Forever's Not Enough (Galactic League of Planets) (11 page)

She hated accepting Crenshaw’s help as much as she hated leaving the infirmary, but took the small vial and said, “The Meline people thank you, Mr. Crenshaw.”

* * * *

He’d only heard them once before, but he recognized the night sounds of Meline immediately. Rolling to his side, he was confronted by a smiling Peenzan, “How do you feel, my love?”

He wasn’t sure. His shoulder hurt less and his thigh none at all. Falling back on the mattress he breathed deep and smiled. His world was right again and he gave up on understanding why.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

“I need you to help me up.”

“No! You’re doctor said…”

“Now!”

He cringed when she appeared at his feet, hand outstretched and a hurt look on her face.

It was a struggle, and it made him dizzy and sick. “How long have we been here?”

She sounded mad, but answered, “Only a few hours. You need to rest.”

Falling back on the bed, his head throbbing, he whispered, “Pull it off.”

Her face appeared, her concern real. “What?”

He swallowed and tried again, “Pull the pad off my thigh.”

“But…”

“Now, dammit!” he roared.

He closed his eyes to stop the spinning and felt her fingers digging at the edge of the adhesive healing pad. When it came away he heard a gasp.

“Forget it,” he said. “Now get the other one off my shoulder.”

He was afraid he’d throw up if he opened his eyes and just lay there following dips in the mattress as she moved around and peeled the other pad off.

“Now get me to the pool so I can wash off and go find your doctor.”

“But…”

His big hand closed around her arm and pulled her close, “Do you really love me or was that just some fairytale you told me?”

She looked frightened and he hated himself. When she whispered that she did, he added softly, “Then please, Princess, do what I ask.”

He felt better in the chiming pool and let the water take his weight. When the doctor arrived he explained, “They’ve poisoned me. Take the pads and see if you can figure out what it is.”

Peenzan translated, then helped him out of the pool to the bench and he asked her to turn the lights up. They both inspected his red ugly wounds, which in fact were healing nicely, and he asked for his clothes, four Meline fighters, and her father.

“But, my love, what on Meline for?”

His world was spinning less and his stomach had settled some. He touched her cheek and let his lips brush hers before gently replying, “Because I love you.”

When she purred loudly he felt even better.

* * * *

His clothes had been cut off by the Medic, and he was stuck with a leather loincloth and a royal robe. He hated the sandals and finally kicked them off.

When Peenzan had insisted on coming along, he hadn’t had the strength to argue with her. He had no idea where the energy came from that made his cock swell against her ass as she sat in front of him on their strange ride, guiding the animal along the rocky trail.

Her father rode beside them and said something which she translated, “He wants to thank you for helping in the battle.”

He really didn’t feel like speaking, but managed, “I was glad I could help.”

The Queen moon was high overhead and he watched the queen’s daughter race by. He didn’t know what it was or what it would do, but he wished they’d get there. Leaning close, he felt her purr and whispered, “We have to hurry.”

“But you’re not strong enough. It might hurt you.”

He let his nose wander through her platinum locks and felt at peace, “We may not have time. Make it go faster.”

And she did.

* * * *

From the crest above the battle, he looked down the other side. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but was fairly certain he’d recognize it when he saw it.

“Help me down.”

She seemed resigned to his demands, but still managed to protest while she complied. “You are a fool. You should be in our bed getting better.”

“I need more light.”

After an exchange with the fighters, they gathered around and held their silver sticks out. A bright glow fell off the end making the immediate area as bright as daylight.

Then he saw it. About three meters below the crest a large metal tube was sticking out of the ground. He didn’t think he could walk down the side without falling and sat instead. Pointing, he said, “Tell them to be very careful and dig that thing out.”

He watched the men work while Peenzan sat beside him holding his hand and the King stood by his side, a hand resting on his shoulder.

He tried to remember where he’d seen a tube like that before, but it just wouldn’t come to him.

When one of the men looked up and said something, he said, “Tell him to wait and tell me exactly what he sees.”

