Page 26 of Command

The brother looked like he knew what he was doing as he picked equipment from the pack.

Of course, they must have had similar stuff on theElysian. They would be at least a little familiar.

The uhyre extracted a cauterizer from the kit, testing the trigger to evoke a dry sizzle.

“The weapon,” he said without looking at her. “Is there a bullet? A blade?”

“No,” Alina said from her spot against the wall. “It’s a firedagger. Burns right through in a column. No trace except…”

“Except this shoqing hole,” the uhyre muttered. He ripped through his commander’s—his k’riar’s—shirt. It did not go easily, the thick black fabric protesting even the alien’s talons. It wasn’t a material she recognized, and the way it stretchedinstead of tearing until the last possible moment was unlike anything she’d seen in their normal clothes. Alina wondered how he got that washed.

Burning flesh, the smell and sound of it, twisted her stomach. She stared at her bloodstained hands and clothes, then the smears of it on the green rug and the tile underneath. She took shallow breaths, small as she could, anything to avoid breathing in that stench.

She failed. Alina fell forward and retched, adding to the mess on the floor. At least she managed to miss her carpet.

“Come.” The instruction barely broke through her ringing ears. Alina didn’t look or think as she crawled over to the red one, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. She stared at his blurry hands. They looked comically huge as he held a suturestick on one and a miniature cartridge of synthskin thread in the other. He fumbled as he attempted to operate the thing with those unsuitable paws. Alina tried to focus her vision on him—on the k’riar. She didn’t dare focus on Threxin… He was too pale, and his chest wasn’t moving.

“Do this.” The red one thrust the implements at her, and she took them mindlessly with clammy fingers. It took three attempts to load the cartridge, but finally it was done and Alina pitched forward to lean over the body.

The bleeding had eased as the meat beneath the skin had been cauterized, but the edges of the wound were still gaping open. The synthskin thread would be critical to close the wound for real and prevent infection. She’d have to touch the ripped skin to do it. Get a firm grip, pull the edges of it together… Alina swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t even feel her hands as they shook in front of her face, as if they weren’t her own. These were someone else’s hands, and she was only observing them from afar.

“Female,” the alien barked. “Do it.”

Her hand trembled over the ugly wound as she leaned closer. She wanted to throw up again. Shit, she might… She might right fuckingnow… She backed away a step, but collided with the wall of the alien behind her.

“If he dies, female, so will you. All of you.”

His hand on her back pushed her forward, back toward Threxin.

He sounded so calm—how did he do that?

Alina nodded, mostly to herself. She held the loaded suturestick in one hand and pinched the black-singed flesh with the other, pressing the edges together. The suturestick did the rest. All she had to do was indent the trigger and slowly run the thing along the edge right behind her thumb as she went. The thread shot through flesh with minor resistance, holding it in place in tight, closely spaced bands.

It took about a minute, but it felt like forever. When it was done, Alina leaned back on her heels. She wasn’t feeling sick anymore, at least.

“Will he… Can he live?” Alina asked, staring at the unconscious alien.

“You should hope he does.”

She nodded. She did hope so, even before the threat Threxin’s brother issued. The nameless k’riar. He’d mocked her for calling him “brother” before. She just did all this to keep hisbrotheralive, even though it was probably going to end up being a huge mistake. And now all she could feel was the embarrassment of screwing up in a language she didn’t even know. The least he could give her was a name.

“What are you called?” she asked.

She felt the weight of his predator eyes on her back. “You were deductive with his name. Do you not know?”

Alina looked at her hands in her lap. She should have known. She was sure Threxin would have said his brother’s name before. She racked her brain for a memory.

“Renza,” he finally said.

“You’re brothers?”

“Of a sort.”

That meant no. Made sense, since they looked nothing alike. Alina wondered what had brought them to such a close relationship.

“What was under the tarp?” She frowned, keeping her eyes on the sutured wound.

Renza was silent behind her, and she thought about asking again, but there was no need. She knew what those lumps had looked like. How many were there? Why?

---