Free The Cresperian Alliance by Stephanie Osborn Page B

that doesn't mean what it sounds like."
    Sira's voice murmured something in Cresperian, and Piki answered in kind.
    "It does,” Sira noted grimly. “He raped her."
    Between highly effective machine gun fire and disintegrator rays, the safehouse was in complete disarray, and soon the extraction team realized they weren't being followed. Everyone in the small group was invisible except Piki, and her green pelt blended with the foliage reasonably well, so it was unlikely anyone could see them well enough to target them anyway. They didn't slow down, however; an aircraft carrier was off the coast in international waters, and its Harriers carried more than just training missiles, as did the F-22s covering them. Tomlinson called out checkpoint times as they went, and although they were slightly ahead of schedule, due to the “shortcut” down to the underground level, it wasn't enough to suit them. Tomlinson, in the lead, suddenly blurted, “Otter slides!"
    "What?” Bang wondered.
    "Look at these!” The Hope Leader subvocally deactivated his invisibility neckband and pointed to several smooth, muddy rivulets running down the side of the tor, avoiding rock outcrops and boulders like a bobsled run. “They're sea otter slides! We can use them to speed up our descent!"
    "I don't think they have sea otters in the Atlantic, sir,” Bangler replied thoughtfully, feeling somewhat dizzy and seizing on the concept in an effort to focus. “It might be the Eurasian species, though. They're making a comeback around here."
    Tomlinson rolled his eyes. “Either way, Bang, somebody's watching out for us!"
    "Biology major,” Nunez noted with a grin.
    "Lead the way, boss!” Wersky declared.
    Tomlinson plopped down on his ass in the slippery mud and shoved off. He zipped downhill on the slick, rain-wet surface, easily following the contours of the animal-carved descent. Sira followed immediately. Nervous, Piki located Bangler by perception and clambered onto his back. “You helps?” she whispered in his ear.
    "...Yeah,” he agreed, hoping his arm and chest would hold out. He didn't think his arm was bleeding too much—he hadn't felt blood on his fingers yet—but he was pretty sure his ribs wouldn't take much more pounding, and as heavily as he was breathing, his chest hurt bad. Nevertheless, he eased himself onto the otter slide, Piki on his back, and shoved off.
    Seconds later, the rest were following suit.
    There were a couple of mishaps, where the otter runs ran out or ended in mud piles, and once Bangler went chest first into a boulder, burdened as he was with Piki's additional weight. He managed to protect the Crispy's hands and feet. But he thought he felt something crack in his chest. Suddenly breathing became a lot more painful. Shit. There goes a rib. Thank God for body armor, or I'd be singing soprano about now, he thought, looking on the bright side. He picked himself up, hefted the lightweight Piki more firmly onto his back, and ran after the others, trying hard to ignore the pain. After all, if I don't make the sub, that'll hurt a lot worse. Adrenaline coursed through him, and instantly the pain diminished.
    The shore was predictably rocky, with waves breaking over boulders the size of Volkswagens and seaweed, ripped from the bottom by the passing storm, lodged slimily in every crevice. The team could faintly hear boats already headed out to a dark, sea monster like shape barely discernible in the foggy bay. Another two rubber boats rested onshore, their pilots antsy to be off. The last of White Horse bailed unceremoniously into the rafts, Sira and Tomlinson in one, Bangler and Piki in the other. Several of the remaining team jumped in with Sira and Tomlinson, including Taylor, who had stayed behind to help haul up Bangler and the third new Crispy. Wersky and Nunez joined Bangler and Piki, and Nunez eased a clinging Piki off Bangler's back as the pilots shoved off and revved the stealth engines toward the submarine. The