Chapter Fourteen
The blare of a siren outside gave Lana a start. When she twisted to the window, brush in hand, a shower of paint spattered across her freshly painted wall and on the floor. She glared at yet another mess to clean up. Men shouting and boots thudding outside in the street drew her attention to the windows again. In a flash, she was down the ladder and at the floor-to-ceiling front windows. Looking out at the dirty, dusty, and frequently mud-caked capital city, she was reminded of pictures from high school history class of the western frontier. Lana half expected Wyatt Earp to come riding in on a horse, with a tin star pinned to his black topcoat.
With her cheek pressed against the newly installed glass—also christened with blobs of paint from her errant brush—she strained to see what was going on down the street but didn’t have a good angle. Curious, but most of all tired of the monotony of painting, which was about as entertaining as watching it dry, she rushed to the front doors to see what was happening.
When she stepped outside, she saw men pouring out of buildings and running toward the west end, where there was nothing except temporary storage for the sizeable construction supplies, big sewer pipes, and steel girders. But across from it, just last month, they’d opened the new emergency services headquarters. Not yet populated enough to warrant full-time crews, fire, and emergency medical personnel were on call round the clock, summoned by electronic messages and the civil alert sirens.
Maybe it was a drill. She’d read on the BRK digital message board monthly disaster preparedness drills would be starting soon. This included all the designated first responders, most employed as construction workers, security personnel employed by the contractors, and a contingent of Primarian Warriors stationed on-site since they provided planetary defense and would until military personnel were deployed to the fledgling colony within the coming year.
Terra Nova was most definitely a work in progress. From her vantage point, she could see their only clinic, the general store, the pub, the bakery, the two restaurants—such as they were—and, at the far end of the street, two large residence halls. One housed families and the other was for singles. The former was where she and the five other unmarried women on the planet lived with over three hundred single men. Beck had exaggerated only slightly when he said women were outnumbered 100 to 1. With the last arrivals from Earth a few weeks ago, women now accounted for 5 percent of the total population. They were wives of workers, nurses at the clinic, engineers who worked for Beck, and, like her, construction workers. There were also a couple of scientists, and the only female heavy equipment operator who also worked for BRK. Still much in the minority, Lana had a small taste of what the Primarian females had been dealing with for the past two decades.
She was flirted with outrageously by her primarily male neighbors. They weren’t pushy when she politely said no, but she felt the looks they aimed her way. She’d been asked out by practically every man on the fourth floor where she lived. Ordinarily, she’d be flattered, but she kept telling herself beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers. Here for six months without female companionship, they were like sailors looking forward to shore leave, but no relief was in sight. The first batch of nonessential inhabitants was still at least six months away.
Beck had laid down the law to her. No walking alone after dark, always wait for an escort, don’t encourage if she wasn’t interested, and never play one against the other, not if she didn’t want them fighting over her. When he told her this in his stern big brother voice, the image of two dusty cowboys in a bar brawl, one throwing the other through the plate glass window into the street popped into her head. When she’d giggled, he’d snapped at her to be serious.
Although she hadn’t taken his warnings serious at first, when she started getting their attention, she realized he was right. She didn’t want to be in the middle of more drama, so she kept her eyes and smiles to herself. Not that she had much reason to smile since coming to the colony.
The siren was still blaring, which she found odd for a drill. With growing curiosity, Lana started walking toward the west end. As she passed by the building under construction on the corner, a man rushed out and nearly collided with her. She recognized him as Jack Spalding, one of the electricians on Beck’s crew.
“I didn’t see you, Lana. Sorry,” he said as he steadied her. “But I was in a hurry.”
“I’m fine. Do you know what the sirens are about?”
“There was an explosion in the new mine,” he explained, only slowing, not stopping. “I’m on the response team. Gotta get there before they’re wheels up without me.”
“Of course,” she murmured, but he had already started down the street at a jog.
This didn’t sound good.
Just then, she felt a tremor beneath her feet, and the windows in the buildings up and down the street shook. She looked toward the west and saw smoke rising in the distance. It was a bright day, not a cloud in the purplish sky, and she could see the plume from where she stood, fifty miles away.
“Dear God, let everyone be all right,” she whispered as she also began running to the west end. She knew CPR and basic first aid, maybe she could help.
A Primarian-made shuttle was taking off when she arrived, and a group of about a dozen men was in the process of boarding a second. She noticed a red tunic-wearing warrior directing the loading of some equipment. He seemed to be in charge, so she headed his way.
“I’m a former USIF ensign, trained in basic emergency techniques,” she explained, not wasting time on preliminaries. “I’d like to do what I can to help.”
His lavender-eyed gaze looked her up and down from head to toe, and, from the flat line of his lips, she could tell he wasn’t impressed. Looking as she did, which she’d been told was a lot like Barbie with her narrow waist and slim hips, made more so with her recent weight loss, and blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, she could guess what he was thinking. But she had a brain in her head and could think fast on her feet.
