Free Forbidden Worlds - Box Set by Bernadette Gardner Page A

the transport set down. These were braver than the first group, newer and more aggressive, apparently. Some threw stones and sticks, but the ones that merely stared while the ship intruded on their world drew Damon’s wary attention and held it. When he exited the transport on Mojar’s heels, flanked by Edmun, he kept those individuals in his line of sight.
    He didn’t like the fact that Tak remained inside with Lea, but at least this time she hadn’t insisted on coming out.
    “These two are armed.” Damon kept his tone even and conversational, tilting his head toward two males who stood erect only a few meters from the transport. Unlike the male they’d seen earlier, these still wore scraps of clothing and each carried a club that appeared to have been fashioned from a mammalian leg bone.
    “I’ll work quickly,” Mojar’s response was tinged with worry, but he continued scanning the converts as they gathered in greater numbers to ogle the visitors.
    These creatures moved slowly, warily, and there was no mistaking the spark of intelligence in their eyes. They remembered—perhaps not much, but enough to bring them dangerously close to the transport and its occupants.
    “Hurry up, Mojar. The leaders are restless. They don’t like us here.”
    Edmun backed up a bit, flanking Damon and drawing his own shock-stick. “Healer Mojar, they’re massing in the gully. I think they’re planning an attack.”
    “I’ve got an eighty-five percent match to Troy, in that direction.” Mojar pointed toward the eastern slope of the gully. He’s in the tree. No sign of Alor.”
    “How are we supposed to get to him?” Damon asked. He could just make out a silhouette where Mojar pointed. A leg, still clad in black flight pants, dangled from a thick branch.
    Mojar nodded toward Damon. “He’s your kin. Speak to him. He may recognize your voice.”
    Fuck. What was Damon supposed to do now? Troy didn’t know him. At this point, so close to gaining his revenge, would Mojar really take him to task for having lied?
    “Lea!” His sharp yell brought a phalanx of converts closer, and beside Damon, Edmun began to shake. Some guard. The man had no balls.
    “Lea!”
    “I’m here.” Her soft voice seemed to fill the dark glade and a dozen pairs of feral eyes turned to her.
    “Tree.” Damon pointed. “Say hello to Troy for me.”
    Mojar stared, and Lea licked her lips. “Troy? Can you hear me? It’s Lea.”
    The nearest convert flinched, preparing for battle. Damon raised his shock-stick, brandishing it in the same manner as the beastly thing held its bone club. A tense silence settled over the jungle, and in the tree, the creature clinging there began to stir.
    Lea stepped closer, and Damon moved to her side.
    “Troy? I’ve come to help you. Darya needs you. It’s time to come home.”
    A stark face appeared in the foliage, dominated by intelligent green eyes. Dirt smeared the man’s features, and wild hair hung down to his naked shoulders. Patches of brown pelt covered his chest, but he still wore regulation miner’s boots.
    “Come down.” Lea held out her hand. “Come home to Darya.”
    Mojar took aim with his scanner and nodded. “It’s him. Where is Alor?” she whispered as the creature approached her.
    “The others are moving closer. They’re getting used to us.” Edmun retreated a few more steps up the ramp. “I’m going to prep the engine.”
    “No noise,” Mojar warned in a sharp whisper. “Not until we have him.” Holstered on his hip, the healer wore a tranquilizer pistol. He reached for it now with the patient skill of a gunfighter.
    “Put him down before he touches Lea,” Damon warned, but she was already advancing toward the creature as he lowered himself from the tree branch. Strangely, the other nearby converts backed away, as if making room for the reunion. They watched in silent fascination as Lea held out her hand to Troy.
    “It’s time to help Darya and Alor. Where is