by Cynthia Sax
“Our plans aren’t yet set.” Her warrior cautioned.
“Enough of it is set.” She wouldn’t be returning to the settlement.
“Medic.” The Ruler sat behind a horizontal support in his meeting chambers, his scarred face covered in shadows.
Two winged babies were perched on his leather-clad shoulders. A third tiny male pulled on his dark hair.
Dita, his mate, was positioned beside him. A smile curled her lips.
“Kralj, sir.” Gisella inclined her head, showing him the deference he deserved. “The Palavian brothers—”
“I informed them of their brother’s death.” The Ruler surprised her with that news. “Not having located you prior to speaking with me, they made assumptions. I didn’t correct them.”
Her mind whirled. The Palavians believed she’d killed their brother. The punishment for killing within the Refuge’s walls was a horrific death. That reprimand was delivered by the Ruler. He had met them at the medic bay.
“They assumed I was dead.” In their minds, their brother had received justice.
Kralj nodded. “They looked for another victim, found one of my warriors instead. He convinced them to leave the Refuge. Permanently. They won’t be here when you return.”
When she returned. Oh shit. She had to tell him.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and some of the tension inside her dissipated. She wasn’t alone. Her barbarian was behind her.
“I appreciate all that you’ve done for me.” She valued it more than the Ruler would ever know. “But I won’t be returning to the Refuge.”
“Your warrior’s brother lives in the Refuge.” Kralj’s tone was flat. “You’ll return. Your stays will be short but they will happen.”
She blinked. “You knew I wouldn’t be resuming my role as Lead Medic?”
“I know everything.” The Ruler glanced at his tiny mate. “Almost everything.”
Dita grinned at him. Her eyes sparkled.
“Know,” the baby sitting on top of Kralj’s head yelled. “Know.”
The other two babies joined him, repeating that word over and over. The trio grew increasingly excited, battering the air and the Ruler with their wings.
“Silence.” Kralj’s voice filled both chambers.
Gisella felt its force across the expanse of space. Her spine straightened.
The babies froze in place. The chanting stopped.
“Respect.” Kralj shook his head. “That’s all I want.”
Oghul’s chest vibrated against Gisella’s back. Her damn barbarian was laughing at the most powerful male in the universe.
“I respect you.” She attempted to distract Kralj. “If you knew I wasn’t returning, why did you send me the intelligence on healing?”
He shrugged, the movement making the babies chortle with glee. “You’re one of us.”
She remained one of his team. A hard ball of emotion formed in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t become complacent, medic.” The viewscreen went black.
“What did he mean by that?” Oghul turned her to face him.
“It means I don’t have to worry about being bored.” The Ruler sometimes saw glimpses of events to come.
Her future would require healing. She slipped her hands in her jacket’s pocket. The gun, mini-medic pack, handheld were there.
She was ready.
***
Fifty-nine planet rotations later, Gisella held a less ominous view of the Ruler’s words. She now believed Kralj had been referring to her choice of roles.
Oghul sat in the captain’s chair on the bridge. Her barbarian was naked except for his flimsy ass coverings and his footwear.
Gisella was perched on his lap, a seat she had grown accustomed to claiming. She was dressed once again in her white jacket, a dark blue flight suit, black boots.
Her fingers were bare. She’d removed her hand coverings, left them in their private chambers.
There was no reason to wear them. The other warriors didn’t touch her out of respect for their leader and they didn’t require her touch. They were all appallingly healthy, had no wounds for her to treat.
Being the ship’s temporary medic had been an easy role but it didn’t challenge her, push her, make her a better healer. Taking that position permanently would, as her barbarian had predicted, bore her.
The trip had been equally uneventful, as serene as the image of the blue-and-white planet now dominating the bridge’s main viewscreen.
Some of her time had been absorbed by communications, advising the medics on Carinae E, listening to Pono’s lengthy stories about her shifts, guiding Medic Shaushka, her replacement, through her new duties.
