The Tragoom did so, and its foul reek made her gag. As she choked on a burning tide of bile, the Bi’isil tipped the metal rod it carried toward her. The Tragoom dropped her with a sound that was squeaky with fright.
Tina hit the ground, and the tip of the metal rod touched her cheek. She went rigid, unable to move as torment filled her entire body. White-hot agony ripped into her, as if she were being shredded by ragged claws. Though the Tragoom no longer held her captive, she couldn’t escape.
But she could scream. For an eternity, she did so, even during the rush of vomit that ejected in a forceful stream. Through it all, the Bi’isil simply stood there, holding the rod to her flesh, watching her suffer.
At last, it lifted the rod away. Pain is only the beginning. Learn to please me, or die. Now apologize.
Tina should have been cowed. The Tina of Earth and the Tina of the convent would have been. Those earlier versions of herself had thought their only function was to please others. And the Bi’isil’s rod had been sheer hell. A sizable portion of instinct was intent on never doing anything to be touched with it again.
Despite the agony she’d endured, she wasn’t either of the earlier Tinas. She was a new Tina, clanned by men who’d shown her she had nothing to prove to anyone to be worthwhile. She was the Tina who loved those men, one of whom who’d been shoved over a cliff because of this Bi’isil bastard. She was the Tina who’d witnessed her brother attacked by its Tragoom slave. Her people-pleasing days were done.
She lifted her head. The Tragoom kept its distance, betraying it had been a victim of that pain stick in its past. Noting it shielded its crotch with its hoof-like hands, Tina had a moment of pity for the awful thing. But only a moment.
She aimed her glare at the Bi’isil. The rod still pointed in her direction. No matter.
“Take your big, ugly gray head and shove it up your Tragoom’s ass.”
Tina lunged and grabbed the pain stick, avoiding its business end. She yanked. When the Bi’isil hung onto it, she settled for jerking her foe close. She slapped the alien as hard as she could. Then she backhanded it, ignoring the vicious jolt of pain from her swollen wrist.
The Bi’isil squalled in her mind and tore the rod loose, running in reverse several steps. The little bastard was stronger than it looked. Tina’s fist curled around a rock, and she readied to fight.
You will pay, bag of fuckmeat! The Bi’isil pointed its stick and ran forward, as if planning to impale her on it.
Zac ran past Tina, his sturdy legs pumping for all they were worth. “I said, leave my sister alone!” he yelled.
“Zac, no!” Tina hurtled at the Bi’isil, desperate to grab their opponent before he could use the stick on the boy.
With both coming at it, the Bi’isil didn’t know who to defend against. Perhaps because Tina was the bigger of the two, the wavering tip of the rod settled in her direction. It stuck out its arm to ward Zac off.
The boy dodged at the last second. Metal glinted in the waning light of the dying day as his fist pistoned back and forth. Greenish-yellow fluid spurted from the Bi’isil. It took Tina a second to realize Zac had the thin knife the Tragoom had knocked from her hand. He was stabbing the Bi’isil.
Kill it! Kill it! Make it stop!
The Bi’isil’s terror-filled cry hadn’t been for her. She was sure she’d been hit by a shuttle when something crashed into her, knocking her several feet. All the air left her as she thudded to the rubble-strewn ground. She lay stunned, watching as the Tragoom stampeded for Zac.
Her mind shouted, Get up! Save him!
Yet she couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t remember how her extremities worked. Meanwhile, Zac had noticed the approaching danger, flung himself from the Bi’isil, and was running, sidestepping the clumsy Tragoom as it tried to catch him.
GET UP!
Her hands slapped to the ground, sharp bits cutting into the palms. Somehow, she hoisted herself to her knees. Shoved upwards as the Tragoom snagged Zac’s jacket. Stood as the child wrenched free, his coat ripping. A rectangular object fell from it, landing amongst the rubble.
Her legs slogged forward, barely able to maintain her balance, incapable of running. Tina didn’t think she was breathing yet, but she forced herself on.
Zac went the wrong direction and found himself boxed in by the hill of rubble. He had nowhere to run. The Tragoom was upon him.
A blur of motion flew at the pair. Osopa, bloody but alive, appeared between the Tragoom and Zac, the thin-bladed knife in his hand. Giving the monster no opportunity to react, Osopa shoved it into the Tragoom’s eye to the hilt.
The beast’s grunts ended in a slobbery whimper. It collapsed.
The scene was abruptly filled with more blurs as Kalquorians arrived on the run. A few surrounded the feebly stirring Bi’isil. Others, wearing the green uniforms of the emergency medical department, descended on Osopa. He shoved against them to pick up a sobbing Zac. Yorso pushed his way to them. He spoke to his Nobek, who handed Zac off to him.
Tina wasn’t sure how long Tukui had been next to her, his beefy arm gripping her waist. She stared at him and noticed his lips were moving.
“Huh?”
“My Matara, sit down. Let me look at you. Ancestors, your poor wrist. It’s sprained, at the very least. Medic!”
A green-uniformed Imdiko left the others tending Osopa and hurried over with Yorso. Zac squirmed free and got to Tina first, throwing himself in her embrace. “Tina!” They hugged each other tight, hanging on desperately.
She continued to clutch him while the medic scanned her wrist, cleaned the dirt off, and wrapped it. He had to work around the trembling boy she gripped to her side and the two men hugging her while they rubbed Zac’s back and head, whispering words of comfort. Somehow, the talented fellow did his job and checked Zac for injuries too.
“I don’t see any sign of a break on that wrist. Probably a bad sprain. As for the boy, he has bruises and a few scratches. Maybe a slight concussion. Bring them both to Medical for a full scan as soon as you return to the site, Dramok.”
After he left, Zac lifted his burning face from Tina’s shoulder. He grabbed Tukui and pointed at the containment barrier. In the growing darkness, the dome was black.
“My house was in there. It’s gone. It’s all gone,” Zac sobbed.
“I know, little brother. I’m sorry.” Tukui hugged him.
“Mommy. Daddy. They’re dead.”
He broke down again, burrowing his face against Tukui’s neck. Tina cried along with him. Then Zac struggled to Yorso and huddled against the Imdiko. Tina wasn’t sure if he was trying to apologize for running off, or if he simply needed to reassure himself they were all there for him as the ugly truth allowed no avoidance.
Osopa, a mess of blood and field bandages, joined them. He handed off the black object that had fallen from Zac’s jacket to Tukui. “Tracker.”
Tukui shook his head and attached the device to his belt. A wry smile of admiration creased his lips. “Smart boy.”
Osopa crouched to embrace Zac, who tried to hide his face from the Nobek. Osopa wiped the tears from his dirty face. “Go ahead and cry, little brother. It’s okay to be sad. I lost my fathers too, and I miss them still.”
“I’m sorry I snuck off and got you and Tina hurt. Can I come back? Can I stay with you?” The child looked at them all, his expression miserable.