Despite his urgency, he forced himself to slow down and move cautiously inside the hangar’s entrance. His ship was still where he had left it, seemingly untouched. The two transport ships used to bring slaves down to the surface were also in the same position. A couple of the smaller flyers had shifted around, but they didn’t worry him.
No guards were on duty, but he hadn’t really expected any. The Zameetans relied on their automated system a little too heavily, for which he was duly grateful. But he was not about to be careless when he was this close to his goal. He kept to the perimeter of the huge space, quickly but quietly working his way around until the landing ramp for his ship was only a short distance away. Unfortunately, there was no cover between his location and the ramp. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, he started across the open space.
He was almost at the ramp when he heard the unmistakable sound of a blaster firing up. The weapon would not seriously wound him, unless it managed to find one of his scars, but the impact could knock him forward and Joan was in his arms.
“I knew you’d come back for your ship, Varga.”
Anger filled him as he recognized the mocking voice. Baahy.
“I knew you had to be behind this ridiculous uprising,” the guard continued. “I warned Ukhaan not to trust you but he wouldn’t listen, just like he never listened to anything else I had to say. Now turn around.”
If he did, Joan would be vulnerable to the weapon. But if he did not and Baahy fired, he might fall and hurt her. Gritting his teeth, he let her slip quietly to the ground, and turned to face Baahy, keeping his body between the guard and his female.
He did his best to keep his face impassive as he took in Baahy’s disheveled condition, but he must not have been entirely successful because the male snarled.
“This is your fault,” he said, gesturing to his torn uniform and the cuts and scrapes on the visible parts of his body. “You drove the slaves to revolt.”
“How could I have done that?” he asked coolly, even though he was rejoicing inside. Nepala had done it.
“I don’t know, but I know you’re responsible. So let me tell you how this is going to go. You are going to unlock your ship, and we are going to leave this fucking planet. You can even bring your slave along.” His laughter sent a chill down Varga’s spine. “It’s long past time I had my way with her.”
“You will never put a finger on her,” he growled.
“Won’t I?” Baahy waved the blaster. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m armed and you’re not.”
Varga realized that Baahy didn’t know about his unique abilities. Good. That gave him an advantage. He just needed the right moment to use it.
“You can’t shoot me,” he said calmly. “You need me to unlock the ship and to fly it. It’s coded to my genetics.”
Baahy scowled. “But you don’t need all of your working parts for either task.”
He took a step forward, and Varga tensed, ready to spring, when there was a soft noise behind him and Baahy’s eyes flickered in that direction. Oh, gods, was Joan waking up or was her sickness getting worse?
Before he could turn to check on her, a small golden flash raced past him. George. Baahy jumped and fired at the lizard but the shot went wide, and a second later, George reached him. He scrambled up over Baahy’s boot and sank sharp little teeth into the exposed flesh revealed by Baahy’s torn uniform leg.
Baahy howled and kicked out with his leg, sending the lizard flying, but before he could regain his stance, Varga was on him. He threw the guard to the ground and put his boot over Baahy’s throat.
“You will never lay a hand on my female, and you will never injure another slave again.”
Baahy gasped, his eyes bugging out, and clawed frantically at the ground. Varga looked down and saw that Baahy’s leg was swelling, blisters already covering the area where George had bitten him.
Varga lifted his foot and stepped back as Baahy continued to thrash, a high-pitched moan coming from his throat as blisters covered more of his skin. He was obviously in agony, but Varga had no sympathy. The male deserved everything he received.
Keeping one eye on the writhing body of the guard, Varga looked around for George. The lizard was hobbling back in his direction, one leg dragging and obviously broken. Varga went to retrieve him, carefully lifting him into his arms.
“You did very well, my friend,” he said softly, and George gave a weak little chirp.
There was a final terrible burbling sound from Baahy’s direction, but Varga only checked to make sure that the body wasn’t moving before hurrying back to Joan.
She was still lying where he’d left her, her cheeks flushed and her head turning restlessly. He put George on her stomach and lifted them both together, then quickly unlocked the ship and carried them through to the medical bed. It had been part of the equipment when he purchased the ship, and he’d never used it but knew the basic principles.
He placed her on the soft surface and picked up George again. After lowering the clear plastic canopy over the bed, he chose the
