Camron

by Veronica Scott

  Reviewing what he’d been told, as well as the actions of this enforcer, Camron could only reach one conclusion, startling though it might be. Looking from one to the other of his enemies, he said, “You’re planning a coup, aren’t you? Is the other enforcer in on it too? But is this the Alpha you’re planning to set in his place? No offense, boy, but you’d never be able to take Briator, drunk or sober. I stand more chance of defeating him in hand to hand battle than you would.”

  “The man we swore in secret to follow was sent on this combat mission,” Tratus said. “He’s the Alpha in the next generation, so a bit younger than Briator and older than Stebb here. He’ll be able to mount a successful dominance challenge.”

  All kinds of problems with this scheme immediately occurred to Camron. “If he returns.”

  Tratus rubbed his forehead wearily. “Again, not your problem if we can get you and your mate out of here. About two thirds of the pack is disgusted with Briator’s leadership. Many wished to align themselves with your Alpha and his mate from the beginning, especially since we owe our freedom to her. Many disapprove of this loathsome scheme to enslave human women to become breeders. Your arrival with a true marked mate, as the ancestral memory gives us to understand is the proper way to accept the gift from the goddess, was a blessing. The event gave power to the healer’s words uttered in secret. He insists Briator has strayed too far from what makes us worthy to be Badari. True to be Tzibir is to be other than Badari to some extent but our origins are the same. And some men are simply disgusted at what the Alpha has become, in the grip of the feelgood. The healer told me privately even a Badari immune system can’t repair the constant damage caused by this drink.” Tratus checked with the boy. “Are you done feeding him? Then we’d better go.”

  Camron had more questions but held his tongue as Tratus and the young Alpha headed for the door of the hut. He didn’t care overmuch about the Tzibir pack’s politics and problems, although it was interesting the Tzibir apparently clung to some of the Badari pack law, including the concept an Alpha could only be removed through direct, one on one challenge, no matter the provocations. None of the Tzibir concerns amounted to a pile of parraps berries next to his worries for Gemma.

  The enforcer paused, hand on the door. “Your mate wanted us to tell you she has faith in you and she loves you.” Tratus stared at him across the hut, eyes blazing red. “You’re blessed to be mated, I hope you know. I envy you.”

  “The blessing can happen for you as well someday, but not if the humans are mistreated,” Camron said. Reluctantly, he forced himself to add, “Thank you for relaying her words to me—they’re a comfort.”

  The night was long, and the hut grew cold, but Camron wasn’t affected by the chill. He worried for Gemma and prayed to the goddess his mate had been given a blanket. He forced himself to drowse, gathering strength and will for whatever the day was going to bring. He didn’t plan to die at Parryfilmunn’s hands, so he had to embrace his soldier self and set aside the worried mate identity.

  Thinking over Tratus’s words about the arrangement for the handover, he tried to plan for various scenarios and how he could gain an advantage in the fight for his life and Gemma’s future. He took constant comfort from the warm glow of the mate bond in his heart and the knowledge he’d be fighting for her life too gave him strength. Gemma should live as a free woman, not to be forced into slavery under Briator’s rule. He shuddered to think what such a life would do to her, given her constant level of stress over her previous captivity on Taranado Three.

  I will not let her down.

  His current situation was unpleasant but nothing compared to tortures he’d endured at the hands of the Khagrish. There was an added element of emotional pain, however, to be suffering this treatment from fellow Badari.

  The first pearly rays of dawn had barely begun penetrating the hut where he was chained before Tratus and a squad of Tzibir came to fetch him.

  “I want to see my mate,” Camron said before the enforcer could utter a word. “I want to tell her I love her and say goodbye. Surely you owe me that much.”

  Tratus avoided his eyes and shook his head. “Briator anticipated this request and said no. The woman isn’t yours any longer. She belongs to our pack.”

  “She’ll be mine until the day we both die and beyond,” Camron said. “Where is your Alpha? Too good to come supervise the betrayal of a fellow Badari?”

