The Phoenix nodded and loped ahead.
“And you’re in such condition to take any kind of guard position at all,” Sascha said. “And no, don’t you try to stop leaning on me. Let’s just get through this together.”
Hirianthial managed a faint smile. “Far be it from me to argue with a Harat-Shar.”
“You got that right,” Sascha said.
Together they limped after the others. The slower pace gave Hirianthial time to assess his condition and call himself lucky: other than the bruises and incidental slashes he’d gotten in the fight, he was intact. His biggest problem remained the weakness he’d inherited from his battle with the mental-wound, and that would resolve itself with enough sleep.
“You’re so light,” Sascha said. “You’ve got to eat more.”
“It’s on the agenda,” Hirianthial said, glad enough of the warm density of the Harat-Shar and the softness of the fur that cushioned the edges of the man’s body as they bumped together down the road. That Sascha’s mind was relentlessly focused on their situation helped diffuse the impact of his thoughts; all things considered, it was the most comfortable way Hirianthial could imagine being half-dragged down a road.
“It’s so quiet. You’d think there’d be someone around,” Irine said.
“I’m just glad there aren’t,” Reese said. Her aura had a sullen gray flatness.
“You think Fleet destroyed all the barns?”
That piqued Sascha’s interest strongly enough that Hirianthial ended up looking off the road with the Harat-Shar. He followed the tigraine’s series of thoughts from the observation of the pattern of destruction to the memories of similar constructs.
“They were hangars,” Sascha called forward.
“For planes?” Irine said.
“That would explain the overhead fight,” Reese said. “I hope Fleet made out okay.”
“I’m sure they did,” Irine said.
The two continued to talk, the nervous chatter Hirianthial associated with the lingering effects of an extreme adrenal dump. He ignored it and concentrated on walking... until a whisper at the edge of his perceptions brought him fully alert.
“What is it?” Sascha said in a low voice.
“Get Bryer,” Hirianthial replied, standing on his own.
Sascha trotted ahead. “Hey Bryer... you go be Long-Tall-and-White’s leaning post for a while. I’ll take the front.”
The Phoenix padded back and stood beside Hirianthial as Sascha led the three on. Then he turned his head to the Eldritch. “Trouble.”
“Feels like five people,” Hirianthial said. “They’re definitely looking for us.”
Bryer stretched his fingers and the sun flashed off his claws. “Five. Easy kill.” His crest flared. “You will kill, yes?”
“They want most of us dead and the rest of us in chains,” Hirianthial said. “And they’re armed to do it. Yes, I’ll kill them.”
Bryer nodded, then scanned the road. “Little cover.”
“We can crouch behind the brush,” Hirianthial said. “They’re not expecting an ambush. If we let them pass us and keep going it shouldn’t take long.”
Bryer eyed him. “Sneaky.”
Hirianthial smiled. “We’ll be outnumbered at least two to one and I’m barely conscious. They’ll have a fair enough fight.”
The Phoenix dipped his head in assent and ducked behind the shrubs. Hirianthial joined him. The brushy vegetation lining the road was barely tall enough to hit his knee and its open branches seemed to invite investigation, but the land was sear and yellow, not far from the color of Bryer’s feathers. By now Hirianthial imagined himself a grimy ivory. The gouges and rents in Bryer’s clothing broke up the red hide, resulting in unanticipated camouflage.
Down the road came five pirates, looking far scruffier than the guards in the building they’d fled. They were armed with rifles and their own seething anger, and their certainty that their quarry ran before them blinded them. They strode past the shrubs.
“Now,” Hirianthial said.
Bryer flung himself from the leaves and knocked down one man, ripping out his throat with a clawed foot before any of them even realized they’d been ambushed. Hirianthial followed the Phoenix, though he dispatched his first man with less drama. The second bashed him in the ribs with the butt of his rifle, but as Hirianthial fell he grabbed the strap and took the man down with him. Rolling onto him he employed the dagger, which by now had become glued into his hand.
