Unexpected

by Pippa Jay

  “I’m all right.” He tried to calm his pulse and breathing, to get his head together. “Not good with tight spaces.”

  Bewilderment answered him, and he laughed. “Dumb, I know.”

  “It’s...odd. But then, you really aren’t designed to travel through small spaces easily.”

  “That’s true.” He levered himself up into a sitting position. They were in another valley, edged with the spiny ridges of steep cliffs. He wouldn’t have known it as any different to the one they’d just left, if not for the fact of crawling through that tunnel. “Now where?”

  “This way.” She tugged him to his feet and led him on.

  “Where are we going?”

  Soraya hesitated, and he sensed her doubt. Conflict. For once she wasn’t confident. And something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Sadness? Why?

  “You need a ship to leave. To survive. I could keep you alive even when your air runs out, but it would be a miserable existence for you. So you must take the other ship.”

  He jerked her to a halt. “You’re crazy. You think they’re just going to let me take it?”

  Soraya stared, a frown wrinkling her face. “There must be a way.”

  Yoran snorted. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure they’d happily take me off this rock in a body bag.” Hurt threaded into his awareness, and he dialed back his frustration. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault and you’re trying to help.” He took both her hands, squeezing reassurance. “I’m not ready to die. They have weapons, and they sure as hell won’t have them set to stun like I did. There’s no way we can overpower them and take the ship. And if we did, what then? I should leave them here to die instead? Kill them?” He shook his head. “I’m not a killer, and I don’t want to be, not even in self-defense. Whatever may have happened between us, I wouldn’t do that to Chevelle and her family. Or the shame it would bring to my parents. And I’d be hunted for the rest of my life.”

  “You don’t have to kill them. If you had control of their vessel, wouldn’t they have to bargain with you?”

  Yoran wasn’t sure. More likely they’d get killed trying it, but what other option was there?

  He glanced at his wrist monitor, at the rapidly depleting oxygen supply it registered. He had moments to decide and take action, whether it worked or not. A quick death would be preferably to suffocating on this planetoid’s surface.

  “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.” He winced at his unfortunate choice of phrasing. “Can we get around behind their ship?”

  “That was my intention.” She gave him a smile that warmed him more than hope, and led him on.

  By the time they saw the ship, Yoran felt light headed. He wasn’t sure if it was purely psychological as the oxygen levels on his wrist monitor continued to drop, the lighter gravity here, the prospect of what lay ahead, or perhaps all three. The ship sat as though dead, its weapons no longer firing, but he could hear the clinking sound of metal cooling above the sound of his own panting. His own ship lay a scorched and molten mess of metal that wouldn’t have made decent scrap, let alone useable spare parts. He paused, his gut hollow. They really had no choice. If he couldn’t figure out a way to take the ship, he’d die anyway.

  “This way.” Soraya’s reassuring presence in his mind was the only thing that stopped him bolting off to hide, other than his own desperation to survive. They crept toward the rear of the vessel where the emergency hatch lay, but a movement sent Yoran flattening them both to the ground. “Wait!”

  “What is it?” Soraya didn’t protest being crushed under his body. She gazed up at him trustingly, though with a flicker of surprise in her thoughts. For an instant he stared down at her, at the polished ebony curve of her lips, the metallic sheen of her skin. The press of her alien flesh beneath his, as soft and molding as the human woman he’d known. Beautiful, despite her alien origin and the strange color of her skin. Beautiful in her heart and soul, because in that respect she was everything Chevelle was not. Chevelle had been smart, gorgeous and strong-willed. But she’d also been selfish, cunning, and occasionally cruel. She’d taken Yoran’s offer to shame himself, to give her everything she wanted, with barely an atom of gratitude and not a word of protest. He had wanted to make her happy, though not like that. He had sacrificed everything for a woman who took it and left him with nothing but bitterness and angry, murderous brothers on his back.

  Soraya was everything Chevelle wasn’t. She’d risked her life to help him, even taking an alien shape so that she could continue helping him. The look she gave him now was the one he’d always dreamt of seeing on Chevelle’s face, the adoration and trust, even desire. Emotions he had never glimpsed even as he had granted her freedom.

