Gema scowled at him. “Why are you here? And where is the swarm?”
He wanted to kiss the pursed lips until they got soft and yielding as they’d been before.
Kellac pulled out the globes and dumped the contents on the ground in front of her. “They have a power source. Power isn’t the problem. They aren’t getting a signal. A few days without a signal and they shut down.”
She frowned again, but this time at the globes.
“Where does the signal come from?”
“The Viewcast ship, I suppose. They are very similar to a military viewer commonly used during battles. Those have a directional source on the Front ship.”
Up close, she looked delicious. Her cheekbones had taken on an apricot hue, and there were more golden freckles dotting her up tilted nose. Both characteristics were absent from PureGen humans, who invariably had straight noses and skin which did not react to the sun, but he found them attractive. The freckles were lickable. She’d taste salty…
“It’s probably going to storm again,” he said to stop his wayward thoughts.
She glanced at the sky. “My home world was similar to this in the summer. Really hot sticky days which ended in thunderstorms. Later on the days would get less humid, and there would be less storms which was good for the harvest.”
Well, she is going to talk to me. Kellac sat down in the grass, relieved. His uncomfortable depression lightened instantly. The silence between them had left him feeling lonely and tense.
“I didn’t grow up in an agricultural setting, so I have no knowledge of farms. Food production on New Prague is done under domes, and much is imported from other worlds. I grew up in the capital city, which is weather controlled. But I had some wilderness training in the military, in different locations.”
“The Allied Force?”
“Yes. My brothers are part of the New Prague Protectorate Guard, but I chose to join the Terran Allied Forces. I wanted to see more of the system, visit other worlds. It was exciting, traveling all over the sector, seeing different worlds. Unfortunately I got into the legal snarl on Toph. Though I am certain it will be resolved.”
He watched a bead of sweat slide down her neck to the cleavage of her breasts, since she was only wearing her undergarment. He wanted to taste it.
She flushed, since he didn’t hide his examination of her breasts, and turned back to her sapling. “I have lots of grass on top of my lean-to to stop the rain. But I want to put saplings across the grass to hold it in place. Weave them and tie them down.” She sawed vigorously at the tree.
Her hair was tied up in a knot with a thong, showing her neck, shoulders and upper back. He examined the pattern visible on her shoulders, noticing the symmetry and delicate whirls, glinting with a mother of pearl shimmer.
It is like jewelry. Beautiful.
His eyes drifted down to her round bottom, aided by the fact she was now bending over to hack at the tree. A separation between her waistband and top showed more mother of pearl. How far does it go down?
“What are you cooking?” He walked over to the fire pit. A thick pot made of coiled river clay simmered on the coals. “When did you make this pot?”
“A couple days ago. I found directions on the com. I finished firing it yesterday so made a soup this morning. Wild garlic, onion, cress and those little hoppers.”
“It’s a nice pot.”
“Yes, it would be smart to have something bigger than the little pan we have. This way I can cook one meal, then have food for the whole day. The pot is big and heavy enough to cool in the stream, too, so the food stays fresh. I made a lid for storage. I had to borrow salt from our stores, though. Natural salt would be a valuable thing to find.”
Gema knew he was staring at her back while she sawed away at the tree. She’d seen him look at her breasts, too. He was probably trying to decide if he could overlook her disgusting scales in order to enjoy the rest of her.
She sucked in a breath as her breasts suddenly felt full and heavy, and a sensitivity developed between her thighs at the anticipation of having sex with him again. She had tried not to think about it, but she wanted to be with him again, touch him, accept him deep inside.
Gema sawed harder until the sapling was finally free. She tucked her blade in its sheath and dragged the sapling toward the travois. Kellac helped.
“Do you want to eat? I have a bowl and a cup, so we can eat at the same time.”
He did.
The soup was savory and far tastier than anything they had eaten since starting the game. That, in itself was a cause for celebration. Before long they chatted as if the breach between them hadn’t happened.
“I want the canopy of the tree over the grass,” she said. “I’ll weave the thin saplings and branches through it.”
“I’ll haul this back to camp and come back with the travois.”
“By then the pot will be cool enough to load on it.”
“I understand.” Kellac headed toward the dugout pulling the travois, when he looked back for a glimpse of Gema and saw a flash of gold in the woods. He froze and searched the woods. There, another one. Those slinky predators, the pack they saw sometimes heading down toward the river. They were moving downstream toward Gema! He dropped the travois and ran through the meadow toward her, shouting. A rush of memory of the of the auroch stampede flashed through his mind. Gema would be safe, he’d warn her. She could stop them with her Zh Cle’ power. His feet pounded through the thick grass, out of breath, more due to panic than the distance he’d run.
