Morgan's Choice (34 page)

He shouldered the pack while she carried the
map tablet. They set off, away from the river. Leaf litter lay deep
and spongy beneath their feet. Ravindra’s boots, no longer white,
sank into the spongy ground, while Morgan’s soft footfalls were
barely audible. Gloomy and oppressive, a world where everything
looked the same. After the morning chorus the silence was
remarkable; some chirps and rustles and squeaks up in the branches
of the trees, but down here, nothing. Occasionally, bright red
fungus and greenish-black mold gleaming on fallen branches relieved
the monotony and once a huge insect with four fragile wings droned
past his ear. The scent of earth and growing things filled the
air.

They zigged and zagged between the trees,
checking frequently to ensure they were headed in the right
direction.

“It’s an amazing place,” she said. “So many
different types of trees.” They skirted around a huge trunk, its
soaring column supported by arched roots as thick as a man’s arm.
She yelled in fright as half a dozen flowers on the tree trunk took
flight as they passed.

Overheard, a whistling cry was returned from
further away. He noticed a flash of crimson. There certainly seemed
to be a lot of insects. They flew around his face, settled on any
bare skin. Morgan seemed worse off in that respect. She slapped
several times to kill them.

“They sting,” she said. “Not you?”

“No.”

“Huh. An advantage of thicker skin. Lucky
you.”

Sound seemed dead here, as though it was
absorbed into the undergrowth. Light, too. He turned on the lantern
just for effect and found luminous plants and strange growths, red
and yellow and sickly green, iridescent in the beam, but even the
lantern couldn’t penetrate far into the forest. He switched the
light off. “Can you see far in this?”

“No. It’s too dense. You look past one tree
and there’s another tree. And another. And all this stuff hanging
down. Weird.” She wrinkled her nose.

They stopped for a break when they’d walked
for two hours. She leaned her back against a tree and drank water
from the bottle.

He took a few steps into the forest. A man
could get lost here in moments; it was all the same, in each
direction. Troopers were expected to fight in this. Then again,
they would have had modern camouflage suits fitted with
conditioning. His ill-fitting uniform was starting to rub as well
as smell. Sweat dripped from his forehead and collected under his
arms. The humid heat sapped his energy. The sooner they were out of
here, the better. Morgan wouldn’t be disagreeing with him. Her hair
hung lank around her shoulders.

His heart leapt when she shrieked and jumped
to her feet.

“Errk. Something slithered over my hand,” she
said, her face screwed up in distaste.

He reached out a hand but she stepped
back, wiping her hand on her filthy pants. He almost heard the
unsaid words. ‘Don’t touch me’.
Don’t do this to me,
Morgan
. He kept his tone
normal. “Did it bite you?”

“No. Just…ugh.”

He looked but whatever it was had
disappeared.

They pushed on. Rain started falling,
dripping off the leaves and branches, soaking the ground, soaking
them.

Water trickled down his chest and his boots
began to squelch. His sodden shirt stuck to his skin. Her clothes
were the same. She noticed his stare and lifted her lip in a parody
of a smile, blowing a drop of water off her nose. Soaked to the
skin, bedraggled, stuck in a jungle. All because of him.

“Do you regret it?”

“What?” She pulled her boot out of the mud,
took another step.

“Rescuing me.”

She mashed her lips, thinking how to answer.
His heart sank. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“
I could have been dry, comfortable and
Queen of the Orionar. Oh, what fun. No, Admiral, I don’t regret it.
No. Not for a moment.”

He saw her lip quirk in a sad little
half-smile. What did that mean?

She shrugged. “Yes, conditions here are bad.
But it’s as bad for you as it is for me. Maybe it’s something I’ll
be able to brag about in a bar sometime.”

Would any of the women he’d bothered with
over the years have done what she did? Take such risks? Certainly
not his wife. Toward the end they were barely civil to each
other.
I love
you
. Sometime he’d get
the courage to tell her. “My given name is Ashkar.”

“I know.”

Of course she did. “Use it. Can’t we at least
stay friends?”

“Sure.”

