Chapter 7
SEVEN
Taron
Fat chance, she’d replied under her breath.
It took all his will not to laugh out loud. Suddenly, the prospect of strolling into a raiders’ camp didn’t seem too bad after all.
“Also, I must take out the chip in my head that makes me speak English. So you won’t understand anything I say.”
She gave him a wry look. “That might not be such a bad thing.”
“They’ll want payment for allowing us to stay and use their communicator. I have the signal detection device I used to get us here. I hadn’t wanted to give it up yet. We may need it, but…”
Amelia’s eyes brightened. “I might have something.” She dug her hand deep in her flight suit’s pocket and pulled out a glittering necklace with a fat pink stone. “Would this work?”
He stared down at the cirrulite stone in its gleaming nitrul setting. The Virilian who had been matched with Kimberly had chosen a rare stone with a rarer metal to set it in. This was valuable in many parts of the quadrant. “It would. You don’t mind parting with it?”
She shrugged. “Kimberly’s not here to object. If it helps, take it.”
He took it, sliding it into the bag he wore over his shoulder, then took her hand.
He stood up and so did she. He wasn’t remotely sure that this would work.
It would depend on the group occupying this camp.
They would be in good shape if this camp adhered to the general raiders code.
If they didn’t, they could rip Amelia out of his arms and ship her off to a brothel.
They would have to kill him first. He made a face as the thought came through his mind. He told himself to get a grip. He liked her. He didn’t like her enough to die for her. Did he?
He hated to think how much depended on Amelia’s behavior.
Much of this was out of his hands. But here was one instance where being an ex-Sifter gave him an advantage.
He knew how to talk to these people. He knew how they thought and operated.
Although he hated to slip back into that role, both of their lives depended on it.
He kept her hand tightly clasped in his. “Remember, act subservient. Don’t make eye contact with anyone and stay close to me. Never, ever leave my side.”
She glanced up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “I’m scared.”
“Yeah. So am I.” For the first time, he wondered if all the trouble he went to to keep her alive would be for nothing. He did not hide their approach. He could feel their eyes on him from where they stood on the towers in their tree platforms.
He saw the glint of light on night-vision goggles. A sudden hush fell over the camp. Their presence had been detected. He kept the knife prominently displayed on his belt and held the barb on his tail high to leave no question of what his species was. Virilians were not a species to tangle with.
A large, two-legged individual stepped from the stone building.
He was shorter than Taron, but much stockier, with a round midsection.
He was bared to the waist and covered with thick brown fur.
His arms were as wide as tree trunks and his legs, well, this male did not get knocked over easily.
He had a snout-like nose and long tusks that extended up from a heavy, jutting bottom jaw.
Taron inwardly sighed in relief. This was a member of the Inhoomeet species.
Despite their rough, brutal appearance, they were actually reasonable and their society was advanced and intelligent.
Usually, they spoke a number of tongues, including the universal languages.
Most importantly, they typically adhered to a code of conduct.
If this individual was in charge—and it looked like he was—Taron and Amelia might actually make it out of here.
He removed the chip from his head as they approached the Inhoomeet.
Up close, Taron could see the metal medallion bearing the insignia of a raider leader on the male’s chest. No one else came out to greet him and Amelia.
That was the leader’s job. One signal from this individual, and they would be shot dead. Instantly.
Taron smiled, forcing himself to look more relaxed than he felt. He knew so much of survival in these circumstances was all about appearances.
“Greetings, stranger,” said the Inhoomeet. “What business have you here?”
Taron gave him a respectful nod. “None whatsoever,” he replied.
“My vessel had a fuel cell malfunction and ran aground a day’s walk from here.
I request lodging for myself and my female.
Food, and access to your communication system, to call for help.
” It was a big ask, but raider leaders liked to know exactly what a person was about.
Any indication of falsehood or of shady intentions was met with a quick death. Direct was best with these types.
The Inhoomeet folded his massive arms. “Why would we give any of these things to a stranger? You are an intruder here. Untrusted. Unknown.”
