Farseek_Lietenant's Mate

by T. J. Quinn

  Nalina was conscious but disoriented. She didn't recognize Orin as a Tregan Raider. She saw only a man whose gentle hands pushed back her hair and held her head so she could drink from the cool water in the canteen that he held to her lips. Murmuring something in Zevian, she drifted back into her feverish sleep.

  When he had moved his charges to the shelter of the bunker, Orin pulled his compressed sleeping pallet from the pack and inflated it to make a comfortable bed for Nalina. After that, he gave Lanimer some food wafers from his rations. Then there was little else to do but wait.

  For nearly three days and nights, Orin waited while Nalina lay in a fevered delirium, taking food and water less often than he thought she should. He sat for hours, watching her restless sleep and bathing her delicate face with a cool, moist cloth.

  She isn't really pretty, Orin thought, but she has a nice face. Her hair could be beautiful if it weren't all tangled like that.

  Nalina was a native Zevian, a member of a golden skinned race that had originally colonized the desert planet. Darkened by the Zevian sun, her skin was now a rich coppery brown, somewhat darker than Orin's own tanned fair skin.

  Orin guessed that Lanimer's family were more recent transplants from one of the older colonies on Belderon or Aledus. The child would never say, but it was clear he wasn't a native even if he could speak the language like one.

  "Is Nalina ever going to get better?" Lanimer asked on the third day as Orin sponged her face yet another time.

  "I hope so," Orin answered in a grim tone. How the hell should I know? He was no physician. He had been a farmer before the Tregans dragged him from the only home he'd ever known.

  "She can't die. Mother told me that she would take care of me before she died, and it was Father's wish, too. It came to me here." He pointed to his head. "... Before their essence left their bodies. Nalina has to be all right. She just has to."

  "I'm doing the best I can," Orin told him. "But I don't have much medicine in my pack, and what I have isn't much good to Nalina. All we can do is wait."

  Lanimer nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have parents, Orin?"

  "I did once." Orin frowned and sadness filled his eyes. "I wasn't supposed to. Laboratory bred fighting stock aren't raised like other children. Only my host mother ran away from Tregas and the project before I was born. She settled on one of the farm colonies inside Federation Territory. The Tregans seized control of that system a few months ago, and they found me. The authorities hauled me away, but my mother and father escaped. I don't know where they are or if they still live." Orin sighed.

  "They tried to make me a soldier . . . Tried to make me forget they tore me from my home. But all of their training and brainwashing couldn't make me forget or make me like the others ...." Orin stopped suddenly. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened at the unspoken memories of torture that clouded his thoughts.

  "Why?"

  "I don't really know." Orin shrugged and slowly came back to the present. "The brainwashing didn't work. They couldn't make me a killer for their reasons---and it makes me sick to watch the others kill for pleasure. Killing isn't fun at all---not even when you think you have a good reason---I know that now."

  "You killed the other Tregans, didn't you?" Lanimer asked suddenly.

  "Yeah. It was the only way. I just couldn't watch them kill you and Nalina. "They had no right ...."

  "I wish you had killed them before they killed my father and co-mothers. I wish they didn't die ...." Lanimer's eyes grew bright with tears that he blinked away, trying to hide them from his new friend. He wasn't a baby anymore.

  "So do I, kid," he murmured huskily against the sudden tightness in his throat. "So do I."

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Physician's Woman

  It was growing dark in the lonely cubicle. Hankura shivered a little in the dampness of the old concrete storage bunker. Rubbing the dark growth of scraggly beard on his chin, he tried to see beyond the ensuing darkness. Was it fourteen or fifteen days since his capture on the Searching Star? He wasn't sure anymore. He only knew it was the end of another hellish day in this desert hole. Another day that he wondered if it would be the last day of his life --- his or Chelle's. Night time was the most dangerous time.

  The troops returning from day patrol took revenge on the prisoners for casualties suffered during their outing. He knew there were many; he had been forced to treat them. Now the Tregans wouldn't come for him again before dawn. But he wasn't worried about himself. He worried about Chelle. She was being held prisoner in the barracks across the compound with seventeen other crew women from the Searching Star and a dozen Zevian women.

