As Makkon turned toward the door, Brax’s comm pin beeped.
“We’ve got engineering, sir,” Dornic reported. “No losses on our part.”
Makkon juggled Tamryn in his arms so he could activate his own comm. “Good work, Dornic. Brax is taking a nap now, but I’m sure he’ll approve too.”
“A nap?”
“I’ll explain later. Have your team sweep the rest of the ship, level by level, take down any remaining pirates. We’ll consider what to do with our captured craft later. Our team is heading back to the hatch. Someone better get back to the station before any trouble breaks out there.”
“Yes, hunt leader.”
Reminded of the station and their hostages, Makkon switched channels. “Zar? Everything all right over there?”
Several seconds passed with no response.
A chill went through Makkon. Those scientists couldn’t have overpowered Zar, could they have? Or outsmarted him somehow? Thus far, they hadn’t been much trouble, but there were still thirty of them, and they were presumably intelligent people.
Makkon looked down at Tamryn, wondering if she knew anything, but sleeping women kept their secrets. Besides, she had been with him for the last few hours. She probably hadn’t been informed as to any plans.
“Zar,” Makkon repeated. “If you hear me, answer me.”
Wherever he was, Zar remained silent.
Chapter 15
Tamryn awoke in Makkon’s arms, the familiar gray ceiling panels of the station drifting past above her. Having Makkon holding her to his chest was less familiar. She did not want to admit that she didn’t find it all that horrible, so instead, she lifted her head, trying to figure out what had happened. She spotted Brax walking behind them. Brax looked groggy, but nobody was carrying him. He was speaking irritably into his comm unit, trying to raise one of his men who wasn’t responding.
“We defeated the pirate captain and his people,” Makkon murmured to Tamryn.
The way he gazed down at her through half-lidded eyes made her think he expected a response. Some acknowledgment of his bravery and battle prowess? She was glad the pirates had been defeated, especially if it had happened before the leader shared information about her family, but that only meant that she and Makkon were back on opposing sides now. She shouldn’t be enjoying the feel of his muscles pressed against her, and she certainly shouldn’t be letting him carry her.
“Good,” she said. It was all she could manage. “Can you let me down? I can walk.”
A hint of disappointment flashed through his blue eyes, but he stopped to lower her to the deck. She felt bad that she had hurt his feelings, even though she knew she shouldn’t. It was his fault he had taken over her station and killed everyone, not hers.
Her legs wobbled, but she did manage to stand with the help of a bulkhead. Her time unconscious hadn’t done anything to make her puncture wound feel better, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from hissing with pain when she moved her shoulder. Blood saturated the top of her T-shirt, but the Gar-zymes woven into the material should be working on cleaning that. Her injury, on the other hand, would require some outside assistance to heal. She wished she had seen that shrapnel coming and dodged it. Still, her injuries could have been much worse, since she didn’t have the men’s superior reflexes or superior anything. Getting involved had been foolish. Still, she had felt obligated to assist against the pirates, especially after seeing the bodies of those Fleet officers shoved up against the walls of the corridor like so many crates that had been pushed out of the way.
Brax glared around Makkon and at her, probably annoyed at the delay. At least he didn’t grab her by the back of the neck.
Tamryn forced her jelly-like legs to propel her down the corridor toward the lounge. Her muscles trembled slightly, and she didn’t know if it was an aftereffect of the gas or an aftereffect of the battle. During the fighting, she’d been furious, terrified, and nervous all at once, so much so that she’d almost thrown up on the back of Makkon’s boots early on. If not for the fury, she didn’t know if she would have gotten through the chaos and performed respectably. She’d never been one to freeze or choke in a contest or sports competition, but this had been her first time in anything except simulated battles, practice games during the academy field exercises. As she had found, hunting human beings was very different from hunting ducks. Even now, her stomach roiled at the memory of people dying by her rifle, the horrified and agonized expressions on their faces as they fell.
The Glacian who had been on the bridge with them jogged down the hallway toward them, coming from the lounge.
