Guardian Awakening (6 page)

They started for the car park. Aesia, satisfied with how the day had gone, found it an effort not to skip back to the car. She had deliberately been pleasant to him all day, although he sometimes became far too familiar. Still, she had made sure the clothes she had chosen showed off her figure. She had even moved close to him at times and allowed eye contact. She turned and smiled at Tristan, confident her brilliant plan to control him would soon be complete.

As they walked back to the car, Tristan stopped to tie one of his laces. After ensuring both laces were tight, Tristan looked up and sighed; she had continued walking and had drawn level with a group of youths hanging around outside a small fish and chip shop. One of the youths whistled and gestured at her. A normal person would have walked on by, ignoring them. Aesia stopped and turned towards the speaker clenching her fists.
 

“Oh for God’s sake!” Tristan started to run to her but too late, she lashed out. The youth never had a chance; he was flat on his back. The group stood stunned for a moment, looking from the slim girl to the winded lout on the pavement.

Tristan skidded to a halt beside Aesia as, shouting obscenities, the youths threw themselves at them. A flash of silver and Tristan felt his heart miss a beat; they had knives! No longer a brawl; they were fighting for their lives.
 

Tristan sidestepped as two of them lunged at him simultaneously. He dropped slightly and with a swinging kick, sent one of them flying. The other twisted away then swung forward. Tristan caught his wrist, avoiding the lunging blade and twisted; he felt the snap as his opponent screamed, his shoulder dislocated.
 

He stood to the left and behind Aesia. He glanced round as one burly youth made a lunge at her back with a knife, as she dealt with another. Tristan, wrong footed had no option but to throw himself forward. He felt burning pain in his right side as he jabbed the youth with a chop across his neck. The youth gasped and coughed. The ones left standing turned and ran.
 

“You all right, mate?”

A large fat man in a greasy apron stood at the door of the Chippy.

Tristan nodded. “Yes, OK.”

“They’re nothin’ but a bloody nuance them kids hanging round ‘ere all the time, ‘bout time someone saw ‘em off. Your girlfriend here can sure move fast.” He smiled. “Thanks by the way. I’ll phone the cops; they can deal with them. Better get along.” He turned back to his shop.
 

Tristan reached down and pulled the knife out. He gritted his teeth against the fire in his side; he did not want to show he had been injured.

Aesia stood looking up the street at the backs of the fleeing youths breathing hard. She turned to finish off the remaining ones groaning in the gutter.

Tristan realised what she intended to do and grabbed her hand. As she tried to pull away from his grasp, he shouted at her. “Come on, leave them, we must run before the police arrive.”
 

She hesitated for a moment. Tristan didn’t want to get involved with the police. Aesia would be found out, and what might happen then did not need much thinking about.
 

Tristan gripped her hand tighter and dragged her with him. “Run!” They ran hand in hand up the steps to the Land Rover. He pulled out his parking ticket and his key as he ran.

They leapt in and Tristan started the engine while hastily fastening his seat belt. He drove for the car park exit, paying the fee at the barrier. As they drove past the area of the fight Tristan noticed a small crowd gathering around the fallen yobs.
 

He drove straight back to his cottage. His shirt was clinging to his side, warm dampness soaking into his trousers. As he turned off the main road, the burning in his side had reduced to a dull ache. He took a couple of large gulps of cool evening air and shook his head to clear it.
 

The journey had passed in silence until Aesia turned to him and apologised. “I’m sorry, I should have ignored them and walked by, but one was rude and I could not let it go unpunished. I know I risked being discovered. Thank you for helping me; a normal slave would have stood by and watched.”
 

Tristan was going to accept the apology gracefully; however, her last few words caused him to grip the steering wheel tightly his knuckles showing white. “I’m not your bloody slave!” he snapped at her. “And it was stupid of you; the police would not have been long arriving, and they would soon find you were not human. This planet is a dangerous place for you, as most people believe we are alone in the universe. An alien would cause panic, and I don’t know what they would do to you if you were discovered. You have to be more careful and hold your bloody temper!”

He saw her face flush, sensed her rising anger. “He said…”
 

“I don’t give a toss what he said!” Tristan interrupted. His head was swimming now from loss of blood.

Aesia turned to him. “There is no need for rudeness,” she hissed as they pulled up outside his cottage. Tristan opened the door and twisted in the seat. Pain racked him, and when his feet touched the ground he had no strength in his legs. The last thing he remembered was hitting his head on the edge of the open Land Rover door.

Aesia gasped. “What’s wrong?” The translator seemed to take an age preparing the words for her. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her seat belt.

She opened the door, swung her legs round and slid from the seat. She stumbled in haste as she ran round the front of the vehicle to Tristan. He was laying face down on the drive. Aesia bent down and noticed the blood. She had not seen the injury during the drive back because the wound had been on the side facing away from her. She frowned as she shook his limp body.
 

“Wake up, come on, you have to wake up.”
 

Tristan groaned. Aesia pulled him to his feet and helped him stand. She felt hard muscle under his shirt.
He is heavy!

She guided him to his door and waited while he fumbled with the keys. He started to sway. She snatched the keys from his grasp and unlocked the door herself. She half carried half pushed him to his settee, and he collapsed onto it.
 

Aesia tore his blood-covered shirt. She examined the wound in his side. It was a clean cut, but blood covered her fingers. She felt fear rise, almost choking her; as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. She did not know enough of this world to survive for long on her own, and it was a more dangerous place than she had envisaged.
 

She had not noticed anything in the house that resembled a medical kit. There was only one thing she could think of, the med kit in her fighter.
 