  The Tregan dog soldiers had knocked him around and roughed him up some times since his capture, but they hadn't hurt him the way they hurt Chelle. The gods only knew why they hadn't killed her like they had many of the others. Since their capture, each night held him in terror of losing her. That was when Stagg or Mograton came and took her from the barracks to torment her until Hankura thought he would go out of his mind.

  His consciousness was joined to hers by a unique and unexplained bond that was sealed the first time their minds touched telepathically. Most of the time since then, this unique bond had brought him a kind of happiness that few men ever know in a relationship with a woman. But trapped in this Tregan prison encampment, he also learned the meaning of hell as he had never known it.

  Fury burned inside him at his helplessness to spare her from any of that torment. Separated from her as he was, he couldn't even hold her in his arms or offer her any physical comfort. Since they had done those hideous things to her, she wouldn't even share her thoughts when she found enough strength to concentrate on blocking him out.

  "I'll kill them!" Hankura swore under his breath over and over as he paced the cubicle. "I'll kill those bastards!"

  It made him even angrier that he had been forced to treat wounded Tregans while his beloved mate lay hurt and sobbing in the barracks after both Stagg and Mograton had taken their turns with her, yet again.

  "I'll kill them!" he swore again.

  Pacing the dark cell for a time, he raked his long surgeon's fingers through his dark hair and let out a deep sigh. Finally, he stopped in the corner of the cell and lowered his long, lean body onto the filthy pallet on the floor, knowing sleep wouldn't come until far into the night. Not until he knew Chelle was safe.

  Now that the troop carriers had returned, all he could do was wait and hope Chelle would be left alone. If only she would stop shutting him out. He loved her, and he needed to make her know that. Nothing those biological refuse had done to her could ever change that. "Ah, Chelle," he signed into the blackness, a lump welling in his throat. He needed her, too.

  Chelle crouched against the rough splintery wall, trembling as she sensed the approach of one of the Tregan dog soldiers. He was dragging the Zevian woman Chelle had come to know as Tira. Chelle cringed and hugged the wall when the heavy barracks door was flung open. She prayed desperately that she would not draw his fancy.

  As powerful a telepath as she was, she didn't know that she had been claimed exclusively by Stagg and Mograton, the two ranking officers of the encampment. At that very moment, they were gambling in Mograton's tent to decide which of them would have her for the night.

  Tira was semi-conscious as the soldier dumped her onto the wood floor. Without looking around, he turned on his heel and left the barracks, locking the door securely behind him.

  In the dim light, Chelle saw blood running down Tira's face. She whimpered as Tira hit the floor, but made no move toward the Zevian until the Tregan had gone. Two days before she'd moved too quickly to help her friend Kaara. She'd been beaten and kicked in the ribs for her trouble.

  Three ribs had been cracked. Finally, her efforts to heal them from within had eased the soreness a little. Psionic healing took a lot of energy that she didn't have in reserve with the meager portions of food that the Tregans gave them at erratic intervals. In her condition, heal
ing was a slow process, so she didn't dare to take any unnecessary risks.

  Weak as she was, the soldiers could kill her almost as easily as they had killed the others. And if she didn't escape soon, Chelle considered that she might be better off if they did kill her. Or she could simply stop living. It too was within her power.

  Mother of Life, Chelle. Don't do it. Don't even think it! I'll get you out, I swear. I never believed the Federation would desert us like this . . .. I'll get you out. Don't give up, beloved. There is no life without you . . . No love . . . nothing without you.

  Hankura's thoughts and emotions were so intense that she had to shut them out again. She had no strength to soothe or reassure him in the face of her own despair. Yet, even in the midst of his mind barrage, Chelle had felt his love---the one thing that could give her a reason to go on living when dying seemed easier . . . And almost more tempting.

