Mating Urge
By
Shay Lacy
© copyright by Shay Lacy, November 2008
Published by New Concepts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
Cover art by Eliza Black, November 2008
ISBN 978-1-60394-244-7
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
Proximity warning claxons shattered the silence in the space shuttle. Navigation Officer Selandra responded by quickly tapping pads on the Nav console with both hands.
"Sir, a ship just appeared in sensor range," she reported over her shoulder, her tone sharp with urgency.
"Identification?" From the co-pilot's seat to her right, Denali scanned his instruments and the viewscreen. Ships were rare on this frontier of space. Had the activity of the Panesh ship dropping off their passengers attracted unwanted attention to the shuttle? His muscles tensed as his fingers touched controls on the panel in front of him.
"Too far away yet." She spoke crisply while performing her Nav duties.
"Let me know as soon as you identify it."
Two minutes later, Selandra hissed at him, "Malchovists! They're closing fast!"
Shock rocketed through him, and he stiffened. Anger and hatred followed quickly, spurting fire into his veins. Malchovists were the Felisians' mortal enemies and the foes of every other species in Unified Sentient Planets, or USP. They were indiscriminant killers who raided unprotected colonies, as they'd done to the Felisians' own colony, Felis II, in its infancy.
"Wake Beratim!" he ordered Selandra, while he disengaged the piloting from the computer. He was a communications officer, not a pilot. He knew how to operate the shuttle, but in a fight or flight situation, he knew to delegate to the person with the most skill. Selandra sprinted toward the back of the shuttle, her long bronze mane flying out behind her.
Normally Felisians would fight Malchovists fiercely, but their shuttle was no match for a spaceship in maneuverability, speed or weaponry. Besides, they had their Bonwee passenger on board ....
His mind froze in horror for a second, skittering to a stop at the thought of petite Mala Avonee, captured by the Malchovists. Because of the Bonwee species' capacity for languages, two other Bonwees had been captured in the past and both had been horribly abused. The Malchovists would systematically torture, rape and starve her until they got whatever compliance or information they wanted out of her. The rest of those on board the shuttle would die, but she would be mistreated until she wished for death. No! Denali wouldn't let that happen; he would rather kill her himself than allow her to suffer at their hands.
At the sound of bare feet slapping a staccato on the decking, Denali glanced around. The shuttle pilot, Beratim, a young man of nineteen, dashed from the sleeping berths, still in his black military issue pajamas. He'd cut the top of his mane short, but let the rest hang to his shoulder blades.
Denali moved over to the Com station. As his two officers strapped on their harnesses, he turned back to the passenger section where Mala sat with her large Grimari bodyguard, Tarana.
"Belt in. We've got company. Malchovists!" He had no time to think in Basic, the language of USP, so Mala would have to translate to Tarana. He knew Mala understood the peril when he saw her face pale. He put on his harness and his earpiece and spoke into the Com, trying to remain calm, even as his heart raced. Their space ship was six minutes away for messages, even longer than that for anything more. He squelched that thought.
"This is BQN2 shuttle. We have Malchovists in this sector. We're being pursued and are beginning evasive maneuvers. Do you copy BQN-3210?"
This wasn't supposed to happen. Their voyage was a routine passenger transport, a favor for USP. Pick up Mala and Tarana from the Panesh and deliver them to the planet Felis II to await the next transport to the USP interior two weeks hence. "An uneventful trip" was how Captain SoAhnor had described Denali's first command assignment. It might turn into a ride through an exploding nova instead.
While he waited for what now seemed an interminable lag time, he turned toward Beratim and Selandra. He was in charge of this mission, so he'd do the best he could. "Any success at evading them, Beratim?"
"No sir, but I'm trying." The young man's voice quavered slightly.
"Status, Selandra?" Denali asked.
"They're almost within firing range--for both of us."
"Fire only if you can hit something. Look for a planet or moon to hide behind."
"Yes, sir."
A minute later the first hit rocked the shuttle and threw him forward against his harness. The lights flickered. A second, smaller jostling indicated Selandra had returned fire with the laser weaponry on board.
"Status reports?" Denali barked.
"They hit one of our engines!" Beratim exclaimed, his voice going high with anxiety. "I've lost some maneuverability and a lot of speed."
"They're trying to disable us," Selandra cried.
"We fight to the death if we can't get away. Agreed?" Denali demanded.
"Agreed!" Selandra snarled. She was almost his age, old enough for the attacks on the Felis II colony to have been told to her as an impressionable child.
"Agreed," Beratim said, less vehemently. He didn't have the proximity to the past that Denali and Selandra had, but he was Felisian, and the Malchovists were his enemy.
Denali turned to Mala and Tarana. Tarana's black eyes were alert and she had a laser weapon in her big hands already. Mala was very pale, making her green eyes appear huge in her face. He took a deep breath and schooled himself to speak in Basic to Tarana as he addressed her directly. He wasn't fluent enough to speak it naturally under stress, and she didn't speak the Felisian language like Mala did.
"The Malchovists want to disable the shuttle so they can board. We will try to get away. We will fight if we have to, but if they board and we lose the fight, you must kill Mala. If something happens to you, I will kill her. Do you understand?" It was imperative that Tarana understand. Mala could not risk capture.
"I understand. I will not let Mala be taken!" Tarana's face was fierce, skin dark and taut with menace. Her species were the fiercest warriors in USP.
"Tara," Mala protested, but Tarana began speaking rapidly in what Denali had come to recognize was the Grimari language, all gutturals and harshness.
He turned back to the Com as the return message came in from their ship. "Shuttle, this is BQN-3210. We're coming! What's your position shuttle?" First Com's voice held more than a note of anxiety.
"Selandra, where are we now?" Denali asked.
