Terran Times 02 - Deal with a Dhemon (4 page)

Viola Grace

“The blaster impact did not go all the way through, but you’ll have limited use of the arm for several days. We’ve used the regenerator on you, but it has only replaced the torn tissue. You’ll have to relearn to use your arm.” He was matter of fact as he passed on the doctor’s diagnosis, then left to attend to another patient the doctor was prodding and clicking at.

Moran and Adal came into her view. Their faces were relieved, silver skin flushed with concern. The mottled purple under their jaw lines told Sam how worried they had been.

“Ok guys, what the hell happened?” She scooted up in the bed as best as she could. Not an easy task given that she had no strength in her left arm.

“You were shot.” Adal’s voice was close to tears. She took a shuddering breath and wiped at her nose, which had begun to run with emotion.

“It was an assassination attempt. The shooter struck while you were on stage, and hoped to kill you. Fortunately he failed.” Moran held his mate close to him and comforted her with a hand stroking down her back in an endless pattern.

“I know what happened to me. What happened to the shooter? Did someone see him?” With fumbling fingers she drew the medical gown close to her and started to ease her way off of the exam bed.

8

Deal with a Dhemon

“You could say that. The shooter is dead. He was an Enjel tracker.”

Oh, so that is what the Enjel had been doing there. “Dead? How?”

“Your new fans, the Rranik, became incensed when you were shot. They tore the tracker to pieces.” Moran did not seem too choked up about the death of the assailant. In fact he seemed pleased at the way things had turned out.

“Doctor. May I go?” She raised her voice to be heard over the noise of the bustling medical bay.

At the flapping of the appendage that passed for a hand and fingers, she hopped onto her feet and was grateful for the support of her friends as they helped her out of medical and to her rooms.

Her com unit was blinking when she was dropped off at her tiny apartment in the bipedal quarters.

“Great, the perfect capper to the perfect evening.” She reached over and triggered the communications link that would activate the call previously recorded.

A metallic voice sounded as an armored faceplate filled the screen. “Samantha Vorning.

Please contact me immediately. The matter is urgent. You are in danger. Again.” The screen went blank and Sam leaned back and sighed.

“No shit.” Grimacing at the numbness in her arm, she punched in the release codes to send the 9