The two boys stepped into the fragile-looking harnesses without a moment’s hesitation, somehow managing not to trip over the straps as they walked with Brak toward the door.
Dartula stared after them. “They’re more likely to be killed from a fall than be recaptured.”
“Hey, at least they haven’t lost their sense of adventure,” Larry said as he emerged from the stairwell. “That’s the lot of them,” he said. “Now all we have to do is get everyone back to the ship.”
Althea looked at the Norludian girl. “Any idea how many monkeys there are?”
“Ninety-eight,” was her prompt reply. Following a derisive snort from a Twilanan girl whose curled tusk looked more like something off a unicorn than a rhinoceros, which was the normal configuration, she added, “It’s quite boring being locked up in here. We’ve nothing better to do than count the monkeys.”
Still marveling at the resilience of the young, Althea studied the remaining children until she spotted a likely candidate for Glyssia to carry. The ears of a tiny Rutaran boy pricked up when she pointed at him. “Think you could hang onto Glyssia while she’s flying?”
“You bet I can!” Scampering over to the Scorillian woman, he climbed onto her back and looped his long arms around her thorax. Although Rutarans had bodies like chimpanzees, the snowy-white fleece on their heads was more like something off a sheep. While this was true of the average Rutaran, this kid had hair that curled into black dreadlocks that actually dragged along the ground. His ears were also longer than the norm, being donkey-length rather than piglike. “Okay, Glyssia!” he shouted. “Let’s go!”
After Keplok cleared them for takeoff, Glyssia scurried through the open doorway. She paused only a second or two to unfurl her wings before soaring off into the night.
“Okay. That’s four of you gone. Only nine more to go,” Larry said as he looked over the group. “The speeder only seats four, but some of you guys are small enough to double up.” He glanced at Dartula. “You still game to fly it?”
With a defiant lift of her chin, she replied, “Certainly.”
Althea didn’t relish being the one to choose which six kids would go out in the speeder.
Fortunately, Larry had a better idea. “Which of you can run the fastest?”
Four hands shot up immediately, one of them belonging to a Nerik boy. His eyes were typical for his kind—large white ovals with pupils and no iris—but the shiny scales covering his entire body were multicolored instead of the usual black.
Larry stopped in front of him. “If Neriks can make themselves invisible, how did they ever catch you?”
The boy’s pupils dilated, turning almost the entire surface of each eye black. “I was asleep or they wouldn’t have.”
“Gotcha.” He studied the group for a moment. “Okay, the three tallest are coming with us. The rest of you go with Dartula in the speeder.”
Althea might’ve expected a few protests or whines, but there were none. “That’s the kids taken care of. What are we going to do with the ninety-eight Guardians?”
“They will follow me,” Keplok said in a tone that discouraged any arguments. “They can move very quickly.”
“Through the jungle, yes, but across an open plain?” Althea didn’t bother to add the part about being chased by a gang of irate, heavily armed amphibians.
Keplok checked the street once more. “The fire is almost out. We should leave now.”
As they began filing out of the building, it became apparent that while a light stun from a Nedwut rifle might take down a Palorkan easily enough, their recovery period was inconveniently short.
“They’re waking up,” Dartula cried as she raced toward the speeder. “Hurry, children! Hurry!”
The assortment of youngsters might not have understood every word she said, but they obviously knew an angry Palorkan when they saw one. They sped across the street ahead of the groggy kidnappers like a bunch of frightened rabbits. Dartula bumped into the cloaked speeder, reached inside to disengage the cloak, and then motioned for the children to get in. Once they were all crammed inside, she slid into the pilot’s seat and closed the canopy.
Seconds later, the engine fired up, and the speeder disappeared, leaving behind six visibly puzzled Palorkans.
“She’s going to fly it manually,” Larry whispered. “I hope to Hektat she knows what she’s doing.”
“She is my glorious, resourceful, intelligent mate,” Keplok said. “She will not fail.”
“Yeah, well, we might fail if we don’t get moving.” Larry pointed toward the end of the street away from the bonfire. “May I suggest we go that way?”
“In a moment.” Leveling his rifle, Keplok took out four of the kidnappers with a wide stun beam, but the two he missed were already shouting for help.
“Too late,” Larry said as the crowd that had been fighting the fire started running toward them, brandishing even more weapons than usual.
Althea grabbed the hand of the Aquerei boy and ran.
Pulse beams bounced all around them as they sped down the dusty street. She had no idea why the beams kept missing them and was damned if she’d slow down enough to find out. Reaching the end of the street, she turned left and started across the plain.
Larry and the Nerik boy caught up with them moments later, followed by Keplok and a Kitnock girl whose cone-shaped head was a significant deviation from the standard cylindrical heads of her kind. A few of the Guardians were still clinging to Keplok, but most had taken the initiative and were racing past Larry and Althea in droves.
Larry fired a random blast over his shoulder. “I’ll say this for the little critters. They really can run.”
“They don’t know where they’re going,” Althea gasped. She did her best to form a picture of the Stooge and its location in her mind and that food, shelter, and freedom awaited them there. Then she sent it outward, hoping the Guardians would understand the telepathic message.