As Selandra began to yell coordinates, another blast hit the Nav side of the ship. The Nav station exploded in a shower of sparks that threw her backward to the floor. Denali stared in horror at the bloody mess that had been his friend and knew that she was dead. He looked up to find Beratim gaping at Selandra's body. Tears rolled down the young man's cheeks.
"Veer away, Beratim!" Denali snapped at the pilot out of his shock.
"Yes, sir." Beratim turned back to his controls.
Denali spoke rapidly into the Com. "This is BQN2 shuttle. We're hit! One engine is disabled. Nav is destroyed. Selandra is dead. Last known position was 24.352 by 16.481. We've now veered off course. We'll hide if we can; otherwise we'll turn and fight. The Bonwee will not be captured. Hurry!"
Denali slipped off his earpiece and harness and moved to the co-pilot's seat. "How are you doing, Beratim?"
He tried to project a calm he didn't feel. His heart slammed against his chest with the knowledge that the final minutes of his life were ticking away too fast. He hadn't even had a chance to tell Mala the startling thoughts he'd had about her since she'd boarded--thoughts of an impossible interspecies relationship, even a mate bond. How could he have found his permanent mate--someone not even Felisian--only to lose her? They hadn't had a chance at all. He fought off blind panic.
Beratim talked too rapidly with a voice gone high with panic. "It's hard to maneuver and it's slow moving."
"Can you turn enough to make a direct hit when we fire?"
"I think so. Sir, I wanted to live a little longer than this!" It was a wail from the heart that Denali echoed.
"So did I. So let's do what we can to take these blasted Malchovists with us."
"Yes, sir!"
The shuttle turned ponderously and the Malchovists' ship came into view to fill the viewscreen. "You know the weak spots, Beratim?"
"Yes, sir. I learned them in pilot's training."
"I'll hold the shuttle steady and you fire, all right?"
"Yes, sir." Beratim fired, but nothing happened.
Denali frowned over the instruments. Were they damaged? "Did you miss?"
"No, sir. I don't know what happened. I'll try again."
Beratim fired again and suddenly the Malchovist ship exploded like a sun going nova. Denali threw his arm over his eyes to lessen the brightness of the explosion, while with the other hand he tried desperately to turn the shuttle away from the direction of the blast. Beratim helped with the struggle, but the shuttle was showered with debris, from small particles to massive chunks of hull. The thumps on the hull rattled Denali's brain with percussive shock waves. The shuttle was rocked over and over and pushed along increasingly fast and out of control in the wake of the explosion.
There was a massive thump, then they lost power and the emergency lights came on. Oxygen masks dropped and Denali and Beratim donned theirs. Denali glanced back to see Mala and Tarana had donned their masks as well.
"Shuttle, do you read? Shuttle, this is BQN-3210 responding to your distress call. What's your status?" There was panic in First Com's voice as he called the shuttle. Denali could feel a corresponding panic that increased as internal gravity in the shuttle was lost. His stomach roiled.
"I have to go to Com," he told Beratim. "Can you handle piloting for a few minutes?"
"Yes sir. Nothing to do right now, but go where we're being pushed."
Denali unharnessed and floated out of his seat, swimming in the zero gravity towards the Com station. He finally grabbed the back of the Com seat and brought his body close to the communicator. He took a quick breath from the oxygen mask over the Com.
"BQN-3210, life support is lost. Gravity is lost ..." he gasped with his oxygen mask off.
At that moment a huge thump started the shuttle rolling violently and he was thrown headfirst into the Com station. His face exploded with pain. He pushed back from the controls and brought his free hand up to find blood running freely from his nose. Scarlet drops floated in the air around him.
"Sir! Denali, are you all right?"
"I think my nose is broken, but I'm all right." The rolling motion made him feel ill with his face hurting this way. He covered his face with the oxygen mask while he tried to work the Com, but it no longer functioned. "Blast! The Com's dead."
He pushed away from the Com station and tried to keep Beratim in focus as he floated to the co-pilot's seat. The tumbling of the shuttle was severely disorienting. Beratim caught his arm when he got closer and reeled him in. Denali climbed into the co-pilot's seat and put on his oxygen mask and seat belt.
"See if you can fire thrusters to stop this tumbling," Denali suggested.
"Yes, sir." Beratim fired the thrusters on the side against the direction of the tumble. At first there was no difference, but gradually the tumbling slowed and finally stopped, to Denali's intense relief. But as the shuttle became stationary two more huge hits of debris veered it in yet another trajectory.
"Planet!" Beratim yelled excitedly.
"Did you get enough data from Nav to know if it's oxygen atmosphere or not?"
"It's on your station, sir."
Denali scanned the data. "This data is twenty-five years old!" Since the discovery of Felis II! "No habitable planets in this solar system. There is oxygen on the fourth planet, but no large bodies of water. Too small to be of interest for colonization, apparently. Which planet is this?"
"Third, sir. I'll try to maneuver to the fourth planet."
"There's no data on this planet due to the density of the upper atmosphere. It was thought to be a gas planet."
Another thump against the hull veered the shuttle closer to the third planet.
"We're caught in the planet's gravitational pull!" Beratim cried.
Denali fired thrusters while Beratim fought with piloting the ship, but the planet had the shuttle firmly in its grasp and began reeling it in. Several smaller thumps on the hull gave them an uneven vector coming into the outermost atmosphere of the planet.
"We're going down!" Beratim cried.
Denali turned quickly to the two female passengers and in a combination of Basic and Felisian told them, "We're going down. This planet has caught us and we can't pull free. Prepare for a crash because we can't maneuver."
He stared at Mala, feeling anguish over what would never be. Her face was stark with fear, the skin taut over her cheekbones. Her eyes were huge dark green orbs in the white oval face. Then he turned back to his duty. He couldn't think of her now and still be able to function.
