Colliding Worlds Trilogy 03 - Explosion (11 page)

The soldier raised his rifle, and Jax lifted his M9. The man was too far away to get a body shot with a handgun, but Jax pinched off three shots anyway. The soldier never moved except to return fire. There were several pops. Something punched Jax in the gut, and a sharp sting knocked his right leg out from under him. He went down hard, but was more surprised that he hadn’t gone for the kill shot. Jax had trained him better than that.

He raised his M9 to fire again, but a second soldier crashed through the stalks next to him, and the dark blur of a rifle butt came down on his head. He collapsed on his back, his world a dark and swirling mess. He felt the gun yanked from his hand. “Don’t move, Captain.”

The sting in his leg was quickly becoming a sharp burn, but that wasn’t the only place he hurt. He touched his stomach and felt wetness.
Gut shot.
That was the nasty trick with adrenaline. A guy didn’t realize he was fucked until it was too late. He grimaced as he stared up the barrel of an M16.

The rustling of leaves surrounded him, and he realized the rest of the company was closing in. Rifle fire erupted several feet to his left.

Several dark objects lobbed through his line of vision. “Shock grenade! Fly, Tal — ” he yelled out, only someone stepped on his chest, cutting off his air as well as any ability to speak
. Fly,
he tried to scream again.

Off to his right, the air exploded with reverberating booms when the grenades exploded. The plants around him rustled to the vibrations.

Someone shouted commands, and many of the troops disappeared to the south. Only two remained. The boot left his chest and he wheezed, sucking in fresh air.

His best friend came down on a knee. “Damn it, Jax,” Ace said, grimacing as he scanned his friend’s battered body. He pulled out a field dress kit, and lifted Jax’s T-shirt. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t … stay away,” Jax replied, coughing as his air supply returned.

“Christ, you look like shit.”

Jax winced as Ace slapped the dressing on his stomach wound. “You always say — ”
grunt
“ — the sweetest things.”

Ace reached out a hand. “Give me your kit, Moss.”

Corporal Moss, who’d served under Jax until two days ago, dug into his pocket and slapped a small package in Ace’s palm. The soldier continued to hold his rifle at Jax, and Jax barked at him. Moss jumped and both Jax and Ace chuckled.

Jax heard fabric rip and looked down to watch Ace patch his leg. “Who shot me?” he muttered.

“Gabe, I think,” Ace replied.

Jax scowled, holding his hand to his stomach. “I’m going to kick his ass.”

Ace smirked but quickly sobered. He got in close. “Whose side are you on, Jax?”

His response was immediate, no doubt of any kind. “Our side. Just like always.”

Ace patted Jax’s shoulder. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He came to his feet. “Stand down, Moss. Captain Jerrick isn’t part of our directive.”

Moss wavered but didn’t lower his M16. He was the youngest and one of the newest members in Jax’s company. A regular straight-shooter. Reminded Jax of what he’d been like when he first enlisted. All piss and vinegar. “But sir, the directive states that anyone aiding or abetting a dragon or goldie — ”

“I said, stand down, corporal. That’s an order.”

Moss hesitated before slowly lowering his weapon.

Something blotted out the sun, and Jax looked up to find a Draeken transporter hovering above his position. He chuckled.
Too damn late.

“Looks like the calvary’s here.” Ace waved the transporter down. “They’ll get you patched up, brother.”

As the transporter descended, rifle shots came from a half dozen guns off to Jax’s right. Bullets ricocheted off the ship with sparks. Moss got antsy. “This ain’t right, Captain. They’re the enemy.”

“You want Jerrick to die, you dumb shit? They can help him. Now,
stand down.
”

Moss’s eyes flitted from the transporter to Jax to Ace. If it had been anyone else on Jax’s team, he would’ve obeyed without question, but Moss was the new guy. That special bond of brotherhood hadn’t been formed yet. Moss pulled up his M16, this time aiming it point-blank at Ace. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir.”

Ace didn’t look scared. He looked pissed off. “What, Moss? You going to shoot me now?”

Moss’s hesitation cost him. Jax grabbed the corporal’s ankle and yanked. Moss flew backward, pinching off several shots on his way down.

“Motherfucker!” Ace shouted.