“If you’ve been here any length of time, warrior, you know you can’t judge a human female by her cover. I’m trained, and, from the size of the smoke cloud, you’ll need all the help you can get.”
“We’ve got it under control, female. You could go to the clinic and wait. If there are victims, they will need help when the shuttles return.”
“But—”
“Do as he says, Lana.”
The familiar voice sent chills down her spine and she whirled. “Trask,” she whispered.
His eyes met hers briefly then shifted to the warrior. “This one looks loaded and ready to go, Tarus. Give the order. They don’t have time to spare.”
He nodded, giving Lana an irritated glance. “I was about to, General, before I was interrupted.” He walked to the door and stuck only his head inside the standing-room-only shuttle. “All clear for liftoff, Argo.”
“I’m closing the doors now. Stand back.”
The warrior stepped away and gave the side of the hull a slap before he took his place on Trask’s other side. When the shuttle cleared the landing pad and took off with barely a sound—Primarian technology far exceeded Earth’s own—Lana saw two other shuttles loading up. More men were waiting to board, but not enough to fill them both.
“You have room for me. I came to help, Trask. You’ll need me if there are many injured.”
“We have three dozen emergency personnel on the way, and my warriors can handle the rest. Do as Tarus suggested. Go check in at the clinic and see what help Adria needs. There are only three of them on duty today.”
“But—”
“Do not argue with me,” he barked. “There isn’t time. Stay here, where it is safe. That is an order.”
She bristled. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to do anymore.”
“Wrong. Until your people are up to the task, warriors oversee security on the colony and have full authority to do what is necessary to ensure the safety of the citizens and maintain order, from the lowliest recruit to the highest ranking, which is me.” He took a step closer, dipped his head, and lowered his voice. “Get to the clinic, Lana. Do not defy me in this. I don’t have time, and neither does anyone who may have been injured in that blast. Are we clear on this?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he and Tarus both walked off in the direction of one of the shuttles. Stung by his brusque address, and his dismissive attitude, Lana glared after him. Despite the civilized clothing and advanced technology, both men would fit in perfectly back in the Stone Age.
“Arrogant, chauvinistic jerks, the lot of them,” she muttered, watching as Tarus then Trask climbed into the craft. A few minutes later, it took off like the others, with no more than a hum.
Trask was justified in being short with her. Most exes weren’t buddy-buddy, after all, but the other man, who she’d never met before had treated her with the same frosty disdain. In fact, all the warriors on the colony looked at her with a similar expression, as if they’d rather be anywhere else than in her presence. No, worse, as if she had a horrible case of B.O. Before she left, they’d always been polite, and most were friendly. Not anymore.
They weren’t rude, per se, or openly hostile, but they went out of their way to avoid her, or like Tarus, when they spoke to her called her “human female.” Of course, she’d been called Trask’s mate back then—as if she didn’t have an identity without a direct connection to their illustrious, far superior gender. Bleck!
She was confident they didn’t hold all human females in contempt, only her. They respected their esteemed general, and she had ended things with him badly. The rumors on board the ship had spread like wildfire and likely made the rounds as quickly back on Primaria. It was small, the population only 300,000 before they had arrived.
Most of the stories she’d heard were exaggerated. Unfortunately, one was true; she’d taken the coward’s way out and left him a note. Yes, Primaria still used paper—or a synthetic reusable form that didn’t kill off trees and was safe for the environment. Leave it to them to be eco-conscious. Use of paper on Earth had been abolished fifty years ago due to catastrophic deforestation—too little, too late for their home, unfortunately. But that wasn’t the point. Words on paper were cold. Even in the days before instant communication, it was in poor taste to break up with someone by note. In the modern age, there were so many other options to be face-to-face. There was live HVC—holographic video chat. Still, it wasn’t ideal, but, with the world in turmoil, and much of it at war, being in the same place at the same time wasn’t always possible. Neither was HVC, with widespread power outages and communications interfaces shutting down frequently. Barring that, a HIM—holographic instant message—would have been better than a note, but it still came off as impersonal.
Her momentous blunder still made her groan. She should have done something important like this one-on-one with Trask, but she couldn’t have faced him, witnessed the shock and hurt in his eyes, and still gone through with it. What’s more, the Odyssey was leaving, and she couldn’t wait.
Often, she rationalized since she was ending things, it didn’t make sense to draw it out or put them both through a painful scene. She should have known she couldn’t avoid it. He’d come after her. Yeah, she should have put money on him doing exactly that. If she had, she’d be filthy rich right about now.
So, yes, she was a coward and deserved the warriors’ scorn on their leader’s behalf.