The shuttle's exterior hull grew hotter and hotter as it careened through the upper atmosphere, causing the interior to heat up quickly. As Denali wiped sweat from his forehead, he knew the shuttle had sustained a lot of damage to the hull for it to get this hot. There was a lurch as the shuttle finally hit the lower atmosphere and then a feeling of the bottom falling out as the shuttle began to plummet to the surface unhindered.
"Beratim, get the nose up!"
"I'm trying!"
Denali continued firing the thrusters, but there was no slowing the nine metric ton shuttle in its descent. Then he fired the aft thrusters and the shuttle lurched forward. "Nose up! Look for trees or water or sand to soften the crash."
"I can't see anything down there. This atmosphere is too dense."
The thick clouds cleared suddenly. The planet looked dirt brown. Their altitude dropped quickly, but they had no power to break their speed. Denali anxiously scanned the horizon for something that offered a chance for them to survive.
"Over there." Denali pointed to a patch of dark green he assumed was forest miles away. "Hit the trees."
The shuttle was traveling four hundred kilometers an hour and reached the green area quickly. As they approached, the green resolved itself into trees. Beratim let the nose of the shuttle fall and in moments the shuttle clipped the trees in half as easily as a laser would. The flight was rough but basically unhindered, although their speed was reduced.
They flew over rocky terrain and then the shuttle hit a second forest at a much lower altitude. The trees broke much more of the shuttle's speed as they were mown down until, unexpectedly, the forest ended in a rocky prominence on the left side. The rocks scraped the Nav side of the shuttle with the tortured screech of metal.
Denali heard a female scream, but the left side of the shuttle suddenly sprang free of the rocks and the momentum flipped the shuttle over twice until it finally slammed upright full force into another rocky hill.
Chapter Two
Denali awoke to a throbbing pain in his head that amplified the beat of his heart. His skull squeezed his brain like a vise. He'd never had a headache this bad. Even his bed felt hard. When he tried to push upright, pain stabbed his chest and bright lights flashed behind his closed eyelids. His whole body ached like he'd been in a fight. The surface under his hands was cold metal. Then he remembered the shuttle going down. He'd survived! He opened his eyes and saw the deck of the shuttle. What was he doing on the floor? He'd been in the co-pilot's seat during the crash.
Slowly he pushed to a sitting position. The pain in his chest made it hard to breathe. He gingerly probed his chest and winced at several tender places. He had at least two cracked or broken ribs. He ran his hands over the rest of his body but found no other broken bones, just a lot of bruised places. There was a lump on the right side of his head above his ear.
"Beratim," he called, his voice rough. Then more loudly, "Beratim!" But there was no answer.
"Mala." Again there was no answer. "Tarana."
The Grimari didn't answer either. Since he sat by the Com station, he dragged himself to his feet using the Com chair. Then he stood swaying, lightheaded and gasping with pain. When his head cleared, he began to walk toward the co-pilot's chair. Every movement was agony, and he moved dizzyingly slow.
At the co-pilot's chair, he found the reason he'd been on the floor. He hadn't put on his safety harness, only his seat belt--and the belt had broken. He held the shredded pieces in his hands, but couldn't make sense of how it had happened. He remembered the shuttle flipping over, but nothing after that. He must have been thrown from the seat and hit his head. From this vantage point he could see the other side of the co-pilot's chair and he caught his breath. The control panel was driven into the chair on that side. If he'd been sitting there he would have been crushed! He panted through his dismay.
He could also see Beratim and knew the young man was dead. His neck was twisted at an odd angle and the controls impaled his chest. Poor Beratim. All that life force snuffed out at nineteen. His dreams of flying space ships, which he'd confided to Denali, were crushed like his chest. Just to be sure, Denali moved to his side and felt for a pulse, but there was none.
Denali looked at the young man who'd had the wildest ride of his life these past few hours. He'd performed extraordinarily. Death was not a just reward for the service Beratim had performed. The young man's face was frozen in an expression of surprise, as though he couldn't believe a landing piloted by him could end this way. Tears clogged Denali's throat, making it even harder to breathe.
Thinking through the haze of pain and shock was difficult, like slogging through thick mud. But a nagging worry reminded him there were others on board. He looked toward where Mala and Tarana had been sitting. Both were slumped over, so he couldn't see their injuries. For the first time he realized the shuttle was cut open in a huge jagged tear all along the Nav side of the shuttle, clear back to the sleeping berths. In some places the metal sides of the shuttle were bent inwards several feet, like near the passenger seats!
He staggered painfully toward Mala, not looking up as he moved for fear of what he'd see. Mid-way he ran into Selandra's ruined body and knelt down to check for a pulse. There was none, but he'd wanted to be sure. Here was another life full of promise that had been cut short too soon. She'd been a good friend to him and he would miss her very much. Denali climbed to his feet, wincing again at the pain, and continued toward Mala.
When he stood in front of Mala and Tarana, he looked up and saw finally why they were so quiet. Tarana lay protectively over Mala. The jagged metal on this side of the shuttle protruded into Tarana's body from her skull to her shoulder blades like the teeth of a giant animal. Blood saturated the seats and pooled on the floor. She'd performed the ultimate act of self-sacrifice and had thrown her body over her charge's to protect Mala from being gored to death. She had taken the metal herself, but had she done enough? There was blood in Mala's light brown hair and on her fair temple. Was she dead?
Denali felt for Tarana's pulse. She was dead, as he'd known she would be. Sadness overwhelmed him. Tarana had been faithful to Mala to the very end.
Now came the most painful test of all, to see if Mala lived. If she didn't ... but he didn't, 't, complete that thought. He reached over Tarana's still form to touch Mala's neck. He hesitated a moment as he took as deep a breath as he could, and then he lowered his fingers to her neck. Her pulse was thready--from shock, he realized--but she was still in danger, and that thought kept him from sitting on the floor and crying with relief.
