Page 59 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

Syin gives me a furious look that says he’d just as soon leap off a cliff himself, but he raises one hand. I note it for later. Like so many things, there is no time to worry about what the price was for him.

Silence spreads across the wash. Wind combs sand over stone. Far off, something clicks in the heat, probably cooling metal, probably not doom. I hope because that is exactly what doom would want me to think.

Slowly I lower myself onto one knee. The ground burns through my trousers.

I take my pack off one shoulder and open the side pocket. Inside are three miserable strips of dried meat that taste like regret and old boot leather. Emergency rations. Mine, technically. Survival does love making every good choice expensive.

“What are you doing?” Maro whispers.

“Negotiating.”

“With a kedi?”

“With the only person here who currently has what we need.”

Rhazek looks at me. Despite everything, a brief shadow of amusement touches his mouth.

“Person?” he asks.

“It has opinions and steals things. Close enough.”

I tear one strip of meat in half and toss it toward the curved slab. Not at the kedi. Near it. I was never allowed a pet on the ship, but I loved them. Or the idea of them. I watched so many vids of cats that I might be an expert. Or as expert as anyone can be with no actual cats to work with.

And a kedi looks like a cat, even if it is a winged alien one with an apocalyptic taste in toys. Like any cat I ever saw, it hates being told where to go. I’m running on a thin theory and a dim hope, but what else do we have?

For a moment nothing happens. I wait, then toss the second piece a little farther away from us.

A striped face appears upside down over the slab. Enormous blue eyes. Tiny teeth clamped around the tracker. One ear flicks.

“There you are,” I murmur. The kedi stares at the meat. Then at me. Then at the meat. Its tail twitches. “Come on,” I say softly. “Be greedy. I believe in you.”

The kedi hops down. It places one paw on the meat, never taking its eyes off me.

The tracker glows between its teeth.

Rhazek inhales through his nose. I keep my gaze on the kedi.

“Do not answer it.”

“I am trying not to.”

The kedi chews the dried strip twice, makes a disgusted little sound, and drops it.

“Rude,” Lio whispers.

“It prefers raw meat,” Orek says.

“Then it can develop a broader palate,” I say.

The kedi chirps, flicks its tail, and darts sideways. It’s testing me.

I slide my route token from my belt. The little bronze disk is scratched and worthless to anyone outside the City. I set it on the sand and spin it with one finger.

The token flashes in the sun.

The kedi’s pupils go wide.

There it is.