He turned on the flashlight and made his way into the darkened ship. Some of the lights that had been flickering before had since died, casting the interior in the hellish red glow of a few emergency illuminations still working. Swinging the flashlight in an arc, he didn’t see the lieutenant, so he took a couple of steps farther inside.
“Petros?”
“Over here.” The muffled reply came from the direction of the flight console.
He picked his way over and found her kneeling between the two seats they’d been sitting on during the flight, sorting through wires in the bottom of the captain’s console.
She glanced up as he stopped next to her.
“Oh, good. I could do with some light.” The lieutenant pointed at the opened recess of the console.
He crouched down and positioned the flashlight where she’d indicated. “What are you doing?”
Petros picked a couple of wires free and dropped them aside then tackled a couple of others. “I figured if I can get the console display free, I might be able to rig it to a personal comm, find a signal, and send a message to the Swift Brion. Failing that, we should be able to use it to navigate out of the woods to the nearest city.”
Hell, he’d been too busy mulling over the possibility of someone trying to kill him to consider doing something like that. Brilliant. The shuttle consoles had an independent power source. Though it wouldn’t last forever, it should be enough to help them.
“You’re a handy person to have around, Petros. I mean, between your primitive medical skills and jury-rigging a destroyed shuttle…are there any other odd talents you’d like to share?”
She looked up long enough to send him an exasperated glare. “If I think of any, sir, you’ll be the first to know.”
He grinned, but she didn’t see it since she’d ducked her head into the console. Sliding down from his crouch, he found a more comfortable position with his back against the bottom of the copilot’s chair.
Somewhere outside the shuttle, birds were trilling a louder chorus now that the sun had started dropping and the temperature began cooling off. If not for the fact he’d been stranded with injured people in the middle of the wilderness, somewhere like this would have been the perfect place to get away and relax.
Petros stood, catching his attention. “Can I borrow that knife of yours?”
He eyed her for a moment, a low rumble of warning in the back of his mind like distant thunder, reviving his earlier suspicions of her.
“Sure.” He pulled the blade from the sheath in his belt and handed it over. If she noticed his momentary hesitation, she wasn’t giving any hint of it.
Using the weapon as a lever, she got the display screen free of the console.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. Again.” The lieutenant handed the knife back to him as she stepped over his stretched-out legs.
Outside, they returned to sit by the fire, where Jaren was still sleeping and Nazari snacked on MRE crackers. As he sat down, Petros paused to check on Jaren. A frown creased her brow when she straightened and came to sit closer to the fire.
“His breathing is too shallow. I’m worried if we don’t get rescued in the next few hours…” The lieutenant glanced upward, as if a ship would appear any second now.
He automatically laid a hand on her arm. “We can’t do anything more for him. Let’s just concentrate on what we can do.”
Truthfully, he was trying not to dwell on Jaren’s condition. He’d promised Mikel to watch out for his kid brother and had thought getting him assigned under his command on the Swift Brion would be the best solution. Instead, Jaren was lying seriously injured, miles from any help with no prospect of an immediate rescue. If he didn’t make it—
His guts clenched at a sensory memory of holding Mikel’s hand while the life had slipped from his body. He’d had to leave Mikel where he’d fallen, and the death of his buddy had lit a blaze of furious determination within him. He’d vowed to get out of that crumbling hell, the IPC drones leveling the city despite having friendlies on the ground. And he’d done it. Not a single other man in his unit had even sustained an injury. Later, they’d given him awards, fast-tracked promotions, and people still talked about it. But none of that could change the fact that he’d left Mikel behind.
No. He wouldn’t do the same with Jaren.
The lieutenant had bowed her head, touching the display screen and bringing it to life. While he helped himself to some of Nazari’s crackers, Petros took her commpad and attached it to the screen via one of the few wires she’d left hanging off it.
She blew out a long breath. “Okay, this thing is giving me GPS data, and we’ll definitely be able to use it to hike out if we have to. But it looks like the Swift Brion is out of range, and the display isn’t sensing any other ships in the immediate vicinity. I’ve got a signal, but it’s weak. No one is going to pick up the distress beacon unless they come within our immediate vicinity.”
Strange. No rescue team had come looking for them. Or if they had, they weren’t close enough to hail on the short range of the limited signal, whatever in the hell could be causing that. His gaze was drawn to Jaren, the weight of the kid’s fate settling like a mantle of rock on his shoulders.
“What are our options, Lieutenant?”
She sighed and scrolled through several screens of data. “I can set a program to continually search for any ships coming into range and give us an immediate warning. There’s no point sending out any transmission. No ship is going to hear it, and it’s not strong enough to reach the nearest city. It’ll just waste what little power we have.”
“All right. So my earlier suggestion is still the best way to go. We’ll give it tonight, see if that thing detects any ships in the area, and in the morning we’ll consider hiking out.”
She held up the display for him to see. A map showed two dots—one where they’d crashed and one representing the nearest civilization. “According to this, it’ll take about two days to hike out.”