  He noticed several of the guards shifting uncomfortably and guessed these were among the men Tratus had mentioned were disaffected, but no one protested, much less came to his aid.

  “You need to obey my instructions to the letter.” The enforcer brandished an inject. “We have a few doses of the compliance drug we stole from an abandoned lab and my orders are to use it on you if you give me any problems.”

  Camron gaped, shocked anew to learn any Badari, even one in the Tzibir pack, could actually contemplate dosing another man with the hated concoction. Remembering their conversation of the night before, he stayed silent while the guards removed the chains. Tratus locked his wrists into force binders behind his back, cinching them so tight Camron winced and had a moment of serious doubt about placing any trust in the enforcer’s words, but by then it was too late. His ankles were shackled, and he was taken from the hut and along a path leading out of the settlement. He identified the hut he guessed Gemma was in and wished he could see her.

  Tratus followed the direction of his gaze and shook his head. “Don’t ask me again. Yes, she’s there and, no, you can’t see her.”

  The squad moved fast, forcing him to walk awkwardly in the leg chains to keep up, but Camron paid close attention to the route, since he’d have to retrace it alone if he succeeded in escaping Parryfilmunn.

  The trail veered off in a completely different direction than the way he and Gemma had been brought to the pack’s home the day before, and the terrain was monotonously the same and confusing. He was glad Tratus hadn’t drugged him not only because he remained in full control of himself but also because of the mental fog the drug could induce.

  After about five miles as promised, the column left the worst of the canyons and emerged onto an arid plain. The wind blew hot and dust devils twirled in the distance. Not an inviting landscape. He and Gemma would have to be prudent and travel at night if they hiked across the plains on their way north. Ahead, Camron saw unmistakable signs of previous flyer landings. “How can you let the Khagrish get so close to your settlement? Aren’t you concerned they’ll attack? Try to recapture you?”

  Tratus shrugged. “Mineral deposits in the hills keep their scanners from working properly, and we’re well camouflaged from above. So far the Khagrish haven’t shown any signs of disturbing our arrangement. They need us to help them fool the Chimmer into believing the situation on the planet is still manageable. I think Gahzhing has told the customer we’re now a closely monitored experiment living in the wild or some such bullshit. We show up when he needs us and he leaves us alone.”

  But the enemy knows roughly where you are. The situation didn’t sound good to Camron, but it wasn’t his problem either. Two soldiers laid out tools and made quick work of anchoring a post into the bedrock. Pulse rifles aimed at his chest ensured Camron put up no resistance as he was led to the pillar.

  “The Khagrish’ll be here in an hour,” Tratus said as the soldiers packed their equipment and began an orderly withdrawal to the hills. He lingered beside Camron and made a show of examining the bonds to assess their security.

  Camron remained stoic, gazing straight ahead as if resigned to his fate, while Tratus fussed with the force binders. He heard a pair of clicks at his wrist and ankles then the enforcer slipped a small blaster into the side pocket of his utilities.

  “You can break out of the binders with one abrupt motion,” Tratus said in a soft voice. “I’ve dialed them to minimal. Choose your moment wisely and may the goddess bless you. I’ll do my best to protect your mate until you can come collect her. Good fortune

, soldier.”

  Angry over the entire situation and the Tzibir involvement, Camron was tempted to break free then, but there were five pulse rifles trained on him by the Tzibir squad and, as an enforcer, Tratus was nearly impossible for someone of such a lower rank as Camron was to overpower. In the world of the Badari, dominance and rank were established by physical strength and combat challenge, and Camron couldn’t take Tratus, any more than he could defeat Mateer, senior enforcer of his own pack. Besides, the Tzibir enforcer had done exactly what he said he would to assist Camron today, and the blaster in his pocket was a welcome advantage.

  Better to deal with Parryfilmunn once and for all and then return to the village to rescue Gemma.

  “Move out,” Tratus yelled and jogged to rejoin his team. Camron craned his neck to watch them retreat then directed his attention to preparing for the Khagrish to arrive.

