Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (38 page)

"Just
us, Commander..." The husky, breathless, female voice in Paul's
headset
sounded familiar, even through the static and disturbance. He
couldn't quite discern who it was, but who gave a shit, help was
help. Paul shifted his position to venture a quick peek. "Stay
where you are Paul, we don't want to hit you." Another familiar
but indiscernible female voice.

Raulya,
Myomerr and a contingent of about fifteen of the Princess's
security
officers, had appeared inside on the loading ramps and raced across
the cruiser's cargo deck toward the Sweet Susie, firing as they ran.
Some had carbines, some had energy rifles confiscated from the
pirates. Paul could not remember seeing a sweeter sight, he could
almost hear the bugles and imagine them on horseback as cavalry
officers. Shooting from the hip as they ran at close to full stride,
Paul was amazed at their remarkable accuracy. He kept his head down
just the same.

As
they passed through the thirty-plus prisoners, several foolishly
rose
to confront the officers. Snarling, Raulya and Myomerr slashed and
hacked with the butts of their weapons, viciously repelling the
crewmen without slowing or breaking stride. Excited by the sound of
breaking bone and the smell of blood, the two Ketarians howled their
savage war cry as they advanced, firing relentlessly at the
retreating pirate soldiers.

Completely
unnerved by Paul's sudden reinforcements and their
fearless,
ruthless, counter attack, the pirates' offensive crumbled. They laid
down their weapons and surrendered after losing well over half their
men in the attack against the Sweet Susie.

■ ■ ■

Ragnaar
sat with his back against the storage crates where he had
found
Deeter lying in a pool of blood. He cradled the lifeless body of his
friend in hulking arms, but with a tenderness his generous size
didn't belay. He spoke softly to the fallen soldier. "You died
well, my brother. We can all be proud..." He pinched the bridge
of his nose to block the tears he had never shed for other lost
comrades. "They must truly be the demons of Hellion," he
continued, "for we have lost..." He thought briefly, but
decided no others could have beaten them. He shook his head, "No,
no one else could have done this. I fear for my soul, my friend."
He was a pirate, but he was not a man without beliefs. "So as
long as you're there, put in a favorable word for me with the good
Lords of Heavenite..."

Pappy,
accompanied by Maria, knelt next to his wingman. Together,
they
grimaced as they looked at the young pilot's charred tunic, fused to
the skin all along the right side of his torso. Pappy leaned close
to listen for a heartbeat, though he hadn't much hope. Realizing
something was jabbing him in the stomach, Paul looked down to see
the muzzle of a Beretta 9mm pushing against him. It was firmly held
in Mike's right hand, his index finger on the trigger.

"Izat
you, Pappy...?" Mike's voice was soft but steady. One eye
opened
weakly, trying to see through the haze of a mild concussion.

Paul
grinned widely. "Yeah, it's me, kid..."

"Me
too," added Maria, with tears in her eyes.

"Oh
good," Mike's hand dropped to the deck, still holding the
Beretta.
"Didn't
think I could pull the trigger anyway..."

"You
did good, kid."

"Really?"
Paul nodded. "Thanks." Mike smiled weakly, his speech
was
slow and a bit slurred. "Could only play possum after that tire
went boom. Figured to blow the nuts off the first guy who came to
finish me..."

Paul
put his hand on Mike's shoulder, "You did just fine. Now shut
your
yap and relax. The medics are on their way."

Maria's
pendant, the Teardrop Crystal of Rhomm, had slipped from
the
neckline of her tunic and swayed gently above Mike Warren's pained
form as she leaned over him. It looked almost fluid, like a fresh
drop of rain clinging to the gold chain around her neck. Mike,
fixing his eyes on it, had a sudden desire for water. "Christ,
I'm thirsty." He swallowed dryly. "Got anything to drink?"

There
was, of course, nothing available. And as Paul and Maria looked
at
each other in silent search of an answer Paul's eyes widened. Maria
raised one eyebrow. "What...?"

Paul
pointed to the pendant which had begun weeping moisture in
slow,
steady, sparkling drops. "It's leaking..."

Maria
looked. "It's not leaking," she said in astonishment,
"it's
weeping!"

"Weeping,
leaking," said Paul. "What the hell's the difference? It's
dribbling
all over the place!"

Mike
could feel the drops hitting his neck. "Get some in my mouth
why
doncha..." he mumbled.

Paul
was getting impatient, "Where the
HELL
are those medics? The
kid's
having a hard time breathing..." He unbuttoned his wingman's
tunic to make him more comfortable.

Maria
touched the wet crystal to her tongue before Paul could object
and
smacked her lips in contemplation. "That was pretty stupid,"
said Paul crisply, "What if it's poisonous?"

Maria
smiled coyly and making a face, stuck out her tongue. Woman's
intuition
told her it wasn't, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of
admitting he could be right. Something told her the crystal was
sympathetically reading her needs somehow and was trying to provide
for that need, although she had no idea how that could be
possible... After all, it was just a crystal. Wasn't it?