“He says it has Zandill markings and that there’s a small screen with figures moving on it.”

“Does anyone here read Zandill?”

“I do.”

Whatever it was, he was sure it wasn’t good and he had an illogical aversion to her getting any closer, as if three meters might save her. It did no good. She was on her knees squinting before he could say anything.

“It has numbers and they’re counting down.”

“A timer. How much time is left?”

“In Zandill time there’s…”

When she didn’t answer he insisted, “How much time?”

“I’m not sure. They have a thirteen-hour day and only forty-seven seconds in a minute. Something like thirty-five minutes Meline time.”

“What’s that in earth time?”

“Twenty-eight I think.”

He just wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to close his eyes and curl up on the hard ground. He wanted to forget everything, but he couldn’t. Was he being a traitor? Or was he fighting the Zandill?

“Where’s the closest transporter?”

“At the palace.”

“How long?”

“I told you,” Peenzan sounded desperate.

“No! To get there!”

When no one answered he explained quickly, “You have to get it to a transporter and blind transport it to someplace uninhabited. An asteroid, a moon, the vacuum of space. Any place. And you have to do it before the time reaches zero.”

Peenzan gave orders and two of the fighters rode off in a cloud of dust balancing the bomb between them.

With a grunt he rolled to the ground and closed his eyes.

* * * *

He’d soundly rejected the liquid in the vials Crenshaw had sent, and instead sent them to the doctor to be checked as well. In spite of that, she’d seen his wounds continue to heal and his strength return.

The doctor finally reported. It was an Andrine plant poison that would have taken a week to very slowly and very painfully kill him.

She’d watched him sleep for a day and a night, and then eat as much as any three Meline fighters would, and now he was telling her he had to get to Zandill.

“Why on earth would you want to go to Zandill?”

“Because you need their help.”

“The Zandill! Never!”

Then he‘d walked off to the bathing pool and refused to tell her more.

Shoving her robe off her shoulders, she stepped into the water with him and announced, “Then I’m going with you.”

“You can’t,” he said and disappeared beneath the water.

She floated around and waited. When he came up and grabbed her, finding her lips with his, she knew she’d already won. “You can’t go without me.”

“Why not?” he asked and let his hands wander down to her back-fall.

She purred, watched his eyes go dreamy, and said smugly, “That’s why.”

* * * *

This is nuts. What the hell am I doing here?
Peenzan stood beside him in full royal regalia, defiant to the end, and Peenzan’s handmaiden, of all people, stood behind them both.

Hill hadn’t understood the conversation, but he had captured the king’s anger when Peenzan had explained what he wanted to do. If looks could kill, he’d be dead. Oddly enough it had been the queen that had stepped close, looked him directly in the eye, and given the command.

There was no direct communication between the two worlds, and other than a blind jump, something he considered entirely too dangerous, there was no way to transport directly to a Zandill transporter station. They had to transport to another world, one with relations with Zandill, then transport in. A small complication, but doable.

Peenzan said something and they were suddenly standing in a Rangdon transporter station, and a creature half the size of Peenzan was standing, hand outstretched, waiting for them.

He didn’t know the language, but he did understand the custom and stepped up to touch the Rangdon’s fingertips. Peenzan and Pran did likewise, and when Pran engaged the creature in conversation, he understood why she’d accompanied them.

He looked around the brightly lit transporter bay and noticed no one seemed to pay any particular attention to them. As the spice of choice in the known galaxy, he was sure Rangdon received a lot of off-world visitors.

When Peenzan pulled his arm, he stepped back into the transporter and saw that Pran had stayed behind.

He steeled himself for what would happen next while he watched the diminutive creature step up to the flat screen that controlled the transporter and move his fingertips across its surface quickly.

In spite of the UC’s presence on their moon and good solid diplomatic relations, the Zandill were an odd lot and he was bringing something along they might not be too happy about. A Meline princess.

