Page 17 of Crossing Quinn

Chapter Four

Omnipresent red dust swirled in the wind. The setting sun turned the sky a gritty orange. I brought my hover bike to a stop by an eroded angle of granite that protruded from the sand like a giant finger giving the universe the bird. I quickly climbed to the top and psychically scanned Dolon’s ship. Drekk. Four of Nilus’s warriors were inside with my mother. Oh Goddess, Mami was probably freaking out or unconscious.

I needed a diversion. Triggering my ultrasonic bug caller, I waited until thousands of var bugs answered my summons and scrambled down the rock. They followed behind me like well-trained pets.

Quinn’s gruff voice sounded from my communications earbud, “Damn. You’re an alien version of the Pied Piper.”

How flattering. “I do not steal children.”

“Prickly little thing, aren’t you?”

“Only when I’m dealing with conceited know-it-alls like you.” My berserker senses sent a mental warning. The image of a badly sunburned warrior leaving the ship formed in my mind. Which meant I had about sixty seconds to prepare. I pulled my weapon and approached cautiously.

A warrior with a blister-covered face exited the ship, saw me, and went for his laser pistol.

I dropped to the ground, rolled, and fired.

The beam hit the warrior dead in the chest. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his body disintegrated into a million fireflies.

“Nice shootin’,” Quinn commented.

“Goddess, was that a compliment?”

“Don’t get cocky; you’re still outnumbered.”

“Yes, my lord,” I replied sarcastically, and used Papa’s handy scanner override to enter the ship. Keeping their distance, the bugs trailed me, clicking hungrily.

Throwing up an illusion of Nilus, an attractive, older male with cold, dead eye, I strutted down the hallway.

Three of Nilus’s thugs came to attention when they saw me.

Dropping my voice an octave, I demanded, “Where is the female?”

A warrior with a horrific scar across his face pulled his weapon. “You’re not Nilus. Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.” I tossed the bug caller at them. “Welcome to the nine hells.” I altered my illusion and it appeared as if I had vanished.

Scarface’s eyes widened in surprise. “Where did he go?”

Too busy looking for me, he failed to notice the var bugs surging up the walls and onto the ceiling. As one, they dropped onto the warriors, rapidly covering them from head to toe. Their horrified cries joined with the hissing clicks and created a scene right out of an Earth horror movie.

“Shit! They’re worse than a pack of ravenous wolves,” Quinn declared.

“There’s not much to eat on Qeeturah except iplo lizards, and they in turn eat the bugs.” My stomach rolled when a bug disappeared up Scarface’s nose. That was beyond nasty.

“Starving critters and a hostile environment. Makes for the perfect getaway,” Quinn said a little too cheerfully.

“Your getaway destination also includes hurricane-force winds, major sandstorms, and temperatures that can rise to 140 degrees.”

“I was raised in Arizona. I’m used to scorching temperatures and sandstorms,” Quinn replied.

“Been there. My mother insisted Papa and I investigate the Superstition Mountains in the dead of summer. Qeeturah’s heat beats Arizona’s hands down.”

Quinn snorted. “Hot is hot.”

“Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee! Aiieeeee!” The thugs broke into a wild jig as they battled feverishly to get rid of the hungry critters.

“Get in the cell!” Scarface yelled to his warriors.

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