7
He held the female Terran in his arms again, this time, she had passed out as she had started to climb back into her wrecked escape pod.
He had barely caught her in time, or she would have crashed into the ship’s hull and caused even more damage. The injury on her forehead was not healing yet. Humans were so slow to heal!
And regardless of her stubbornness, she was going to need medicinal assistance soon. This moon was not the environment to leave a wound open.
He brushed open the red cloak she wore. Heavy and ornate, it seemed wrong on such a fiery woman. Her temper was quite powerful for such a petite thing. Underneath, she wore a bodysuit, with a blade on her hip, and plenty of storage pockets.
The clothing that did little to hide the curves of her body. Such a contrast from a Rhimodian. He gazed at her for probably longer than he should have.
The blood on her brow jarred him from his stare. The first thing he needed to do was heal her.
He cradled her in one arm and held the other hand over her forehead.
“Scan,” he said.
The nanites in his gauntlet released a soft ray of green light that passed over her. At the start of the war, the Rhimodians imported all the biological data they could find about the Terrans into their systems to look for weaknesses in their physical makeup. Their cybernetic databases had information on Terrans, but he had limited time to use it. Healing her was a necessity. For he did not know what her placement or her importance in the peace talks.
He must make sure she survived. His protocol demanded he made certain she made it to the negotiations.
Aside from their smaller size, they were, in essence, a typical bipedal humanoid. Nothing particularly overwhelming in their genome. The race was determined and stubborn, this female was no different than any others he had encountered. Well, aside from her appealing form.
Even her hair was unique. Rows of ropes bound tightly to her scalp. In between the rows he saw her scalp, and fortunately the wound on her brow did not extend too far over her head.
The scans returned the full data of her health.
Brain damage from a temporary wound.
Bruising throughout the body.
Acute exhaustion.
Acute malnutrition.
Minor internal slices.
He scanned again. “Repair.”
More nanites, all microscopic in size, penetrated her skin, the ones inside charging and reprogramming to repair the down systems.
“Estimated time to repair.”
Four hours.
Wrathin nodded. He glanced up in the sky. The light would be fading soon. He glanced at Sol, the gas giant in the sky. It was getting fuller and closer, dominating the sky.
“Squad,” he said.
No response. Already, the moons were falling. The eclipse was coming soon. Three days of partial darkness and communication blackouts. Nothing could be done to prevent it. Even travel off the moons was limited.
The best option was to stay put. Hence the reason the Rhimodians wanted the negotiations for this week. The Terrans would be forced to reach a settlement with the Rhimodians, and not run away, declaring the Rhimodians unreasonable.
The shields were activated again to protect the Rhimodian worlds during the eclipse.
However, because of this attack, now Wrathin was alone on Sol-4 for the next few days.
With this Terran.