Gisella had also prepared for the future, learning as much as she could about the Chameles, transferring that information into the handheld she always carried with her, creating a portable database.
Oghul had been a willing anatomy model, allowing her to scan, poke and prod him. They fucked numerous times a planet rotation, shared their waking hours. The connection between them was now rock solid.
She didn’t need that link to him to inform her he was excited to be returning home. Her warrior’s dark eyes glimmered with gold specks. His bare chest vibrated against her. He leaned slightly forward, as though he was seeking to arrive a moment faster.
His males were as eager as he was to land on their planet. They buzzed with activity, all of them on the bridge, their gazes on Chamele 2.
Yesun had been chattering continuously since they passed Chamele 1, an ice-covered yet inhabited planet. “The nourishment at my sister’s birthing planet rotation celebration will be out of this universe.” He brandished a nourishment bar. “I can almost taste it.” He smacked his lips.
“All of us can almost taste it.” She teased the youth. “You’ve been discussing the nourishment in graphic detail since we entered the sector. We might accept your offer and attend.”
“I have nothing to do.” Qulpa looked up from his embedded viewscreen.
The other warriors laughed. Gisella merely smiled. The big male, she’d learned, had no living family left. She suspected he was truthful about having nothing to do.
Which meant he might be open to an assignment. “You have something to do…if you’re interested, Qulpa. I’d like an aerial overview of the planet. I want to see the regions you have all told me about.” She looked over her shoulder at Oghul. “Providing that’s feasible.”
It was an adjustment having to consult with another being before making decisions. She was accustomed to being solitary and independent.
“It’s feasible.” Her barbarian’s head dipped.
“We could do that now.” Yesun grinned. “I’ll show you where I was born. It’s the best part of Chamele 2.”
“The mountain region is the best part.” Qulpa lowered the ship. Objects rattled as they entered the atmosphere.
The other warriors forwarded their choices for the best part. Oghul’s team originated from all over the planet.
“We could tour the planet after we drop them off,” she murmured, saying those words for her barbarian’s hearing only. “I don’t want to delay their arrival.”
“It’s too late now.” His lips brushed over her earlobe and she trembled.
“Don’t miss my settlement.” Ariq frowned at Qulpa.
“Tell our Lead Medic not to blink, then.” Yesun teased Oghul’s number-one warrior. “Your settlement is tiny.”
“It might be small but it has the best warriors.” The male was clearly proud of his birthing place.
His comment prompted heated discussion about which settlements produced the best warriors. Oghul’s team was extremely competitive.
She gazed at the main viewscreen, as interested in the terrain of Chamele 2 as the conversation flowing around her. The land was lush and green. There were pools of water so serene and so clear she could see the rocks on the bottoms. Pathways carved fields of vegetation into patches.
&nb
sp; Children with golden skin and black hair stood on roofs of domiciles and waved at them as they passed. A male and female with similar coloring frantically chased a brown four-legged creature. A leather strap flapped around the beast’s neck, denoting it as an escapee.
All of the beings she saw appeared to be healthy, well-nourished, happy. The land was breathtaking, varied and rich, inhabited by Chameles and creatures, covered with plants.
She linked her fingers with Oghul’s. “Your planet is beautiful.”
“Our planet is beautiful.” He corrected her.
Our planet. She gazed at the main viewscreen with a new perspective. It had been half a lifespan since she had a home. She would now share his planet.
Permanently.
That would happen. She’d derive a plan, convince other Chameles she was worthy of being their medic.
Her barbarian’s kind seemed like logical beings. The warriors on his team had changed their minds on other issues when she presented them with the facts.
Gisella was damn good at healing. Her skills couldn’t be denied.
She’d also conquered greater obstacles in the past. Fuck. She’d healed warriors on battlefields with war raging around her. Winning over a bunch of Chameles should be easy to accomplish compared to that.