  As soon as Chelle heard the lock click, she crept across the floor on her hands and knees to where Tira lay sniffling and gagging for each breath. She nearly cried with relief as she rolled Tira over and cradled her head on her lap. The blood was all coming from her nose, and she had no other serious injuries. Chelle ripped off a piece of the rag that served for a dress and carefully sponged the blood from Tira's nose and face so it wouldn't dry on. The women would receive no water until morning, and they would be expected to share what little they were given.

  "Chelle," Tira whispered. "Is he gone?"

  "For now." Chelle nodded. Through her telepathy, she had learned the Zevian language quickly. "What happened?"

  "There were four of them. I kicked the second in the groin where he keeps his brains, and he plowed his fist into my face," Tira sobbed. "Chelle, I was so frightened. I didn't know what they might do to me. They were drunk and talking mean because they found a bunch of dead soldiers at an agricomplex northeast of here."

  Chelle nodded her expression grim. Squeezing her eyes shut in the darkness, she didn't dare to think what might be in store for her. They had all heard about the missing company that was gone ten days overdue. Their bodies had been found rotting in the sun. Some had even been torn up by scavengers. Many of the men in the encampment had friends in that company. Whoever had killed them and had certainly done the prisoners at Elran no favor.

  "I-I think the bastard broke my nose," Tira gulped, gagging on the blood that seeped back into her throat. As the swelling increased, it grew more and more difficult for her to breathe. Chelle sensed her difficulty.

  "I think so." The telepath sighed wearily. Very gently, she framed Tira's bronzed face in her slender hands and softly stroked the battered nose with her thumbs. "I can't do much, but I'll help you breathe easier."

  Chelle took a deep breath to gather her waning strength and focus her mind. She mentally sought out the network of broken blood vessels and cartilage, drawing energy from her own life force to initiate and accelerate the natural healing process through the power of her mind. Her strength ebbed quickly, and she had to stop much sooner than she intended. Or she wouldn't have had enough energy to sustain herself.

  Trembling, Chelle took her hands from Tira's face and gently pulled away from the woman. She was breathing as though she had run klicks.

  "Are---are you all right, Chelle?" Tira asked. Her somber brown eyes filled with concern.

  "Yeah," Chelle breathed harshly. "Just great. Nothing a change of scene, good food, and some rest wouldn't cure." And Hankura, she added mentally, always Hankura.

  Chelle closed her eyes and continued breathing deeply, trying to collect herself. She didn't see or really sense Kaara and Luran coming toward her as she retreated inside herself, searching the very essence of her being for all the strength she could muster.

  Briefly, very briefly, she reached out to Hankura for reassurance and encouragement. He gave it to her, and she felt him trying very hard to restrain the other intense emotions that she couldn't deal with. She retreated soon anyway, and Hankura let her because he could do little more for her. Only through physical contact could he share the energy from his life essence and actually give her some of his strength as Chelle had done for Tira.

  His power as a healer lay mainly in his knowledge and skill in medicine, not in his psychic ability. Hankura's prime psychic talent lay in telepathy. He had the power to wipe a human mind with a thought---except the Tregan soldiers. They were immune to his power, or he would have already taken his revenge on Stagg and Mograton.

  Even Chelle's powers were useless against them without the aid of telepathic rapport. But he and Chelle were healers, not killers. Hankura kept telling himself that even as he devised a hundred ways to kill the men who had raped his mate.

  "You did it again---didn't you, Chelle?" Luran chided as she and Kaara knelt on the floor beside her.

  "I had to." Chelle's tone was defensive as she tried to see their eyes in the fading light. "Tira could have choked to death on her own blood."

  "And what about you? Chelle, you can't keep healing the others on the refuse they feed us. You're going to kill yourself . . ."

  Kaara warned.

  "So? What the hell's the difference if I kill myself, or wait for them to do it?"

  "Stop it, Chelle, just stop it!" Kaara gripped her shoulders tightly. "I've already lost Gray. I can't lose you, too. You know you don't want to die any more than the rest of us. What they're doing to us that makes you talk like that. Don't let them make you lose hope. The Federation will come and get us out of here."