Ready to be obedient—not that she had other choices—Lana turned to leave the shuttle port. As she did, something bright blue on a bench in front of the EMS building caught her eye. When she got close enough, she recognized it as a vest, the kind paramedics wore. Looking around, she saw no one coming for it, and when she stood on her toes and peeked through the window, she saw no one inside.
Did she dare?
She glanced at the last shuttle. Men, and, this time, two women wearing similar vests and blue jeans were waiting to board. Not thinking of the consequences, which wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knew her well, she slipped on the vest and joined the others at the end of the line. When she saw the woman in front of her juggling an armful of boxes stamped with red crosses, she relieved her of two of them.
“Thanks. These emergency kits are awkward and heavy,” she said while turning. Lana watched her head jerk ever so slightly in surprise when she saw her. Then her eyes lowered to her vest. “Are you new?”
“I just arrived. You might say I’m wet behind the ears.” Both were accurate statements although vague and deliberately misleading.
“Mm…” she hummed, considering her for a moment and shrugged. “We don’t know what we’re up against, but I have a feeling we’re going to need all the help we can get. I’m Chandra Greene. Stick with me since you haven’t been through orientation yet. Are you a medic or technician?”
This time Lana told an outright lie. “Technician.”
She frowned again. “Too bad, we could use another medic. We requested a doctor from the clinic, but they’re short-staffed as it is and need the one they have to manage any incoming traumas. The plan is to triage, stabilize in the field, and ship ’em out. Got it?”
“Come along, ladies,” a man called impatiently, motioning to them from the double doors of the shuttle. Everyone else had boarded while she and the medic were talking. He was human, to Lana’s relief, and barely looked at her when she stepped inside. Once she was clear of the door and on her way to a seat, he climbed in and shouted an all clear to the pilot.
“Ready to go, Jack.”
“Got it,” he called back.
Seeing her fellow BRK crewmember at the controls, Lana slid down in her seat. But he didn’t notice, too busy with takeoff procedures to pay attention to his passengers, other than to ensure everyone was in. “Buckle up,” he called one last time before the shuttle left the ground. “We’re going in hot.”
Organized chaos—those were the words that came to mind a few minutes later when she looked out the window at the scene below them. There was a frenzy of activity, warriors and medics rushing about helping the wounded, the former often carrying injured in their arms. And everything, whether the ground, or the air, or the people, was covered in fine green dust. The worst of it billowed with the smoke spewing from the mouth of what she suspected used to be the entrance to the uladite mine.
The shuttle slowed and hovered over what seemed to her was an impossibly small landing site, but Jack, who was a surprisingly skilled pilot, set them down easy without the scraping crunch of metal she’d expected to hear.
A bag of supplies dropped in her lap. “You carry this and stay with me. Let’s go.” When she glanced up from the canvas duffel, she saw the medic who had taken charge of her—thankfully—already exiting the craft, evidently having no doubt Lana would dutifully follow.
She experienced a sick sense of dread she might not live up to the help she promised, and hinder the rescue instead. But hands were hands she told herself, and she could always fetch and carry or comfort those who were hurt. Determined to do something productive, she followed her temporary boss from the shuttle and got busy.
For the next two hours, she worked side by side with Chandra, holding pressure to bleeding wounds, starting oxygen—after being shown how once—and keeping broken limbs in place while the experienced medic applied air splints. Lana took vital signs, which she figured out quickly because the external monitor with a diagram and labels about where to put the sticky electrodes was self-explanatory. She also flagged down warriors and had them transfer the injured after being triaged to the waiting shuttles.
“You did good, rookie.”
Glancing up, she paused in the middle of restocking the emergency kit with bandage supplies from the bag she had toted in. Chandra looked wiped out, her long curly hair, that two hours ago was in a neat knot at the back of her head, had come loose and was now a disheveled glowing green cloud around her face.
“Thanks. But you deserve the praise. I am in awe of your skill as a medic.”
“And you’re a pretty good technician, although you aren’t one, are you?”
Caught in her well-meaning lie, Lana froze, but when the other woman’s lips twitched in amusement, rather than getting angry and chewing her out, she confessed. “No. I’m USIF, or used to be, and had first aid in basic training.”
She nodded. “I figured it was something like that, and you couldn’t stay away.”
“I couldn’t sit on my butt and do nothing, especially when I heard there were injuries. I had to see if I could help.”
“I’m glad you did, despite the fib. You should get trained, you’ve got good instincts and didn’t faint at the sight of blood.”
Lana laughed. “It usually makes me queasy.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, but not today. I guess it was the adrenalin rush.” She looked around. “So that’s all of them?”
“Yep, except for a few minor scratches and bumps from the stubborn ones who refused treatment while dealing with this mess.” She twisted to look at the still-smoking mine. “Wonder what happened?”
“From the tremors we felt from fifty miles out, I’d guess a targeted remote detonation or something like a cobalt bunker blaster like we use back home.”