She had to do that soon because she missed healing. Tremendously. She flexed her fingers. The simulations in the medic bay weren’t enough for her. They—
“I’m detecting another ship, Second.” Qulpa’s voice cut through her musings and the chatter.
Her male straightened. “Hail them.”
“Hailing them.” Ariq tapped on his embedded viewscreen. “They’re not answering our hails, Second.”
“We have a visual,” yet another male informed them. The image appeared on the main viewscreen.
“That’s one of ours.” Oghul identified the ship. “Their weapons systems are online.”
“They’re attacking us?” Gisella swallowed. Hard.
“It isn’t unusual for Chameles to have weapons systems online.” Her barbarian explained to her. “We’re always ready to fight.” His stance didn’t relax, belying his reassuring words. “Deviate from their path.”
“Deviating, Second.” Qulpa was a great pilot. He’d avoid a collision.
If that was possible.
She gripped Oghul’s arms. He drew her into his body, his warmth and strength comforting her.
“They’ve changed their route also.” Qulpa’s expression was more dour than usual. “They’re pursuing us.”
“Son of a Gechii.” Her warrior cursed. “Can we outrun them?”
“With our malfunctioning engine, outrunning them isn’t feasible, Second.” The ship veered to the right. “We can outfly them, however.”
They entered a narrow canyon, followed a weaving stream. High cliff facings loomed to their left and to their right.
“Ariq, continue hailing the ship.” Oghul’s face was scarily stark. “Contact command. Inform them of the situation. Ask if they have any vessels in the area.”
He must not have ruled out a misunderstanding. The confrontation could still end with no—
“Incoming missiles.” Qulpa swerved the ship to the right.
Gisella slid over Oghul’s legs. He hooked his arms around her, keeping her in place.
The rock facing in front of them exploded.
“That was a warning shot.” Oghul’s fingers flew over his private viewscreen. “They didn’t mean to hit us. Scan the databases. Are we in restricted airspace?”
“This wasn’t restricted airspace when we left.” Moisture beaded on Qulpa’s face.
“We’ve been gone for almost half a solar cycle.” Her barbarian’s lips twisted. “Changes could have—”
Their ship jerked forward violently, throwing Gisella against the console. Before she could right herself, the vessel spun, the rotation making her dizzy. Red lights flashed and sirens wailed.
“We’ve been hit.” Sweat dripped off Qulpa’s chin as he struggled to regain control, fighting to right their path. “We’re going down.”
“Prepare for a possible hard landing, team.” Oghul strapped a harness around both himself and Gisella, pinning her to him.
She helped him fasten it, her hands shaking. Her heart pounded. She’d seen the aftermaths of crashes, had never been in one.
“The canyon opens up around this bend.” Her barbarian’s voice was flat. “If those bastards don’t finish us off first, we might be able to land there.”
“The bend will be tricky.” Qulpa wasn’t exaggerating the danger. They veered frighteningly close to one of the cliffs.
The ship shuddered as it ground against the rock. Metal whined, panels peeling away. Gisella’s teeth clattered. Moisture dripped down her spine. Would they make it or would the jagged surface slice their vessel apart?
Then the noise stopped and the space to navigate increased. The stream widened. Pebble beaches bracketed the water.
“They’re no longer shooting at us.” She pointed out that piece of good news.
“They know we can’t recover from this.” Oghul pressed his cheek against hers. His fingertips were white against the private viewscreen, her warrior adding his skill and strength to Qulpa’s efforts.
It wasn’t enough. The ship fell out of the sky. Gisella’s stomach lurched.
“Brace for impact.” Oghul folded his body around hers. His hands remained on the console as they fought to keep the vessel horizontal.
The ground rushed up to meet them. He didn’t stop, didn’t panic. Pride filled her. His calmness under pressure was one of the many things she loved about him.
She had never told him the depths of her caring. They could die and he wouldn’t know how much he meant to her.
She’d made that mistake with her mother, wouldn’t duplicate it with her warrior. There was still time to say the words. Not much time but enough.