Bryer whistled and Hirianthial ducked, pressing his head against the dead man’s chest. The blow meant to knock him unconscious missed. The Phoenix’s swipe snuffed that man from Hirianthial’s senses, leaving all their attackers dead.
“I don’t think I can get up,” Hirianthial said hoarsely, propping himself on top of his last victim with both hands. The palm on the dusty ground stuck, but the one sealed to the dagger slid, dropping him onto the body.
Bryer chuffed and grasped his arm. “Done. Must move.”
Except the world wasn’t just distant now, it was rocking. Hirianthial tried to lift his head, which seemed heavier—perhaps the blood soaking through his hair? But he decided quickly that moving his head made the vertigo more intense.
“Did well,” Bryer said. “Mind being carried?”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Hirianthial said, and lost his grip on everything.
“Is he okay?” Reese asked, stunned.
“Fine,” Bryer said.
“That’s the first human thing I’ve heard you say about him,” Irine said.
“Oh shut up,” Reese snapped. Bryer came to a halt. Hirianthial was slung over one of his shoulders, unmoving. His sleeves and the lower half of his hair were drenched with darkening red. “Is he awake?”
“No,” Bryer said.
“At least he waited until we were almost at the ship to need rescue,” Reese said.
“For the sake of Angels, boss!” Sascha exclaimed.
“Well look at him!”
Bryer grunted, then flung something at Reese. She jumped back as the dagger bit into the ground, quivering at her feet. Blood slimed the hilt, the cross-guard and what she could see of the blade.
“Killed the people following us,” Bryer said, then as if realizing the ambiguity of the statement, “He did.”
“Damn,” Irine said. “I thought he was about to topple over.”
“He was,” Sascha said.
“If there were people following us, we’d better get moving,” Reese said.
“No more,” Bryer said. “He’s unconscious.”
“Exactly,” Reese said. “He won’t be awake to tell us about any more of them.”
“No,” Bryer said. “He’s unconscious now.”
“I noticed,” Reese growled.
“I think he means Hirianthial would be awake if he thought we’d need him,” Sascha said. “But you might be too stubborn to notice that, well, let’s see, he’s saved our tails continuously since he led us out of the building back there?”
“If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t have needed saving!” Reese said. “In case you don’t remember, it was breaking him out of jail that got us involved in this mess!”
Sascha stared at her, both ears flattened.
“Let’s just keep going,” Irine said. “We’re almost to the ship.”
Bryer huffed and strode past them. Reese started after him until Sascha moved into her way.
“What?”
“You’re forgetting something,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Reese said.
“The dagger,” Sascha said. “His dagger. The one he’s been using to cut people up to keep them from killing us. Reminder: ‘us’ includes ‘you.’ Go get it.”
“I’m sure he has others,” Reese said.
Sascha stepped forward until he was almost nose to nose with her. “Boss, I don’t know what the battlehells is wrong with you. But you’re not going to leave a man’s weapon beh
ind just because you feel put out by him dropping unconscious after spending himself to save our lives.”
Reese stepped back, astonished, but Sascha had already turned his back on her and started after the others. When she didn’t move, he said over his shoulder, “If you’re feeling squeamish, use a blood-damned towel.”
Reese grabbed her braids and suppressed her urge to scream. She didn’t want to pick up any dagger. She didn’t want to think about Hirianthial, or what they’d just been through, or the fact that she’d somehow hired two people who could cut through groups of armed bad guys like knives through butter. She was still in one piece, still moving and still functioning, and asking for more was asking for something she had no capacity for. But the look in Sascha’s eyes... she couldn’t go back to the ship and face that look again. She squinted at the dagger standing upright in the ground.
Forced herself to touch the sticky handle.
Forced herself to pull it from the earth, crumbs of dirt falling from the blade. A layer of soil coated the tacky parts of the metal, blunting the impact of the amount of blood on it.
