The king looked over his shoulder and Tristin charged, trying to keep him from hurting Kirelle. But the king was faster than he thought, and he brought up his sword just as Tristin got to him. He arced his red-bladed sword downward, piercing Tristin’s exoarmor and going into his shoulder.
Tristin screamed, momentarily paralyzed by the pain, then began to sink.
Then someone was pulling him backward, down and away from the sword.
“I will find out where you’re going.” The king’s slitted feline eyes were filled with brutal promise. “And then I’ll be coming for you!”
Tristin fell back and slid downward until he realized he was inside the smaller ship. “What the hell?”
The king’s roar sounded from outside the ship until it was cut off by the door sealing shut.
Tristin tried to remain standing but found himself unable to stop his slide toward the floor, the ground coming abruptly to meet him.
Casin and Corin were suddenly there, catching him and easing his way downward.
“Kirelle made some kind of bubble and pulled you through it onto the ship,” Casin said.
“Now tell me how to fly this thing,” Corin entreated, “we need to get out of here before that bastard figures out how to open the door.”
“I can do it.” Tristin was too weak to explain it to the others. He closed his eyes and used his chip to connect to the ship, bypassing the controls with the code X-Blade had given them.
He opened his eyes for a moment. “Everyone hang on. Lifting off.”
He directed the ship to leave the docking bay, surprised that it obeyed his commands so well. It was almost as if he was in the pilot’s seat. But his concentration was slipping. He set course for Aurora, directing the autopilot to take over.
Sudden heat in his shoulder made him suck in a breath, and he opened his eyes to see that Kirelle was there, her hand above the wound. “What happened to your collar?”
“The necklace X-Blade gave me—it had a device and a pendant. Once I was aboard the ship, I remembered X-Blade said it was for me. I pulled it out, and it was the key to take off the collar.”
He tried to move but the blinding pain in his shoulder stopped him. “You saved my life with those fireballs.”
“Of course, thank the female,” Casin remarked snidely.
“Because we did nothing,” Corin added.
“Thank you,” Tristin said dryly.
Casin shot him a rude gesture from behind Kirelle.
“And I haven’t saved your life yet,” she said. “This needs immediate attention. We need to get you and Jaffa to the medbay.”
“Shouldn’t we be manning the weapons? Do you think he’s just going to let us go?” Casin asked.
“He said he’ll find out where we’re going,” Tristin answered. “It’s possible there’s a tracking device on this ship.”
“Or perhaps there’s one in us.” Corin frowned.
“Either way, the only battle we have on our hands now is the one to keep you from bleeding out. Med bay,” Kirelle ordered, looking pointedly at the two blond cyborgs.
Casin and Corin hoisted him up, and suddenly he began to cough.
“Traako, I was afraid of this,” Kirelle said. “The king was smart about where he stabbed you. He collapsed your lung.”
“What does that mean?” Casin asked.
“What the hell does it sound like?” Corin shot back.
“It means we need to get him to the medbay immediately,” she retorted. “Lift him up. Lucas, put this device in the back of X025’s neck. You three stay with him while he wakes. Casin, Corin, Jaffa with me.”
Tristin was having trouble catching his breath, so his cousins propped him up on either side as he pointed to direct them to the medbay of the ship.
“Where is the ship going?” Corin asked.
“Aurora,” he wheezed.
“Do you think they’ll follow us?” Casin asked.
“Maybe.” The word was followed by a series of coughs he couldn’t stop.
“Stop asking him questions,” Kirelle ordered.
Tristin’s breath was coming in short pants, pain knifing through his shoulder and chest from the exertion of walking to the medbay. It was a lot farther than he had anticipated in the small cruiser, and he couldn’t catch his breath.
Corin eyed him worriedly. “He’s not going to die, is he?”
“Of course not,” Casin said blithely. “Because if he does, he won’t be around to defend himself when we tell everyone he screamed like a girl when the Ardak king stabbed him.”
Corin snickered on his other side, almost letting him fall.
“Quit while you’re ahead,” Tristin replied, wheezing. “Pretty sure. . .there’s still a brig in this thing.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kirelle
Kirelle was more worried about Tristin than she let on. A collapsed lung was no joke, even for a cyborg. She hoped the Ardaks had supplies in the medbay she could use. By the time they arrived, Tristin was turning blue. She ushered them into the first partitioned bay, ushering Jaffa into the second and hurriedly looking for supplies.
Everything was exactly where it would have been in her lab on the king’s ship, and she returned with a needle.
The twins had been helping him out of his exoarmor, and both turned a pale shade of green when they saw the enormous needle.
“What is that for?”
“I need to puncture his chest and reduce the pressure so his lung can expand.”
“Do you need us for that?” Casin asked, edging toward the door the minute Tristin was in the med bunk.
“Coward,” Tristin wheezed.
Corin gritted his teeth resolutely. “How can I help?”
“Hold him down,” she ordered. Before either of them could say another word she plunged the needle into Tristin’s chest.
