by Cher Hollis
She reached for the edge of the cot and pulled herself up. No more nausea came as she reached for a boot caught in the covers. After adjusting the boots to her feet, she ripped off part of the sheet and dabbed her temple to clear away the blood. Then she braced and stood, finally letting go of the cot.
She staggered to the hatch, grabbing it for support with pain dancing across her forehead.
Cassie ignored the pain, knowing she had to find Bo. Worry put her on edge. She knew Bo would have been there by then. Something must have happened to him. Each step down the corridor got easier as her mind and body compensated for her injury.
When she reached the stepladder, she felt sure she could make it. Two of the Variant kidnappers had been tossed around in the ship’s upheaval, and they laid on the metal decking, tied up and still unconscious. She ignored them and began to climb slowly up the ladder.
There was debris strewn everywhere and she saw ashy smoke as it filtered out of the flight deck. Then she heard sputtering above her and the automated flame retardant system kicked in and washed her in sprayed water.
Ignoring it, she moved forward through the rubble as quickly as she could. It seemed as if the dilapidated ship had fallen in on itself. By the time she reached the threshold into the flight deck, she could see the smoke was clearing with the light spray of water.
“Bo!” she shouted, as she rose from where she’d slipped in her haste on the wet decking.
The returned silence gave her a chill of apprehension, and she forgot about slipping while she rushed forward as best as she could. It looked as if half the ceiling in the command center had fallen. Her gaze stalled on the view out the forward portal, which was filled with a bizarre looking, oddly shaped, black ship.
She’d never seen a ship like it before. The thought hit her at once that the two ships had collided, and the one outside the portal had to be some kind of alien vessel. Her scan and conclusions lasted only seconds, and then she pulled her eyes away to continue searching for Bo.
She moved further into the chamber, while yelling, “Bo! Where are you?”
She tried to pick his shape out of the rubble.
“Where’s the pilot control?” she yelled in frustration.
She knew he would have been close to that. As she moved, she shoved pieces of manufactured ceiling aside. Then she heard a moan and she whirled toward it.
She saw Bo pinned beneath a pile of wreckage.
“Bo!” she cried in alarm. She saw he was pinned from the waist down, but he wasn’t moving. She made her way through the rubble. “It’s Cassie, Bo. I’m coming.”
Just as she stepped over the last piece of wreckage between them, something grabbed her ankle, and the suddenness of it made her scream.
It was a hand!
Terrified, Cassie jerked her leg, trying to break loose from the hard grip, but she only managed to lose her balance. Then the hand tugged so hard on her ankle, she fell to the deck.
“Cassie!” Bo yelled.
Cassie grappled against the hand’s grip as she tried to turn over to look back, where she saw part of a huge figure as it rose off the deck. It was a bloodied man, and he used his other hand to claw up the calf of her leg. Cassie yelped in fear and she tried to scratch her way forward, away from the man.
“The pistol!” Bo shouted.
He was still pinned under the wreckage, but Cassie saw him as he heaved a weapon through the air. It landed in front of her and she managed to grab it, just as she felt her body being jerked backward.
“It’s all your fault!” her attacker bellowed.
Cassie raised the barrel of the IP toward him, while her mind raced with the fact that she didn’t know how to use the weapon.
“Swing the lever back!” Bo yelled behind her.
On her back, Cassie kicked her bare legs and she tried to pull free of the man’s grip, but she failed. She brought the IP up further, and she saw the man had a knife. He was raising it to strike. She screamed in terror.
“No!”
Time seemed to move in microseconds, and she saw deadly intent in the man’s eyes, while she wondered why he wanted to kill her. He seemed monstrous as he heaved himself further up her body, and then he set to plunge the knife into her.
From far away, she heard Bo’s command to shoot, but she couldn’t seem to make her finger close on the lever.
“I can’t!” she cried, and then she inhaled a terror-filled breath, ragged and raw.
