He sat up straight, all signs of the caring brother gone. He was now the Taurean intelligence officer, eyes focused intently on her. “Where? When?”
“It was the first night after we crashed in the pod.”
“That makes no sense,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“I know. We were in a motel, and it just flew over. But the weirdest thing was the resistance fighters who grabbed Domik—” She swallowed, feeling sick as she remembered those harrowing hours being separated from him and not knowing if he was dead or alive.
“Go on.” Oren encouraged, his voice gentle.
“The resistance fighters acted like they expected the Xakul fighter to be there. They weren’t bothered by it, and it didn’t attack them.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
So she went over everything that had happened since the pod crash-landed. Well, maybe not quite everything. There were some secrets that she didn’t want to spill.
Oren rested his elbows on his knees as she spoke. His head dropped forward as he listened. Occasionally, he asked her to clarify something, but mostly he just nodded in silence.
“I need to take this to my superiors in intelligence,” he said when she was done.
CJ stood. “What can I do?”
“Stay with him until he wakes. Make yourself useful with the wounded. When he comes to, we’ll need him doing what he does best.”
“And what’s that?” CJ couldn’t help but ask.
Oren smiled ferally. “Killing Xakul.” Then he turned and left the tent.
She stood and, with a last glance to make sure the Domik was comfortable, headed to where Amelia was treating a patient with a bandaged arm.
As the morning progressed, the tent heated, and soon CJ was stripped to her tank top. She lost count of how many patients she tended. She had learnt the more serious injuries had been evacuated by air; the Taureans having been able to mobilize some shuttles and send help to the Space Force bases that had been attacked by the Xakul.
She would check on Domik between patients, making sure he was still comfortable and resting. She knew he would need a fair amount of sleep even after the use of the medi-wand, particularly because his wounds had been so many.
It was toward midday when the wail of a klaxon started, sending a chill through her. She turned to find Domik pushing off the stretcher, and she raced toward him.
“You can’t!” she cried; eyes wide.
“I have to,” he said, sitting on the edge of the stretcher. He lifted a hand to her cheek, cupping it and stoking his thumb gently over her skin.
CJ swallowed and nodded. “Promise you’ll come back to me?”
Domik stood bare-chested, his head touching the roof of the tent, but he didn’t answer her. Choking back a sob, she watched him leave without looking back.