“Empty, sir,” he said. “Except for one of the wounded soldiers. They must not have been able to carry him along.”
Tamryn kept her face neutral, though she perked up inside. Had Porter and the others escaped?
“Zar?” Makkon asked while Brax swore.
“Not in the lounge, sir.”
Brax cursed again and looked to Makkon. “He wouldn’t have abandoned his post, would he?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I can’t believe they would have overpowered him.”
They reached the door to the lounge, and Makkon nudged Tamryn to direct her inside.
“I’ll look around,” he told Brax and tilted his head toward the lounge.
Tamryn leaned against the wall next to the door, feeling pleased but also stunned that the others had escaped. She wondered where they had gone. It stung not to have been told, but the plan might have been formulated hastily when the pirate attack had started. She told herself that it didn’t mean anything that Anise hadn’t hinted of anything to her. Still, a part of her wondered if the scientists had seen her talking with Makkon and being out of the lounge often enough that they had questioned her loyalty. That would be unbearable.
As Brax glared at her, Tamryn told herself it was better this way, that she didn’t know where the others were. Whatever they were doing, they wouldn’t need a lieutenant fresh out of the academy to help them. Besides, Makkon had probably spent enough time with her by now that he could track her anywhere on the station. She wouldn’t want to lead him to the others again, especially if they had a plan and were doing more than hiding.
Makkon stalked around the lounge, his gaze toward the floor as he occasionally crouched to peer at something or touch something. A few times, he brought his fingers to his nose. He gave a long considering look to the wounded soldier lying unconscious near the portholes—Gruzinsky—and Tamryn shifted uncomfortably, worried the Glacians would interrogate or kill him because he had been left behind. The repair kit she had left working on his abdominal wound would have made progress in the past hours, but he had probably been unconscious for the entire escape.
As Makkon continued checking around the lounge, Brax spoke on his comm, giving orders to his men, who were apparently finishing up on the pirate ship. “Check the comm stations,” he said. “They’ll try to send a message to their headquarters with our numbers, numbers that are much smaller than I led them to believe when I sent our message. Either find a way to sabotage the equipment so they can’t use it, or leave someone there to guard it. After you’ve made sure the main and auxiliary stations can’t be used, find those prisoners. Next time, we’ll lock them in a vault. A small vault.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And look for Zar too. I don’t know where he is, but he should have reported in before leaving his post.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tamryn closed her eyes, feeling as if the wall at her back was the only thing keeping her from collapsing from weariness. She made herself walk over to check on Gruzinsky. Brax’s gaze followed her, but he didn’t try to stop her. Makkon was returning to him, a dark smudge on his fingertips. Blood? No, it looked more like some powder, but he passed her before she could get a look.
Gruzinsky was, indeed, unconscious, but the repair kit indicated it was working and that he was stable. She laid a hand on his chest. “You’re doing well, Sergeant,” she sai
d. “Nothing to worry about.”
She hoped she wasn’t lying.
“...not sure what it is,” Makkon was saying. “I don’t recognize the scent, beyond that it’s some chemical formula.”
“Something one of them had all along? Or something that was brought to them?” Brax scowled. “I thought we’d found all of them.”
“Maybe something one of them stuck in a pocket—or a shoe. We didn’t do as good a job searching the prisoners as we should have.” Makkon glanced as Tamryn. She avoided his gaze, thinking of the knife she had managed to keep in her pocket and almost stab him with. “Likely, nobody thought the civilians would be any trouble,” Makkon continued.
Brax grunted. “All right. Stay here with those two.” He turned for the door.
Makkon’s back stiffened. “Stay? I’m the logical person to go on the search. I’m a hunt leader.”
“I know what you are.” Did Brax’s voice sound slightly of condemnation? “But until we can round up the others, they’re our only hostages. Look up her name while you’re lounging around in here. Find out why that pirate wanted her.”
