Author: Lyn

Chapter One

“Hold tight, Shifter, this is going to be bumpy.”

The small vehicle careened down the incline, ploughing a deep trough and throwing up a cloud of dirt and sand. Eventually it plunged through the tangled branches of a
group of slender trees and bushes at the bottom, and shuddered to a halt. For a moment, sandy soil and a blur of green and brown severed leaves and twigs on the external scanner obscured the view. Cat Kincaid ground her teeth and activated a control.

A gust of recycled air blew away the offending sand and foliage, and the screen before her displayed the surrounding terrain. A bleak, undulating landscape, punctuated by clumps of scrubby trees and bushes, like the ones she’d crashed into, stretched into the distance. A small forest bordered most of the far side of a steep slope behind her. She grabbed her emergency pack, and slung it over her shoulder, before swiping the airlock control. Let’s hope the computer was right about the atmosphere and pressure on this planet being compatible with human requirements.

“Come on Shifter,” she called, and a large animal materialized like a wraith from the shadows inside the vehicle. Two minutes later, after confirming the temperature, pressure and air composition, Cat emerged from her crippled craft. She gave a cautious sniff to the air, then took a deeper breath, glancing up at a sullen, pale copper coloured sky. Although the atmosphere
smelled a little sulphurous, the air was perfectly breathable. She stepped to the surface, and gave an involuntary start as the silence rent asunder with the unmistakable whine and shriek of blaster fire. She drew her pistol and ducked, using the hull of the craft as cover, acting on instinct, before logic cut in. Whoever it was, they weren’t firing at her, and they were some distance away.

At least she wasn’t alone. If life on this planet had advanced to a point where the inhabitants possessed power weapons, they might also have space vehicles, and be her means of escape—if she could just keep them from killing her.

She listened for a moment to confirm the direction of the firing. It came from somewhere beyond the rim of the sandy cliff behind her. It took several minutes to scramble to the top of the slope and peer cautiously above the edge.

The battle sounded closer now, coming from the other side of several low dunes looming before her. She bent low against a scorching wind that lashed the sand around her into swirling eddies. She cursed as it snatched several long strands of her hair from the scarf that struggled to restrain it at the nape of her neck. Like a dark red mist, the unbound hair whipped across her face, blurring her vision. She brushed it back, with a few more muttered words of annoyance. As she reached the top of another low hillock, the sky lit up with a scintillating green light and the sound of the weapons almost deafened her. Her fingers tightened on her laser pistol, and throwing herself to the ground, she inched her way to a group of thorny bushes for cover.

She strained to see how many combatants were involved. The air shimmered and danced in coruscating hues of blue and green, heavy with blaster smoke. Putting her tri-dee-viewer to her eyes, she adjusted the range. Three figures crouched behind a rock to one side of her in the shallow valley below. As far as she could make out, they were human. On the other side of the
little clearing where the vegetation took over again, a much larger group, apparently also humanoid, kept up a relentless barrage of blaster fire. From this viewpoint, it looked as if they outnumbered the three several times over.

She raised her weapon undecided as to whether she should get involved or not. This was not her fight, especially since she didn’t even know who they were. She drew in her breath. It would be cowardly just to leave. No one could call Cat Kincaid a coward, but she wasn’t a fool either, nor about to commit suicide. However, allying herself with them might be her best hope of escape from this planet. A slight movement in the bushes just below her, to her right, and a low humming noise, warned her of another weapon firing up. A flash of light cut the air, and the shortest of the three figures gave a strangled cry, crumpling to the ground.

One of the men swung round and fired in their assailants’ direction, while the other bent to tend to their companion. Casting a quick look to her left, she took advantage of the confusion to check her surroundings. No sign of Shifter. She hoped he’d just merged into the landscape, but she couldn’t risk checking, and could only trust he would find cover. The injury, or perhaps death, of one of the combatants lengthened the odds against them even further, making the decision for her. She couldn’t just walk away from the situation.

