by Mina Carter
“He took some of my eggs for a test,” she said quietly. “He must have fertilized them and implanted them without telling me.” It was the only explanation that made sense. Her heart broke as she met the emperor’s gaze.
“The baby is Laarn’s.”
THE SHUTTLE RIDE to the Keran’vuis, Xaandril’s flagship, was less than ten minutes but seemed like hours as Laarn hovered by the stretcher holding the still form of the general. The big warrior was pale, his wounds standing out stark red against his skin. He wasn’t that much older than Laarn, but with his scars and the terrible wounds across his body… he seemed eons older.
“Coming into dock now, my lord,” one of the pilots leaned out from the cockpit to inform him.
Laarn nodded, feeling the shuttle slow and the slight bump as the docking clamps engaged. The stasis unit was holding Xaandril’s condition steady, but he couldn’t remain in it forever. Despite the fact it held death at bay, just, the longer he remained in it, the harder it would be for Laarn to bring him back.
The airlock cycled with heavy whirrs and clunks. Then the door behind him slid open. Laarn was ready, pushing the stretcher out first, scattering the warriors waiting on the other side.
“Move!” he barked in a hard voice, looking through the morass of warriors until he found scars under open jackets and teal sashes. “Is the surgical bay prepared?”
“Yes, my lord… and a support team on standby with a backup healer.” A healer shoved his way through the group until he reached Laarn’s side, taking over pushing the stretcher as they strode through the corridors.
“We won’t need them. This is beyond everything they have,” he said, rolling his shoulders as they walked. He needed to be loose and limber for the operation ahead.
Warriors in red sashes trailed behind them, obviously waiting for permission to speak. Their expressions said they plainly didn’t like the idea of a healer being in charge but none of them had stepped up to challenge him. He didn’t expect them to. Unlike what he’d heard of human medics, who swore to do no harm, healers among the Lathar were something different entirely. They were warriors always and fought if they needed to. Some of the most dangerous warriors in Lathar history had also been healers, his own grandfather among them.
“Orders, my lord?” one of them ventured just before they turned into medbay. Laarn cut him a glance, noting it was one of the general’s commanders. Xaandril didn’t have a second in command as such, but a team of them. Laarn could see the reasoning. Rather than one person who could directly challenge him for his rank and position, there was a group who had to fight among themselves before they could challenge him. The infighting kept the balance until one emerged strong enough to be named second officer properly.
“Yaraan, right?” Laarn asked, pulling the male’s name from his memories of coming aboard nearly a week ago. “Split the war group and create a cordon between this part of space and all routes to Lathar Prime,” he ordered. “Keep the patrols tight and capture any of the enemy if you can for interrogation. I want to know what these bastards thought they’d achieve by all this. These colony-worlds hold little value, so it doesn’t make sense. Establish contact with the local Krynassis queen. See if you can broker a short-term treaty to deal with this threat, but give no assets away. Understood?”
Through it all, Yaraan stood, his face determined as he nodded. The fact that Laarn spoke directly to him, rather than the other command officers around him meant this was his responsibility.
“Yes, my lord. Loud and clear.” He grinned suddenly. “I won’t let you down.”
“You’d better not.” Laarn transferred his attention to the group around Yaraan. “Who commands the general’s flagship?”
“That would be me.” An older male stepped forward, his manner and bearing screaming experience. “Draxx. Commander of the Keran’vuis.”
Laarn nodded to him, conferring the correct respect to the older warrior. To command a flagship was an honor, even more so when it was a general’s ship. The only honor higher was commanding the emperor’s ship, the Misaan’vuis, itself. “Bring us about and set a course for Lathar Prime. The general is in critical condition and I may need the facilities in the healer’s hall at the palace to…” he didn’t finish his sentence. They all knew the general was in bad shape.
“Aye, sir,” the commander nodded and then growled at the warriors clustered around. “Ye heard the lord. Hop to it!”
The warriors scattered, boots thudding on the deck-plating as the corridor cleared. Draxx turned to Laarn, his expression direct. “Save my brother, healer, and I will forever be in your debt.”
Laarn blinked in surprise as the big commander turned and walked away. He and Xaandril were brothers? Now he looked at it, he could kind of see the resemblance—in their builds and the way they walked—and it explained why an obviously capable warrior was content to serve under another.
Turning, he walked into the medical bay, putting everything else from his mind as he entered the cleansing unit to prepare for surgery.
10
X aandril was a mess.
Laarn whistled to himself, looking down at the still form of his patient on the table in front of him. There was a big knife wound across his throat, his left arm was at the wrong angle and the shoulder looked mangled, the ends of his collarbone were visible in what looked like raw meat… his gaze moved down as his assistants moved around him, prepping the surgical unit… two gut wounds and one across the thigh.
“My lord?”
At the prompt, Laarn held his arms out to the side, letting his assistants slide the gauntlets over his hands and tighten the straps over his wrists. They were like a normal pair of gloves to the wrist, but beyond neural cables sprouted like spines, falling to the floor to snake around the operating table with its protective bubble enclosing the patient.
