Taken (Calliston Series - Book 1) (7 page)

He did as ordered. "It's a skin grafter," he explained. "You use it to fuse skin together to close a wound."

"Can it be used on internal organs?"

He shrugged. "I suppose, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Is there anything here that could be used instead?" she asked. When he shook his head, she said, "Then it will have to do for now. A proper physician can attend to her later."

The medic didn't argue. He seemed happier now that someone else had taken responsibility. No one wanted to be known as the man who killed the second-most important person on the ship, or the colonel's "secret" girlfriend.

* * *

"So how long?" Viktor asked as they carefully placed the torpedoes on the far side of the enemy ship. They hoped that one of them was near the ship's faster-than-light engines. They also hoped that the torpedoes wouldn't float away between now and when they detonated.

"I don't know," Roger admitted. "I lost count."

"Shit," said Viktor. "Then guess."

Roger looked back the way they had come. "Five minutes," he finally decided, and keyed in the required information.

"You're sure?" Viktor asked, but did just as Roger had shown him.

"No."

"Roger!" Viktor growled. "Not helping.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Roger.

"When this is over, I'm gonna find another drinking buddy," Viktor grumbled.

Roger's finger hovered over the activation key. "Now," he said, and pushed it.

Viktor pushed his torpedo's key a microsecond after. "Let's get out of here," he said, and started to pull himself back across the ship.

They were two minutes away when the ship shook beneath their grasp. Viktor gripped on to the strange hull and waited for the bucking to stop.

"You all right?" Roger asked.

"I don't need to go to the bathroom anymore," Viktor said. He glanced behind him to Roger and swore.

"What?"

"One of the torpedoes. The ship must have hit it," said Viktor.

"Damnit," said Roger. They watched as the torpedo slowly moved away from the ship.

"Will that still work?" Viktor asked.

"I got it," Roger said, and turned back.

"What are you doing?" Viktor demanded.

"Getting it back," said Roger. "You keep going."

"The hell I will."

"You will," Roger told him. "That's an order, Vik."

"I'm not one of your crew," Viktor said as he turned and followed Roger.

"Dammit, Vik. I don't want you to die out here because of me," said Roger. "I signed on for this. This is my responsibility. Yours is to bring peace to this area of space."

"I can't do that if Martha kills me."

Roger stopped and sighed. "All right, Vik—let's negotiate. Either you go back and I do this or we both stay here."

Viktor raised a startled eyebrow. If they stayed put, they would both die. The torpedo would be farther away and potentially less effective, and those on Callisto would probably all die horribly at the hands of the Orka. If he left, then Roger might have time to retrieve the errant torpedo and increase the odds of destroying the enemy vessel. Roger, however, would probably be dead, and there was still a slim chance everyone else would perish anyway.

"The sooner you leave, Vik, the more time I have to do this and get back," Roger said.

"Go," Viktor told him. Now was not the time to be selfish. "Go!"

Viktor made it back to Callisto's hull. The magnetic lock on his boots fixed him in place. He was halfway across when he turned around to look for Roger. It was at the same moment the torpedoes detonated.

"Roger!"

* * *

"Roger," Martha whimpered.

S'rea nodded to the medic. "More anesthetic," she ordered while she finished sealing the tear to Martha's intestines.

He topped up the injector and administered another small dose, then returned to the handheld scanner. "I think that's it," he said after a moment.

"Let me see," S'rea said, and studied the readout. "It appears so. Find something to give her for infections. This is not a sterile environment."

"Yes, doctor," the medic said out of habit. "Sorry," he apologized into his medkit.

S'rea didn't bother to correct him. She was not a doctor. She was a scientist. One who had spent the past week studying everything she could about the U-mans, including their anatomy.

She sat back on the deck and stretched her leg out carefully in front of her. Viktor had tied the bandage tightly around her thigh, cutting off most of the blood flow through the severed artery. Now that she wasn't focused so intently on Martha, she noticed the lightheadedness and other signs that she should be worried about.

