Shifter Planet Page 5

  “Except the trees,” she said deliberately, testing his reaction.

  He surprised her, though. He huffed a laugh, as if she’d said something ridiculously naive. “I think you’ll find the Green far less profitable than you think.”

  She blinked. The most unique forest for light years around, and he wasn’t the tiniest bit worried that it might be despoiled.

  “I think you’re probably right,” she conceded, feeling as if she had to redeem herself for even suggesting otherwise. “I love your trees, though. I’m hoping to get out into the Green as much as I can while we’re here. Maybe do some camping.”

  “Not without an escort you won’t. It’s not safe.”

  “I’ve trekked through worse.”

  “I doubt it. Trust me on this.”

  “You’ll just have to go camping with me, then.”

  “Or you could limit your explorations, since you won’t be here that long anyway.”

  “Again with the kicking me off the planet. I might stay just to piss you off.”

  He studied her solemnly, then closed the small distance between them and rested one hand on her hip, his expression the determined look of a man facing his doom. He left his hand there for a heartbeat, then sighed, and gave her a smile of such relief that she knew he’d been steeling himself for the kind of jolt they’d both felt earlier, when they’d held hands.

  She could have told him they probably needed to be skin-to-skin for that kind of heat, but since she didn’t know quite what to make of it either, she let him enjoy his relief.

  “You don’t want to piss me off, Amanda,” he said, his voice soft and deep.

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Had she ever known a man whose moods shifted so easily? She looked up at him, and had to brace herself with one hand on his chest. It was that or fall over. His eyes gleamed in the low light of the patio, untamed and dangerous. It was more than their unusual color. They were the eyes of a wild thing, a predator sizing her up for dinner.

  Some women might have been intimidated, frightened even. Not her.

  Her heart sped up, but it wasn’t in fear. She’d never met a man so intensely masculine. It called to everything feminine inside of her and, suddenly, she didn’t give a damn if she got burned. She wanted him.

  “Rhodry,” she whispered. “Do you—”

  “Amanda!” Fionn’s happy cry interrupted whatever she’d been about to say. She wasn’t sure herself what it would have been. It died unsaid as Fionn’s voice hit like a splash of cold water. Rhodry stepped back immediately, his expression closing down tighter than it had been all evening. He was back to the glowering Rhodry of the landing field when she’d first arrived.

  “What’s this, de Mendoza?” Fionn said cheerfully, strolling over to join them. “Hogging the beautiful women?”

  “I doubt there’s a shortage in the city,” he said coolly.

  “I already know all of them. I don’t know Amanda.” He drew out her name playfully, coming close enough to drape an arm around her shoulders. He was much easier with casual touching than Rhodry was, but it wasn’t him that she wanted.

  “Come on, darling,” Fionn persisted, tugging her back toward the ballroom. “You’ve spent all your time dancing with Rhodi here. You have to dance with me now. It’s only fair.”

  She glanced at Rhodry, caught the flex of muscle in his jaw as he stared at Fionn’s arm.

  “It’s awfully late,” she protested, but he wasn’t listening, and Rhodry wasn’t saying anything.

  Fionn opened the glass-paned door to the ballroom and drew her inside. “One dance. You’re supposed to make nice with the locals, right? One dance.”

  She sighed. He was right. “One dance,” she agreed. The too warm, perfumed air of the ballroom hit her in the face, and she looked back over her shoulder, searching the cool night shadows. Hoping Rhodry would wait for her.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Five

  The détente between Nakata’s fleet and the people of Harp lasted two days. Since being summoned to the city by Cristobal, Rhodry had spent all of his free time down at the Guild Hall. It wasn’t the same as living in the Devlin family compound surrounded by his cousins, but at least it was a place for people who shared his love of the Green and its wild nature. And the hall’s location at the forest’s edge made it more convenient than the palace when it came time to run patrols, or when he simply needed to run among the trees and try to forget Amanda.

  This morning, he was running a training hunt for some of the younger hunters. Everyone born on Harp learned the basics of survival in the Green, and this particular group consisted mostly of teenaged hunters who hoped to pass the rigorous trials necessary for Guild membership. The Guild served a critical role on Harp, in some ways making life here possible. And as a result, they dominated almost every aspect of Harp society. Even the Ardrigh was always a Guild member.

  The teenagers training with Rhodry today hoped to join that rarified group. First they’d have to pass a trial that was designed to weed out all except the strongest candidates. Their ability to survive on their own in the deepest part of the Green, where no one but experienced guildsmen ever went, would be key. And that meant they needed to learn every trick there was to hunting on their own.

  Rhodry was one of the best hunters on Harp. Even his enemies would acknowledge that. Though they would probably refuse to admit the wider truth that all of the best hunters were clansmen. Be that as it may, the powers that be in the Guild Hall were taking advantage of his forced presence in the city to run these training classes on the finer points of the hunt.