"Mala!" he called her name loudly. "Mala, wake up."
She groaned a little as he unhooked Tarana's belt. As much as he felt it was disrespectful treatment of Tarana's body, he pushed her off Mala and onto the floor. Now he had access to Mala and he unhooked her belt and ran his hands over her slight body, looking for injuries. Her left forearm was broken; it must have been her that he heard scream earlier. No other bones were broken, although she winced a number of times as he checked her. She was probably as bruised as he was.
He caressed his way back up her body, overwhelmed by a hunger to touch her. He molded her surprisingly full breasts, a liberty she would never allow while awake, because this was forbidden for unmarried Bonwees. Possessiveness seared through him, shocking in its primal intensity. He wanted her for his mate. The potential mate bond thrummed in his cells, awakening a Felisian instinct he hadn't believed he'd be lucky enough to share. In order to claim her he needed to join them together intimately in a Felisian mating. He grew erect and hard. But Mala wasn't Felisian.
That thought brought back rational thought. He fought down his desire and reluctantly took his hands off her breasts. He could not take Male while she was unconscious and bond with her. He blew out his breath and lightly probed her bloody temple. The gash had bled profusely, as many head wounds did, but it didn't seem very deep. There was no other lump or wound, but he knew any head wound could be serious.
"Mala," he crooned. He nuzzled her face in the Felisian way of lovers and would-be lovers, rubbing cheek to cheek on one side against her smooth skin, then over the bridge of the nose, then cheek to cheek on the other side. She fell into the latter category, although she would be so much more than his lover. She would be his permanent mate, the other half of himself.
She smelled gently of flowers. "Mala." He kissed her cheek.
Mala groaned and her eyelids lifted slightly. The green eyes beneath were glazed. "Who are you?" she asked in a breathy voice.
"It's Denali. Does your head hurt, Mala?"
"Yes. Lieutenant Denali. From the shuttle."
She tried to lift her head, but fell back groaning. "Hurts," she moaned.
"I think you have a concussion. I'll go get you pain medicine. I'll be back, all right?"
"Yes." Her voice was slurred.
He rubbed his face against hers again. He didn't want to leave her even for a moment. "You're going to be all right, Mala. You're going to live. I need you to live."
* * * *
Mala swam in and out of consciousness. Each time she woke she was confused until Denali told her he was with her and rubbed his face against hers. Tarana had warned him not to touch Mala, but he was doing a lot of touching and she liked it.
"I like that," she told him in a slurred, dreamy voice.
"I like it too. Here, drink this." Something cool and tangy was slipped between her lips. When she'd swallowed it, warm lips covered hers for an instant and then they were gone. Denali wouldn't kiss her. She must have imagined it.
"Mala, I need to set your arm. It's going to hurt."
"No!" she moaned. "I don't want to hurt any more."
"It has to be done. Be brave for me." She felt his hands on her arm, then he pulled between her elbow and her wrist and pain stabbed her like a knife. She screamed until the pain opened a wide abyss and she fell into oblivion.
* * * *
"Who is it?" Mala asked again. She asked it every time she woke and it rubbed on Denali's raw nerves. He needed her and she was unconscious much of the time. He wasn't sure if he had taped his ribs tightly enough. He was still in shock, and he knew it, but he couldn't close his eyes because Mala needed him.
"It's Denali. Mala, can you walk?"
"Denali." She repeated his name each time. "I don't know if I can walk."
"Can you try, Mala? I need to lie down. The berths are in the back of the shuttle. Please, can you walk there?"
"I'll try," she murmured. He helped her to a sitting position, where she groaned with pain.
"Move slowly and don't open your eyes all the way."
She rose very slowly with her good hand pressed against her forehead. He'd taped her broken arm to her body while she was unconscious.
"Head to the back of the shuttle," he directed her somewhat robotic movements.
It took awhile but they both arrived at the sleeping berths. "Get in the middle berth." She climbed in, her movements slow and her face contorted with pain. Gently he pushed her to the back wall, and then he climbed in with her.
"What are you doing?" she squawked, then grabbed her head, grimacing. Her eyes squeezed shut.
"I'm going into shock. I need warmth. But I have to take care of you. Please let me stay so I know you're all right."
Mala's eyes flew open, full of distress. "Don't die! I need you."
"Then help keep me warm. I need you, Mala."
He pulled the berth hatch down until it latched, holding his ribs tightly with the other hand. They were engulfed in the tight darkness together. He covered them with a blanket and slid his arms around her. Mala stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed against him. He rubbed his face against hers.
"What's that for?" she asked, her voice slurred.
"It's a Felisian greeting."
"Tara won't like this. It's not proper. Where is she?"
He sighed. He hated this part. At least he didn't have to ask who Tara was any more. It was her bodyguard's nickname. But when would her short-term memory return?
"She's dead, remember?"
"Dead? How? When?"
"In the shuttle crash. Where you and I got hurt."
"No! Not dead. Not Tara." She began to sob. She always cried at this part and he held her as tightly as his ribs would allow.
"I'll take care of you now. Nothing's going to happen to you. It's all right."
"You can't take care of me. You're a man. You know unmarried Bonwees live chaste lives."
"Yes, I know." Denali also knew she missed the symbiotic bond she'd shared with Tarana. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Not until he could form a mate bond with her to replace it. "But I'd like to be your man, Mala."
She tilted her face up to his, her nose brushing his chin. "What do you mean? You're not Grimari. You can't bond with me."
Until now, only Grimari males could bond to Bonwee females. "You believe that because no Felisian has ever tried. I believe it is possible. But I understand you need to get to know me, to see if we're compatible before you allow me to try."