“Why would you say that instead of a cave-in?”
“Look around. See the debris field? It blew out. A collapse would mean an implosion. The leaves on the trees are withered, not burned, which means heat, but no fire. Most of the smoke is actually particulate matter, a mix of dirt, fine rocks and minerals, liquid droplets, and uladite—thus the pervasive green—and, considering the density, height, and reach of the cloud, whatever explosive they used packed a wallop.”
Chandra stared at her in openmouthed amazement, then she asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Lana Hartman.”
“You’re one of the original eight!”
“I may never live that down, but, yes, and I’m also a geologist.”
“That explains it. Thanks for your help, Lana Hartman.”
“Thanks for not getting upset about my little lie, Medic Chandra. If we’re finished here, I’d like to poke around and see if I can identify more clues to help determine what’s going on.”
“Sure, but stick to this side of the perimeter, and listen for a good-to-go signal. Once we’re packed up, we’ll be shipping out. I heard one of the warriors say the whole area is unstable.”
“After that explosion, I’m not surprised, but I’ll stay close and listen up.”
But Lana proceeded to do what she agreed not to and walked beyond the marked boundary of their triage area, in the direction of the mine. It was the only way to find out for sure what had occurred. She encountered more of the same—green dust, jagged rocks, and not surprisingly more green dust. Something odd about a copse of trees nearby had her wandering that way.
“You there!”
Looking over her shoulder at the dusty, dirt-smudged warrior standing behind her. His hands were fisted on his hips and his scowl, though green like everything else, fiercely forbidding.
Yikes! They must practice it in warrior’s basic training.
“You’re not one of the human’s assigned to the medical team; I know them all by name. Who are you and what are you doing out here?”
Her heart stopped. It was Tarus. She recognized his voice, if not him, covered as he was in filth. But she must look as bad as he did, for he didn’t seem to recall meeting her earlier. She’d tied up her long hair to keep it out of the way, maybe that was partially the reason. She lowered her voice hoping it wouldn’t trigger his memory.
“Uh, yes, well, this was my first assignment.”
Scowling unhappily, he moved closer. “No one mentioned anything about new personnel.”
“It was sudden. I was assigned to another task but offered to step in when one of the other, um, technicians wasn’t able to make it.”
He eyed her skeptically. “Let me see your credentials.”
“My uh....”
“Yes,” he replied, an edge of impatience in his tone. “You wouldn’t be allowed onto a shuttle without security credentials.” He held out his hand.
She stared back at him but was unable to hold his gaze, not with the intensity of his golden eyes searing into her. She shifted, glancing over his shoulder while scrambling to come up with another plausible answer.
“Humans.” He smirked, sounding mildly disgusted. “Why you attempt to lie makes no sense. Most of you can’t do it for shit. You all have a tell.” When she gaped at him in surprise, he added, “It’s in the eyes.” He approached and took her by the arm, firmly, so she knew she didn’t have a snowballs chance in you-know-where of getting free, though not painfully. “Come with me. You can tell your lies to the general.”
“Surely that isn’t necessary. Ask Chandra, the medic; I’m with her.”
He cast her a suspicious sideways glance. “Sounds to me you don’t want to meet General Trask. Why is that?”
“I’m sure with all that’s going on he is very busy.” She spied Chandra’s green-dusted head and gestured. “There she is. Over by the shuttle. They’re loading up for takeoff; I really should help.”
He stopped, staring down at her. He was tall, a few inches shy of Trask’s seven-feet four inches, but still towered well above her. “What were you doing away from the site? We had it cordoned off for a reason.”
“Merely gathering my wits. It was a hectic few hours with the constant flow of victims.”
His narrowed golden gaze considered her for a moment then released her. “All right. Get back to the team, but don’t wander off again. The entire area is unstable.”
The words had barely passed from his lips when a tremor shook the ground. Lana staggered, though the sturdier warrior did not. He grabbed hold of her again, keeping her from hitting the dirt, butt first. A rumbling noise followed, and another tremor then the soil beneath their feet began to shift.
“We need to go, now,” the warrior barked, his hands tightening around both her arms as though prepared to pick her up and carry her. But it was too late, the ground began to give way, and they started to sink as if standing in quicksand. Heavier by at least one hundred fifty pounds, the warrior was up to his hips in seconds.
“Don’t struggle, it will make it worse,” she warned him as she scrabbled with both hands at the surrounding dirt for a handhold—a tree root, a vine, something.
“Save yourself if you’re able, female,” he shouted, to be heard over more rumbling and loud hissing noise emanating from somewhere nearby.
Lana had heard it before but from a distance. If they didn’t get out now, they were toast.
