Fugitive (42 page)

   Klog beeped once and hovered briefly over the shal lows before moving out over deeper water.

   "You're out too far," Manx cautioned. "You might not be able to—"

   Klog launched his skewer which darted through the water without even making a splash.

   "—see any fish," Manx finished as Klog pulled his spear from the lake.

   Klog glided back over to Manx, held out the skewer, and beeped twice.

   "Four fish with one throw!" Zef chortled. "Never did that well, did you, Manx?"

   Manx scowled at Zef and then at Klog. "You've been holding out on me," he said darkly. "Mind telling me why, when you always seem to know what everyone wants, whether they ask for it or not, you've never caught any fish before?"

   Klog responded with a buzz.

   "Ah, Klog," said Zef, who had already eaten the fish Manx had speared, "over here. Yes, that's it. Well done," he said as Klog slid all four fish off the skewer and into Zef's open mouth. Crunching happily, Zef did a barrel roll in the water, displaying his well-rounded midsection as Klog floated off toward the house. "Come back and fish often!" Zef called after him. "At least twice a day."

   Klog beeped once but didn't stop.

   "He's a great fisherman," Zef observed, "but not much of a talker."

   "You'll get fat with him feeding you," Manx warned.

   "Not a problem," Zef said cheerfully. "I won't live forever and, the way I see it, I might as well die happy." Looking up at Manx, he said, "You've been a good friend to me, Manx. I've been happier here than I've ever been, thanks to you and Drusilla. Now it's your turn to go and find your own happiness."

   Manx grinned and took Drusilla's hand. "Thank you, Zef," he said. "We'll do that."

   "And you be sure to have lots of children," Zef went on. "Maybe come back and see me sometime. I know it's not likely, but you never know, do you?"

   "No, you don't," Manx agreed. "I never thought things would turn out this way for me either. It must have been fate or something."

   "Sure it was," said Zef, nodding in mock agreement, "that and your big, fancy weasel."

   Manx burst out laughing. "I'm gonna miss you, Zef."

   "Not half as much as I'll miss you," Zef said. "But go on, get out of here. You've got a long trip ahead of you."

   They were interrupted just then by movement in the underbrush on the far side of the lake. Staring wide eyed, they watched as a dried-out, nearly exhausted eltran crawled out of the jungle.

   "Zef!" the eltran gasped as he reached the shore. "Thank God I've found you!"

   "Tu'gret!" Zef shouted in greeting. "What the hell happened?"

   "Got run out of the lake," the tired eltran said as he sank blissfully into the water.

   "I can see that for myself!" Zef exclaimed. "What I want to know is why?"

   Tu'gret snorted and shook his head. "Opened my big mouth once too often," he replied. "I'm just glad I got to you before they did, or you'd be running me off too."

   "I wouldn't run you off if you were—well—" Zef paused for a moment's reflection before adding, "I wouldn't run you off for any reason at all, come to think of it."

   "I hope you mean that," Tu'gret said, rolling over onto his back. Sighing happily, he said, "This is a damn fine lake you've got here."

   "Ha! Don't I know it," Zef agreed. "A helluva lot better than the old one." Zef looked at his old friend curiously. "Well, let's hear it," he said gruffly. "Don't tell me you got kicked out for the same reason I was!"

   "Not exactly," Tu'gret replied. "You remember Lorilei?"

   "Hmph!" Zef snorted. "How could I forget her? She's the one who got pissed because I couldn't fuck her."

   "Yeah, well, at least you weren't stupid enough to turn

her down," Tu'gret said ruefully. "She told everyone I only liked men after that."

   "But I thought there was no such thing as a homo sexual eltran," Drusilla put in.

   "There isn't," Tu'gret said shortly, "but don't ever tell a female eltran—especially one like Lorilei—that she makes you wish there were and that you were one of them."

   Drusilla clapped her hand over her mouth trying not to laugh, but she couldn't stop her giggles. Manx turned away, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

   "It's not funny!" Tu'gret said sharply.

   "Oh, yes it is," said Zef. "But who cares? C'mere, buddy! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Patting Tu'gret on the head with a ragged fin, he added, "You'll love this lake! You can swim all day, there are no women to please, you can harass the tour ists, and best of all, Klog will catch fish for you! It's a fuckin' eltran paradise!"

   "Well, it looks like you're in good shape now," Manx said, regaining his composure. "Thanks, Zef—for every thing. Without you, I might never have had the nerve to come out of hiding and talk to Drusilla."

   "And I wouldn't have found the man I'd been waiting for all my life," Drusilla said warmly.

   "That's what friends are for," Zef said gruffly. "And thanks to you, I've got everything I need to live out my days in style—and with Tu'gret here, I won't be lonely. You two go on and have yourselves a good life together."

   "We will," Manx promised.

***

And they did.

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank Wickedly Romantic blog commenter Justine for suggesting the name Drusilla.

   I'd also like to thank my son, Mike, for coming up with the name Zefa'gu and for suggesting Kang, Kor, and Kolath of Star Trek for the names of Cat and Jack's babies.

   The ladies who follow my blog (cherylbrookserotic. blogspot.com) were also instrumental in the writing of this book, providing me with tons of support and encouragement as well as suggesting the names for the Baradan women and numerous synonyms for "weasel." It was a tough job, but
somebody
had to do it…

About the Author

Cheryl Brooks has been a critical care nurse since 1977, graduating from the Kentucky Baptist Hospital School of Nursing in 1976, and earning a BSN from Indiana University in 1986. Cheryl is an avid reader of romance novels and has been a fan of science fiction ever since watching that first episode of
Star Trek
. Always in need of a creative outlet, she has written numerous novels, with
The Cat Star Chronicles: Fugitive being her fifth published work. She lives o
n a farm near Bloomfield, Indiana, with her husband, two sons, four horses, and six cats. You can visit her website at:
http://cherylbrooksonline.com/
, or email her at:
[email protected]
.