Warrior's Valor (35 page)

The explosion began as a loud whirring sound, coming from deep inside the belly of the ship. She dropped the weapon and, pinned to the ground, saw the fuselage begin to crack. Before darkness descended upon her she saw the jagged edges of the crack in the fuselage separate in an explosion of blue-green flames.

*

Emeron thought she glimpsed something. Squinting, she raised her rifle, wondering if any of the captured mercenaries had escaped their restraints. She narrowed her eyes further as she saw a long, blond braid flutter in the strong gushes of the ship's downdraft.
Dwyn
. She groaned. What was she doing? Dwyn raced toward the ship and ducked underneath it.

“What the hell is Dwyn up to?” Jacelon shouted next to her. “Keep firing, Commander. We can't help her any other way.”

“I can pull her out.” Emeron was ready to run the same route Dwyn had taken.

“Negative. We need all the firepower we can get.”

She tried to spot Dwyn underneath the ship, but the dirt and grass whirling around the vessel made it impossible. Tears of fury and disbelief rose behind her eyelids, but she refused to break down. She needed to be on top of her game and keep the mercenaries occupied long enough for Dwyn carry out whatever she had set out to do. She hoped she hadn't gone in without a feasible plan.

A high-pitched tone echoed in the air, and for a moment Emeron thought the bots had returned to join the party. She looked around, ready to act, but even as the tone became increasingly louder, no bots appeared. She sniffed.

“Do you smell that?” she shouted to Leanne, who stood to her left, continuously firing on the ship.

“Smells weird, doesn't it?” Leanne yelled back. She stopped firing for a second and stared at the bottom of the ship. “Stars and skies, is that Dwyn?”

Emeron shifted to the left and tried to make out what Leanne saw. “She's under the ship, but I can't see her. Where is she?”

Leanne opened her mouth to answer, but a great explosion interrupted her and sent them both flying. Emeron landed in a short tree and, at first, she had no idea where she was. The branches pierced her uniform, and one sharp twig perforated the palm of her left hand. She yanked herself loose and cradled her hand as she slid down the tree. Standing on unsteady legs, she found that the explosion had tossed her more than five meters.

Around her, the teams were staggering to get to their feet. A quick glance at the cluster of trees where they had placed the civilians showed that the trees were intact. She couldn't make out Dahlia or the Disian young people, but hoped they were all right.

Shaking off the dazedness, she suddenly remembered Dwyn's position. She stared in horror at the wreckage, all that was left of the ship, which had broken into three major parts with debris scattered all around it. She couldn't imagine how Dwyn could have survived. A cry of outrage and sorrow broke from her, and she called Dwyn's name repeatedly as she ran toward the downed vessel.

“Dwyn.” She sobbed as she waded through the debris. “Dwyn.”

“Emeron. I thought I saw her being tossed right through the explosion.” Leanne was suddenly by her side, her temple bleeding from a deep cut.

“You're injured,” Emeron said hollowly.

“It's nothing. We have to secure the area. The mercenaries were thrown in all directions.” Leanne picked up a rifle and pressed it into her hands. “We'll find her. We'll find all of them.”

One by one, Emeron and Leanne located their teammates. The protector was the first to appear, climbing over the rubble to reach them. Emeron had never seen her look this way, disheveled and dangerous and with her hair in wild disarray around her face. “Report,” the protector barked.

“We are assessing the situation and locating our people, Commander,” Leanne said. “I was standing right next to the admiral. I haven't seen Owena.”

“Ma'am?” Oches came running toward them, three plasma-pulse rifles under one arm, pressing a torn piece of fabric to his neck. “The admiral is over by the bushes. She's fine, but needs help with one of the Disian youngsters, who was hit by shrapnel. We need a derma fuser. She's hemorrhaging badly.”

Emeron glanced around for any of their back-strap security carriers. Unlike the people, the packs had been sitting low enough to avoid the shock of the explosion. She ran to the bushes behind the trees and, as she bent to retrieve two of the carriers, she heard a faint voice to the left. “Commander?”

