Solar Heat

by Susan Kearney

  She shot at the First and missed his heart. But the com unit dropped from his hand. He screamed in pain and held his arm to his chest, but she sensed another attack coming at her. From Derrek. The First had him in his Quait.

  She adjusted her blaster to stun, aimed, then fired at Derrek, who was just rising to his feet. He dropped to the ground unconscious. Now she had only one man to worry about—the First. But he’d disappeared into the tree line.

  Should she follow him or stay with Derrek? She’d never had to make such a difficult decision, one that tore at her, clawed at her. She’d just stunned Derrek. He’d awaken in pain, blame her for betraying him. If she wasn’t here to explain . . . he’d think the worst. However, as much as she hated to leave Derrek unconscious and unable to defend himself, she couldn’t leave the First out there. He might reconnect with a unit and bring back help, or if he had a second weapon, he might simply wait and shoot down the hovercraft if she and Derrek attempted to escape in it.

  With a heavy heart, she slipped into the forest and began to track the First. In the waning moonlight, she picked up the telltale sign of smashed grasses where the First’s feet had left their marks. Clearly unskilled in the woods, he’d fled at a dead run, breaking branches that left a trail easy to follow.

  She’d hoped to at least stay near Derrek, but now that would be impossible. There was no telling when the First would stop running, but she couldn’t let him escape. Azsla took off after him and settled into a pace that, not so long ago, she could have kept up for hours. However, she hadn’t ever thoroughly recovered from her ordeal in space. Her muscles still weren’t quite accustomed to planetary gravity, making her run much harder than it should have been.

  It didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten in hours or that she hadn’t drunk enough water during the night, either. Or that the rising sun and every step that took her away from Derrek made her feel as if she were abandoning him forever. She could only hope that the First in front of her wasn’t accustomed to thinking independently and would tire quickly. Because almost always, a man could run faster than a woman. Their bodies possessed more muscular strength.

  She could make up for her lack of speed only by resting less. Adrenaline helped speed her through the first few miles. Occasionally she heard her prey crashing through underbrush. He could set up an ambush behind a tree, a fallen log, or make use of any of a half-dozen natural inclines for cover. But she couldn’t slow down too much, or she’d lose him. And as dawn brightened the sky, she worried about the passing hours.

  She yearned to get back to Derrek. The idea of leaving him on the ground where he couldn’t defend himself against hungry wild animals sped her tired legs almost as much as the certainty that if he awakened before she returned, he’d believe she’d betrayed him. She was wondering if she should give up and turn around when she spied a straight shape. In nature, nothing was perfectly straight. Although she couldn’t identify the object, that linear abnormality set off internal alarm signals.

  At the hiss of the cannon blaster’s trigger, she dived for cover. The singe of blaster fire burned her bicep.

  Ignoring the pain, she scrambled behind a broken stump, realizing the First had her pinned down. With the sun lighting the clearing, she was an easy target. While she’d been thinking about Derrek, the First had chosen his spot well. Around her, there were few trees. If she moved from behind the stump, he’d have clear shots at her.

  Azsla swore softly. She was going to have to wait out the entire day until it was dark again to make a move. And by then, Derrek would have been awake for quite some time.

  Would Derrek understand why she’d shot him? Even if he did, that wouldn’t make the painful awakening of his nerve endings any more pleasant to bear. Compared with the burn on her arm, what he’d endure would be agonizing.

  Just to see if the First was still there, Azsla tossed a rock and heard the zing of blaster fire. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Neither was she.

  DERREK REGAINED consciousness in slow stages. He noted that everything hurt. His fingertips, his toes, and every nerve ending in between. The worst was the pain behind his eyes, as if someone had shorted out his vision with a stabbing hot poker.

  Disinclined even to attempt to open his eyelids, he took short stiff breaths, the rise and fall of his chest painful. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop breathing. On the other hand, he had no reason to even try to do more.

  He’d been stunned.

