Page 63 of Warrior
Daicon’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Hold on.”
I didn’t notice him move, but pulses of bright yellow light shot from the front of the ship, adhering to the dock door. There was a shimmer, like a pulse of lightning, and then the last obstacle to our freedom gave a shudder, reducing to rubble. A faint plop, plot plop echoed through the cockpit, the sound of rubble hitting the hull.
Another jerk and the ship shot through the opening. I gripped the armrest of the plushy co-pilot’s chair, expecting a blast of speed to shoot us into the stars. Instead, the ship hovered, turning to face the dock.
“What are you doing?” I glanced at Daicon. His mouth set in a hard line, and I thought I saw his hand tremble over the controls.
“The acidic atmosphere will kill anyone left alive.” He grunted.
Four more lightning balls shot from the nose of the ship, slamming into the rock face. A muted blast and seconds later, stone and sand tumbled, hiding the opening from sight. The ship spun again, blasting across the landscape, rising higher and higher until the orange atmosphere faded into black. The moon that was my prison slowly became a speck of dust in the starrysky.When the lights inside the shuttle flickered to brightness, the children cheered. Through the cheerful voices, I heard the plop, plop, plop again, fainter and spaced further apart. Space debris, maybe… or something wrong with the ship?
Worry surged, and I turned to Daicon, noticing him hunched forward, punching coordinates on the control panel. There was a weakness to his movements that seemed awkward.
“Daicon?”
The shoulders shifted uneasily, like the movement caused him pain. He turned his head, the tawny mane falling over his face—his pale face.
“You’re safe now.” His lips quirked, as though the effort to generate a smile was too much for him. “I set the autopilot to rendezvous with the Bardaga. You’ll be safe.”
“Daicon?” I stood, taking a step, my feet sliding on the slick floor, and placed a hand on his shoulder, expecting warmth. My palm felt nothing but a chill that settled around my heart.
His hand lifted toward me, the strain proving too much, and he slumped sideways. I squeaked in alarm, grabbing at him, the hand I slipped around his waist encountering hot wetness.
Oh God.
The children hadn’t spilled anything on the floor, but Daicon had. I stared at the ever-growing pool of his black life’s blood beneath my feet.
“Daicon!” The beautiful golden eyes rolled back into his head. His size proved too much for me, his body slipping from my grip. I screamed for George as Daicon slumped to the floor at my feet.
Chapter 16
Daisy
Dignified transfer.
The solemn procedure used when a fallen soldier’s body returns to his home base. This was the most heartbreaking of all the things I had to do as a minister's wife.
One of the most poignant services I attended was with a wife not much older than I’d been at the time. When she followed her husband's casket from the plane, her grace and strength struck me. Days later, after the funeral, I commented on her behavior and how she’d impressed me.
"His sacrifice deserved respect and strength," she'd told me. "I will not dishonor him by behaving any other way.”
I wanted to do the same for Daicon.
His hand was warm, skin still soft and supple under my stroking fingers. Behind me, the children's sobs softened with exhaustion.
I’d held his hand since we’d placed him on the bed in the ship's poor excuse for a med-bay. George did all he could with the handheld device, but by that time, over half of Daicon's blood lay on the ship's floor in thick, black puddles. The little healer wouldn’t say it, but I saw the helplessness in his dark eyes.
Daicon somehow managed to get a message to the Bardaga, and the ship set a course to intercept us as soon as possible, turning what might have been a voyage of a week or more into just three days.
It was still too long.
Too late.
I’d held Daicon’s hand as the last breath rattled from his body only an hour ago. An hour that I spent cursing this ship and the Bardaga for not moving fast enough. An hour I’d spend praying and bargaining and begging God not to take him from me.
When Gavin died, my stages of grief didn’t include denial. There was no time to consider it wasn't real. He was just gone, and I had to figure out how the church and I would move on.
With Daicon, even though my logical mind knew he’d passed, my heart wouldn’t accept it. I felt like there was a link between us, an unbreakable chain pulled taut as I tried to keep him from slipping away. When the chain finally broke….
