Page 58 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

“I am here,” he says.

His voice is too controlled. The kind of calm people use when their bodies have become negotiations they can’t trust.

The kedi lands on a rib of ruined metal half-buried in the sand. It crouches there, tail lashing, eyes fixed on Rhazek’s throat.

“It likes the glow,” Lio says.

“Wonderful,” I say. “Our enemy built bait for a kedi.”

Rhazek’s mouth tightens. “It is attracted to the pulse.”

“So are you.”

“Yes.”

No excuse. No softening. Just the awful accuracy of him.

The kedi chirps again, pleased with its audience, and darts away before Syin can close the distance. Orek blocks the next gap. The creature scrambles up a wall too steep for human feet, wings fluttering to lighten each leap. Sand sprays. Little claw marks flash and vanish.

Maro skids to a stop below it. “Curse it.”

“It’s enjoying that,” Lio says.

“It should enjoy being helpful,” Maro snaps.

“It’s a kedi,” Lio answers.

Orek mutters something in Zmaj.

“What?” I ask.

“In old hunts,” he says, not taking his eyes off the ledge, “kedis were used to distract guster.”

I look at the small striped menace currently using a galactic tracker as a toy.

“That explains far too much and not nearly enough.”

The kedi drops the tracker onto the ledge. For one perfect breath, every one of us believes the critter has become reasonable. Then it bats the metal bead with one paw.

The tracker rolls along the stone. The kedi pounces after it, scoops it back into its mouth, and glides down into the next wash. Maro makes a sound that may be prayer or surrender.

“Stop chasing it,” I say.

Syin twists toward me. “It is escaping.”

“No. It’s playing.”

“That is not better.”

“It is if we stop playing the game.”

The kedi vanishes behind a curved slab of rust-black hull. The tracker pulse dampens. The sphere in my hand gives a weak blink, then nothing.

My fear sharpens. “Nobody run.”

“Kessa,” Syin says.

“Trust me or don’t, but stop moving like prey.”