  This wasn’t the first time, so he recognized the sensation, knew that his body would completely recover with time. Trying to speed recovery only delayed the process. So he held perfectly still, then recalled Azsla had shot him to stop the First from using Derrek against her.

  Had she survived?

  Bracing against optic pain, he forced open his eyes. Bright daylight and the overhead sun told him he was well into the next day. From his position in the grass he couldn’t see her. He listened and heard nothing but the wind. No voices. No breathing. No one puttering at the hovercraft.

  It was as if he were totally alone, with a five hundred ton hammer banging his skull from the inside out. He knew instinctively that Azsla wouldn’t have left him, if for no other reason than she needed his help to get off Zor. So either she was lying there injured, stunned, or dead, or she’d been taken prisoner. None of the options pleased him.

  Although he knew the pain would be excruciating, Derrek had to know if she was still alive. He shoved one hand into the ground, clutching the grass, and pushed himself into a sitting position. Thousands of white-hot nerves burned as if he’d dropped into boiling lava. He took one look around the clearing but didn’t see her before the blackness closed in on him, and he passed out again.

  When Derrek next awakened, the sun had moved in the sky, indicating several hours had passed. It was now late afternoon. His mouth was dry, his tongue swollen. Desperate for water, he reached for his canteen, fumbled with the top, and finally gulped fluid, spilling some down his shirt in his haste.

  But his parched throat eased, and he forced himself to sip slowly. While the pain lingered in his nerves, it was down to a manageable level.

  He sat up slowly and with a sinking hardness in his gut saw that Azsla was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the other First.

  Derrek tried to link with Azsla on his com, annoyed that he hadn’t thought past the pain enough to use it sooner. He didn’t speak, just clicked it twice and waited for an answering click.

  He got nothing.

  Shoving to his feet, he tried again, hoping his height would send the signal farther. He didn’t have much hope, so he was shocked to hear an answering click.

  Was he imagining things?

  Again he clicked, and this time he heard her whisper, “Derrek.”

  “Where are you?” he whispered.

  “Tomar has me trapped.”

  “Tomar?”

  “I got one look at his scarred face before I dived behind a tree. I’m waiting for sunset to escape.”

  “I’ll come—”

  “No. You’re weak after that nerve blast. Stay with the hovercraft.” She cut off the link, no doubt fearing he’d gotten a lock on her signal and would come after her.

  Derrek sighed and linked to Sauren. “Azsla just sent me a com. Can you locate her?”

  “Sure, boss man.”

  He appreciated that Sauren didn’t ask questions. Within micronbits Sauren had beamed Derrek her satellite locator position. “Thanks. I’ll be home soon.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  No kidding. “Understood.”

  “Word about Katadama has leaked out into the general populace. People are panicking.”

  “Understood.”

  Derrek could only imagine the chaos back in the cities. Everyone would be desperate to make it off-world. He was glad that h
is people and their families would be safe, but a heavy weight pressed on his heart for the rest who wouldn’t survive. They’d all come here to make a new life, a better life as free people. There had been no guarantees, but they’d all worked hard to build a new world. To have the Ramans ruin Zor in one deadly blow was too much to bear.

  Although he knew that Sauren would protect Beta Five from rioters, just as Taylo would keep working on a plan to destroy Katadama, their efforts might not be enough. Derrek had no idea where they would find enough food and air and housing for the people who’d gone to the asteroids. Somehow . . . they would make do. But for all of them, the future looked dim.

  At least Derrek could rely on Sauren and Taylo, and that eased his mind a bit. He couldn’t think about saving the world just yet, not until his daughter and Azsla were safe. However, knowing that Sauren was in charge back at the base left Derrek free to think about what he must do next. Estimating he might just make it to Azsla’s location before dark, he drank the rest of his water, preferring to carry it inside him than have it weigh him down, and confiscated extra provisions from the dead.