He ground his teeth. Shields up, full defense
mode. If she imagined he would accept that and let it go she didn’t
know him very well.

When the gloom under the trees began to
deepen he called a halt. The rain had stopped but the ground was
wet and the sounds of dripping water surrounded them. Despite the
rain, the air remained warm and sticky. No chance of drying
anything. He set up the shelter and they crawled inside to eat a
ration bar by lantern light. He chewed and swallowed. The bar might
be nutritionally balanced but it had the consistency of cardboard.
His respect for the troopers was growing by the minute.

“How far have we come?” he asked.

She checked on the map tablet. “Thirty-five
klicks. Only sixty-two to go. Ashkar.”

Ashkar. He liked that.

She put the tablet away and grinned, one of
those small, lopsided, thoughtful grins. “You know what I’m looking
forward to most? Clean clothes. Especially panties. I reckon if I
took these off, they’d run away on their own.”

Morgan naked. He felt the heat in his
groin. Perhaps not quite the thing to think about just now. “Yes.
Clothes that fit, warm water, warm food.”
You in my bed
.

He had to know. “Morgan, what happened back
there? At Riverport? You were happy enough to kiss me in the cave.
You’ve put up a barrier. Why?”

She lay down. “We’ve got a long way to go,
Admiral. Better try to get some sleep.”

No, not good enough. Did she think if she
ignored him he’d go away? “Talk to me.”

She sighed and turned those maddening,
inscrutable silver eyes on him. “You’re a
Darya
. I’m an alien. It was fun but there’s no future
in it, so let’s not start.”

She rolled over, her back to him. He lay down
on his back and switched off the lantern. She might as well be
wearing armor plating. This was going to be a difficult
campaign.

Sleep was a long time coming. Wet, clammy
and uncomfortable, he listened to the furtive scurries, screeches
and howls of the jungle in the night. He dozed and woke, dozed and
woke and knew that Morgan did the same.

Daylight arrived, a brightening of the gloom.
Damp and clammy they slid out of the shelter to a rousing welcome
from the dawn chorus. Steam rose with the sun.

Morgan sloshed the water bottles. “We’re
running low. Hard to believe with all this water lying about.”

“
Better ration, then. A couple of mouthfuls
each hour.”

They trudged on, calling a halt every two
hours. Nothing changed. The endless trees spread around them, more
trunks, more vines fighting for the light. They might have been
anywhere, walking in circles. Without the map tablet, they could
have been.

“About half way now,” she said after her
latest periodic check of the tablet.

A cacophony of sound overhead brought them
both up short. Rustles and chitters, groans and howls

“What the fuck is that?” She peered up.

The foliage shuddered and shook. A troop of
animals in a hurry, swinging from branch to branch. One flung
itself through the air to move from one tree to the next. Six
limbs, pointed head, long hair. Grabbing the trunk of its target
with all paws, it scrambled up into the canopy with its
relatives.

“They seem harmless enough.”

“Could be. But that probably isn’t.” There
was an edge to her voice. She’d stiffened, staring into the forest
just beyond the nearest tree.

Red, multi-faceted eyes glowed in a
flattened head. A tongue flicked in and out between jaws filled
with teeth like needles. The thing took a step forward on long,
jointed legs. The breath caught in his throat.

Ravindra pulled out his gun and fired a
blast between the beast’s eyes. It reared back on its hind legs and
howled.
Mala
. The thing
must be three meters long. It dropped back down to the ground and
advanced another step, tongue flickering, head lowered with intent.
The energy bolt seemed to have annoyed it more than anything.
Primal fear clawed at his brain, urged him to run, twitched at his
muscles. No. Mistake.

“Back up, Morgan. Slowly.” Don’t panic, don’t
run. He remembered the words from the Shuba hunter of his youth.
Think of ice. Keep cool. The thing must have a weakness. He pulled
her around so she was behind him, took another step back and tried
another shot.

The weapon wheezed.

“Uh-oh,” Morgan said.

Out of power. He had nearly drained the gun
in the temple and the last few shots at Riverport finished it off.
His heart hammered. Could the creature climb?

