Jaron’s Promise (excerpt)
“Is Lothar’s shuttle gone?” Urgency laced Torkel’s tone.
Gregir cursed. “Confirmed. Original target gone.”
“Jaron, how close are you?”
He wanted to answer his Unit Leader but right now breathing took priority and his lungs burned as he raced through. Then he crested the rise and their shuttle hovered above the ground, rising take off. “I have visual.”
“Get your ass on that shuttle!” Torkel’s anger blasted him.
“My thoughts too, Torkel.” Jaron infused the comment with humor while his heart beat like a drum against his chest.
The shuttle doors slid open as soon as the pilot must have spotted him. Jaron panted, preparing to close the ever increasing distance. He’d have to jump so he kept up his momentum and leaped the last few feet, grasping the edge of the rim on the running boards. Hands reached down to lock onto one of his wrist as the shuttle took off with a burst of power from the engines.
Jaron tossed his laser across the floor and it flew under the seat with a clatter.
“Hang on,” Geile yelled, leaning far over on his stomach as he grabbed Jaron’s wildly swinging other arm.
Air rushed over him, his eyes tearing up from the pressure. Laser fire zinged behind him and one of his legs slammed into a rail. “Fuck!”
“Pull him up, pull him up!” Arak snarled.
The skin on his bare wrists burned. Jaron met Geile’s gaze as his teammates grip slipped further. He wasn’t going to make it. At this rate, his friends were at risk. Jaron parted his lips to speak.
“Fuck, no!” Geile snapped, his blue eyes lit with a fierce light.
More lasers. A burning flare of pain in his lower left leg. Jaron swallowed. This was a risk they all faced when going out. But he refused to take his team down with him. As a Team Leader he had to make the tough call.
“We have to close the door, get him in here, Geile.”
Jaron’s gaze shifted to behind Geile. Arak, Davar and Gregir fought with their safety harnesses, trying to get free to help. They’d have to override the locking system or the pilot.
“Get a safety line on him,” Arak roared.
Geile lost his hold on one wrist and Jaron’s lower half banged into the side of the shuttle again. Pain ricocheted through his hips and groin.
“I can’t! If I reach for it, I’ll lose him.”
The black cord dangled only a few feet away neatly coiled on the rack to the side of the door. Pain again ripped through Jaron’s torso. Something popped at his right shoulder and still the shuttle rose. This wasn’t going to work.
Then the inevitable happened.
“I’m hit!” Geile shouted and pressed his free hand to his straining arm. A large wet stain spread over the black material of his shirt but he tightened his remaining hold on Jaron, the torment evident on his face.
Jaron met Geile’s gaze. “Let me go.”
His friend’s expression ranged from remorse to regret then anger. “Fuck you, no, Jaron.”
“I’ll be fine. Bring Team Three to kick ass and get me.” Jaron forced himself to smile. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid. He’d be foolish not to be. But he had a job to do and an obligation to protect his men if possible.
“Don’t let him go, Geile. Don’t let him go, damn it!”
Jaron wanted to reassure Arak but time dwindled. Any further and he might not survive the fall. He had to let go now.
“Enemy lock! Enemy lock!” Davar yelled. “Shields can’t go up with the door open.”
Defenseless, the entire ship wouldn’t last under heavy fire. No way he wanted to chance everyone’s life. Having said what he needed, Jaron pulled hard on his hand, fingers growing slack from Geile’s as he let himself fall backward.
“Nooo!” Arak used his claws to slice through the harness and dove across the floor. Their eyes met. Fingers touched and missed. Arak snarled and the tip of one claw sliced across Jaron’s open palm.
Free of obstacles, the door slid close. The shuttle’s thrusters engaged full force as it surged away. The Marenian ships gave chase. Jaron tumbled the few feet to the ground, his back jarring as he landed. Breath froze and his lungs seized. He ached all over. No time to focus on the pain. Get up, get up. Have to get up.
Pushing up on to his hands, he gritted his teeth against flaring agony from his busted shoulder. He shoved to his knees and fire raced down his right side. Shoulder dislocated. Laser burn to upper thigh. Another curse slipped passed his lips but Jaron dug his booted heels in and rose unsteadily to his feet. He’d been in worse spots before. A temporary hiding place would do and he’d wait for his team to return for him. Likely, Torkel would send another from the Unit.
“Well, well, well. What do we have?” The question dripped with unmistakable pleasure
Jaron turned, but his leg buckled, dropping him to one knee. Standing over him was none other than The Collector. Empty eyes glittered down into his. His heart sped up. “Dr. Kirkem.”
“Jutak warrior.” The Collector stepped on Jaron’s comm laying on the ground, which crackled and crunched beneath his booted foot. The destroyed device was his only contact with the teams.
Jaron let a sneer play about his mouth. He still had his tracker on his collar. “That won’t stop my Unit Leader.”
“Then he can join my collection too. I’m not feeling overly fond of Marenians right now.” A smug grin twisted the narrow lips. “For obvious reasons.”