Chain Reaction

Chapter Eight

As much as Nils despised Marek, he had to admit his former colleague had shown ample intelligence when selecting a hideout. The small planet appeared thick with dense vegetation, huge stretches of land covered by tangles of jungle. Not all civilizations were visible from thousands of miles up, but he ran scan after scan and found scarcely any sign of sentient habitation. Aside from Marek, the only indications of culture came in the form of isolated encampments. Further scanning proved that the encampments consisted of a few primitive huts and nothing more.

He and Celene would have to avoid these settlements, in case any of the inhabitants had a connection to Marek and alerted him to their presence.

“We’re going to have to trek in to Marek’s compound,” he said as they approached the planet. “If we land too close, he’ll be able to detect us.”

“In all your training, you ever deal with bushcraft?”

“Some,” he admitted. “Mostly, I’ve read texts. You?”

“Used to go camping on my homeworld. But,” she added, “I haven’t been on my homeworld in decades.”

“The sightless piloting the sightless.”

He stared out the front window of the Phantom as Celene carefully guided the Phantom to a good landing site. As they drew closer to the surface, he noted the massive size of the trees, tall as buildings, with wide trunks and long, twisting branches. Seeing through the canopy to the ground below proved difficult, but he occasionally caught glimpses of forest floor bisected by green rivers. They were still too far up to get a sense of animal life, though bright-colored, avian-like creatures burst from the trees and wheeled in the sky as Celene located a clearing and began to lower the ship.

Despite the narrow confines of the clearing, she brought the Phantom down effortlessly. Not a single tree branch was disturbed or broken. He could see how easily legends about her formed. She did almost everything with faultless skill. Yet he possessed tangible proof that Celene wasn’t a legend, but a real woman of heart and flesh.

The increase of his heartbeat’s rhythm came not just from landing on an alien planet’s surface, but remembering what had transpired between him and Celene less than an hour ago. The honesty they had shared. The heat of their bodies. The brutal demand that transformed him completely. With just a few memories of her legs around his hips, his cock stirred, and his hunger returned on sharp claws. He’d been moments away from making love to her atop the galley table, and wanted to take her back there now.

He forced all of this away. Many geomiles of unexplored jungle stood between them and Marek, and when they did finally reach the traitor, they’d have to breach his security measures, destroy the plans for the Wraith disruption device, capture Marek, and find their way back.

The Phantom touched down. A gentle shake rocked the ship as it settled onto terra firma. Celene exhaled at the landing.

“Another perfect landing,” he said.

She grinned. “Next time, give me a challenge.”

He rubbed his hands on his thighs, drying his damp palms on the fabric of his uniform. “The challenge is already here.” He nodded out the window, and she followed his gaze.

At ground level, the jungle appeared even more treacherous. A naturalist might consider the profusion of gigantic plant life to be rich with potential, begging to be studied and catalogued. Yet he saw abundant danger. Carnivorous plants were well documented. Any of these massive plants could be waiting with maws filled with digestive enzymes. Surely with this plentiful flora, animals and insects teemed, and any of them could be fatal. Swamps, rivers, falls. Hostile natives. A thousand ways to die. Most of them unpleasant.

He was very far from Engineering.

Celene stood and shouldered her pack. “Ready?”

He got to his feet and slung his own pack onto his shoulders. “Of course.”

They stepped out of the Phantom and into a thick, green wilderness. Vines covered with luridly bright flowers snaked around the tree trunks, and plants with leaves as wide and broad as wasserboats drooped overhead. Outside of the ship, the sounds of the jungle came in a cacophony. Unknown animals cried out to one another, wings of large avian creatures flapped and the drones of insects came as loud as engines.

As Celene adjusted the straps of her pack, he saw a long-legged ruminant peering at them from the shelter of the underbrush. The animal had green fur, mottled like the forest floor, and a long, sinuous neck. It stared at the newcomers with six violet-black eyes. Nils knew better than to approach it, and was even more thankful for his caution when he saw the creature’s young poke its head out from between its parent’s legs.

The most dangerous animals were the ones with young. Even gentle beasts turned deadly if they sensed a threat to their babies.

He slanted a glance toward Celene. She was checking her weapons with a practiced eye, her motions quick and capable. No doubt in his mind that, of the two of them, she had far more experience in combat. Yet seeing her against the backdrop of the treacherous jungle, a primal need tore through him, far removed from the orderly world of the 8^th Wing and his Engineering lab.

Have to protect her.

The thought almost made him laugh aloud. If anyone was going to do the protecting, it would likely be her saving his ass. But this wasn’t about the responsibility of one soldier to look after another, or modding a pilot’s ship to ensure he or she fought well. This was about him and Celene, together.

