But part of the burst came through with them. Kirek placed a hand on her back and propelled her forward, taking the tail end of the enemy fire. She turned to see an energy surge surround Kirek like a halo.
Stars. He had just saved her life and taken the blast himself, and at the sight of his slumped head and closed eyes, her gut knotted.
Barely keeping her panic at bay, Angel grabbed his wrist and began to reel him closer. “Kirek’s hit. He looks unconscious.”
“On my way.” Frie served as unofficial healer.
But Leval needed Frie at engineering to help deal with the Kraj. “Stay on the bridge,” Angel ordered while she spun, tugged Kirek’s wrist, snagged his pack, and turned off his booster.
She couldn’t have maneuvered the Rystani’s bulk without null grav. But after slowing his speed and ensuring they wouldn’t slam into the bulkhead, she removed her booster and then eased his from his shoulders.
Kirek’s bronze skin had paled. His eyes remained closed, his breathing was shallow. But at least he was still breathing. Placing a hand over his heart, she was pleased to hear a steady, rhythmic beat. Without knowing how much of the blast had struck him, she wasn’t sure what to do next.
If he’d been stunned by a hand blaster, he would come around in pain, nerves twitching. While he’d only suffered a partial hit, and most of the force had been cut off by first the Raven’s shields and then his psi, he’d nevertheless absorbed part of a shot meant to take out a starship.
After easing him onto the deck on his back, Angel leaned over him, her concern escalating with every passing second. The longer he remained unconscious, the worse the injury. She wanted to consult the computer for instructions, but at the same time she didn’t want to leave his side.
“Captain.” Frie’s worried voice broke in through the com. “The Kraj have broken off their attack.”
“Did they sustain damage?” Angel asked.
“Yes. We fired several shots, but only one locked on target. We’ve scored a direct hit to their port engine.”
Leval spoke through the com. “Captain, the other ship appears to be retreating.”
“Let me know if there’s a change.” If the Kraj ship attacked again, she had every confidence that her crew could hold their own until she made her way to the bridge, so she had no guilt over staying with the injured Kirek.
He’d told her his psi had been damaged during his long journey. Yet despite his injury, he’d placed himself in danger at the same time protecting her. She feared he’d burned out, short-circuited his mental pathways.
She had no idea if he was in a deep coma or a lighter stage of unconsciousness. As she realized she didn’t know how to help him, panic stole down her spine and froze her.
Do something.
What?
She’d spent time in hospitals—too much time. Think. She had to help him. If not for Kirek’s last-second push, the blast would have hit her, too. Now his fate might be in her hands, and she could do nothing except rock on her heels helplessly and shiver.
Injuries scared the good sense out of her. All her young life, she’d been around doctors, hospitals, and the injured and sick and infirm. In her experience, the doctors had been good only at sending bills. They hadn’t cured her mother or alleviated her pain or even eased her death. The years of disappointment now returned to swamp her.
Once again she suffered the frustration of not knowing what to do. This time she also had to deal with guilt. She’d allowed Kirek to help her. She’d allowed him to stay after she’d ordered him back to the ship. She’d been responsible for his well-being.
What if she’d gotten him killed, the only man who could save the Federation from the Zin? Stars. Sorrow, responsibility, and despair weighed on her shoulders, made her heart heavy.
Gently, Angel opened Kirek’s eyelid. His pupil was large and black, so dilated that only a blue rim showed. He didn’t focus on
Stars. He had just saved her life and taken the blast himself, and at the sight of his slumped head and closed eyes, her gut knotted.
Barely keeping her panic at bay, Angel grabbed his wrist and began to reel him closer. “Kirek’s hit. He looks unconscious.”
“On my way.” Frie served as unofficial healer.
But Leval needed Frie at engineering to help deal with the Kraj. “Stay on the bridge,” Angel ordered while she spun, tugged Kirek’s wrist, snagged his pack, and turned off his booster.
She couldn’t have maneuvered the Rystani’s bulk without null grav. But after slowing his speed and ensuring they wouldn’t slam into the bulkhead, she removed her booster and then eased his from his shoulders.
Kirek’s bronze skin had paled. His eyes remained closed, his breathing was shallow. But at least he was still breathing. Placing a hand over his heart, she was pleased to hear a steady, rhythmic beat. Without knowing how much of the blast had struck him, she wasn’t sure what to do next.
If he’d been stunned by a hand blaster, he would come around in pain, nerves twitching. While he’d only suffered a partial hit, and most of the force had been cut off by first the Raven’s shields and then his psi, he’d nevertheless absorbed part of a shot meant to take out a starship.
After easing him onto the deck on his back, Angel leaned over him, her concern escalating with every passing second. The longer he remained unconscious, the worse the injury. She wanted to consult the computer for instructions, but at the same time she didn’t want to leave his side.
“Captain.” Frie’s worried voice broke in through the com. “The Kraj have broken off their attack.”
“Did they sustain damage?” Angel asked.
“Yes. We fired several shots, but only one locked on target. We’ve scored a direct hit to their port engine.”
Leval spoke through the com. “Captain, the other ship appears to be retreating.”
“Let me know if there’s a change.” If the Kraj ship attacked again, she had every confidence that her crew could hold their own until she made her way to the bridge, so she had no guilt over staying with the injured Kirek.
He’d told her his psi had been damaged during his long journey. Yet despite his injury, he’d placed himself in danger at the same time protecting her. She feared he’d burned out, short-circuited his mental pathways.
She had no idea if he was in a deep coma or a lighter stage of unconsciousness. As she realized she didn’t know how to help him, panic stole down her spine and froze her.
Do something.
What?
She’d spent time in hospitals—too much time. Think. She had to help him. If not for Kirek’s last-second push, the blast would have hit her, too. Now his fate might be in her hands, and she could do nothing except rock on her heels helplessly and shiver.
Injuries scared the good sense out of her. All her young life, she’d been around doctors, hospitals, and the injured and sick and infirm. In her experience, the doctors had been good only at sending bills. They hadn’t cured her mother or alleviated her pain or even eased her death. The years of disappointment now returned to swamp her.
Once again she suffered the frustration of not knowing what to do. This time she also had to deal with guilt. She’d allowed Kirek to help her. She’d allowed him to stay after she’d ordered him back to the ship. She’d been responsible for his well-being.
What if she’d gotten him killed, the only man who could save the Federation from the Zin? Stars. Sorrow, responsibility, and despair weighed on her shoulders, made her heart heavy.
Gently, Angel opened Kirek’s eyelid. His pupil was large and black, so dilated that only a blue rim showed. He didn’t focus on
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