So far she’d gotten him to haul boxes with his surgeon’s hands and now kill people with them. It couldn’t get much worse than that. If he could forgive this whole episode, maybe nothing else would faze him. Assuming, of course, that she even cared about his forgiveness. Assuming that he’d even stay around after all this.
If she wanted him to.
Could she be any more confused?
Shuddering, Reese stripped off her vest and wrapped it around the dagger, then ran after the others. She caught up with them as they reached the perimeter set up by the Fleet officers. One of them hailed her.
“Captain Eddings! You all made it back safely! We’re glad to see it.”
“Thanks,” Reese said as they took down the section so they could cross. “What’s the word from your side of the fight?”
“Things are really hot in the air right now,” the man said. “Captain NotAgain recommends you remain on the ground until he sends a signal. Apparently the pirates used this place to repair and rebuild ships. We weren’t expecting quite so many of them.”
“I have absolutely no problem staying here,” Reese said. “In fact, I’m sure we could all use a shower and a long nap.”
“Sounds good,” the man said. “We’ll keep watch out here.”
“Thanks,” she said, and followed the rest of her crew into the cargo bay. She set the dagger down on one of the crates. Kis’eh’t was already hugging the twins, but the Glaseah broke off to engulf Reese in an embrace of her own. “Aksivah’t! When I saw those ships go by overhead I thought for sure—”
“We’re okay,” Reese said, and hugged Kis’eh’t back. “We really are. I don’t know how, but we are.”
“The twins told me Bryer and Hirianthial saved the day,” Kis’eh’t said. “That was before Bryer took Hirianthial off to his quarters. Are you all really unscathed? I’m no doctor but bandaging scratches I can do.”
With the Glaseah’s arms looped around her waist and the smell of the woman’s clean soft hair in Reese’s nose, all the fear and tension suddenly broke loose. Reese quivered, then shocked herself by choking on a sob. Kis’eh’t drew her into a tighter hug and said nothing as she started crying. Even the twins were silent as they approached and added their arms to the embrace until the space they enclosed grew humid and started smelling of wet fur.
“Ugh,” Reese said, pulling back and rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I can’t believe you, Boss,” Sascha said gently. “You get threatened, manhandled, shot at and chased and you have no idea what got into you? I’d say mortal terror got into you.”
“But it’s over now,” Reese said, fighting the return of the tightness in her chest. “I should be happy.”
“And you are,” Irine said. “Your body’s just confused on how to show it.” Her ears drooped. “I could use a good cry myself.”
Reese dabbed at the inside corners of her eyes. “Let me guess. Harat-Shar cry by hiding in locked closets with their brothers.”
Irine grinned. “Sex isn’t our answer to every question.”
“Just most of them,” Sascha said.
Reese chuckled despite herself. “I need to wash my face. And my body.”
“And sleep,” Kis’eh’t said, squeezing her shoulder. “Go rest, Reese. We’ll take care of things.”
After all this they were still willing to stick with her. Reese couldn’t trust her voice, so she nodded and slipped into the quiet of the corridors. By the time she reached her room she’d calmed herself enough to feel the weight of the fatigue that dragged at her body. Washing her face and hands in her bathroom seemed a ridiculous luxury. Her wrists beneath the tap trembled.
Reese stripped. The bead camera had somehow remained affixed to her collar; she carefully removed it and set it aside. Then she examined herself for damage and found nothing more than a few tender bruises and one or two cuts—how she’d gone into a pirate lair and come out again with so little to show for it escaped her, but she gave fervent thanks for it and took a very long shower. If she cried with her hands full of soap, the steam did a good job of hiding it.
Not long after, she pulled herself into her hammock and snuggled into the blankets and pillows, expecting and finding Allacazam among them. The Flitzbe asked no questions, though she sensed him assessing her condition.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Thanks for asking.”
And then she snuffed the lights and slept.
“You awake, Reese?”
“I am now,” she said groggily, twisting in her hammock to fumble for the intercom.
“Not awake enough, I guess,” Irine said with a laugh. “I’m at the door.”