Tamryn winced. She had hoped they would have forgotten about that. Didn’t they have other problems to be concerned about?
Makkon looked like he might object again, but he let Brax leave without another word. He walked toward Tamryn, irritation stamped on his face. She stood to face him, wondering if she should be more worried about being interrogated than Gruzinsky.
Makkon stopped in front of her and pointed at the first-aid kit. “Any bandages left in there?”
His gaze flicked toward her shoulder, her wound, she realized. The deep gouge had stopped bleeding, but the muscle and flesh should be knitted back together.
“Yes, and some Knit Gel.”
He bent to rummage through the supplies and glanced at the repair kit working on Gruzinsky’s abdomen. It was the only one. He wasn’t thinking of taking it to use on her, was he? Or maybe he was back to wondering if the man could be awakened and questioned.
“I’m fine,” Tamryn said. “I can wait until things settle down.”
Makkon grabbed bandages and some supplies. “Come.”
Glad he had stopped eyeing Gruzinsky, Tamryn followed him to the table in the center of the room. Several but not all of the rifles and tablets that had been dumped there the night before had been taken. For whatever good it would do, the scientists were armed. If Anise, Cox, and Powell were with them, they had some people trained to use those weapons, though she did not know how effective Powell would be with his right arm missing.
Makkon surprised her by grasping her hips and lifting her to sit on the edge of the table. He took some laser scissors from the kit and moved to cut open the collar of her shirt.
“Wait,” she said.
Though she wasn’t sure she wanted Makkon to see her topless, the blood stains had already faded, and she saw no reason to sacrifice her clothing. She almost changed her mind when she lifted her arms overhead, and fresh pain stabbed her. But she removed the shirt and laid it on the table beside her, avoiding Makkon’s eyes and staring down at the bandages. She was aware of how close he was; she could practically feel the heat from his body. Not that he would have sex on his mind now, not when dried blood spattered her chest.
He had grown very still as she removed the shirt, but he cleared his throat and selected an antibacterial cleaning solution.
“You fought well,” he said, dabbing on some cool goo.
Tamryn bit her lip to keep herself from thanking him. It would have been a reasonable thing to do, and after fighting side-by-side with him, she found it harder than ever to think of him as the enemy. But she couldn’t forget that he was exactly that. The enemy of her enemy might be an ally... but only temporarily.
He broke open a sani-cloth and reached toward her chest to clean the dried blood, but hesitated. “Maybe you want to do this?”
The idea of him touching her chest—her breasts—even if it was with a damp cloth instead of his fingers made her flush. “Yeah.”
She scrubbed herself thoroughly. She should have taken off her bra to make it easier, but that involved baring too much of herself. The shirt was bad enough. Still, she imagined he saw plenty as she pulled the material and straps away to swab herself clean. She glanced up to see if he was watching.
A gentleman would have looked away, but his gaze was fixed on her chest, his eyes intent.
“Did I get it all?” she asked.
“What?” Makkon asked, his voice hoarse. He jerked his gaze up and looked away, his face flushed. Well, at least she had embarrassed him. “Yes.” He cleared his throat again. “Yes, they’re fine. I mean, it’s fine. Clean.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “As I was saying, you fought well. It wasn’t your first battle, I assume?”
Tamryn hesitated, not sure if she should tell the truth. Still, that was what came out. “Actually, it was. My first real one. Though I had practice shooting at some asshole stalking me yesterday.” She felt bad calling him an asshole after he’d gone out of his way to protect her, but she couldn’t start thinking of him as anything else. That was too dangerous.
He smiled, a sad smile. It did not seem as if she should have the power to hurt him with her insults, but maybe she did. Instead of making her feel triumphant, that made her feel like an asshole. She almost apologized, but she bit her lip again to keep from doing so and looked away from him.
“It’s fortunate for me that your aim is better when pirates are involved.” Makkon finished cleaning her wound and pulled out the Knit Gel.
“My aim is fine. You’re just a crappy target.”
He snorted. “Thank you.”