“I can pay,” he said bluntly. “And after I depart, I shall never recall having seen you. I shall never recall having been here. The journey is forgotten.” He gently swiped his fingers over his forehead, then flicked them, as though wiping a memory away.
These were secret actions and words only a raider would know.
A mantra, and a code, stating their kinship, and also the oath to never betray another raider, no matter the sect they belonged to.
Taron felt sick saying the words. He left that life behind long ago and paid a price that would haunt him forever. He held his breath, waiting for the leader to either accept them or kill them. It could go either way.
The Inhoomeet cocked his enormous head. “What do you offer me?”
Taron released his breath. It was a conditional acceptance, then. He pulled the necklace Amelia had given him from his bag and handed it to the raid leader. “I have this.”
The Inhoomeet raised his heavy brows. He withdrew a small, round eyepiece from one of the many pouches on his belt and wedged it into his deep eye socket.
The necklace looked fragile in his enormous hand, but he held and examined it with the care of an experienced assessor of unique items. “Genuine cirrulite and nitrul,” he grunted with satisfaction. “Such rare things.”
He held up a hand and made a circle in the air. Taron released the rest of his tension. That was the sign for the waiting raiders to stand down. Their payment was accepted. Voices started up. Sounds and rustling came from the trees and buildings as raiders came out to investigate their visitors.
The necklace disappeared into the Inhoomeet’s pocket.
“You may stay, stranger.” He raised his brow, and the eyepiece fell into his hand.
“I am Nitto, leader of this pack, originating from the Yerkin system. You shall have lodging, food, and one long-range communication, as requested. But not until after dawn. It is only then that the star disguises the origin of our transmissions, keeping this location secret.”
Taron nodded. He was wise enough to accept the leader’s terms. “Thank you for your generosity,” he said. “I accept with gratitude.”
Nitto turned his assessing gaze to Amelia. “This is your property? Are you willing to share her?”
Taron thanked the stars that Amelia couldn’t understand that part. He put a proprietary arm around her waist and tucked her tight against him. “I have given payment. This one belongs to me alone. No negotiation.”
“Such a shame,” said Nitto. “My raiders will not like your selfishness.”
“We are selfish by nature,” replied Taron. “And Sifters keep what they find.”
“Ah.” Nitto smiled, revealing large, blunted teeth. He pointed to the runic tattoos that ran from Taron’s wrist to his elbow. “I suspected that was your pack.”
Taron nodded, keeping his revulsion from showing on his face. “We are in disarray, since our leader was killed.” Sharing his brotherly connection to the deceased Sifter leader would only complicate matters.
Nitto gave him a long, slow survey. “If you are looking for a new pack, there is room for a strong Virilian within our ranks. You must prove yourself, of course.”
Taron lowered his head respectfully, but sweat broke on his palms at the idea of joining another of these brutal bands of raiders.
“I will keep your invitation. I am Mullick.” It was one of many false names he’d used as a Sifter, to hide his true identity.
It slid off his tongue with sickening ease.
So easily, he blended in with these cutthroats.
He felt Amelia’s heart pounding hard where she pressed to his side.
She couldn’t understand anything that had just transpired, and that must be driving her mad.
He rubbed his thumb over her ribs, ever so slightly, trying to communicate reassurance to her.
It worked. She relaxed a bit and snuggled closer.
This, he thought, was not something a raider would do.
Comforting a female was not an unnatural impulse to a normal being.
Soothing her was the reassurance he needed to remember that his Sifter past was behind him.
Nitto nodded. “No longer a stranger then.” He snapped big fingers and two raiders came running. “Give Mullick and his female an empty room and see to their needs. They have paid us well. They will be our guests tonight.”
Because it was expected of him by their hosts, he grunted at Amelia and jerked her along.
She didn’t cast him any dirty looks, but glanced up at him with a wary expression, as if wondering what was wrong with him.
It was a brute move, although he made sure he didn’t hurt her.
He had to display normal raider behavior here.
Showing Amelia consideration would have been suspicious.