Zac closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “That’s not ideal either. We both need to go. I’ll come at them from the front to distract them. You flank them and hit them from the side.”
Oren’s steady gaze met his, and he nodded in agreement.
Opening her eyes, Laila sought Zac's green gaze. “Be quick. But leave me my gun.”
Another plasma charge decided things for all of them.
“Don’t move, ok?” With a nod to Oren they moved away, quickly and silently.
Zac lost sight of Oren as he disappeared into the gloom. He dashed from boulder to boulder, plasma charges firing over his head.
Either these Xakul were purposely trying to miss him, or they were woefully inexperienced. As he came closer to the trench where the firing originated, the dust eased, allowing Zac a glimpse of the enemy. Juveniles.
For a second, he felt a little sympathy for the young soldiers who had been left behind to figure things out for themselves, until he saw that next to the Xakul on the gun, another was lazing next to him eating what had to be a leg of one of Elthea’s humanoid inhabitants.
Shaking his head, Zac lifted his plasma rifle and stepped out of the safety of the boulder, quickly squeezing off a shot aimed at the Xakul manning the gun. He watched as the figure slid sideways, limp and lifeless. Then Oren leaped into the trench from behind, sliding his knife into the neck of the second Xakul. It gurgled and slid to the ground. Dead.
Not thinking about what he had done, Zac sprinted to the trench, dropping next to Oren. He quickly placed a small charge in the barrel of their large plasma gun, as they leaped from the trench together and raced back to Laila.
Zac slid along the ground with a spray of dirt and rocks, landing next to her with a thump. Pulling her close, he covered her helmet-clad head with his arms. She moved as if trying to put some space between them, and he tightened his arms around her.
“Hold still!” He ordered.
The noise of the explosion sounded frighteningly loud in the quiet of the night. The trench was now ablaze, standing out like a beacon in the night.
“Now we really have to get out of here,” he glanced at her leg. “Can you move?”
Laila attempted to stand, but her leg gave out from under her and she cried out, Zac catching her under the arms to prevent her from falling any further.
“I'll take that as a no.”
Zac picked her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said as she looped her arms around his neck and settled against him.
“I’ll take the packs.” Oren shouldered their gear and, making a snap decision, marched away from the fire towards what looked like a clump of trees.
With great care, Zac followed Oren into the darkness. The copse of trees wasn't ideal. The trees were scraggly and low, more like bushes, but there was a partially demolished, tiny stone building nearby. It would provide cover while they waited to hear from T’arq.
Reaching the trees, Oren dropped their packs at the entrance to the building before moving inside. He reappeared quickly. “It’s just one room, and it’s clear,” he said, gesturing for them to enter.
Sighing with relief, Zac moved inside and, finding a low bench pushed against a wall, eased Laila down until she was sitting with her back against it.
Zac reached for his pack and pulled out the medical kit. “How's the leg?”
“It's ok,” she said, but he didn't believe her. She looked pale, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat, but bore the pain stoically.
“I’m going to check you over, alright?”
She nodded, breath coming in short pants.
“I'm sorry,Iriska, I'll make this as pain free as possible.”
He checked the leg, which was still bleeding, though not as badly as it had been. He looked up at her, “The leg first, ok?”
She nodded, and his quick fingers quickly pulled the field medical scanner from the first aid kit, waving it over the wound. The bleeding eased enough so that Zac could dress the wound with a large bandage.
Easing her upright, he gently removed her shirt, leaving her in her blood-soaked tank top. Her indrawn breath let him know she was still in pain when his fingers ran over her shoulder. There was a deep laceration to her arm above the elbow, which extended to her upper back, the flesh jagged and singed—typical of a plasma burn.
“How did this happen?” He asked, running the same medical scanner over the wound.
