Colliding Worlds Trilogy 03 - Explosion Page 9

  His friend was holding his chest, a clean shot through his lung.

  “Well, doesn’t this suck,” Ace said with a small trail of blood down the corner of his mouth. He fell forward, and Jax caught him. Pulling himself up with his good leg, he heaved Ace around his shoulders and trudged toward the vessel.

  The ship opened suppression fire in a wide arc as its door opened. The sounds of gunfire lessened but still continued. He could hear yelling and screams not too far away. Jax screamed for them to stop, but his shout was swallowed by the transporter’s blasters. These were his men being chopped down. He’d stood at these men’s sides in battle, only to abandon them now to slaughter. “No!” he yelled.

  Two Draeken ran out, each holding a full-length clear shield against the incoming rifle fire. When they reached Jax, the first one asked, “Is one of you Captain Jackson Jerrick?”

  Jax limply raised a hand.

  Both Draeken were at least a half foot taller than Jax. One relieved him of Ace while the other dragged him toward the ship still laying cover fire in the direction of the car.

  Jax grabbed onto his rescuer’s uniform. “Talla’s still out there!”

  “We know,” the man carrying him said. “We’re picking her up, too.”

  The moment they carried him inside the door, he was dropped on the floor next to Ace, and the two Draeken left the transporter again. Glancing around, he found only the pilot remained, who was focused on whatever lay outside the windshield. “Move quickly,” he commanded into his wrist-com.

  Jax rolled Ace onto his back. With a collapsed lung, he had minutes of air if he was lucky. Without a spare field kit, he pressed his palm against the wound to staunch the blood flow. “Stay with me, Ace,” he said to the unconscious man on the floor.

  The echoes of gunfire faded, and Jax suspected that every man that he’d been proud to call a brother now lay bleeding or dead in a cornfield. These were men he’d trained and worked with, many for years. Several of them he called friend. A cold stone lodged in his heart. He was the reason they were being killed. He’d slaughtered his own men. Who else would die if he continued down this path?

  A Draeken lunged into the transporter, and Jax startled. The second was right behind, carrying Talla. The door shut and the guardsman set her down on the floor before hopping over and to the front of the cramped ship.

  He wanted to let go of Ace and grab Talla, but she was at least conscious. Bloody and disoriented but conscious while Ace needed every extra second that Jax could buy.

  “Talla?” he asked.

  She winced and turned her head. Her eyes blinked open and she smiled. “Hey.”

  “You okay?” he asked roughly.

  “Just a hard landing from those shock grenades. They’re a lot like chaos-charges.” She scrutinized him and her eyes widened. She lurched forward. “You’re shot.”

  He shrugged. “If your medical technology is as good as you say, I’ll be better in no time,” he said, not believing himself for a minute. He’d seen gut wounds before. They rarely had a happy ending. He sobered. “But Ace is going to need help fast.” He turned to the pilot. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  She looked over at Ace and nodded tightly. Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry, Jax, but I think he’s already gone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Talla left Jax’s side only to clean up and to have her body repaired. They’d even injected her atrophied wings with muscle enhancers. With every flex of her long wings, she could feel invigorating strength returning.

  When she’d returned to Jax’s bed, she found him on his back, naked except for his dog tags and a gray blanket covering his hips. She set down the bundle she’d been carrying and stepped closer to the unconscious soldier. He’d wake soon. On the transporter, he’d started screaming about saving Ace and his team, and so they’d been forced to sedate him so he wouldn’t make his injuries worse.

  Now, skin patches had grown completely over his leg and stomach wounds, leaving fresh pink skin and no scars. Their DNA was so similar that Draeken medicine worked perfectly on human anatomy without any kind of adjustment needed, though it was obvious Jax hadn’t had access to her people’s medicine for much of his life. Scars littered his arms and chest. Many were small, a slice here and a puncture there. She ran a finger across an exception — a four-inch scar on his shoulder and wondered what blade caused that wound.

