Page 37 of Alien Rescue

He stopped before a building that had shops at street level and apartments on the upper levels. It wasn’t a seedy area of the city. At a guess, she’d say it straddled the really poor area and the lower middle class. Not the kind of place she thought Morgan would frequent.

“If you tell him about me, I will kill him,” Zanr said. There was a merciless quality in his voice she’d never heard before. There was no doubt in her mind he’d do what he threatened.

“You don’t really mean that?” A small mean part of her wished he’d rough up Morgan a little. But she couldn’t let him kill Morgan. Being an asshole wasn’t a criminal offense.

“I do. He could be working with the humans who want to detonate bombs.”

She never liked Morgan, but she didn’t think he’d kill people. His hatred seemed reserved for her. He could almost be a second brother.

“Fine. What do you suggest I say when he asks where I’ve been?”

“Tell him the truth. You were taken to our stronghold, but you escaped. Tell him nothing more.”

He pulled her tight against him. “Betray me and you will be punished,” he said in such a sinister voice, goose bumps broke out over her body.

“Fine,” she snarled.

They walked into the bar and split up. Rose went to the scarred wooden bar and ordered a drink. She stared down at the rough surface beneath her elbows. This place had to be either centuries old or the owner had found the wooden counter somewhere. This last century, wood had become scarce and very expensive. After an hour sitting on the bar stool, her back was aching and her head felt funny from the sips she forced herself to take from the drink served in a glass that didn’t sparkle with cleanliness. Although several of the men looked her over, they always changed their minds and turned away from her. Rose didn’t turn around, but she had no doubt it was Zanr’s doing.

Hours later Morgan still hadn’t appeared. She wouldn’t put it past him to stay away and make her come back on purpose. The whole time she sat perched on the bar stool, Rose argued in her mind, going in circles. She wanted to help her family. Prevent the bomb from going off. But she also didn’t want to assist their so-called conquerors in any way. At what stage was she a collaborator?

When the tall man with the leather jacket paid for his drinks and walked to the door, she stood and left. Two men got up and followed her, and she had no doubt about their intentions. Outside she turned and sighed when she saw them right behind her. The way they looked at her made her skin crawl.

“This will not end well for you,” she warned.

“It will end very well—” His eyes widened and then he crumpled to the floor. His friend joined him half a second later.

Rose smirked down at their unconscious bodies. “Told you it wouldn’t go well for you,” she muttered and took Zanr’s hand and carefully stepped over their unconscious bodies.

“I am pleased by the confidence you show your warrior.”

“You do know that referring to yourself in the third person is creepy, right?”

“Nothing a Zyrgin warrior do is creepy.” They walked in silence for a while. “What is creepy?”

She burst out laughing, and she was still trying to explain it to him when they reached the building where he’d parked the shuttle. This time he picked her up and something shot out from his sleeve. Rose closed her eyes and clutched at him for dear life. The wind blew over them and she heard a whooshing sound. She opened one eye and moaned when she realized that they’d reached the top of the building and that he was hanging on with one hand and holding her with the other. She squeezed her eyes shut again, and the next moment she stood on the roof of the building.

She staggered to the shuttle, her knees shaking. “You’re an adrenaline junky, aren’t you?” she accused.

“Is that a good thing to be?”

“No.” She held up a hand. “Never mind.” Nothing she said would change his danger-loving habits. She tottered over to the shuttle and the door opened smoothly to allow her in. Rose sank down on the bunk in the shuttle. “I can’t believe he didn’t pitch. A whole day wasted.” She glanced around the small space. Where did he plan for them to sleep tonight?

“Pitch what?”

“It’s a human term—it means show up for a meeting.”

“If he does not show up soon, we will find him and we will find the weapons,” he said so calm she wanted to shake him.

“Are you hungry?” He went to the wall on the left side of the shuttle and grunted at it. A shelf appeared.

“Oh yes. I would kill for some tomato soup.”

He turned to face her, cocked his head. “What is toh-mah-doh soup?”

She ran her hands through her hair. “Not that again. Tomato soup—everyone knows it.” She spelled it for him.

He grunted at the wall and it pushed out two meals.

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