S'rea had very little time to worry about her own condition. This time, when the ship shook, she fell forward and protected Martha's body with her own. The explosion was powerful enough to rain dust and debris down upon them. Those who were still on the bridge were tossed around, and S'rea did her best to cushion Martha so as not to rip apart what had just been repaired.

When the violence of the event ceased, S'rea's only thoughts were of her father—and of the U-man she had threatened to kill if he did not make it back to her.

* * *

Viktor was crouched on the outside of the Callisto. Even at this distance, he had been able to feel the force of the dual explosions, and debris had been flung past him. "Roger," he said again as he watched helplessly.

"If you're gonna start crying, Vik, I'm gonna cut the transmission," a familiar voice told him cheekily.

"Roger?" He looked around wildly, trying to locate his friend.

"Look behind you."

Viktor stood and looked out into space. There, not too far away, was what looked like a form in an EV suit. Whatever it was, it was growing smaller as it moved farther and farther away. "What happened?"
 

"Ran out of time," Roger said. "I pushed off. The explosion propelled me faster."

Viktor laughed. "You lucky son of a bitch."

"Not so lucky," Roger said. The sound of his voice grew fainter and disrupted. "Better get help…transmission…of reach."

"Don't worry, Roger, I'll get help," Viktor said, and set about returning to the airlock. There was no response from Roger, but that didn't surprise him, just spurred him on. It only took him a few minutes to reach the airlock, but once there he was unable to operate the seal. It required main power.

Viktor banged his gloved fist against the outside of the airlock. It was a futile attempt to get Tarn's attention, and was so far not working. Even if it did, how would the Lyrissian restore main power to Callisto? That would require him to fight his way through the Orka and wrest control back from those who had betrayed him.

Viktor was too caught up in his frustration of the situation, with Roger still being alive but lost in space, that he didn't notice the outer door seal behind him and the airlock start to sequence open. His fist almost connected with Tarn's beaming face before reality set in.

Two corporals rushed past the Lyrissian and helped Viktor with his helmet and out of the suit. They looked at him expectantly as he gasped for ship air.

"He's alive," he managed. "Flying off in that direction, though."

The corporals looked in the direction Viktor pointed and then at each other. "Thank you, sir. We'll take it from here," one of them said before they sprinted up the corridor and left him alone with Tarn.

"What happened?" Viktor asked.

Tarn shrugged. "I joined the U-mans in reclaiming their ship."

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
 

Tarn nodded.

Viktor decided there was more to it than that, but decided not to ask. He was more concerned with getting Roger back and how Martha and S'rea were. "We should get back to the bridge."

"Yes," Tarn said, and escorted him there.

* * *

Viktor and Tarn were redirected to an overcrowded medbay. They were informed that Martha was refusing to be operated on until either Roger was presented to her in person or Viktor's dead body was laid before her. Instead, Viktor presented his live body to her and filled her in on what had happened. The moment he was finished, she dismissed him so she could discuss the situation with those on the bridge.

Viktor's hand injury was not considered a priority compared with others already in medbay. So he waited with Tarn for S'rea to be released from the operating room. Tarn was in the process of donating blood for his daughter when Viktor collapsed into the chair next to him.

"She okay?" he asked.

Tarn nodded. "They tell me she would not be alive if you had not tied her leg. Thank you."

Viktor shrugged it off. "She would have done the same."

Tarn just stared at him.

"Wouldn't she?"

"They also tell me she saved the Martha female," Tarn said.

"Good," said Viktor. "Roger will be grateful. When he gets back."

Tarn smiled. It was the smile of a proud father.

* * *

"She looks so peaceful," Viktor murmured.

"They all do when they sleep," said Tarn. "Daughters."

S'rea could feel the gentle touch of a hand against her cheek as she slowly regained consciousness. It was so very warm and comforting.

"I'll leave you two alone," Viktor said, and bade goodbye to Tarn.

When S'rea opened her eyes, her father wasn't at her bedside. She frowned and cast her eyes about the small room for him. He was seated in the far corner, smiling at her.