Shouts from nearby told them the others had noticed what was happening. But Lana was afraid it was too late because she was covered to her thighs, Tarus, now buried in shifting dirt to his chest was about to be sucked under. The rushing, swirling earth around her legs had started pulling her down when a rope dropped from above and smacked her in the chest. Lana grabbed hold, running it through both hands until she found the end. She made a loop, knotted it like a lasso, and tossed it to the warrior. Always good with horseshoes as a kid, her aim was still true, and on her first try—thank heaven—the circle fell over his head.
“Put your arm through and hold on,” she yelled over another loud rumble.
“No,” he roared. “Save yourself first, woman. The others can worry about me.”
“Sorry, Tarus. Today is your day to follow a woman’s orders for a change. Tighten the loop and hang on.” As she said this, she coiled some slack around her forearm several times to decrease the tension. Next, she gripped the loose rope above with the other, tugged as a go signal, adding with a shout, “We’re good. Haul us up, now.”
The rope tightened and jerked, putting pressure on her arm. She gritted her teeth, rope burn, and a few bruises were nothing compared to suffocating in a pit of quicksand. As soon as her legs were free, she wrapped them around the tow rope and clung to it like the lifeline it was. Abruptly, her upward progress stopped. Lana glanced up frantically.
“No, no, no,” she cried urgently, “keep going!”
Frozen there, suspended in what to her seemed like an avalanche, Lana looked down, checking on the warrior. All she could see of him was from the chin up. The continuous flow of soil and rocks would soon cover his face, getting in his mouth and nose. He’d suffocate, and the pressure of the ground filling in around him would crush him, while he was buried alive.
“We’re out of time!” she screamed frantically, as a large section of ground to her left gave way. She felt a blast of heat and steam rising from the ever-widening crater. “Pull us up, now, dammit—”
Her desperate shout was cut off sharply when she began moving again with a violent jerk. Stabbing pain in her forearm told her at least one of the bones had snapped, but she couldn’t do anything about it while being dragged upward. Her exposed skin scraped against sharp rocks in the loose dirt and gnarled roots; both scratched deep enough to sting and draw blood. But these were minor injuries compared to a fracture, and worse—an awful, painful death.
Soon Lana’s head cleared the rim of the hole, and the ground beneath her body became solid. Her eyes watered, burning from the dirt and dust particles. She had it in her ears and up her nose, and with it filling her mouth it choked her. But was out of breath and dragged in a gulp of air anyway, coughing and gasping, her lungs on fire.
Strong hands moving over her uncoiled the rope, hooked under her armpits, and pulled her clear. Other men continued to work, grunting as they strained to haul Tarus out of the hole to safety.
She twisted in the arms that held her, trying to get a glimpse of him. “Is he okay?” she cried. “Please, tell me it wasn’t too late.”
Hard fingers dug into her shoulders holding her in place. “Don’t move, lest you get sucked under again.”
To clear the dirt from her eyes, she blinked rapidly, her gaze darting from the grime-covered coughing warrior emerging from the hole behind her to the place where they had stood only minutes before. Everything was gone, trees, brush, rocks. In its place was a large, still-widening crater of tumbling, swirling, yawning earth.
“Dear God!”
“Whether your God or my Maker or one in the same, surely He watched over you and Tarus this day.”
She turned her head and looked up at the tall warrior behind her. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, taking in the devastation before them.
“Thank you for saving us, Trask,” she murmured, her words tremulous as the shock of her narrow escape began to register.
His chin tilted downward, his eyes darkly turbulent. “This is why I ordered you to stay behind,” he stated in a voice edged with anger.
Of all the warriors who had responded to the emergency, of course, it would be Trask to find her, rescue her, and take her to task for defying him in the first place. She didn’t answer, she couldn’t, not with her heart thumping hard in her chest, and her knees as shaky as Jell-O. They wouldn’t hold her much longer. As proof, she swayed beneath his hands.
“Faex,” he grumbled. The next instant, she was enveloped in his arms. The pressure applied to her injury made her cry out in pain. “What is it? Where are you hurt?”
“My arm. The rope snapped it.”
“Which one?” he demanded.
“My right.”
He shifted her and relieved the pressure.
Another loud rumble shook them where they stood, and a broad ribbon of steam rose in the air from the center of the hole. Lana stared at it, both mystified and horror-struck.
“We need to get to safety lest we all get sucked into the sinkhole.”
Trask took the words out of her mouth, almost. “It’s not a sinkhole, Trask,” she whispered, “but a phreatic crater. The blast has destabilized the entire area and must have opened a feeder from the nearby lake to an underground magma pool. It’s heating, releasing through a vent as steam and when the pressure builds enough…”
“Boom,” he murmured.
“Hiss, boom, bang,” she corrected. “Steam, rocks, scalding water, ash, and worst-case scenario, lava.”
“Bring Tarus, quickly,” he ordered in a thunderous roar. “We need to get out of here, now!”
He led the way back to the clearing, his long strides covering the distance swiftly. The movement jostled her arm painfully, and she couldn’t hold back a groan.
