Free Lady of the Star Wind by Veronica Scott

horse, where she locked her arms around his waist.
    He kicked the horse’s flanks and headed to the base of the oasis mountain, where her own people waited. The enemy chariots were making wide turns and attempting to follow him. Mark fired off a few shots, aiming at the chariot drivers. He managed to wing one man, who lost control of his vehicle, which crashed into the one next to it. The remaining chariot came to a halt, its passengers apparently intimidated by his ability to deliver death long range.
    Satisfied, he galloped back to the scene of the recent battle.
    The apparent second-in-command met him. As the woman called out to him, this soldier gave Mark a searching look, continuing his study as he assisted the rescued lady to dismount.
    The local asked a question. The language had an annoyingly familiar sound, Mark thought, as he dismounted, hanging on to the broken leather straps. He got about half the gist of what the man said. He’d been given hypno implants on many languages during various missions in the Sectors, and the babel sorted itself out in the unconscious part of his brain as the master implant analyzed the input. One language came to the fore out of the cacophony.
      High Chetal.  
      Well, better than nothing.
    “We’ve got to get inside before your enemies return,” Mark told the soldier.
    “Thank you and the lady for coming to our assistance, my lord.” The man saluted, fist over the heart.
    “The lady—” Mark spun around. Sandy had disobeyed his orders. She must have gone upstairs to the aerie to retrieve her medical kit, which now lay open beside her as she worked over the injured officer
    Livid, he couldn’t honestly say he was surprised. She was a doctor, so of course she’d come to help. Handing the horse off to an open-mouthed soldier standing nearby, Mark strode over to the princess. “How is he?”
    Clearly in professional mode, Sandy answered matter-of-factly. “Head trauma. Probably a concussion. Nothing he can’t recover from. Those two over there are dead. The others have superficial wounds.”
    The soldier holding Mark’s horse shouted and pointed to the east, where a new dust cloud sprouted on the horizon. Mark caught the arm of the man who had greeted him. Switching easily from Outlier to High Chetal, he said, “We need to get the horses and ourselves to a safe place right away, before your enemies come back.”
    Eyeing him, but apparently willing to take sensible orders, the warrior hastened toward the horses, calling to his few remaining troopers.  
    Mark gave his attention to Sandy and the unconscious patient. “We have to move this man inside the garage.”
    She stood, drawing the other woman with her. “I understand. Try not to jar him too much.”
    “Get going!” Mark gave her a not-too-gentle push in the direction of the incline leading to the garage door.
    Two of the soldiers came to carry their fallen officer across the narrow passage, up the hill, and into the opening in the side of the mountain. Mark and the others brought the horses and as much of the gear as the men could carry. The broken chariots and the fallen soldiers of both sides had to be left where they were, for now. He heard the sound of the approaching enemy chariots as Sandy keyed the portal door closed. Pivoing on his heel, he faced their motley assortment of new guests.

CHAPTER THREE

    The four surviving soldiers had gone to one knee before Mark, heads bowed, right hands to their left shoulders in a salute. The woman remained standing, staring at him in a mixture of defiance and fear. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her chest heaved as she breathed heavily.
    “You can talk to them?” Sandy knelt beside her patient, taking his pulse. “Is this a planet you’ve been on after all?”
    “No. The language is similar to one I had hypno implanted for a mission a long time ago. I’m not getting everything these people say, so they’re probably having just as much trouble with