  His skin was warm. She craved to kiss the scar. The muscles tensed beneath her fingers, and she startled, finding brown eyes watching her. She took a step back. “You’re awake.”

  Jax watched her for another moment before glancing down at his stomach. He frowned. “How long have I been out?” he asked, his voice a rough rasp.

  She looked at her wrist-com. “A little over four hours. It is night now.”

  “Four hours?” He dropped his head back onto the body-conforming bed. “Damn.” After a moment, he looked up. “Draeken medicine is impressive. I don’t feel anything more than a dull cramping in my stomach and leg.”

  “That will continue for another day or so until your body is fully repaired,” Talla said. “Then you’ll get muscle spasms and you’ll notice weakness until you’re at full strength. That is all a normal part of recovery.”

  He looked around the room, and Talla wondered what he saw. After all, this was Med. Everything was clinical with little comforts on display. Shades of gray and streamlined metals, conveying a strange beauty in its stark modernism.

  “Christ, Earth really is in the dark ages. Your people offer so much, and all we did was spit in your face for it.”

  “There’s still hope.”

  He pulled himself into a sitting position with a nearly inaudible grunt, the blanket pooling around his hips, leaving his rippled torso on display. She found herself breathing heavier as he touched his stomach where he’d been shot. He glanced up, and she struggled to look disaffected. “After everything humans have done to you, why do you still want peace?”

  So much honesty and pain in those eyes. Bristling under his gaze, she stretched her wings before pulling them back. “I want a home. I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last a hundred lifetimes. All of my people have. On Earth, for the first time in our lives, we have a chance to put that behind us and start fresh. Who knows how long we’d have to travel to find another habitable planet. It could take years, even decades. We’re not going to easily give up a chance at a home here.”

  “With Omega, this planet could be all yours anyway,” he said, coming to his feet.

  He gripped the blanket in front of his groin, drawing Talla’s gaze in. The room suddenly grew hot, and she felt her cheeks burn. She snapped away and rushed to the table, picked up the clothing, and dropped the black pile onto the bed. She picked up a small gray bag from the top of the stack.

  “These should fit. Draeken shirts wouldn’t fit you right, so I found you a Sephian shirt that should work. I checked your old boots for the right size. Anyway, this will hold up much better than what you had. And I brought you an orientation kit as well. We’ll go over it in a bit.” She lifted the bag in her hands. “Your new weapons have already been requisitioned. I’ll wait outside while you change,” she said in a rambling rush, before taking off for the door.

  “It’s all right. I’m not shy.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing there with a smirk on his face. An invitation or a jest? Neither was common for him, either was cruel if he had no intention on following through. He turned around, and Talla had a full view of his naked, perfectly tight ass as he grabbed the clothing. A small gasp escaped her, and she spun on a heel and headed straight out of the room.

  Once in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and sighed. Never in her life had she felt so off-balance. She’d thought being back on the Striga would make everything feel normal again. But she’d quickly realized familiarity had nothing to do with her emotions right now.

  First, the last time she’d been on this ship, Laze had been
with her. They’d always been inseparable. But she couldn’t dwell on that emptiness right now. Call it denial, but her heart just couldn’t take any kind of reminiscing at the moment.

  Her plan was to keep too busy to think, but there was another emotion threatening to swallow her whole, an emotion that was much easier to focus on. And Jax Jerrick was to blame. She wanted to be with him constantly, yet whenever she felt like they were about to cross a line from casual to … something else, he froze and bolted. Infatuation in itself was fine, but the intensity of this particular infatuation threw her off, especially when she suspected Jax would never let it go further.

  Suddenly, Jax was standing next to her, and she jumped. “That was fast.” She looked him up and down. He looked delicious. Covered in black, the thinner material accentuated every muscle. His thick thighs begged to be straddled. His strong chest pleaded to be licked. “I see it fits,” she said instead, pressing the bag to his chest.

