eyes. "I'll do my best," he promised. "Now that this bastard is dead," he said with a nod toward Grekkor's body, "I don't think we'll have to worry about anyone trying to kill us."

  "Nice feeling, huh?" Micayla said. "Um, did you really mean that part about us getting married?"

  "Sure did," Trag replied. "How about it, Mick? Think you could stand being my mate?"

  "Oh, yeah. I'll do it right now if you like."

  "Doesn't matter," Trag said. "You said yes. That's enough for me."

  Cheers went up through the crowd as Trag kissed her, but he never heard them. Micayla was purring and that was all that mattered to him--all that would ever matter. For now, and for the rest of his life, he would be content with whatever happened. Just as long as Mick was beside him.

  "Ha!" said Jack as she approached along with the rest of the gang. "I knew it would happen! Pay up, Leroy."

  Lerotan looked grim but handed over the credits anyway.

  "Wait a minute," Trag said. "You two had a bet on this?"

  "Leroy was so sure you wouldn't do it after she hissed at you," Jack said with a nod. "Bet me a thousand credits you'd never mate with her--but I knew better. Dammit, Trag, you're a total hottie! She'd be an idiot not to fall in love with you!"

  Trag laughed softly. "Be that as it may, I fell for her first--at least, I think I did."

  Tisana stepped up just then, nudging Jack in the ribs. "Told you so," she murmured.

  "Don't tell me you had a bet on that too?" Trag exclaimed.

  "Yes, and she now owes me two thousand credits," Tisana said with a nod toward Jack.

  "I do not!" Jack insisted.

  "Double or nothing?" Tisana chided. "Remember?"

  "Oh, yeah, right," Jack admitted. "Came out behind on that deal, didn't I?" Jack may have been down a thousand credits, but she was still smiling.

  "So, how did you know where to find us?" Trag asked. "We've been trying to contact you ever since we landed but haven't had any luck."

  "Who wouldn't know?" Jack retorted. "When we didn't hear from you, we came on ahead. Soon as we landed all we heard about was some fancy reception Grekkor was planning. After that, it was only a matter of asking a few questions and here we are!"

  "Guess you didn't need me and Mick after all," Trag said.

  "Nonsense," Jack insisted. "The way you handled Grekkor? It was downright masterful, Trag! I doubt if anybody else could have gotten him to spill his guts like that. You pissed him off good and proper."

  Trag winced. "My claim to fame?"

  "Something like that," Jack agreed.

  "Too bad it almost got Mick killed," he said.

  "'Almost' being the operative word there," Jack said heartily. "Good thing we had Hidar with us, though. He's even better than Tisana!"

  "Want to trade medics?" Lerotan suggested.

  "No way!" Jack protested. "I'm never giving up Tisana."

  "Oh, and why is that?" Lerotan asked.

  "I... well, I'm pretty sure she's better at treating humans for one thing," Jack said hesitantly. "I mean, how often have any of us been stabbed? And for another, I've got an idea she's a better cook." Jack looked at Trag expectantly. "Am I right?"

  "I'm not saying a word!" Trag said as he held Micayla tightly in his arms. "As far as I'm concerned, Hidar can do all the cooking he wants. I'll never pick on him again!"

  Chapter 27

  "Okay, so how did you know we were coming?" Trag asked Ilegret as several Neriks with some sort of official insignia on their tunics carried Grekkor's body away. "Did Jack tell you, or what?"

  "Uh, actually, it was us," Orlat said. "We had a little stake in this too. Not that we didn't want to help you or anything, it's just that Veluka is our cousin."

  "You're kidding me, right?"

  Slurlek shook his head. "No. He stole the ship from us."

  "Borrowed," said Orlat. "The three of us had joint ownership of it."

  "But he encoded a message on the ship for us to help you out," Slurlek went on after a brief quelling glance at Orlat. "Not that you needed any help. You were doing just fine all on your own."

  "If that isn't just like Veluka!" Jack declared. "He's got an angle for every deal there is! He got you guys--and Grekkor--off his case in one fell swoop."

  "So, where is Veluka, anyway?" Micayla asked. "Still on Darconia?"

  Jack shook her head. "No clue. He'll turn up again somewhere, though. Mark my words."

  "Uh, Hidar," Micayla began. "How long did you say I had to keep this knife in me?"

  "About an hour," Hidar replied. "I will put more healant in the wound to make sure before I remove it."

  Jack was shaking her head. "Spitting in a knife wound to heal it," she muttered. "Never in all my born days..."

  Hidar turned to Jack, his antennae waving gently. "You have seen for yourself that it was the appropriate treatment," he said stiffly. "But she should not be moved."

