About sixty miles from Elran, life in the abandoned pump house fell into a daily routine for the odd threesome sheltered there.
Nalina still treated Orin with wary aloofness, but she didn't seem as frightened of him as she was fifteen days ago. Maybe it helped that he took the trouble to learn some Zevian from them. Now Orin could talk directly to her without needing the little boy to translate.
Their days were busy. They foraged for fresh food from the cultivated fields and tried to coax some scrawny bushes to bear fruit by carrying water to them. The previous bombardments had knocked out the automated irrigation system, the house and the other out buildings. Many of the plants were dying for lack of water in the scorching desert heat. So the three watered as many plants as possible to keep them producing the food, they needed to survive.
During the evening meals in the darkened pump house, they each talked about their past lives. They never dared to look toward the future because it didn't look very promising for any of them.
At barely twenty, Nalina was orphaned during the bombardments at Lake Lessat. The village had been razed while Nalina was working at Mikal's agricomplex. She lived there with him and his two young wives, serving as governess for Lanimer. Mikal's two wives worked---Lania as an interpreter at Medrin Starport, and Merris worked in the mine outside of Elran. Mikal had been a Master Technician at the Elran Medical Clinic. He'd been hoping one day to complete his physician's training so he could become a physician like his old friend Hankura.
"All those dreams are gone now," Nalina's voice was thick with emotion. "He and his wives were all I had left. I think Mikal was beginning to care for me---maybe enough to make me his third wife. I could have been house mate for all their children. Merris' baby would have been born just before winter solstice. Maybe next year I could have born a third child for Mikal." She sniffled. "Now they're all dead. No one even buried them."
"I buried them---side by side," he told her. "I'm sorry they died. I thought they would make it, I wanted them to make it."
"So you buried them to salve your conscience?" Nalina's tone was sarcastic.
"I'm not like them! I hate them!" Orin asserted.
"If you hate the Tregans so much, why do you wear their uniform? Why do you look like them? What makes you different from those murderers?"
"My genes may have been strung together in the same pattern as theirs, but Nalina, I wasn't raised as an animal and conditioned to become a ruthless killer from childhood as they were.”
"I grew up in Veldis Lar before the Tregans took it. My host mother and her mate raised me with the same love they would have given a naturally conceived son. We were warned in time for my parents to escape, but the soldiers found me. Because I looked like the other soldiers, the Commander General had me dragged from my home in chains. They tried to break me on Tregas. Two months of brainwashing and survival training and they thought they could make me into a soldier. Ha! That kind of brainwashing only works with the young ones before the mental shield is fully matured. They figured pain would work instead."
Orin shuddered. "I pretended to be like them so they wouldn't kill me. I didn't want to die. Then, they sent me here to kill people who never did anything to me. But, they're the ones who made my life hell, so I killed them."
He fell silent for time, staring out into the darkness through the doorway of the bunker. The things he had seen since he came to Zevus Mar gave him many sleepless nights. He could still hear that Zevian girl screaming in his dreams as Damon tortured her. He should have killed Damon then---before he had the chance to hurt anyone else. But then, they would have killed him on the spot.
Orin wished he could stop feeling guilty. At least he had saved Nalina and Lanimer. They were safe now, and they could take care of themselves.
"You won't have to worry about me anymore, Nalina. I'll be gone by sunset tomorrow," he said abruptly.
She gasped. "You're just going to leave us here?"
"Do you want me to stay?" Orin's eyes mocked her, and he laughed. "It's been two weeks, and you're still terrified of me. You've been scared so long; you see only a soldier---not a man. You'll be glad to see the last of me."
Even in the darkness, Orin could see that she wasn't glad at all. But she was too proud or too stubborn to say so.
"Do you want me to stay, Nalina?"
"I don't know," she murmured with a defensive shrug.
She gave a sharp cry as Orin seized her arm and forced her to look into his eyes with his other hand. "Don't you, Nalina," he demanded in a hushed whisper? Her eyes went wide with fear, and she shrank from his grip.
Orin let her go before his emotions took control of him. He jumped up and stalked out of the bunker into the cool night air. What had he expected? He might as well face it now as later. That's how they would all feel about him.