The thought shook him, so much so that it took her saying his name three times before he answered.

“You with me?” she asked, a frown between her brows.

He drew a breath. “Every step.”

Together, they moved into the forest.

Dark green shade immediately covered them, but the air was no cooler. He felt as though he were swimming through the atmosphere, its damp heat pressing down like a hundred hands trying to shove him to the ground. Within minutes he’d soaked through his uniform.

“Marek’s compound is on the coast.” He checked the scanning device clipped to his pack. “Jungle on three of its sides, pounding surf on the other.”

“Distance?” She climbed carefully over a root as thick as a normal tree.

“Given the conditions, calculating our rate of speed, factoring in rest periods and this planet’s rate of revolution…” He ran the computation through his head. “We should reach him by midday tomorrow.”

A wry smile curved her mouth. “In the meantime we have all this natural beauty to entertain us.” She glanced up as a long yellow reptilian creature slid along a branch, sunlight reflecting off its jagged scales. It left a trail of glistening slime on the bough. As both Celene and Nils watched, the reptile struck out at a blue-furred mammalian animal perched on another branch. The mammal barely had time to squeak in alarm as poison-tipped fangs sank into its side. In a minute, the reptile had unhinged its jaw and was slowly digesting its prey.

Nils double-checked to be sure his blaster held a full charge and was easily accessible.

Silently, they pushed on deeper into the jungle. He felt torn between fascination with this alien place and a perpetual sense of wariness. As he and Celene trekked, they wordlessly pointed out to one another the continuously unfolding wonder of the rainforest. Incandescent flowers he could barely span with his outstretched arms. Creatures that appeared to be a cross between arachnids and feathered birds of prey. A herd of horselike animals. They watched him and Celene pass, their orange-and-pink hides twitching with caution. Clearly the beasts had had some interaction with humanoids, judging by the wide berth they gave Celene and Nils.

Celene took the lead, and his attention wavered between studying the exotic jungle and watching her smooth, economical movement. It might’ve been decades since she last ventured into the wilderness, but she moved with confidence, her gaze never resting, her body always primed for action. Despite the hazards of their surroundings, desire formed a steady second pulse beneath his heartbeat.

There were some cultures and planets that kept their females in perpetual servitude, helpless and dependent on males. The Devanians, for example, blinded females caught learning to read.

Fools.

There were murmurs that the Devanian women were plotting a coup to overthrow the oppressive regime. Already, 8^th Wing had committed several troop units to aid in the revolution, when it finally happened.

Several solar hours after Nils and Celene had commenced their trek, they stopped to rest and take refreshment. She sat down on a root, easing off the straps of her pack with a sigh.

He rummaged through his pack for their rations, and she groaned.

“When I was held captive, they fed me some kind of gruel that I’m fairly certain had viscera in it.” She eyed the sustenance-pak he held out to her with distaste. “That tasted better.”

He chuckled, thinking that even Stainless Jur had her limits. “A few of these plants bear fruit.”

He didn’t want to draw attention to their presence by firing his weapon, so he used a long stick to knock down a fleshy yellow pod the size of an infant. It landed with a muffled, heavy thump on the forest floor. After pulling on gloves, he took his sonic blade and cut the pod in half.

“Oh, Ten Hells,” Celene said, and gagged.

He reeled back, pushed away by the stench emanating from the fruit. “It’s like carrion, stagnant water and feet, all mixed together.”

“Maybe it tastes better than it smells.” She wiped at her watering eyes.

“Its juice is sizzling. I’d rather not take that chance.”

They edged away, finding a new place to rest that was not downwind. With little choice offered to them, he and Celene ate their rations, washing it all down with water treated by their solar hydroprocessor.

“Don’t think I’ll be collecting any samples on this planet,” she murmured between bites.

“With any luck, we won’t ever come here again.”

Both fell silent, and he had to wonder if her thoughts mirrored his. This harsh jungle might serve as their final resting place, even if they were successful in their mission. He didn’t want to entertain such thoughts. The idea of dying certainly held no appeal, but, as it did for all members of 8^th Wing, the prospect of death always hovered close. PRAXIS was a formidable enemy. The roster of the fallen grew longer and longer every solar year.

Yet he couldn’t stand the thought of Celene laid out in her ceremonial uniform, the honorary wreath of white pala blossoms draped around her neck. And that was for the lucky few. Most had no bodies left to be adorned and burned, effigies taking their place. Thinking of this filled him with fury and gutting sorrow.