The man slashed the knife upward, and then it started down. Cassie knew she faced certain death and she screamed.
But then she heard a hollow thump, as the knife, which had been lowering toward her, suddenly fell from her attacker’s fingers. Cassie saw another knife protruded from the man’s chest above his heart. He seized his chest with frenzied motions, while crimson blood sprouted across his shirt, and then he started to fall forward.
Cassie choked on a scream as he fell dead across her legs, and she realized Bo had thrown a knife and saved her, while she’d failed to save herself.
Cassie threw the IP aside as if it burned her fingers and she desperately strained to twist out from under the weight that pinned her. Her breath seesawed with panicked gasps.
There was a resounding crash behind her, and then strong hands pushed the deadweight off her legs. She felt Bo’s arms around her as he pulled her backward.
“Cassie ... angel, I’m here. Try to calm down.”
Bo lifted her to her knees in front of where he knelt.
“I couldn’t shoot!” she cried, and then she collapsed against him.
“It’s all right, baby.” He pulled her closer. “You’re all right.”
She clutched his broad back, while he ran his hands down her hair. She could feel his hot skin against her cheek, and she tried to draw in his strength, then she made an enormous effort to stop shuddering and calm down.
But she felt a strange sensation on her bare shoulder. “What is that?” she asked with a shiver.
Looking at her shoulder, her gaze followed a blood trail. Then she saw the ugly gash on Bo’s upper arm, as it dripped blood onto hers.
“You’re hurt. You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed.
One push and she was out of his embrace, to take a look at his upper right arm. It was a deep wound with blood running down the length of it.
But he tugged his arm from her hold, and then he reached for her forehead.
“You’re bleeding too, Cassie. Let me look at your forehead.”
He tried to tilt her head back, and she squirmed out of his grasp.
“Bo, give me your belt. Quick!”
She didn’t wait for him to grant her request; instead, she took hold of the fastener on his belt.
“Cassie,” he protested.
Cassie ignored Bo’s objections and began to pull the belt from his black uniform pants.
“You need a tourniquet, now. You don’t want to bleed to death before you can help me. Do you?” she asked. The belt came free, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “Give me your arm.”
She avoided looking at his face so she wouldn’t give him a chance to stop her, and she was relieved when he gave over his arm. Quickly, Cassie wrapped the belt around the muscle of his bicep above the wound, and she looped it, pulling it tight.
“Here, let me do that,” he said. His breath was warm against her ear from where they had their heads bent together. Taking over, he cinched the belt tighter and he secured the end.
Having her hands free, Cassie ripped a length off the bottom of her undershirt. It was all she’d managed to put on before the ships had collided. She wiped the blood off Bo, and then some off her shoulder and legs. She ripped another piece for a bandage over Bo’s open wound.
“It’s not good enough,” she said, looking up at him worriedly, after she’d wrapped his wound. “But it will have to do for now. What we need is a med-pack. That needs to be fused,” she added.
Bo grasped her shoulders. “You’ve had your way. No
w sit still while I look at that cut on your forehead.” He lifted her chin and gently prodded around the cut, which made her wince. “Sorry,” he said, as he inspected her eyes. “Have you had any nausea?”
She hesitated, but then admitted, “At first. But I feel fine now, except for a headache.”
“Your pupils are uneven, Cassie. Added with the nausea, it says you have a concussion. You’re shaking like a leaf. I don’t know what’s holding you up,” he said sternly.
“It’s freezing in here,” she said, attempting a lame explanation.
Before she could say another word, Bo took control by bending and lifting her into his arms. She grabbed his neck in surprise, as his incredible strength brought him to his feet with ease and with her in his arms.
“I can walk,” she exclaimed, settling in the cradle of his arms.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
His face was set, and she could tell he wasn’t going to listen to any arguments. He picked his way through the wreckage, until he came to the alcove at the entrance of the flight deck. There were two wide benches on either side of the alcove that hadn’t been sprayed by water, which had since shut off.
