before we even landed. They destroyed our craft and we crashed. From there, they started a full assault on the ship, keeping rescue at bay. Finally, I was able to get through with a few orders."
"What?” Kartel's green eyes held intense curiosity besides his obvious pain and weakness. Mangled and bloody, he seemed only half-conscious, but it was better than nothing.
"We took out the capital.” Ian was no diplomat and he was not going to apologize for having a heavy hand. He'd recommended that strategy all along. “Most of their population and the full seat of their government. If they didn't expect it, they were fools. They cannot attack diplomatic S-species envoys. In my mind, if they didn't want to talk, that's just fine. We can deal with each other in a much simpler way."
"Simple?” Ran smiled, a ghost of the real thing curving his lips.
"Dead is simple,” Ian explained succinctly. “No matter the race, everyone understands death. Most universally decline the honor."
"I didn't ... want ... that."
"I didn't, either. They did. You do peace. Let me handle war."
"You got it.” His friend's eyes drifted shut, his pallor pronounced.
"Whoa. None of that. You aren't leaving, got it? Tell me, what do you see for our lovely Jerra? Surely you've had visions? Come on, stay here and we'll talk about it."
"She looks even more beautiful pregnant, but who knows if it is mine. I've been having some problems seeing clearly lately and we all know she is supposed to be bred."
"It's yours.” Ian fought the tightness in his throat. “I feel it like I felt the ominous repercussions of this fucking misguided mission."
"Right now ... she's frightened."
"I would guess. They've been blasting at the ship, but once we were clear and their main defenses eradicated, it should be quiet up there. Plus, Kia is with her."
"Kia is as frightened as she is."
Ian felt his mouth tighten. He said gruffly, “That isn't possible, Ran. She's a soldier. Trained, hardened, and experienced."
"She's in love. It changes the chemistry ... of ... everything."
Damned insight. Ian was infinitely glad he didn't have it. “We're here. Everything is going to be fine now."
"Is it?"
Ian said firmly, “Yes."
The doors opened and the first medical staff poured in. Ian saw them check visibly as they registered the severity of the injuries of the occupants of the craft, and he told the nearest doctor briefly, “Bomb."
The man nodded and dropped to his knees next to Kartel, shouting for assistance. Ian was shouldered out of the way and he reluctantly left his friend in more competent hands.
Moments later, he was glanced over by a young female doctor who apologetically pronounced his wounds superficial and left him for someone who needed her more. Unfortunately, there were plenty of those. Regardless of his rank, he handed over bandages, carried stretchers, and did whatever he could for his men.
When he first spotted Jerra, he thought perhaps he was hallucinating. She was bent over a fallen man, her small hands busy at work with what looked like professional competence as she dressed a wound, her long unbound hair like a golden curtain. Despite his injuries, the fallen solider was smiling and Ian really couldn't quite blame the young male. Considering the low cut front of her almost translucent dress, he probably had one hell of a wonderful view of her spectacular breasts.
If Jerra was there...
"You're bleeding, Ian.” Liale spoke gruffly as she strode toward him, but her face was pale. Her eyes glittered as she scanned his myriad of cuts and scrapes. “Why aren't you being treated?"
"I'm told it is insignificant and I agree."
"It looks bad.” She gestured at the blood dripping from his fingers.
"Take my word, it's just a few flesh wounds and forget it."
She muttered something about a stubborn male and he grinned for the first time since the explosion and crash, feeling a moment of light-hearted relief. “You have no idea,” he informed her,
"What?” Kartel's green eyes held intense curiosity besides his obvious pain and weakness. Mangled and bloody, he seemed only half-conscious, but it was better than nothing.
"We took out the capital.” Ian was no diplomat and he was not going to apologize for having a heavy hand. He'd recommended that strategy all along. “Most of their population and the full seat of their government. If they didn't expect it, they were fools. They cannot attack diplomatic S-species envoys. In my mind, if they didn't want to talk, that's just fine. We can deal with each other in a much simpler way."
"Simple?” Ran smiled, a ghost of the real thing curving his lips.
"Dead is simple,” Ian explained succinctly. “No matter the race, everyone understands death. Most universally decline the honor."
"I didn't ... want ... that."
"I didn't, either. They did. You do peace. Let me handle war."
"You got it.” His friend's eyes drifted shut, his pallor pronounced.
"Whoa. None of that. You aren't leaving, got it? Tell me, what do you see for our lovely Jerra? Surely you've had visions? Come on, stay here and we'll talk about it."
"She looks even more beautiful pregnant, but who knows if it is mine. I've been having some problems seeing clearly lately and we all know she is supposed to be bred."
"It's yours.” Ian fought the tightness in his throat. “I feel it like I felt the ominous repercussions of this fucking misguided mission."
"Right now ... she's frightened."
"I would guess. They've been blasting at the ship, but once we were clear and their main defenses eradicated, it should be quiet up there. Plus, Kia is with her."
"Kia is as frightened as she is."
Ian felt his mouth tighten. He said gruffly, “That isn't possible, Ran. She's a soldier. Trained, hardened, and experienced."
"She's in love. It changes the chemistry ... of ... everything."
Damned insight. Ian was infinitely glad he didn't have it. “We're here. Everything is going to be fine now."
"Is it?"
Ian said firmly, “Yes."
The doors opened and the first medical staff poured in. Ian saw them check visibly as they registered the severity of the injuries of the occupants of the craft, and he told the nearest doctor briefly, “Bomb."
The man nodded and dropped to his knees next to Kartel, shouting for assistance. Ian was shouldered out of the way and he reluctantly left his friend in more competent hands.
Moments later, he was glanced over by a young female doctor who apologetically pronounced his wounds superficial and left him for someone who needed her more. Unfortunately, there were plenty of those. Regardless of his rank, he handed over bandages, carried stretchers, and did whatever he could for his men.
When he first spotted Jerra, he thought perhaps he was hallucinating. She was bent over a fallen man, her small hands busy at work with what looked like professional competence as she dressed a wound, her long unbound hair like a golden curtain. Despite his injuries, the fallen solider was smiling and Ian really couldn't quite blame the young male. Considering the low cut front of her almost translucent dress, he probably had one hell of a wonderful view of her spectacular breasts.
If Jerra was there...
"You're bleeding, Ian.” Liale spoke gruffly as she strode toward him, but her face was pale. Her eyes glittered as she scanned his myriad of cuts and scrapes. “Why aren't you being treated?"
"I'm told it is insignificant and I agree."
"It looks bad.” She gestured at the blood dripping from his fingers.
"Take my word, it's just a few flesh wounds and forget it."
She muttered something about a stubborn male and he grinned for the first time since the explosion and crash, feeling a moment of light-hearted relief. “You have no idea,” he informed her,
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