He nodded, since he’d guessed as much. With two injured soldiers, it might be even longer. Trepidation dug into him with ice-cold claws of impotence. Depending on the extent of Jaren’s injury, there was every chance he didn’t even have two days. Somehow, he had to find a way to get Mikel’s kid brother out sooner rather than later.
The lieutenant spent a few more minutes working on the display, then set it aside. “Well, that’s about all we can do for the night.”
The shadows around their makeshift campsite were getting longer, so he gathered the packs and pulled out things they’d need after it got dark—extra flashlights, special paper-thin thermal blankets, plastic tarps in case of rain, even though the sky was clear, plus extra food and water.
Jaren stirred as he tucked one of the thermal blankets around him.
“Thanks, sir.” He reached up with one hand and wrapped his fingers into the material.
“Feeling any better?” The words were thick along the back of his throat.
Jaren nodded, though the slow movement wasn’t all that convincing. “I’m a bit sore, but I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will. Mikel always used to tell me you were one tough little bastard.”
Jaren laughed, but it turned into a cough. “I’m sure he said that and more. Used to annoy the crap out of him, following him around everywhere.”
“I hear that’s what younger brothers are good at.” He double-checked the blanket was secure. “Try to get as much rest as you can.”
Because if they decided to start hiking out tomorrow, the kid was going to need his energy.
He returned to his spot near the fire, adding a few more logs. The sun had gone down, and a violet twilight had set in. Birdsong gave way to insect chatter, creating a constant background noise. It’d been a long while since he’d been forced to sleep out anywhere, and the cooling air, with the star-dotted night sky above, brought back sharp memories of his years at war, especially those long months on Minnea without supplies.
He glanced over at Petros to distract himself before he could fall into the black hole of PTSD-worthy memories. She reached up to pull her ponytail free, letting her shiny black hair fall around her shoulders, the length of it almost reaching the middle of her back. In the glow of the firelight, her skin appeared smooth and flawless, her slate-gray eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the flames. He became suspended, mesmerized as she slowly twisted her hair into a long plait and then resecured it.
He’d been trying not to notice since she’d first turned to look at him at the Tocarra spaceport, but the woman was damned beautiful. And yes, he respected her intelligence and admired her sense of humor. However, too many suspicions about this situation, and her potential involvement, weighed like a string of meteorites around his neck.
His suspicions about her aside, she’d been assigned as his admiral’s assistant. There wasn’t another person on his entire ship he’d have a closer working relationship with. And now that he’d admitted he found her attractive in too many ways to count, he had to move past it, let it go, and not allow it to become an issue.
Muddying the waters of their association with any type of personal feelings would be bad for all concerned. Yeah, he’d been attracted to a female crew member once or twice before. But his career and professionalism always kept him detached, and he could do it again this time. Especially if he kept in mind she might not be who she appeared.
His gut told him there was something to this he couldn’t see yet, some vital piece of information missing. Until then, he’d keep her at arm’s length and keep a watchful eye on every move she made.
Petros glanced his way, catching him staring. For a moment he held her gaze, wanting to prove to himself that he could remain disconnected. Deep inside him, though, a low burn started, one he hadn’t felt for a long time. With a silent curse, he turned his attention to poking at the fire, sending a shower of sparks upward with the smoke.
The forced intimacy of their situation made things complicated. But as soon as they got back to the familiar surrounds of the Swift Brion and commenced a normal working affiliation, as soon as he could do some extra digging on her background and assure she was legit, everything would be in control, just as it should be.
He stole another look at her, and tension tightened his muscles. With any luck, a ship would come into range overnight and they’d be able to get Jaren the medical attention he needed and return things to normalcy sooner rather than later.
…
Mae leaned closer to the fire, trying in vain to soak up more warmth without looking desperate. Since the sun had gone down, it’d gotten damn cold. Now, wispy tendrils of white fog rolled out of the surrounding forest, making for a decidedly creepy atmosphere.
If she were a more practical kind of soldier, she would have gone back into the shuttle and helped herself to the dead officer’s coat. But she just couldn’t do it. Okay, so she’d seen and been a part of many horrible things over recent years in UAFA and with the IPC during the war. However, this wasn’t a war, and she’d rather stay a little on the cold side than wear a dead man’s jacket.
Jaren had fallen asleep a while ago, while Graydon and Nazari had settled into a conversation about some of the current happenings on the Swift Brion. She hadn’t bothered trying to join in, since she had no idea about the inner workings of the IPC flagship, but it was interesting to hear how involved Graydon seemed to be with his crew, knowing and caring about details that other captain admirals might not have bothered with.
A shiver racked her, and she crossed her arms tighter. Maybe if she moved down off the log and sat on the ground—
“Here, take this, Lieutenant.”
She glanced over to see the admiral holding out his jacket.
“Oh, no, thanks, sir. I’m okay.”
He sent her an exasperated look and stood, moving around Nazari to place the jacket over her shoulders. “And here I thought you were a smart woman. You’re shivering so hard, you look like you’re having a seizure.”
Instead of returning to where he’d been sitting, he dropped down next to her. The log wasn’t exactly long, and in order for them to both fit, he had to squash right up against her, his entire side pressed into her.
