Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) (26 page)

“Take this,” Atletl said, reappearing on cue from the hut’s interior and holding out two empty waterskins.

Nate looped the straps over his shoulder and moved into the scrubby dunes behind the hut.
 

Thom and Bithia had an easy time locating plenty of driftwood and soon had a fire blazing in the stone fire pit at the west end of the front porch. The sergeant used the trusty, age-old method of rubbing two sticks together to get the first spark after first teasing Bithia about the fact her magic bracelet could do so many things but was useless for a simple thing like starting a fire.

“Do you know how long it’s been since my people needed open flame for anything? Your race must be far closer to the origin point of your species than mine.” She was trying to tease him and was reassured by Thom’s nod. He was Nate’s best friend, nearly a brother, but a stranger to her. All she knew of him was what Nate had shared in their dreams together.

Thom fed the fire, but kept one piece of the driftwood aside, hefting it thoughtfully. Bithia followed his line of sight and found he was eyeing a flock of large, long-legged birds daintily feasting on small fish or other sea creatures in the shallows a few dozen yards away. The black-and-white-striped fishers had wickedly long, ivory-colored beaks, but hadn’t shown any fear while she and Thom gathered driftwood. Nor had the birds made any threatening moves, even when he’d gotten close to a pair of juveniles straying from the main flock.

“The birds might be good eating, you think?” he asked. “Big enough to carry meat on those bones.”

She didn’t know what to say. “I’ve no idea. My people aren’t accustomed to eating the flesh of other living creatures, although we have done so, at local feasts on this planet, for example.” Biting her lip, she didn’t say anything else.
I have to stop lecturing them about my civilization, which may not even exist anymore. I’ve got to fit into this world now.
Reality threatened to crash in on her, and her heart rate accelerated as her chest grew tight with anxiety. Instinctively, she reached for Nate with her mind and was reassured to find him still linked with her. She didn’t try to talk to him, not knowing what he was doing at the moment, wary of distracting him, but sensing the warmth of their bond in her mind helped to calm her nerves.

“I’m going to go try my luck. Haven’t hunted game since I was a boy, but something about the stomach being empty enough for the belly button to touch the backbone inspires a man to resurrect old skills.” Thom eyed the piece of driftwood again, pulling out a belt knife. “Took this from the soldier whose uniform I’m wearing. This might make a good throwing stick, with judicious carving here and there. Well, guess I’ll go find out in case Celixia doesn’t come across anything edible in those dusty old jars. Keep the fire going, will you, ma’am?”
 

“Of course.” She selected a small stick and placed it on the flames.

Thom gave her a salute and set off to hunt.
 

Pleased to have a moment to herself, Bithia leaned against the boulder behind her and stretched. The small luxury of being able to move freely after all those centuries of paralysis was intoxicating. Occasionally, a muscle or nerve cluster would refuse to do what she wanted, probably a residual effect of being held captive by the healer. She hoped the fleeting weakness would diminish over time. Taking a deep breath of the fresh sea air, she pondered the uncertain future. If she could get off Talonque and find the way to Nate’s Sectors with him, she’d be fine. She was a member of a high tech society, after all. Surely she could fit in among his people. If she was doomed to remain on the planet, she had unwavering confidence in Nate to carve out a place for them to live. It wouldn’t be anything like the life she’d dreamed of, so long ago now, but there would be Nate.

Ironic to find a companion soul where she’d never expected it, much less a man who was a warrior through and through. Bithia poked the fire a bit, reflecting on the men of her own society she’d been attracted to before. Nothing like Nate. She tried to imagine any of them enduring what he’d surmounted on Talonque, including convincing her to overcome her fears and grief and step into the world again at his side. Visualizing her favorite mental picture of Nate, the time they’d met in the dreamspace and spoken of songs and emotions, she felt herself smiling and relaxing.
 

When Nate retraced his path across the dunes in the darkening twilight, he found a satisfactorily domestic scene with two large plucked and dressed fowl being roasted on a spit across the fire pit. Thom tended the blaze, keeping it the right height to roast, not just sear, the birds. He was munching determinedly on dried fruit.
 