Don’t smear ash on my arms just yet. We’re both still alive. We will survive this mission. He had to believe this.

He started when she nudged his shoulder with hers. “Marek is the one who should worry, not us.”

“How’d you know what I was thinking?”

“If a person’s expression could be flammable, this whole jungle would be blazing.”

He glanced down at his boots, digging trenches in the soft forest floor. “Not sure I’m suited for a life of combat.”

“I’ve got no complaints about your fighting capability. Hells, you’re as good as any of the Wraith Squad.”

Her praise created a small burst of light within him, like a star being born. Words were not enough, however. “How do you tolerate it? Seeing your squad mates fall?”

“Two choices: collapse, or keep going.” She gave a fatalistic shrug. “So we fly forward. There are too many battles to fight—and I don’t want to do PRAXIS’s work for them. The only way I stop fighting is if they shoot me out of the sky.”

Understanding was a bolt of ferrium along his spine, shoring him up. He refused to fail. For the 8^th Wing, for Celene. And for himself.

She saw the resolve in his gaze, and in response, her eyes shined deeply.

After finishing their meal, they continued on. The going was tough as they clambered over massive tree roots, forded swift rivers teeming with unknown life and edged carefully up and down steep ravines. He thanked the foresight that kept him consistently training on base. The bare minimum on base would’ve left him a liability now. Celene would have had to leave him behind, gasping and nursing a sprain or break. But he’d pushed himself then, and reaped the benefits now. Though it was hard to feel as though he’d emerged the victor, especially as he climbed, hand over hand, along a vine that dangled over a hundred meter-deep chasm.

His limbs ached with weariness and strain, and sweat coated his body. He wanted to pull off his boots and soak his throbbing feet in a basin of cool water. In his quarters on base, he’d rigged up a perfect iced-kahve brewing system and he thought of it with longing.

But when he scaled the side of a towering cliff and then caught Celene’s admiring gaze once he reached the top…energy surged through him. This dense jungle could go on for hundreds of thousands of geomiles, and it wouldn’t matter. Which was fortunate. It seemed that the jungle truly did stretch on for hundreds of thousands of geomiles.

They moved on further into the rainforest. As they entered a small glade pierced by sunlight, unease tightened along the back of his neck.

She must have felt a similar disquiet, for they both held still, heads tilted as they listened.

“Hear that?” she whispered.

“Complete silence.” None of the avian life squawked. The animals fell mute. Even the insects’ droning quieted.

Nils and Celene’s gazes met, pinned together by mutual understanding. Silence meant danger. Close by.

Her blaster found its way into her hand instantly. He also reached for his. As he did so, the underbrush exploded.

A massive animal leaped toward them. He had a fleeting impression of thickly muscled haunches, giant claws, and two snarling heads filled with black teeth. A huge canine-like beast, with a ruff of spikes surrounding each head, and more spikes on its lashing tail. It made a sound like a human scream, chilling his blood. But he couldn’t be frozen into inaction. The animal charged.

He and Celene leaped aside, narrowly missing the beast’s claws and double mouths. He rolled as the beast wheeled toward him to take another swipe. Ripples of air stirred as its claws struck out. He kept himself low, dodging the talons.

A plasma blast dug into the animal’s side. It snarled and spun around to face Celene, who stood with her plasma blaster aimed at the beast. She fired several more times at it, but its thick, leathery hide absorbed most of the impact, leaving only charred marks rather than deep wounds. Growling, the animal crouched, then bounded toward her.

She stood, caught between two huge tree roots too high to climb. There was nowhere for her to run. Instead of crumpling into a protective ball, she braced her legs wide and made ready to grapple with the beast.

Fierce warrior she might be, but Celene did not have claws or massive fangs. And her uniform provided minimal protection. She’d be ripped apart.

He acted without thought. He took off running after the creature, gaining momentum, and then, muscles coiling and releasing, jumped onto the animal’s back. He looped his arm around one of its necks, gripping his wrist with his other hand to lock himself tight.

The ruff of spikes tore through his uniform and pierced his skin. Bucking and writhing beneath him, the creature fought to shake him off. He wouldn’t let go. He tightened his hold on the neck, hoping it had a standard respiratory system that would suffer from having its air supply diminished.

Above the animal’s snarls, he heard Celene cursing. As he continued to press on the beast’s windpipe, he caught glimpses of her struggling to take aim with her blaster. Yet she didn’t fire.

“Take the shot,” he shouted. “Aim for one of the heads.”

“And maybe hit you? Pass!”

Yet if anyone could make a difficult shot, she would be the one. “Do it,” he yelled. “I trust you.”

