Marooned - Christie Golden [62]
His life had begun on a pleasant, fertile moon that had been obliterated. Now, it was about to end on a planet that seemed almost as dead as Rinax.
Furball was chirping frantically, flapping about in wild circles. It flopped down on his shoulder, landing heavily, and almost knocked a startled Neelix off balance. He stumbled. The Xians came closer. He could see their hideous faces more closely now, and for an instant, his legs turned to water and he fell heavily to his knees.
Furball was going mad on his shoulders, and actually sank tiny, needle-sharp teeth into his ear. The pain jolted through Neelix. Hard on its heels came a deep, righteous anger. He rose, clutching a handful of rocks. Furball vaulted off his shoulders into the air, flapping its furred wings.
If he was going to die, it would not be on his knees. As the Xians came on, howling with bloodlust, Neelix bellowed out his own cry of defiance. Somewhere inside him, he was surprised by its volume and timbre. He took aim and hurled one rock after another.
The first one hit a Xian square in the throat. It stumbled, gasping. The second one caught another on the temple. This one fell. The others slowed, looking uncertain.
Furball dipped and dove among them, chattering furiously and flapping its wings in their faces but not actually landing on any of them. Neelix hesitated, not wanting to throw another stone and perhaps injure his little pet. He wished Furball would get out of his way.
Then it was too late for stones. The Xians were only a few feet away. Without thinking, Neelix hefted his pointed walking stick-he'd sharpened it earlier to help dig up roots-and howled. Holding it in front of him, Neelix met the Xians halfway.
He'd never been so angry, nor had he ever taken such fierce joy in fighting back. Now he thrust forward with the makeshift spear, stabbing the nearest Xian in the gut and using his weight to force the point deeper into the soft flesh. The Xian cried out, a garbled, painful sound, and tried to lock its hands around Neelix's throat. The Talaxian twisted out of reach with an agility worthy of his winged friend, and tugged loose his weapon. The Xian fell to the ground, clutching his abdomen. Purple-red blood dripped onto the hard earth.
Neelix whirled, swinging the stick in front of him at the Xians who had suddenly halted. "Come on!"
Neelix bellowed. "Afraid of a little man with a sharp stick? Huh?"
They backed up, though not without muttering and waving their own weapons. Overhead, watching the strange battle intently, hovered Furball.
Neelix's single lung labored for air, but he didn't dare show weakness, not now. He stepped toward the aliens, waving his stick about. "Grrua said you were really tough. Well, you're not so tough, after all, are you? Are you?"
He hurried forward, the stick in front of him, and the Xians scattered. Pausing only to pick up their fallen comrade, they fled before Neelix, yawling and jabbering in their guttural, rough tongue. When he dared, Neelix let the stick fall from his fingers and leaned down, placing his hands on his knees and drawing shallow, rapid breaths.
Blood dripped down from a wound in his left shoulder, but he didn't feel or see it. Furban plopped his soft weight down about Neelix's shoulder, cooing and nuzzling at his neck. Neelix found his breath coming easier and reached up a hand to pat Furball absently.
"Too bad you couldn't help me fight," he said wryly. "Though I appreciated the distraction."
Furball began to slide off Neelix's shoulder. Worried, Neelix twisted to catch his little companion. "Oh, no," he breathed. There was a deep slice in Furball's neck on the left side, right where the wing began. "Oh, you poor little fellow. Here, let's clean that up right now!"
He had no compunction about using the precious water to rinse the dust out of Furball's wound. The animal didn't protest, though it whimpered a little as Neelix's stubby fingers probed the depth of the injury with as much gentleness as possible.
"Well,