Heat (104 page)

But she didn’t, and a smashing sound from the groundcar told him the officer was on the move. Kane had to act.

He unslung his pack and set it at Raven’s side, twining the strap through her slack hand and trusting her to know by seeing it that he was coming back for her and she should not move. He bent low, growling in her ear, hoping that some subconscious part of her would hear and know him. But that was all. And then he left her.

Kane got low and watched the lawman run toward the smoke of the crashed groundcar. He ran fast and fairly steady, too, and that was bad. Kane was all too aware of the hurts inside him. This had better not come to a hand-fight.

He waited only long enough for the officer to get out of sight, and then he was moving, still low, with the human gun in one hand and the other in claws. He circled the groundcar (noting with the cold half of his mind that it appeared to be working pretty well, even if it was hung up. He could move it when this was done, assuming Raven was in any condition to drive, and if she wasn’t, well, maybe it was time he learned for himself), watching the human within struggle with her harness. She was flushed, her face pinched with an expression that was one part fear to nine parts pure exasperation. Pinned in, somehow. Completely helpless.

Kane eased the safety off of his gun and got in close on the blind side of the car. He could hear her now, swearing softly and continuously under her breath, punctuating her words periodically with grunts of effort: “…let go of me, you—ungh!—goddamn thing. Stupid seatbelt bitey-thingy, the only fucking thing that’s—aagh!—damaged and it would be you, you piece of shit! If I have to write to the Ford company and tell them aliens got off the planet with a keg of human hypothalamuses—urrgh!—because their fucking seatbelt clicker locks up on impact, I will!
Arrgh
! Goddammit!” She banged her little fist on the guidance wheel just as Kane hooked his hand into the door handle, and then covered her face in defeat. “God, I could use a hand here,” she muttered.

Kane ripped the door open and had the gun pressed to the thin skin just below her eye before she could do more than just twitch.

“Very funny, God,” she said, her lips barely moving.

Kane cut the strap of her frozen harness with one pass of his claws, seized her by the throat, and pulled her from the car.

*

The trail vanished after a hundred paces. Just vanished, right before the rotting husk of a fallen tree. Tagen continued on another step, his eyes sweeping left and right as dread bloomed in him. He turned, forcing soldier’s stillness, and retreated along the line of E’Var’s flight, searching for the place his prisoner had split off after backtracking. He was aware of every tree, every thicket, every shadowed place where a Jotan might be sighting on him.

His plasma gun was a comforting weight in his hand, his thumb at home beside the kill-switch. “Surrender yourself,” he called in Jotan. The hot, dry air swallowed his words, giving him the surreal impression that they had not carried at all. “Kanetus E’Var, you can be arrested or killed! Choose!”

No answer, not that Tagen expected anything (unless, of course, it was the expectation of human gunfire splitting him open). Tagen eased out from the false trail, scanning for further signs. “I have you, prisoner! Surrender! You have no hope of escape!”

“No?” a voice called in N’Glish. “Then maybe I could interest you in a trade?”

Tagen dropped and spun, his gun hand aimed without thought or effort. His thumb was already on the kill-switch but he did not fire. If he had, he would have killed E’Var instantly, for he was sighted right at the slaver’s heart.

And at Daria’s wide, terrified eyes. E’Var held her before him, his hand clamped over her mouth and a human’s gun cocked at her temple.

“I realize I can’t help but offer you a clear shot to my head,” E’Var said from somewhere in the world. He was speaking Jotan again, clearly and quietly, so that the words registered without requiring any of Tagen’s concentration. “But these human guns are no toys. If my hand should twitch just a little, your fuck-mate’s brains are going to be spattered over every tree in arm’s reach.”

Tagen could not answer. Daria’s eyes transfixed him. There was no pleading in them, none. It was the look of a woman who sees her destiny and knows she will not escape it. Fears it, perhaps, but does not intend to fight it.

‘What have I done to you?’ he thought faintly. ‘I am sorry, Daria. I am so very sorry.’

“What is that, a plasma gun?” E’Var asked.

“Standard Fleet issue on deep-space assignment.” His voice seemed to come from somewhere behind him. It was a calm voice, almost the tones of a disinterested bystander, as steady as the hand that continued to aim a killing bolt directly at Daria’s pale face and the Jotan heart it shielded.

