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 segment, 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.
Darkness had settled over the desert agricomplex several hours ago. Orin still wasn't back. Nalina was desperately worried. She sat huddled in the back of the pump house on Orin's air-filled pallet with Lanimer sleeping beside her. She didn't dare turn on the light Orin had left them. It was safer in the dark.
Lanimer stirred in his sleep, and Nalina cuddled him in her arms, clutching Orin's laser gun in one hand. In a while, her arms began to cramp, so she laid the child gently on the cushion beside her, covering him with Orin's field jacket. Then, she sat and waited some more.
It was lonely in the dark with only the sound of hers and Lanimer's breathing for company.
What if Orin never came back? The question raced through her mind over and over again. He had saved her life---hers and Lanimer's. She hadn't even thanked him. She never let Orin know that she appreciated the things he did for them.
Nalina realized she'd never let herself see him as just a man. So, he was a Tregan. But he really was different from the others. She thought back over the things Orin told them about himself. She could see him in her mind's eyes being dragged from his home in chains by the Commander General's men. When brainwashing didn't work, they used pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. The word echoed through her mind.
A lump filled Nalina's throat. How they must have hurt him! No, Orin couldn't be one of them. They had seen to that. She believed him, now. She cared. She must have stared into the darkness for hours, remembering everything that had happened since Orin rescued them. Alone in the dark, it was hard to fight the panic rising up inside her.
He's dead. He must be dead. He would have come back by now. Mother of Life, where could he be? Finally, Nalina decided to wait until dawn, then go out and look for him---maybe bury him. She nearly sobbed aloud at the thought. She wouldn't let Orin Hart rot in the hot desert sun. The last thought comforted her little as she drifted into a restless sleep with the laser gun still clutched in her hand.
A sound. The metal door grated against the concrete floor, and Nalina sat bolt upright. Instinctively, she raised the gun and took aim at the bulk of man filling the doorway. She didn't notice at first that he was leaning heavily to one side against the frame. Nor could she see his face against the sunlight streaming through the doorway.
"Aw, hell!" he said in a raspy voice. He stood his ion rifle in the corner by the door. "I was fool enough to hope you might be glad to see me."
Nalina's mouth dropped open. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Still, she held the laser aimed at his massive chest.
"Hey, if you don't want me here, just say so. I'll go. You don't have to shoot me."
The gun fell from her hands. "Orin!" she whispered. Nalina jumped up and launched herself at him. She nearly knocked him down as she threw her arms around his neck. "Orin---I thought they killed you." She pressed her cheek against his throat and started to cry. "You should have let me help you. I could have done more than just wait." She pressed her lips against his Adam's apple.
Slowly, wondrously, he put his arms around her. His thigh burned and ached, but he didn't care. It felt so good to hold her; he wanted to savor the moment. So many times, he'd longed to hold her. He wasn't sure she was real.
Nalina stopped crying and pulled back to look up at him. "Are they gone? Are you all right?"
"Yes---not exactly," he said quietly in Zevian.
They were gone, all right. Orin had killed them one by one and then loaded their bodies into their own transporter. He sent them back to Elran by way of Lake Lessat, 250 kilometers north of their agricomplex. Elran was 60 klicks south. When he finished, exhaustion overcame him, and he took refuge in some rocks for the night. It took him until dawn to find the strength to hobble back to the pump house.
"I mean, they're gone but, I'm not exactly all right." In truth, he could barely stand, yet he didn't want to let her go. He needed her warmth to shield him from the terrible things he'd done to keep them all alive.
"You're not?" Nalina finally assimilated what he'd said. "Where are you hurt?" She pulled back to get a better look at him, her eyes anxious with concern. Her gaze fell on his thigh where the heavy fabric of his trousers was burned away. His flesh was charred and oozing. Nalina gasped.
Orin grinned weakly. "Don't worry. It looks a lot worse than it is." He started limping toward his pallet where Lanimer was slowly rousing from sleep.
The boy greeted Orin with a gleeful smile. "I knew you'd make it," he cried and hugged Orin fervently.
"I'm glad somebody did." Orin hugged him back then flopped over on his uninjured side. He'd never been so tired in his life. He wanted to say so much to Nalina, to feel her soft warmth in his arms again. He just didn't have the strength. Orin started to close his eyes, then opened them again as Nalina knelt on the pallet beside him. She'd found some burn salve in his pack, and she seemed determined to apply it to his ugly wound. Though he gritted his teeth at the searing pain, he had to smile, listening to Nalina heartily curse the Tregans for nearly killing him. She used the same curses on him barely half a month before.
If only he weren't so damn tired. The salve soothed his pain nearly as soon as it was applied. Orin sighed, and his eyelids drooped shut. Orin felt her lips softly touch his cheek, and then her breath tickled his ear as sleep drugged his mind. "Sleep well, Orin. Sleep well." She paused and let out an uneven sigh. "I love you."
Before he could answer, she jumped up. He heard the pump house door scrape shut, and Orin groaned. She hadn't given him the chance to tell her---he loved her, too.
Orin didn't realize until hours later when he finally came back to the world of the living that Nalina already knew.