He began to shake his head and broke the movement short with a stifled groan. “I do not know the condition of the rest of the ship. It is not safe for you to venture through it alone. I will go. This area of the ship appears secure for now. You will stay here and I will return for you as soon as I am able.”
She scowled. “Oh, for God’s sake, you can’t even stand up! Just tell me where the damn kit is.”
“My Hope,” he growled. “You are not even wearing shoes.”
He was right. She was still clad in the silky, sexy nightgown. She’d been in such a rush to go after R’har right before the attack she hadn’t even grabbed her underwear.
“I think I have enough brains to watch where I step,” she said dryly.
“It is not a question of your intelligence! In a ship this badly damaged, there is no telling what hazards you may face between here and the medical bay.” His jaw was set. “As your lifemate I will not allow you to go.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Allow me? I hate to point this out, R’har, but I don’t think you could take on a kitten right now and I’m pretty mobile for someone you’re trying to boss around.”
His face was alarmingly pale but a muscle twitched in his cheek. “Where I come from,” he growled, “females honor their lifemate’s instinct to protect.”
“And where I come from we don’t put the one with the serious head injury in charge.” Hope folded her arms. “So you can either tell me where the kit is and I’ll go or—if you’re really up for a stroll—we can go to sickbay together.”
His glowing green eyes narrowed. “Are all human females this stubborn?”
“Yeah,” she said, meeting him look for look. “Get used to it.”
His huffing laugh was quickly cut short. He winced in pain and blood seeped through his bandage.
“Okay, enough already, let’s get you to the medical bay, ” Hope said, putting her hand under his elbow. “Try standing up, you can lean on me.”
He drew in a deep breath and pushed himself up. Hope hurriedly clasped his wrist to drape his arm over her shoulder as he stood, then slid her arm around his waist to steady him. He took a shuffling half-step, leaning heavily on her, then another.
“Great,” she muttered when the cockpit door didn’t open at her wave. She didn’t know much about g’hir warriors but if R’har was typical of his species there was one thing she could say for sure—they weren’t light. “Sometimes they open, sometimes they won’t. Do these things just know how to piss me off?”
R’har’s face was drawn but his growl was patient. “The power outage affects the doors as well, little one.”
“Right,” she said, her glance darting around the cockpit at the dead controls. “Do you know why the power’s out?”
He gave a faint smile. “Certainly not an ill-advised jump into a planetary atmosphere.”
“Funny. I meant do you know a way to get the power back on? Or maybe how I can?”
He gave the ruined control room a meaningful glance. “I would judge this ship a total loss and we have not even left the cockpit. Restoring power will not be a simple repair—if it is even possible.”
Hope wet her lips. “What about the medical bay?”
If the equipment there didn’t function she’d have no way to treat R’har or even know for sure how badly he was hurt.
“The medical bay has extra shielding and a redundant energy system,” he said but his deep growl sounded very tired now. “I am hopeful it is still functional.”
“It will be.” Hope narrowed her gaze at the exit. “We just need to get there.”
“There is a manual release for the door behind that lower panel.” But when he took a step in that direction he swayed on his feet and she hurriedly leaned him against the cockpit wall, using it—and her own weight—to brace him upright.
“Don’t you dare pass out, R’har. All I remember from first aid class is how to apply a tourniquet,” she warned. “Probably not the best choice for a head wound.”
“But it would stop the bleeding.” He managed another faint smile. “And spare you my poor jokes.”
“Still, I vote we try for the medical bay first. Here.” She moved his hand to one of the rear chair’s headrests. “Hold onto this. I’ll get the door open.”
Hope brushed some of the debris away so she could kneel in front of the compartment. Using the tips of her fingers she managed to pry the panel open. The recessed compartment had a number of controls and a handle.
“What do I do?” she asked, peering into the space.
“Hit the first two controls simultaneously then rotate the handle to the right. The door seal will release and the door will slide open easily.”
She hit the two controls but the handle was g’hir sized so she needed to use two hands to clasp it. She pushed hard but the handle seemed wielded into place. “Goddamn, sonofabitch—!”
“I will—”
“I’ve got this! Just give me one fucking—!”
With a metallic scraping sound the handle finally budged but it took all of her weight to move it into place. Finally, with a low hiss, the door seal released.
“See?” she said standing, though her hands were hurting from pushing on the handle. “No problem.”
She fit her fingertips into the scant space between the door and doorframe then widened her stance, braced herself, and pulled hard.
The door moved a measly inch.
“Oh, you have got to be freaking kidding me!” Gritting her teeth, Hope pulled again and managed to widen the opening another few centimeters. She paused, breathing hard from the effort, and threw R’har an apologetic look. “Might want to go ahead and sit back down. Looks like I’m going to need a minute here.”
“Stand aside,” he said, straightening. “I will open it.”
“No way. You’re injured. I’m not. I can do it.”
Fitting her fingers into the crack she’d made between the doorway and the door she pulled again.
