ExtremeCircumstances (5 page)

“Everybody down.” Gates’ voice boomed through the stunned
silence. It seemed to be just what his men needed to jar them out of their
stupor. Immediately the group crouched behind him.

Homer crept over to Gates and Jones and began to examine
Jones. The medic shook his head after a few seconds, though, and then focused
his attention on Gates. A bubble of frustration and anger expanded in the pit
of his stomach but there wasn’t much he could do to vent it. Homer had to be
pragmatic about the situation. He attended to the living and mourned the dead
later. It was something they were all familiar with. But it seemed as if they
had to push off the dying men’s needs too often with this mission.

They stayed low as Homer put a layer of antibiotic on Gates’
hand and then bandaged it. But as soon as Homer had wrapped Gates’ injury,
Gates started to move back. “Where are you going?” Homer held out a syringe as
he asked his question. “We’re not done here.”

“We can do that later. If we stay here, we’re sitting
ducks.” He was surprised that combatants hadn’t filled the jungle around them
even as he said the words. It was odd that there’d been the two arrows fired
and then nothing else. As he moved back another foot, though, black spots began
to dance through his field of vision. He shook his head to clear it but the
movement only made him feel ill.

“We’ll do it now. We can’t risk infection setting in.” Homer
advanced the small distance that separated them and gave Gates the injection.
As the needle retracted into the empty vial, Homer paused. “Are you feeling
okay, sir?”

Gates needed to scout out the area. Find the men who’d
attacked them. But his skin was damp with a light mist of sweat and his hands
had a slight tremble to them. “I’ll be fine.”

Homer picked up the arrow and sniffed the tip. “It smells
bitter.”

Gates didn’t know what Homer meant. Blood always smelled
metallic to him. Still, it seemed important to Homer since he pulled a cotton
swab out of his cargo pants and then placed the fuzzy tip to the metal. As
Gates watched Homer work he had to admit that everything did seem odd. The
fluffy tip of the cotton swab momentarily fascinated him. And when he looked
up, the trees seemed impossibly tall. “I don’t feel so great.”

“And I’m working on finding the reason for that.” Homer
placed the swab into a vial with clear liquid at the base. As soon as the swab
touched it, the liquid turned green. “There’s a foreign chemical on the arrow.
Looks as if it’s from the hallucinogen family.”

Julian crept up to where they were and squatted next to
them. It took all of the common sense Gates had left not to reach out to him.
“We need to get him and Jones out of here before the assailants come to finish
off the job.”

Homer looked around. “I don’t think there’s anyone out
there.”

“Someone fired the arrows.” Julian’s words made sense. But
surely if this had been an ambush the attackers would be swarming the group by
now. And if it wasn’t an ambush they needed to figure out what just happened.

There was the chance it was a trap. Gates had seen it enough
times to know better than to dismiss the idea out of hand. But either way they
needed to clear the area. “Jules is right. We should move. Set up camp a good
distance away from here and then send a couple of scouts back.” He tried to
stand but his head spun dangerously at the attempt.

“You aren’t going anywhere. At least not without help.”
Homer looked around the group. “Prescott, give the commander a shoulder.”

The only thing Gates hated more than his medic issuing
orders was knowing it was necessary. He couldn’t stand on his own let alone
hike to a secure location. So when Prescott hefted him up and then held him
securely around the waist, he didn’t complain. Even though the sudden movement
made his head feel as if it were about to explode. Sure, he might’ve moaned a
little. But he didn’t complain.

Julian, however, threw a glare at the man that made his feelings
obvious to any who were looking. It would’ve made Gates laugh if he didn’t feel
like shit. “How long until the hallucinogen wears off?” They’d started walking
and each step was agonizing for Gates.

“Hard to say. I have no idea what we’re dealing with or how
large of a dose you were given. And since it was introduced straight to your
bloodstream, there’s really no way for me to purge it from your system.”

“We could always try leeches.” Prescott chuckled and the
movement made another wave of nausea rush through Gates.

“Let’s save the comedy act until after we’ve set up camp,
okay?” Gates’ throat felt tight as he said the words and swallowing had
becoming difficult but he refused to say anything about the possible swelling.
If he did, Homer would insist they stop so he could examine Gates again. But
Gates could hear an internal clock of disaster ticking off each second in his
head. His men only had so much time to get away from the scene. He had to put
their safety first.

