She wanted to berate herself for being unkind, but she regarded their panic with scorn. They were only soldiers, and for the most part small-minded, not able to see the bigger picture.
Moving quietly, she began to pack up her own things. The small handmade tent and her various unmatched supplies. Some dried meat and a water bag. When she was nearly finished packing her gear, Kyre approached her with his own pack in hand.
"Mieli, we need to move.” A little older than the other men, he was still younger than her. He'd become leader of their little band by default.
"It was a crash, Kyre, not an attack.” She tried to keep her exasperation out of her voice. “There's no reason to move camp. It may only draw their attention to us when or if they do come."
"We can't take the chance.” His manner was firm, and she cursed his stubbornness.
"The crash was at least two days’ walk from here. Much too far if it was in response to our presence.” She gave him her best superior look. “I will not march to your misguided drummer, Kyre."
He was angry now, but she wasn't worried. His expression reminded her of a petulant child, sure of himself like only someone who was completely wrong can be.
"We move now, Mieli. Now.” With that, he stomped off to the other men. They parted to let him pass through and then turned to follow him. She watched them trundle in line behind him like a mindless herd of t'rams, and Mieli set her jaw.
Their refusal to acknowledge her as the most logical choice for leadership had been a sore spot for the last four months. Mieli was well-educated and several years older than most of these boys. They were happy to let her use her medical skills to heal them, but trusting her with their lives went just that far. They'd looked to Kyre instead, a youth with only the experience of the battlefield to recommend him.
The southern horizon was still aglow with flames, and a sudden thought made her go still. Without the group to slow her down, she could walk to the crash in a day and a half. If she left now, she could be there sometime tomorrow night.
Mieli had no wish to die, but neither did she want to go on living like an animal in the woods, hunted and surviving only on the most visceral level. Life had become intolerable, and Mieli felt driven to do something reckless. If she could get there and maybe meet whoever might come after the crash, there was a chance she could change her future. A skilled doctor, and not without diplomatic skills, she might have something to offer them.
There were risks, death being the most obvious and permanent. Mieli was confident, however, she could manage whatever she found and whatever might happen. Maybe she was wrong, but she was willing to live with that possibility too.
Turning south, she began to walk.
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Chapter Three
At first Jai was only able to feel thick, wet warmth. It was everywhere: on his arms and chest, his stomach, and down one leg. As awareness returned, the warmth faded to cold, and pain began to sing through his nerves. He couldn't move, and his eyes refused to open; he knew he was in a bad way. The pain was becoming unbearable. In a moment of clarity, he realized he was going to die.
Jai knew it with the same certainty he knew his ship had been sabotaged, and that he was not going to get out of this alive. Somewhere, somehow, he'd made a mistake. Someone he'd worked for, or against, had uncovered his identity and paid off his commander. No easy feat, and if he'd been capable of it right then, he might have envied their connections.
He slipped in and out of consciousness. Death was imminent, and as the sun set on him for the second time, he closed his eyes without hope of ever opening them again.
MIELI GASPED IN horror as she saw him for the first time. That anything should have died so terribly, friend or foe, was a grim tragedy. Her walk yesterday had been uneventful, but for most of today, she'd walked in a valley of destruction. Small fires still burned at the edges of the path the crash had formed. The end of the trail was a smoldering shape she had only just reached, and at its center was the mangled body of its pilot.
So far no sign of any other ships had come near, and she had begun to fear that they would not. Curious about what form this alien might be, she approached the dead pilot with quiet steps, angling to see his features. They were swollen, grotesque, and bloody in death. Up closer, the size of him was unbelievable. Monstrously huge, he had the same sort of shape as a man, though wounded and broken to such an extent that she couldn't be sure.
Mieli began to move away, but a sound stopped her. Horrified, she realized it was the pilot. He had uttered a moaning breath so low she'd almost missed it. He was alive but only just barely.
She settled into the debris alongside him and pulled her kit out of her pack. She had precious little in the way of supplies and no knowledge of his species, but Mieli didn't let that stop her. Being a doctor was just about the only thing she was still proud of, and if she had any thoughts about saving him for her own benefit, she acknowledged them to herself without shame.
Morning was a bleary, overcast thing, barely lighting the forest floor. The rising sun behind her, Mieli surveyed her night's work. To move the pilot from the wreckage was impossible, and after she'd cleaned and closed the worst of his wounds, she'd cleared the floor of the small craft. Her small tent had been impractical, so she'd torn the stitching apart and used it as a ceiling. No fire was possible inside, so she cooked and boiled water nearby. Crouched over the inert form of her patient, she critically eyed her handiwork.
The worst of his external injuries had been gashes across his limbs and torso. They'd not been severe enough to puncture organs, at least as far as she could tell. The loss of blood had been extensive, though, coupled with the beating he'd taken. If she was right, his body was badly battered but might heal given time. There was a strong chance there was internal damage, though she refused to consider that he would die.