On one level, it seemed inappropriate to be practically sitting on her pretend commanding officer, a man who could be an alien she was supposed to be exposing. But damn, he was so warm. Heat radiated off him far more effectively than the fire. And as soon as his thick dress jacket had settled around her, the night cold was well and truly blocked out.
“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing up at him. Now that she’d heated up, she realized how tense and miserable she’d been. With a long breath, she relaxed, letting the warmth seep into her limbs.
“No problem. Can’t have the brains behind this operation freezing to death.”
She shook her head. “It’s cold, but I don’t think it’s going to get that cold. And what about you? We can’t exactly both fit into your jacket.”
A wicked glint lit up his toffee-colored eyes, and her breath stalled in her lungs. “I bet we could find a way to both fit. But you’re right. I don’t think it’ll get that bad. The thermal blanket will do me fine once we bunk down for the night.”
Forcing a calming breath before she went and did something idiotic like hyperventilate from a single devilish glance, she returned her attention to the fire. On the ground beside her feet, the display screen lit up, even as a chiming started.
“Has it detected a ship?” the admiral asked, leaning over to look.
She accessed the data, but her hand froze against the screen. Oh my god. Her heart faltered. No, it didn’t make sense—but the information didn’t lie.
“Incoming!” She jumped to her feet, gripping the display hard enough to make her knuckles ache. “A missile’s locked on this location. We’ve got just over a minute before this whole area gets blown to hell.”
Graydon’s expression turned stone cold and deadly as he shot to his feet. “Grab what you can and head for the far tree line.”
She shrugged her arms into the sleeves of the admiral’s jacket so it wouldn’t slip off, then grabbed three packs and headed over to lend an arm to Nazari, who’d started at a fast limp toward the dark, towering trees.
The admiral fell into step beside her with a still unconscious Jaren slung across his shoulders. As they made it to the trees, a high-pitched whistling echoed from above.
“Take cover!” Graydon’s words were sharp, but composed, making her war-honed instincts kick in and instinctively respond to his order.
Everything was murky and shadowed as she passed two more huge tree trunks. She couldn’t even see where she was putting her feet, let alone search out any decent shelter. A large hand closed around her arm and yanked her to the right. She went with the change in direction, pulling Nazari with her. Mae collapsed in a heap and ended up sandwiched between a warm, solid body and what felt like a smooth, cold rock face.
The whistling grew louder, so she ducked her head and pressed her hands over her ears, knowing what would come next. Everything lit up in an intense white flash, and she looked up to find Graydon crouched above her, a mere breath away, his gaze catching hers.
The final blast detonated, an explosion of sound cracking through the atmosphere like thunder, chased by an invisible wave of heat and energy. She flinched, and Graydon’s arm around her shoulder tightened. The bright light faded into the flickering orange of flames. Lucky the forest wasn’t dry, or their next concern would have been outrunning a wildfire.
The admiral released her and moved back, flicking on a flashlight. Not that it made much difference—she could see well enough with the burning wreckage illuminating the forest.
“Is everyone okay?” Graydon swung the light around as he looked at her and then Nazari.
She nodded as Nazari murmured a confirmation. The admiral turned to check on Jaren lying next the boulder they’d sheltered behind.
“G
oddamn it,” the admiral muttered, then dragged a hand over his face. His grim expression made her insides run cold.
Oh, no.
She swallowed, her throat too tight. “Is he—?”
“He’s alive, but I can’t bring him around. Without those medical supplies…” Graydon stared off toward what had become ground zero, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “Someone is damn well going to answer for this. When I get back to the Swift Brion, I’m not going to stop until I find out who the hell is responsible for this frecking disaster.”
“First we need to make it back in one piece,” she muttered, turning to lean against the cold rock surface.
Any doubts she’d had before just went up in flames along with the wreckage of their shuttle. A missile instead of a rescue ship?
Someone out there wanted to make sure no one had survived that crash. And unless Nazari or Jaren had some powerful enemies they didn’t know about, then either she or the captain admiral was the most obvious target.
This situation had turned into one huge problem, because either the Reidar were onto her, or somebody was trying to assassinate the admiral, which didn’t fit in with Rian’s suspicions that Zander Graydon was no longer human…
What if the Reidar planned to replace the admiral and this was their attempt to kill him so they could do just that? In that case, Graydon needed help and protection.
An ache of confusion started behind her forehead. She had no evidence to support either theory and she was on her own, with no one to help her sort out this mess. She’d been due to check in with Rian a few hours ago—he’d wanted an immediate report on her initial impressions of Graydon’s state of mind.
Well, she’d say Zander Graydon was pissed off and determined. That didn’t help her deduce whether or not he was human.
“It looks like our decision has been made for us,” Graydon said as he moved to sit with his back against the boulder next to her. “We’re going to have to hike out of here come morning. I’m not going to sit around and wait for whoever’s out there to take another shot at us.”
His gaze seemed to sharpen on her, and an uncomfortable buzz, like she was under interrogation, cut through her. She was meant to be scrutinizing him, so why did she suddenly feel like the one being examined?
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