As a deserter, he was a lost man with nowhere to belong and no one to care.
Nalina looked up at Orin, he thought, rather contritely when he came back to the bunker the next morning. Maybe it was relief he saw in her eyes as she searched his face.
Orin shook his head and sighed, lowering himself to the floor against the opposite wall from where she was sitting. He'd come back to say good bye. That was a mistake. It would have been easier to walk away if he hadn't looked into her soft dark eyes again. Orin gave Nalina a sad smile and reached into the plastic bucket beside him for one of the last pieces of fruit there.
He tossed it to her and she caught it, offering him a shy smile. She bit into it as Orin watched intently. She looked good in the red suit he had found in the wreckage of the house. Her gown was in tatters, and he had nothing that would fit her small frame. With a couple of cuts and tucks, Nalina had made the boy's tunic, and pants fit with some ornamental pins from her gown.
Orin hadn't thought her pretty at first, but she was soft and feminine. In her own way, she was very attractive. At times, she was almost beautiful---especially when she smiled at Lanimer. If only...
He shook his head and got up. There were no if-onlies in his present, only reality. "I'm leaving now. You'd better go out to the orchard tomorrow and see if any more kwashes are ripe." He bent to pick up one of the sweet red and yellow globes for himself. "There's plenty of food. You two will be fine here."
Nalina nodded but did not meet his eyes. Disappointment stabbed Orin. She wasn't going to ask him to stay.
Lanimer watched them both, sensing the undercurrent between them. Even Orin's tight mental shield couldn't entirely hide his emotions from the young telepath. Sometimes, adults were just too dumb to see what they should do. It wasn't their fault they weren't mind readers like him. He wanted to tell them a thing or two. But, he knew from experience that it wouldn't do any good. Adults didn't care that he was a telepath. He was just a kid. What did he know?
Zev was in its yellow morning phase as Nalina and Lanimer watched Orin pack his gear. When he finished, they followed him out of the bunker with murmurings about picking some fruit before it got any hotter.
Orin stopped short, barely two meters from the doorway as a whining sound filled the air around them. Nalina and Lanimer bumped into him.
"What is it, Orin?" Nalina asked in alarm.
"A military transporter," he told her grimly. "There could be anywhere from six to twenty men inside. Back in the bunker, both of you! If they start looking around, they'll know someone is living here. They won't stop looking until they find us."
Orin didn't add that he doubted they would take any prisoners. By now, the military would have figured that he had killed the other soldiers at Mikal's agricomplex. He would be lucky if they killed him on sight. Otherwise, he would wish for death many times over.
Inside the pump house, Orin took out all their weapons and put a fresh power pack in his ion rifle. He gave Nalina his military issue laser, which was more powerful than hers then put hers into his pouch for a backup weapon. Then, he strapped on his canvas pouch belt and put several extra power packs for his rifle inside it.
"Nalina, stay here and keep Lanimer inside with you. Don't come out for anything until I tell you to. If they come, shoot them . . . And if I don't come back stay inside until morning. Maybe they'll think I was the only one here."
As Orin turned to go, he felt her hand on his arm. There was fear in her eyes, but it was a different kind of fear than he'd seen before. She was afraid for him not of him.
Mother of Life! She was so small and vulnerable. He hated to leave her unprotected. But what else could he do? His best chance to protect all of them was to second guess the other Tregans and try to draw them away from the bunker before they got close enough to see it.
They were already too damn close to suit him. He didn't dare think what they could do to Nalina and Lanimer before he could stop them. Orin looked away from her dark eyes as the vision of Damon torturing that girl shook him again. He shuddered as he saw Nalina in her place.
"Keep hope, little one." He managed a tight smile as he stared into Nalina's somber dark eyes. "My life won't come cheaply to them if that's my destiny. I won't let them hurt you!"
Then, he turned and strode out of the bunker, unable to look back.
Orin saw ten of them as he lay on his belly under some brush on the rise above where the transporter landed. From scraps of conversation that drifted up, he knew they were looking for him while they checked the outlying complexes for refugees. They'd missed their morning meal, and they planned to stop to eat before they searched this complex.