The
crystal's moisture was cool and smooth. It slickly coated
Maria's
mouth like a light oil, but it had a wondrous sweet-tart flavor that
made her mouth water. She smiled at Paul, her mouth tingling from
top to bottom. Paul raised one eyebrow, "Well?"

"Yeah,"
rasped Mike, "well?"

Maria
held the crystal over Mike's mouth, "It's safe."

The
droplets splashed across Mike's outstretched tongue and Maria
wiped
the crystal across his lips. "Mmmmmmm," grinned Mike,
closing his eyes. "That's great." Suddenly he inhaled
sharply and deeply, his eyes open wide and his body rigid, back
arched.

“
Jesus!"
shouted Paul as he grabbed Mike by the shoulders to hold
him
down.

"I,
I, I don't understand..." stammered Maria, stunned.

But
it passed as quickly as it came. The young pilot's body relaxed
and
his breathing became regular and with greater ease. He closed his
eyes and appeared to slip into a comfortable state of sleep.

Paul
scratched his head. "What the hell... lemme see that." He
touched
the crystal and sucked the wetness off his finger. Smacking his lips
speculatively, he was pleased by the initial sensations. He was very
suddenly aware of a strange sensation sweeping across his body. It
took his breath away momentarily, but was pleasing just the same. It
wasn't long though, before he realized the ankle he'd injured
tumbling off the wing of the B25, no longer pained him. Paul came to
the realization that this must have been what Mike felt. It must
contain some kind of drug, and since Maria had no injuries, she had
not felt the same sensations over her body, just the initial
reaction. Paul shook his head. He felt no pain and was no longer
thirsty, "Amazing..." It was all he could think of to say.

The
messenger trotted to a stop under the wing of the Sweet Susie.
"Need
to let you know sir," he puffed, "all wounded have to be
moved out to the Princess's landing pad near the flight tower."

"Why
so far?" asked Paul.

The
young messenger shrugged. "Dunno' sir, it's just where they're
moving
everybody." He turned to leave.

"Hey!"
shouted Maria, "why couldn't they tell us that over the com
half
an hour ago?!"

"Some
of the comlinks are damaged," he explained. "About a third
of
the
grid is off line. You must be in a dead spot." He trotted off
in the direction he came.

"Shit,"
muttered Paul, "I can't carry him, my ankle's too weak."

Ragnaar
dropped to one knee and gently laid the lifeless body of his
best
friend in the row with the rest of his fallen comrades, near the
port side of the B25. "I will carry him..." he said over
his shoulder, without turning around.

Paul
turned and eyed him suspiciously. "How do I know I can trust
you?"

Ragnaar
rose and unfolded his six and a half foot herculean frame.
"The
battle is over," he said, gazing at the row of casualties
spread before him. He motioned to the bodies with a wave of his
hand. "The dead are gone..." he added, turning to meet
Paul's gaze, "and it is time to tend to the needs of the
living."

"You
hurt him and I'll kill you," said Maria, matter-of-factly.

"I
don't doubt it," said the pirate casually, meeting her gaze,
"but
like
I said, the battle is over. Besides, I don't kill helpless men."

"That's
not what I've heard," growled Maria sarcastically.

Ragnaar
ignoring the comment, walked past her over to where Mike
lay,
and knelt beside him. Placing one hand on Mike's chest and the other
on his forehead, Ragnaar closed his eyes. "He is your best
friend..."

"Yes,"
confirmed Paul.

"I
understand your concern," said the pirate, gently smoothing
Mike's
hair, "but he has the heart of a Cerulian Lion. He will not
die."

"And,
just how do you know that?" asked Maria venomously.

Ragnaar
smiled. "Because, Miss Arroyo, there are some things I just
know..."
Without looking up into her stunned face, Ragnaar gently scooped
Mike's limp body up off the deck with little apparent effort and
cradled him carefully. "Ready, Commander? I believe your friend
is in need of some attention."

The
men exchanged smiles. It wasn't often Paul saw Maria at a loss
for
words. He had a feeling Ragnaar knew that too. The odd trio walked
toward the ramps in silence, Maria trailing behind and Paul hobbling
like mad to keep up with the pirate's long, easy strides.

Ragnaar
shook his head, "I'll never understand a race that lets
their
women fight..." he said quietly. His eyes twinkled with
mischief.

Strangely
enough, Paul found the pirate genuinely likeable. "Well,
it
sure wasn't
my
idea..." he countered, smirking.

Ragnaar
laughed a laugh befitting his size. "Well," he said after
gaining
his composure, "you sure don't look like the demons of
Hellion."

Paul
looked up at him. "Huh?"

The
pirate shook his head, "Oh, nothing, Commander." He smiled
to
himself
about his private joke. He wished Deeter had been there to share it
with him.