Taxx falls onto his knees next to a filthy cot. “Are you all right? Love, are you hurt? I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re going to be all right. I promise it.”
“You came for me. For us. You came. Taxx.” The human is curled up on the bed, weak, but her eyes glow in the light. “I love you. My love.” She reaches up to touch his face, wonder in her eyes. She’s like a skeleton: thin, undernourished.
The two babies huddled near her can’t be more than a few solar cycles old—they’re terrified; you can see it in their faces, and the way their horns flatten on their heads. When they see Taxx, they smile and scream, launching themselves at him, clinging to him, scrabbling with hands and feet to get close.
The human tries to stand, but can’t—I wince, seeing she’s injured. There’s blood, crusted, old. I don’t want to know what they’ve done to her. At least the young seem unharmed, if terrified.
“We need to go,” I snap, as an alarm pierces the air, splitting our eardrums, and lights flash in the near distance.
Taxx pushes the children towards Benn. “Go with him, sons. He’ll take care of you. He’ll keep you safe.”
Benn grabs them up. “Cover me,” he growls, and I lift my weapon. “Taxx, grab your mate.”
We’re nearly at the ground craft when I see them: Three Ocretions, armed with shock sticks and stunners, racing toward us.
“Faster,” I shout, and Benn dashes up the steps with the two young Zandians. There’s no time to look behind me, but I glance anyway. “Taxx, hurry with Mikala!” I shout. “We have fifteen seconds.”
As I speak, Mikala stumbles; in her weakened condition, with her leg mangled, she simply can’t move properly.
“Taxx!” She screams, looking at him, just him, the whole time. Her whole body radiating love, concern. “Taxx!”
There’s no time—I can see it, we can all see it.
“Take her,” Taxx shouts, his voice rough. “Take care of her for me, Gorde. Tell your mate I’m sorry.” He raises his weapon and stands between Mikala and the approaching Ocretions.
“Taxx, no!” Mikala’s voice is impassioned.
When I scoop her up in my arms, she weighs nothing. A feather.
I race to the craft, panting, and she twists in my arms. “Let me down!” she orders me.
“You can’t help him,” I snap. “Think of your children.”
“I am thinking of them!” Her voice is fierce. “To the left. Look.”
It’s then that I see it: Another Ocretion darts out from behind a vast, broken down shell of a digger. He’s almost at the door of our transport craft when the human in my arms does some kind of twist and is on her feet, waving her arms, getting his attention. “Over here!” she wails, hopping on her one good foot. “It’s me you want.”
He turns and fires at her, leaving enough time for Benn to shoot him in the head, and when he slides down into the blackness of the ground, she shudders and sways, too, gasping.
I hoist her up to Benn, and look back for Taxx. We can use a longer range weapon and snipe the Ocretions, swing by and grab him as we head back to our main craft.
But his body lies motionless on the ground, and I feel it: He’s gone. His mate knows it too, and she collapses into sobs, incoherent, inconsolable, as we fly back to the ship.
Benn
This trip is eerily similar to the last. This time, though, it’s Taxx’s two sons in the med pod. Having refused to lie down, wailing for their mother, they are now sitting up with the lid open, holding hands and glancing around them.
I’m no expert, but I figure the crystal energy will help, regardless of their position. At least they’re not screaming.
We also have a human. Their mother, Mikala, is weak and ill, and despite the basic medical help we provided, she clearly needs more advanced medical attention. The blast she took from the Ocretion weakened her, and we need to get her back to Dr. Daneth as quickly as possible.
We’ve given her food and liquids, and used the best med supplies we have on hand, but once she saw that her young were safe, she sank down onto the sleepdisk, rocking and moaning to herself. Crooning the name of her dead mate. Taxx. Taxx.
As the adrenaline starts to fade, I get jittery with aftershocks and take several calming breaths. “Why can’t she settle down?” I gesture at Mikala.
Gorde grunts. “She’s overwhelmed. Human emotions.”
“Should we give her a sedative?”