Subterranean

Sin'jari raised the dagger again, meaning to strike at Mo'amba's throat, but by now Ashley was upon him. She snapped a boot heel into the attacker's ribs, knocking him aside. As he stumbled to catch his balance, she positioned herself in front of Mo'amba. The old man had by now slumped to the floor. Blood flowed from between his fingers as he clutched his chest.

Sin'jari turned to her.

"Get the f**k away, you bastard!" she screamed.

He rubbed his bruised rib with one hand while toying with the blade with the other. His smile was all teeth and no warmth. He had the blade, she didn't.

She eyed the fallen staff that Mo'amba had dropped.

Sin'jari didn't give her a chance to formulate a plan. He lunged at her. But years of karate training and four older brothers had honed her reflexes. She twisted to the side, grabbing Sin'jari's wrist as his lunge missed her. Pivoting on her foot, she used her hip and Sin'jari's momentum to flip the bastard to the floor. The snap of cracking bone brought a smile to her lips. His knife skittered uselessly across the rock.

In two steps, she had the dagger in hand. Now let's see what the bastard thinks with the tables turned, she thought. Sin'jari had already scrabbled away, cradling his left arm. He backed from her to the other side of the chamber, obviously giving up the fight.

While keeping a wary eye on Sin'jari, she crossed to Mo'amba, who now lay sprawled on his back, his chest heaving in gurgling breaths. He seemed to be staring blindly at the ceiling. In shock.

He needed immediate help. But how?

She jumped as Sin'jari suddenly stood up. She pointed the knife at him, but he didn't approach. He slinked, instead, toward the wormhole. With a final sneer at her, he darted into the wormhole and disappeared.

Just as he vanished, she heard the sound of many feet approaching down the tunnel. Thank god help was coming.

She turned just as the first of the warriors burst into the chamber, spears pointing forward. A keening wail arose from them as they spotted the bloody figure of Mo'amba sprawled across the floor. Almost in unison, the angry and accusing eyes of the hunters turned on her.

She looked down at the bloody dagger still in her hand. Damn.

"Calm down," Ben said as he grabbed Nob'cobi's waving hands. He had been trying to make sense of Nob'cobi's frantic gestures and guttural words but was making no headway. His efforts had only succeeded in frustrating both of them.

Ben glanced toward Sandy. She had backed away into a far corner of Blakely's office, cringing. No help there.

He released Nob'cobi's hands. If only Harry would come… he knew their language.

Suddenly Nob'cobi reached over and touched Ben's forehead with a single finger, then touched his own. Ben stared at him blankly. The tiny hunter repeated the gesture, irritation starting to crinkle his eyes.

In another moment, Ben understood. Nob'cobi wanted him to communicate with his heri'huti skills. The hunter couldn't initiate the contact himself since he wasn't of the proper blood, but Ben could. Like back in the wormhole.

Ben nodded his understanding and gestured for Nob'cobi to sit on the couch. Nob'cobi eyed the leather sofa suspiciously and instead just sat cross-legged on the floor. Ben shrugged and did the same, facing the mimi'swee hunter.

Closing his eyes, Ben willed his breathing to slow, striving to calm his agitated mind. He pictured relaxing on the back porch of his father's sheep station with a warm beer and a lazy day ahead.

Suddenly Sandy burst out, "What are you doing?"

Frowning, Ben held up a hand but kept his eyes closed. "It's okay, Sandy. I need you to be quiet for a minute."

"But-"

"Shhh. Just relax." His words, dreamy, were directed at both her and himself. Relax.

He could hear her grumble under her breath, but he ignored her and sipped his tepid Foster's from a dusty bottle while tipping back his chair in the corner of the porch. He thought of Nob'cobi, picturing the little fellow's flat-nosed face and spindly neck. Suddenly, the hunter appeared next to Ben, seated on another chair.

Nob'cobi stared slack-jawed around him. He stood up and leaned on the porch railing, gawking up at the wide sky, not a cloud from horizon to horizon. He seemed to cower a bit, then turned his back on the view to face Ben. "It's… it's so big." He shuddered.

Ben felt a little sorry thrusting the poor man into such a foreign landscape, but Mo'amba had done the same with him. Besides, he missed the ranch. "Don't worry, Nob'cobi. It's not the size that counts."

"What?"

"Never mind. Bad joke." Ben took another swig of his beer. Hell if it didn't taste bloody real. "Now, what were you trying to tell me?"

Nob'cobi took a nervous swallow, one eye darting behind him. "I heard a strange noise in the cave. Like nothing I had heard before."

"What did it sound like?"

Nob'cobi scrunched up his face and repeated the sound he heard. It sounded like a tune or something. And it sounded familiar.

"Do that again." Ben concentrated as he listened, eyes closed. Where had he heard that? His eyes sprang open, and he sat up straight. Christ, it's that damned jingle from Jason's Nintendo game! He'd heard the infuriating thing a thousand times during the trek here.

"Where did you hear that?" Ben blurted.

"I went to look. To see what was making that sound. But I almost ran into that crak'an that's been hounding us. The smart one. He was following the sound too."

"Blast!" Ben pushed out of the dream, scattering it into colored shreds, until he was facing Nob'cobi again in Blakely's office. He shoved to his feet. Nob'cobi followed.

"Sandy, stay here," Ben said, as he slammed another clip in his gun. "Lock the door. If we come knocking, open the door in a hurry."

She nodded and followed him down the hall. "What's going on?"

"I don't have time to explain." He pushed through the door to the reception area. "Lock it and be quiet."

He heard the door slam behind him and a deadbolt click. He turned to Nob'cobi. "Now show me where that sound was coming from."

The hunter stared at him blankly. Hell, this was not the time for another communication gap. Ben imitated the tune and pretended to look around, then shrugged.

Nob'cobi nodded and pointed out the door, taking the lead.

Ben clenched his pistol in a white-knuckled grip and followed. If he was too late? He shook his head. He wouldn't be.

He followed Nob'cobi back outside. Just as they turned the corner, Harry suddenly appeared before them. Startled, Ben came within a hair of plugging the man with a bullet.

"You made it," Harry said, winded and sweating through his tattered fatigues. "Let's get the statue and get out of here. The other hunters are still leading that pod of crak'an on a wild goose chase, but they can't keep it up much longer. We need to-"