  Perhaps he could fly the hovercraft to her. He climbed inside, but the keys were gone. A quick check in the pockets of the dead men revealed that neither of them had the keys, either. So Derrek had no choice but to proceed on foot.

  Derrek now had two reasons to go after the First. To save Azsla and to recover the keys.

  The water he’d drunk had helped to revive Derrek, but his body still hadn’t settled down. Running was going to pound his already raw nerves, but there was no help for it. That hovercraft was the best way to take his daughter to safety, and he needed the keys. Besides, no way was he leaving Azsla behind.

  He would have gone after any member of his team. Despite the fact that she was a First, she deserved to be treated as well as anyone else who’d helped him. And he couldn’t leave her pinned down to die. Not when Taylo might need her tactonic knowledge to build a device to blow Katadama to pieces before it crashed into Zor. Not when just the idea of her dying made him tremble.

  He shouldn’t have taken her with him, but at the time he’d just learned she was a First and didn’t trust her out of his sight. He’d also been thinking about saving his children and hadn’t realized how dangerous this mission would become.

  Bringing her with him might have been a mistake. One he had to rectify. Derrek had to find her and hoped his weakness was only due to the aftereffects of the stunner and not to hypothermia or dehydration. Because not only was his body rickety, he wasn’t thinking clearly, either. Only focused concentration and discipline stopped him from running full tilt into the forest.

  Forcing himself to think, he picked up a cannon blaster and some ammo and draped it over his chest, then spied a pair of binoculars and took those, too. He marked the clearing in his mind and into his com link so he could find his way back, then with every beat of his heart urging him to run, run, run, he headed for Azsla. Teeth gritted against the pain, he set off at a painful lope, determined to conserve his energy.

  He set his com to vibrate every quarter hour to take his bearings. With sweat pouring off him, he’d dehydrate and weaken without fluids and reminded himself to keep a sharp lookout for any sign of water. He lucked out twice during his afternoon run, refilling his water supply from small streams. Still, the precious liquid only made the journey possible. Between the heat, the pain in his every joint, and his fear for Azsla, the run was more nightmare than disciplined trek.

  Derrek ran for miles, stopping only occasionally to drink and to check his direction. As the sun began to set, he finally closed in on the open meadow. Wearily, he dropped to the ground and finished at a crawl, careful to remain behind bushes, his energy depleted, but his resolve to save her just as determined as when he’d awakened.

  Careful not to let the dying sun reflect off the binocular lenses and give away his position, he found Azsla easily enough. She was pinned behind a stump in the center of the meadow, with no nearby cover.

  He recalled her saying she would sneak away at night, but barring the thickest fog or the blackest night, the First would pick her off the moment she broke from cover. Tonight the sky was clear, the moon bright and shiny. Talk about underestimating the danger. If she came out from behind that stump, she’d be fried.

  To help her, Derrek had to find Tomar, then sneak up on him and take him out before the other man sensed his presence and immobilized him with his Quait. And he needed to do it all before Azsla made a move that would likely get her killed.

  To save her, he might need to ask her to use her Quait on him again. But he feared if he contacted her that she’d send him away and try to escape alone—which in his opinion would be a death sentence, for him, for Tish, and for Azsla. And he couldn’t argue with her for fear of giving away his position.

  So he shaded his binoculars from the moonlight and searched the underbrush for the First. He saw boulders, dense berry thickets with spiked vines, and dead underbrush between green split-leaf plants. Finally he found the First. He sat propped against a tree, his weapon resting in the crotch of two branches and aimed at Azsla.

  Derrek raised the binoculars until he could see the First’s scarred face. Tomar. He’d never seen the First before, but like all his kind, he was tall and fit, with a haughty sneer on his lips that shot a chill down Derrek’s spine. He’d forgotten how intimidating that natural-born superiority could be—a superiority that suggested that anyone who inconvenienced him would be reduced to slime.

  Derrek had only one advantage—Tomar didn’t know Derrek was here. If Derrek wanted to keep his presence a surprise, he had to move silently, slowly.

