The Tracker's Dilemma: (A Mandrake Company Science Fiction Romance) (17 page)

As Tick righted himself in the dark and ran down the aisle, hoping to plow into Hemlock, the shuttle struck something. The shock hurled him through the curtain and into Lauren’s lab. A feminine squawk told him that he’d landed on her. Damn it.

“Sorry,” he blurted as he rolled away, trying not to stick knees or elbows into her gut.

Tick wrinkled his nose as an acrid smoky odor tickled his nostrils. This time, he cursed out loud, recognizing the scent. An aerosol tranquilizer.

He clamped his mouth shut, but feared it was already too late, especially if Hemlock had set it off at the back of the shuttle. Tick had taken that breath to apologize to Lauren. Still, he pushed off the deck, hoping he might catch the plotting corporal before he passed out.

He didn’t make it further than his knees before the shuttle crashed.

A thud sounded, the impact hurling him back to the ground, where he landed on something soft. Lauren, again? A jolt half threw him off her and into a cabinet. His head struck unyielding metal.

An agonized scrape, like a thousand machines crying out in pain, filled his ears. Another heave jostled him, and he slumped to the deck. He cracked his head on something again, and stars danced before his eyes. They were all he could see, since the utter darkness had not abated. He had the sensation that the shuttle was falling, but the damned aerosol gas flitted up his nostrils, and he lost consciousness before the craft struck the ground.

Chapter 10

Lauren woke up in the dark, flat on her back, with something—someone—heavy sprawled across her. She blinked a few times, thinking the darkness had to do with her eyes, but her memories slowly trickled back to her. The lights had gone out before she’d lost consciousness, before they had crashed.

Crashed! She lifted her head—it and her right foot were the only things that weren’t pinned down—but of course, she could see nothing. The back of her skull throbbed, like she had struck it against something as she fell, but she didn’t remember that. All she remembered were a few confused shouts, someone falling on top of her, the shuttle striking something, and then it falling.

A hiss sounded, and light trickled inside, creeping under her curtain, which hung in disarray. Had someone left? She couldn’t imagine just walking out—the way the deck tilted under her, she envisioned them perched on a mountainside.

A groan came from atop her.

“Heath?” Lauren guessed, vaguely remembering that she had recognized his voice after he’d tumbled into her and apologized.

She tried to wriggle out from under him, but he was dead weight and heavier than an ox. Well, technically, he was 187 pounds, as she recalled from the medical records she’d made him bring her, but it was all muscle without any fat, and that just made him seem heavier in this state.

She poked him on the shoulder, hoping to rouse him fully. Gasps and moans of pain came from other areas of the shuttle. She needed to go check on people. Even though her hospital experience was scant, and had mostly involved her helping deliver a baby during grad school, she might be the closest thing to a medic in here.

“Heath?” Lauren whispered again, lifting her hand from his shoulder to the back of his head. His face was pressed into her shoulder. She slid her hand through his hair, looking for a knot or blood. He had lost his hat. A silly thing to notice. “Sergeant Tick?”

He was warm and definitely breathing, but he did not move. She felt a lump on the back of his head, perhaps similar to the one she sported, but her hand did not come away bloody. Wasn’t there some fairy tale from Old Earth about waking someone with a kiss? Too bad kisses were so unappealing. She slid her hand down his back, debating how to lever him off her, when a mischievous thought inappropriately and uncharacteristically appeared in her mind. Earlier, she had been admiring his butt. Now she had easy access to it—as easy as access could be while one was squished under a big man. She let her hand drift lower, cupped it, and gave a little squeeze. To check for injuries of course.

There was nothing sexual about the gesture, but she held it for a moment, feeling almost possessive. Mine, the thought arose in the back of her mind. Not her sister’s.

Though she acknowledged that the thoughts were silly—even if she could own another person, why in all of the galaxy would she want to?—she held him for a long moment, listening to the grunts and groans of other people rising, of a few mumbled questions. Everyone else sounded as confused as she.

Heath groaned, this time stirring slightly. Lauren yanked her hand away from his butt, as if she’d been caught doing something illicit. Or at least naughty.

“Sergeant Tick,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you would remove yourself from on top of me.”