"You have the U-man to thank for your life," he said.

S'rea growled. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

For once Viktor didn't have to politely reject the charms of Bill, the medical chief who patched him up. Bill was too busy with a full medbay. The Orka boarding parties had killed six men and injured twenty-two.

"Have you seen Roger?" Viktor asked while Bill fused the skin back together on his hand.

"He's fine. A few bruises. He's in with Martha at the moment," Bill said, then checked his handiwork and dismissed Viktor so he could set a corporal's broken arm.

Viktor clenched his hand into a fist a couple of times. The skin held tight, but was still a bit tender. He headed for the private medical suites to check on Roger and Martha, but instead he found himself entering S'rea's room. Viktor stopped when he realized she was alone.

S'rea looked up and studied him for a moment. "Come in," she finally said, and put aside the tablet she had been reading.

"What are you reading?" Viktor asked after seating himself beside her bed.

"U-man psychology. I am trying to understand why U-mans behave the way they do."

Viktor smiled. "Any luck?"
 

She shook her head. "No."

"Maybe I can help," he said. "Anything in particular you want to know?"

S'rea pursed her lips. "The colonel is visiting his second-in-command of this vessel, Martha. She yelled at him for several minutes. He did not respond at all. Since then, there has been no verbal communication. Just an irregular series of strange noises."

"Strange noises?"

"Yes. I can still hear them."

Viktor cocked his head to listen. He couldn't hear anything. "You have excellent hearing."

"You have inferior auditory perception," she replied.

"Of course," he said. "Well, I can guess what happened. Martha was worried about Roger and let him know about it, loudly. Roger is probably begging forgiveness."

S'rea frowned. "How does one beg forgiveness without speaking?"

"A lot of ways," said Viktor. "Kissing comes to mind."

"Kissing?"

"Ah." Viktor ran a hand through his shaggy hair while he tried to find the best way to describe the activity. "Pre-mating ritual that requires a lot of mouth-pressed-against-mouth action. Tongues are involved as well." S'rea looked appalled, and he laughed. "It's better than it sounds, trust me," Viktor said. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he coughed.

"I will have to take your word for it," she replied. "U-man procreation seems unnecessarily complicated."

"I like it."

"You are male."

"Yes, yes I am," he said, and decided to change the topic. "I heard you operated on Martha."

S'rea nodded.

"I know you're a scientist, but what exactly is your area of expertise?" he asked.

"Everything."

"Of course," he said. "That explains it."

"Explains what?"
 

"Why you're so arrogant," he said, and got to his feet. "We're two days from Lyrissia. I'll see you and your father then."

Viktor walked through medbay, followed by the guttural sounds of Lyrissian cursing. He ignored the questioning looks from those he passed, intent only on the exit.

* * *

Two days later, S'rea watched her father talk with the U-man colonel. It seemed the two had bonded during battle, and her father was trying to make him accept one of his weapons. Finally, with urging from the peacetalker, the colonel graciously accepted the gift. The trio laughed when the colonel offered her father the peacetalker in exchange.

"Men," Martha muttered, and rolled her eyes.

"Males," S'rea agreed.

After a few moments silently watching the men in question slap each other on their backs, Martha said, "I wanted to thank you for what you did. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you."

"The medic lacked the confidence," S'rea said. "I did not have the same pressure that he felt due to his standing in your ranking structure."

Martha stared at her and then burst out laughing. "Ow, ow," she complained, and clutched her lower abdomen. The movement caught the attention of Roger, who immediately rushed to her side.

"The doctor said to not exert yourself," he said. "Now get back to my bed."

"Aye aye, sir," she said with a mischievous grin. To S'rea, she said, "Thank you and good luck. You'll need it."

S'rea frowned as the colonel assisted Martha away. She was still able to hear their conversation.

"You're wishing the wrong one luck," said Roger. "She'll probably break him."

"He's a big boy," said Martha. "She can't do any worse to him than what Cynthia did."