Reese squinted into the light. “I see. Now. I see now. What is it?”
“Captain NotAgain asked to see you,” Irine said. “He’s at the campus. The Fleet folk are standing by to drive you there.”
“Already?” Reese asked, scrubbing at her face.
“It’s been five hours, believe it or not,” Irine said. “Do you need help dressing?”
“From a Harat-Shar?” Reese asked. “I might not get there until tomorrow.”
Irine laughed and wiggled her hips. “Why, Captain! Are you flirting with me?”
“Yes. No. I’m asleep. Get out!”
The tigraine chortled and let the door close. Reese grumbled all the way out of her hammock, but as she zipped up her shirt she realized she was smiling. The smile persisted as she rummaged for the camera and tucked it into her pocket.
“Guess that’s how they start getting under your skin,” she said, petting Allacazam on the way out. The Flitzbe agreed with the image of a smug cat sprawled in the sun.
Outside the sun had set, obscuring the horizon Reese had found so distressing. She sat in the back of the kestrel the Fleet officers had waiting and stared at the twinkling stars scattered across the firmament. The wind blowing past her ears felt good for once, and the cool air reminded her of the temperature in the Earthrise, though with the novelty of being maintained outside without aid. She listened with partial attention to the banter of the men driving the ground-flier—something about whether the last alcohol they’d tried matched the superior product they’d found on some colony world—and relaxed into her own skin.
No one was shooting at her or threatening her and the sky on a planet was beautiful. She closed her eyes and let her head dip back against the rest and memorized the feel of the wind on her cheeks.
By night the pirate compound was an ugly place, and the giant lamps the Fleet personnel had erected didn’t help. The glaring light exposed the debris from the fight. Walking around some of the shattered buildings, Reese was thankful they’d fled when they did. From the look of things it had gotten much worse after they’d gone.
“Ah, Captain Eddings!” NotAgain was standing near a landed fighter, a data tablet in hand. “I’m glad to se
e you well.”
“I’m glad to be well, believe me,” Reese said, taking his proffered hand and covering it with hers. “Did you get what you hoped for?”
“All that I hoped for and more,” NotAgain said. “You and your crew did superb work, Captain. In fact, I think it’s fairly likely you’ll all receive a Copper Sickle for it.”
“A what?” Reese asked.
He laughed. “You might not have heard of it. It’s one of the few civilian citations given by Fleet. It’s quite an honor.”
“Wow,” Reese said, cheeks warming. “That’s... unexpected.”
NotAgain grinned. “Don’t look so pole-axed, Captain. You’ve all earned one several times over.” He shook his head. “As it is, you’ll be one of the few people to have earned one and still be upright afterwards. You were damned lucky to have such good back-up.”
Reese nodded. “I meant to thank you for that. The weapons, the personnel—”
He laughed. “I wasn’t talking about them. I meant your bodyguards. You should have told me you had an Eye-trained Phoenix. Though I doubt you could have known your Eldritch would hold his own so well either.”
“An... Eye-trained Phoenix?” Reese asked.
“You didn’t know?” NotAgain’s brows lifted. “Count yourself lucky, then. As I understand it, most of the Phoenix you meet off-world are Eye-worshippers, but few of them get far enough ‘long in their meditative practices to get to the physical training. I hear it’s rigorous... takes a really well-placed palmer shot to the head to put them down, or significant injury. Maybe you could find out more about how they do it?”
“From Bryer?” Reese laughed. “Not likely.”
NotAgain grinned. “They do tend to be quiet. Keep him around, though, Captain. He’s the one who told us how to find Surapinet, though it took our engineers to decode the information. He got a message to us that Surapinet was in a flier that sounded disharmonious in the high notes. Seems an overpowered engine emits an unpleasant combination of sounds in the ultrasonic range—once we sifted the data for that we found him easily.”
“It sounds like something he’d say,” Reese said. She shuddered. “I’m glad you caught him.”
Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) Page 37