“Found this in one of the sealed jars,” he said, holding up a handful.

Bithia sat, keeping Thom company, snacking on the stringy preserved fruit. She was amusing herself by making a fan with long lustrous feathers and a strip of cloth torn from her badly fraying gown. “See all these tiny, annoying red bugs? I think the cooking smell, or the dripping grease, attracts them. I hoped a fan might help keep the insects away.” She smiled a bit ruefully. “High-tech as the gilintrae is, it can’t repel a determined bug. The insects always win, don’t they?”

“On every planet, universal law of nature. You made a lot of progress,” Nate said as he unslung two bulging, dripping waterskins. “Nice clean spring water. Plenty more where this came from. In the morning I’ll play guide to the pond, and the rest of you can take a dip, wash off some of the grime. I’m a new man, let me tell you.”

“Any trouble?” Thom moved to make room for Nate to sit between him and Bithia. He took a water sack and offered it to Bithia first, then indulged in a long drink himself, belching contentedly. “Sorry. I needed something to wash down the fruit. I swear the cook preserved the seeds, the skin and the stem along with the good parts, and it all congealed to the density of a pebble.” Moving a few feet away from the fire, he poured water over his head, vigorously rubbing his red hair and face to remove some of the accumulated grime and sweat.

“No trouble, no neighbors.” Nate’s report was succinct. He finished his own long drink. “There are flickering lights off in the distance, torches maybe, by the headland. Might be a fishing village. At least three miles. Mm, smells good. When do you figure it’ll be done?” Nate reluctantly took a handful of the dried fruit Bithia offered him. The idea of roasted poultry was infinitely more inviting. His stomach growled.

“Couple hours. Have to get it thoroughly cooked to kill any parasites. There’s dried fishmeal in the hut, but it’s too salty. Maybe with the water you brought we can make soup to hold us off until the main course is done.” Thom rotated the spit. “These birds are so fat they’re self-basting. Should taste good.”

“Where’s Celixia? And Atletl?”

Thom jerked his head to indicate the hut. “She was totally worn out. Atletl said he’d sit with her since she was afraid to be left alone. Or so she said. Ask me, we have hot mutual attraction brewing there. Can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“Can’t say I’m too surprised, the way those two have been eyeing each other since we first got to the city and met her. Aren’t you tired?” Nate asked, studying Bithia warily.
 

She was his focus. Much as he’d grown to like Atletl and Celixia, the local couple could take care of themselves tonight. His primary worry was Bithia, her continuing good health, her mental state—in short, everything. She’d had to cope with so much since escaping the healing chamber, and Nate was expecting some knd of delayed reaction. He’d hated leaving her even for the short time required to carry out the necessary recon of the surrounding territory and to find water, but he’d known Thom would watch over her.

“I’m not too tired.” She pulled the creamy white, fringed blanket she’d apparently taken from the hut more closely around her and leaned into Nate’s embrace. After a moment, she made a little face of self-mockery. “Well, that’s not strictly true. I’m afraid to let myself fall asleep ever again.”

“Understandable after all those centuries of enforced sleep. Don’t push it,” he said. “When your body figures out you need to rest on your own now, you’ll drowse off, I’m sure. Sit with me and enjoy the peace and quiet. We’ve earned a break for at least one night, although Thom and I’ll stand watch. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“What will we do next? In the morning? Strange to be talking like this again after so long, actually making plans. It feels a little frightening.”

Nate gave her a hug.

“The lady has a good question. What are you planning for us to do tomorrow?” Thom characteristically brought the conversation back to the nuts and bolts of their continued escape.

Nate stared out to the sea, where the whitecaps of the incoming waves were visible in the gloom, marching to the beach in sets about six feet high. The sound of the water was rhythmic, soothing. A night bird warbled a few liquid notes as it skimmed along the sand close by them.