“Hope—”
“Damn it, R’har, I’m doing this!” she panted, changing her grip. “Just give me a sec here.”
Gritting her teeth, working inch by inch, she coaxed the door open.
“Holy cow,” she gasped, massaging her sore hands as she peered into the hallway. “How many doors between here and the medical bay again?”
“Three.”
“Oh, yippee.” Her shoulder felt like fire and pain was running down her right arm.
Suck it up, MacGowan.
The lights in the corridor were out and the light from the cockpit was scant indeed. Hope wrinkled her nose at the charred smell. “Well, something sure got burnt up.”
“Systems all over the ship burned out when we jumped into the atmosphere. A number of components likely scorched during the overload.”
R’har was so pale she thought he might take a header if he let go of the chair.
“Just let me get the doors between here and the medical bay open,” she urged. “I’ll make sure the way is clear—or clear it if I have to. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
“You are my lifemate,” he growled. “I will not let you go into danger alone.”
Now was not the time to discuss that whole g’hir lifemate thing. Not with him bleeding and the state the ship was in.
And the Zerar up there.
He probably hadn’t forgotten about them any more than she had.
“Any chance there’s a flashlight we can take along?”
“There should be a lumina in the compartment next to the door.”
This one at least opened without a struggle but it took Hope a moment to figure out how to work the light. Also made for a g’hir’s hands, the thing was oversized for hers and awkward to manage.
“Okay,” she said, taking up her position at his side and putting her arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”
They made it down the first corridor without incident. She left R’har leaning heavily against the wall while she worked
on getting the next door open. Her fingers were going to be bruised and her hands were already aching.
The sunlight from the cockpit didn’t reach this far and this hall was very dark indeed.
“You okay?” she asked worriedly. Standing and walking when he should have been resting had R’har looking far worse. “Do you want to wait here? We’re not far now. One more here then the door into the medical bay.” She swung the light in that direction. “I’ll be right there. You’ll be able to see me.”
“But not reach you if you had need of me.” His jaw hardened. “I am your protector. It shames me that you must struggle to clear the way when I should be doing it for you. That I cannot carry you so that you must walk through debris in bare feet. But I will be at your side and I will protect you to my last breath.”
“There’s nothing on this ship you need to protect me from,” she pointed out. “I’ve got a flashlight—lumina—whatever. I won’t be far away and you look like you just lost a bar fight.”
R’har bared his fangs. “I have never lost a bar fight.” He raised an eyebrow at her short, surprised laugh. “You do not believe me, little one?”
“Oh, I believe you’d win any fight you decided to show up for,” she said, taking up position beside him to help him along. If he was going to be this stubborn then the next best option was getting him to the medical bay as soon as she could. “I’m actually torn between wondering who’d be stupid enough to pick one with you and trying to imagine you hanging around in a bar in the first place. You didn’t strike me as the type.”
“What ‘type’ do I strike you as?”
He was trying not to lean on her, that was obvious, but he couldn’t manage without her help.
He was a whole lot more hurt than he was letting on.
“I dunno. The wrestle-an-alien-beast-down-with-your-bare-hands type, I guess.”
“I have done that too,” he agreed. “But I have fought other males in the taverns as well. There are many warriors with nothing better to do now than drink and pick fights.”
“Nothing better to do?” Hope’s brow creased. These people had space travel, access to dozens of other alien cultures, incredible technology at their disposal. “What do you mean?”
“G’hir males need . . . purpose. Before the plague we had mates to capture, to protect, offspring to safeguard. It was where our energy, our strength, was channeled. This was our sacred calling from the Goddess, the noblest of tasks, the essence of a g’hir warrior’s identity. But the Scourge tore that from us too when it killed our females. Many warriors drift now, caught between the space before this life and after with no reason to exist. Many lack direction and struggle for a purpose to their lives. Some have surrendered to drink and foolish scuffles, to the blackness of despair.”
“But not you.”
“How could I?” Even in this faint light his eyes shone as they met hers. “The Goddess herself gave me hope.”
At the warmth in his rumble, the light in his glowing eyes, she ducked her head. “I have to get the door open.”
He was silent as she worked. Hope got the panel off, hit the controls, but this time the manual release, still provided with scant power, turned without struggle and this door slid open easily.
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed as the lights in the medical bay came up. A quick glance around showed this room had fared pretty well, considering their less than stellar landing. Clearly whatever backup systems were supplying power still worked. She prayed that meant the equipment would be functional as well.
“Come on,” she urged as R’har leaned heavily against her. “Just a couple more steps.”
He fell onto the exam table, closing his eyes as soon as his head touched the cushioned surface.
“Stay awake, R’har,” she pleaded with an anxious glance at the unfamiliar equipment. “You have to talk me through this, remember?”
His eyes opened briefly to meet hers, his gaze a little unfocused. “Commence medical scan.”
She was about to remind him that she had no idea how to do that when the exam table rose then snapped into place with a hiss. A horizontal beam of blue-white light, originating from the ceiling above the table, ran the length of him from the top of his head, down over his chest and to the tips of his boots.