Orin knew the procedure. They'd pair off and divide the complex into sectors. Each pair would walk their sector, keeping in contact with the others through their helmet coms. The deserter had to bide his time. He could only monitor their progress by sight and sound. He'd taken the com out of his helmet and destroyed it so they couldn't home in on its signal and find him.
Soon, the Raiders finished eating and started to move along the south side of the complex---away from the pump house to Orin's relief. He watched and waited with his rifle poised.
Two men came closer and closer, carrying their rifles poised in front of them. Orin decided to give them the same chance they would give him---none at all. He clenched his teeth and fired with calculated precision. The two men fell dead.
Nausea threatened Orin's churning stomach, and he swallowed hard against the bile that rose in his throat as the smell of death reached his nostrils. They were probably his biological brothers, but that didn't matter. Killing them was the only chance Nalina and Lanimer had to survive.
Orin passed an assessing gaze over the area around him. He held his breath for several seconds to listen. Then, he slowly raised himself to a crouch and ran for cover. A searing pain shot through the length of his right thigh, and he dove behind a tree sheltered rock. He landed hard, grunting in pain. This time, the burning flesh had been his own.
Zev was coming into its red phase as Hankura inched along the barracks wall of the prison camp. He was still clad in the dirty blue service uniform that declared his rank of Chief Medical Officer of the Searching Star. His muscles tensed with each step, and his skin felt cold and clammy with sweat in spite of the heat.
Half a month ago, he would have been horrified to even consider what he was about to do. Hankura was a physician sworn to save lives, not a soldier, hardened to war. But he wasn't thinking in terms of taking lives. He was only thinking of saving Chelle and ending the torment they'd shared at the hands of the Tregans.
Hankura stopped at the corner of the gray metal building to listen again. He took a deep breath and drew another laser gun from his pouch. He felt his heart racing with the adrenalin surging through him. Taking a deep breath, he leaped around the corner firing both weapons at once. Both guards fell, but one reached for a weapon. A narrow beam burned through the ragged material on Hankura's upper arm, searing a few layers of skin. Hankura killed the Tregan, barely aware of the pain.
With trembling hands, he took the dead men's weapons and stowed their bodies behind some bushes. He put the extra weapons in his pouch and holstered one of the two he was using. As he turned to open the barracks door, he sensed Luran was moving toward the door. A Tregan was dragging her.
Hankura reached into her mind to share his plan.
Surprise and excitement echoed back through his mind as she felt his mental touch. Hankura, how?
Never mind! Do as I ask, and I'll get you out.
Luran questioned no further. Just before the Tregan started out the door, she planted her feet and threw her weight backward. As the soldier turned to grab her with both hands, Hankura shot him. As the soldier fell, Hankura grabbed Luran's wrist and pulled her out the doorway, slamming the door shut behind her.
He motioned for her to help him stow the third body behind the bushes with the others. Then he handed her two of his collected weapons and questioned her without speaking:
How many more guards? Where are they stationed?
Four. They're supposed to be on watch in the compound, but they come to use us this time each day.
Hankura's eyes narrowed, and he was filled with a cold fury. He drew a calming breath and let it out, clearing his mind to consider their next move. Once he devised a plan, he shared it with Chelle and Dana, and the other two telepaths inside. They passed the unspoken message to several of the Normal crew women. Then they waited, looking to Chelle for the next signal. Her mind was open to Hankura now, and she waited, too. Moments passed, and they hardly dared to breathe. Then, Chelle jumped up from her filthy pallet and seized Tira by the arm. She dragged her friend up to her feet with all the strength she could muster.
Tira, play the game. It means our lives. Chelle flashed images into the Zevian's mind as their eyes met. Then she slapped Tira's face and shook her. "You little bitch! I'm sick of you watching me all the time. I'm sick of this stinking place, and I'm sick of you." Understanding what was expected, Tira began to struggle convincingly with Chelle. At the same time, some other altercations exploded into a brawl that brought all four guards running.
