"The message was brief; the Dargons are attacking by air, using exploders so they can target specific people. It seems they are trying to pick off the crew, leaving the women unharmed. Kidnapping seems the likely motive."

"Do we have enough power to trans over, Sycor? The women will not last thirty minutes under Dargon care." Zorroc began reviewing options in his head. They could not leave the women on Zeba II unprotected but the Dargons may have pinpointed the location of their party, as well, which could leave Catarina and the others at risk; bringing them into the battle, however, seemed equally as repugnant. Cat had to be protected at all costs; she could be carrying the next leader of Gattonia.

"We have enough if we leave the supplies behind, it is our only option, Zorroc, no matter the risks; the women must be kept safe," Sycor stated, glancing past him as Cat emerged from the tent, watching the three curiously.

"We may be the difference between their safety and their death, we are among the strongest telepaths and marksmen on this mission. It is our only choice," Bandoff proffered, dipping his head in the Gattonian gesture indicating deference. Though unaccustomed to voicing his thoughts, the COM he intercepted minutes before, sufficiently prodded him into speaking his opinion. They had to save the women at all costs. He glanced at Zorroc and knew he saw the truth of it. Zorroc turned and focused hard on Cat, told the other two to prepare the women, and headed toward those emerald eyes darting questions at him.

"Our enemies, the Dargons, have found our party on Zeba II, Prolinc and Dee are among them. We are preparing to trans everyone over as soon as possible; they need a.s.sistance." He put his hands on her shoulders and began to ma.s.sage her gently, messaging that everything would work out to their favor. Gattonians were excellent warriors. Suddenly, Cat stiffened to her full 5'3", grabbed him by his uniform, and started issuing demands.

"I'm not going anywhere without a weapons lesson. If I show up not knowing how to use one, these Dargon creatures will never get a shot at me; Dee will kill me first; and who are these erasers and what do they want with us. This is not some random little happening; these guys are rabid for your hides. What have you gotten us into? You can start explaining while you take me for a little target practice; this is not open to negotiation, Zorroc, so get that determined look off your face right now."

She stared him down, daring him to ignore her wishes this time. If the situation were not so serious, her fierceness would have amused him.

He sighed. "The weapons are difficult to master, Catarina, I could not teach you in time." He actually looked sorry he could not comply with her request. "The Dargons are our enemies. They are destroyers of worlds; it is their sole purpose, so far as we can determine. They want Gattonia and eventually all of Ganz. We have been the recipient of their tactics for more than a year." He closed his eyes in tired anguish and concluded. "The virus that attacked our females was infused into our atmosphere by the Dargons; their latest contribution to viral warfare. It attacks a female's reproductive organs...sterilization, its most far reaching though not worst side-effect." He could not bear the growing confusion and denial clearly reflected in her wide, innocent eyes yet he continued, deciding to deliver the blow in one Herculean implosion.

"We have mated with your species for centuries as you know and have produced many offspring with you. Your planet, in addition, has been polluted with many varying viral strains over time and the impact on child bearing and birth defects seem to have had a minimal effect on your species. Your immune systems are able to handle these poisons much more efficiently than our own since Ganz has been free of pollutants and sickness for many centuries. The tests we have conducted on your environment, though not conclusive, suggest that your bodies could successfully fight off the virus. These two factors of compatibility and evolutionary adjustments to disease make the women of Earth ideal for our purposes. And that, my little Cat, is the short version of what has brought us to this circ.u.mstance." He gave her a half smile of self-loathing and messaged his understanding that he had most likely damaged any chance of her future regard.

Several moments pa.s.sed while Cat studied Zorroc and then one side of her mouth kicked up into a rueful grin. "So much for clean air," she registered aloud.

"A weapons lesson, Zorroc, it's the least you owe me." He gave her a measured, defeated look, drew his weapon, and instructed her for the next ten minutes.

Chapter Nine.