The next groan sounded more cognizant, with a questioning tone to it. His hands moved, patting around as he shifted his weight away from her. For a moment, his fingers rested on the side of her face, as if he were a blind and deaf man identifying her by touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, a wince in his voice—that lump probably made his head hurt when he moved. “But I thought I told you to call me Heath.”

He rolled off her, and she inhaled deeply, her ribs pleased to be free, even if a part of her noticed the coolness of the air and missed the feel of his body against hers. How strange to miss discomfort.

“I don’t think this is the time to worry about such things,” she said, trying not to feel like a hypocrite since she had been caressing his butt a mere minute earlier. As if it was the time for
that
.

“Right, what happened?” He kneeled back, looking toward the curtain. “I remember—oh, shit.” He lunged to his feet, wobbled, and caught himself by grabbing the curtain, barely noticing when a couple of the bolts snapped free. He shoved it aside and hustled out of the lab.

“Who went outside?” someone asked as Lauren pushed herself slowly to her feet, her head throbbing.

“Viktor?” That was Ankari—contacting the other shuttles?

Lauren gripped the edge of her counter, her surroundings barely visible in the daylight coming in through the hatch. She grabbed a couple of painkillers out of a cabinet before staggering through her curtain. Her hip had taken a bump, too, and the joint ached with each step.

“Where’s Keys?” someone asked—Striker?

“Here,” Lauren said, though right after she spoke, she realized he might be talking about her sister. A new feeling of alarm streaked through her nerves. Hailey wouldn’t have been foolish enough to run out into the jungle by herself, would she? And if so, why? They couldn’t have crashed on top of her druids.

“The other one,” Striker said, frowning over at Lauren.

“Corporal Hemlock’s missing,” Lieutenant Sparks said.

“Tick just ran outside.”

After making sure Jamie and Ankari had their eyes open—all of the mercenaries had staggered to their feet, though some looked as pained as Lauren felt—she turned toward the open hatch. The huge trunk of a tree rose up right beyond it. Nobody had extended the ramp yet, so she paused at the edge, peering into the wilds.

Howls and screeches came from the jungle. Smoke wafted from the bottom of the shuttle, which rested lopsidedly on a rocky shelf at the base of a cliff. From the hatchway, she couldn’t see the extent of the damage, but wagered Jamie and Sparks would have a lot of work to do to get it in the air again, if they could get it in the air at all.

“Did Hemlock
take
her?” Ankari asked.

Lauren blinked. Why would he have done that? She spotted Heath, already crouched several meters away, two fingers to the ground. Tracking.

“Ankari?” came Mandrake’s voice, barely audible through Ankari’s comm-patch. “We saw the crash. We’re looking for a spot to land. Stay put.”

“We can’t,” Ankari said. “Your employer is missing, along with one of your men.”

“Explain,” Mandrake said.

Lauren sat on the edge of the hatchway, then hopped down, her hip protesting the movement. But if Hailey was missing, she had to do something. How she could help, she had no idea, but she couldn’t idly wait for the other shuttles. Besides, she was the only one who had a clue as to what Hailey was up to, and if her sister had been taken because of her knowledge or because of her project, that could be important.

“Heath?” she asked, the rest of Ankari and Mandrake’s conversation fading from hearing as she moved away from the shuttle.

“I’ve got the trail. He’s carrying her, probably over his shoulder.” Heath turned, meeting Lauren’s eyes briefly—he winced, as if he blamed himself for something. “Lieutenant Sparks?” he said up to the hatchway. “I’m going after Hemlock. Tell the captain.” He waved toward Ankari, who wore a distracted expression as she conversed with Mandrake.

“Sergeant, that’s not quite how it works,” Sparks said. “You’re supposed to ask the lieutenants if you can do things, not tell them to deliver your messages.”

“You’re only an L.T. because you know how to fix torpedoes and you finished that degree in basket-weaving or whatever it was.”

“Carpentry.”

Heath had already turned back to the trail, looking like he intended to run off immediately.

“Wait for me,” Lauren said. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Heath frowned over his shoulder.

“Neither of you is going anywhere,” Ankari said from the top of the hatchway. “Viktor said to wait. He’s bringing the other two shuttles down, and everyone will help search.”