More shots were fired, this time from Ace’s direction, and the corporal lay motionless on the ground.

By now, the transporter had landed a couple dozen feet away from Ace and Jax. He turned to Ace. “Aw, hell.”

His friend was holding his chest, a clean shot through his lung.

“Well, doesn’t this suck,” Ace said with a small trail of blood down the corner of his mouth. He fell forward, and Jax caught him. Pulling himself up with his good leg, he heaved Ace around his shoulders and trudged toward the vessel.

The ship opened suppression fire in a wide arc as its door opened. The sounds of gunfire lessened but still continued. He could hear yelling and screams not too far away. Jax screamed for them to stop, but his shout was swallowed by the transporter’s blasters. These were his men being chopped down. He’d stood at these men’s sides in battle, only to abandon them now to slaughter. “No!” he yelled.

Two Draeken ran out, each holding a full-length clear shield against the incoming rifle fire. When they reached Jax, the first one asked, “Is one of you Captain Jackson Jerrick?”

Jax limply raised a hand.

Both Draeken were at least a half foot taller than Jax. One relieved him of Ace while the other dragged him toward the ship still laying cover fire in the direction of the car.

Jax grabbed onto his rescuer’s uniform. “Talla’s still out there!”

“We know,” the man carrying him said. “We’re picking her up, too.”

The moment they carried him inside the door, he was dropped on the floor next to Ace, and the two Draeken left the transporter again. Glancing around, he found only the pilot remained, who was focused on whatever lay outside the windshield. “Move quickly,” he commanded into his wrist-com.

Jax rolled Ace onto his back. With a collapsed lung, he had minutes of air if he was lucky. Without a spare field kit, he pressed his palm against the wound to staunch the blood flow. “Stay with me, Ace,” he said to the unconscious man on the floor.

The echoes of gunfire faded, and Jax suspected that every man that he’d been proud to call a brother now lay bleeding or dead in a cornfield. These were men he’d trained and worked with, many for years. Several of them he called friend. A cold stone lodged in his heart. He was the reason they were being killed. He’d slaughtered his own men. Who else would die if he continued down this path?

A Draeken lunged into the transporter, and Jax startled. The second was right behind, carrying Talla. The door shut and the guardsman set her down on the floor before hopping over and to the front of the cramped ship.

He wanted to let go of Ace and grab Talla, but she was at least conscious. Bloody and disoriented but conscious while Ace needed every extra second that Jax could buy.

“Talla?” he asked.

She winced and turned her head. Her eyes blinked open and she smiled. “Hey.”

“You okay?” he asked roughly.

“Just a hard landing from those shock grenades. They’re a lot like chaos-charges.” She scrutinized him and her eyes widened. She lurched forward. “You’re shot.”

He shrugged. “If your medical technology is as good as you say, I’ll be better in no time,” he said, not believing himself for a minute. He’d seen gut wounds before. They rarely had a happy ending. He sobered. “But Ace is going to need help fast.” He turned to the pilot. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

She looked over at Ace and nodded tightly. Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry, Jax, but I think he’s already gone.”

Talla left Jax’s side only to clean up and to have her body repaired. They’d even injected her atrophied wings with muscle enhancers. With every flex of her long wings, she could feel invigorating strength returning.

When she’d returned to Jax’s bed, she found him on his back, naked except for his dog tags and a gray blanket covering his hips. She set down the bundle she’d been carrying and stepped closer to the unconscious soldier. He’d wake soon. On the transporter, he’d started screaming about saving Ace and his team, and so they’d been forced to sedate him so he wouldn’t make his injuries worse.

Now, skin patches had grown completely over his leg and stomach wounds, leaving fresh pink skin and no scars. Their DNA was so similar that Draeken medicine worked perfectly on human anatomy without any kind of adjustment needed, though it was obvious Jax hadn’t had access to her people’s medicine for much of his life. Scars littered his arms and chest. Many were small, a slice here and a puncture there. She ran a finger across an exception — a four-inch scar on his shoulder and wondered what blade caused that wound.

His skin was warm. She craved to kiss the scar. The muscles tensed beneath her fingers, and she startled, finding brown eyes watching her. She took a step back. “You’re awake.”