  Since she was lying in Trag's arms, Micayla really didn't have a problem with that, but her butt was getting numb.

  "No problem," said Trag, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. "I'll sit here with her all night if I have to."

  "That will not be necessary," Hidar said.

  "Hidar?" Micayla said gently. "Thank you for saving my life."

  "Make that four lives," Cat said with complete confidence. "And yes, Micayla, there are three of them, but very young as yet." He paused, scrutinizing her closely. "You have been feeling... strange... for the past day or so?"

  "Been dizzy ever since we landed," Micayla replied, "that is, until Trag and I..." Glancing up at Trag, she felt heat flood her face, in spite of the fact that everyone already knew what they'd been up to. "I guess that was significant, huh?"

  Cat nodded. "That is a sign of fertility when a Zetithian female is with the right man." Reaching out to shake Hidar's claw, he said, "You have our never-ending gratitude, my friend."

  Hidar's antennae were beating so fast he seemed to lift off the floor for a moment. "You are welcome," he said. Glancing around the room, he said, "Shall we have lunch now?"

  Having noticed what was on the plates of the other patrons, Micayla had an idea that Hidar would probably lose a wing if he were to eat any of it. "Wait, Hidar," she said. "See if you can reach into my pack." Shifting sideways against Trag's chest, she added, "There's some stuff in there I think you'll like a lot better."

  Hidar reached into her pack with his claw-like hands. His wings fluttered in excitement as he read the label. "Oh, my Maker's Wings!" he exclaimed. "White Castles!"

  "What's the matter with the food here?" Rodan said, scratching his bald head. "Looks great to me."

  "Which is why none of us should eat here," Trag whispered in Micayla's ear. "You probably shouldn't eat anything with that knife in your chest either."

  "I hadn't planned on it," Micayla said. She shifted her weight slightly to relieve some of the pressure on her hip. "This feels really weird."

  "Does it still hurt?"

  "Oddly enough, it doesn't, but I feel like I'm only using part of that one lung to breathe."

  "Well, just rest easy then," he said. "It'll be over soon."

  Micayla tried to take a deeper breath and immediately decided it was a bad idea. "I probably shouldn't talk either, but I just wanted to say... I saw what you did, Trag. I've never seen anyone do that. I mean, I've seen it demonstrated, but never actually--"

  "Don't think about it too much," Trag said quickly. "I just reacted, that's all."

  Taking a quick glance around the room, Micayla saw no evidence that a SWAT team was about to pounce on him. "Obviously no one is going to throw you in jail for it. In fact, I'll be surprised if they don't give you a medal."

  "Whatever," Trag said with a shrug. "At the time I wasn't thinking about anything but what he'd done to you."

  "He deserved it whether he'd killed me or not," Micayla said. "We
all know that. They all know that too," she added with a nod toward the throng of beings of all kinds that had gathered.

  The babble of excited voices had grown to a dull roar as the story was being retold from a hundred different points of view. It was anyone's guess as to how the official report would read, but since the sklarth of Rechred had been sitting at the same table, it was safe to say that at least one eyewitness would get it right. Of course, having Grekkor confess and then try to murder Micayla had been pretty damning evidence against him. Ilegret was already proclaiming Trag a hero--and Hidar right along with him.

  "Never saw anything like it!" Ilegret was saying. "We must have more of you Scorillians visit here--perhaps to remain as healers." Ilegret was patting Hidar on the back like an old friend while Hidar's wings rustled with pleasure.

  "What do you know?" Trag muttered. "Hidar might actually get laid because of this."

  Micayla bit her lip. "Don't make me laugh," she gasped as the knife jiggled in her chest. "Bad idea!"

  "Sorry," Trag said contritely. "But it's true."

  She felt him move behind her. "What are you doing?"

  "Just looking around," he replied. "Speaking of getting laid, take a look at Leroy and Windura."

  Micayla turned her head slightly to the right just in time to see Windura, who had apparently been waiting outside, take a flying leap into Lerotan's arms. The kiss that followed should have set the nearest tablecloth on fire.

  "That turned out rather well, didn't it?" Trag commented.

  "Sure did," Micayla agreed. "Think she'll reform him?"

  "I doubt it. Something tells me Leroy will be playing with guns forever."

  "Toy guns, maybe," she said. There was no question that the two of them were lovers, and what the results would be... "They should have some interesting-looking children."

  "Mmm, so will we," said Trag. "Ours will be cuter, though."

  "Well, if they're even half as cute as the rest of the gang's kids, I'll be happy," Micayla declared. "They're all adorable. Can we have--?"

  "You can have as many as you like," Trag purred. "Don't know about that million kittens thing, though. I might have been exaggerating slightly."