  Retreating on his belly until he was certain he was out of Tomar’s sight, Derrek focused on one movement at a time. After he’d gone far enough, he spread mud on his face and arms to help camouflage his flesh. But the entire time he prepared, he couldn’t help but wonder why Tomar hadn’t called for assistance. Probably, he either wanted the pleasure of the kill himself, or he was so egotistical, he figured he required no help.

  Muscles screaming, Derrek circled in a slow crawl until he came up on Tomar’s back. But the First had his back to a large tree trunk, and again Derrek didn’t have a shot. If he moved to one side, he’d risk the other man picking him up in his peripheral vision.

  As the moon began to rise, flying, biting bugs descended. The mud protected Derrek, but Tomar kept swatting. Finally the man stood with clear impatience and taunted Azsla, “You might as well come out and let me shoot you. You’re only putting off the inevitable.”

  “You want me? Come out of hiding and get me,” Azsla shouted back.

  Derrek prayed the taunting would continue, distract Tomar as well as cover any noise he might make. He was now close enough, if only the man would step from behind the tree. But he didn’t.

  Tomar was too smart for that. He maintained his position, pulling out a water bottle to quench his thirst. “If you come out now, I promise your death will be quick.”

  “I like breathing just fine. Thank you very much.”

  “You should have thought of that before you turned traitor.”

  Reminding Derrek how easily sound carried, Azsla’s sigh wafted all the way across the clearing. “I have done nothing that will hurt Ramans.”

  “You’re insane from that crackpot Corps training,” Tomar roared, obviously having learned about her secret mission since their last encounter in space. “You didn’t just fail to report on Zoran weapons status, you helped slaves escape.”

  “What difference does that make? You intended to execute them. Freeing them hurt no one.”

  “You insulted our way of life. Encouraged unrest. Those slaves were to be an example of what happens to radical extremists.”

  “Slavery is wrong.”

  Derrek inched closer. A few more feet, and he could haul him
self upright, reach around the tree, and slit Tomar’s throat with his knife.

  But at the sudden roar of a hovercraft overhead, one he hadn’t heard sneak up on them during the shouting match, he realized time had run out. If he waited another moment, Tomar’s reinforcements would arrive. Taking on one First was almost impossible. Taking on more than one was suicidal.

  Derrek lunged. He must have made a noise or moved too slowly. Tomar shifted slightly, and Derrek’s knife sliced the First’s cheek instead of his neck. Blood spurted but not enough. He’d missed a critical artery.

  But worst of all, Derrek’s greatest fear slammed down on him. As the man roared with pain and rage, Tomar’s Quait seized Derrek, freezing him.

  Totally helpless, Derrek could not move. Couldn’t defend himself. Couldn’t call out or speak. The horror of failing, of being unable to die fighting or trying to defend himself set into his bones with a clawing fury.

  Derrek expected the First to fry him. Or torture him slowly. Either way he was dead. He’d failed Tish and Azsla. Tad would grow up without a father.

  Dying right now was so damn inconvenient. He’d just reconnected with his children, and now he’d lose them before he really got to know them. He’d never see them grow into adulthood. Never see them meet their mates. Never learn if Azsla was truly friend or foe.

  He was done. His best hope . . . was a swift death.

  Derrek heard a blast and braced for great pain and oblivion.

  But he felt nothing.

  No pain.

  No burns.

  It was Tomar who dropped to the ground, dead. And Derrek was obviously freed of his Quait.

  Shocked, he looked up to see Azsla running toward him, her blaster smoking. His mind began once again to function and take in details. Put together what had happened.

  Azsla had shot Tomar. Saved Derrek’s life.

  But with the roar of the hovercraft flying down, there was no time to speak, never mind say thanks. They had mere seconds to flee before they’d be fired on. As Azsla sprinted to him, Derrek reached into Tomar’s shirt, seized the keys to the hovercraft, and stuffed them into his pocket.