  His fingers brushed against hers as he took the bag, and she fought back the shiver. “Your sanctuary is eight floors up.”

  “Sanctuary?”

  Talla thought through her English vocabulary for the right word. “Quarters? Residence? Yes, your new residence. They are designed for you to be as comfortable as possible, and you can make any changes you’d like to your own sanctuary.” An unbidden image of Jax lounging naked in his room flashed through her mind. “But first I need a drink,” she said quickly. “This way.”

  She motioned down the hall, and he scrutinized her. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “You seem edgy.”

  “It’s been a long couple days.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

  They walked in silence through the next several corridors.

  “You know, I really didn’t think we’d make it here,” Jax said.

  “Me neither.” She smiled at him. “Maybe I should try out your prayer thing.”

  He chuckled. “There’s a bit more to it than that, but the guy upstairs was definitely helping us out today.”

  “Is he real?”

  “Who?”

  “The guy upstairs?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jax replied. “It’s a matter of faith. If I believe he’s real, he’s real.”

  “Fascinating,” Talla said. “You god is different than the Sephian gods. They are believed to have evolved from the living, similar to the saints of this world, I suppose. The Draeken have no gods. We simply can’t find proof that they exist.”

  Jax shrugged. “That’s the trick of faith. Proof isn’t mandatory.” His neck craned to the side as he scanned the larger vestibule they were now crossing. “Hell,” he muttered. “When I saw the Sephian base in Arkansas, I thought that was impressive. This ship blows it out of the water.”

  Talla looked up. She’d been through the halls of this ship hundreds of times, but never gave it much thought. She looked around, imagining what it would be like for someone to see it for the first time. Doors spotted the wall at their height. But above that, the walls climbed for fifty feet before curving in to meet the other wall in the center. The night sky played across the panels, bringing a feeling of open space to the core ship’s inhabitants.

  Smaller sections of the walls had various scenes taking place. Some were officers providing updates. Others were scenes of the troops surrounding the ship. Though the Striga had only one massive window by the command room, its inhabitants could visualize a status of the battle at a quick glance and receive more information than any person on the ground.

  “I’ll give you a tour tomorrow, once you’re fully healed. How do you feel?”

  “Fine. Better than fine, actually.” He shook his leg. “You’re right about the spasms, but they’re just annoying. It doesn’t feel any worse than a nasty bruise right now.”

  “Good.” She grabbed his elbow. “This way.”

  For some reason, she didn’t let go and he didn’t pull away. They walked, with her hand looped into his arm, to the bar. When they entered, all faces turned onto them briefly before returning to their own drinks. Out of habit, Talla avoided the Sephian section, which had the lights turned off, to be easier on their night-vision eyes. She weaved Jax through tables, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead to avoid being pulled into any conversation.

  “Don’t mind the looks,” she whispered to Jax.

  He leaned closer. “It’s not me they’re looking at.”

  She nodded tightly. “There are not many Draeken women left,” she replied, her voice low.

  He placed a protective hand over hers. A guardsman cursed at Jax before downing his drink.

  “I’m not very popular around here,” he said, not sounding the least bit bothered.

  “They don’t like competition.” Her eyes widened. “Not that you’re — we’re — ”

  “I got it,” he said. Jax froze then, his hand dropping. He pulled away and headed toward one of the square bars in the huge bar room. “Ace?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The dark-skinned human sitting at the bar, bundled in a thick blanket, turned and a smile crept up his face. “Jax, you ugly bastard. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

  Jax looked from Ace to Talla and back to Ace, his face full of wonder. “You’re fucking alive.”

  “Alive, yes. Fucking, not yet.”

  Talla pursed her lips, eyeing the orientation kit on the counter before him. “What are you doing here? You should still be in Med. You suffered a very serious injury.”

  Ace spoke before taking another drink. “That’s what the docs said, too.”

  “Man,” Jax said, dragging the word out over a sigh.

  Ace nodded. “Yeah, these guys have some damn good medicine.”

