Dekkir (Galaxy Alien Warriors #1)(42)
“It’s quite simple. I’ve got a dropship waiting. I’m taking this little infected traitor back with me for experimentation . . . and then trial and execution.” He licked his lips. “Now. Let go of her. The two of you get your clothes on. I’m sure Earth Command will be happy as hell to see me take the war chief back as a captive.” He grinned.
I glared at him and then let her go. We quickly scrambled for our clothes, while he pointed the pistol straight at Grace to ensure my good behavior.
I growled with frustration under my breath but complied. I wouldn’t risk him wiggling his finger and sending my mate into dust with that . . . device. He would smile as he did it—of that I was certain. So I stood there, forced to tolerate it as he eyed her up, staring at every flex and curve of her as she pulled on her tunic and leggings.
He led us to the back of the bathing chamber, where a single open window dangled a silvery rope ladder down the outer wall. I wondered how we had missed his entrance and then ground my teeth in embarrassment. Oh.
“Climb. No messing around.”
I went first, testing the strange, thin, but terribly sturdy rope. I climbed along slowly, trying to keep within grabbing range of exhausted Grace should she slip. When we were most of the way down, Norcross looked down at me coldly and then leaped out the window. The retro-rockets on his boots hissed a few times, and he landed on the ground and trained his pistol back on Grace. “Move.”
“This is foolish, Norcross. Listen to me.” Grace was struggling to reason with him, her voice a little shaky but her tone and expression earnest. “You don’t have to do this. The Lyrans are preparing to offer their assistance in revitalizing Earth. That’s not an opportunity you want to pass up!”
He stood over her with his fists on his hips, laughing as I helped her the rest of the way down. “Wow, that’s funny. You actually believe that. You have an awful lot of faith in these aliens, Grace! But we all know it’s bullshit.
“Earth is dying! Our homes . . . our families . . . everything back home that we love is going to be gone in under a generation. It’s all gone to shit. Poverty and wars over tiny scraps of half-fertile land where everything mutates because of radon or chemical poisoning, people starving to death, standing up in cities so crowded there’s no lying down. Earth is a rotting corpse, and we’re still trying to suckle from her teat, and look what that shit is getting us! Sick, dying, and fighting each other over the last rotten drops! We have three choices: take over somewhere else, die out, or let the Lyrans help out. And guess what? I don’t plan to die!”
He marched us away from the wall, toward a little canyon dug by a rushing creek. The three moons rode high in the sky, casting blue, greenish, and golden light over the wavering grass, but it seemed none of their light could reach far into the cleft between those rock walls. I could see gleams of silver in the darkness of the canyon: a dropship.
Norcross started talking again as we entered the canyon of shadows. “Now here’s the deal. Grace pilots, you’ll be in the passenger seat, and I’ll be sitting behind Grace with my gun to her head. We’re headed back to Earth Command Base up on that moon, Grace girl, and you’re going to face the music.” He gestured with the gun, and we mutely descended into the dark of the canyon.
My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and narrowed as I saw Norcross stumble slightly on the path. He was at a greater disadvantage here. My muscles tensed as I gaged how closely he was following Grace with the pistol.
He stumbled again, and his aim wavered. I dove forward at once, knocking his hand away from her direction. The pistol went off with a hard thud and knocked a skull-sized chunk of rock from the canyon wall. Then I slammed into him with my full weight, and we both went over and started rolling down the steep path toward the creek bottom.
He fought the whole time, even after the pistol slid down the slope before him, squirming and kicking under me with the tenacity of one too proud to give in. Of all his traits, that one I could admire, though I wasn’t about to admit that to him. Instead, I wrestled back and forth with him as we slid farther down the slope, while Grace ran after us, trying to get past our tangled, angry, dust-smeared mass to grab the fallen, sliding pistol.
I grabbed him by the head and pinned him down briefly; she darted past, but he stuck out a leg and kicked hers out from under her. She went down with a yelp and then scrambled back up, only to have us slide into her and knock her over again. The rough canyon scree flew up into my face and ground against my shoulder and arm as I slid downward. Norcross kneed me in the stomach and then gasped when it hurt him more than me. Growling, I flipped him over and rode his face partway down the canyon.
Finally, we fetched up against the landing gear of the dropship with a hard clunk. Grace got up with a sigh, brushing herself off, while I pinned down Norcross with one hand and started punching him hard in the face.
“How dare you! How dare you threaten my mate! How dare you burst in on us when we’re enjoying ourselves, you perverse beast! How dare you look at her like that!” Slam, slam, slam . . . Each blow bounced his head off the stone and forced a little grunt of pain and surprise out of him, but I wasn’t satisfied. His gaze had oozed all over Grace like a slug when he had watched her dress. I wanted him dead. And doing it by punching his brains half out of his head first seemed like the best method possible. “Grace. Get the firearm!”