The Colonel's Man (3 page)

Damn, she wasn’t even human but she certainly looked like one. Without knowing what species she was, treating her could get complicated. Medics swarmed around them. One ripped open a dressing package while the other was checked her vitals with his handheld scanner.

“Keep pressure on it, Gunny,” said the medic to him as he held Jason’s hand atop the dressing and pressed hard over the wound.

She winced again, a small cry that lanced his heart on her lips. Gritting his teeth he soothed her as he stroked the side of her face with his other hand.

“It’s okay babe, you’re gonna be just fine.” He said to her in hushed tones before he snapped at the medic. “Tell the pilot to haul ass and inform the
Mandrakion’s
medbay that she’s taken a hit.”

“Aye Gunny.” The medic who gave him the dressing scrambled off to get to the cockpit as the other medic shook his head.

“Not good. Her pulse and BP is down and she has some internal bleeding with two bruised ribs. Dammit, why didn’t you tell us she’d been hit and taken a beating?”

“I didn’t know, okay? She was fine when we got her!” Jason snapped.

He replayed the entire operation in his head from the time they cut her down to them boarding the drop-shuttle and not once did he see any hint of her being in pain or injured. She must have gotten the hit when they were boarding but said nothing. Fuck, she was tough and stubborn as hell.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

Drew was awake, looking at the two of them with concern. Jason’s mouth settled in a grim line. “She was hit and didn’t tell us. We’re high-tailing it back to the ship as fast as we can.”

He slammed his fist into the nearest wall, “Stupid stubborn cow!” He turned his ire to the pilots in the cockpit. “Can’t this fucking tug go any faster?”

 “Gunny, you want her staying with us then keep your calm,” the medic snapped, working on the woman’s side.

Crap, crap, crap…why hadn’t he checked when she’d fallen asleep? Why had he just assumed? “What’s her name?” he asked as he hovered, needing to do something but not sure what.

“Sorry, Gunny we didn’t get information on that either. Just basic medical data. They redacted half of the file they gave me.”

Jason looked to Drew who had made it to a sitting position as he leaned against the drop-shuttle wall. His partner’s expression displayed curiosity at his own unusual behavior. He shook his head and looked down the length of the craft, into the cockpit. The massive hulk of the
Mandrakion
came into view and Jason felt a twinge of relief at seeing the reassuring sight of the heavy cruiser fill the screen. However, he wasn’t going to feel any better until they had safely landed and the woman had been placed in the care of medbay.

“Okay, the bleeding has slowed, but we need to get her into medbay ASAP.” The medic looked over his shoulder and yelled to the cockpit. “John…get us med clearance for a hot landing and have a team ready.”

Jason held on, his heart pounding as they roared toward the ship. A hot landing meant things were bad. Shit.

“What’s her condition? Is she going to be okay?” He could understand the man’s reluctance to share that information but he had to know. “Just tell me dammit. She’s our entire mission.”

The medic looked up, exasperation on his features. “Look mate, I don’t know. She’s out of it, injured and I have no freaking clue what species she is. The normal rules don’t apply. From the blood I’d say she’s at least part Tralaxian, so pray for that because they’re tough buggars to kill—”

“…and Fenarian.” The quiet voice somehow reached Jason’s ears even as the drop-shuttle roared toward the bay doors. He looked down to find her amazing eyes open, her gaze locked on him. Earlier he’d checked her for concussion and found nothing, now one glance told him she was in serious shit.

Fenarian. A race that had lost their homeworld from a freak hit by a rogue planet; the relative few that survived formed colonies within the Alliance and started to rebuild. He hadn’t met one in person but he knew all about them and their unique ability for rapid regeneration. Something to do with their cells…heck he didn’t understand it all. He was a covert operator not a biologist, but he knew enough to know that she had a better chance of surviving than they thought.