“Cradle it across your body,” he directed without slowing, He didn’t pause to look back, having every expectation his men would follow his orders. Lana closed her eyes; she was one of the few who seemed to have trouble doing so.
“Medic!” he shouted as he took her directly to one of the shuttles and strapped her into a seat near the front. Then, he stood, arms crossed, staring down at her silently, as the others boarded. He seemed not to notice, and from the stern, decidedly scary expression on his face, she expected the chewing out to begin immediately, regardless of their audience.
Instead, his eyes moved from her face, down her body, lingering on her arm. She followed his gaze and saw it was sharply out of alignment and swelling quickly.
“Are you injured anywhere else, other than cuts and bruises?”
“No, just my arm.” It was bleeding, and now that the excitement had passed, the sight of her own blood made her sick. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Breathe slow and easy, little one.” Then he twisted and shouted out the door. “Medic. Here. Now!”
“I’m here,” Chandra called as she climbed in. Then she jerked to a sudden halt upon seeing Lana was her next patient. “I told you not to wander off.”
“Scold her later. But you’ll have to get in line behind me,” Trask growled. To Chandra, he stated, “You’ll have to treat her while we’re in the air. We can’t risk staying here longer.”
She nodded as she dropped to her knees on the floor by her feet.
“Get a bag,” he advised. “She’s squeamish about blood.”
Chandra passed her a barf bag and then examined her arm. “It’s broken in two places, rookie. I’ll splint it until we get to the clinic. Do you need something for pain?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Give it to her,” Trask demanded in a frightening growl.
Both women looked up at him in surprise.
“By the Maker, Lana. It’s bent at a fucking forty-five-degree angle. It hurts me simply by looking at it.” His eyes blazed down at Chandra. “I’m not lifting off until you give her a dose of fucking pain medication.”
The medic looked back at Lana, eyes full of both fear and uncertainty. It was likely she didn’t know the f-word wasn’t part of the general’s standard vocabulary. If so, she would have already given her the medication.
Lana was stunned, and since he was undoubtedly on the brink of snapping, she agreed. “Do it.”
Chandra breathed out a heavy sigh and quickly got the shot ready. Lana noticed they had acquired the Primarian technology as she held the silver osmotic infuser to her arm. A hint of warmth on her skin was the only indication the medication went in.
“It will take effect in a few minutes,” she explained.
“I’ll be okay, Trask.
“We’ll let the physic determine that when he sees you.” This was an order not to argue if she’d ever heard one, and with her military background, she’d heard plenty. Suddenly, he bent over her, his hands gripping the armrests as he got in her face, so close, their noses almost touched.
“You scared twenty years off my life, woman. I don’t know whether to kiss you, breathless from relief you’re alive, or turn you over my knee and smack your butt until you can’t sit for a week for defying my orders.”
“But, Trask—”
“You have until the physic affirms you are fit for me to decide. If you’re smart, you’ll sit here without saying a word, and try to act like you’ve learned a lesson, perhaps that will appease me.”
She swallowed, hard, and nodded.
“Don’t count on it,” he drawled in a menacing tone. Then he straightened but didn’t move away, staring down at her with his jaw clenched.
“Trask—”
“Without a word,” he barked, his eyes snapping with dark blue-green fire. “Once we’re out of here and back on stable ground, I’ll deal with you.”
Because she didn’t dare test his already-towering fury, and because she was already getting curious stares and knowing looks from the others on board, Lana kept her mouth shut.
“Smart girl,” he uttered softly, before moving away to find his seat for liftoff.
Lana had the overwhelming urge to stick her tongue out at him, but she refrained. She was embarrassed enough thinking the others may have heard his threat to spank her. They’d been the topic of gossip for months, here on Terra Nova, as well as Primaria, and she didn’t need to fuel the rumor mill and add to the speculation. Most were Primarian and wouldn’t think anything of a warrior disciplining his woman. Except for Chandra, who, as close as she was, had heard for sure.
“I didn’t think you were mates anymore,” the medic whispered.
“We’re not.”
“Um, did someone tell him that?”
She glared daggers at her former mate, managing to quell the impulse to tell him off; since she wasn’t stupid, but mostly because her embarrassed anger went away, replaced by concern when she saw him strapping into the pilot’s chair. Maybe, with the urgency to leave, he was doing the preflight check while they waited for the pilot to arrive. She glanced around for another warrior, or green-shirted Primarian to enter and take the helm, but the last one on board secured the doors and called up front. “Good to go, General.”
Lana sat up straighter, her eyes sweeping the standing-room-only shuttle filled with dirty, disheveled warriors, EMS staff, and a few miners with noncritical injuries. Why was no one else alarmed the general was taking command of the craft?
“Where is Jack?” she asked loudly, of no one in particular.