  “After he went into cardiac arrest, they lowered his body temperature to not risk brain damage while they repaired his chest,” Talla said.

  “They froze you?” Jax asked.

  “It’s a common practice,” Talla said, her voice matter-of-fact. “It minimizes risk of infection and gives the patches time to take hold.”

  “Yeah, I think my fuckin’ balls froze off,” Ace said, reaching shakily for his beer. “Definitely not the best sick bay experience I’ve ever had.”

  Jax nodded. “It’s damn good to see you, brother.”

  Ace held up his beer. “Cheers to that.”

  Talla smiled at Jax’s grin. It was the first sign of true happiness she’d seen in him for a long time. It lightened some of the tension that had been weighing her down. Jax pulled out a chair and she followed suit.

  “So is the beer any good in this joint?” Jax asked.

  “It’s cold and not too skunky.”

  Jax held up a finger, and the bartender came over. “Beer.” Jax glanced her way. “You want one, too?”

  Talla shook her head. “Beer is a poor substitute for bolgt.” She nodded at the bartender, and he smiled before heading off to get their drinks.

  He was back in seconds with two mugs. Jax’s had foam on top, while Talla could only see the tasty dark liquid of bolgt. She took a drink and cringed. Not horrible for a bolgt substitute, but it still wasn’t the real thing.

  Jax was eyeing her. “What’s that?”

  “This, when made properly,” she said, “is what your gods would call ambrosia.”

  “I don’t do sissy drinks,” Ace said.

  Talla smirked and held out her mug. Ace took a drink. His eyes widened and he handed back her mug with an exhalation. “Fuck, that shit’s good.” He motioned to Jax. “Tastes a bit like spiced rum but without the syrupy taste.”

  Suspicious, Jax tried bolgt. He turned to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “Make it two,” Ace said.

  When their fresh mugs came, Ace held his up. “To Echo Team Three.”

  “To brothers lost,” Jax added.

  “To brothers lost,” Talla echoed solemnly.

  They drank.

  Over the
next few hours, Jax drank two for every one Talla drink, while Ace was somewhere in between. He’d discarded the blanket after the bolgt took the edge off. It was exactly what everyone needed. They stopped only when the bartender came over, typing something on his wrist-com. “Sorry, Captain Monsen, but it seems that you’ve reached your quota. It says you’ve been confined to bed rest.”

  “I’m just dandy,” Ace said.

  “Doctor’s orders,” the bartender said and walked away, taking Ace’s mug with him.

  Ace came to his feet. “Well, I guess the fat lady has sung then.” He picked up the gray bag in front of him and turned, scanning the room. “Uh, either one of you happen to know where this ‘sanctuary’ of mine is?”

  Talla stood, her bolgt buzz hitting her full force. “Yours is next door to Jax’s. I’ll show you both.”

  They strolled through the hallways and up several more floors. Jax lifted his small kit. “What’s in here, anyway?”

  Talla reached for it and pulled it open. “Everything a Striga passenger needs. Guides, a translator, and most importantly,” she pulled out the largest item. “Your wrist-coms.”

  “Sick,” Ace muttered, sifting through his contents.

  “I take it they’re counting on Ace and me staying for the duration?” Jax asked.

  Talla shrugged. “I think the Striga is the only safe place for you both right now. But neither of you will be kept on the Striga against your will. If you choose to leave, that’s your call. Oh, here’s your hall,” Talla said, pointing out the hallway. “Right now, there are only humans in this hallway until everyone’s comfortable with more permanent integration.”

  “Where’s your room?” Jax asked, his voice husky.

  “It’s, ah,” she stammered. “Just one floor down. You can find anyone on the wall screens in every hall. Our wrist-coms are connected to the Striga’s main com, so you can track us, unless we set our coms to non-tracking, such as in meetings.” She took his wrist-com from his hands, entered in her code, and then fastened it around his forearm. “There. You can track my location anywhere from your wrist-com as well.”