He wanted to yell at her. Call her twenty different kinds of idiot for being stubborn and not saying anything to him or the medics. However the words that came out sounded a lot calmer than he thought. “Hey, why didn’t you say anything? You thought being tough would win you points with me?”

Her lips quirked and she winced again, “‘S just a scratch. Medic’s just playing it up, that’s all.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guy rolling his hands and nodded. Keep her talking, he got it. He chuckled as he held her face. “If a round to the side and some cracked ribs is just a scratch for you, I kinda feel a bit of a pansy for whining about paper cuts.”

The drop-shuttle touched down with a roar of the maneuvering engines and metallic scrapes as the runners hit the deck. The loading door was hauled open, a medteam already on standby.

“Please…stay with me?” she begged, her hand tight around his and her eyes wide and dark. She was either terrified or about out of it.

“I won’t leave you,” he vowed as he helped put her into a backboard, mindful of her injury, and carried her out of the transport to an awaiting gurney. They wheeled her at high speed through the corridors toward the medbay. One of the techs unwisely tried to stop Jason from following them to the trauma ward and ended up having the business end of the gunnery sergeant’s pistol in his face.

“What have we got?” the doc in charge asked, rounding the corner and taking in the little scene with an experienced eye. “Gunny, put it up or I’ll have you remove—” He stopped as he caught sight of the woman on the bed, her hand still wrapped in Jason’s.

“Okay, this changes things. You can keep her calm and you can stay. Give up the pistol though. If we’re taking her in, I don’t want any weaponry near her.”

He stepped up to the gurney as a nurse relieved Jason of his pistol. Playing tug of war with it for a moment, he relented as the doc spoke again.

“Nice to see you again, Arita. I see you’ve been in the wars. I’m just going to take a look at this side.” He flicked a glance up at Jason. “Be ready.”

Arita? So he finally had a name. He didn’t have a chance to dwell on that as the doctor probed her wound which elicited a short cry of pain, her back nearly arching off the gurney and her hand clamping down harder on his. He looked down at her, right into her wide eyes. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. He’s just checking your so-called scratch, but he’ll sort it all out and you’ll be just fine.”

“Fuck, she’s going. Get the tranq—”

The doctor didn’t get any further before her eyes went completely dark. Far from acting wounded, she moved with the power and precision Jason had seen earlier. Letting go of his hand, she pushed the doctor away with enough force to send him stumbling back through the curtain that surrounded the cubicle and vaulted from the gurney. Purple blood flowed freely down her side as she paused for a second, her movements like those of an animal seeking a way out. Panicked sounds dropped from her lips, whimpers that got under his skin and touched his heart. She sounded terrified.

Whatever psyche that had been running her through everything earlier wasn’t there now. Now she was just a hurt and terrified woman, confused of her surroundings and not knowing who to trust. That state wasn’t a concept alien to Jason. Not all of his missions had ended in success and more than once he had to rebuild himself with whatever pieces that had been left.

He looked haggard, worn and battle weary; hardly the image of comfort and serenity but he had to do something and he knew in his gut he was the only one who could help her now. Ordering everyone to stay back, he held out his hands to her. “Arita. Hey, it’s me. You have nothing to be afraid of okay? You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you. I’m not going to let them.”

She turned toward his voice, the color of her eyes still swallowed up.

“She’s gone into shock, it’s a Tralaxian survival trait. She’s operating on base instinct and will kill herself trying to get to safety…or what she perceives as safety in that state.” The doctor picked himself up from the floor, a hand over his side and pain in his eyes as he stayed back. Jason alone was within ten feet of her as she swayed on her feet. She wasn’t running; that was a good sign.

“I’ve never seen her do that before,” the doctor added, drifting forward with fascination in his eyes. “She normally attacks at the slightest provocation.”

“Then we better make sure she doesn’t feel threatened,“ Jason replied, never taking his eyes away from her.

