Part 8 (1/2)

She felt no more than a pinp.r.i.c.k just before the Commander reached around her to s.n.a.t.c.h it away and smash it to the ground.

”Leith!”

”I think we overreacted,” she said just before white-hot pain seared her shoulder blade and spasmed through her muscles. Her whole body stiffened, and she couldn't move her right arm at all. With difficulty, she lifted her left arm and slapped her hand on his chest, her fingers closing over the soft material of his jacket. She clung to him to keep from toppling over.

”J-J'Qhir-I found-water,” she whispered before the pain increased to an intensity she could no longer bear. She fell into his arms as she allowed her mind to shut down, then knew nothing more.

Wrapped in the solar film, J'Qhir fed the fire. How he had managed to do all that needed to be done before nightfall chilled him into immobility defied logic.

For one moment, one small portion of a heartbeat, he had almost succ.u.mbed to his despair. He considered plunging the stinger from one of the dying creatures into his own flesh and ending it all. Because in that one everlasting moment, he thought Leith had died in his arms.

She had lain as still as a stone, no breath pa.s.sing through her pale lips. As he contemplated the thought of his own demise, her body convulsed, the shudder rippling through her like a wave. She breathed again. Shallowly, tortuously, but she breathed.

Carefully, he turned her over and tore her s.h.i.+rt away from the spot where the huge insect had stung her. The b.u.mp was as large as his fist. He unsheathed his knife. He couldn't take the time to fight his way through the brambles, hobble to the flightpack and jacket where she'd left them in the clearing, and fight his way back again. The poison would have time to work its way through her system, and she might be truly dead before he returned. He could only hope the blade was clean enough. He inhaled sharply, held her body on its side, and made the first incision.

Clear yellow fluid spurted from the cut. He sliced again, across the first. He squeezed, letting the poison drain to the ground, until only blood flowed freely, clean and red, and the lump had diminished to no more than irritated flesh.

He was loath to leave her, but he needed the medkit now. Awkwardly, he crawled to the nearest thorn bush. He couldn't leave the thicket the same way they had entered it. He grasped the thick stem close to the ground and yanked. The soil was dry and loose, threaded with spindly roots. The bush pulled free easier than he could have hoped for. It didn't take long to clear a path.

He retrieved the flightpack and jacket from beneath the tree where she'd left them and returned to her side. In the medkit, he found packets clearly marked. He spoke her language more fluently than he could read it, so he wasted precious minutes trying to decipher the lettering.

Gently, he wiped the area with a small pad soaked in an antibacterial solution. Then he dusted it with antiseptic powder. He applied a skinseal to compress the wound and stop the bleeding.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her chest shuddered with each inhalation. He laid his fingers along her wrist. The pulse was not as strong as he thought it should be. He knew next to nothing about humans. Compared to a Zi heartbeat, hers was much weaker. Perhaps it should be so.

Dried blood smeared her ivory skin from cuts on cheek and arms, but none were serious. He too had suffered scratches from the thorns, but they would heal rapidly. Their minor wounds could wait until he had them encamped for the night.

Leith said she had found water. Now, he had to find it again.

He could leave her to hunt for the water by himself. He could follow her trail more quickly unburdened by her weight. Then he would return for her and carry her directly to the water source even more quickly. That meant two trips on an injured leg that could crumple beneath him at any moment. The alternative was to carry her with him now. He was unsure if he could even lift her.

The sun had moved closer to the mountaintops, and J'Qhir was aware of every second he spent in indecision. Leith would be appalled at his lack of command. Think, stupid Rep! he chastised himself using her language in his mind.

He couldn't leave her unprotected. What if the horde of flying creatures returned?

J'Qhir tried several ways to lift her to his good shoulder and rise with his good leg, but her weight overbalanced him. He couldn't find enough leverage...or enough strength to withstand the pain that clawed at his injured limbs when he tried to use them.

He had to build a litter.

By the time he found two suitable branches and entwined them with enough vine to hold her weight, the sun was much closer to the mountaintops. He mindfully rolled her onto the litter and placed the flightpack and jacket between her legs. He dug in the pack for the canteen and found it full.

He poured a little through her lips. Her throat automatically worked to swallow. After she had taken in a few sips, he turned the canteen up to his mouth. He gulped the fresh water, draining the container. He needed the liquid, and he didn't plan to stop again until he reached the water source.

Using the laserlight, he burned the path clear of branches and roots. He lifted the litter poles and started at a steady pace.