They arrived into an area surrounded by boulders, the women gathered in the center, in p.r.o.ne position, while the Gattonians lined the perimeter, guarding the females and shooting at the enemy. Dee, of course, had weapon in hand, causing a good bit of damage from what Cat could observe until she saw her and jumped up to grip her friend in a fierce hug. "Thank G.o.d you're safe, I was worried despite Prolinc's a.s.surances. Did you get a weapons lesson, we could use the help," she finished in her usual matter of fact way.

"d.a.m.n Dee, you stink, what did you do, soak in a pool of dung?"

"I got coated with Dargon innards, it's a long story but right now we need to destroy these giant dragonflies, grab a weapon and let's get to it, you do know how to use one of these don't you?"

"I've got it covered, sort of," the last uttered under her breath, as she spotted a small cache of unused blazers protected by a clump of rocks. Cat dove for one, positioned herself next to Dee, and proceeded to practice what Zorroc had demonstrated only a few moments before. It took a little time to master the intricacies of aim, weight, and balance but eventually she succeeded in hitting her targets more than not.

"Wow, these guys look like flying Gorns from that Star Trek episode, don't they. Remember the one where Kirk gets stranded on a strange planet with this large, ugly, scaly creature and they have to fight it out only Kirk won't kill him?"

"You truly are certifiable Cat, shut-up, aim, and fire," Dee stated with suppressed humor. Cat never failed to lighten the worst situation; they'd been under attack for close to two hours and things had been looking pretty bleak, but with the added firepower and her friend beside her, her energy returned.

"So, how's the explosive duo making-out, has he bludgeoned down your door and crawled into the honey pot yet?" Cat teased as she squeezed off another charge. Cat watched Dee blush and scowl while Prolinc glanced over and leered his best cat smile to let her know he had overheard and understood.

Dee decided to get a little of her own back and inquired sweetly, "Who's been chewing on your neck, Cat, is your kitty really a wolf in cat's clothing?"

"As you can see, my cat man has been doing some bludgeoning of his own," she tossed back, inordinately pleased with herself as she popped another Dargon out of the sky.

The revelations leveled by Zorroc answered many of Cat's questions concerning his position and responsibility and how they had landed in their current predicament. He obviously had been charged with the task of saving his race, an awesome and nearly impossible feat. It rea.s.sured, rather than discouraged her that Zorroc had been the one chosen with the duty of balancing the women's safety and welfare against his obligation to his people. The two must seem diametrically opposed, at times. No wonder he emanated both unrelenting control and weary resignation. What an overwhelming challenge for one so relatively young. It probably explained why, sometimes, he looked the picture of autocratic superiority, and at others, more like an angry panther, trapped in a cage.

Zorroc witnessed Cat's talent at weaponry and cursed himself for being an arrogant fool. He should have known her declaration of arms use would prove no idle boast. His woman was no ordinary female; he would have to acclimate himself to her way of expressing herself and take nothing at face value. She looked totally at ease with their situation as if she had been a part of his world, and life forever. She was an odd mixture of vulnerability and resiliency and his heart squeezed with unfamiliar tenderness and another emotion he could not name. She did not look defeated by his confession; in truth, she acted relieved. Would he ever understand this female?

One heated gaze followed Zorroc's every move. So far, Sandra had been totally thwarted in her efforts to seduce Zorroc. The other cat men had been easy enough to control, giving her their full attention again and again; why not him? How could she steal his attention from that little b.i.t.c.h? They appeared glued at the hip but there had to be some way to separate them. She'd overheard a conversation between two of the crewmembers and learned that Zorroc wielded a lot of power among his people; if she had to be permanently stuck on some G.o.d forsaken planet, she would do it first cla.s.s.