“Injured,” someone called out from the back. “He left on an earlier shuttle.”
“Um, Trask?”
“You are supposed to be quiet, Lana, thinking about healing and not pissing me off.”
She frowned. So much for getting sympathy for being injured.
“But Trask…”
“What is it?”
“Uh, do you know what you’re doing?”
Someone bit off a laugh.
“I mean you never said before you could pilot one of these things.”
“I could pilot the Odyssey to Earth and back; does that answer your question?”
“Oh, well, then...I guess it does.”
More snickers echoed behind her.
“Is this question-and-answer session over, paulova? I’m rather busy trying to keep us from getting sucked into a steam-spewing hole in the ground on the verge of erupting.”
“Oh, yes, please, do that.”
For some reason, those in back found this hilarious, despite their dire situation. She cast a frown at them over her shoulder, but the sudden movement made the misaligned bones in her forearm throb. Facing front again, she kept quiet, and when she did, an eerie hush settled over the passengers. After the past few harrowing hours, they were undoubtedly in various stages of mental shock and physical exhaustion. If they were like Lana, their minds were awhirl at the cause of the mine explosion and the near catastrophic aftermath. She had a few ideas, sabotage coming to mind first, which meant they had an enemy in their midst. Second, it had been a natural occurrence possibly an earthquake. And third, the most worrisome cause of all, that Terra Nova, their new home and beacon of hope, might not be as stable as it had been purported to be.
When the craft lifted off without a hitch and didn’t in seconds go crashing back to the ground, she blew out a relieved breath. It was short-lived because a thunderous boom rattled and shook their small craft. As one, they stared out the window at the ash cloud billowing into the air.
“Trask?”
“Yes, Lana?”
“Hiss, boom, bang.”
He didn’t reply.
The pain medication had kicked in. “Do you have more of that stuff,” she asked, her speech slightly slurred.
“Why?” Chandra asked, sounding amused. “It seems to be working.”
“Not for now, for later, when the big scary alien flying this thing decides to finish his lesson.”
“Don’t even think about it,” came the low rumbled warning from up front. “Once she’s healed, she’s going to feel every smarting swat.”
Chandra squeaked as the warriors in the back chuckled harder. Lana suddenly felt a tingling warmth spread through her insides. He didn’t hate her so if he bothered to spank her, and he’d called her paulova. God, she’d missed that.
The drug was coursing through her veins now. She could tell by the fogginess in her head and by the way she couldn’t keep her eyelids open. But they didn’t keep her from smiling before she drifted away.
***
A sense of déjà vu swept over her upon waking and staring into painfully bright lights.
“She’s awake, brother.” There was a pause, then his handsome face with the beautiful aquamarine eyes blocked out the light as he bent over her. “How are you, Lana? Still groggy?” Adria, rather than Trask asked.
“Yes, a bit. Where am I?”
“The clinic in town,” she replied as she moved away.
The overhead lights pierced into her brain again. “Must it be so bright in here? I’m being blinded.”
“Pardon me. It helps us with an examination if we can see. I’ll dim them.”
Lana relaxed as soon as the lights went from excruciatingly bright to only mildly irritating.
“You’re free to go as soon as you wake up fully.”
“My arm?”
“Healed.” At the familiar rumble from her other side, she rolled her head. Trask stood beside her bed.
She raised her arm. It looked normal, not bent or twisted, no swelling, and it didn’t have a scratch on it. “How is this possible?”
“We put you in the healing accelerator delivered only last week. It mended the fractures in your arm—both the radius and ulna were snapped in three pieces—and it healed the rope burn on your skin as well as a wealth of scratches, cuts, and bruises.”
“Amazing.”
“Has she been cleared by Ellar?” Trask asked his sister impatiently.
“Yes.”
He nodded once. “I’ll take her home.”
Adria looked up, glanced at the door then turned back, her expression grim. “But…well, she has a friend here. He’s been waiting since she was brought in and says he will be taking her home.”
“Beck is here?” she asked of Adria, feeling a wave of fury emanating from Trask, and not having the guts to look in his direction.
“Yes, and he’s been worried, pacing the floor constantly.”
“Tell him I’ll be right out.”
A growl rumbled from beside her.
“Brother…”
“Leave us.”
“But—”
“Now, Adria.” His order, issued in an ominous tone, left no room for misinterpretation. She whirled and headed for the door.
“Wait!” Lana cried. “You can’t leave me.” She left the “with him” she’d intended off for the same reason she wanted Adria to stay.
With a sympathetic glance over her shoulder, but not stopping, she explained, “I’ll tell Mr. Kincaid you’re awake and doing fine.”
Then the coward abandoned her to the looming, growling, seven-foot-tall irate alien.
“Who is that man to you?” he demanded to know as soon as the door closed and they were alone.
“A friend, like she said. And my boss.”