“I love you, barbarian.” She turned her head and kissed his chest.
His muscles rippled. “I love—”
There was a boom. Air whooshed from her lungs. Her world went black.
***
The next thing she experienced was pain. Her entire body throbbed. Then there was the sensation of warmth. A breath wafted over her neck. She wrinkled her nose. The air smelled of fuel and blood.
She opened her eyes, blinked at the brightness of the sun’s rays. Debris was distributed around her. The terrain looked like a battlefield, the captain’s chair planted in the middle of the chaos. Water trickled between her booted feet.
Oghul’s arms remained around her. The skin on his arms was battered and torn. Those wounds appeared to be superficial. The gash on his right knee was deeper but not lifespan-ending.
“What are your injuries?” She struggled to unfasten the harness, the buckle bent.
“Can’t use my left arm.” His voice was hoarse. He extended the claws on his right hand, cut through the restraints.
She turned on his lap. Blood trickled down one of his cheeks. His eyes were open and clear. She ran her fingers over his big form, searching for more damage.
The bulge in his flimsy ass coverings grew larger.
“We almost died and you’re horny?” She lifted her eyebrows.
“As you’ve pointed out, I’m alive.” His lips twitched. “Other than my arm, I’m healthy.”
“You’ve dislocated your shoulder.” She stood beside him. Her legs shook but held. She grasped his wrist. “I’ll correct it.”
“Do it.” He remained seated.
She bent his elbow and slowly rotated his forearm, bringing it upward. Her muscles strained. There was a pop and the tension eased. “Is it in place?”
He crossed his chest with his left arm, touched his healthy shoulder. “I can use it again.” He rose to his booted feet.
“I have pain inhibitors.” She reached into her jacket pockets. “I can—”
“Save it for others who need it more.” He looked over he
r head. “Like Qulpa.”
She turned around. The warrior staggered toward them, clenching his right hand. Three of his fingers were missing, had been sliced completely off. Blood spurted, splattering everything he passed with a crimson spray.
“Qulpa, stay where you are.” As she hurried toward him, she yanked on the sleeve of her jacket.
It didn’t detach. She didn’t have the necessary strength.
“Oghul, remove my sleeve.” She assigned him that task. “Use your right arm when you do that.” She didn’t want him to stress his injured shoulder.
Her barbarian hesitated. “I’ll destroy your jacket.”
“I don’t wear it because it is decorative.” She’d mourn the loss of her beloved garment later, when everyone they cared about was safe and well. “The fabric is designed to also bind wounds.” Everything she owned served the role she held. “The gauze won’t be enough to stop the bleeding.”
“Only my fingers are missing,” Qulpa mumbled. “I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be fine.” Stars save her from stubborn warriors. “My gun survived the crash better than you did so you might wish to be quiet.” She didn’t have time to argue with the male. “Oghul?”
“I’m removing it.” He tugged on her sleeve. Fabric ripped.
She took it from her barbarian, turned the sleeve inside out. Nothing she was doing was sanitary but that side of the garment was cleaner.
She wrapped the double layer of cloth tightly around Qulpa’s hand. Her bare skin touched his and pain coursed up her arms, her fingers blistering.
“You should be wearing your hand coverings.” Oghul gazed at her with concern.
“You can find them when you’re looking for Qulpa’s fingers.” She removed the fastener from her hair, used it to tie the makeshift tourniquet. “Search for a medic pack also.” She extracted the mini-pack from her pocket. “I have limited pain inhibitors and—”
“Lead medic,” a male yelled.
“That’s Ariq.” Oghul glanced in the direction of the voice.
“Qulpa, look at me.” She could only treat one warrior at a time.
The male met her gaze. Blood matted the gray hair at his temple.
She traced the cut, sucking back the agony that caused her. Touching was the best way to determine the extent of a wound and he was her patient. His well-being had precedence over hers.