  “Soraya...” His voice had gone husky. Perhaps it was just as well his mask separated them. He had no idea how she might have responded to his kiss, or what might happen to either of them if he had. He couldn’t violate her trust and innocence in that way with such a base human need at the most inappropriate time.

  “What is wrong?” Confusion marred her face. “Yoran?”

  He yanked himself off her, cursing the hard knot of need in his core, and the aching hardness farther down. What the hell are you thinking, you drek-head? Just because she was kind to you doesn’t mean she’s willing to let you make out in the rocks. She won’t even understand.

  “Nothing. I saw...something.” He peeked back over the edge of the boulder he’d pulled her down behind, heart pounding. It must be the lack of oxygen or impending death at the hand of Chevelle’s brothers. He was acting like an ass. Or worse.

  Close to the ruins of his ship, two people in suits were poking about in the wreckage. Yoran tried to hold his breath, certain that even at this distance they must hear his lungs rasping and the thunder of his pulse.

  “If they are over there, then perhaps the ship is empty?” Soraya rested a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged her off like a lump of drek had landed on his shoulder. Hurt bled into his awareness. No. He couldn’t let her touch him right now. He couldn’t let her hear what he’d been thinking. He shuddered as he thought of the band around his wrist. Damn. She probably knew all ready.

  But all he sensed from her was sorrow and pain at his brusque gesture.

  “I’m sorry.” He sucked at this. No wonder Chevelle had fallen for someone else. No wonder she hadn’t wanted him. Really, he’d got what he deserved.

  “What shall we do?” Despite her pain, he still read her concern for his wellbeing.

  “We try the hatch.” Hell, the least he could do was get himself away from her before he did any more harm and tarnished what little respect she might still have for him.

  The hatch wasn’t locked, a stupidity really. Though Yoran guessed they hadn’t bothered with normal procedures on a dead planet where they only expected to find and kill one living thing. He probably wouldn’t have bothered with security checks and the usual lock-downs either.

  Yoran led the way as they crawled in through the emergency hatch. Unlike the tunnel that had set off his claustrophobia, the short, well-lit and less confining passage into the ship’s engine room was bliss and barely set off a shudder. He helped Soraya through before resealing and locking the hatch on the inside so no one else could pull the same trick. He’d have to get control of the ship to lock the main doors from inside, but that would depend on if anyone else was on board and who won.

  He stripped off the protective gear and gripped his gun. Anxiety radiated from Soraya.

  He grabbed her wrist. “It’s okay. It’s only set to stun. I’m not going to kill anyone, I promise.”

  She gave him a half smile and her apprehension dropped. Funny how he could pick up her emotions so easily. They crept up to the control deck hand in hand, her grip warm and sure.

  Someone sat in the control chair, feet up on the console as he watched the view outside. Yoran tensed. He couldn’t tell who it was exactly from the few tufts of brown hair showing over the top of the seat and the polished tan boots
they wore, though the shine suggested Torvik. Of the three men, the eldest was the fancy dresser, and most likely to send his siblings out to do the hard labor than go himself.

  “Put your hands in the air and stand up.” Yoran cursed silently at the tremor in his voice. He’d done a lot of dumb stuff in his life, but hijacking someone else’s ship was a new one.

  Nothing happened for an instant, before the man leapt from the chair to face him. It was Torvik, and luckily for Yoran he was unarmed. Torvik, all set to spring, nonetheless raised his hands as ordered on seeing the gun Yoran held.

  “I knew you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to just sit there in your ship and wait for us to blow you apart,” he said, his voice as polished as Soraya’s glowing skin. He stood as if quite relaxed about the situation, malice glittering in his dark eyes, but Yoran noted him watching the weapon being aimed at him with the attention of a sniper. He’d only have to lose focus for a millisecond for Torvik to try taking him down.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t come back sooner to be sure.”

  Torvik shrugged. “A mistake. But we watched you go down, knew the planet’s atmosphere was hostile and we weren’t reading any life signs. My bad. I’ll see Nenek learns to check better in future.”