The patient. That’s who Xaandril had become now. Laarn was an experienced healer. He knew he couldn’t let emotion or friendship enter into him as he prepared to be uplinked.
“Neural interface ready, surgical unit online,” his assistant murmured by his side, a shadowy form in the darkness around the brightly lit bed. “Ready when you are, my lord.”
Laarn took a deep breath, the scent of disinfectant and under it, blood, hitting his sensitive nose and nodded. “Link me.”
The healer reached out and initiated the link, the wires connecting him to the unit flaring to life. He had a moment to gather himself as he felt the first flutter of sensation along the link. His consciousness expanded, flowing from his body to fill the operating unit. It was a similar interface as the one used for the combat and other avatar-bots, allowing him to control the machine through the link, but there were differences.
First, it wasn’t a bot. It was far more complicated and sophisticated, requiring much more of his mental processing power and concentration, and secondly, unlike a bot, the link went both ways. He and the patient were connected, so whatever he felt, the patient felt… and whatever his patient felt, so did he. Everything…from the way his leathers itched a little where some blood had dried and stiffened them, right through to the pain his patients were in as he operated.
And that was what it meant to be a healer. He not only had to operate and heal them, put broken bodies back together again, but through the neural links, he shouldered their pain during the procedure as well, felt the operation from both sides. And that feeling, as well as the highest pain tolerance ever recorded in the healer’s trials, was what made Laarn so good at what he did.
“Bringing the patient online.”
Another nod.
He closed his eyes as the link expanded, bracing himself. Between one second and the next, pain exploded through him. The grunt that echoed in his chest was all the sound he’d allow himself to make, even though his entire body screamed with agony. Leaning back against the support in the small of his back, he took a deep breath and focused.
“Patient vitals leveling…” His senior assist
ant kept up a quiet running commentary in the background. Laarn may have nodded in reply, but he wasn’t aware of it. Instead, he went within his own mind, following the link down into Xaandril’s body. Using the link and the remote surgical arms of the bed, he focused on the most grievous wounds.
Nano-scalpels and regenerators moved faster than the eye could see as he repaired and rebuilt muscle and blood vessels within Xaandril’s throat. Meticulously, he built layer upon layer and at the same time kept Xaan’s circulatory system moving, making sure not to flood the area with blood until he’d successfully rebuilt the capillary system. With a sigh he gave the area a once over, noting the massive reduction in pain, and moved on.
The thigh wound was just as bad, if not worse. The healing sprays he’d used on the battlefield had sealed the wounds, Xaan’s own physiology helping by slowing the blood flow to the area. That adaptation, one of the first the healers had made many years ago to the Latharian genetic code, had saved his life.
Sweat pouring from him, Laarn lost track of time as he worked through Xaan’s wounds in sequence, starting with the thigh wound and ensuring that all the muscle fibers worked correctly and wouldn’t adhere to each other before he moved on. It was no good saving a warrior’s life if he couldn’t fight. It would be more merciful to let him die, a call that Laarn had had to make in the past. But not now. Not today. Even if he took himself to the edge of exhaustion, he would ensure Xaandril would live to fight another day.
Hours later, he’d done just that as he sealed up the last of the minor wounds and left the bruising to heal on its own. As good as the technology was, he’d long ago learned to leave some things to heal in their own time. Otherwise things could go wrong. Almost like, once wounded, the body needed something to heal and if it couldn’t find it, got confused and the immune system went into overdrive.
Satisfied he’d healed everything that was critical, he swept his focus over his patient once more and then disconnected with a sigh.
“Laarn to Draxx.” He lifted his voice to trigger the comms system. “How far are we from Lathar Prime?”
As he waited for the commander’s answer, he slumped against the support. Letting the assistants unbuckle him from the interface gauntlets, he flexed his fists as he drew his arms up to his chest. He was so hungry he could… what did Jess say? Ah, yes. He was so hungry, he could eat a horse. Halfway through the movement, he paused, his gaze riveted on his wrists.
There, wrapped around both like vines were dark marks.
Marks he’d only seen twice before in recent years. On his brother Tarrick, and his friend Karryl. Both warriors bonded to human females.
Bond marks.
The comm crackled as Draxx answered. “Still a couple of hours out, my lord. How is the general?”
“He’ll live,” Laarn answered shortly, his eyes wide as he studied his wrists. “But I suggest you take us to top speed and get us to the capital planet yesterday. We have a new problem.”
HER WORLD HAD CHANGED FOREVER.
The next day Jess lay curled up in a bed in one of the private rooms off the main healer’s hall. As soon as her pregnancy and the identity of the father had been confirmed, Tovan, the healer in charge of the hall in Laarn’s absence, had refused to allow her to be moved due to her sickness. He and Daaynal had almost had a standup fight in the middle of the medbay over it, the smaller healer standing his ground and going toe to toe with the lethal emperor with determination written all over his face.
He wouldn’t have won, not against Daaynal, and they all knew it but it was obvious he didn’t care. Jess was his patient and what he said went. In the end though, Jess herself had stopped the fight by throwing up on the floor. Tovan had just looked at Daaynal pointedly and within an hour she’d been moved to a private room with a guard detail at the door.