A glance at Keplok explained why the pulse beams kept missing them. How he was doing it, she didn’t bother to ask, but he seemed to sense when any beams came too close and was deflecting them with his sword.
“Holy Hektat!” she yelled. “He’s like Darth Vader with a freakin’ lightsaber.”
“I am having…visions,” Keplok replied as he instinctively deflected several more beams in rapid succession.
“Apparently, the Zetithian gods are on our side,” Larry remarked. “Nice to know someone’s looking out for us.”
Althea really hated to look back, but she did it anyway. “The Guardians aren’t the only ones who can run fast. That mob is gaining on us.”
“I cannot hold them off forever,” Keplok said.
“I know,” Larry said. “We need to slow them down.” He looked at Althea. “I hate to ask this, but you know what you need to do.”
“Yeah.” She let go of the Aquerei boy’s hand. “You kids follow the monkeys. They should know where to go. We’ll catch up soon.”
The two brothers exchanged glances. “Now?” Keplok asked.
“Now,” said Larry.
On the word, all three of them stopped and turned. Larry opened fire with his Nedwut rifle, stunning several of the Palorkan mob. Unfortunately, the remainder kept right on coming. Keplok was out in front, deflecting beams right and left, but Althea knew their pursuers had more than pulse weaponry. Once they were in range, projectile weapons were a distinct—and possibly fatal—possibility.
“We’re barely slowing them down,” Larry yelled.
“It’s okay,” Althea shouted. “I got this.”
Shooting fireballs at a bonfire was one thing; aiming them at living beings was another. The alternative would be painful, but she figured Palorka could take one more wound, and she wasn’t about to let those scaly creatures hurt Larry.
She held up her hands, focused on the o
pen plain that lay between them and their adversaries, drew in a breath, and exhaled sharply as she thrust her hands forward.
Within seconds, the enemy’s angry shouts gave way to cries of terror, but Althea couldn’t see the havoc she’d created. Excruciating pain surged up inside her, blacking out her vision as it split her mind apart.
The last scream she heard was her own.
Chapter 27
With a grinding crack, a wide chasm opened up at the feet of the Palorkan mob. Heat exploded from down below, whether from Althea’s fireball or a volcano that had been on the brink of erupting, Larry couldn’t have said. Regardless of its source, the lava spewing into the night sky stopped their pursuers in their tracks.
He let out a cry of his own as Althea screamed and crumpled to the ground to lie like a broken doll on the dusty plain.
Rushing to her side, he scooped her up in his arms. Whether she’d been hit by a pulse blast or suffered an empathic episode didn’t matter. Either way, he would save her or die trying.
“Keep going!” he shouted to the children who’d stopped to stare in horror at the chaotic scene. Cradling Althea against his chest, he started running.
“That will not stop them for long,” Keplok said as he hurried toward them. “They will soon find a way around the ends of the rift.”
Larry had an idea that chasing after anyone who could do what Al had just done was suicidal, but there was no accounting for stupidity. “We need air support.” He fumbled for his combadge. “Brak! Where are you?”
“On my way, Captain,” Brak replied. “Dartula and the other children are safe. Keep moving.”
Larry never saw Brak flying overhead, but the explosions echoing behind them were proof that the Scorillian had stashed several grenades in his bandoliers.
The ship was now in sight. What the onlookers from the other vessels thought of the horde of monkeys, exotic children, and Zetithians running past them, Larry didn’t know and didn’t care as long as they stayed out of the way.
“We’re almost there, Brak,” Larry yelled over the comlink. “Head back to the ship.” His muscles screamed in protest, the dusty air grating his throat raw and burning his lungs. He kept on running, faltering twice, before beginning the last grueling sprint up the gangplank. “Friday,” he gasped. “Are we ready for takeoff?”
“We are, Captain,” the computer replied. “Closing the main hatch now. The hangar bay is open, awaiting the return of our navigator.”
The last time Brak had flown into the hangar bay had been on Orchus Five when a swarm of giant predatory birds seemed to think he looked tasty. Not surprisingly, on a subsequent visit to that world, Brak refused to leave the ship.
After this trip, Larry fully intended to join his mother in her refusal to visit Palorka ever again.
He laid Althea on the nearest sofa in the lounge on the main deck. Her beautiful face was pale and smudged with dirt from where she’d fallen. She’d suffered no wound that he could see, but her pulse was slow, and if she was breathing, he couldn’t tell.
Dartula touched his arm. “Is she alive?”
“Just barely,” he replied. “I should never have asked her to do that. I knew what it could do to her.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Larry. If anyone is to blame for her loss, it is Keplok and me. We asked too much of you.” She grasped Althea’s seemingly lifeless hand. “What happened to her? You sounded as if you knew.”
“As an empath, she can feel the emotions of others,” he replied. “Her connection to earth allows her to—” He choked as his own emotions threatened to overcome him.
“Feel a planet’s pain?” Dartula’s tone and expression were appropriately incredulous as he nodded. “Oh my.”
“Our navigator is now aboard,” Friday announced. “Hangar bay is secure.”
“Go fly the ship,” Dartula said gently. “I will take care of Althea.”