“Power it down and throw it to me.”

“No.”

E’Var bared his teeth and made an extremely human clicking sound of frustration. It was the first time Tagen had ever heard that sound issue from a Jotan. He wondered if E’Var meant to make it or if it were something that he’d just picked up.

“I’ll kill her if you don’t,” E’Var warned him.

“You’ll kill her if I do. I am not a fool.”

E’Var’s snarl melded unexpectedly into a rueful, queerly likeable grin. “Well, we’d better think of something fast or my hand will get tired. How about you point it at the ground?”

“And will you?”

“No, but I will aim mine for her guts. Not a killing shot, not all at once, anyway. More importantly, if you don’t point yours at the ground, I’ll be forced to try to impress you and that’s going to go poorly for your Earth-cunt here.”

Tagen eyes moved narrowly away from Daria’s face to the slaver’s.

E’Var’s gaze was black and cold and empty as space itself. “Compromise is the highest sign of intelligent reason,” he said mildly. “And unless you’re willing to negotiate, lawman, I might as well blow her open and eat your plasma. As you say, I have no hope of escape and a man without hope can do anything he damn well pleases.”

Tagen’s arm lowered slowly until it was pointed harmlessly at the ground. His thumb remained lightly aside of the kill-switch.

The gun in E’Var’s hand moved from sight to the unknown field of Daria’s back. A shot might travel through, might shatter her spine, might rupture any number of vital organs. In some ways, it was worse than seeing the weapon aimed at her head.

“So,” Tagen said, rising to face E’Var on level. “What is it you mean to do?”

“I mean to get off this hell-shat rock, that’s what I mean to do,” E’Var replied. “And I think I’d better hold on to your fuck-mate until I do it to ensure your cooperation.”

“No.”

“You want to think,” E’Var said softly, “before you say that. This tasty little cunt is a twitch away from an open breeze on her entrails.” He showed his fangs in a hard smile. “Somehow, I doubt you’re quite so willing to kill my hostage this time.”

“Neither am I willing to free a murderer.”

The slaver clicked again, and then cocked his head and looked thoughtful. He put his mouth close to Daria’s ear and, in N’Glish, murmured, “Your fuck-mate is telling me he’ll kill you to capture me.” He moved his hand from her mouth, inviting reply.

Tagen’s blood sparked, but, “Good,” was all Daria said. Her voice shook a little, but the emotion behind it never did.

“Good,” E’Var echoed. He shook his head. “You’d rather die than be saved by him. I suppose that’s what I get for assuming you liked the fucking he threw into you. But that’s
v’kai
for you. They do everything by regulation.” His eye came back to Tagen and narrowed. He bent again, this time to nip at Daria’s jaw. “But I don’t.”

There was no point in showing fang. Warning him off Daria would only be playing into E’Var’s game. Tagen bit down on his surging temper and remained expressionless and silent.

“Listen to that,
ichuta’a
,” the slaver continued. “That is the sound of a whole lot of don’t-care-if-you-die. Look at him. He doesn’t even look a little upset. Well, why should he? You’re human. The only thing a
v’kai
sees when he looks at a human is a nuisance.” He grazed his teeth again along Daria’s jaw. “But I don’t. And if I had a little more time—” His hand slid down along her body to cup her groin. He rubbed slowly twice, and then lightly squeezed, his eyes boring into Tagen’s. “—I ‘d show you a few things. Unluckily for you, I’m in a hurry.”

“Aren’t we all?” Daria shot back in her quavering voice. “So why don’t you give up on the whole scaring-me thing and skip to the fucking point?”

E’Var shook his head with a father’s indulgence. “Mouthy,” he remarked, and suddenly spun Daria around, wedged a claw into her mouth to pull it open, and inserted the killing end of his gun. He hushed her choking cry with that patient, soothing purr of his, his black eyes locked with Tagen’s all the while. “Just relax,
ichuta’a
. Relax.
Don’t
! Don’t pull away, just let it be. Now back up, nice and steady.”

E’Var walked, pushing Daria ahead of him gun-first. To Tagen, still in N’Glish, he said, “This is how it’s going to be,
v’kai-untak
. Your fuck-mate and I are going to watch you walk away—”

“No.”

