Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (19 page)

The
toga-clad woman slumped down into her chair, her hand still in Feldea’s. “How
can you be so calm?”

The
pilot gave her a little smile even though the concern remained in her eyes.
“I’m not, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m as worried about General Crineal as
you are. So I just have to lay here and wait.”

Ten
minutes later, the first of the Ares pilots were brought in. Cyndora stood so
she could see their faces and she started counting them. One, two, three,
four…  Then two pilots strode in alongside three more floating gurneys. That
made nine, then a brief spell when none came in before another small flood of
four more gurneys and one more walking pilot, Crineal wasn’t among them.
Fourteen. She felt the fear starting to grip her tightly and as one of the
uninjured pilots passed by she saw it was the captain from the briefing she had
attended two days earlier.

“Sir?”
she asked clutching at his arm. “Please? Do you know what’s happened to General
Crineal?”

The
tall, round faced captain frowned down at her for a second before recognizing
who she was. “Oh, I’m sorry, the last I heard he was down but his fighter
crashed into a wall. As I left the bay I heard they were trying to cut his body
out of the wreckage.”

Cyndora
let his arm go and collapsed onto her chair with a sob. She felt Feldea’s hand
resting on her shoulder in sympathy as she started to cry.

At
first she didn’t even look up when the med bay doors opened a few minutes
later. Then Feldea’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Cyndy, look,” she heard
the young woman say.

Through
tear blurred eyes she saw another team of meds pushing a gurney into the bay, a
black-clad figure on it. She rushed over as they carefully maneuvered it into a
vacant spot. The left side of Crineal’s face was blackened, but Cyndora saw it
was just soot. The blood caking his flight suit’s arm and leg told her that most
of his injuries weren’t superficial though.

Doctor
Marrash regarded her sternly. “Assistant, please return to your chair and let
us work, otherwise I’ll have the guard remove you.”

Cyndora
started to back away. “Will he be ok?” she sobbed.

“He
will be if you move and stop getting in my way,” he growled at her.

Retreating
to her chair by the lieutenant she found Feldea’s hand again and clutched it
for comfort.

Feldea
kept shifting her looks from Cyndora to where Crineal lay. “What did the doc
say?”

The
chestnut redhead stifled another sob. “He said Crin would be ok.”

The
lieutenant nodded. “Usually, if they can get you in here, then you’re going to
make it.” She looked sharply at Cyndora. “Crin, huh? You really like him then?”
Cyndora nodded and gave Feldea gave her another long look. “You in love with
him?”

Cyndora
looked startled. “I… I don’t know. He’s really great and kind and I care for
him a lot. He’s a good friend.”

The
other woman nodded, smiling a little “We all feel that way about him. Every
pilot would give anything for him. But looks like it’s a bit more with you.”

The
med bay doors opened once more and two more officers practically ran in. Both
were men, one was tall and thin, the other just a little shorter and stocky,
with a short, bristly beard. They slid to a halt as they took in all the med
staff working in groups around various beds and then locked their gazes onto
where the two women sat with the marine standing guard. As they made their way
over, the marine came to life and moved between the two approaching men and the
women. They halted uncertainly as they eyed the guard, his pulse rifle at the
ready.

“It’s
ok, Private. Unfortunately I know these two,” Feldea reassured him. “So, you’re
back from leave and you didn’t come and visit?”

“C’mon,
Fel,” the stocky one said, “You can grouse at us later. How is he?” The two men
were eyeing Cyndora as he spoke.

“Don’t
worry, Mus, Doc says he’ll make it.” Cyndora could see the newcomers both ease
in relief. “Now, you didn’t visit me and bring me a present why exactly?”

The
tall one looked morose. “We ran out of money. That’s why we’re back early.”

“How
did you two run out of money? The last I knew you’d scammed the squadron out of
half of their pay,” Feldea accused with an arched eyebrow.

“Genius,
here,” the stocky one pointed a thumb at the other, “heard of this great place
called Las Vegas where he said we could get rich.”

“How
was I to know the games were all rigged, Muscovy? Gimme a break,” the taller
one defended himself plaintively.