Her mother had dragged her to every charm school and beauty pageant to groom her little girl for the life of leisure they both craved. Sandra counted herself an expert at reclining her way to the top, using any means at her disposal to fulfill her appetence. The Gattonians served as interchangeable widgets to use for her pleasure or to do her bidding. Her mother couldn't help her here, but she'd have no difficulty arranging things to her satisfaction. Obviously, these flying monsters had no interest in harming the women; they steered unerringly clear of them and instead concentrated on the Gattonians. Having Zorroc rescue a damsel in distress would suit her purposes very well.

Sandra knew what it took to dominate men; their larger brain resided below their waist and it fell to her to lead them by it.

Timing was everything, she told herself as she scanned Zorroc's location and her surroundings, looking for the right time to act. She waited until the last possible moment then ran screaming from the protective circle, catching Zorroc's eye in the process. She wanted it to look as if she had panicked, and she got the exact result she had counted on. He surged after her, tackling her some ten feet from the boulders protecting her body with his.

The Dargons reacted quickly trying to pick Zorroc off and grab the female. Suddenly Cat appeared, standing over them guarding their backs.

As one came straight for them, she braced herself for a precise hit when another surprised her, s.n.a.t.c.hing her from behind. Cat and the Dargon rose quickly heading away from the melee. She looked down to see Zorroc neutralize the other Dargon.

She aimed her weapon at her captor's head. "Land now and get your d.i.n.ky little arms off me or I'll blow your snout off, buster," she bluffed. He snorted and knocked the blazer out of her hand. If she'd taken him out, the fall would almost certainly have killed her and he knew it. She'd have to bide her time. An absurd thought struck her; the scene below looked a lot like the flying monster monkeys that grabbed Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

"Catarina, look around and get your bearings, you have to tell me where they are taking you, stay calm and think clearly." Zorroc broke into her thoughts. He gnashed his teeth in frustration. He had to let her go; it was too dangerous to fire. What had the little fool been thinking; could she not stay out of trouble for one moment? Every time he let her out of his sight, she charged h.e.l.l bent into another disaster. Why could she not just stay where he put her? When he got her back, he would give her an obedience lesson in...well, obedience; he would train her to never endanger herself or disobey his wishes in the future.

She had risked her life to protect him; she truly was mind-blasted. He had kidnapped her, practically forced her compliance, set her up to enable him to kidnap her two best friends along with seventy some other women, put her life in jeopardy on more than one occasion; and how did she repay him? She would die for him.

Zorroc grabbed Sandra and sprinted back to the group shouting orders for Prolinc and Sycor to follow him. He dumped Sandra unceremoniously on the ground, barely sparing her a look of unveiled disgust.

"What weapons do we have on the Pods that may be of use to end this quickly?" Zorroc asked, his fear for Cat growing with each second.

"We should have known that she-devil would pull something like this, you should have let her go, Zorroc, she would have caused more damage to the Dargons than any weapon in our a.r.s.enal," Sycor spat caustically. The woman had acid for blood; Sycor had seen through her from the first and felt dirty that he had lain with her, directive or no directive.

Prolinc had always admired Sycor for his easy, relaxed manner with everyone, especially females, so it surprised him greatly to hear Sycor's scathing vehemence toward Sandra. "She just panicked, Sycor, it happens. I'm sure she feels badly that her actions caused this situation."

"All that woman has wanted from the beginning is to get her claws into Zorroc, and the only thing preventing that, to her way of thinking, has been Catarina. I am sure she could not have known Cat would be taken because of her actions but I am equally as sure she does not feel badly about it," Sycor persisted then turned to Zorroc and detailed the munitions available.

"The Launcher is the most effective tool to end this, however, it contains but one charge and once deployed we will be vulnerable should future conflict persist or strengthen," Prolinc stated.

"We will deal with that problem when it occurs. Sycor, get to the Pod and fire at will, I want those Dargons blasted into Hades. Afterwards, we will meet to discuss how to rescue my loco little flame." With that Zorroc turned and began firing with ruthless determination, Sycor ran for the hidden Pod and Prolinc returned to his place beside Dee to fill her in on their plan.

