Free Forbidden Worlds - Box Set by Bernadette Gardner Page B

Alor?”
    Troy’s gaze flicked to the jungle. He knew where Mojar’s woman was, but he couldn’t say. He’d lost the ability to speak.
    Mojar aimed the tranq gun and stepped back. If he fired now, he’d probably cause a panic, but Damon didn’t dare turn around to stop him. “Mojar, hold your—”
    The last thing Damon heard was the rapid fire—phut, phut, phut—of three shots from the tranq gun. Troy went down, and so did Lea. Numbness trailed down Damon’s arm from a point of sharp pain in the back of his neck.
    Dazed, dropped the shock-stick and sank to his knees in the spongy moss.
    After that, there was only blackness.

Chapter 5
     
     
    Damon woke with the taste of moss on his lips and the gamey scent of a convert in his nostrils. Troy’s upper body lay beneath him. They’d toppled together after Mojar hit them both with tranq darts. Disgusted, he rolled to one side and pushed himself up with one arm. All of this body parts seemed to be intact and working, though every limb felt sluggish and heavy as lead. It took him several tries to coordinate the necessary movements to pull the small projectile from the aching flesh beneath his shoulder blade.
    Damn the Braxan. Damon would enjoy killing him.
    At least they’d left his daggers and the shock-stick, but his blast rifle was gone from the holster slung across his back.
    Lea lay a few feet away, a dart protruding from her thigh.
    With deliberate effort, Damon forced his body to move toward her. Her lips were colorless and her breathing terribly shallow, but she moaned when he placed two fingers over her carotid pulse. Something in his chest clenched in relief that the massive dose of tranquilizer hadn’t killed her.
    She winced when he yanked the dart from her skin, and her eyes fluttered as if she were fighting to return to consciousness. Damon resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. Instead he drew the shorter of his two blades and turned toward Troy.
    Months of living in the jungle had taken an obvious toll on the man. Beneath his patchy beard, his cheeks were gaunt, and his eyes were sunken. The elongated fingernails that Damon had seen as claws were jagged and caked with dirt. His breathing was quick, shallow and spoke of physical hardships. He slept like an animal that was unused to peaceful rest.
    And he’d probably wake like one as well. Quickly and without emotion, Damon cut away the tattered legs of Troy’s flight pants beneath each knee and tore the dirt-encrusted fabric into strips. When the convert woke, he’d find himself securely bound.
    By the time Damon finished his task, Lea had begun to stir. He sheathed his dagger and turned to her, careful to keep his expression neutral.
    “What happened?” She croaked the words through dry lips, and Damon wondered if they dared look for water. Consuming anything native to Ambrax would only hasten their own transformation, but they needed to keep hydrated, or they wouldn’t live long enough for him to take his revenge on Mojar.
    “Mojar dumped us out here. I’m guessing the only reason he didn’t just kill us is because he expected the converts would take care of that for him.”
    Lea blinked as if trying to get her eyes to work properly. “Why didn’t they?”
    “I think the transport engines scared them off, but they’ll probably be back if things stay quiet for a while. We’re going to need to move.”
    After a moment, Lea sat up. She rubbed at the small dart wound on her thigh, grimacing. Then her gaze fell on Troy. “My God, he looks awful.”
    Damon resisted the urge to reach out and help her up. He kept his voice neutral to hide his relief that she seemed to be all right. “You said he used to be a bailer technician—”
    “Yeah, until my father fired him for inappropriate conduct with my sister.”
    “Well, based on that, his survival skills probably consist of keeping the fuel flow regulated and getting to the chow line on time. A few more months out here and he’d