E’Var’s fangs showed in a flash of ugly emotion. In Jotan, he snarled, “I’m not suggesting, slave-fucker, I’m telling you, and if you say ‘no’ one more time, I’ll shoot the head right off your bitch.”

“You offer me nothing,” Tagen said evenly, also in Jotan. “What assurance do I have that you will not kill her the instant I am out of sight?”

E’Var spat out something that was not quite a laugh, although it tried to be. “What do you want, my fucking station-dock pass card? Oh, I know. My solemn promise and word of good faith.”

“I propose we all walk to your ship together,” Tagen said. “I can therefore see that the hostage is safe, and you will know at all times where I am. You will release her when you reach your ship and by the time I get to mine, you should be through the Gate and well away.”

E’Var’s eyes were slits as he listened and when the offer was out and waiting for an answer, he grunted. For a long time, there was no sound but the droning of insects in the hot air. Then: “No.”

Tagen was genuinely surprised. It was a good offer, irreproachably canted in favor of the criminal’s escape. He could feel a frown working its way onto his features. “I will leave my weapons here,” he said, and placed the plasma gun carefully on the ground beside him. He straightened again, showing his empty hands, his empty gunbelt. “You have every advantage.”

“No.”

And this time, E’Var’s eyes flicked left to the trees, far too briefly to give Tagen time to claim his gun and fire, even if he wanted to risk such a shot. There was something in the woods, something the slaver did not want Tagen to know about. The Vahst. He’d stowed the Vahst somewhere in the forest and meant to collect it after Tagen was gone.

“What was it you said about compromise and reason?” Tagen pressed.

“You’re appealing to my sense of fairness?” E’Var did laugh this time. “Have you even read my file? No. We play this one way and one way only. I’m taking your fuck-mate with me and you are staying here. If I see you anywhere behind me, I’ll kill her. But I’ll give you a good trail to follow.”

E’Var’s hand sliced down and Daria cried out around the barrel of his gun as he cut into her arm.

“I’ll make sure there’s something fresh for you to find every so often,” he added, as Daria’s blood pattered down over the tree-needles. “Including her eviscerated corpse if I so much as glimpse you in the shadows. Now.” He did something to the gun in Daria’s mouth that made the human weapon click ominously. “Tell me we have a deal, lawman, or get ready to fire that thing.”

Tagen held the empty gaze of the slaver as the seconds slipped by. He had no thoughts. There was nothing, really, to think about. At last, he nodded.

*

The two aliens spoke for a long time in their snarling, guttural tongue. Daria could see only E’Var’s reactions, and as expert as she was in projecting the outward appearance of okayness while internally hemorrhaging emotion, she could easily read his rising frustration behind his sarcastically genial mask. Tagen’s voice remained quite calm. She was glad she couldn’t see him. She didn’t want to see anything but calm in his face.

She really hoped he wouldn’t go Hollywood on her. If Tagen promised to let this bad guy go just to let her live, she was going to slap him silly. Yes, she knew E’Var was probably going to kill her, and yes, she knew it was probably going to be a very bad way to die. But if he was going to do it anyway, she wished he’d do it fast and open himself up to Tagen’s fire.

Gosh, she was taking this well. And to think, last month she’d had a full-out panic attack when Troy had tried to cop a feel on her in the kitchen. Now she was the rope in an alien tug-of-war, peacefully contemplating her impending horribly painful death. Life was funny.

Then, without warning, E’Var cut her open with one pass of one claw—a long cut on her forearm, but not a deep one. She tried to shout, choked on the barrel of the gun in her mouth, and grabbed at the wound instead. Oddly enough, there seemed no malice in E’Var’s face when he’d hurt her and he was again ignoring her as he spoke to Tagen. But it wasn’t long before the conversation was over. E’Var cocked the gun and said just one thing more, his eyes narrowing.

Silence then. The whole woods were waiting.

And when it was done, E’Var smiled thinly.

‘Tagen,’ she thought, sighing. ‘You idiot.’

“Start walking,
ichuta’a
,” E’Var said, and gave her a little nudge to the back of her throat.

Oh
hell
, no. This was
not
going to end this way. Daria had been a lot of things in her life of which she was miserably ashamed, but she refused to be the girl in the movies that everybody in the audience rolls their eyes at and just
hates
for making the good guy give up, especially since out here in the real world, there were no script-writers standing by ready to draw up a highly-implausible happy ending.