It had not gone according to plan, Sandra acknowledged, that stupid little b.i.t.c.h had tagged along after them and gotten herself kidnapped. Cat always managed to get in her way. She smiled; believing the chances better than average that after the flying monsters finished playing with her, death would follow. An unforeseen benefit lay inherent in every situation, after all, and she deserved the break. Sandra had tried her best to look contrite and helpless giving Zorroc her best pout but he'd turned away before he could appreciate the full effect.

Dee approached Zorroc and softly asked, "What will they do to her, Zorroc, will they harm her, eat her, use her?" He looked into Dee's worried, almost frantic eyes and wished he could give her a better answer.

"I do not know Dee, but we are linked together with our minds and she is tracking where they are taking her so we can rescue her."

"Jesus, Zorroc, you're talking about the most directionally challenged female on Earth, she can and does get lost everywhere she goes, you'd better come up with a better plan than that," she snorted taking her place next to Prolinc and firing repeatedly in an effort to veil Sycor's coming surprise.

Cat and her sticky captor traversed some mountains, and a sun, or moon, or whatever it was, appeared to her left. The Dargon had her in a vice like grip leaving her free to glance around at the pa.s.sing terrain and mindspeak it back to Zorroc.

"You are doing just fine, sweet one, Dee told me your sense of direction is not the best so do not worry about north or south just concentrate on landmarks and distance."

Cat had the urge to laugh at the bizarreness of his statement. North and south remained foreign concepts to her in Nashville, what would make him think she could figure it out on this, three mooned, yellow-skied bewilderness. "We're coming down on the other side of the mountain and heading toward a clearing surrounded by ma.s.sive trees on three sides. The trees are tall enough to stand out from the rest of the area; it should make a decent landmark. We have been traveling very fast, Zorroc, I can't tell how far-and tell Dee to stop spreading those vicious tales about me. We' ve landed, there is a cave built into the side of the mountain and fairly well hidden by the trees and brush. Tell me you got all that," she concluded while being escorted, in a rather courtly fashion, to a cavernous room.

A platform built into the side of one wall the size of a queen size bed, took up one side of the room while a ledge that could pa.s.s for a table, protruded from the opposite wall. Zorroc mindspoke that he had received her message and would let her know when they were ready to come collect her.

"What is your name, child?" the Dargon inquired politely. These female earth creatures, Gorn a.s.sessed, were puny, weak and odorless beings, not worth their notice under ordinary circ.u.mstances, but if this favor would ensure the acquisition of Gattonia for them, it would be a small enough price to pay.

His English sounded guttural and not easy to understand but it surprised her that he spoke it. "How did you come to speak English?" Cat wanted to know, decidedly reluctant to identify herself. She needed to a.s.sess her situation before cooperating with this ugly, stinky cross between a rhinoceros and dragon. At about eight feet tall, three feet wide and covered with brownish-black large slimy scales, he took up most the room and emitted a nauseating stench. His legs and feet, close to the same circ.u.mference, looked like sawed off tree trunks. His wings were large, extending from his shoulders almost to the ground when he had them closed, as they were now. His arms, about the size of Zorroc's, looked out of proportion with the rest of his body. His face, she noted, only a mother could stomach, or another Dargon. He had a snout that took up most of his face and beady little eyes that examined her as closely as she scrutinized him.

"We Dargons are not barbarians, we are familiar with many languages, English being one. Now I would have your name if you please."

Well, he was polite, she'd give him that, but why did he care about her name? Zorroc messaged not to divulge her ident.i.ty, and told her the other Dargons had started back her way and he would follow shortly with a team to retrieve her.

"Gertrude," Cat stated openly while pretending to observe her environment, "but my friends call me Gerty." She finished with a glowing smile.

"That is unfortunate, we search for another," he responded, giving her a calculated look and a grimace that she a.s.sumed was supposed to pa.s.s for a smile.

"What's her name, maybe I know her," she inquired, wondering how they knew the names of any of the women and why they were looking for one of them.