One of the antagonists fired again, raising his head above the rock as he took aim. Cat fired back, rewarded by a shrill cry as the figure fell. The metallic reek of blaster fire hung in the air, and
the roar and whine of the weapons intensified. She flattened herself closer to the ground as another blaster bolt exploded into the dirt some distance from where she lay, scorching the sandy soil and shrivelling the undergrowth, sending down a cascade of small rocks and pebbles.

She rolled to the side as far as she could, at the same time, letting loose a few more bolts from her pistol. After several seconds, she risked a peek below her. One of the three, a dark haired man dressed in black, seemed to be holding his own and covering his two companions. A second man, blond haired and of slender build, knelt beside the motionless form of their fallen comrade. She made an adjustment to her weapon and flicked a control. At this rate, they could go on
taking pot shots at the unknown enemy until they all died of starvation. She could at least shorten the odds a little.

Another crack of blaster fire caused her to duck for cover again. The salvo lasted for what seemed an interminable time. When the firing ceased, she risked another look. There was no sign of the other man or his wounded companion. The man in black crouched behind a rock.
Where’s the other one? Did he leave his friend to fend off the attackers by himself? She could not make him out clearly because of the distance, but he appeared to be alone.
What happened to the one who’d been shot?

She took the tri-dee-viewer from around her neck and focused it on the figure fighting a lone battle against an unknown number of opponents. He must be either very brave or very foolhardy. She adjusted the range and sucked in her breath. Even with his back toward her, something about his general physique and the way he held himself struck her as being almost familiar.
Idiot. You’re letting your imagination play tricks. You have no idea who that is down there, so why are myou getting involved in the first place?Her priority must be to find a way off this planet. For now, though, she needed to get back to the safety of her escape vehicle before dark, but the likelihood of doing that seemed slimmer every moment. She pressed the trigger control and fired again.
****
Where did that damned smoke come from? Kerry Marchant wiped his streaming eyes and tried to focus  on the area where he last saw his attackers. Who are these people? They had appeared from nowhere and fired at him and his two crewmates without warning or provocation. There was another question—the identity of the third party who seemed to be siding with them against their attackers. He turned back to glance at Jon Quinlan. The main concern, at the moment, was Zeldra.

“How is she?” he asked, indicating the unconscious woman. The other man looked up from his ministrations, coughing and trying to waft some of the choking smoke away with his hand. “Not good. I’ve used my bioregenerator and it’s repaired some of the damage. We need to get her back to the Destiny.”

“Then take her. At least this smoke will give you some cover. I’ll hold them off here for as long as I can.”

“What? And leave you here to fight them alone?”

“I can handle it. Come back for me.”

“I don’t like the thought of leaving you down here—”

“Have you a better idea? We can’t both go. We would just be sitting targets if this smoke clears. I can cover you, but as the Destiny’s commander, you need to be with the ship.”

“We don’t have time to argue—just make sure you stay in contact.” The commander slung the woman’s unconscious form over his shoulder and bending low beneath the smoke, edged his way back the way they’d come, keeping close to the tree-line. Kerry kept their attackers busy with a volley of well-aimed blaster fire.

How many of them are there? He must be hopelessly outnumbered, but he might as well be killed here as on some other planet. If only he could keep them busy long enough for Jon to get Zeldra safely to the Destiny’s ferry craft. He ducked behind the boulder as another volley of
blaster fire singed the surrounding undergrowth. He  fired once more and heard a strangled scream as another of his assailants went down.

A long silence ensued.