Pushing the branches aside she saw Ensign Noor sitting on the other side, cradling one of her junior officers. “Noor, hang on, we'll get to you.”

“We're all right, ma'am,” Noor said, and coughed. “She's breathing and her pulse is strong.”

“Good. You're protected where you are. Just stay there.”

Noor acknowledged and Emeron pulled the carriers out, rummaging through them. She found a med kit and pulled out a derma fuser. As she hurried back, she ran the fuser over her hand, patching herself so she could use it. The repair job would probably need reworking, but for now it would have to do.

Oches showed her where Jacelon sat, pressing her fingers into Yhja's inner thigh. The fabric of Yhja's pants was torn and her femoral artery was clearly severed.

“Oches, help the protector and Leanne localize our people. I'll assist the admiral.”

Oches nodded and took off.

Emeron set the derma fuser to a deep-blood-vessel setting and ran it over the wound. Yhja seemed unconscious, and all the blood on her clothes and Jacelon's made it clear that she would need a transfusion soon. After closing the rift in the artery, Emeron let the derma fuser work on the tissues, then finally closed the skin wound.

“There,” Jacelon said. “Do you think you can carry her back to the others? We need to regroup and get a head count.”

She lifted Yhja and shuddered at how boneless she seemed. “She needs a MEDEVAC, ma'am.”

“It should be on its way. I have no idea if Oches's communication center survived or why there was such an explosion. Nothing we did could have caused such a blast.”

“Dwyn was firing from underneath.” Emeron held Yhja tighter. “Who knows what she hit.”

“No matter what it was, the blast was completely out of proportion.”

“Perhaps the mercenaries were moving explosives in their cargo bay?”

“That's one theory. We'll see.” Jacelon ran up to Kellen and held her face in her hands. “You are all right, darling?”

“Yes. And you?”

“I'm fine. Now. Report.”

“We've located nearly all of our people, including Dahlia. She's over there, taking care of M'Ekar.”

“She's what?”

“Tending to
him
.” Kellen made a wry face.

“And Dwyn?” Emeron asked, putting Yhja down next to Trom, who pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes.

“I'm sorry. There's no sign of her.”

Emeron looked at the clearing and sensed that Dwyn was out there, under the wreckage.

“The mercenaries?”

“Several dead. We're gathering the survivors and giving first aid to the injured. The ones in the ship died, I believe, though some of the ones on the ramp made it.”

Emeron joined the members of her team who were sorting through the debris. She pulled at scorching pieces of fuselage, shoving what had once been seats and cabinets out of her way.

“Ma'am, over here,” Mogghy called urgently. “I found her.”

She stumbled across the debris, cutting her shins on sharp metal edges, but ignoring the pain. Mogghy was kneeling next to a big piece of the ramp, trying to move it.

“Dwyn. Is she...?” She knelt next to Mogghy. All she could make out of Dwyn was her long blond braid. “I can't see a thing. I need to get under there.”

“I don't recommend it, ma'am. The metal's still hot.”

Disregarding Mogghy's advice she dropped to her stomach and crawled in next to Dwyn, who didn't stir. It was dark under the ramp, and very hot. She wiped at the sweat forming on her forehead. Finally, she managed to reach Dwyn's head, and she fumbled for and prayed there would be a pulse in her neck.

She found the pulse, faint and thready, but it was there. She crawled closer and listened to Dwyn's raspy breathing. “Dwyn, come on.” She felt with her hands but couldn't judge if Dwyn had internal injuries, which she suspected. “Mogghy, I need a medical scanner.”

“I know. I don't have one. I have no idea where the main med kit is.” Mogghy murmured something inaudible, and she realized he was talking to someone outside. Suddenly the ramp above them shifted. She crawled on top of Dwyn and shielded her from falling dirt and rubble.

Mogghy knelt next to them. “Do you think she can be evacuated?”