  It was mid-morning when he dropped from a thick tree branch high above the forest floor, with the ease of long practice. He bit back a grin as one of the students tried to copy his move and nearly broke his leg in the landing. The kid had courage, though. His leg wasn’t broken, but it had to be hurting him, and still he managed to gain his feet and limp over to sit down without whining about it. He made note of the young man’s name. He’d check on him later, and remember him for future hunts. Most hunting was done in teams, and a good team was only as strong as its weakest member.

  One by one the rest of his class dropped down into the clearing, though none of them tried to imitate his maneuver. When all seven of them were seated in a group, ready to hear his assessment of their performance, he eyed them silently. There was a gap of a few years between the oldest and youngest. The younger ones probably wouldn’t attempt the Guild trials for a few years yet, while the oldest no doubt intended to sign up at the end of the month. The trials involved a lot of preparation followed by written exams, and practical tests of skill and survival. The young hunter who’d tried to mimic Rhodry’s graceful landing was right in the middle of the group. Not quite old enough to go this year, almost certainly a candidate in next year’s trials.

  “Okay,” he said, crouching down to their level. “Overall, this was a good run. The best yet for this group. You still need to work on coordinating as a team, but I know some of you”—he nodded at the two older teenagers—“are more concerned with solo survival during the trials, so we’ll—”

  His head came up, nostrils flaring a full second before the forest went dead silent around them, and two seconds before an enormous explosion shook the ground beneath them. Almost as one, the students jumped to their feet, eyes wide, staring around the clearing as if looking for the enemy.

  “Down!” he roared. His voice sounded even above the rolling thunder of the explosion, carrying such authority that his students dropped to their bellies where they stood. That instant obedience saved their lives when the shock wave rolled through the forest, tearing trees from their moorings and sending them flying through the clearing like kindling.

  His heart nearly stopped beating when he tapped into the trees’ song to find out what disaster had struck, and heard nothing except dead silence. He sucked in a horrified breath, and before his lungs had finished filling, the voice of the pla
net was back in a discordant wail of pain and rage.

  “Damn them,” he muttered, and shot to his feet.

  “Arlo,” he snapped, addressing the student who’d tried to imitate his maneuver, “you get the others back to the Guild Hall and tell Orrin Brady or whatever elder you can find that I’ve gone to the site.”

  He turned to the two oldest students, the two he thought would be running their trials in the next few months. “Bain and Savion, you’re with me.”

  “Rhodry”—Arlo’s voice was shaking, but his gaze was steady—“what was that?”

  “That was our Earth friends ignoring the laws of Harp. Unfortunately, they’re not the only ones who will pay the price,” he added bitterly. “Now get going. I’m counting on you to see everyone back safely.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rhodry cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be moving fast,” he told the two going with him. “Try to keep up, but I won’t stop.”

  Before they could acknowledge his order, he was gone, racing faster than he ever had in his life, dreading what he’d find when he got there.

  He smelled the horror before he saw it. The stench of incinerated wood and flesh blew past him in the wake of a flood of animals racing from the blast site. The ash was next, a gray powder that choked the air, making it so difficult to breathe that he climbed to the highest treetops where the air was fresher. He paused long enough to be sure his young companions had followed his move, then tore onward, traveling the thick, interlocking branches overhead, crashing to the ground with more haste than grace when he saw the sunlit gap ahead which told him he’d reached the blast site.

  He hit the ground and fell to his knees, weeping unashamedly at what lay before him. The forest’s song of pain was an ache in every nerve, every muscle of his body. He knelt on the edge of a near-perfect circle of destruction, an ash-filled crater of annihilation that stretched at least a hundred yards across.

  A crashing noise told him his students had arrived, a moment before they sank down beside him.

  “What did this?” Savion asked, his voice cracking in shock.

  “Earthers,” he said dully. “The last image I picked up from the trees…they went hunting with plasma rifles. They panicked when a pack of banshee took after them, and all of them fired at once.”

  “Do you think they’re dead?”

  “If I’m right…they’re all dead, Savion. The Earthers, the banshee…and everything else.”

  He spotted movement around the ash-filled clearing and stood, assuming some other guildsmen had arrived. A flash of fleet blue caught his eye and he jumped up.

  “Stay here,” he ordered, then took to the trees again, racing around the disaster zone. It was faster than crossing it, even if he’d been willing to step into that circle of death.

  He approached carefully, remaining silent until he was no more than five yards away.

  “Come to see the damage you’ve wreaked?” he asked, his tone rough and unabashedly hostile.

  The Earther spun around, blue eyes wide with surprise.

  He froze. “Amanda?”

  “Rhodry.” She stared at him, eyes wide with shock. “There’s so much pain,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion, her face wet with tears. “Can’t you feel it?” She closed the distance between them and fisted her fingers in the loose fabric of his tunic, lifting her eyes to his in entreaty. “What can we do? I can hear—”

  She broke off on a sob. He pulled her closer, comforting her automatically, even as he struggled to make sense of everything. He’d expected a stranger, someone who would be defiant, even callous in defense of the damage the Earthers had done. He’d never expected Amanda, and he’d never expected this reaction from her. The trees had been telling him for days that she heard their voices, but this was the first time he’d truly believed it.