Jax watched her for another moment before glancing down at his stomach. He frowned. “How long have I been out?” he asked, his voice a rough rasp.

She looked at her wrist-com. “A little over four hours. It is night now.”

“Four hours?” He dropped his head back onto the body-conforming bed. “Damn.” After a moment, he looked up. “Draeken medicine is impressive. I don’t feel anything more than a dull cramping in my stomach and leg.”

“That will continue for another day or so until your body is fully repaired,” Talla said. “Then you’ll get muscle spasms and you’ll notice weakness until you’re at full strength. That is all a normal part of recovery.”

He looked around the room, and Talla wondered what he saw. After all, this was Med. Everything was clinical with little comforts on display. Shades of gray and streamlined metals, conveying a strange beauty in its stark modernism.

“Christ, Earth really is in the dark ages. Your people offer so much, and all we did was spit in your face for it.”

“There’s still hope.”

He pulled himself into a sitting position with a nearly inaudible grunt, the blanket pooling around his hips, leaving his rippled torso on display. She found herself breathing heavier as he touched his stomach where he’d been shot. He glanced up, and she struggled to look disaffected. “After everything humans have done to you, why do you still want peace?”

So much honesty and pain in those eyes
. Bristling under his gaze, she stretched her wings before pulling them back. “I want a home. I’ve seen enough bloodshed to last a hundred lifetimes. All of my people have. On Earth, for the first time in our lives, we have a chance to put that behind us and start fresh. Who knows how long we’d have to travel to find another habitable planet. It could take years, even decades. We’re not going to easily give up a chance at a home here.”

“With Omega, this planet could be all yours anyway,” he said, coming to his feet.

He gripped the blanket in front of his groin, drawing Talla’s gaze in. The room suddenly grew hot, and she felt her cheeks burn. She snapped away and rushed to the table, picked up the clothing, and dropped the black pile onto the bed. She picked up a small gray bag from the top of the stack.

“These should fit. Draeken shirts wouldn’t fit you right, so I found you a Sephian shirt that should work. I checked your old boots for the right size. Anyway, this will hold up much better than what you had. And I brought you an orientation kit as well. We’ll go over it in a bit.” She lifted the bag in her hands. “Your new weapons have already been requisitioned. I’ll wait outside while you change,” she said in a rambling rush, before taking off for the door.

“It’s all right. I’m not shy.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing there with a smirk on his face.
An invitation or a jest?
Neither was common for him, either was cruel if he had no intention on following through. He turned around, and Talla had a full view of his naked, perfectly tight ass as he grabbed the clothing. A small gasp escaped her, and she spun on a heel and headed straight out of the room.

Once in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and sighed. Never in her life had she felt so off-balance. She’d thought being back on the
Striga
would make everything feel normal again. But she’d quickly realized familiarity had nothing to do with her emotions right now.

First, the last time she’d been on this ship, Laze had been with her. They’d always been inseparable. But she couldn’t dwell on that emptiness right now. Call it denial, but her heart just couldn’t take any kind of reminiscing at the moment.

Her plan was to keep too busy to think, but there was another emotion threatening to swallow her whole, an emotion that was much easier to focus on. And Jax Jerrick was to blame. She wanted to be with him constantly, yet whenever she felt like they were about to cross a line from casual to … something else, he froze and bolted. Infatuation in itself was fine, but the intensity of this particular infatuation threw her off, especially when she suspected Jax would never let it go further.

Suddenly, Jax was standing next to her, and she jumped. “That was fast.” She looked him up and down. He looked
delicious.
Covered in black, the thinner material accentuated every muscle. His thick thighs begged to be straddled. His strong chest pleaded to be licked. “I see it fits,” she said instead, pressing the bag to his chest.

His fingers brushed against hers as he took the bag, and she fought back the shiver. “Your sanctuary is eight floors up.”

“Sanctuary?”

Talla thought through her English vocabulary for the right word. “Quarters? Residence? Yes, your new residence. They are designed for you to be as comfortable as possible, and you can make any changes you’d like to your own sanctuary.” An unbidden image of Jax lounging naked in his room flashed through her mind. “But first I need a drink,” she said quickly. “This way.”