Casin vomited on the floor. . .and Tristin took his first deep breath despite the pain. Oxygen flooded his lungs, making him feel light-headed for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said, his hand covering hers. Then he pulled it away quickly, frowning at Casin, who stood there, his hand on his stomach, looking faint. “Casin,” he said roughly, “clean that up. Now.”
“I’ll help him,” Corin offered, looking slightly green himself.
Kirelle went around to the head of the bunk, attaching a bag of saline solution to the IV hook, then inserting a needle in his arm and starting the bag. “I’ll be right back,” she told Tristin. She left the partitioned cubicle for a minute to get anesthesia, and found it exactly where it should be.
She went back to him, inserting the anesthesia into a needle.
“How long will I be out?” he asked.
“Not long,” she answered. “I just need to fix up your shoulder and don’t want you to feel pain.”
He raised his brows. “I have a pain dampener.”
“How far is Aurora?” she asked.
He was quiet for several minutes, and she realized he was connecting to the ship. “We should be entering the wormhole shortly, then it will be three hours after that.”
“And how much power do you have left?”
“About 20 percent.”
Casin and Corin had returned so she faced them. “How much power do you two have left?”
“About the same,” Corin stated.
“I have a bit less,” Casin admitted.
She began to worry. “Traako. I told you not to use your lasers.”
“We didn’t really have a choice. Better alive with low power than dead with full power,” Tristin said mildly.
“Yes, but you’re going to run out of battery right when we arrive. I only have two rechargers. None of you had better use anything that takes extra power until we land.” She added the anesthesia to the IV in the tube below the bag.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tristin said groggily, then his eyes closed and his head rolled back.
“Do you still need us?” Corin asked, eyeing the knife in
her hand faintly.
“No, I’m just going to patch up his shoulder,” she said. “I’ll come up to the control room when he’s done so you can see him.”
They nodded and left, obviously relieved.
Kirelle laid out the things from her bag, grateful that she’d already been prepared from patching him up earlier. She used the ultrasonic device to patch the artery. Tristin was lucky the king had only nicked it because he’d been going for the lung.
The fragments of bone were a lot more problematic, but she got the slivers she could find and hoped his body would take care of the rest.
She used the webbing to reseal several shoulder attachments, then turned back to the table, trying to decide whether to give him the last bag of superoxygenated blood in her pack. She could use it now to rebuild Tristin’s strength, or save it for a potentially more dangerous situation—like one where one of them stopped breathing when their battery ran out.
In the end, she decided to give him half and stored the rest in the laboratory refrigerator. The blood was extremely hard to come by, and if she had time on this mission, she might begin a replication process.
Once she had added the skin patch, she went to see Jaffa about his arm. Looking in, she saw that he was fast asleep. His fatigue was probably a side effect of the injury and his brain reintegrating his returned memories.
An examination told her that the Ardak blade had cut through his biceps just below the shoulder. Not life-threatening, but still extremely important to repair so he would have use of his arm. She used a spray-on pain-dampening agent, and he didn’t wake even when she inserted the IV.
She used the web to repair the muscle, then the skin patch. At this rate, she would run out of skin patches and webbing after the next altercation.
These weren’t exactly the repairs she’d imagined making on the cyborgs, she thought wryly. Their greatest concerns in the labs had been with the chip and the programming, and the integration of the tech parts with their bodies.
When she finished with Jaffa, she covered him with a clean med blanket and began to clean up, putting the instruments back exactly as she’d found them. She was pleasantly surprised by the medbay in the small ship. There was a long metal operating table in the center for emergency operations and research, and a total of three small partitioned sections along the wall for individual injuries. Everything was stocked and ready. Although she hated the Ardaks for many reasons, she had to admit that she was grateful for their attention to detail.
She heard a groan, and realized Tristin was awake. She hurried around the partition to his bed. Normal Ardak anesthetic didn’t work so well on cyborgs, but she didn’t have any of the special sleeping agent they used in the labs on the king’s ship.
“Helloooooo,” Tristin slurred when he saw her. The word might be slurred, but his eyes said he was rapidly waking.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, touching his forehead. There was no fever, hopefully no infection would set in.
“Hurts.” He moved his shoulder and winced.
“Well, don’t move it then,” she chuckled, moving to a drawer at the head of the bed. Perhaps she could use more painkiller and he would naturally fall asleep.
She injected the painkiller into the IV bag. “This should take care of that.”
He grabbed her hand. “Thank you.”
She looked away. “You don’t have to thank me. I don’t want you to be in pain.”
He grimaced, pulling her close. “I don’t mean for the pain meds.” His voice was low and alarmingly seductive. His eyes glowed purple, and the force of his gaze pulled her toward him. Her body swayed and she reached out to brace herself on the bed.
What was it about him? What caused his magnetism? It was as indescribable as the purple swirling in the depths of his glowing eyes.
She reached down and traced a hand along the side of his face, feeling the harshness of the chiseled jawbone, the stubble on his chin.
