Invasion Earth (13 page)

Well. Life was a bitch. And then you died.
Unless you were better armed and trained or sometimes just plain
luckier than your enemy. As soon as her fingers closed over the
weapon, she felt ten times better, felt her old confident,
controlled and capable self. She dragged in a long breath of relief
and homecoming. It was good to return to a role she knew and
understood. She grinned and watched her future husband and
brother-in-law shrink back a little. They’d better get used to it.
She wasn’t going unarmed again.

Gripping the butt of the pistol in one hand,
she pushed herself up off the ground with the other so that she was
squatting, sitting on her heels with her back braced against the
shuttle. Their side of the valley had gone silent, but there was
still gunfire in the distance. She cocked her head to one side.

“That’s not ours.”

She sat between Alrik and Daggar and felt
their scowls on her face without having to focus on them. Must be
getting used to them
.

“Listen. Those
aren’t
Earth weapons.
They’re Delroi.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Daggar replied.

She tried to describe the difference. “Your
automatic fire is faster and after a burst there’s a kind of
hissing sound. Those aren’t Alliance guns.”

Gazes intent, they both turned towards the
direction of the other firefight and listened. Alrik reached over,
ran his fingers up the inside of her arm. She shivered at his
touch, but when she shifted to snap at him she noticed the look of
concentration on his face and bit her tongue. He nodded.

“She’s right. I never noticed before.”

She grinned, her mood suddenly buoyant. She’d
relish a good fight and who better to provide it for her than the
Delroi who’d put her in this position in the first place? The only
thing that marred her good humor was the men at her side. Alrik
wore a scowling, thoughtful expression and Daggar’s face had gone
darkly fierce, his countenance like a black thundercloud. Their
expressions seemed too severe a reaction to a little firefight. She
frowned. Such downers the both of them.

“What?”

Daggar gave her look full of
is this woman
dim or just crazy?
“
My own people
are firing at us.”

She widened her eyes and feigned a look of
surprise. “Wow. Really? That would mean this peace isn’t as welcome
by your side as much as you’d like us to believe, wouldn’t it?”

Daggar opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but
Alrik interrupted. “We don’t have time for this. Listen. Movement
in the hills around us.”

Daggar snapped his mouth shut and she
strained her ears to listen for what Alrik heard. There wasn’t
much. Whoever the unseen enemy were, they were good. There was a
soft grunt, an occasional shifting of sand that was too measured to
be natural.

“How many?” she murmured, guessing by the
calculating look on Alrik’s face he had a much better estimate than
she. He shook his head slightly.

“Fifteen? No way to know for sure.”

“They’re as good as my scouts, whoever they
are.”

“From the Southern tribes probably.” He
exchanged a look with Daggar. “Don’t even entertain the thought,
brother.”

She hated being left out. “What? What
thought?”

“Barak is from the Southern tribes,” Alrik
answered. She got the impression he did so without considering who
it was he spoke to. The statement seemed full of meaning she didn’t
have the knowledge to translate and she found she had to force
herself to concentrate—Alrik was still touching her. Light,
feathery strokes that made it increasingly difficult to focus. She
tried to pull away, but he just grabbed her hand and laced his
fingers through hers.

“Barak? Isn’t he the guy with the tattoos on
his face?”

“Yes. My spymaster.”

“Ah. And are you sure he’s on our side?”

Alrik looked down at her, even in a crouch he
towered over her, and smiled. “Have you decided
you’re
on
our side? One of us?”

His words froze her for a moment, but then
her stomach spasmed and she pulled her hand free to lay a palm flat
over her belly. Earlier words came back to her, a previous
suggestion, and she knew with the same certainty that had led her
to victory in many battles that he was right.

She was pregnant.

She closed her eyes. Would she ever be
allowed to raise an alien child on Earth? She didn’t think so;
she’d be forced into hiding. Peace was one thing, but
fraternization with the enemy by someone of her rank—literally
sleeping with the enemy—was something else entirely. If she wanted
her child to live, she would have to choose a side and the choice
was obvious. Alrik was more powerful among his people that she was
with hers. Opening her eyes, she followed his gaze. He’d noted her
reaction, saw her hand still pressed over her stomach in that
age-old protective instinct, and covered it with his.