He took a deep breath. It was hard to force his tired mind to assemble the next set of moves. Relaxed for the first time since the sequence of events started light years away from Talonque, which eventually brought them crashing onto this damn planet, he craved freedom from responsibility.
Not home free yet, and you’re in command. Everyone’s depending on you to make it go right for them.
He sat straighter, squaring his shoulders as he took on the weight of the command duties he’d mentally set aside for an all too brief time.

“We can’t stay here too long, idyllic though it’s been so far. In the morning we’ll check out what else is left in this hut and the outbuilding and junk pile in back. See if there’s anything we can use. I want Atletl to take a trip to the fishing village, do some trading. We need sandals for Bithia, at a minimum, and local clothes for all of us would be nice. I don’t want to march through the land resembling a deserter from Sarbordon’s legions, you know?”

“We already got rid of those damn helmets. And I ditched the leather breastplate in the tunnel, which was another major improvement, let me tell you. The green uniform and black cloaks ain’t too bad, if a man’s gotta wear a kilt. I’m getting kinda fond of this cloak, actually. Got a nice weight to it. Pocket comes in handy,” Thom said. “What are you thinking to use for trade goods? The blankets? Whoever lived here must have been pretty poor.”

“Celixia took care of that,” Nate said. He removed a green leather pouch from the pocket of his cloak. “She slipped me this as we were leaving the warehouse site.”

“What’s in it?” Bithia asked curiously.

“Coins. Gold, I believe. I have no idea how much they’re worth, but Atletl should be able to stretch them while bargaining in the village. She said we’d need money to escape if I was successful in releasing you from the chamber.”

“A woman who definitely plans ahead.” Thom’s voice held approval. “If she wasn’t already spoken for, I might have to break my own rules about permanent involvements.” He checked for Nate’s reaction to this hoary old joke between them and guffawed.

Nate shook his head. “That’ll be the day when you settle on one woman on any planet.”

“After Atletl completes his trade duties, then what?” Bithia asked.

“We head inland, avoid trouble, try to locate our ship and hope like hell Haranda was right about it being spaceworthy.”

“I don’t want to think so far ahead tonight, if it’s okay with you,” Thom said. “Kinda had a full day and a half straight here. I like the idea of pretending to be on leave at some recreational beach somewhere in the Sectors. Tahumaroa Two maybe. Spent a good three weeks standard there once.” Thom leaned against the hut and stretched. “I’m content with no worries, no schedule, nothing to do the rest of tonight but cook these fat birds and then eat, followed by a good night’s sleep.”

The three of them sat in companionable silence. Fat dripped from the roasting birds onto the fire with hissing sounds. A breeze sprang up, and the sound of the ocean came to them more clearly.

Nate realized from her soft, steady breathing that Bithia had fallen asleep despite her reluctance. He settled her more comfortably in the circle of his arms without waking her and looked across the fire to meet Thom’s worried gaze.

“What are you going to do about her when we re-enter the Sectors? How we gonna protect her?”

“I won’t be the first Special Forces guy to come home with the local girl who saved his life on-planet,” Nate said. “The Sectors turns a blind eye to that kind of thing—you know the drill. I marry her, she becomes a citizen, I retire, we drop out of sight. Simple.”

“Not simple.” Thom’s objection was immediate. “You know damn well when we do our mission debrief that there are going to be gaping holes—hell, monster black holes—in the story. How do we keep Command from realizing you’re the first Special Forces guy to come home with an honest-to-goodness, living ancient alien citizen? I know she ain’t actually AO, but she’s from a time way before ours, with answers to a few mysteries.” Thom frowned, apparently not liking where his thoughts took him next. “Sectors government is generally fair, but thinking the authorities’ll leave her alone is a stretch. Let her vanish with you? Seven hells, it’s technically against the law for a private citizen to own even one broken piece of an AO relic. And you want to marry a woman who
is
an AO, for all practical purposes? Have a normal life? Good luck, soldier! You may be able to shield the knowledge of who she truly is when Command debriefs you, but I ain’t got your ability with mind blocks.” His face bore a mournful expression. “I won’t be able to stop myself from betraying you.”