sighed. “Peserin, but my face hurts.”
Glancing up, Tiber had to agree the ensign had taken the worse beating. “Go lie down. It looks like you might have an orbital fracture as well as a broken nose.”
“After I’ve spoken with the commander. He’s on his way.”
“Fine.” Tiber focused on Jasmine King once more. “Empran, image and assess this subject’s head injuries.”
“Commencing cranial scan.” Seconds later a holograph of the female’s skull appeared above her head and he studied it with interest. “No fractures detected. Level two trauma to left temporalis.”
He frowned at an anomaly in her septal structure. It almost looked as if she had a fully developed bilateral vomeronasal organ. Most Terrans had them unilaterally at birth, but by the time they reached puberty, the organs had regressed to such a degree they could be considered vestigial.
Of course the so-called Halethoid mutations were occurring with increasing regularity as Terrans’ physiology finally overcame the adverse effects of Sol’s light, and this might very well be one of those developments. He’d have to examine the scan more closely later.
“Brain trauma?”
The image switched to physio mode.
“Level two-minus.”
“Empran, assess the ensign’s facial injuries.”
As he suspected, Hastion’s nose and cheekbone were fractured. “You lost consciousness?”
Hastion grimaced. “Not for long.”
A low moan made him look down. Brushing the loose hairs from her forehead, he asked, “Miss King, can you hear me?”
She moaned again and turned her face into his palm. Her smile as she nuzzled him made Tiber’s chest contract like he’d just been spaced. He was fighting for breath when her lashes fluttered, and then eyes bluer than an Ethrian sunset blinked at him before a frown furrowed her brow. “My head hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. You’ve got a slight concussion.” His voice sounded disturbingly breathless.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Infirmary Three, aboard the Heptoral .”
She looked around and her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“There’s no need—”
Before he could reassure her, she’d knocked his hand away and rolled off the other side of the bed. She tried to stand up and Tiber reached over the mattress to catch her before she fell over, but she stumbled back against the next bed.
“Don’t touch me!” She hung on to the edge of the bed, blinking rapidly. Sweat broke out on her upper lip as she panted. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s the concussion, Miss King,” Tiber said softly as he rounded the foot of the bed. “You need to lie down. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
“No! I want to see Monica.” She dropped to her hands and knees and lowered her forehead to the floor. “Please, just get Dr. Teague.”
The infirmary door slid open and Commander Kellen strode in. His gaze darkened as it zeroed in on Hastion. “Ensign Hastion, report.”
Lieutenant Shauss strolled in behind the commander and his dark eyes settled immediately on Miss King. There was that proprietary air again. Tiber’s hackles rose.
Hastion sighed before reporting, “Miss King attacked me, Sir.”
Kellen’s eyes widened as he took in the ensign’s condition. “The hell you say! For what reason?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“Well, what were you doing at the time?”
“Standing guard outside the Voya escape pods.”
“And she launched an unprovoked attack.”
“Well, Sir, she was running laps around the deck, which Ensign Beral reports is not unusual. She dropped her hydration bottle, and when I bent to pick it up for her, she kicked my face in.”
Kellen stared at him for a moment before glancing at Jasmine, who hadn’t looked at any of them yet. “Apparently you subdued her.”
“Once I regained consciousness,” Hastion confessed gruffly.
Kellen brushed past him and crouched beside her. “Miss King, I hope you have a good reason for assaulting one of my
Glancing up, Tiber had to agree the ensign had taken the worse beating. “Go lie down. It looks like you might have an orbital fracture as well as a broken nose.”
“After I’ve spoken with the commander. He’s on his way.”
“Fine.” Tiber focused on Jasmine King once more. “Empran, image and assess this subject’s head injuries.”
“Commencing cranial scan.” Seconds later a holograph of the female’s skull appeared above her head and he studied it with interest. “No fractures detected. Level two trauma to left temporalis.”
He frowned at an anomaly in her septal structure. It almost looked as if she had a fully developed bilateral vomeronasal organ. Most Terrans had them unilaterally at birth, but by the time they reached puberty, the organs had regressed to such a degree they could be considered vestigial.
Of course the so-called Halethoid mutations were occurring with increasing regularity as Terrans’ physiology finally overcame the adverse effects of Sol’s light, and this might very well be one of those developments. He’d have to examine the scan more closely later.
“Brain trauma?”
The image switched to physio mode.
“Level two-minus.”
“Empran, assess the ensign’s facial injuries.”
As he suspected, Hastion’s nose and cheekbone were fractured. “You lost consciousness?”
Hastion grimaced. “Not for long.”
A low moan made him look down. Brushing the loose hairs from her forehead, he asked, “Miss King, can you hear me?”
She moaned again and turned her face into his palm. Her smile as she nuzzled him made Tiber’s chest contract like he’d just been spaced. He was fighting for breath when her lashes fluttered, and then eyes bluer than an Ethrian sunset blinked at him before a frown furrowed her brow. “My head hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. You’ve got a slight concussion.” His voice sounded disturbingly breathless.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Infirmary Three, aboard the Heptoral .”
She looked around and her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“There’s no need—”
Before he could reassure her, she’d knocked his hand away and rolled off the other side of the bed. She tried to stand up and Tiber reached over the mattress to catch her before she fell over, but she stumbled back against the next bed.
“Don’t touch me!” She hung on to the edge of the bed, blinking rapidly. Sweat broke out on her upper lip as she panted. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“That’s the concussion, Miss King,” Tiber said softly as he rounded the foot of the bed. “You need to lie down. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
“No! I want to see Monica.” She dropped to her hands and knees and lowered her forehead to the floor. “Please, just get Dr. Teague.”
The infirmary door slid open and Commander Kellen strode in. His gaze darkened as it zeroed in on Hastion. “Ensign Hastion, report.”
Lieutenant Shauss strolled in behind the commander and his dark eyes settled immediately on Miss King. There was that proprietary air again. Tiber’s hackles rose.
Hastion sighed before reporting, “Miss King attacked me, Sir.”
Kellen’s eyes widened as he took in the ensign’s condition. “The hell you say! For what reason?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“Well, what were you doing at the time?”
“Standing guard outside the Voya escape pods.”
“And she launched an unprovoked attack.”
“Well, Sir, she was running laps around the deck, which Ensign Beral reports is not unusual. She dropped her hydration bottle, and when I bent to pick it up for her, she kicked my face in.”
Kellen stared at him for a moment before glancing at Jasmine, who hadn’t looked at any of them yet. “Apparently you subdued her.”
“Once I regained consciousness,” Hastion confessed gruffly.
Kellen brushed past him and crouched beside her. “Miss King, I hope you have a good reason for assaulting one of my
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