"I don't think it's possible."
Denali had seen the way Mala looked at him since she'd come on board, like she found him fascinating and beautiful. If he had to use his Felisian looks to appeal to her, he would. "I don't think you find me repulsive. Will you give me time to find out if it's possible?"
"No, you're not repulsive. But I'm only going to be here a few weeks." Her voice had grown querulous.
"We'll make the most of them." An empty promise, considering their current physical conditions. He kissed her cheek. "Sleep for awhile. I'm so tired."
"Don't die, Denali!"
"I won't." He wanted to live to be with her. He'd planted the idea in her mind. He needed to live to see it to fruition.
* * * *
Mala woke without pain in her head for the first time. She was aware of the passage of time and snippets of things happening, but all her memories were dream-like. She opened her eyes to the darkness of what she realized was her sleeping berth, but someone was in the berth with her.
"Tara?"
"It's Denali," said a baritone voice, sounding sleepy.
"What are you doing in my berth?" she demanded. All her Bonwee-bred chasteness came roaring to life.
"Mala, I'm tired. Go back to sleep."
"You can't sleep here." No unmarried Bonwee shared a bed with someone of the opposite sex.
His hands framed her face, his palms smooth and warm against her cheeks. "What's the matter?"
His hands were familiar and she realized that he was body to body with her in a too-intimate pose. That, too, was familiar. His musky scent tickled her nose, also familiar.
"Have I been ill?" she asked.
"You've had a concussion."
"For how long?"
"This is the fourth day since the crash. Is your headache gone?"
"Yes. Have you been sleeping with me every night?"
"And every day. I felt it was better if we stayed together."
If they'd been sleeping most of the past three days, he must have been hurt in the crash. "Have you been ill too?"
"A slight concussion, cracked ribs, shock."
"Are you feeling any better?"
"Yes, but the pain medication makes me sleepy."
"I need to get up. Would you open the berth please?"
"Mala," he put a restraining hand on her arm. "Do you remember what's out there in the shuttle?"
She remembered pieces of sad news and tears. She took a deep breath. "Dead bodies."
"Yes. I got them into body bags but I couldn't move them by myself. Please be careful where you go out there."
"I will."
He opened the berth and the light showed him snuggled tightly with her in the confined space, his long tawny mane in glorious disarray across their shared pillow. As his face turned back to her, his eyes had a chatoyant gleam. Cat eyes. He was part feline, after all. Then they changed from reflective to golden and she was snared in their depths. The darker striations made him look more feline than ever. His golden skin was paler than usual, but he was still a golden beauty, perfect in face and body. She'd never seen anyone so beautiful. She took in a breath, trying to calm her pounding heart, and looked away.
She saw no other way to climb out of the berth than to slide over his body. Moving cautiously onto him, she was startled by the feel of her breasts pressed against his firm chest. Before she could move over him, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against him. Her heart pounded frantically.
"Mala."
He nuzzled her face. Automatically she echoed his movements. What had been going on in this berth for the past three days? His gesture felt completely natural and acceptable to her. She slid over him and out of the berth.
"Do you want the berth closed?" Mala asked.
"Yes," he said sleepily.
Mala felt a tendril of fear. How ill had he been? She closed the berth hatch and looked around in the cool air. She stood between the rows of temporary sleeping berths. The rectangular boxes were stacked three high on each side. She crossed to the bathing room to use the facilities and found the room a mess. Cabinets and drawers were open and supplies scattered over counters and on the floor.
She walked down the corridor to the tiny galley and found that it, too, was a mess. The remains of food packets covered every surface. Could all this mess be from the crash? She located something to eat and drink and cautiously paced forward to the passenger section. There the destruction was overwhelming. The gaping gash that seared past where she now stood reminded her of a horrible pain in her arm and head, and she rubbed the splints on her arm that she knew Denali had put there.
Logic told her the gash was what had killed Tara. Tara's body was there somewhere, but she wasn't ready to see it. There was a bagged form near the pilot's chair and she could see the edge of another one on the floor: the navigator. She shuddered, remembering the bloody mess of the woman's face after the explosion. The front section of the shuttle was completely crushed inward. How had Denali survived the impact?
Cool air was coming from the gash in the hull. Oxygen! It wasn't recycled air like on the shuttle; it contained no chemical odor, but smelled dry and clean. The emergency power was still on because the emergency lights were lit, so the shuttle hatch should open.
She hurried to the hatch in the side of the shuttle and pressed the control, but nothing happened. She tugged on the hatch handles, and then she pushed the control again. This time the mechanism complained but the hatch opened, then stopped halfway, leaving an opening wide enough for a slender woman like her. Denali might not fit through, but they could widen the opening later.
She climbed through the hatch and stepped down onto hard ground. The sun was weak in the sky through the heavy cloud cover and a slight breeze moved the cooler air over her bare hands and face, making her shiver. Was this a colder season on this planet or was it always like this? She moved several feet away from the shuttle then turned to study it. The damage on the outside was terrible. The hull was pitted and gouged deeply from debris hitting the shuttle after the Malchovist ship exploded. Where the hull had been more seriously damaged, there were scorch marks from entry into the planet's atmosphere.
Mala walked to the back of the shuttle where there was a long furrow in the dirt twenty meters wide and several meters deep. It took her a second to realize the shuttle had created the furrow with its landing. She looked up to see a path razed through the trees some distance back. The snapped trunks were stark against the gray overcast sky, mute testimony to recent violence. What a terrible death those trees had experienced. She shuddered. Just like the people inside the shuttle had.
Mala crossed the furrow to see the other side of the shuttle. The long rent that had killed Tarana looked like a large, vicious animal had attacked the shuttle, leaving deep scratches and wounds behind.
