Page 4 of The Ozar Triad

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Riley

Riley held onto consciousness by a thread. It was only sheer stubbornness that kept her on her feet. That and the knowledge that if she showed any weakness at all, she would be at the mercy of the owners of the many pairs of strange eyes that openly darted her way.

If those reptile creatures weren’t still after her, those men who’d put WME wrestlers to shame, would soon follow. She didn’t have the time, nor the energy, to waste. She staggered to a wall and leaned heavily on it. Warm wet heat pulsed between her fingers. She needed to stem the blood from her arm wound, and she needed to hide.

There was a chittering sound and an alien with the head of a praying mantis came her way. Its mandibles clicked and translucent wings rose behind its back.

That thing did not look like good news.

She lurched in the opposite direction and darted into an alley between two walls of sandstone. It was the same material as the ground—tan and gritty. Her entire surroundings seemed to be made of it. It seemed that apart from the space port, the planet was nothing but sand.

Various creatures strolled past the other end of the alley, which appeared to be a bustling street. No better place to become lost in than a sea of… things. There looked to be a range of them. Hopefully she could blend into the crowd.

She approached the end of the alley and peeked around the corner. Various stalls lined the street, offering different wares. Food smells wafted from all directions. Creatures sauntered past the stalls, pausing, looking, and buying. The creatures screeched, clicked, barked, and whistled. Vendors yelled at those passing by to purchase their wares.

She huffed a surprised breath. A market! Either marketplaces were a common occurrence throughout the universe, or her imagination was flatlining in creativity. She was just so damned weary. Every step was such agony, even her brain was having trouble conjuring up material. It was on the verge of total shutdown.

She needed to find a safe place to bunker down and rest for a while. Her muscles shook with fatigue and the coating of sweat on her skin was hot and sticky. Time to rest and then work out what clusterfuck she was in the middle of.

She spied a stall offering garments that fluttered in the breeze. Too many eyes kept coming her way. She needed a camouflage. She put her head down and as she slid past the stall, grabbed a garment and threw it around her shoulders and over her head as though she owned it.

Skin tingling, she forced herself to match the slow pace of the passing crowd so as not to stand out, all the while expecting someone to yell for their stolen garment. She passed more stalls, losing herself between bodies of different heights and shapes—creatures out of nightmares, dreams, and everything in between.

Her mind wanted to force herself into thinking she was dreaming, but the solid ground underfoot, the smells, the heat of the sun—no, make that two suns—beating on the thick, roughly woven material of the coat were too much to ignore.

She stumbled into a doorway, trying to organize her thoughts. She shoved the pain of her throbbing shoulder aside, using everything in her training to compartmentalize so that her mind cleared enough to work out a plan. A sketchy plan, but a plan, nonetheless.

How she wound up here, she had no idea, and that was the most frightening thing of all. The last thing she remembered before her life went to hell was racing along the Erye Highway along the Nullarbor on a reconnaissance mission to find missing SAS captain Vivien Demalzi. Best damn captain in the army, she should never have been disgraced by top brass, in her opinion. Top brass didn’t know shit from clay sometimes. Demalzi was a hero given the rough end of the stick for a mission gone wrong through no fault of her own, but people needed someone to blame and she’d been singled out.

The last thing Riley remembered was watching bright lights in the sky grow even brighter, and then… She shivered, her mind going back to when she’d first woken confused, disoriented, freezing, the world in total chaos. Apart from the freezing part, things hadn’t changed. Only now she hurt like a mother and she still had no answers in sight.

A hulking giant of a creature lumbered close. The being looked more like a lion, with a shaggy mane, flat nose, and rounded eyes. There was a fine layer of fur on its skin, much like a house cat, but that was where the similarity ended. It was dressed in a tanned trench coat and huge boots, and it carried weapons slung over its torso like clothing. Its massive furred paw gripped an evil-looking weapon as big as her leg. The creature stood over two heads taller than her.

She shrank into the doorway, tugged the hood over her face, and tried to make herself small, hoping that it would pass her by.

Two large boots stopped right in front of her. It took her a moment to realize that his grunting was actually him speaking to her. She shook her head, pulling the rim of her hood lower, hoping he would get the hint and go away.

She peeked from beneath the rim, looking for an out. Up ahead, the three men from the craft strode through the crowd. The creatures parted to let them through. Their faces were tight and focused, and they looked at everything and everyone surrounding them. The man with deep emerald green skin changed with splotches of crimson. The designs on his skin shone bright gold in the sunshine. He was beautiful in a harsh, kick-ass way. All three were.

“Magnificent,” was the word her brain supplied—along with the distinct impression that what they looked for so intently was her.

She stifled a shiver. The need to move, to hide, overrode concern for her immediate safety with the lion creature. She ignored the shriek of agony from torn muscles and skin, and darted away before any of them could lay a hand on her.

A large paw brushed past her back. She zigzagged around groups of people, ducking low, and crossed the street. She sidestepped into another alley leading away from the main thoroughfare. The place seemed to be riddled with them.

She wound through a warren of smaller and smaller alleyways, turning left and right without any discernable pattern, until she wasn’t even sure if she could make her way back if she wanted to. Peering over her shoulder intermittently, she verified no one followed.

As she took another turn, her knees wobbled and she stumbled.

She leaned against the rough-hewn wall, panting through the throbbing pain of her shoulder. A trickle of sticky perspiration ran down her forehead and stung her eye. Burning heat welled up from inside her, consuming and sucking what energy remained in her body. She was going to crash, and it was going to be soon.

The top half of her body throbbed in time with each heartbeat. She hadn’t even looked at the mess those talons had made. She didn’t have the energy to do that right now, but she would get to it—right after she passed out.

She’d been injured in Iran, when she’d been on her second tour, in a bid to stop some infighting in a back alley similar to this, but she’d received pain inhibiters almost immediately when a team member had come to her rescue.

This pain was grating, and getting worse. If it kept going like this, she wasn’t going to be able to even think soon.

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