As for his people, she was starting to think that if they hadn't come by now, they must not be coming at all. She didn't think they were unaware of the crash. Of course, she could see that only one soldier, in one small craft, might not be important enough to retrieve. As ruthless as they'd shown themselves to be on the battlefield, it was reasonable to assume they could be the same among their own.
Hopelessness threatened, and Mieli pushed it stubbornly away. If she could save him, nurse him back to health, there was still a chance for her to make a place for herself in this new world. Part of her felt traitorous and sick at the thoughts that whirled through her mind. All of her concern was on her own comfort and survival. Certainly, her family would be ashamed of her, thinking only of her life when she didn't even know what had become of them.
A small sound from the man at her side brought her gaze into focus. A grim line formed between her brows. Selfishness was all she had. The luxury of worrying about others and biting her nails over their fate was no longer hers to indulge in. There was only now, this moment and this opportunity. There was only her.
Outside the meager shelter, a new day had begun. Mieli lay down next to her patient, lulled into sleep by the even sound of his breathing.
JAI FELT HANDS move over him and touch softly at the painful places on his body. He'd been wounded enough to know the sounds and smells of the hospitals, but he was far too uncomfortable to be in one now. Hospitals were loud, bustling with life and energy. You couldn't feel the pain because they medicated it away. Wounds healed in just a few days instead of weeks and months of natural healing.
Wherever he was, whoever was caring for him, he was not in a hospital, not even a med-station awaiting transport. His body throbbed with pain, and he could feel the damage in a way he'd never experienced. Behind closed eyes, he reviewed the last few memories of the crash.
The force of the impact had been the worst sensation of his life. He would never forget the feeling of shock and the helplessness of it. For the first time he'd felt small, dwarfed by the power around him. Considering how strong he was, even by Tribe standards, it was a
humbling feeling. One he did not care to repeat.
Among his peers, he was a force to be reckoned with. Young, yes, but quickly rising in a military system that rewarded the fiercest, the bravest, and often the cruelest warriors. He'd learned the ropes faster than most, and he climbed them with unsurpassed skill. Jai was on the way to being a commander, and everyone knew it. No one would suspect his mortality could humble him so.
Bits and pieces of his surroundings started to come through, and he turned his attention back to the pain and the soft sounds of his caretaker. After a moment of listening, he tried to open his eyes. They refused. He groaned unwillingly at the pain, and immediately heard the whisper of movement at his side.
"Nai, nos tens'te, nos tens'te.” The voice was gentle, feminine, and definitely not Tribe. Jai felt small hands brush like a stray breeze over the top of his head and across his bound torso. “Ouf ben, ouf ben."
He'd crashed into the forest, and now someone from the surface had him. Whether they meant to heal him, imprison him, or both, he didn't have the energy to fight. Jai let the soft murmurs wash over him and slipped back into darkness.
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Chapter Four
Mieli woke from a dreamless sleep when he began to speak. He was mumbling foreign words and sounds, just a fever dream, probably. It had been almost a week since she'd found him, and his wounds were healing slowly. Although the worst of the swelling had gone down, the deepest injuries were reluctant to knit.
Without any way to communicate and no way to ease his suffering, she'd worried at first that he would thrash or move about. Though he must surely be out of his mind with pain, he bore it well, and not even in sleep did he seem affected. Whether it was his strength of will or that he did not feel pain the way her people did, it was still awe-inspiring to watch him bear it so quietly.
Sometimes she wondered what he thought about, for each day brought longer and longer periods of wakefulness for her patient. Even though he never moved and his face was still so swollen his eyes would not open, she knew when he was awake. Most of the time she was able to regard him strictly as a doctor would, but when he was awake, and despite his injuries, he frightened her.
In the small area where she cared for him, the size and power of his body was menacing. Mieli forced herself to focus only on the task at hand, but there was a dread growing in the back of her mind. If her rescue of him did not earn her mercy, she feared what his people could do to her. Even if they were no bigger than this one, they were fearsome indeed. A cynical voice inside her whispered that her selfishness and willful ways would bring her to a bad end.
Mieli ignored it.
THE LIGHT WAS painful, but Jai soaked up the sensation as reaffirmation of his ability to see. Able at last to open his eyes fully, he blinked as he looked around his surroundings.
For the last four days, he'd been steadily working at opening his eyes more and more. He waited carefully until his keeper was away before practicing. His curiosity over her was far less than the need to keep his progress a secret. If he could downplay his returning health, when the time came to overtake his captors, it would be much easier.
He had never endured healing this way, with only his body's own energy to restore him. Aches racked him, and he chafed at the realization of how long his recovery might still take. Jai thought gratefully of the reinforced bone structure he'd paid for. The War Tribe was kind to its best soldiers, and for those that showed promise and devotion there was plenty of money to go around for physical improvements.