From the clearing he went ”north”, as she had called it, and easily found her trail. She had broken many branches along the way. He smiled briefly. Leith was capable of much more than she thought. Her broken trail would lead them directly to the water source. Spring or stream or ocean, he didn't know. Only water.

Pain was his constant companion. After a while he could no longer remember what it was like not to hurt. Each time he set down a foot, the jolt sent a laserblast throughout his lower body. Every b.u.mp of the litter jarred his aching shoulder. Soon the two blended into one unending wave that undulated along every nerve. Liquid filled his eyes, but he never lessened his pace.

As the chilling winds of evening stirred around him, incessant pain prevented the natural lethargy from overtaking his senses. He remained alert enough to continue placing one foot in front of the other. Each step taken was a step closer to survival.

He came upon the stream before he knew it. In his fugue state, he took too long to react to the realization that flowing water lay in his path. He plowed to a halt only after his boots sank ankle-deep in the muddy bank. He dropped the litter where he stood. He would make camp here, close to the water's edge.

He stumbled around in the twilight, dragging his leg, as he gathered wood. Somehow he had built a fire. Somehow he had found the film and wrapped it around his shoulders. Somehow he had located the small metal pot and filled it with water. All of these things he did, but now he had only a vague recollection of performing the tasks.

When he touched Leith an unnaturally high heat radiated from her flushed skin. He covered her with her jacket. He used several of the diaphanous cloths from the medkit to dip in water and wash her brow. The packets were marked gauze-a strong word for such flimsy material.

Now, after drinking his fill of fresh water and eating half a protein bar and a handful of nutmeats, he was warm and more clear-headed. He picked up each packet in turn from the medkit and squinted into the firelight. He hissed at his failing eyesight and wished he'd thought to bring his gla.s.ses. He'd left them aboard his wars.h.i.+p on the desk in his cabin, which was no larger than the detention cell on the Catherine McClure. If his personal belongings hadn't been removed yet.

His disappearance-no, his apparent defection-would allow the Council to effectively eradicate his entire existence as well as bring dishonor to his clan. His distant relatives would be bewildered by this turn of events, but they would accept the Council's decision with grace. His clan would lose their land grants, mining rights, and their seat in the General Council. They would, in effect, be ostracized by society.

Elder M'bat'h would have no qualms about making the p.r.o.nouncement. He followed the ancient Code to the letter. Elder P'hi'in would be smug. And poor Elder S'huhfh would be uncertain, but he would agree, cowed by the stronger personalities of the other two Council members.

With a hiss, J'Qhir turned his attention to the medicines. Many packets were labeled ”to reduce fever”. He tore open several. The small white pills fell into his palm. Leith would not be able to swallow them. He crushed four of them into a powder and mixed in water. Holding the cup to her lips, he was able to get her to drink all of the mixture. He spent the next few hours bathing her smooth forehead with cool water.

Later, J'Qhir dozed and dreamed of the Bh'rin'gha. A part of him knew he dreamed for he often experienced this vision of an imaginary past when away from his home world. As the dream concluded, he cried out and jerked upright, slos.h.i.+ng water from the pot. The gauze cloths fell from his cramped fingers. He blinked at the firelight and looked to Leith.

He laid his hand on her forehead. Less heat emanated from her skin. He fumbled with the packets of fever reducers, crushed the tablets, and dissolved them in water as he'd done before.

”Leith,” he murmured as he eased his arm under her head and put the cup to her lips. He had twisted his leg upon awakening and now his knee began its rhythmic throb. The tablets were also for eliminating pain, but their supply was limited. He had no idea how long Leith would suffer the fever. He could endure the pain. ”Drink, Leith,” he coaxed.

At the sound of his voice, the fringes of hair on her eyelids fluttered open revealing dilated eyes. Her hand wavered in the air then rested on his arm.

”Commander,” she whispered. She blinked until her eyes focused and squeezed his arm. ”J'Qhir...”

”Drink, Leith.”

She swallowed the concoction, made a face and shuddered at the taste.

”Y-You found the stream?”

”Yesss. I followed your trail of broken branchesss quite ea.s.ssily.” He removed his arm from under her head. She wouldn't release his other arm. He set the cup aside with his free hand.

”What happened, J'Qhir? I don't remember-”

”A flying creature ssstung you.” Tentatively, he covered her hand with his. ”I drained the poissson immediately, but sssome ssseeped into your sssystem. You have a fever.”

”Thank you for taking care of me.”

A bit of warmth crept into his face. ”Are you hungry? Do you want water?”

”Water.”

He held the canteen, and both of her hands grasped his as she drank. When she had finished, she would not loosen her hold on one of his hands.

”Leith, I need to change the dresssing.”