Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The biggest problem turned out not be the dense jungle, sweltering heat, or oppressive humidity so much as Streng’s constant jabbering. The Serparnian started in with a diatribe about the evils of the Federation that continued until Serpalal’s sun began to dip below the horizon.

His entire body drenched with sweat, Brett didn’t pay any attention to the words. He focused on trying to ward off the vines as thick as his legs that seemed intent on entangling him with every step. Swatting them away with one hand, he kept the disruptor in the other trained on Streng’s head.

“Haven’t your people ever heard of roads?” Brett muttered, interrupting Streng’s harangue about the Federation’s plan to enslave the Serparnian people.

“There are no roads out in the wilds,” Streng said. “Few Serparnians ever travel out here.”

“Your family had a knack for location.”

“Indeed. The remote location ensured any intruders could be identified and dealt with swiftly.”

“Right. Then why’d you put a back door in?”

“In case of any palace intrigues my forefathers wanted to make sure they could escape.”

Brett snorted at this. Apparently Streng came from a long line of plotters and schemers. No surprise there. “So your forefathers must have been big shots back then. What happened?”

“Times changed, but soon they will change back when this disgraceful, alien-loving government is disposed of. Then I will take my rightful place as supreme ruler.”

As Streng continued with this line of thought, Brett studied Robyn. She hadn’t woke up since they entered the jungle over twelve hours ago. Her skin had turned a lifeless gray and her lips an eggplant purple. Without medical treatment, he didn’t know how much longer she would last out here.

“Stop here,” Brett said, motioning with the disruptor for Streng to set Robyn down on the spongy ground. Brett knelt down beside her, listening to her shallow breathing. The cuts along her midsection had turned an unhealthy olive color. “What did you do to her?”

“The spurs of the Slin are coated with a toxin to give the victim some incentive to talk.”

“Is there an antidote?”

“Of course. Not that it will do you much good. By sunup your female will be food for the scavengers.”

Brett leapt to his feet, pressing the disruptor into Streng’s hood. “If she dies, you die. Got that?”

“What do you think that will accomplish? Kill me and you will wander this jungle aimlessly until you are as dead as her.” Streng’s tongue flicked out with amusement. “I am the only hope you have left.”

“And I’m the only hope you have.” Brett turned up the power on the disruptor. “Let’s get this straight: I don’t care about you or your little political games. I only care about Robyn. If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure you pay.”

They glared at each other, Streng finally putting up his hands in supplication. “If we hurry we can make the outermost settlements before dawn. They should have the antidote.”

“Then let’s go. And make it quick.”

As the daylight faded, Brett found himself fighting off not just vegetation but bloodsucking insects as well. The bugs were the size of a field mouse on Earth and hopped through the brush on a pair of legs. Every so often, one tried to latch onto Brett’s ankles with suction cups on its front legs and then sink fangs into his skin. He batted them away with his free hand, then crushed them with his boot.

The insects must not have cared for the taste of Serparnian blood because they didn’t attack Streng at all. The explanation became clear when Streng scooped up one of the little bloodsuckers and jammed it into his mouth. “These are a rare delicacy in the capital. Perhaps you would like to try one?”

“No thanks. I’m on a no-bug diet.” Brett scanned the area around him for any more of the critters or something even worse.

The ground beneath his feet turned from spongy to muddy the farther they went. Water filled his boots in no time, making each step feel as if he had weights on his feet. The water deepened to knee-level, forcing Brett to slow down.

Streng didn’t have any problem with the swamp, his reptilian feet churning up the water with ease. He let Robyn float on the surface of the water, dragging her by the collar of her undershirt. “Hurry, Mr. Boutwell. It isn’t much farther.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Brett said. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up as a bad feeling washed over him again. This was a classic ambush tactic: lure the enemy onto hostile terrain where he’s at a disadvantage and then squash him like one of those little bloodsuckers. “Isn’t there some other way around this?”

Streng turned to face him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If we had more time, perhaps, but not if you want to save Captain Lichen’s life.” He motioned to the sheet of water punctuated by stands of brown grass around them. “The marshes of Snythur stretch ten of your kilometers. By the time we went around them it would be morning.”

“Lead on, then. But I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Of course. It was never my intent to kill her. I only wanted to know the size of the force her superiors would be sending in after her.” His tongue lashed out again. “Murder is for animals like Slonix.”

“Right, someone as highly involved as you needs someone to do the dirty work for him. You’re lucky he ran into you.”

“Perhaps. I found him in a refugee camp on Serpalal III, scarred and half-mad with rage at you and your Federation masters. He did not need much encouragement to join the cause.”

“Glad I could help.” In the silence that followed, Brett thought he heard something rippling through the water. Must be some kind of fish, he thought.

Then he felt something graze his leg, much too thick for a Serparnian limb. “What was that?” he asked.

Streng let Robyn go and leapt onto one of the stands of grass the moment the creature in the water wrapped itself around Brett’s waist. “That would be the Skolip, Mr. Boutwell. As much as I would like to stay to watch it devour you and Captain Lichen, I have work to do.”

“Streng!” Brett managed to scream before the Skolip yanked him under the water.