Political assassinations, personal vengeance, and just about any dirty job that needed done were available; Jai had seen a spike in opportunity as the leaders of the Tribe warred among themselves. Top ranking generals and commanders were determined to turn back the “peace” movement. If the General Assembly, the ruling body made up of delegates from every planet, and the councilors who wrote their laws ever managed to get the majority united, it would mean the end of the War Tribe as he knew it. A way of life that had been central to their success for more than a millennium would disappear.
For hundreds of years, the War Tribe had ventured forth into the universe, with no other purpose than the acquisition of more planets, more people, and more resources to further their civilization. The approach had stood them well, but an increasing number of the nonmilitary population were starting a movement for more peaceful tactics. If they had their way, the conquering nature of the War Tribe would end.
Jai had made quite a side career out of political assassinations. He had murdered ambassadors, assembly members, councilors, and even emissaries in his pursuit of power. With the money he had earned, there had been physical enhancements like his unbreakable bones, his bio-vi powered reflexes, and the eye implants that gave him night vision and far-seeing capability. The more he improved himself, the more valuable his work became.
Thank Hai he had enough modifications to withstand this trauma and heal. Now his thoughts were turning to sabotage, because while it was only suspect that his ship had failed, it was damning that no one had come for him.
From outside the ship, he heard the woman. Every day he woke to the sound of her, so close he could sense the warmth of her body in the small shelter she had made for them out of the wreck. He knew by the feel of her when she tended to him that she was ridiculously small. It would be no problem to subdue her when more of his strength returned and he no longer needed her to care for him.
At first, he had been wary that she was not alone. After all, she was a healer. She had to remain close to care for him. The possibility that there were more of her people nearby had been very real. Now, though, he was sure they were alone. She often spoke to him, and while he couldn't understand her words, the emotions were easier to read.
In the beginning, when his waking hours were random and filled with pain, she had tried to soothe him, murmuring the same things over and over. It had gone a long way to helping him begin learning her language. In the Tribe there was one universal language called Tribe Standard, but many hundreds more had survived and were still spoken on their respective planets of origin. Most soldiers spoke several languages and learned more easily.
As he'd healed, her conversation had become more varied. Phrases and familiar words still came in the form of reassurances of his progress, but he had begun to hear loneliness and uncertainty. That she was worried about something, he didn't doubt. What it was, he couldn't even guess. He had his own concerns these days and little time to spare for hers.
Mieli approached the shelter where the man waited. Her steps were heavy, and her legs tired. All day she had hunted, and there was no game to be found. For half a day's walk in any direction, the wildlife was gone. Whether it was the memory of the crash through the forest or the damage it had left, the animals were avoiding the area. Her supplies were almost exhausted, and she had to feed both herself and her patient.
She pulled back the canvas flap of the shelter and climbed over the edge. Her inability to move him meant she had grown accustomed to the cramped quarters. The flying ship must have originally been designed for short trips, because the interior was quite small. With the upper half and one side ripped away, it was just large enough for the man to lie on his back and have about four feet on either side to spare.
Now, weary and depressed, Mieli lay down next to him in her usual spot. The steady sound of his even breaths soothed her, and she thought he must be awake because it wasn't the deep breathing he favored at night. Not for the first time, she wished there were some way she could communicate with him. In a fit of honesty she admitted it wouldn't be to assuage his fears but hers. Without language, and with his eyes still swollen shut, there was no way to ask him the questions burning uppermost in her mind.
Would he help her survive? Was saving his life worth her own?
Her hand pressed to her mouth, Mieli tried to silence the sobs that rose as tears slid down her face. Pity for her own sorry situation and dread for the future chu
rned like acid in her stomach. She wanted out so badly, to sleep on a bed again and live like something more than an animal. Her plan had clearly been a little flawed, but she was running out of options. What-ifs circled futilely through her thoughts, but there were no answers. Finally she surrendered to the despair and cried quietly as the second sun began to set.
JAI KNEW THE moment his rescuer fell asleep. The barely audible sound of her crying had softened to deep, even breaths. Opening his eyes, he could see the faint glow of the fading sunset. He carefully turned his head to the right and looked at the woman for the first time.
She lay on her side, facing him with her head pillowed on her arm. Short hair the color of beaten gold curled gently toward her face. It was the softest face he had ever seen. Her cheeks were rosy and full, and dense lashes just a touch darker than her hair rested on their upper crests. The remainder of her skin was pale peach and appeared so tender he imagined it might bruise just as easily.
Her mouth was full, shaped into a perfect heart. Jai looked down the abbreviated length of her body. She wore only a sleeveless dress; a thin, white shift that stopped at midthigh. Like her face, her form was soft, welcoming even, with its ripe curves and tempting femininity. He had never seen a full-grown woman so small and delicate. In the War Tribe, there must be women like her, but they were safely away from the military service. They were teachers or maybe noncombat nurses or artists.
More often, women like her entered training in delicate duties and were molded into the genteel wives of powerful men. The kind of men that hired him to do their dirty work. Most likely the same sort of men that wanted him dead. There was some kind of irony in the situation, that was certain.
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