Bo set her down on the bench on the left side, then he muttered, “Seems we can’t keep you in clothes.”
She blushed, and the look in Bo’s eyes grew deeper as she watched his gaze lower to her breasts, which were barely covered beneath a wet undershirt that was transparent and didn’t fit. The neckline plunged past the upper curves of her cleavage and the torn bottom edge of the undershirt was hitched up to her waist, leaving only her lavender panties that were wet and clinging to her skin.
Bo still leaned over her with one arm under her thighs. His face was inches from hers, while she held onto his neck. She felt the aura of tantalizing sensations, as she watched him slowly lift his gaze to look deep into hers. The blueness of his eyes darkened and it allowed her to see the heat and hunger.
Slowly, he closed his eyes, and even slower, he shook his head.
“Bo,” she said, and longing filled her voice.
He opened his eyes, and then kissed her temple.
With his lips against her forehead, he said, “We’ve started something—” He stopped, then muttered, “Christ, you’re tempting. But you’re injured, and I’d never want to stop.”
He released her and straightened, then he turned away from her as he took a deep breath.
Reluctantly, Cassie lay back on the bench. She longed for him fiercely. But she was forced to admit they were both injured, and concern over his wound should come first.
He didn’t look back to her, when he said, “You lay still, Cassie. I’m going to find a med-pack.”
Then he stood and crossed the threshold without a backward glance.
He’d left her to take a deep breath of her own.
Bo forced himself not to look back—it was hard for him to resurrect his normal military-sharp focus, as he tried to control the arousal he felt toward the most tempting woman he’d ever met.
“Soon,” he muttered, giving himself at least that much.
Then he took the time to gather food, water, blankets, and he had the luck of finding a med-pack. He stored those supplies at the foot of the ladder on the lower deck, because the Variant kidnappers were awake. It left him no choice but to find a better way to secure them.
He was worried about Cassie’s condition, but he couldn’t take the chance that the kidnappers would get free. He grabbed one of the IR’s from its hiding place, and when he reached the kidnappers, he took off their gags and untied their feet.
Lining them up, Bo directed them down the corridor on the lower level.
The man named Langley, last one in line, turned to him and objected. “We’re all Variants here, man. You need to remember that.”
Bo jabbed Langley with the barrel of his weapon, as he tersely ordered, “Keep moving.”
Langley’s outburst continued, “How can you live with yourself, protecting that piece of De La Fluenta filth! Think of it, if she lives, there will be a future generation of abominations like Dr. De La Fluenta! She’ll breed more. You know she will. And you’re protecting that!”
The muscle in Bo’s jaw ticked as he clamped down on his reaction. He’d heard those kind of fanatical Variant ravings before, and as with any extremism, it reached outside rational limits.
“Shut up,” he ordered, again using the barrel of his IR as motivation in Langley’s back.
Bo pushed all the kidnappers into the ship’s galley and he lined them along one wall. He scanned the area and decided there would be enough food and water for them to survive the time they were locked up.
“I’ll be leaving,” he snapped. “Breaking the lock when I go, so there’s no use trying to escape.”
“But, wait! What about untying us,” Langley exclaimed.
“You’ll figure it out,” Bo said, unsympathetic, as he backed up.
“Now wait a minute,” Langley pleaded. “You don’t understand. This is our time! This is when the Variants get everything back we lost. That’s what it’s all about, man! How would you like it if all natural born humans were forced to stop looking at you like filth? If they were forced to stop calling you a clone? And you could have any natural-born woman you wanted as your own private piece, and do anything with her you wanted. Yeah, that’s right, anything.”
Langley looked around eagerly, his eyes bright, while his partners nodded in agreement.
Bo stopped the backward motion of leaving and looked at them coldly. He knew that they thought his silence showed interest. But they were wrong. He let Langley continue, because he was hunting for information.