Outside, Hankura glanced at Luran. Lady, I know you hated target practice as much as I did, but I hope you still know how to shoot straight. It had been a long time since weapons training classes for all of them.
I'll have no trouble hitting them! Luran assured him with a fierce gleam in her brown eyes.
Hankura nodded and flung open the door. Guards had run from four directions to stop the women's brawl. Hankura and Luran charged into the chaos and took careful aim so as not to hit the Zevians or the crew women. Three Tregans went down to laser fire, but a fourth drew his laser and took aim at Hankura.
Chelle saw him and reached for the dagger in her boot. With a fierce cry, she lunged and drove it deep into the Tregan's back. Blood spurted on her hands; the Tregan's shot went wild and hit the ceiling. He grunted in pained surprise, choking on his own blood, crumpled to the floor and died.
Chelle sank to her knees and stared at the blood on her hands. She trembled with weakness and shock. After a moment, she rose and wiped the blood on her dress. As she looked up, she met the eyes of her husband and took a tentative step toward him. Before she could reach him, she was swept into a group of women who hugged her and praised her for the brave thing she had done.
For a moment, Chelle felt herself transported back to Earth, to the past. She was a child of the streets of Farringay where she'd fought the vicious gang wars with her brother Jerry. Then she hadn't acted quickly enough. Jerry was killed. Killing the man who did it had brought her little satisfaction because Jerry was still dead. Chelle mentally shook herself.
Hankura was alive. His eyes were bright with emotion as he made his way through the crowd of women toward her. Chelle hardly noticed the scraggly beard that covered his jaw and slightly cleft chin. As she stared into his emerald eyes, her own filled with tears. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she could face this man who had shared her life so intimately for the last seven years. She felt defiled and somehow unworthy after what Stag and Mograton had done to her. Hankura felt her reluctance, but he didn't hesitate. Laser still clutched in his hand, he folded her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, tangled and dirty, dulled by neglect. After a moment, he leaned back to look at her. The rag she wore barely covered her, and her face was gaunt and bruised. And, Mother, she was nearly skin and bone!
But she was alive! Mother, thank the gods she was alive!
Chelle trembled under his gaze and tears streamed down her cheeks. "Goddess, Hankura! I can't believe you're really here after . . .."
"Stagg and Mograton?" he finished bitterly and pulled her close again. She started to sob against his shoulder. "Shh, shhh." He rocked her in his arms and stroked her tangled hair. "They won't ever hurt you again. I killed them---the bleeping sludge worms."
"Oh, Hankura!" She raised her eyes to his in a troubled look.
I know. I can't even consider what I've done. It's not over, either. We're going to have to fight our way out if we want to stay alive. His mouth tightened into a thin line as he let his thoughts tell her what he could not give voice to. The pain would come later when he was no longer numbed by desperation to the bitter duty that had fallen on his shoulders.
Hankura holstered his laser and gently released Chelle. He squatted down beside the guard she had killed and took the laser from his hand. He stripped the weapons belt from the body and gave it to Chelle with the laser. She took the weapons without comment and strapped the belt loosely over her now boyishly slender hips. The holster hung low over her upper thigh, but it would do.
As Hankura watched her, he noticed the trickle of blood down her inner thigh and bit out an oath... He wanted to kill Stagg and Mograton all over again for perversions that had injured her so. Yet it wouldn't wipe the pain from her eyes or the memories from their minds.
"Don't think about that now." Hankura jumped up and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you. Nothing they did to you could ever change that. Nothing ever will change what I feel for you." Tears filled his eyes. The mingling of their pain was nearly overwhelming, but he was soothed by the warmth of her embrace. He felt her reaching into his mind, reaching beyond their ordeal. He smiled faintly and blinked back his tears as she sent the image of a big blue yarrel flower into his mind. It was their private symbol of the love that had blossomed between them since that first meeting of their minds. In that love, they found a well of inner strength that would continue to sustain them as it had the past fifteen days.
"We're getting out of here, or we'll die trying," Chelle vowed. "I won't let them touch me again."
"We're getting out alive!" Hankura asserted. His grim determination made Chelle believe him. All they had to do was figure out how.