“They
weren’t rigged, Stal. You just couldn’t break the security to rig them yourself,”
Muscovy said.

“Which
just shows they musta been hiding something. I’m telling you the place was crooked,”
Staller said heatedly.

By
now Muscovy had fixed his eyes firmly on Cyndora. “And who are you, little
lady?” he asked eyeing her figure appreciatively.

“My
name is Cyndora, Sir,” she answered nervously.

Muscovy
opened his mouth to speak again but Feldea cut in. “Cyndy is the general’s
personal recreation assistant.” Muscovy’s mouth stayed open in amazement.

His
partner in crime spoke up instead. “Good one, Fel,” he paused, taking in her
serious look. “You’re kidding, right? This is the boss we’re talking about… he
doesn’t hold with… uh, recreation assistants.” Staller smiled weakly at
Cyndora.

Feldea
smiled at them both sweetly. “No joke, boys. The last person who tried to mess
with her is in the brig facing a capital court martial. You really, really need
to be nice to her.” Cyndora tried to hide a smile as her friend, and she felt a
little surprised that she had come to think of Feldea as a friend, laid it on
thick for the two men standing there.

Muscovy
recovered first. “Nice to meet you, Cyndora, please excuse my associate here.
We’re still trying to train him how to behave in company.” He smiled
ingratiatingly at her as Feldea glared at him.

“Now,
why don’t you two leave us in peace and make sure that anyone else who’s back
early doesn’t come crashing in here? I’ll comm you if there’s anything you need
to know,” she said, making the suggestion sound like an order.

“Sure,
Fel,” Muscovy nudged Staller to shake him out of his stupor. “We can run
interference, right, Stal?”

“Umm…
yeah, sure, we can do that,” he said, still looking at Cyndora before shaking
himself. “No problem, leave it to us.” He nodded at Cyndora, smiled brightly,
then turned and left with Muscovy, gesturing to his bearded friend as they
exited the med bay. Cyndora was sure that some of those gestures were about her.

“Sorry
about that, honey,” Feldea said casting dark looks at the pair leaving. “I hope
they’re not planning something stupid. The general will skin them alive.”

“Thanks
for protecting me from them, Ma’am,” Cyndora said gratefully.

“That’s
what friends are for. And if you call me Ma’am again…,” she threatened. “You
can call me Fel. Us redheads have to stick together, right?”

“Thank
you, Fel. That means a lot to me.” Her eyes were on the general’s bed where the
med techs had just finished cutting away his flight suit and under clothes.
Even from here Cyndora could see the wounds down his left side, dried and fresh
blood was everywhere. Feldea followed her concerned gaze.

“Don’t
worry, Cyndy. It looks worse than it probably is. The flight suits have built
in med packs to supplement the med aids on the fighters. The suits are
self-sealing, too. I would guess he’s got a lot of shrapnel in him and some
vacuum burns from where the suit was ripped before it resealed.” She patted
Cyndora’s hand. “He’ll be fine. I was much worse than that when they brought me
in.” The doctor was already working on the entry areas and pulling out bits of
metal from Crineal’s wounds. “He’ll be out of here in no time and then you get
the problem of trying to nurse him whilst he recovers. Don’t envy you that.
Well, maybe some of the stuff, like bathing him.” Her hazel eyes twinkled
mischievously.

Cyndora
blushed but decided to tease her back. “Got the hots for the general too, huh?”

“I
wouldn’t say no, but I don’t think I’m his type,” she said reflectively. “Not
long term anyway. A short fling might be a lot of fun though.”

Cyndora
felt a surge of jealousy and then wondered where it had come from. Crineal was
hardly her boyfriend… maybe. Plus Galactics tended to be a lot more open about
casual relationships. Short-term partnerships weren’t unusual and they were
more accepting when a partner decided to go on their separate way. Still, the
pangs she had felt were very real.