  Just as Chelle was about to make a bitter reply, the door latch clicked. The four women dove for their pallets on the floor and pretended to be asleep. They lay paralyzed with fear as a hulking warrior tread across the rough plank floor. Another soldier stood waiting for him in the doorway.

  Chelle lay curled into a fetal position, shivering with fear as the heavy boots came closer and paused before her pallet. Not me, please not me! She pleaded silently as another shudder racked her slender body. Tears flooded her eyes, and she dared not breathe until the heavy boots moved on.

  But then he stopped before Kaara's pallet. Kaara, no! Chelle pressed her fist to her mouth to stifle a cry.

  The Tregan bent over her friend, grabbed a handful of soft blond hair and yanked Kaara up from her bed. "Ow! Don't!" she cried. The soldier sniggered and dragged her kicking and screaming to the door. Then he shoved her toward his waiting friend on the other side of the door.

  Kaara screamed a shrill, piercing cry. Chelle bit down on her knuckles and wept guiltily. Not Kaara. Mother of Life, not Kaara! Another blood chilling scream filled the night, and Chelle covered her ears, sobbing more loudly as she felt the fingers of her friend's pain and fear close around her mind.

  Chelle didn't hear the latch click a second time as Stagg opened the door. He had come to claim his prize. The Tregan Commander strode across the floor to where Chelle lay crying. He stood looking down at her for a moment and bent down to grab her wrist. She hadn't gotten her feet under her before he started dragging her toward the door.

  "No, leave me alone! Leave me alone!" she cried hysterically and struggled against his grip. Stagg only laughed. Her struggles didn't even slow him down as he dragged her out into the night and across the dirt compound. Yet she continued to fight him.

  When he shoved her sprawling onto the floor of his tent, she stopped fighting. Chelle began to retreat inside herself, trying to shield her mind from what was happening to her body. She couldn't fight anymore. Even her skill in the deadly art of chackrin wouldn't help because she hadn't the strength to use it. Anyway, the more she fought, the more he would hurt her, and he always hurt her in the end.

  Stagg's big hand curled around her slender neck, and he tore at her coarse muslin dress. Chelle lay motionless, staring vacantly at the dark ceiling of the tent. There was nothing she could do to stop him from raping her. Her only defense was to pretend it was not really happening, and soon it would be over.

  But it annoyed him that she took his abuse so calmly. He
grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her limp body. When she still didn't fight him, he slapped her face and let her fall to the floor. After a moment, he nudged her with his boot in a further attempt to provoke her. He wanted a fighting woman to conquer, not a lifeless doll.

  Stagg reached for a dagger in his belt, and a woman screamed in agony. Kaara's torment reached Chelle's mind even before she heard the sound. The gleam of the dagger and another scream from Kaara jolted Chelle from her stupor. She knew he would kill her if she didn't fight. He might kill her anyway. No matter what she said, she wanted to live far more than she wanted to die. If she had to die, she would die fighting.

  She fought with all her strength and used the skills in chackrin that Hankura had taught her. She caught the Tregan off balance a couple times, but he always recovered too quickly for her to escape. He knew chackrin as well.

  Her attempts to best Stagg amused him. In time he tossed the dagger aside to toy with her in other ways until he tired of the game. As Chelle cried and struggled against him, she prayed he would forget the dagger in his blind lust, and she prayed for Kaara's torment to end. Finally, he shoved her down on his pallet, choking her with one hand as he spread her kicking legs. Chelle cried in pain as he thrust hard into her dehydrated center. Stagg laughed and continued, thrusting deep inside her.

  Most of the time, Chelle could blot out the pain of Stagg's driving, crushing body. She could almost forget the humiliation of his vile invasion, but she couldn't ignore Kaara's screams or the sense of terror that Chelle felt from her with each one. The screams finally stopped when Stag withdrew from her and cast her aside.

  Chelle watched him warily as he picked up his discarded clothing and put it on. Deciding he must be finished with her, she crept across the floor on her hands and knees, groping for her dress. She gasped softly as her hand rested upon the fallen dagger.