  Yoran gave a grim smile. Of the three brothers, the youngest had hated Yoran’s guts the least. He almost felt sorry for what Torvik would do to him.

  “He wasn’t that far off. I have my friend to thank for changing that rather fatal prognosis.”

  Torvik flicked a glance at Soraya, a mixture of lust and revulsion in his face. “Interesting. I didn’t realize this rock was inhabited. What is it?”

  Anger flared up inside him. “She is none of your business.”

  Torvik looked her up and down. “I could make her my business.”

  Yoran stepped forward, rage flooding him, but Torvik just smirked. “Temper, temper, Yoran. You know, it’s one thing to shame our sister by rejecting her, but then finding yourself an alien lover that can take her shape is quite revolting. What’s the matter? Couldn’t handle a real human woman?”

  “Yoran?” The hint of warning barely made it through the blind fury that burst inside him as he threw himself at his opponent. Torvik sidestepped with a disparaging snort, and caught Yoran with a sharp blow across the back of his neck. Yoran fell hard enough to knock the breath from his body, and the blow left him dizzy. In that instant Soraya was by his side, helping him up, soothing warmth running through his body. But Torvik now had the gun, adjusting the setting as he spoke.

  “You know, you should have just died. I’m half-tempted to drag you back so I can hang you from the tree outside your parents’ house, but the wind might carry the smell of your rotting corpse over to our property. So I’ll settle for leaving your body here to...do whatever dead meat does on this freaky lump of rock. And maybe I’ll take your strange friend back to our planet as a memento. I’m sure they’d all find her fascinating as an exhibit.”

  Yoran stood, breathing heavily. Torvik raised his weapon, and from the deadly red glow Yoran knew it wasn’t set to stun. This was it. He was going to die after all.

  Torvik fired, and a fountain of silver and black rose up between them.

  “Soraya, no!” The beam hit her, fierce red lightning that flickered over her and blinded Yoran, before exploding in a blaze of crimson and droplets of silver that spattered the inside of the ship. Torvik stood there, mouth hanging open, the weapon loose in his hand.

  Anger throwing him forward, Yoran dived at Torvik, and they rolled across the floor grappling for the gun. Right now he wanted to kill the man, and if he got the weapon he would. Fury set his heart pounding madly, darkened his vision. He crushed Torvik’s hands in his hard enough to hear bones grinding and not caring that some were his own.

  With a yelp, Torvik let go and Yoran jerked to his feet, gun in hand. He pointed it at the prone man, hand shaking and with the setting still on kill.

  Torvik lay panting, his lip bloodied where Yoran must have caught him in the struggle.

  “Go ahead,” he jeered. “Kill me. You’ve already proven yourself a coward, running away from your obligations and your vows. You don’t have the guts to shoot.”

  Yoran could barely hear for the blood pounding in his head, fighting to breathe. Soraya’s silvery fluid form covered the inside of the cabin, dripping from the walls, but otherwise not moving. Has she been destroyed? His one ally murdered. All he’d been trying to do was make Chevelle happy, and now her brothers had killed Soraya.

  “You don’t know how wrong you are,” Yoran whispered, barely keeping his voice or his hand steady. He wanted to kill Torvik. But he remembered how distraught Soraya had been at the idea of killing. Her sole existence had been dedicated to saving lives, even at the cost of her own. “But I’ll settle for this.” He clicked the setting to stun and shot Torvik, watching with satisfaction as the man’s body jerked and convulsed before going limp. He wouldn’t wake for a couple of hours, and he’d hurt for a damn sight longer.

  Chest aching, Yoran dropped to his knees and chucked the weapon aside.

  “Soraya?” Yoran stared at the scattered remains, droplets of silvery liquid than ran from the walls and surfaces to pool on the floor. Unlike when he’d shot her with a stun level weapon, these didn’t rejoin to form a whole. They lay limp and unmoving in their separate puddles. As if they were dead.

  He glanced at his wrist. The fluid band Soraya had given him was gone.