Grabbing the spacecraft’s key, she stood and ran out the door and up the slope to her ship. She fumbled with the lock for a moment and opened the canopy. She reached in and grabbed her emergency med kit.
I have to take a chance
. If he were too different in physiology then the kit would kill him, but doing nothing was not an option; he was likely to die anyway. It was her fault he was injured. If it had not been for her arrogance, they could have just walked by the youths, and nothing would have happened. As it was, he was forced to help her or she would have been the one lying in a pool of blood.

She ran back with the kit. It contained a wound sealant and a synthetic blood replacement. She knew it had been designed to cover all blood types, so she hoped it would not poison him. She quickly cleaned the wound with the kit’s antiseptic and then used the sealant to bind the cut together. She hoped that no vital organs were damaged. On inspection, it seemed to be just a deep flesh wound, cutting only the muscle of his side. Luckily, the blade had been deflected by his lower rib, protecting him from a deeper and maybe fatal injury.

Now for the replacement blood. She hesitated. What if it were incompatible… She glanced at his face, pale in the artificial light. She had no choice, she pulled the trigger. The artificial chemical blood flowed into his body. Tristan groaned. She could do nothing more except to wait the outcome. She sat with him for a while; his breathing was shallow, but it did seem as though he was stabilising.

Please don’t die, not for something as stupid as this.
After a while, she fell asleep in the chair.
 

She woke at first light, stiff from sleeping in such a cramped position. She yawned and stretched to try to reduce the stiffness in her back and legs. Several moments passed before she remembered where she was. She glanced across to Tristan. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so she stood up, and walked over to the settee where he lay. She knelt down and carefully inspected his wound. The sealant had closed the cut with no sign of rejection. She sighed, stood, and studied his face. Of all the alien races she had dealings with, his was the closest to looking like her race. If it were not for his ears and eyes, he could almost pass for one of her kind.

Still, she must not forget; all alien races were destined to be slaves for her people. That was the way things had always been and that was the way they would stay. She sighed and went to Tristan’s kitchen to prepare herself some breakfast. While she worked, she thought over the day before.

She had obtained all the information she needed. The others of his race had no telepathic ability, which was strange as he seemed at times to be far stronger than her. Their shops were full of goods. Their cities had bustling centres and there were even bigger cities than the one they had visited, Tristan had quite happily told her.
What an idiot,
she thought. These people would make excellent, strong slaves, and their planet seemed to have abundant resources. She would be given a command of her own frigate for bringing this world into the empire.

A groan from the other room interrupted her thoughts. She walked back into the lounge; he seemed to sense her presence as she approached. He opened his strange eyes and looked at her.
 

“Where am I?” she heard her translator say.

“You are in your lounge, safe. Would you like something to eat and drink?” she asked.
 

Tristan nodded. She laid a hand on his forehead.

“No fever. You were lucky, it seems that our physiology is similar or you would be dead.”

“Why?”

“I used the chemicals in my ships med kit to heal you.”

Tristan nodded. “Oh.”

He tried to sit up, but Aesia pushed him back down. “Stay there! You’re not strong enough to move yet.”

She got him some food and drink from the kitchen. She returned, lifted his head, and let him drink. “It will be couple of days at least before you will be strong enough to get up and help yourself.” Aesia sighed. Only slaves nursed slaves. She shrugged, but with no one else available, so she had no choice.

On the morning of the third day he wanted to get up, telling her he was feeling a lot better.

“All right, but please be careful, you don’t want the wound to open up again.”
 

“I will take it easy,” he assured her. “Thank you for helping me.”

Her face flushed. She turned away to hide her discomfort. “I did it for myself as much as anything. I don’t know the workings of this world to survive long on my own.”
What did I say that for? Admitting weakness!
She swallowed. “I have a ship to repair, I’m wasting time here!” she said, snapping the words out, trying rectify her earlier error.
Then with a loud sniff she turned and walked out the front door closing it with a slam.

Tristan blinked gazing after her. “Damn! I only said thank you, touchy bitch.”

Chapter Five: The Enemy

The next day Tristan woke early. The sun streaming in through the partly closed curtains left bright patches on the opposite wall. He lay still, the faint whispering in his mind when Aesia was near had stopped. So she must be working on her ship. He checked the wound in his side and it had almost completely healed.
 

He swung his legs round and stood up; the expected nausea did not happen. He rubbed the side of his forehead, noting that he hadn’t suffered any pain or headaches since she had arrived either. He took a few tentative steps before he had to grip a chair for support. He sighed; he needed some breakfast and a cup of tea. He released his grip on the chair and walked through. The kitchen was neat and tidy. He checked the cupboards and found everything in its place. “Well she has been busy!” He made himself a small bowl of cereals and sat down. After breakfast, he showered and changed.
 

He felt good; Aesia and her Med Kit had done an excellent job.
 

He sat for a while to rest before walking out of the house and up the hill. As he got closer the faint touch of Aesia’s thoughts grew stronger. The presence of the ship’s computer caused a different type of sensation, a feeling of latent power. He had learnt to block her small personal computer quite quickly. It had made conversation difficult as he could “hear” it translating for her. He knew what she would say before she said it, so her speech was like an echo of the machine.
 

He tried to sort and order the sensations pressing in on his consciousness. He found he could separate the cold emotionless machine from the faint flow and ebb of emotions coming from the busy alien easily. The few days spent recovering had not been wasted.

Aesia had a panel off the side of the ship just forward of the cockpit. There were some parts on the ground beside her. She seemed to be replacing faulty circuits.
 

Tristan sensed a change when she became aware of his approach. A momentary feeling of pleasure or satisfaction was quickly replaced by irritation. He wondered if his presence or the ship had caused it. He smiled.

“Hello. Are you busy?” He cursed himself for such a lame question.
 

Instead of the expected cutting reply to his stupid question she nodded. “Yes, I’m trying to fix the communicator. This thing will never fly again so my only hope is a rescue.”