“I
am
with you. But you should not
view that as some kind of capitulation. I cannot change what I
am.”

“Will not,” Daggar muttered but Alrik smiled
again. The heat that burned between them was back in his eyes and
something else. Some of that emotion she’d seen him so desperately
trying to deny earlier. He removed the hand covering hers and
lifted her hand from her stomach to his mouth, pressing a kiss on
her palm.

“I’m beginning to understand that’s not at
all what I want,” he said softly.

She didn’t think she believed him, but her
voice failed her. Her belly somersaulted and she squeezed her eyes
shut. It was impossible to deny the heat coursing through her, but
she had to find a way to delay it, confine it. It was not the time.
Not the place. She opened her eyes and forced her voice to be
brisk.

“So what of Barak?” She asked the question of
Daggar instead of Alrik. He’d already proven he’d defend his
spymaster no matter the circumstances. It had nothing to do with
the carnal look she knew still lingered in his eyes. She cringed
inwardly at the denial. Yeah right.

Daggar, obviously unaware of her internal
debate, gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ve no reason to
distrust Barak. He’s served us well.”

“But?”

“The tribes of the Southern Ranges have
always been ... unpredictable. Independent and headstrong. They do
not accept the leadership of others easily.”

She narrowed her eyes. There was a story here
that was not forthcoming. “And how long have they been forced to
accept yours?”

Alrik laughed, a short barking sound.
“Generations. Our great-great-grandfather formed the council with
the healers and artists. Then he took control of all the warrior
tribes. The fight for the South was predictably bloody.”

The three warriors with them drew close
enough to hear.

“It is not the peace or our reason for being
here that they object to, Laney,” Daggar said softly. “It is the
rule of the Torfa family. Our family. My rule. They would undermine
it where they could. If Alrik and I died, there would be no heir
and, a foolish bloodthirsty rush to seize the office of
Overchief.”

But there was an heir. She was certain of it.
And the fact that she carried the Torfa heir made the situation all
the more dangerous and success imperative. If something—God
forbid—were to happen to Alrik and Daggar what would become of her
and her child? She would find no succor on Earth. She looked around
and met the gazes of the warriors with them. The proud stern-faced
men she’d seen so often in the past few days but couldn’t name.

There was a difference between picking a side
and
taking
a side she realized. She looked at Daggar and
then Alrik.

“But there is an heir. The question is: Who
will protect him if something happens to his father and uncle?”

She knew what she was soliciting and looked
to the warrior, the one who’d been with her most the past few days,
who seemed to be most senior. Was she asking too much? He banged
one fist over his heart and bowed his head briefly.

“As long as a Torfa heir lives, we will
protect him, my lady.”

“And if it’s a girl?”

He smiled. “She will be doubly protected,
Lady Torfa.”

“Jaxon is one of my captains that has a
der’lan
.” Alrik’s amusement was obvious. “And one of the few
who has a daughter.”

She smiled with her own rare sense of mirth.
“I doubt any daughter of mine will ever need much protecting.”

Jaxon snorted and she was pleased to see the
suspicion she’d once seen in his eyes had been replaced by
something that was almost respect. “Perhaps not, but she will have
it regardless.”

“Very well, then.” She turned her gaze to the
area beyond this small group of men and her mind to getting them
free. She directed her question at Alrik. “Fifteen you think?”

“Or thereabouts. What are you thinking?”

She shrugged. “I’m thinking we concentrate
enough fire on one end here to allow a sniper to escape on the
back.”

Alrik and Daggar turned on her at once, eyes
narrowed and cold.

“And who would you suggest for that job?”
Alrik asked.

She shrugged. Grinned. “Well, I was a sniper
before I got promoted to such a lofty position I don’t actually
work anymore.”