  Panic lanced through him sharper than a stun shot. “Soraya?” He reached for the nearest puddle, and paused for an instant before plunging his hand into it. “Soraya?”

  “Yoran.” Her voice in his head was a whisper so faint he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “Hurts...”

  “What can I do? Please, tell me there’s something I can do to help you.”

  Her presence in his mind was a tremulous shadow, so close to being extinguished forever. “Engine...”

  “What?”

  He sensed her fighting to pull herself together enough to talk. “Engine...core.”

  The core? Yoran remembered how she’d glowed after working on his fractured energy core, how she’d explained about removing the harmful radiation from the ship. Remembered her basking in the sunlight. “You want me to put you into the core?”

  “Yes... As much of me as you can gather...” Her voice faded away, and no amount of calling her name could summon it back.

  Locking down the ship to prevent the others getting in, Yoran scooped up as much of Soraya as he could find and dashed for the engine core. He didn’t bother to suit up. Brief exposure wouldn’t kill him, and the difference in seconds it would make might destroy any change of Soraya recovering.

  He flipped open the containment unit, and poured her into the chamber, before sealing and flushing. The silvery fluid vanished into the fiery bright of the core chamber.

  “Soraya?” No answer. Of course, there wouldn’t be without a part of her in contact with his skin to allow them to communicate. He waited, counting heartbeats to measure the time until the numbers muddled in his head. Nothing. No sign that Soraya even still existed. If he waited any longer, the damage he was exposing himself to by staying there would creep beyond repair, even with help. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from the dangers of the engine core, and went back to the command deck.

  Torvik still lay sprawled on the floor, and Yoran started. The others would still be outside, and he had no idea of when they might return. He smiled grimly. Well, he’d make sure they got a reception they weren’t expecting when they returned. First, he dragged Torvik into the storage bay and used binding ties on the unconscious man’s wrists and ankles. No point taking stupid risks now. Then he sat himself in the pilot’s seat and waited for the brothers to return, trying to keep his mind off Soraya. He couldn’t help her if he ended up dead.

  He got plenty of warning. Estyn called in, his voice edged with annoyance that grew when Torvik didn’t respond.

/>   “Feck it, Tor, if you’ve dozed off while we’ve been sweating in these suits looking for a ghost, I swear I will—”

  “Let’s just get back inside.” Nenek’s tired response said the youngest brother had had enough of the whole situation. Yoran hoped that meant he’d give up without a fight. Estyn had a temper, but Torvik was always the leader and the smartest of the three. With Torvik down, only Estyn’s hot head stood between doing this the hard way or the easy.

  He waited outside the airlock as the two remaining brothers entered, then removed their spacesuits. Nenek came out first, and his eyes widened at the sight of Yoran, but he raised his hands straight away.

  “Nenek, get out the damn way—” Estyn shoved him aside, then froze as he saw the reason why. As expected, he roared and made a run at Yoran, who shot him with more satisfaction than he cared to admit to. Soraya might have been ashamed of him.

  “None of this was my idea,” Nenek ventured when Estyn stopped twitching from the stun shot.

  “I know.” Yoran gestured toward the fallen brother with his weapon. “So if you’ll do me the favor of tying him up, I’ll do you the favor of not shooting you.”

  “Fair enough.” Nenek did as he was told, and even dragged Estyn down to the storage bay with a lot less care than Yoran might have. When he gave the youngest brother a look, Nenek shrugged. “Being baby brother sucks,” was all the explanation he gave. Then he turned and offered his hands to Yoran for binding.

  “What will you do with us?” Nenek asked as Yoran finished, a trace of nervousness setting his voice quivering.

  “Something a lot less terminal than what you tried to do to me.”

  Nenek grimaced. “I don’t blame you. But is there any chance you could put me somewhere separate?”

  Yoran gave him a smile. “For being the lesser jerk of the bunch, I guess I can do that.”

  “Thanks.” Nenek sank awkwardly to the floor against the far wall. “And good luck.”

  Yoran gave him a nod, shut the door, and headed for the command deck.