Pairing with the Protector Read online

  “What are you doing?” Rafe demanded in a low, angry voice. “Come back here behind me, Whitney! How else can I keep you safe?”

  “Don’t worry—they’re way too involved in each other to notice me,” Whitney reassured him. “And look—my hypothesis was right.”

  “Your hypothesis? What hypothesis?” he asked, still sounding angry. Whitney didn’t pay any attention to his scowls—he was always grumpy when he was worried about her safety.

  “Look,” she said again, moving away from the naked, rutting pair to make him happy. “Look at what the MMD says.”

  She showed the chunky silver gun’s readout window to the big Kindred and he frowned at the result. Rafe hadn’t known much about zoology or the equipment she used to capture and observe specimens when he had first started working as her protector, but he was a quick study and since Whitney loved talking about her research and findings with him, he soon caught on. She saw the comprehension on his face when he looked at the readout and knew that he understood.

  “They’re not sentient.” He looked up at her, frowning. “In fact, they have very simple brain wave patterns. Not much more complex than a domestic pet.”

  “They’re about on the level with cats or dogs,” Whitney said, nodding. “No wonder she didn’t answer me when I talked to her,” she went on, looking at the woman, who was still moaning and yowling like a female cat in heat while the man rammed into her from behind.

  “And no wonder they have no shame about mating in front of us,” Rafe said dryly. “Animals have no modesty or sense of propriety about such things.”

  “These certainly don’t,” Whitney said, frowning. “But if the humanoids here are feral animals with the brain waves of a house cat, then who built those enormous skyscrapers we saw when we were landing?”

  “Who indeed?” Rafe muttered. “And who—?”

  But before he could finish the question, the feral humanoids abruptly stiffened and stopped their mating. Both of their heads were cocked at the sky and both sets of nostrils were flaring—for all the world like animals scenting danger, Whitney thought.

  Then they pulled apart and ran abruptly into the forest, scampering on all fours into the underbrush as fast as they could go.

  “What in the world?” Whitney began but Rafe already had her by the arm and was dragging her towards the ship.

  “Come on,” he growled when she started to protest. “We need to get the fuck out of here! Something’s wrong—I can smell it. Something—”

  But before he could finish his sentence, a vast black shadow fell over them, blotting out the golden-orange sunlight which had been streaming in through the towering trees.

  Whitney looked up, shielding her eyes, but all she could catch was a vague impression of something blue and snake-like moving towards her. Then a rumbling voice, like boulders crashing to the ground said, “Pretty!”

  The next minute the blue snaky thing wrapped itself around her waist and she was pulled right out of Rafe’s hands while the big Kindred was knocked to the ground.

  “Pretty,” the rumbling voice said again. “I’ve never seen a Tweedle like you—I think I’ll take you home to show to Mama.”

  Eight

  Rafe watched with helpless rage as the immense alien, which appeared to have a long, flexible snout in the center of its lumpish face, plucked Whitney right off the ground and raised her several stories high where he couldn’t reach her.

  “Rafe—help!” she screamed but his blaster had been knocked from his hand and while he scrabbled madly in the tall green and purple grass, trying to find it, the huge blue alien was lumbering away.

  Giving up, he ran after them, doing his best to catch the giant creature who had Whitney in its grip, though for every one of its enormous strides, he had to take five.

  At last he caught up but without his blaster there was nothing he could do to make the huge thing drop her.

  Nothing from the ground, anyway, he thought grimly. Time to go up.

  Luckily, the vast alien was wearing an equally vast garment made of some coarse, faded red material which was draped over its lumpy blue bulk. Putting on a burst of speed, he grabbed for the cloth and began to swarm up the back of the alien’s clothing—if it was clothing, he thought—to try and reach Whitney.

  The creature was bipedal and walking upright so it was quite a climb but he made it at last and found himself perched on its immense shoulder. Looking down, he could see Whitney curled in a loop of its snaky appendage, which looked very much like an elephant’s trunk, now that he came to think of it. The thing also had vast, fanlike ears as big as a king-sized bed on either side of its lumpy features and small, bright eyes which were presently trained on its prisoner.

  Whitney saw him standing there, swaying with each lumbering step, but instead of looking relieved, she looked worried.

  “Don’t shoot it, Rafe!” she yelled, waving at him frantically with the one arm which was free of the blue trunk curled around her body. Rafe saw that somehow she had held onto her MMD—the clunky silver data collector grasped tightly in her hand. “Don’t shoot—it’s sentient.”

  “What?” he demanded. It was only a single word but it would have been better if he hadn’t spoken at all. Though his weight on its shoulder hadn’t made an impression, his voice did. The alien’s huge, fanlike ears twitched in response and the immense head turned ponderously so that its bright little eyes could study him.

  “Who are you?” a voice like crashing boulders asked him.

  Before he could begin to formulate an answer, an immense hand which seemed to have at least seven fingers and two thumbs was wrapped around his waist.

  “Hey—let me down!” Rafe shouted at it as it held him up to eye level to look at him more closely.

  “Are you this little female tweedle’s mate?” the inhumanly deep voice asked again as its head, as large as a small hill, cocked to one side to consider him.

  Rafe took a deep breath. Clearly the thing was too big to fight but he could understand its words, so maybe he could make it understand his. After all, the translation bacteria was supposed to work both ways. He was one of the few Kindred who had had it, though it usually wasn’t necessary for Kindred because his kind were so quick to learn native languages. However, now he was glad he had—there was no time to try and learn what the creature was saying when their lives were on the line.

  “I am not her mate, I am her Protector,” he said, frowning at the alien. “And you had better put us both down right now or you’re going to be in a world of pain!”

  The huge creature started and nearly dropped him, its eyes—with irises as big as basketballs—going wide.

  “You talked!” it exclaimed, staring at him. “Mama says tweedles can’t talk—you aren’t supposed to do that!”

  “We aren’t tweedles, we’re people!” Whitney shouted at it, but the alien only looked at her in apparent incomprehension.

  “Tweedles can’t be peoples,” it said decisively. “Nuh-uh. No way and no how!”

  The hand holding Rafe was fairly close to the trunk-like appendage which was grasping Whitney at that point so they could at least talk without shouting.

  “I think it’s a child,” Whitney said to him. “Listen to its speech patterns.”

  “I don’t care what it is—we need to get away from it,” Rafe growled. “If we don’t, the gods only know how far it will take us from the ship! We might never get back!”

  But how such an escape was to be managed, he had no idea. It seemed clear that Whitney was right—they were being held by an alien child and not a very old one at that. Unless they could convince it to let them go, they were stuck.

  Rafe decided to try reasoning again.

  “Let us go now or you’re going to be in big trouble,” he threatened.

  “You’re the one who’s going to be in trouble! Tweedles is not supposed to talk,” the child retorted. Suddenly the hand holding Rafe tightened until his ribs creaked. At the same time, he sa