She walked to the point where she calculated she would have been sitting inside--and here the tear seemed widest, the metal exploding inward to stab at innocent passengers. Tara! She reached her good hand to the hull and bowed her head. She said a prayer for her best friend's soul to find joy wherever Grimari went after they died. Tara hadn't been a theist, but she wouldn't mind Mala praying for her. Tara had been dead four days already so Mala hoped her prayer wasn't too late.
Mala's chest felt tight and she pressed her hand to her heart. For four days she'd been unbonded, severed from what she'd thought would be a lifelong connection. She was glad she'd been unconscious when the symbiotic bond with Tara was lost; to have felt it uprooted from her body would have been unbearable. But the place inside her where the Bonwee-Grimari bond had tied her to Tarana was empty now, achingly so. She'd wanted that bond, needed it, exalted in having it and in having the warm love that was her best friend Tara. As Mala's bodyguard, Tara had provided security as well as a sense of safety. She'd provided comfort and caring and constant companionship.
They'd had ten years together, not long at all in the scheme of things, but at least they'd had that much time together. Losing a best friend wasn't like losing a husband or child or parent, but it still hurt terribly with a tight fist of grief in her chest and a tightening of her throat. won't cry, Mala swore, even though she knew she'd cried already. wouldn't want a sobbing mess. She'd want me to be brave, so I'll be brave.
She walked forward, looking at the terrain immediately surrounding the shuttle. The nose of the shuttle was buried in huge boulders taller than her head, so further exploration had to be to the side or back of the shuttle. She started off to the left side first. It was mostly barren, rocky ground in this direction and it wasn't long before her feet hurt from climbing and scrambling over rocks and boulders in short boots that weren't made for climbing. Her broken arm throbbed as she moved, so she clutched it to her chest.
At least she'd finally gotten warm with the unexpected exertion. After twenty minutes she'd seen no trees or water, only startled one small rodent, saw very few insects and only sparse, dry-looking vegetation. This was definitely not the direction to explore, so she turned back.
Where was the shuttle? Mala's heart pounded in fear. She couldn't see it. She couldn't have gone that far, but climbing over and around boulders had kept her from going in a straight line. She looked for treetops and could just barely see them a little to her right. That meant the shuttle was to the left, so she started that way.
More than thirty minutes and two dead-ends later, she stumbled gratefully into the furrows behind the shuttle. Her breathing was labored from the unfamiliar exertion and she stopped to lean against the hull and catch her breath. There she heard a sound.
It came again. "Mala!" Denali's voice was distressed. Was something wrong?
She scrambled around the side of the shuttle and climbed up through the hatch. Denali was standing in the front aisle looking wild. He looked panicked until he saw her.
"Mala!" he stumbled to her and reached out his arms to drag her to him and crush her close.
"What's wrong?" she demanded, pushing him far enough away to be able to see his face.
"Where were you? I woke up and you were gone. I called and called for you. I was worried that something had happened to you." He kissed her face urgently and she pushed away from him.
"I was looking over our surroundings. I was careful. You didn't have to worry."
"You're my responsibility. I told you I'd take care of you." His arm slid around her back and he drew her to him to nuzzle her face.
"Stop that!" she protested, pushing hard at his chest. He groaned in pain. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed quickly. "I forgot about your ribs."
Denali hugged his arms to his chest while he breathed loudly. "It will stop hurting shortly," he gasped.
"I'm sorry, but it's not right that you keep touching me. I think you've taken a lot of liberties while we were ill, but it's got to stop now. You know Bonwee are chaste."
"Touching you doesn't threaten your chastity. It feels right to me and you've responded to it the past four days. We need touch, to know we're not alone. You need it badly right now, and I want to give it to you. I want you in my arms, I want to kiss and nuzzle you, and I need to know where you are at night. I need the reassurance of being next to you in the dark."
"You want sex ..."
"I want to mate. With you. From the moment I found you alive after the crash I wanted to join with you to affirm life. I've wanted it every night as I lay with you in my arms. I want it now ... with you."
Mala held her palm up between them. "Stay away from me! I've heard about Felisian morals--rather, their lack of them. I'm not someone who has sex indiscriminately. I'll give my chastity to my spouse after I marry him. I won't have sex with you."
Denali's golden eyes snapped with emotion. "I'm not without self-control, and you discredit me by thinking I am. Even though you and I were attracted to each other from the first moment we met, I haven't acted on that attraction as a Felisian normally would. I tried to respect Bonwee rules of propriety while I took care of you these past days.
"Do you remember talking to me about a mate bond? I don't want to lose the tenuous connection we've built since the crash, a connection built on physical closeness. You feel it too, that tie between us. We only have a few weeks before you leave to find out whether we're compatible enough for a permanent relationship. I don't want to waste that time staring longingly at each other, wondering what it would be like to be together. Do you really want to get on that transport at Felis II and not know what we could have shared?"
Vaguely she remembered such a discussion. "I'd like to know, but I can't be intimate with you. For me that requires commitment."
"Until then, I need the closeness of touch. What will you allow, Mala? Will you allow me to hold hands with you?"
"Denali," she protested.
"Tell me."
That seemed safe enough. "Yes."
"May I put my arm around you and hold you against me?"
She paused to consider this one while his golden eyes watched her closely. To have her body--her breasts, belly and hips--pressed to his seemed so very intimate. But if they were fully dressed it would be less intimate. It wasn't something that other Bonwees would approve of, but Denali was right that she needed touching badly. She and Tarana had been physically close. Now she had not only the inner emptiness of being unbonded, but the outer lack of a friend's touch. Just now Denali's hug had felt comforting until she remembered Bonwee restraint.
"All right."
"Will you nuzzle faces with me?"
She remembered this was a Felisian form of greeting. "Yes."