He came to the clearing. A growl and a flash of gold in the grass met him. He was face to face with one of the beasts. It snarled, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.
“Gema,” he breathed at her. She had turned around when he spoke. A moment passed and neither of them moved, neither did the beast. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. She’d been moving the pot from the fire, using an old shirt of his to hold the hot handles and she still clutched it. Suddenly she swung the pot up and let it fly. Hot liquid splashed through the air and some landed on the beast, which yowled and flipped, and rushed back upstream to its pack with a howl. The pack fled, slinking and disappearing into the forest.
Kellac ran forward and held her tight. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.
“I can’t herd those,” Gema’s voice was muffled because he had her head pressed into his chest. “They’re not ruminants.” She pushed away from him and he reluctantly let her go.
“You didn’t stop it with your thoughts.” The realization she'd rescued him while he’d been in danger—perhaps deadly danger—went through him like a shock wave. She must care for him. She risked her life for him.
“My pot.” She rushed to the clay vessel and smiled. “Look, it’s fine. One of the handles broke off, but it will still hold liquid.”
Kellac took a deep breath. They were safe. Even her pot wasn’t ruined. And she cared for him, even if she was angry with him. “You can’t sleep outside the dugout, Gema. It is just too dangerous. Think about it.”
She looked at him, her eyes huge, as though trying to see inside his mind. “I agree.”
They walked back to the dugout in silence, eyes on the thick meadow grass searching for the pack.
Later Gema brushed her teeth at the river deep in thought. He thinks I am a dirty disgusting Bug. She was in danger of forgetting. He was born and bred a PureGen. They looked at Natural humans with disdain, and their view of Zh Cle’ were far worse.
Kellac was nearby, but they had separated as they used to do before they became lovers, to wash before their evening meal and bed. After they became lovers, this had become a time for a sweet, passionate interlude on the riverbank.
Kellac came around a stand of trees and stopped, staring at her. She wore her bodice and shorts, but her bodice was wet and probably transparent, from the way his eyes were glued to her chest.
“If I’d known you were coming I would have put on my shirt.” She was gratifi
ed to see a flush rise on his cheekbones.
“Sorry. I’ll call out next time we are cleaning up at the river.”
They walked back to camp without talking, still keeping a vigilant eye out for the golden predators. Gema thought they were some type of large weasel or mink. The aroma of the cooking food must have drawn them. They had decided to only cook within the fenced area from now on.
Back inside the fence Kellac turned and inspected the lean-to. “Now what? You’re sleeping inside the dugout, right?”
“ I want more grass so the ground isn’t so hard. Then it’ll be time to eat again.”
“For the dugout right? We’ll continue to sleep inside where it is safest.”
She gave him a long look.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“Alright.” She spoke with her face turned away from him, afraid he would notice she was near tears.
“We probably need fresh grass inside anyway.”
The soup pot was on the edge of the fire. Gema added a little wood and some greens harvested from the river. Then they walked to the meadow, Kellac pulled the travois. They pulled and piled grass onto it, unloaded the grass in the dugout, replenishing their beds, then sat down at her kettle.
“Tomorrow I’ll make more soup. Enough for a couple days. Stream snails, a couple mollusks, some grubs, some greens and. High protein.”
“Quite a variety of food.”
“Yes, I used the list on the com.”
“That reminds me, I wanted to look up some things on the com.” Gema handed it to him.
They ate to the sound of distant thunder, and then washed up quickly before the rain came so there was no food scent near the dugout.
Gema crawled onto her grass pile. After the heat of the sun all day, she now felt a little cold and the warm blanket on top of a huge pile of grass felt warm and cozy. Safe. But she was not safe! She’d seen the way he looked at her, eyes all over her breasts… he still wanted her. And she still wanted him. Her whole body tingled when he looked at her, her breath got shallow. It would be so easy to give in.
He found her Zh Cle’ ancestry disgusting. What PureGen wouldn’t?
Here she was, once again wanting impossible things. As if a PureGen would ever care about her. She knew her wish was futile. Hadn’t she trusted a PureGen man before, thinking he would really care about her?
Still, Kellac had come to help her. It didn’t mean he cared, though. No, there was no point in thinking and wishing about Kellac’s feelings for her being deep. The most they would ever have would be a brief time together, while they were here for the game. A mutual decision to share their bodies while they were forced to be together for the game.
She yawned, weary from thinking about things she could never have. She fell asleep as the rain tapped gently on the thick roof.
Right outside the dugout, protected from the rain by the overhang of the sapling roof, Kellac searched for information on the cameras, military grade. It took him much longer than it should because his thoughts kept drifting to Gema… their times together, buried inside her …
It wasn’t her fault she was part Zh Cle’. She was under no obligation to tell him everything about herself.