  His arms tightened around her, and she dropped her hands to his waist, resting her forehead on his chest, her tears soaking the thin fabric of his shirt.

  “The forest will survive,” he reassured her absently. “The grandfather is still alive out there.” He looked over her head to the center of the burned-out clearing. The remains of an ancient tree, what Harpers referred to as a grandfather tree, stood in the almost exact center of the devastation. It was little more than a raised stump at this point, but he could feel it reaching out to the rest of the forest, drawing strength and life. In a matter of hours, there would be green shoots emerging from the ashes, in weeks, the clearing would be filled with young growth, interlaced with trees and plants that would encroach from all sides. There was no such thing as empty space in the Green, at least not for long.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head as she looked up at him. “What did this?”

  He frowned. “You don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said, giving him a puzzled look, as if wondering why he’d expect her to.

  “It was your own people. They ignored our laws, smuggled plasma rifles onto the planet, and then panicked when they were attacked. This is the result,” he finished bitterly.

  “My—” Her face cleared of all expression as she dropped her hands from his waist and stared up at him. “That’s why you said… You think I was a part of this? That I’d condone bringing weapons out here? That I’d risk this? You bastard.” She put both hands on his chest and shoved hard enough that it pushed him back a step. She was stronger than she looked.

  He didn’t have a comeback to her accusations. He could have told her the truth, that he hadn’t known it was her when he’d said those things, that he’d never have said it otherwise. Because he didn’t think she’d had anything to do with this disaster. No one whom the trees chose to favor with their song could ever do something like this.

  Someone from her fleet had done it, though. The Earthers had brought death to Harp, just as he’d feared they would. He ached with the confused pain of the grandfather tree that was just now coming back to awareness, and he hardened his heart against whatever personal feelings had made him want to believe anything else of their visitors. The Earthers had no place on Harp, and neither did Amanda.

  It would be better for everyone if this disaster forced them to leave sooner, if some good could be salvaged from tragedy.

  He didn’t explain, didn’t apologize, didn’t try to make her feel better about him. He simply hid behind the remote expression that was second nature to the child who’d spent too many years in his grandfather’s joyless house.

  “I need to inform my Guild of what’s happened. And I imagine you have your own report to make.”

  Her blue eyes flashed with anger. She wasn’t hiding behind anything. She stared at him as she swiped away her tears, and stiffened into a formal posture.

  “As an officer of the United Earth Fleet, I offer my apology for today’s events. Admiral Nakata will be informed at once, and I have no doubt that he will contact the Ardrigh personally.”

  Her eyes met his in a final defiant glare, then without a word, she spun on her heel and headed into the trees at a run.

  He watched her go, thinking he’d never see her again, ignoring the pang of loss that stabbed his chest at the thought. If nothing else, the explosion would probably signal the end of crew visits from Nakata’s fleet. He knew he should be happy about that.

  So, why wasn’t he?

  Cursing, he lifted his head and gave the piercing whistle that would call his trainees to his location, and together they took off for the Guild Hall. Cristobal would need their firsthand accounts before Admiral Nakata called.

  Chapter Six

  Two days later Rhodry stood at Cristobal’s side as Admiral Nakata offered an official apology on behalf of the entire United Earth Fleet for the recent tragedy. Amanda was in Nakata’s party, standing stiff and formal, two steps behind her leader. She didn’t say a word, didn’t so much as glance in his direction.

  Cristobal listened somberly, sitting on his throne-like chair and not stirr
ing until Nakata finished speaking. And then he rose, took the single step down from the dais and waited until the Earth admiral came forward and offered his hand. They shook solemnly and to all appearances that was it.

  He knew what others didn’t, that Cristobal and Nakata had already met privately before this public display that was so necessary. Every person on Harp was reeling from the damage that had been done, but none more than the guildsmen who felt the forest’s pain as if it were their own. It took a concentrated effort to shunt it aside enough to focus on other things. And all of Harp was agitating for blood from the Earthers. The Green was a part of all of them.

  Cristobal and Nakata’s earlier meeting had focused primarily on the details of the fleet’s departure. Neither of them wanted to repudiate the earlier agreement regarding the shuttle base and Harp’s inclusion in Earth’s regular trade route. Both had agreed that some acceleration of the timetable was in order. They’d agreed that Nakata’s fleet would break orbit within the week, with a small team of techs remaining behind to finish installation of the computer center and train Harpers in its use and maintenance.

  He wasn’t thrilled with that last part. No Earthers on Harp would have been better. The still-raw wound in the Green was evidence of that, if nothing else. But no one had invited his opinion, and even he couldn’t deny the benefits the new computers would bring to the planet.

  With the formal ceremony complete, Nakata gathered his people, including Amanda, and departed without fanfare. A suitable Guild escort was waiting outside to make sure they got safely back to their shuttle and off the planet. The safely part applying more to the planet’s well-being than to any threat to their visitors.

  He watched them go, happy to see the back end of the fleet, wishing he and Amanda had parted on better terms. Or that they’d had more time together before she left. Maybe it was better this way. In a few days, she’d be light years away, and that would be it.