“One Variant controls all the aliens! Millions of them!” Langley exclaimed. “He plans to take over Earth with their legions. His orders are to kill all naturally born men. Think of it. All of them dead. We will conquer Earth and make it our planet. Take it away from all natural borns. You could be a part of that. They need good Variant military men.”
“What Variant leads this? What’s his name?” Bo demanded, just managing to keep his expression from a sneer.
Langley shook his head. “Simon didn’t give a name, but that woman is our calling card.” Langley paused, then asked, “What do you say? We’re all brothers. Hell, man, we are all any of us Variants have!”
Bo’s features hardened and he shook his head, then he ground out, “You’re no brothers of mine.”
He backed out of the galley and slammed the hatch, shutting it against their shouted curses. He worked to break the hatch lock, and then he thought that he’d better get back to Cassie.
He found her minutes later asleep and shivering. Quickly, he covered her with one of the blankets and he checked her pulse, which he found beating steady. He grabbed a hand cloth that he’d brought back and he dampened the end of it to wash Cassie’s face.
She mumbled once when he cleaned around the cut on her temple. But she was quiet as he sponged the blood off her arms and legs and where he could reach under the loose-fitting undershirt she had on.
He thought about taking off her wet underclothes, but decided to wait and see if the blanket would be enough to stop her shivering. With two adhesive stitches and some spray disinfectant from the med-pack, he cleaned the cut on her temple and applied the stitches.
Bo remembered that she’d cut her feet earlier on the ore and he checked them, finding a tiny cut, which he sprayed with disinfectant, and finally he gave her a hypo-pop for her concussion. The shot hissed against her skin as he injected the remedy that would help all conditions of a concussion.
After he’d taken care of Cassie the best he could, he went to check damages to the ship. He found the propulsion system still worked and the thermal jack had been repaired, as one of the kidnappers claimed. He did a detailed check of all outside walls throughout the ship for any breaches and found them sound.
When he returned to the flight deck to check on Cassie, he saw that she’d stopped shivering. He p
ulled the blanket over her and added another. Then he went into the main flight deck and he hefted Ellis onto his shoulder and took him to medical stowage.
When he came back to the flight deck, he spent time clearing away wreckage from key areas, until he could look over the damage to navigation and communication. He saw both systems were destroyed by fires. That left life support and propulsion as the only operational systems.
“It could be worse,” he muttered, and he felt some defeat, which was unusual. Marines found solutions.
It made him realize he was exhausted, and he still had to fix his arm before he could rest.
Bo went back to the alcove and grabbed the med-pack. Unwinding the tourniquet and small bandage Cassie had used on his arm, he checked his wound.
He saw that it would have to be fused, but first, he dug out two nutrient bars from the supplies he’d collected. He ate the bars, while he made a bed using two of the blankets to put on the bench across from where Cassie lay sleeping.
By the time he’d finished, the cut on his bicep had started bleeding again. He cleaned the wound with disinfectant, and then he sat on the deck, where he braced between the bench and the wall. He knew how fusors worked—it fused from the inside out. He had to prepare for intense pain.
Taking a few deep breaths, he gritted his teeth and picked up the fusor. Bo laid it to his wound and the sharp pain of fusing made him groan tightly. He might be a veteran to pain and had the scars to prove it, but the pain was still intense.
Once his wound was fused, he threw the fusor across the alcove as if he was disgusted. But it did take the edge off, because he’d been locked so tight. Then he made himself uncoil to wash, as best he could with one arm.
Afterward, he took another moment to check on Cassie, smoothing his knuckles over her soft cheek. He hoped she was sleeping and not unconscious because of the wound to her head. He spread her hair out with his fingers and kissed her temple, before he went to his bench.
He put the IP under the blanket he’d folded into a pillow, then he put the IR within reach on the bench beside him. Satisfied that the weapons were easy to reach, he finally laid down. Closing his eyes, he mentally relaxed his body.