“If she’d been stabbed or shot, Brak could heal her by spitting on the wound.” Larry shook his head. “Don’t know what to do for something like this.”
Dartula actually smiled. “Are you forgetting that she’s Zetithian?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.” Nor had he forgotten that Zetithians could recover from almost any illness or injury simply by going to sleep while their bodies healed themselves. Sometimes that sleep lasted hours, sometimes days or weeks, but her injury had doubtless been to her brain. Would she be the same Althea when she awoke? Would she still love him? Would she still be his mate?
“Captain, the hostile elements are approaching the area.” The urgency in Friday’s voice was as unusual as her annoyance with Keplok had been. “Immediate liftoff is advised.”
“I’m on it.” Larry rose to his feet, not bothering to mask the weariness in his tone. As captain of the Stooge, he was responsible for the welfare of his passengers and crew—which now numbered over a hundred. Having come this far, he couldn’t fail them now. Not even when all he really wanted to do was remain with Althea until she awoke and smiled at him again.
* * *
Brak was already at his station when Larry arrived on the bridge. “I have plotted a course for Rhylos, Captain. Awaiting your orders.”
“Thanks, Brak. You really saved our hides back there.”
“No problem. I already owe you a debt I can never repay.”
Larry strapped himself into the pilot’s seat. “Dunno how you managed to work that out, but we can talk about it later.” For the first time in his life aboard the Stooge, he actually had to announce, “Liftoff commencing. Everybody hold tight until we’ve cleared the atmosphere.” He had no idea where the children or the Guardians were. As captain, he probably should’ve at least made some suggestions, but he’d left it up to the Duo to sort out the details. For now, anyway.
This would normally be the time to sigh with relief after a very close call. Only he wasn’t relieved. He was more concerned than he’d ever been before. The woman he loved lay unconscious. Logic told him that Dartula’s assessment was correct. Althea would remain in the restorative sleep for a time, and then she would awaken, and everything would be fine. They would drop their passengers off on Rhylos, he would do his best to explain things to Celeste, and then he and Al would live happily ever after.
Unfortunately, at the moment, nothing appeared to be quite that simple.
As the Stooge gained altitude, he refocused his attention on the ship. He could handle a firefight in space if necessary. However, because his ship was faster than most, their best bet was to outrun their pursuers, if indeed anyone could launch quickly enough to pose a threat.
“Any other ships lifting off?”
“None, Captain,” Brak replied. “I believe we have made a clean getaway.”
“I’ll believe that when we land on Rhylos.” Then he remembered they weren’t equipped to feed their new passengers, let alone house them adequately. “Speaking of which, we’ll need to resupply before we get there.”
“I don’t believe that will be necessary, Captain,” Brak said. “At least, not in the immediate future.”
“What did you do? Steal a load of monkey food?”
“No. The Guardians would appear to be extremely fond of cheeseburgers.” He gave his left eyestalk a delicate scratch. “I must say, their knowledge of the ship’s layout was…uncanny. They even seemed to know where the stasis unit was located.”
Larry shrugged. “They’ve been aboard starships before. Maybe they figured… Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You’re willing to share your White Castles with a bunch of monkeys?”
“For Glyssia,” he said loftily, “I am prepared to do almost anything.”
“And what does Glyssia have to do with the Guardians?”
“She has been with them for some time, and she is very concerned for their safety and well-being.”
“I see.” He
didn’t really, and he suspected there was more to the story. “I think we all feel that way.”
“She says the Guardians are what gave her and the children hope that they would be rescued.”
Larry’s eyes narrowed. “And how would they do that?”
“They do have a certain magic about them. I—”
The ship’s vibration increased as they passed through the remaining layers of Palorka’s atmosphere.
Magic…
Quickly setting the autopilot, Larry unbuckled his safety harness. “You have the con,” he shouted and took off running.
As he skidded into the lounge where he’d left Althea, the sight that met his eyes nearly had him laughing out loud, despite his concern for his mate.
Exotic children and monkeys were scattered about the room, most of them nibbling on little square cheeseburgers. Dartula sat on the armrest of the sofa where Althea lay, while Glyssia hovered above, the gentle flap of her wings creating a pleasantly soothing breeze. Seven of the Guardians surrounded Althea. Spaced at regular intervals, each of them had placed a hand on her body, and they were all, for want of a better term, singing. The strange whirring sounds rose and fell through several rhythmic cycles. When the song ended, they exchanged places with seven other monkeys who also began to sing.
Holy Hektat. They’re working in shifts.
He’d known the Guardians possessed remarkable healing powers—that his father still lived was proof of that. However, he never dreamed he would witness those powers in action—or that he would wish for their success with such fervor.
Dartula looked up at him and smiled. “With this much help, Althea should be fully recovered and awake within the hour.”
Larry believed in the Guardians’ magic. He had no choice. Still, a tiny grain of fear lodged in his mind. After all, not every injury could be healed.
As though she sensed his uncertainty, Dartula said, “Repairing damage to the mind and spirit is what the Guardians do best. She’ll be better soon. You’ll see.”
If not, those monkeys might have to work their magic on me next.
Maverick Page 27