He tugged her closer, and almost without warning, his lips met hers.
A shock zinged through her, one she’d never felt before. She swayed closer as he kissed her again, his lips parting hers and his tongue finding its way inside, seeking.
He pulled her closer and she put out a hand to brace herself. It landed on his abdomen. The marks on his stomach burned beneath her fingers.
He must have felt it because he broke away, letting her go. “I can’t.” His voice was rough, angry.
Her face flushed and she turned away to hide her embarrassment. “I’m going to go check on the others.”
“What planet are you from?” he asked, his voice harsh.
“Flym,” she responded over her shoulder. “Do you know it?”
“No. But the universe is a big place. How old are you?”
“Eighty-seven,” she replied.
“Eighty-seven?” His brows rose and his mouth turned down.
She had no idea why that was a problem. “Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
“Eighty-seven,” he muttered. “There’s not a five, or a three, or even a one in front of that number, is there?” his voice was resigned.
“No. Should there be?” She regretted that she’d never had a chance to research the Tuorins. “How old are you?”
He ignored her. “I thought you were an elf.”
“Hence the pointed ears.”
“But elves are long-lived.”
“Perhaps I will be.” She frowned. “Although the Ardaks are making that tougher. How old are you?” she asked again.
He was silent for a moment. “Five hundred and twenty-three.”
Her air left her in a rush. There was more than a four-century difference between them. “I had no idea you were that old.” She paused. “Are you saying I’m too young?”
“Yes.” He brushed his long hair out of the way and bent down to put on his boots. “No. I don’t know. It’s all wrong. Too young. From the wrong planet. The wrong species.”
“I think you mean race,” she countered.
“No, you can do magic. Your genetic differences make you a different species.”
“Now you’re splitting hairs.” Heat was rising to her face. “We could still mate.”
“Yes, and sometimes our children will have magic, and sometimes they won’t.”
“Would it make you love them any less either way? This argument is ridiculous.”
He sat up in the bed, and even seated he was taller than her. “No. But you’re right. It is ridiculous. I have a duty to my people to marry for the good of my planet. I cannot obey the genetic marks, even if they pull me toward you.”
“Genetic marks?”
“Yes. The marks on my stomach,” he admitted grudgingly, as she headed for the door. “Where are you going?”
“Aurora,” she answered impatiently.
“I meant right now.”
“To the control room to check on the others,” she said. “I’m obviously finished here.” She paused. “You know what? I thought your pride in your people and your family was endearing. But now I realize it was arrogance.”
He opened his mouth but she left the room, a feeling of satisfaction filling her as the closing of the door cut off his reply.
She headed down the corridor toward the control room, where to her surprise, Corin was sprinting toward her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, taking in his panicked expression.
“Casin was trying to connect to the computer and he just passed out.”
“Where is he?”
“The control room. We didn’t know whether to disconnect him.”
“You mean he’s hardwired to the system?” She began to run.
He matched her pace. “Yes. Is that bad?”
“You have a chip connected to your brain. You don’t just start connecting it to every available port that exists. I have no idea what that could do to him.”
He gaped at her. “No one told us that.”
She groaned in exasperation. “
Traako! No one should have to tell you that.”
She sprinted past Corin toward the control room, praying she could bring Casin back.
Chapter Fifteen
Tristin
“A
pproaching Aurora.”
The voice in his head woke him from a distance, but his body was sluggish, taking minutes to come back to full awareness. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep—he’d thought he was too angry for that.
“Approaching Aurora,” the voice repeated, and Tristin sat up.
He was in the med bay, alone.
She’d called him arrogant. What little she knew! He was the king of Tuorin Andala, obligated to marry to improve the alliances between their system and others.
There was no way an enslaved elven healer from a system he’d never heard of could be his genetic match.
He’d almost chased her when she’d fled. He knew she was confused, but had no wish to enlighten her further until he’d figured out his own feelings. So he’d let her go simply to get away from her. The argument had brought a flush to her cheeks, her lips were still plump from kissing him. Much too tempting.
He needed to get her out of his head—and away from his body.
Before he did something he would regret.
Something flashed in his visual cortex—low battery, 10 percent remaining.
“Anything else?” he muttered, rising from the bunk. Memories streamed back to him in waves, becoming a cyborg, fighting the king, his injury. Kirelle’s soothing voice, her hands brushing over his skin. Fixing him. He felt his chest where she’d pierced him so he could breathe. It was slightly tender, but otherwise fine.
The next thing on his agenda was to fix his battery level, which meant he would have to face her. He rose, looking for his shirt, but it was torn and spattered with blood so he decided to forego it in the interest of cleanliness. At least his pants and boots were still intact.
He headed for the control room, heedless of the cold air on his skin. Getting to Aurora and finding Mordjan was now a life-or-death matter for him, and it might be for the other cyborgs as well.
And his mind told him the ship was too quiet for his younger cousins to be fully functioning.
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