"It is not important for you to know the one we seek," the rhino-roach told her as he shuffled toward the opening.

Gorn snorted in disgust. The female, overly brash and insubstantial, would, no doubt, split apart on his very first thrust. There would be short-lived pleasure from her, he snorted. They would find the one they sought, when the others returned with the rest of the females. Gattonians were no match for the powerful Dargons.

"Wait," she called too loudly, "I gave you my name, what's yours?"

He paused, turned, and stared at her with one beady eye. "I am called Gorn."

Cat choked and sputtered hoping to disguise her laughter. "Oh...well...thank you," she ended, positive he would not see the humor his name evoked. He turned back to her a second time and stared, before turning and securing the door behind him.

Alone at last, she wondered how long it'd take for the stench to dissipate. She sat on the platform surface and began, what she a.s.sumed, would be a long wait. She hoped they were vegetarians.

Of all the names in the universe, he had to be called Gorn, what were the odds on that, she wondered idly, trying to keep her fear under control. What a bizarre set of weeks it had been; this const.i.tuted the first moment she had to reflect on all that had transpired. Her thoughts drifted to Angel and the aunts, wondering how they fared. It still hurt that her parents had set her up to be kidnapped and mated. She touched the side of her neck for the bite mark Zorroc had left; it would be a permanent reminder of the first time she made love. He'd branded her his by more than just the mark though; he'd employed touches and words and deeds as well. He'd infused her being like a drug and it had taken a surprisingly short time for her to become addicted. She wondered if he suffered the same as she, after all, one good addiction certainly deserved another. She wanted nothing so much as to feel him inside her again, penetrating her with his warmth and strength. She hadn't had a prayer from the beginning; snared in this unbreakable net of love. Sometimes he seemed just as smitten but it was difficult for her to gauge; he could turn it off so quickly, she wondered if it wasn't just a role he played to amuse himself.

She was, after all, just a p.a.w.n in the game of 'Can This Race Be Saved'; she couldn't kid herself that he would have even looked at her if not for her Gattonian blood. What a terrible reason to be wanted. Now she knew what it felt like to be in an arranged marriage. It wouldn't matter if he was attracted to her or not, he'd force himself, and her, to tangle as frequently as necessary in order to provide heirs. And as she'd learned, he took his responsibilities very seriously. She just hoped she counted as one of them, surveying the cold darkening den. Would it really matter to him if she didn't survive or would he simply consider it a minor inconvenience and move onto Sandra?

She was doing it again, Zorroc noted with severe frustration-she was thinking! He sat in a meeting to determine the best way to extricate Cat from the Dargons but it proved hard for him to concentrate with her little female brain zinging at lightening speed to all the wrong conclusions. Zazu, they were mated; he could not get more committed than that. He had no understanding of the dianetics of love but certainly had a close acquaintance with its destructive after effects. He only had to point to his father. She had his protection, infinitely better than love and safer for both of them. Of course, if she thought she loved him, she would be easier to control; people in love did all sorts of stupid things they would not normally consider in order to please their mate. Maybe he would encourage this love of hers. He could not, however, acknowledge how her love affected him; that it filled a gaping hole within him and made him warm inside, that he felt whole when he held her closely to him.

"Zorroc, your attention please," Prolinc demanded for the third time.

"He has been doing that a lot lately," Sycor supplied helpfully, "I think he is becoming obsessed with his crazy little flame and his lower region."

Zorroc snarled at Sycor and then gave his full attention to Prolinc. "The safest and surest way to get her out safely would be to pod over and transhift her out once we are sure of her location; have you put a locator on her?"

"Yes, it is in her suit, she should be easy to detect once we get close enough. Will the Dargons be able to identify our presence? It will be dangerous to take her while under attack," he added unnecessarily. Zorroc silently thanked Zazu for his foresight in bugging her environ suit and prayed that she still resided in it when they reached her.