Desperate, she shook her head. “No, damn it, I don't. Look at her, she's hardly breathing.” Jacelon, Kellen, and Leanne had joined them, and Owena was approaching behind them, carrying two blazing branches.

“We need some light here,” Owena said, and drove the branches into the ground. “Here, help me make more.” She handed several limbs to Leanne, who lit them with a quick blast of a sidearm.

Jacelon knelt next to Emeron and gently palpated Dwyn's stomach. “I think she's bleeding internally. Oches signaled the SC headquarters several times before the blast, and I can only hope the MEDEVAC teams get here in time.” She touched Dwyn's cheek. “She's so brave.”

“She's braver than any of us.” Emeron choked on her words, feeling utterly helpless. Fury rose inside her, as did the bile in her throat. “Dwyn...” she whispered to the motionless figure on the ground. She wanted to pull her into her arms, cover her with kisses, and coerce her life-force to return to her. Dwyn was so cold, but so deeply unconscious she didn't even shiver. Emeron didn't want to imagine what might have happened to her brain, and spine when the blast threw her and the ship halfway across the clearing. A small, persistent voice repeated that Dwyn was dying, that help was once again coming too late, and she could do nothing about it.

“Imer-Ohon-Da?” a faint female voice said, startling her. She snapped her head around and looked at Yhja, who stood on uncertain legs behind her with Trom holding her up. “We must hurry, Imer-Ohon-Da.”

“Yhja, you shouldn't be on your feet.” She motioned for Mogghy to take the young woman away, but Yhja raised her hand in a commanding gesture. “Listen to me, Imer-Ohon-Da. You are the daughter's daughter of Briijn. You possess the knowledge and talents of her bloodline. You don't recognize this, but now you have to use all the courage your grandmother gave you when you were a small child.” She stumbled up behind Emeron and placed her hand on her shoulder. Trom did the same, and their touch was warm and vibrating. “If you don't, Imer-Ohon-Da, we will lose Dwyn. Only you can save her.”

Emeron was about to object, fiercely, that Yhja would even suggest she should engage in the Disians' pseudo-magical thinking. She'd once hoped that the Disians would be able to save Briijn, but had soon realized that her Cormanian relatives were right. It was useless gibberish.

“You cannot allow your doubt to stand in the way of Dwyn's life and happiness.” Yhja spoke softly, but her voice grew stronger with each word. “You blame the Disian culture for the death of your grandmother, this is no secret. And Pri warned Trom and me that you were too wounded to determine the truth.”

“I need a medical scanner. And she needs a MEDEVAC to a hospital in Corma,” Emeron cried.

“Dwyn needs you. She needs the wisdom and knowledge that run through your veins. Trom and I cannot perform the ceremony, but you can. With our help, through you, you can do this, Imer-Ohon-Da.”

“Try, at least,” Leanne sobbed. “If I can do anything to help, Emeron, I will. Don't believe the cold-hearted socialites and careerists that make up most of the women in our family. Believe in Briijn. Believe in the woman you adored and who loved you unconditionally. Don't throw away your heritage. If you don't try...” Leanne drew a trembling breath and clung to Owena. “You'll never forgive yourself if she dies.”

“Leanne.” Emeron wanted to explain just how preposterous the possibility was when suddenly she visualized a half-naked Dwyn sitting on her bedroll in their tent, waiting patiently and faintly smiling as Emeron ran the sanitizer rod along her hair and body. She trembled and looked up at Yhja. “All right. What do I do?”

“You know the songs your grandmother sang by the fire?”

“Yes. Those were lullabies.”

“Yes. They are also the key to the gateway to healing. This is how parents and grandparents keep their families, especially their children, healthy.”

Emeron stared down at Dwyn, and for a terrifying moment, she thought it was too late. “All right.” She cleared her voice and glanced around, seeing the dirty and scratched faces of her unit and Jacelon's. Except for the two marines guarding their captive mercenaries, they all stood around Dwyn and her in a circle, and their presence gave her strength and courage. She placed her hands around Dwyn's ribs.