Read The Only One for Free Online Page A

people. Yet if these strangers had tech, then it followed they might have decent food, shelter, and medical care, too. Such luxuries would account for their size.
    The outsiders wouldn't stay for long on Sienna, Taj knew. If they had the tech it appeared they did, they'd be rescued by their people and taken off-planet quickly enough. They weren't here to help the people of this planet; they were here to fight. But what if they seduced Romjha with tales of the worlds beyond, and he left with them on an idealistic, unrealistic mission to destroy the warlords?
    Taj's back crawled with foreboding. Her hands twisted impotently around her lowered rifle as she watched the quintet approach.
    The two outsiders wore dull-colored clothing that appeared to be uniforms stripped of identifying insignia.
    The larger of the pair bore his comrade on his back. His shirt was missing a sleeve, revealing a sweat-slick, muscular arm wider in circumference than Taj's thigh.
    "That's Jal," Aleq explained. "The wounded man is Cheya. He took shrapnel in the leg."
    Cheya would need an experienced healer's attention, Taj realized with a sinking feeling. She hoped he would make it. The healers were a rover's ride away. Like the raiders, she knew how to tend the usual injuries, but the healers discouraged amateur interference, claiming it caused infection and death more often than not.
    "That's all there were, Romjha," Aleq continued. "Two of them."
    The group tumbled into the shelter of the gutted tank. The odors of scorched clothing and overheated metal mixed with the tang of blood, sweat, and fear. The outsiders may not be familiar, Taj thought bleakly, but the scent they carried was. It was the smell of war.
    The outsider named Jal fell to his knees and eased his comrade from his back as gently as one would lay down a child, though Cheya was nearly as tall as Jal. A hasty field dressing had been wound tightly around the wounded man's upper right thigh—Jal's missing sleeve, Taj realized. Blood had soaked through it, turning the grayish cloth brown-black. In full daylight it would have been gory red. Taj was glad it was night.
    As the remaining three raiders reported to Romjha, hastily debriefing him, Taj scrutinized the outsiders.
    Their boots were made from real leather, she guessed, sniffing at a faintly exotic scent in the air. This wasn't footwear hand-stitched by women sitting around the fire, nursing babies and trading stories. Nor were their uniforms made of homemade cloth. Everything was machine-made; finely made, too. The wonders of technology she'd only read about, these men had experienced.
    While the returning raiders boasted about destroying the skyport, Jal tended his companion. The outsider's breaths were ragged, likely from exhaustion and injuries hidden beneath his soiled uniform. He'd been in a violent crash, but he wouldn't realize just how affected he was until later. Shock hit you that way, Taj knew, a delayed reaction, like when she'd gotten flash-burned.
    Jal raised Cheya's visor, making the lower portion of his face visible. His jaw was slack and his lips dry.
    Muttering softly, Jal dipped his head in prayer.
    Taj bit back surprise. She hadn't expected such a show of faith from this hulking warrior. In her community, it was the women who prayed, and the men who were prayed about. She said, "I hope your prayers work.
    It looks like your friend could use all the help he can get."
    Jal lifted his head, fixed her with a steady but glazed stare as if she'd called him back from a long journey.
    "He will be healed. And he will live." His accent was heavy, his tone aristocratic stopping just short of haughty. "Like his ancestors, Cheya will survive."
    Jal's confidence made her angry. "If the bandage holds until we reach base camp," she retorted, " If infection doesn't set in. If the medicines we fabricate or steal heal the wound—"
    Romjha's hand landed on her shoulder. Her body gave an involuntary start. His fingers flexed gently and