Around the room displays came to life to show readings from his scan. Beneath the readings were scrolling words in the g’hir language.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, her glance darting from screen to screen. “You know all this would be really helpful if I could read Hironian.”
“Commence audible medical assessment,” he murmured.
“Second degree concussion, sub-cranial ridge hematoma . . .” The voice that read out his condition was in the growls and snarls of a g’hir but it was a warm tone, undeniably female, and in Hope’s opinion way too chipper sounding for the grim news it was relaying. “Right collarbone, broken at point seven degrees and nineteen degrees. Right shoulder, detached rotator cuff. Right rib cage, fracture of the fifth and seventh ribs. Upper abdominal region, severe trauma to the sorian. Laceration of the liver, internal bleeding . . .”
The medcomp continued its appraisal of his condition. It generated a rotating three-dimensional hologram of a male g’hir form over the exam table, the various areas of injury lighting up in red as they were read off. Just seeing it made Hope swallow hard.
“God,” she breathed. “How did you even manage to stand up?”
It took her a moment to realize that while the medical computer was droning on, R’har hadn’t answered her.
“R’har?” An alarm buzzed angrily at her when she crossed into the scanner light. Afraid her movement had interfered with the exam she took a quick step back. “R’har?”
He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, the hand that had been holding his bandage on slack beside him.
The medical computer trailed off in its assessment, leaving Hope alone with the rotating figure above R’har’s unconscious form detailing injuries that she had no idea how to treat.
Thirteen
“R’har?”
She took a tentative step toward him but the medical scanner remained dark and didn’t buzz in protest at her approach. Hope laid her hand on his chest. His heart beat under her palm but without the same strength, the same vigor it had before.
He was frighteningly pale now, his vivid eyes closed.
“Please wake up. Please. You have to tell me what to do here, how to help you.”
He didn’t respond or appear to have even heard her.
I took too long getting him here! I should have moved faster! I should have—
“Stop it,” Hope hissed at herself. “You need to think! Just think about what you need to do and do it.”
The three-dimensional figure outlining R’har’s many injuries still rotated above the table.
“What do I do?” Hope looked up at the now deactivated medical scanner. “I don’t know how to treat him! You have to tell me! Please!”
The equipment stayed silent and dark.
“Goddamn it, tell me what to do! How do I treat him?” She threw an impatient gesture at the rotating representation of R’har. “Why show me this if you won’t tell me what to do? He needs help right now!”
Hope’s gaze fell on R’har again, the rippled brow and strong jaw, the full mouth he’d pressed so eagerly to hers.
You’re a lot of things, R’har. An alien. A warrior. A pilot. You even think you’re my lifemate, whatever that is.
Her head came up. “But you never claimed to be a doctor . . .”
Which meant that this equipment was intended for someone with a minimum amount of medical training.
Hope looked back up at the scanner. “Uh, please treat him?”
The equipment didn’t respond and her eyes were drawn to R’har again.
“No, that’s not what you did,” she murmured. “You didn’t ask it. You told it.” Hope raised her voice. “Begin medical treatment!�
�
Nothing.
“Damn it,” she snarled. But all he did was tell it to start—
“No!” she cried suddenly. “Not—I mean, Commence medical treatment!”
Hope jumped back with a gasp as the scanner above sprang to life, its light already moving over R’har’s body. A force field shimmered into place around the table, forcing Hope to retreat further as arms emerged from the table like the legs of a huge metallic spider to hover over him. The medical arms, pinchers, and instruments worked on R’har with cold mechanical efficiency, quickly removing his clothing, even deftly cutting away his boots and discarding the used bandage.
A soft hiss sounded when one of the arms pressed a cylinder to his neck.
New symbols appeared over the rotating figure and Hope gritted her teeth.
As soon as he wakes up he’s going to start teaching me to read this stuff!
“Commence, uh . . .” Damn it, what did he say? “Commence audible medical assessment!”
“Blood pressure stabilizing,” the computer responded in its soothing female g’hir growls. “Blood oxygen levels rising. Beginning vascular repair to sub-cranial ridge trauma . . .”
Hope shifted her feet as the medical equipment worked on him, both relieved to tears that he was finally being treated and wishing she could do more—or at least some of it—herself. The computer voice went on, calmly outlining the different treatments as the arms performed them, giving updates to R’har’s vital signs as well.
One by one the red areas highlighted on the rotating hologram went to blue and abruptly the arms retracted back into the table.
The computer’s voice came on as the forcefield winked out. “Additional care recommended: Rest. Fluids and light meals to include the following nutrients—” A list she couldn’t read appeared and the letters glowed for a moment. “Treatment complete.”
The scanner above went dark. The machine had even been thoughtful enough to provide him with a sheet that covered him to the ribs.
She came to the table’s edge and leaned down over him, her face close to his.
“R’har?” she said softly, her fingers stroking his forehead, her fingers tracing the ripples of his forehead. “Can you hear me?”
Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2 Page 10