“I saw him carrying you on the street not long ago, and now he’s pacing the waiting area like a worried mate. Answer me truthfully. Do you have feelings for him? If so, I will go and ask him to see to your punishment.”
“As I said, he’s a friend, and no one is punishing me, Trask. Not Beck, and not you.”
He leaned over her, fists planted on either side of her body, and his eyes flashing with blue-green indignation seared into her. “You deserve to have your backside blistered for the stunt you pulled.”
“Yes, you mentioned that earlier, but you won’t.”
With a humorless laugh he challenged, “You think not?”
“You don’t have the right. Not that you ever did.”
He arched a brow but said nothing. He didn’t have to. He’d spanked her, yes, but as punishment went, for her, it was very ineffective. Having his big hands on her bare skin, swatting her butt, warming it, bringing a scrumptious sting to spots very close to other places which vibrated and tingled pleasurably was hardly a deterrent. She’d enjoyed it, much to her dismay at first. She’d wiggled and squirmed, groaning as her body heated, and, yes, begged for more, especially when his fingers dipped between her thighs and slid over her wet pussy, more proof, not that he needed it, how much she liked being over his knees.
He leaned down, his elbows bending until he was in her face. “What the hell were you thinking going out there, Lana?”
“I wanted to help, and I did. Ask the medic I assisted for nearly three straight hours.”
“The end doesn’t justify the means. I think that’s an Earth saying that applies here, don’t you?”
This time she stayed silent. It was on the tip of her tongue to demand he ask the injured she’d helped if the means justified the end. She guessed they’d say hell, yes. But he was ticked at her, in overprotective warrior mode and wouldn’t be reasonable right not. She kept quiet rather than poke the already-angry alien.
“Nothing to say?”
“You’ve said enough I think, General. Besides, you’ve already decided my guilt.”
“Lana…”
“I helped, Trask,” she snapped, coming off the bed enough her nose nearly touched his. “I’m not the type to sit by wringing my hands and waiting when I can be of assistance. Rather like you.”
“We aren’t discussing me. We’re discussing a disobedient, untrained female, impersonating a medic.”
“A technician, I never said I was a medic.”
“You dare argue semantics when you took someone else’s uniform and boarded a shuttle when I specifically told you to stay put.”
“Would I be praised if I were a man and had done the same?”
“That is not relevant either. You aren’t a man. And further, what about wandering away from the triage site? Your supervisor for today said she told you not to. You defied not only me but her.”
“I was just—”
“And you wandered close to the site of a still-smoldering mine!”
“Trask, I—”
“Tarus followed you there, to see what you were about.”
“I know, but—”
“And your recklessness ended with both of you up to your necks in trouble.”
“Will you stop interrupting and allow me to finish a sentence?” she finally shouted in exasperation.
Surprised by her outburst, he raised a black brow and inclined his dark head.
“Thank you,” she said in a more modulated tone as she lay back on the table. “If you recall, I’m a scientist. And I do have some expertise around holes in the ground spewing heat, rocks, and other debris. I thought I might find some clues as to the cause of the explosion.”
“We already know what caused it.”
“You do? What was it?”
He glowered at her before he straightened. She could tell he was hesitant to share.
“Someone caused this, not something,” she guessed. “Am I right? Why would someone do such a thing? Who would be so cruel? There were dozens of people working at the site.”
“Good question. I suspect the Purists are behind it somehow.”
She frowned. The Purists were vehemently against the treaty and furious over what they felt strongly was a superior Primarian species with inferior humans. “I’m a geologist, not a military expert, but do craters pop up after Primarian underground bombs are employed?”
“When strong enough, it’s possible.”
“And this one was strong enough?”
“Yes, except it wasn’t a single explosion, but a series of them.”
“I need to go back. I think there might be more to this.”
“You’re not going back. It’s too dangerous.”
“But Trask…”
“No, dammit. You may not want to be my mate any longer, but I won’t have you exploring unstable blast sites surrounded by craters spewing rocks, ash, and lava.”
“Is that confirmed?”
“Yes. It seems we had the worst-case scenario. Therefore, the site is off-limits until the research team, which you are still not a part of, tells us otherwise.” He walked away, pausing at the door. “I need to get going, and your friend is waiting.” The last words came out in an ugly tone.
With him leaving, all the raw feelings she felt for him surged to the surface. A confession was on the tip of her tongue because after all this time she still loved him and didn’t think she could take the separation anymore. But she hadn’t changed and still wasn’t what he needed in a mate. The words evaporated, and she remained silent.
“I’ll speak to Kincaid. I know him from council meetings. I’ll make sure he intends to see you home.”
She nodded, her heart aching.
“Goodbye, Lana,” he said in a flat voice. “Be well, and please, so we don’t have to go through anything like this again, stay out of trouble.”
He left, and she lay back, choking on her misery and failing to hold back her tears.