“Try the light.”

He took out the lantern and focused the
beam on the beast’s eye. It stopped, jerked its head, growled its
discomfort. How to get out of this? Climbing wouldn’t help; they
wouldn’t get high enough to escape something as tall as that. He
would need another weapon or they would have to escape. The beast
swayed from foot to foot, discomfited but not enough to back off.
He rummaged in his mind. What did they have? Not much. A useless
weapon, an ancient knife, a lantern, a shelter…

“The shelter. Get the shelter out of the kit,
Morgan. Quickly.”

She rustled in the pack while he kept the
beam focused on the creature’s eyes. “I hope you know what you’re
doing.”

No, of course he didn’t. He handed her the
lantern. “Keep it steady.”

He stepped forward, toward the beast, the
shelter pack in front of him. “When I tell you, take the light away
from its eyes.”

“Ashkar… be careful.”

The note of anxiety in her voice buoyed
him.

“Now.”

The light flicked away. The beast scuttled
forward, its body undulating between its legs. He set the shelter
kit to inflate and dropped it, screaming as loud as he could. The
shelter jerked and began to rise slowly from the ground, hissing as
it expanded. The creature stopped, mouth closed, one foot raised.
He could almost see the consternation in its eyes.

“Give me the light and help me carry this
forward.”

Shining the light with one hand, he hefted
the still-expanding shelter with the other while Morgan lifted the
opposite side.

The beast backed away, its head weaving
from side to side. Another step.
Go on, beast, take off
. Ravindra stepped forward.

That did it. It turned and shambled off,
crashing through the jungle.

He set the shelter to deflate and willed his
pulse to settle. Not the sort of challenge he was used to.

“Well done, Admiral. I salute you.” She
placed her fist on her chest and bowed her head.

He stepped in front of her and put his hands
on her arms. “No kiss this time? I’d prefer a kiss.” He angled his
head and leaned over her, toward her slightly parted lips.

“Turn around,” a voice behind him said.
“Slowly.”

Chapter
Forty-One

Ravindra tensed. If these were Asbarthi’s
people they would be taken prisoner, the last thing he wanted. He
had to keep calm, think. He turned around and stared at the blunt
muzzle of a military blastech, held in the massive hands of a fleet
trooper wearing a regulation camouflage suit, the helmet in place.
His companion had his blastech trained on Morgan. Fleet troopers.
Who would they be loyal to?

“Raise your hands.”

He did as he was told. So did Morgan. The
trooper put his weapon down and frisked him, patting down his
pockets. He found the knife, glanced at the ornate handle and
tucked it into his belt.

Now Morgan. He watched with growing fury as
the fellow fumbled her. “Watch your manners,” he snapped.

The trooper stepped back and looked him up
and down. “What are you doing out here? Not loyal to the Orionar
King, then?”

The way he’d said that… hope flickered. “No.
Are you?”

The man chuckled. “What about her?” He jerked
his head at Morgan.

“You know, she’s got strange, silver eyes,”
the other one said. “Just like that Orionar Queen. I reckon that’s
stain on her skin, too. It’s wearing off around her ears and
hairline.” She leant forward. “Ain’t that right?”

Morgan shifted her feet. “What if it is? I’m
not loyal to the Orionar King, either. Or to this revolution.”

The two exchanged a glance. Damn it. What
would they do? Ransom her, take her to the base? He wished he could
see their faces but the helmets were made of camouflage material,
too.

“So she’s the Orionar Queen.” The man looked
at him. “Who’re you?”

“Admiral Ravindra.”

They both laughed. “Yes, and I’m the Union’s
President. He’s dead. Try again.”

“I’m not dead. She rescued me before the man
who gave me this,” he angled his head to indicate the scar, “could
finish the job.”

The two exchanged another glance. This was
looking increasingly hopeful. They were dithering. They knew an
officer when they saw one, that much was clear. He’d guess they
didn’t like the new regime, either. “Take us to your
commander.”

“
Srimana
.” The man blurted the honorific, a conditioned
response. With a grunt of annoyance he activated his
sanvad
. “Two
new. In.”