"May I kiss you?"
"Not on the lips. Only a Bonwee's spouse may do that."
Denali took an audible breath. "What about the sleeping arrangements?"
"I sleep alone from now on," she stated firmly.
"Mala," he protested, "how can I protect you that way?"
"You can sleep in the berth above me, like Tara did."
"Tara left the berth open. It's too cold on this planet to do that."
"We have blankets," she offered in a dry tone.
"You might need comfort in the night."
"I've slept alone for twenty-eight years. I can sleep alone for a few more days until we're rescued."
"All right. Your message is received loud and clear. I don't agree with your decision, but I won't force you to see my view of things."
"Thank you."
"Come talk to me while I have something to eat."
"I'll tell you what I saw while I was outside."
She moved to pass him on the way to the galley, but instead of turning to go with her, he gathered her tightly into his arms and rubbed his face against hers.
"Denali," she protested.
"My friends call me Deni. Will you put your arms around me, too?"
Slowly her arms came up around his back as he continued to nuzzle her. How strange that what was frowned upon by her species should feel so good. His body was solid and warm. She rested against him for a moment until his lips pressed warmly to the side of her face.
"Deni," she protested weakly. "You can't take advantage of me all the time."
"Mm," he murmured. He kissed her on her cheek, then let her go and walked further along the corridor.
Her fingers pressed the spot he'd kissed and then slid to her lips, which were tingling. How strange. He hadn't actually kissed her lips, but they tingled just the same. She looked where he'd gone to find he'd stopped to stare at her, his golden eyes darkened. Was he trying to seduce her? Was this how it was done?
He reached out his hand to her.
Chapter Three
Mala automatically went to Denali and placed her hand in his. They entered the tiny galley and he released her hand in order to prepare his meal.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No, I've eaten. We need to straighten the galley; it's a mess from the crash. So is the bathing room."
A slight pink stained his cheeks. "The crash didn't make the messes. I did."
She smiled. "Before the crash you seemed to be a neat person."
"While I had the concussion I was dizzy, and the few times I could get you up, things were rushed. I grabbed what I could and didn't bother about cleaning up afterwards. But the mess will have to wait while we move the others outside and bury them if we can."
Mala gulped, but straightened her shoulders. She knew this duty could no longer be avoided. The others had been dead for four days already. "Tell me what you want done."
"There should be a shovel in the tool compartment."
She followed him out of the galley to the right. There was a compartment next to the hatch, almost waist high.
"Look for the shovel in there while I get the hatch open all the way," Denali directed.
"Sure."
Mala brought out the cartons and boxes stored carefully inside and opened each one. There were tools used for exploring and science, emergencies and repair, survival and construction. When she found the shovel, she looked back at Denali, not for the first time. His muscles flexed under his navy blue uniform as he strained at the hatch, his long tawny mane flowed forward over his shoulders and back again in a bronze hypnotic sway. He grimaced in pain with the strain on his cracked ribs.
She moved to his side. "Let me help with that."
With both of them straining, the hatch opened fully. Denali looked around outside, then back to her. "It's going to be hard and unpleasant. Are you sure you're up to this?"
He thought she was as soft as she looked. He was in for a surprise! "I investigate rights violations for USP. I've seen unpleasant things before."
His tawny eyebrows lifted in surprise. Then he smiled. "That's something I'd like to hear more about some time."
"I'd love to tell you." She smiled, too, and followed him to the front of the shuttle.
* * * *
While moving Tarana's body, Denali was reminded that the death of Mala's bodyguard meant the job of protecting and caring for Mala became his responsibility. He welcomed the challenge without reservation because they would become mates some day soon.
He glanced at Mala as they rested by the hatch, drawn by her sadness and pain. Tarana's death had freed Mala from her previous ties. She belonged to him now.
"Come here, Mala," he urged. He needed to hold her.
She hesitated a moment and then slid into his arms and he pressed her warm body to him. She lifted her face to his and he kissed her everywhere but on the lips.
"Kiss me, too," he urged.
Mala tentatively kissed him on the cheek. She grew more confident and placed more kisses on his face. Unable to help himself, he turned his face slightly and her next kiss landed on his lips. The contact was electric and he devoured her lips hungrily. This was what he wanted with this woman. Mala participated fully for long moments until she stiffened, broke the kiss, and turned her face away. He continued to nuzzle the side of her face while she breathed heavily and regained control once more.
"That was wrong," she said in an anguished voice.
"No. Your feelings about your partner's death are strong. You came to me for assurance and to feel alive. You reaffirmed life with me. It wasn't wrong."
"That's not what I was raised to believe," she denied, her voice low.
Denali knew he couldn't challenge her beliefs with words. "Can you continue now?"
Mala looked at him, her face tight with want. Slowly he placed his lips on hers and allowed her to deepen the kiss until it was a sensual suction. He gave her control of the kiss, but it strained all his willpower. Her lips were marvelously shaped. Wide and full, and they covered his completely. She was a wonderful kisser, this tentative virgin, and he never wanted the kiss to end. He would never let her give her kisses to anyone else.
She slowly broke the kiss, but he didn't voice the protest he felt. She was conditioned to go slowly in a relationship, while he already knew he wanted her permanently. He wanted to experience that kiss again and again all his life. He had two weeks to make her feel the same way about him.
* * * *
Finally Tarana's large Grimari body lay outside the shuttle beside Selandra's. Mala leaned her weight against the side of the shuttle, drawing in great draughts of air. Denali leaned next to her trying to catch his breath. When he could breathe again, he gathered her to him with one arm. He turned her so they stood facing away from the bodies.
Unexpectedly, Mala said, "I'm a theist."
"Does it help?"