  When he heard the flyer in the distance, he severed the force binders and palmed the blaster, taking care to appear as if he was still shackled to the pole.

  He had to slit his eyes when the flyer landed as it kicked up choking dust, but then he watched Parryfilmunn strut down the ramp, preceded by two guards with pulse rifles. Three more came behind and fanned out, taking sentry positions, followed more slowly by a man he guessed was the pilot, curious perhaps to watch the recapture of the fugitive. The pilot disappeared inside again but soon reappeared guiding an antigrav litter.

  The Khagrish commander swaggered his way over the hard packed ground to stand in front of Camron and do a little gloating. He backhanded Camron savagely across the face and Camron had to exercise all the discipline he possessed not to step away from the pole and retaliate. He pretended to slump because now was not the moment to make his break for freedom and revenge, not yet. The guards were too far away. Camron’s split lip bled but it was a minor inconvenience and would heal quickly.

  Parryfilmunn exuded glee as he paced, watching Camron, who he wrongly assumed was at his mercy. “You’ve led me quite the chase, 820. Almost had you and the female at the old mountain lab, missed you by a few hours evidently, but your fellow Badari in these hills had no problem selling you out for the right price. Too bad about the female, but she was only interesting to me in connection with you. It’s your head I want as the trophy. I could put any human female on my trophy display.”

  Camron remained silent. He wasn’t going to waste words on the enemy.

  “Nothing to say? This hasn’t been exactly the hunt I had in mind.” Parryfilmunn leaned closer. “Don’t harbor any dreams of repeating your escape. When we get to the lab, I’m trapping you in a fenced off section of the Preserve, shooting you promptly in a carefully staged location and splicing together all the vid footage into an epic hunt. No one back home will be the wiser. You’re not going to tell anyone the truth.”

  Guffawing at his own cleverness, the commander stepped away, gesturing to the closest guards. “Get him off that primitive set up and onto the antigrav litter. Stun him if you have to. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

  Camron took care not to betray his readiness to do battle by so much as an indrawn breath. The two guards slung their rifles and came to the post as Parryfilmunn watched, tapping his toe on the dirt, hands clasped behind his back.

  In the blink of an eye, Camron slashed the nearest guard open from chin to crotch, grabbed the second man and slit his throat, holding the lifeless corpse across his body with one arm to block a shot from the only sentry who’d been paying attention. Returning fire with his own weapon, he knocked the guard off his feet with a scorched hole in his midsection. Dropping the dead man he was using for a shield, Camron fired off two more shots in rapid succession, killing the remaining guards as they belatedly spun to face him and tried to take aim. The pilot was stumbling in his frightened attempt to re-enter the flyer, but he fell over the antigrav litter and Camron blasted him as well.

  He pivoted to face Parryfilmunn, who stood as if frozen but took one horrified look at Camron, covered in blood, fangs and talons extended, stalking him, and ran toward the flyer.

  As Camron gave chase, the commander struggled to draw his own blaster but, before he was able to do so, Camron tackled him from behind, bringing them both to the dirt with a thump. Camron knocked the blaster out of the Khagrishi’s hand and drew back. “The odds are even now so I think we should settle this business of who’s hunting who like men, don’t you?”

  He allowed the enemy to get to his feet, cutting between Parryfilmunn and the flyer. Camron stood shaking his head. “No escape for you today. Will you face your death like a man and fight?”

  Parryfilmunn took a deep breath and settled into a fighting stance. “I may surprise you, 820.”

  “I doubt it.” They circled each other, Camron taking care his opponent couldn’t get near enough to any of the dead soldiers to go for a weapon.

  The Khagrish feinted a blow but Camron refused to be drawn so Parryfilmunn closed, holding a knife he’d pulled from his belt. The Khagrishi slashed at him, opening a long cut on Camron's arm before dancing away to what he evidently and wrongly judged to be a safe distance. Grinning, Camron bounded forward and raked his full set of claws across the man’s chest, easily tearing open the uniform and the flesh, to the bone. “Your kind created my brothers and me to be deadly, merciless, and fast. You can testify to the experiment’s success when you arrive in hell.”

