“He is breathing,” Ronan said, his voice snatched away by the wind.
Cynara clasped Ronan’s hand and grinned. She tried to toss one of the blankets over his shoulders, but he caught it in midair and tucked it around Kord.
Alike as two limpets on a rock, she thought in disgust. Kord had several cuts on his forehead and gashes in his suit, but no visible serious injuries. Most worrisome was his apparent unconsciousness. Cynara pushed up Kord’s sleeve and set the medscan against bare skin. The readout indicated broken ribs, a contusion to the forehead, a fractured wrist and tibia, and numerous small lacerations and bruises.
“Zheng,” she said into her comlink, “did you get the data?”
“Affirmative. Is he conscious?”
“He seems to be sleeping.”
“Get him awake as quickly as you can.”
Ronan touched Cynara’s arm. Kord’s eyes had opened. He seemed to focus on her for a moment, and then his gaze wandered to Ronan. His left arm twitched.
“It’s all right, my friend,” she murmured. Ronan helped her strap Kord into the litter, and she activated the transparent bubble that would protect him from the elements. Together she and Ronan lifted the litter and retraced their steps.
Kord’s weight was far less a burden than Cynara’s concern for Ronan. Whatever allowed him to function under these conditions couldn’t last indefinitely. He was still only human…
The litter jiggled. Cynara half turned, expecting the worst, but Ronan was still on his feet and staring past her shoulder.
She followed his gaze to the man with the rifle pointed directly at her heart.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Gunter tore the protective folds of cloth away from his mouth and spat in the snow. “The suit,” he said. “It stinks of shaauri.”
Cynara could only speculate how he’d detected the connection between Ronan and shaauri, but Gunter’s obvious disgust explained why he wasn’t wearing their “gift.”
If she dropped Kord, she might be able to get his rifle, but her only chance was to act before he expected it.
“Don’t even think about it, missy,” Gunter snarled. “You made a bad deal. Suit’s no good. You pay up.” He moved to the litter and stared down at Kord. “You want him alive, you pay.”
Cynara set down her end of the litter. “Return the suit, and we’ll get you another.”
“No good.” The space between Cynara’s shoulders itched, and she could almost feel Ronan weighing his chances. She had no doubt that he’d act just as recklessly as Kord would in the same situation.
“What do you want now?” she demanded.
Much to her surprise, Gunter backed away, rifle cradled in his arms. “You come to my cave, alone,” he said to Cynara. “Anyone else comes, I shoot him.”
It almost seemed inevitable, though the prospect turned her stomach. “I’m a very poor bargain compared to a suit and supplies.”
“That’s the deal. You come alone. If you try to pass, I shoot all of you.” He backed away over the next small hill, where he undoubtedly planned to wait until she accepted his kind offer or tested his resolve to murder them.
She tugged on the litter, urging Ronan toward a more sheltered place under a rocky overhang. Somehow he managed to place himself with his back facing outward to the storm, making a shelter of his body for Cynara.
“You cannot go to him,” he said simply.
“Right,” Kord grunted, his voice muffled through the bubble.
“How are you?” Cynara asked, crouching beside the litter.
“I’m alive.” He peered up at Ronan. “Don’t… let her.”
“I will not.” Ronan met her eyes. “This Gunter is ne’lin and without females. He wishes to mate with you by force. This is not acceptable among humans.”
A blush was highly incongruous at the moment. “Damn what’s acceptable among humans. I think he means what he says. He’ll shoot us if we try to pass.”
“We do not know if his weapon functions.”
“I’m not going to take that chance.”
“Then let me fight him.”
“In your condition?”
“While I distract him, you take Kord to the shuttle.”
“And what if you’re hurt?”
He made an awkward imitation of a shrug. “If I were your ve’laik’in, it would be my duty.”