"Most of the time. I like the thought of not being alone and of being able to ask for help from a higher power. I don't always get the help I want, but those times I learn lessons instead. Are you a theist, Deni?"
"No. Most Felisians aren't. We draw strength from being bonded to millions of other Felisians. Because we share a collective consciousness, we're never alone after we're bonded to our species. We don't feel loneliness as other species do. That's why we stay together, to feel the connection to the others."
"I wondered why Felisians stayed close to their two planets. Can you feel it now?"
Denali stilled and then his eyes widened. "No, I can't feel it!" For the first time in fourteen years he felt a disturbing disconnection, loneliness, and an eerie emptiness inside. All his empathic life he'd wished not to feel the emotions of others. Now he felt only Mala's loneliness like a haunting echo of his own. Was this how non-empaths felt all the time? He shuddered.
"You're unbonded, like me," Mala said, her tone sympathetic.
He looked sharply at her. "Yes, that's how it feels. Do you feel empty inside like me, Mala?"
"Yes." She looked at him with her deep feeling.
He wrapped his other arm around her. "I'll fill you, Mala. And you'll fill me in return."
"How?" Her voice throbbed with yearning.
He fought a battle with himself over what must be done and what he wanted to do. Despite her yearning, Mala wouldn't allow him to mate with her so he could forge bonds between them. He wouldn't force her, even though it was what they both needed, to be half of someone or something else as they were programmed to be by their DNA.
"We'll talk about it tonight. Let's finish this."
Finally the pilot's body lay beside the others on the ground outside.
"I.D.'s," Denali gasped, though breathing caused fire in his chest.
"What?"
He sucked in a breath. "We need all their documentation, their effects. We need to search them." He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier.
"I'll do it. My hand is smaller than yours," Mala said in a strangled voice.
"Jewelry, too."
She nodded, dropped to her knees and began the search. Finally there was a small pile of personal effects on the ground and she climbed to her feet again.
Denali felt how disturbed Mala was by what she'd had to do. "Why don't you sit down while I get the shovel?" Mala simply nodded and did as he asked.
The first jab into the dirt sent pain stabbing through his ribs and he dropped the shovel to hug his ribs tightly. For long moments he breathed through the pain until it was bearable. Then he picked up the shovel and made another stab at the ground. It was almost as hard as rock. This jab hurt almost as much as the first one had, and when he opened his eyes, Mala stood close to him with a concerned look on her face.
"We'll have to burn them. Do you have any objections?"
He had no breath, so he simply shook his head.
"Tara would like knowing she had a funeral pyre," she astonished him by saying, then she turned and walked back to the shuttle. She returned with a black box, a canister of accelerant and an igniter. She handed him the accelerant and stooped to put the personal affects in the box. Denali splashed the bodies liberally, and then turned to her.
"Do you want to say any final words or prayer?"
Mala faced the bodies. "Thank you for your service and your sacrifice. You'll be remembered with honor. You've gone to a better place and we're glad for you, but we'll miss you. Be at peace now."
She nodded to him and he lit the funeral pyre. They moved away from the smoke and the heat and Mala slipped her hand into his.
There was honor in this pyre and reverence for the bodies. No cold dark pit for them, but a blaze of glory, entirely fitting. "This was well done," he said, keeping his tone quiet in honor of the dead.
"Yes, very appropriate for them," she agreed.
* * * *
They watched the fire until it was burning embers and then Denali turned Mala back to the shuttle. "We should eat something to keep our strength up."
"I don't think I can," Mala replied in a small voice.
"Try. We have a lot to do today, and you need energy. Tara would want you to take care of yourself."
Mala scrutinized his face. "You barely knew Tara. How do you know that's what she would want?"
"Because she wanted what was best for you. Just like I do."
He held out his hand to her. After a moment she took it.
As they ate, Denali laid out his plan. "I don't know how soon my ship will find us, so we need to determine how much food, water and power we have left and how long each will last. We should do that today."
They met back in the galley to compare what they'd found.
"The emergency power will last about a week," Denali said, then added, "if we use it sparingly. After we store some water for drinking, there's enough left for several days of short showers."
"We have food and liquid stores for a conservative week," Mala reported.
"So if we're not rescued in a week we'll need to find water and a source of food," Denali decided.
"Agreed."
* * * *
They worked industriously for hours and the shuttle was straightened and sanitized. Then Mala helped Denali close the hatch. He taped plastic over her splinted arm and she slipped into the bathing room to shower. She gasped at her hag-like appearance in the mirror. Her short brown curls were disordered. There was dirt on her face and a black streak across her forehead. Her clothes were dirty and wrinkled. Denali still looked beautiful, but Mala worried about how bad she, herself, looked. She'd never thought about her looks before, but she wanted to be attractive to him.
Their circumstances weren't conducive to romantic thoughts, although she was getting to know Denali. She liked what she'd learned so far, a lot. She liked his kisses, his caresses and his embraces a lot, too. Probably too much. She didn't want to think about leaving him in two weeks. She didn't want there to be a time when she couldn't see him and be with him.
She had a startling thought: what would it be like to marry him? To give her chastity to him? To bear his children? Mala warmed with a blush all over until the thought of his children found fertile ground in her mind. Babies. Lovely, wonderful babies. They'd be beautiful like Denali, of course. He would be a loving father and take good care of their children. She got goose bumps as she thought about what a demanding lover he would be. How immodest for her to think of that. These thoughts were inappropriate for a chaste young Bonwee. And Denali was a sentient being, not an object for her base lust.
She showered in cool water to quiet her lust and quickly washed her hair. She dressed in a soft green tunic set and opened the bathing room door. Denali was there and once again she was caught by his beauty. He smiled at her, making her feel all warm inside, and she smiled shyly at him. He stood close to her and pulled on one of her wet ringlets and it sprang back to her head.