She’d heard them talking when they thought she was asleep. She was the first woman to have become pregnant by a Lathar warrior in years, albeit it by unusual methods, and they weren’t taking any chances. The guard detail on her door was just the start. There were more guards at all entrances to the healer’s hall and Daaynal had increased the numbers in the palace.
But for the moment, she was alone, and for that she was grateful. It had taken most of the night for Tovan to stabilize her sickness, the tall, lean healer not leaving her side until he was sure she’d managed to keep some food and water down. Only then had he left her to rest and sought his own bed. She couldn’t sleep though. Under the covers, her hand slid across her stomach.
Pregnant.
Even now, she couldn’t believe it. The words—someone telling her she was pregnant, even seeing the results on screen, were one thing—but believing it, actually knowing deep in her heart, was another.
A baby.
Wonder filled her as her hand felt heavy against her stomach. Did it feel any different…rounder or harder perhaps? She’d never been pregnant before so she had no idea what to expect. She certainly hadn’t been prepared for the wave of love and protectiveness that filled her at the thought of the tiny life nestled deep inside her womb. A baby. Her baby.
Laarn’s baby.
She frowned, her heart clenching. She’d thought things were going well between them, and they had been. His kisses, his promises to make her his as soon as he got back… why would he do this? Impregnate her in secret, artificially… when they could have just done it the normal way? Hell, why hadn’t he even told her? She rubbed at her forehead with shaking fingers. If he’d told her that he wanted a baby and the only way they could do it was through technology, she’d have understood. Been happy about it even. She’d always wanted a baby, provided she was with the child’s father. So if he’d claimed her, or even promised to, before he put a baby in her belly, she’d have been happy.
Now? She was pregnant without nookie, and the father was nowhere to be seen. Apparently even Daaynal couldn’t get hold of him. He was too busy with casualties on the front line. Jess dropped back on the pillows with a sigh and closed her eyes in exhaustion. Surely, he could spare a couple of minutes to answer an urgent message from his uncle, or even a minute to contact her to see how she was and let her know everything was going to be okay.
Perhaps he was lingering on the front line because he didn’t want her…
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek before she could stop it. As soon as she felt the wetness, she dashed it away in anger. What the fuck was she, a woman or a freaking mouse? She was pregnant, so fucking what? Her mom had been a single mom, bringing up twin daughters and a son. She had this, no father required. Especially not a handsome as hell, scarred up, healer who kissed like a sex god.
“Oh, my love… it breaks my heart to see you like this.”
The male voice made her snap her eyes open to see Saal in the doorway, concern written on his face. Jess struggled to a sitting position, panic threading through her veins.
“Saal? What are you doing in here? The guards…”
“Hey, hey… you’re perfectly safe, I assure you,” he said, holding his hands out to the side as he approached. When she edged away, ready to swing her legs over the opposite side of the bed, he stopped dead.
“I would never hurt you, Jessica.” His voice was low, his expression sincere. “As soon as I saw you, I wanted you. Even though you’re carrying another male’s child, I still want you.”
“You have to leave. Please, Saal, you shouldn’t be here. The emperor…” Now Daaynal knew she carried Laarn’s child, he’d kill Saal for coming near her. And since all the guy had done was look after her, she couldn’t allow that.
“Go, now, please?” she begged. Her voice was too weak, too thready as the adrenaline surging through her veins sapped her strength. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt because of me.”
His expression tightened for a moment, but then he nodded. “For you, my lady, anything. Just know I am never far away and if you need me, you only need mention it to your guard. Tinaas is a friend
of mine. He will make sure a message gets to me…”
A sound in the corridor outside the room made him frown. Something about the way he turned and the set of his body sent alarm bells through her.
“What? What’s wrong?”
The sound of laser fire outside the room answered her question and she sat bolt upright in bed. It wasn’t right outside, but it sounded close. “Shit, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Saal answered. He was across the room and by her side in a heartbeat. “Can you walk?”
She nodded, taking his hand. “I’ll damn well walk out of here.”
“Good.”
He supported her as she slid off the bed, arm ready to wrap around her waist in case she stumbled. She didn’t, finding the strength from somewhere to lock her knees against the trembling. The fact that she only wore a sleep robe that bared most of her legs didn’t bother her. Getting out of here before whoever was shooting got here very much did.
“Ready?” he asked when they reached the doorway, a heavy pulse pistol in his free hand and a frown on his face as he looked down at her.
She took a deep breath, the movement making her feel queasy again but she fought it down to nod at him. “Yeah. What are you waiting for, a frigging invite?”
His lips quirked and he moved forward like he might kiss her. But she stopped him with an upraised hand. “Just try it, sweetheart, and mortal danger or not, my knee will be making friends with your crown jewels. Understand me?”
He did laugh at that. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous and pregnant by someone else. Remember that and I won’t have to separate you from your cock and balls. Now, I don’t suppose you have a spare one of those, do you?”
He shook his head, moving closer to the door. One hand flat on the panel, he listened and then froze. “Draanth… they’re right outside. Back… go back.”
Before she knew what was happening, he hustled her backward, yanking open one of the doors on a cabinet.