“I can’t delay, or we might lose her.” Heath shifted from foot to foot. “He’s taking her to sell to some bounty hunter. There’s no telling how far away the other ship is. He could already be halfway there.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Ankari asked.

“You saw his thoughts,” Lauren said, thinking of his wince, his guilty expression. Had he known what Hemlock intended, but not soon enough to do anything about it? For that matter, had that been Hemlock causing all of the errors in the shuttle?

“Just a flash,” Heath said. “Enough to know there’s very little time.” He drew a knife from a sheath on his belt and waved it. “Tell the captain, I’ll mark the trail so his team can follow me.”

By now, Lauren had walked over to him. “I’m going with you. My sister probably knows less about all this than her kidnappers—whoever made a deal with Hemlock—think. My knowledge may be necessary to talk them out of… whatever they plan.” She grimaced, hardly believing she was volunteering to tramp into this damned jungle again. Once she had time to think about this, she would doubtlessly grow aware of her insanity.

“You’ll just slow him down,” Sergeant Striker told Lauren. He’d hopped out of the shuttle with Lieutenant Sparks and Jamie, the latter two immediately moving around the hull to assess damage. “Better stay here, Doc.”

Heath looked at Lauren instead of Striker.

She lifted her chin. “My sister grates on my nerves, uses methods I find unethical bordering on nefarious, and is the reason we’re all in trouble. But she’s all I have. I have to go after her.”

Heath gripped her shoulder and nodded back toward the shuttle. “Dr. Keys is coming with me.”

Ankari opened her mouth, as if to object, but Lauren frowned at her, and she didn’t. She did hold up a finger. “Wait one second.”

Ankari disappeared inside. Lauren waited. Heath did not. His gaze toward the ground, and whatever signs he saw in the mud and foliage, he started into the jungle. Afraid she would lose him if she hesitated too long, Lauren was on the verge of chasing after him when Ankari reappeared with two packs, the one Lauren had packed earlier for research and Ankari’s field pack. She hopped down and ran to Lauren.

“Here. My pack has food logs, clean water, and a first-aid kit in it. I’m sure we’ll catch right up with you, but...”

“I understand,” Lauren said, grabbing both and slinging the larger pack over her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Be careful!”

Lauren waved and ran after Heath, ignoring the pain in her hip. She tripped before she had gone ten steps, nearly pitching to the ground. She caught herself on a tree and hurried on while hoping that hadn’t been a sign, a reminder that she had no business out in the uncivilized wilderness.

• • • • •

Tick moved through the jungle as quickly as possible, slowing down only if Lauren fell behind, but that was rare. She pushed herself to keep up. To lighten her load, he’d taken the pack Ankari had given her, slinging it on his back. He should have thought to grab supplies of his own—and his combat armor. All he had was a laser rifle, a pistol, and his knife. They would have to be enough.

Fortunately, this part of the jungle had not seen many miners, loggers, or other visitors, and the undergrowth lay undisturbed, except by the light feet of animals. And by one set of heavy boot prints. Hemlock was carrying Keys, probably over his left shoulder, judging by the lopsided gait. Tick could follow the disturbed earth, smashed foliage, and broken twigs and branches without slowing down too much. That was good, because he could tell by the distance between Hemlock’s prints that he was running. Though the terrain was rough, he followed a relatively direct line, one that led to some meeting point, Tick was sure. The ship he had seen in Hemlock’s thoughts might already be on the ground and waiting for him.

Birds screeched in the treetops, disturbed by his and Lauren’s passage. Normally, Tick would worry about his prey hearing the noise and being alerted to his pursuit. This time, he doubted it mattered. For reasons he couldn’t guess at, Hemlock seemed to be getting a much larger dose of these mental powers than Tick. Or maybe he’d just been embracing them more, practicing to see what he could learn to do. That burst of wind he had hurled at Tick had been a hell of a lot more impressive than dice rolling around on the deck.

A monkey screeched from the vines of a nearby tree, and Lauren cursed.

Tick looked back in time to see her trip. He paused to see if she needed a hand, but she caught herself. She met his eyes and waved for him to continue on. Mud spattered her clothing, fresh scratches were carved into the back of her hand, and a contusion swelled at her temple. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, but the determination on her face did not suggest that she wanted that now. Perhaps never.