Pran and the well-lit transporter bay disappeared, to be replaced by a dark dank cave and two very surprised Zandill Warriors.

They stared long enough for him to step forward and give the traditional Zandill warrior greeting by fisting his left hand over his heart and looking at the floor.

He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but understood what was bothering them when they ignored him completely and walked several times around Peenzan.

Now for the hard part. He doubted seriously he would easily find a Zandill that spoke English, but he was sure they’d recognize him and his language as human, and hoped whoever discovered them would take them to someone else that did.

“We come in peace and I would like to speak with your commander.”

The two Zandill only grunted and pointed their weapons at Peenzan, and looked at him.

He tried again. “I would like to speak with your commander.”

When Peenzan started speaking the guttural language, her left hand stabbing the air with the accompanying Zandill hand gestures, he was amazed. When one of the Zandill warriors engaged her and the conversation went on much longer than was needed to convey his message, he became concerned.

He watched as the second guard stepped away and raised a small communications device to his mouth to speak. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over and the two guards stepped back and watched them both in silence.

Before he could ask Peenzan what she’d said, a Zandill, small of stature and dressed in something Hill could only describe as less casual than body armor, appeared.

His mouth contorted in the crooked wink of a Zandill smile and he extended his hand to Hill in the traditional earth greeting of a handshake. “You must be Sergeant Hillsborough. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Zad.”

While the cutthroat tactics of their warriors were famous most everywhere in the galaxy, little was known about the people as a whole, and Hill felt completely out of his depth at reading the man’s sincerity, or more importantly, lack of it.

“Stanley Hillsborough and,” he said, stepping aside and raising a hand, “Princess Peenzan Fanston of the planet Meline.”

Zad dropped Hill’s hand and extended it to the princess, “Yes, Princess. How good to see you’re alive and well. We were all very concerned after the incident on UC-1. How lucky you were to avoid such a deadly fate.”

At first he thought Peenzan might not return the greeting, and breathed a small sigh of relief when her hand came up and she responded in Zandill.

Zad smiled and looked at him before complimenting the princess in English, “Your Zandill is excellent, Princess.”

“As is your English,” she replied.

Hill was getting antsy and wanted to move things along. Clearing his throat he ventured, “We’d like to apologize for showing up unannounced, but I believe I have some information that might be of importance to your people.”

Zad smiled and said, “But of course.”

“And how the hell do you know who I am?”

Zad laughed, which came out as a dry bark, and said something to the two guards before addressing Hill, “Why, you’re the Zandill spy, of course. And…” he turned to the two guards and gave a hand signal, “…instead of killing her, you’ve brought her to us.”

As the two guards stepped up and grabbed the princess, four more flooded into the transporter room and surrounded him.

* * * *

Blake was furious. He couldn’t believe the Meline news channels hadn’t reported anything yet. It had already been more than three days and there should be a pandemic ravaging the Meline population by now.

First the Omega unit gets wiped out, and then there’s no mention of a mysterious illness or similar catastrophe on that god-forsaken planet.

He’d already checked with RandD, and they swore their mix was tested and proven. It just made no sense. It had to be Hillsborough.

When his wall D chimed he barked an order and fell in the chair where he could see and be seen. When Lighton, the chairman’s assistant appeared walking around her bedroom wearing nothing but a smile, he stiffened and waited.

“So, Blake, what news do you have for the chairman?”

Reporting failure to the chairman was one thing, but reporting it to Lucy Lighten, the devil incarnate, was quite another.

He knew she already knew the answer to the question. She just wanted him to say it.

“Look, Lucy, why do you even ask? You already know the answer,” he replied flatly while he watched her lifelike image walk across her quarters to her closet and hang something up.

“Well, you know, Blake. I just like to stay on top of things,” she replied with a smirk.

Yeah, he thought, things like the chairman. He took in the bounce of her breasts as she crossed the room and picked something up from the floor, giving him a well-choreographed view of her ass, and wondered why the old man hadn’t died of a cardiac yet.