He sat the com down and searched her out in the dark dugout. Her bright golden brown hair showed, and one white arm.
What did it matter, if she had Zh Cle’ blood? Time had shown the Zh Cle’ were not murderous savages, their societies were not far different than Terran ones. The early fears had developed into the PureGen Movement a couple hundred years ago had all proven false.
So why did he care? Because it was the unthinking convention of his Homeworld and family? Perhaps it was time to challenge those assumptions.
He hadn’t told her he was the third son of the Protectorate of his homeworld and he’d been raised in a palace with every advantage, in line for the hereditary throne of New Prague—not that he wanted it.
It wasn’t as if they were forming a formal union, with contracts and property and treaties.
He owed her an apology. He would talk to her in the morning. And maybe she’d be willing to come back to his bed… maybe she would have him again…
Chapter Seven
A loud roar jarred them awake. They scrambled out of their bedding and rushed out of the dugout into late evening light. The rain clouds had cleared off and there was still a band of orange low on the horizon.
A spacecraft appeared overhead.
“Oh, we are in so much trouble,” Gema said. “They are sending the transport for us. They’re going to throw us back into prison for destroying the swarm.”
Kellac’s attention was focused on the craft. He turned to her, eyes wide. “It’s is not the transport.” He ran around the copse of trees that now obscured the craft.
“What?” She trotted after him.
“It’s the Viewcast ship!”
She stopped walking and stared at him, shocked. “But those ships are supposed to stay in space.”
“Yes. It has no landing gear. It is going to crash.”
“No!” A cold wave of horror filled her.
“Watch.” The ship began to leave a trail of black, ugly smoke, and it dipped lower, closer to land.
“Maybe it will just land.”
“No, it’s going to crash.”
“Watch for—” Kellac pulled in a sharp breath. “—There!” He pointed to a small bright spot. “There’s the transport. It was hiding alongside the ship. An old evasive maneuver.”
The small ship angled away from the larger ship, moving swiftly in the opposite direction.
Soon the Viewcast ship dipped too low for them to see, though they could still see the black smoke in the twilight sky. A moment later there was a tremendous noise, rending the air. The ground rumbled. Kellac grabbed her to steady her. In the distance a fireball went up into the sky.
“I’d say the game is over,” Kellac’s tone was grim.
“What could make the Viewcast ship crash?”
Kellac’s face was serious. “Nothing good. I was looking at the com. They had some recent surveillance data from the Allied Forces, Intel about the Gorvas Armada.”
“Gorvas?” The name was familiar but she hadn’t paid too much attention to galactic news while in the pen. “Weren’t they on the far side of the Center Worlds Confederation?”
He grabbed the com and tapped some info in. “When the swarm was up we received occasional updates of galactic news. Ships of an unknown type had been reported out on the rim. I know a little about Gorvas ships because we think they took out my brother’s contingent. He was on Calai, overseeing a mining operation with some unrest. Then they were gone, almost to the man. But a few survived, with data.
“I think this sector has just been invaded.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the camp at a trot. “Quick, get the buckets filled. I’ll get food from the cache. We have to get back to the dugout quickly. We might need to hide for awhile.”
“Why?”
“They might not know about us, but if it is what I think it is, they have a weapon called a Strafe. They will comb this area for survivors from the Viewcast ship and the transport. They want to make sure no one remains alive to send a warning signal. The Gorvas are thorough.”
Gorvas. The name sent a shiver down her spine.
“A warning signal?”
“To the Allied Force. The next stop from here would be Toph and the other PureGen Worlds . They are the closest inhabited planets.”
Hands shaking, heart pounding in near panic, she filled the buckets at the stream and headed back to the dugout. A bright light caught her eye and she froze at the sight. A sheet of lightning swept over the black smoke of the crashed ship. There was a roaring sound.
“Hurry,” Kellac shouted.
She ran toward the dugout hampered by the buckets. Kellac threw down the rations he carried and ran to her. In one swift move he threw her over his shoulder and ran with her into the dugout.
&
nbsp; “I don’t know if it will follow a methodical pattern, or jump around. It has been observed to do both. But I think it will concentrate on the Viewcast ship crash site at first.”
He deposited her into the dugout. “Go back against the far wall. I’ll be right back.” He poured the half empty water buckets into the log trough and ran back to the rations, eyes on the sky. He flew back with the food and then stood with her in the doorway, watching the Strafe in the distance.
“Everything will be destroyed. The trees, the herds. Will there be a fire?” Gema started to cry at the massive destruction of the beautiful area. Far away the Strafe, a death comb, moved slowly over the area of black smoke.
Alien Blood (Diaspora Worlds) Page 7