As the beast grew weaker, its movements less powerful, Celene dropped to one knee. She braced her arm. Nils could sense her centering herself, drawing and holding a breath. And then she fired.

He didn’t wince. But the beast roared as plasma fire caught it just under one of its eyes. It gave its head a mighty shake, and his hold broke. He flew off the animal and landed with a thud in a stand of bracken. Celene appeared at his side immediately.

“Did I hit you?” she asked, pulling him up.

“Didn’t even damage my shave.” Though he tried to speak with bravado, his heart pounded and his head spun.

He and Celene watched as the beast staggered from the blast. It appeared stunned, wounded, but alive. For a moment, both heads stared at them balefully, though the head that had taken the plasma blast drooped lower. He tensed, and felt Celene do the same. Injured animals were almost as dangerous as those guarding their young.

After a few heartbeats, the creature let out twin howls, then loped off back into the underbrush.

He and Celene stood motionless, waiting. Neither of them spoke or moved. Not until the sounds of the jungle resumed, replacing eerie silence with welcome clamor. Slowly, he lowered himself back onto the ground, his legs stretching out in front of him. He let out a long breath.

She dropped down beside him, muttering more curses. Some of them were words he’d only heard Ensign Skiren use, colorful remnants of her life as a smuggler. But now the celebrated Lieutenant Celene Jur swore like the worst Smoke Quadrant pirate, and her face was ashen.

“Thanks,” he managed, then winced when she landed a hard punch to his arm.

“You fucking dwaas,” she snarled. “Playing the damned hero like some lunc for brains.”

Nils did not know for certain what a lunc was, but he doubted the comparison was flattering. “You’d prefer I cower in the shadows while that thing turned you into its nightmeal?”

“I could have handled it,” she shot back.

He raised a brow. “At what point? When it had you cornered and your blaster fire bounced off its hide?”

She unleashed another barrage of cursing before subsiding into tense silence. At last, she said, “You worried the hells out of me.”

“Same here. But we survived.” In truth, he felt extremely close to tearing up several of the gigantic trees with his bare hands, having seen her face down a mortal threat. Yet he forced himself to take comfort in his own words. They both lived. Even that animal, whatever it was, survived to hunt another day.

“Next time that thing sees some humanoid prey,” she said with a tiny smile, “it’ll probably reconsider.”

“Today’s been educational for everyone.” He glanced down at himself. “I’ve learned that the spines on that animal can go right through fabric and into flesh.”

Hissing in alarm, she pulled the medi-kit from her pack. She crouched beside him and carefully peeled back his uniform, exposing his lacerated skin.

“Any numbness, any tingling, dizziness or shortness of breath?” She dabbed heal salve on the wounds, a frown of worry creasing her forehead. “The spines could have had venom on them.”

He tested his hands and feet, then focused on a large, translucent flower quivering on a nearby fallen tree. “No double vision. Limbs seem to be working fine.”

She pressed a metal vial into his hand. “Drink that. It contains a universal antidote.”

“Only for things 8^th Wing has already encountered.”

Her hard stare showed that she wouldn’t allow him to argue. Given that the antidote couldn’t actively hurt him, he swallowed it, then allowed himself the momentary pleasure of watching her fuss over him. All 8^th Wing members had to learn some field doctoring, but her movements were deft, experienced.

“You’ve done this before,” he noted as she wrapped synth bandages around his torso. As soon as she finished securing them, the bandages formed an impenetrable seal, keeping dirt and microbes out of his wounds. They could only be removed by application of a subsonic frequency, ensuring that injuries had long-lasting, sterile environments.

“A time or two,” she agreed. “Remind me to show you the scar on my thigh. Doctored that wound myself.”

While he didn’t relish the thought of her being hurt, his mind snagged on the image of her thigh, muscled and golden.

“I’d very much like to see that.”

His husky words actually coaxed a blush in her cheeks. “Should have gone easy on the heal salve,” she murmured. “That way you could have a few sexy scars to show the women on base.”

“I don’t want any of them to see my scars,” he said quietly. “Only you.”

She looked up from her work, her silver eyes wide. For a moment, he regretted his words. They revealed too much, left him open to potential ridicule or hurt. He debated whether or not to retract them, mutter something about a joke, or being light-headed from blood loss. But, hells, he had just wrestled with an enormous two-headed canine. He didn’t need to retreat. Not with Celene. She’d been unflinchingly honest with him. He could do the same.

Finally, after many long moments of silence during which Nils died and returned to life several times, she gave him a soft, unhurried smile. “We can compare scars.”