Page 71 of Made For The Alien Warrior

“Tiegan.” Sim-pony clutched him tightly, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

“Go,” he moaned, the ontenta bearing closer.

“No.”

“Leave me.” He tried to put as much firmness in his tone that he could, but it hurt to speak. His command escaped on a whispered croak. “Please.”

“I can’t.” Her tears spilled over his chest. The liquid ran down his torso and fell against the spine dagger gouging his body.

“Sim…”

“I can’t,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and holding on to him.

Tiegan inhaled her sweet scent, wishing that he had never met her. Wishing that she could have remained safe and sound on earth where she would have lived out her days in peace.

With the last of his strength, he raised his arm and settled it around her back, providing what little comfort he could before the agony of the ontenta stings began.

Suddenly, Sim-pony gasped. The buzzing of the ontenta cloud was deafening, but he thought he heard the thud of footsteps.

“Protect thexelan!” a deep voice cried.

Tiegan’s eyebrows jumped. Why did that voice sound like something out of his faintest memories?

Blue knees dropped into the ground at eye level. An electronic buzz chirped near his ears and a giant orange dome formed around them. The orange material glowed and through the transparent covering, he saw the ontentas attack.

Sim-pony screamed and covered her head, nearly jumping on top of him when the ontentas flung themselves against the dome.

All around, more domes appeared. The orange material connected, forming a canopy over thexelanblooms.

Tiegan’s vision became dotty and he shook his head, fighting to stay conscious. Who were their rescuers? And why did the voice sound so familiar?

His gaze roved the dome and went downward until he could find the one who held the roof above them. A Plutonian. Blue skin. Corded muscles. Purple eyes filled with quiet panic.

“Tiegan, you must hold on,” the warrior growled, wincing as the ontenta violently banged against the dome.

Tiegan’s eyes fell on the tattoos adorning the warrior’s chest. His eyes widened and black spots danced before him. Neh. Why did those designs remind him of his own birth-markings? But how could that be? He had no kin on this planet. His father had long abandoned their tribas and left him behind.

Was he imagining things in his death?

The ontenta’s buzzing became louder as they grew frustrated.

The domes shook beneath the weight of their collected assault.

Bang!

Sim-pony ducked and grabbed his hand, squeezing painfully. He grunted but, when she tried to remove her hand, he closed his fingers over hers. The connection brought him comfort. At least, for now, she was safe from the ontenta.

Bang!

The ontenta made another attack.

Rumblings of fear rose from the Plutonians holding up the orange canopy.

“Terros, the dome cannot hold for much longer!”

“Hold it!” The warrior protecting them yelled. “Hold it!”

Bang!

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