What are they waiting for? It seemed unlikely they were all dead or injured. However, an injured man, like a wounded animal, could be more dangerous than an uninjured one. He checked his blaster. The charge still held but it would not be long before it ran down. He allowed another couple of minutes to elapse before risking a look. The smoke still hung in the air, although it seemed to be clearing a little. Apart from several bodies, the landscape seemed deserted. With all
the caution he could muster, finger on the trigger button, he crept from around the rock. He froze. Sensing movement in the boulders opposite, he dived back again. Just as he reached the shelter of the rock, the ground seemed to explode around him. A piercing pain shot through his shoulder and he knew no more.
****
Cat paused and listened. The blaster fire ceased several minutes ago. The silence lay thick and as heavy as the smoke after the din of power weapons moments before. She should have been long gone. I should leave now, while I still can.

The effects of the smoke capsule she’d released would not last long. Already the air was becoming clearer. She turned once more and trained her viewer back on the clump of rocks. The man in black lay motionless.

Leave him. Leave him and get out of here. If she was right and he and his companions were human, presumably they’d have some sort of transit ship, unless their starship was small enough for planetary landings. Either way, they’d surely come back for him. Then it dawned on her that if they returned, perhaps she could persuade—or force—them to take her with them. If he was alive, he’d serve as a bargaining chip.

She checked her weapon and looked down again on the scene of the recent battle. A gray haze still hung over the area, the motionless figure on the ground barely visible in the gloom. There were no other signs of life. She waited a few more minutes and let off another shot. No response. Either their assailants were dead, or they had escaped under the cover of smoke. Perhaps they believed they’d killed the three people they’d been firing on, although nagging caution warned her it seemed strange they did not come back to check.

Holding her gun in both hands ready to fire, every nerve alert, she pushed the thought to one side and made her way down to where the fallen man lay. A spreading crimson stain showed on his shoulder and chest. Shards of rock lay everywhere, most of it from the large boulder he’d sheltered behind, split down the middle almost in two pieces. It must have absorbed most of the blast so he missed the main force. It looked like the wound was caused by the shattering rock, or the damage would have been a whole lot worse, and she probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything for him.

She knelt and drew in her breath. Kerry Marchant. She’d only seen holograms of the
man. She could not recall noticing the faint scar beneath his left eye before, but it must be him. He’d changed little in the five years since she first saw the images, after searching through countless holo-libraries, and those features were unforgettable. She allowed herself the hint of a smile. She’d always hoped one day she’d run into him, and now fate played right into her hands.
For a fleeting moment, she thought of killing him there and then, but she was not a cold-blooded
murderer. She could just leave him, let him bleed to death, but she wanted to be the instrument of his demise when it came. She wanted him to know who killed him—and why. Besides, she had questions only he could answer. His gun lay nearby and she grabbed it with one hand, without taking her eyes off him, and slipped it under her belt. His eyes were closed, his face pale but his breathing steady. She needed to work quickly before he regained consciousness. Not that she was sure she could help him anyway. It depended on the extent of the damage.

Glancing warily around before holstering her own gun, she slid her emergency pack from her shoulder. She rummaged inside and brought out a compressed blanket. Taking it from its container, she waited until it fluffed out, and folded it into a thick pad to support his head. Next, she took her medical kit and laid it on the ground while she attempted to unfasten his tunic. In the warm air, the blood dried quickly, and the leather-like material stuck to the wound. She would need to cut his shirt. A silver chain hung around his neck with a small
oblong metal capsule. Cat hesitated for a moment, before curiosity got the better of her, and she flipped open the lid. A soft, cushioning material lined the interior. She tipped the contents into her hand—a tiny gold cross and a locket. A quick glance at the inside of the locket revealed the portrait of a young woman with short dark hair curving in soft waves to frame her face,
blue eyes, and a long, aquiline nose. The family resemblance looked too close for it to be a wife 
girlfriend, so perhaps the image portrayed his sister or mother. Swiftly, she replaced the two items.

As Cat bent over him, her hair, now loosened completely from the scarf, swung forward, and she
shook it back from her face with an impatient gesture. She took her knife from her belt, and inserted the point into the material of his tunic. At once, a hand reached up and grabbed her wrist, with fingers like cold, carbon steel.