"One of our Pods has cloaking features, we will un-cloak only for the short time it takes to bring her aboard," Prolinc responded. "Can you still read her, we need to be sure that she is prepared and preferably alone. I hope that we can be on our way before they realize she is missing which brings us to the next problem. They know our location and will surely retaliate, but this time they will be very angry to have lost their prey. There is not time to both move the camp and get to Catarina, what are your orders." Prolinc finished looking grim.

"We received a COM while you were staging your daring rescue of the fair Sandra," Sycor managed with a perfectly straight face. Sandra was becoming a tiresome obligation among the men for her blatant availability and tireless pursuit of Zorroc. "They are very close, ETA in two point five hours, they may be able to aid us with Cat's rescue, but in any event the rest of our party will not have long to wait for a.s.sistance."

"They will probably be able to pinpoint our location easily with the explosive fire ball you threw to the Dargons, I had never seen the Launcher in action at such close range. Those who were not blown away went flying. It presented a very satisfying sight; you have my compliments, Sycor. Now let us prepare to leave. Prolinc, pick four of your finest; the rest will remain to defend the camp until the ship arrives, which one is due to arrive, Sycor?"

"The Miramid with Rosik in charge." Sycor announced, satisfactorily. Rosik, known for his ruthless tactics in battle, particularly hated Dargons; having wiped out his entire family in their initial attack.

Zorroc grinned openly and stood. "Meet me out front in five minutes." Zorroc headed for his quarters grateful that the time had come to liberate his property and get her safely back where she belonged.

"Hold on, Catarina, we are coming," he mindspoke, moving quickly to prepare for departure. Nothing, she was not there, Zazu, they needed to hurry.

Dee cornered Prolinc as he exited the tent, determined to be in on the rescue of her friend as well as back up for Prolinc, but before she could present her case, he grabbed her around her waist and kissed her hard to keep her from speaking. He had noted her determination and resoluteness; he had seen it chiseled plainly in her slate gray eyes. His choice was made; he had been toying with the idea of having her in the party, she was a fierce warrior and an excellent marksman but in a moment of rare introspection, he knew it had more to do with wanting her with him; needing to protect her. He ended the kiss and told her she would be among the team leaving directly to retrieve her friend. Her stormy eyes cleared to crystal silver as they headed toward the Pod. He cared for this impossible Earth female.

Cat knew she had scant moments before losing all semblance of control, caught between hilarity and horror at the scene unfolding before her. Gorn had returned dressed in a cape and a knife and nothing else. G.o.d, she thought they defined ugly and smelly before-someone needed to introduce these guys to soap and water, and the way he pounded around spreading his scent wasn't helping either. He looked like an ungainly, upside-down tree trunk flapping his wings in time to his elephant feet hitting the ground. The whole place shook. This could not be good she realized; in performing the ritual dance, his bobbing appendage had increased to immense proportions. Either he was getting turned-on at the prospect of killing her or he wanted her body for some other purpose. She had a feeling it might involve the later. Finally, he stopped in front of her, as if waiting for some response. Oh, double p.o.o.p popsicles. What could she do to disarm him and make him go away without killing her or worse? She didn't think she'd live through either experience; the spike between his legs had grown to the size of her thigh. It was now or never. She jumped to her feet, clapping wildly. "Brilliant, what a performance!" she shouted loudly, making all the noise she could. "Rousing simply rousing." Dear fairy G.o.dmother; now would be an excellent time for a miracle. Zorroc, are you out there?

If a Dargon could look surprised, this guy looked dumbstruck, clearly at a loss as to how to proceed. And to top it off he looked embarra.s.sed...as well he should with a technique like his. He exited the cave with his cape flying behind him; she would not have believed a being could move that fast on tree trunks.

She prayed he would not be back.

"Zorroc, get me out of here, this guy is getting amorous!" she mind-thought, hoping she wasn't too panicked for him to understand her predicament.