  Staggered by his wound, Parryfilmunn lunged again, making a dying effort to stab Camron in the heart.

  Rather than lower himself by toying with an unworthy, weaker being, even though Parryfilmunn was one of his hated enemies, Camron took pity on the man and ended the fight cleanly with a blow nearly severing the commander’s head from his neck. He watched the Khagrish fall and lie unmoving in the dust then surveyed the entire scene with satisfaction. The scientists and their helpers had always been deathly afraid of what would happen if the Badari ever broke free. He congratulated himself on making their worst nightmares come true today.

  He had no time to linger and savor the victory, however. He had a mate to rescue. Camron sprinted to the flyer, pausing to grab several of the abandoned weapons, and ran up the ramp, kicking the pilot’s corpse aside and shoving the antigrav litter out of the way. Camron was prepared to fight if anyone else remained inside, but the craft was empty. Rapidly, he sealed the portal and made his way to the cockpit. He’d had training as a pilot in simulators at the lab, but the Khagrish never trusted him to fly, even under guard, so today was going to be his belated final exam on the skills learned. To his relief, the controls resembled the instrumentation he’d learned on, except for an odd console bolted like an afterthought into the starboard bulkhead. He guessed it must be the new ultra-scanner.

  “Aydarr’ll be glad to get his hands on one of these.” I bet Kierce’s mate Elianna can figure out what makes it tick and how to defeat the tech, once she takes it all apart. So no other Badari could be captured the way he had been. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, he was briefly tempted to try calling the sanctuary valley on the com but, even if he managed to connect, it would take hours for his own pack to arrive, and he wanted to snatch Gemma out of Briator’s claws and be on his way home. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the goddess, Camron activated the controls and the flyer lifted into the sky. He hoped he could find a good landing spot not too far away from the cliff dwellings.

  As he circled the landing field once, he had a twinge of regret over leaving the scene for the Tzibir to clean up, but the thought was gone in a flash. After all, the Tzibir caused the whole problem by taking him and his mate prisoner in the first place then calling in the Khagrish. Served them right to have a mess on their hands.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gemma dozed fitfully during the night under a blanket the guard tossed to her as the sun set, waking when the guards changed shift and their voices disturbed her, and once when a pair of rodents ran through the hut and over her ankle on their way out. She screamed, causing the guard to poke his head in the doorway and check on her.

  She found herself falling into the self-protectively tough shell she’d adopted when held as a captive on Taranado Three, once she was sure the local warlord there wasn’t going to kill her. He and his men had held a grudging respect for her, although it hadn’t gained her freedom or better treatment.

  “I’m fine, dealing with a few vermin in this lovely accommodation your Alpha provided for me,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “This is not how to win mates and influence women in your favor.”

  The guard gaped at her before slamming the door shut again.

  With a laugh, since she was now wide awake, she worked by touch on the knots at her wrists again and eventually managed to get one hand free as dawn crept through the gaps in the hut’s construction. No one brought her any breakfast; much less news of Camron, so she kept tugging at the ropes awkwardly and finally had both hands loose. Next, she made a few attempts to reach the knife Stebb had concealed in the straw and, by stretching as far as she could, she got her fingertips on the hilt.

  Stifling her cry of victory and glancing anxiously at the door, she scooted back to the place she’d been occupying and hid the knife. After waiting a few minutes and not being disturbed, she slashed at the rope on her ankle. With relief, she cut the strands then was able to get herself completely free.

  From the position of the sun coming through the poorly constructed walls, she judged it was now midmorning. Engrossed in her struggle to get free, she’d lost track of the time. Camron must have been taken to meet the Khagrish hours ago. She sent a prayer to the Badari goddess to help him and checked the mate bond, glowing in her mind. It seemed stable, not as if her mate was under any stress or in danger and she was briefly comforted. But he’s probably good at masking what he’s thinking, especially if he doesn’t want me to worry.

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