“Arita. You can trust me.” He said to her again softly as he knelt down, trying to appear smaller so he would seem less of a threat. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

He wasn’t sure what he was doing, acting on instinct himself and hoping to whatever God that was listening right now that some part of her could understand what he was saying to her.

She paused, the leg of her already dirty cargo pants staining with purple. If he didn’t do something soon, the bleeding was going to become a big problem. And the doc’s couldn’t sort it out if they couldn’t get near her. A fact proven as the doctor took a step too close. Her head snapped around, and her fists came up to deal with the new threat. In that moment, Jason took his chance.

He leapt and wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her down, making sure he hit the deck first and cushioned her smaller body. She gasped and started to fight hard and desperate. Flipping her to her back, he tried to pin her down. Even out of it, it was obvious she was well trained. He spent more time trying to block her hits than anything else while trying to capture her hands. She nearly got him with a knee to the groin which he prevented by spreading her thighs apart and pinning her with his weight. He stifled a groan of pleasure as her bucking hips repeatedly ground her groin against the erection in his pants. Now was not the time.

Despite his best efforts, she landed a hard blow to his gut which almost sent him doubling over in pain while a strike intended for his chin grazed his cheek, cutting it with her nails. Still he fought on and eventually managed to capture her wrists and hold them over her head.

He finally lost it and yelled. “Hey! Stop it!”

His shout seemed to get through. She stopped fighting, her breathing hard and fast. Carefully he adjusted his grip on her wrists, not wanting to hurt her any more than she already was.

“Keep talking,” the doc advised in a low voice, keeping out of sight behind him. Jason nodded to show he’d heard but kept his attention on the woman underneath him. Trying to keep his movements casual, he lifted his hips from the cradle of hers and hoped to God none of the medical staff noticed his current condition. What a fucking mess. He couldn’t feel any less of a pervert, lusting after a woman half out of her head with pain.

“Shhh, doll. I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting go of one of her wrists experimentally. She didn’t hit him, or try to squirm so he released the other one, using his hands to smooth down her body, tucking her in tight against him as he transferred his weight onto his side.

She was looking up into him with those darkened blue-green eyes as he held her close. Darkened was better than totally black. He had to be doing something right. He stroked his hand down her back as he continued to comfort her. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The doc finally closed in and pressed the inoculator to her neck. One quick puff and the sedatives were pumped into her bloodstream to work magic. Her eyelids drifted, but she jerked them open as if to take one last look to make sure he was still there, then let them flutter closed.

Colonel Arita Rhade woke with a blinding headache and a pain in her side. No stranger to wounds acquired in battle, she gave herself a bit of a break before she opened her eyes. The standard soft-tiled ceiling of star ships the galaxy over met her eyes while the sharp, antiseptic smell that reached her nostrils told her she was in a medbay.

“Ugh, crap.”

Rolling to her side, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and balanced on the edge as she waited for her head to stop spinning. She hated medbays, loathed and detested them with a passion. Normally she avoided them, her mixed species physiology meaning she was hardier than most, but obviously she’d gotten nailed on the extraction, and not in a good way.

She was still a little bit out of it, and thought she was alone, but the smell of soap and clean male skin triggered her sensitive sense of smell. Deep even breaths behind her further tipped her off that she wasn’t. But who would be in here with her? She didn’t have any family close, and most that she did have would look down their noses at her for being weak enough to land in the medbay anyway. Grape carrying, concerned relatives they weren’t. Looking over her shoulder, she found the source of the breathing. A solidly built marine was quietly sleeping next to the bed, his tall frame crammed in a chair that was too small for him.

She paused to look at him, wincing as she pressed a hand to her side. Memories started to filter through. The beating in the small room, how she’d enticed the guy near to her with promises of sex…wrapping her legs around his shoulders and sending him to hell in a bone-snapping twist of her thighs. Then this guy and another had showed up and blown the door of its hinges. She shook her head as she extended her legs, bare feet hovering over the floor as she debated whether or not to try standing.