"Catarina, you are almost impossible to read, calm yourself and think clearly, you have been unreadable for some time now, have they hurt you?" he demanded, reverberating in her mind, deafeningly.

"I've got her Prolinc, but she is in trouble, we have to hurry or it will be too late; is her signal on screen, yet?" He glanced over Prolinc's shoulder to get a first hand look at the too quiet tracking instrument. They had taken off minutes before and were traveling toward the mountain Cat had described. The only Pod with cloaking features happened to be the one with the expended Launcher. Zorroc hoped there would not be more trouble than they could handle, things could get touchy.

"We will reach her in time, you can read her?" Prolinc asked while fine-tuning to a modified direction.

"Barely, I know she is trying to communicate but she is so frantic; very little is coming through. She will survive this, Prolinc," Zorroc intoned fiercely as he paced in what was fast becoming a habit with him, since the appearance of Cat in his life.

Cat sat down cross-legged on the floor of the cave, striving to control her mounting panic. In her present state of mind she couldn't even help herself let alone communicate with Zorroc, at least to let him know how much she loved him and that she wasn't sorry he had taken her. She focused on the way he petted her when trying to calm her, the way he'd run his hands over her arms, back and b.u.t.tocks, soothing her while he spoke softly, a.s.suring her that everything would be alright, she wanted to hear those words again more than life itself.

"Everything will be alright, my cream, I won't let anything happen to you and when I see you again, I will hold you and pet you until you tire of the attention," he whispered into her mind like a gentle breeze, rea.s.suring her as nothing else could.

"I love you, Zorroc," she admitted softly.

"I know, Catarina."

"We have her on screen," Prolinc advised. "She is eight nids due east from our position. Tell her to get ready for a fast transhift, Zorroc. Sycor, prepare to trans on my signal," he ordered, calculating quickly.

"On your signal, commander," Sycor replied.

"Zorroc, they've come for me," Cat messaged, calm now that the end grew near. Her time had definitely arrived, one way or the other.

"Stall them." His short, ordered response.

"Thank you for coming at last, I need to use the facilities; with all this excitement, my bladder is positively bursting. I'm sure that, as a guest, you wouldn't want me to be uncomfortable. Could someone please show me the way to the lavatory?" she asked in her most blatant southern drawl, all the while batting her lashes, climbing to her feet and brushing herself off. The Dargons started shuffling their feet in confusion; then one stepped forward and motioned her to follow. It had worked. He showed her outside and grunted toward a bush, so much for the facilities but maybe she would be easier to transhift this way. The Dargons began to trickle out of an adjacent cave and move slowly toward her, obviously prepared to watch while she did her business.

"Guys, I can appreciate your position, but I can't relieve myself with an audience. I cross my heart and hope to die, I will not run away, please give me some privacy," she pleaded sweetly.

They started snorting, panting and drooling as they advanced slowly toward her and began closing in. "Zorroc, I am being surrounded; please hurry."

She hoped he'd heard her, as she began backing away with her hands out in front of her in a manner to placate as well as stop them from closing in behind her. A wall of four Gattonians appeared in front her, arms raised to fire on the Dargons at point blank range while she vanished. She arrived on the trans-pad and promptly fell to her knees and then on to her b.u.t.t in a muddled, uncoordinated heap. She liked it much better when Zorroc held her, she decided, looking around as she gained her footing. Sycor stood alone behind the console; she started toward him just as the Gattonian party returned looking victorious and reeking of Dargon guts.

Recognizing Zorroc instantly, she charged him like a torpedo. He caught her in a fierce hug that told her more about her narrow escape than she wanted to know. He swung her up and started toward the panel before stopping, turning and humbly thanking the crew for their support and Cat's life. Four mouths dropped open as Zorroc proceeded out of the trans-pad room.

He began speaking non-stop, unable to help himself. He had her.

"We were unable to simply transhift you up, as we had planned, the Dargons were closing in on you too swiftly. We needed a wall of sorts to separate you.