“No,” came a chorus of responses and she
laughed, feeling better than she’d felt in days.

“I’m smaller and faster and probably a better
shot than all of you.”

“My lady,” Jaxon said. “You carry the heir of
Torfa.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “So? I have as much
interest in my survival as you do.”

“No Laney,” Alrik said. “You know we won’t
take that risk.”

“Oh, please. I’m our best shot!”

He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a
gentle shake. “I will not risk our child. You shouldn’t
either.”

She blinked. Damn. She’d been thinking about
being pregnant, but not how her actions could put the baby at risk.
Would she have to factor that into every move she made in the
future? Maybe, but it didn’t change anything now. She shook her
head.

“Still has to be done, honey,” she murmured
so softly she doubted anyone heard.

“Not by you,” he answered just as softly.

So Alrik heard at least. She looked around
the small group, hoping her eyes were cold and determined enough to
convince them. She couldn’t explain why, but knew it had to be her
that went. Maybe there was one way. Her gaze rested on Jaxon.

“What do your people call me?”

He blinked, surprised at the question.

“Come on, Jaxon. What do y’all call me?”

“The Butcher of Roses,” he answered softly
clearly reluctant.

“And am I hated for Roses?”

Alrik had been busy avoiding looking at her,
but jerked his head up at the question. “Laney, don’t,” he
warned.

Her smile was probably sad. The course seemed
clear to her, but though they may eventually agree they’d never
approve.

“The way I see it, you have several
problems.” She ticked them off on her fingers as she continued.
“The discontent among your people. Among mine. The reality of who I
am. Not only as someone feared and hated by your people, but the
kind of woman I am. I will never be weak and docile and
submissive.”

He started to respond, but she held her hand
up to forestall him.

“Something else to consider. The
appearance
of weakness. If you insist on protecting me, if
you insist on preventing me from acting to protect myself and mine,
you make me look weaker to your enemies and that’s deadly for all
of us.”

She paused for a deep breath and tried to
order her thoughts, but in the end it was unnecessary. Daggar spoke
before she got the chance.

“She’s right.” Alrik glared at them both, but
his brother continued softly with an edge of steel underlying his
voice. He met everyone’s gaze in turn as he did, finally stopping
and staying on her. It was clear this was the Overchief speaking.
Not Alrik’s brother. Not her soon to be brother-in-law. She felt a
tremor that had nothing to do with Alrik hovering next to her.
Daggar would make a formidable foe.
And an equally valuable
friend
, the strategist within her that evaluated chances
whispered. The more so if he was willing to use whatever resources
were at his disposal despite it going so far against the grain, so
opposed to his instinctive need to protect women. She saw that and
so much more in his gaze. Suddenly understood exactly why he was
Overchief and how he held it. “She
is
the Butcher of Roses.
Do any of us really believe she can’t do this thing?”

Silence fell over the group and she turned to
Alrik. “I can do this. I best of all of us here.”

Eventually he nodded and she saw
comprehension light his eyes as he finally understood
why
she had to do this. For so many reasons. Because it was who she
was. To prove to him, to them, that she could and that she’d taken
their side. To demonstrate that to all of their enemies, be they
from Delroi or Earth. And to show everyone her change in social
status and marital state hadn’t altered her. She’d defend herself
and those she loved against all comers. She would not be a victim.
She hadn’t been weakened. She glanced at Alrik. Perhaps she’d even
been strengthened. He didn’t give her the chance to say anything
else, pulling her into his arms for a kiss that curled her
toes.

Chapter Eleven

Things got off to a good start, but she
should have known better than to hope that would last. The shuttle
pilot was exceptional. Alrik was right about that. He’d landed in a
long narrow space with mere feet to spare on each side of the long
craft. He’d also positioned it so that the back would have scraped
the rocky incline behind it had he been off only a few inches. A
very narrow space existed there, barely wide enough for a small
thin woman to squeeze through. By landing in such a way, he’d
ensured there was a reasonably big clearing at the head of the
shuttle.