She almost smiled but stopped herself. He was more dangerous when he was being quiet and nice than when he was in full-on warrior mode. Even though it stung when he applied the gel to her bare skin, she found herself aware of the brush of his fingers, the gentleness of his touch. A tingle of sensation ran through her, more powerful than the pain.
He leaned against the side of her thigh as he reached for the bandages, and her body hummed contentedly at this contact. The memory of kissing his bare chest came to mind, creating heat in her groin. She looked toward the ceiling, the very plain and boring ceiling, trying to forget those memories and the fact that she had enjoyed her attempted seduction far too much.
“Many people are too scared to act or think properly during their first battle,” Makkon said, looking at her with a smile, his expression proud.
She found herself staring back at the smile—at him. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter one iota, but for some reason, her inclination was to bask in the praise. And to enjoy that smile, too, one directed at her and no one else, one that seemed honest, genuine.
“I’m sure I would have been scared,” she whispered, aware that his mouth wasn’t that far from hers, “but I was too pissed. They killed everyone.” Emotion flooded her voice as the images of the dead officers washed over her again. “And they just left the bodies, pushing them out of the way like—” She broke off when she remembered who she was talking to. Had his people done anything with the bodies of those who had fallen in engineering? Or just left them where they had died? Probably the latter. Why would terrorists and invaders worry about dignity or respect for the fallen?
For a moment, neither of them spoke. He must have known exactly what she was thinking. He lowered his gaze to his hands and tore off a piece of bandage, the sticky side embedded with a numbing agent.
“Fury isn’t the ideal emotion to carry into battle,” Makkon said. “If it keeps you alive, it can be useful, but it leaves you as tense as fear. That makes your muscles slower to react than if you’re able to stay relaxed. We teach a mind-breathing technique that helps keep you calm even when chaos is all around you, and you’re being shot at or attacked by a huge predator. I could show you sometime if you like.” He was looking at her wound, but he glanced at her face through his lashes, wary again, probably not certain if she w
ould snap at him.
Once again, she felt like a jerk for making him feel that way around her.
“Will it make me as fast as you?” Tamryn asked.
“Who knows? I’m a very good teacher.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
She swallowed, again struggling to think of him as an enemy when he smiled at her and spoke playfully. She didn’t want him to finish tending to her wound. Even if it hurt, she liked having him close. She shouldn’t like it, but she did.
Tamryn sighed and dropped her head. She hadn’t intended for it to rest on his shoulder, but his shoulder was close enough that it happened. He grew still, not moving for a moment. Then he finished applying the bandage and set the first-aid supplies aside.
Before she could do more than think about sliding off the table and getting some rest, he brought his hand up to the back of her neck. She tensed slightly, remembering the times he had steered her around that way, but his touch was light, his fingers caring rather than cruel as they massaged her. They probed gently, finding balls of tightness in her muscles, and working them until they loosened.
The relief was so intense that she almost groaned. She did melt as he stroked her, slumping against him, all of the tension bleeding out of her. In her mind, she knew this was wrong—she should be tense around her enemies, not melting into a puddle of goo in their arms—but after everything she had endured, she was too weary too resist. And she didn’t want to resist. She was tired of fighting him, and this felt so good.
His hands moved down to her back, finding more knots in her trapezius muscles. “It starts with the breathing,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “Even breaths, in and out through your nose, and you focus on your heart, as if the air is going in and out of it.”
“You’re doing this while people are shooting at you?” Tamryn murmured, barely able to think with her muscles loosening under his hands. Concentrating on breathing sounded like it would take too much effort. Anything would. Much easier to simply lay her head on his shoulder and let him massage her.
“Ideally, you’ll have a few quiet minutes to think about it before the shooting starts. It helps to practice when you’re in less stressful situations, so you can more easily find your way into the calm, measured breathing when there’s time. In addition to focusing on your heart and breathing, you want to think of things that engage your positive emotions, like love, compassion, pleasure.”
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 17