An
hour later, Doctor Marrash had finished patching Crineal up and Cyndora was
allowed to sit next to him. His left side, arm and leg were wrapped in bandages
over a coating of gel. Her new guard stood by her, the previous one having been
relieved about forty-five minutes earlier. He scanned the med area alertly for
any threats. The door opened and the guard tensed slightly and then sprang to
attention. Cyndora looked up to see a black-haired man with an awful lot of
gold braid on his shoulder tabs entering.

“Attention.
Admiral on deck,” her guard shouted as he threw up a precision salute.

Cyndora
jumped to her feet and stood as she’d been instructed to, a semi-attention,
thrusting out a lot of breast.

“At
ease, everyone,” Ken’Rathel said as he headed towards Crineal’s bed. The guard
relaxed fractionally and Cyndora just stayed where she was, uncertain what to
do. He came to a stop in front of her. “You, too, young lady,” he said kindly
with a rich mellow voice. “Please sit down.” He looked around for a chair for
himself and before he could even give an order the guard had moved one into
place for him. “Thank you, son. I appreciate it.” He sat down and looked at Crineal’s
unconscious form. “How is he?”

“The
doctor says he’s doing well, Sir. They had to dig a lot of shrapnel out of him,
but he’s going to be ok.” Cyndora sat stiffly upright as she’d been taught to.

“You
must be Cyndora, I’m Admiral Ken’Rathel.” She stiffened further on hearing his
name and knowing from it that he was a noble. He eyed her shrewdly for a moment
and then looked up at the guard. “Private, would you mind posting yourself at
the doorway, please?”

The
marine snapped back to attention, saluted and marched stiffly to stand sentry
at the entrance to the ward. Once he was out of earshot the admiral smiled
warmly at her. “Don’t worry, Cyndora. We’re not all like Commander Del’Tarim.
I’d like to apologize to you for his behavior. As one of my officers, I take
full responsibility for his actions and promise you that I will do my best to
ensure that he receives the appropriate punishment.” Cyndora was more than a
little surprised to hear his apology and also wondered if he was in on Crineal’s
plans to deal with Del’Tarim.

“Thank
you, Sir, but you have nothing to apologize for. The commander was responsible
for his own actions.”

“Most
gracious and I thank you for that.” He looked pained for a moment. “Please,
would you pull your, admittedly lovely, chest in? I’m an old man and not used
to that much excitement.” Ken’Rathel gave her another smile to show he was
teasing her. Cyndora relaxed in her chair and returned his smile. “Thank you. I
didn’t want the doctor to have to treat me. Did he say when the general would
be up and about?”

“No,
Sir,” Cyndora replied. “He said he’d know more when the general recovered
consciousness.”

“Well,
he’s certainly going to be off flight duty for a while. I wish he’d taken the
leave I offered him, but I’m glad he was out there today. We might have lost
the whole squadron without him.” The admiral looked somber. “With the general
being in this condition, I’m going to order a permanent guard for you both
until the trial is over.”

“Yes,
Sir. When will that be?” she asked curiously, anxious for the whole thing to be
over and done with.

“It
was supposed to start in three days’ time, but it will have to wait until
General Crineal is fit enough to attend. Well, I’d better have a word with the
doctor,” and he rose to his feet. Cyndora started to stand, too, but he waved
her down. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, young lady. In the meantime, you take
care of the general for me.” Ken’Rathel gave her a last smile and went in
search of Doctor Marrash.

Cyndora
wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she was roused from a semi-doze by a
small groan from the bed next to her. She came fully awake and leaned over to
see that Crineal’s eyelids were moving.

“Uuhhhh,”
he breathed heavily and then opened his eyes slowly. His blue irises looked odd
against the bloodshot redness of the whites. He licked his lips. “Hi there,” he
croaked.

“Hey
yourself.” She smiled back at him whilst hitting the button on the bed panel to
summon one of the med staff. One of the techs appeared and immediately comm’d Dr
Marrash upon seeing that the general was awake.

“Thirsty,”
Crineal whispered in a cracked voice. The tech disappeared for a minute and
came back with a soft plastic bottle of water with a tube in it. He put the
tube to the general’s lips and squeezed out a little water for him.