By the time they’d reached a usable clearing, though, every
breath felt as if it were being pulled through a pillow. His head throbbed
unbearably and whenever he opened his eyes the vibrant colors surrounding him
actually hurt, so he kept them closed as much as possible.

“The commander doesn’t sound so good.” Prescott’s voice
boomed around him, adding to the pain coursing through his brain. It had
reached the point where his teeth hurt with it.

“Here, put him down on this tarp.” Homer’s voice was easy
enough to recognize that Gates didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

The tarp was cool and smooth under him as he allowed himself
to be laid on it. His shirt tugged on his skin briefly as they repositioned it
and the excess water from a day of sweat made him shiver with each brush. Then
the cold metal touch of medical instruments tickled him around his sternum. He
wanted to push the annoying things away but he couldn’t seem to lift his hand.

“He’s going into respiratory failure.”

Homer’s voice seemed garbled and far away. It was much too
distant for Gates to actually worry about. He should probably be issuing orders
right now. Only he didn’t want to do anything but nap.

A sudden punch to his chest woke him and added to his
confusion and the aches of his body. He’d ask who the hell was hitting him if
it wasn’t for the warm, firm lips pressed to his. At the recognition, his mind
filled with images of Julian, and Gates wrapped an arm around broad shoulders
and ran his tongue along the other man’s top lip. Immediately Julian had
disappeared but so had the pummeling.

“I do believe he’s conscious again.”

Gates cursed to himself as he recognized Homer’s voice. “I
thought you were someone else.”

His medic snorted. “Obviously.”

Gates opened his eyes to find he was now inside a tent. The
orange light of a campfire that bled through one of the thin walls told him
that it must be late. But other than that, he couldn’t find any reference for
how much time had passed. “I came to confused and—”

“Don’t sweat it, Commander. It’s an understandable reaction
for someone who’s been through a drug overdose.”

Gates was relieved by how nonchalant Homer was being about
the whole thing. “Thanks.”

“Is that gratitude for not pressing sexual harassment
charges or saving your sorry ass?”

He smiled weakly at Homer’s attempt at a joke. “Saving my
ass. I’m still not convinced you won’t drag me in front of a tribunal when we
get home.”

“Please. I’m too happy to have you back with us to drag you
anywhere. You’ve had the men on edge most of the night. It’s downright rude to
make them worry like that.”

“Yes, Mother.” Gates drew out the words to sound like a
petulant child.

Homer laughed and shook his head. “I do believe the worst of
it should be past. Thankfully since it was just a drug and not a poison you
should rebound from any remaining effects quickly.”

“I should be thankful? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Gates might feel a little better than before but his body still ached as if
he’d been dragged behind a shuttle. He couldn’t find it in himself to be overly
thankful for anything right now.

“Yes. You should be very thankful. You’ll be up and about by
tomorrow.”

Gates groaned at the prediction.

“The muscle aches and pains should disappear over the next
couple of hours.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It should be.” Homer started packing up his stuff. “In the
meantime Julian and Prescott have a report. They, along with a couple of the
other men, went back to scout the area where you were shot.” With that
unceremonious goodbye Homer crawled out the door of the tent.

Not that Gates missed the medic. At the mention of Julian’s
name Gates’ heart had started beating faster and his thoughts had become locked
on the other soldier. The memory of the warmth of Homer’s mouth on his suddenly
made him feel empty inside. He needed to replace it with the real thing.

Gates sat up carefully and waited. When Julian stepped into
the tent he took a second to memorize every one of the man’s features. But then
Gates’ attention was pulled to the other man who’d entered with Julian.
Prescott. Gates gave himself a mental shake to snap out of his fixation with
Julian. They were there to give a report. And Gates was going to do his job and
hear them out.

Prescott started. And as usual the man was all business. “We
wandered into a trap today. We found several more in that general area. Had we
continued pressing toward the goal, we could’ve taken on some real casualties.”

But they had suffered real loss. And Gates’ inability to
protect one of his men ate at his conscience. “Jones died. He was a real
casualty.”

Prescott looked down at his lap. “I know. I’m sorry, sir. I
only meant—”

Gates immediately felt like a dick. He knew what Prescott
meant by the statement. And the loss of Jones wasn’t Prescott’s burden to
carry. It wasn’t fair of Gates to lay it on him. “No, I’m sorry. I know what
you meant. I’m just still coming to terms with what happened today. I didn’t
mean to take it out on you.”

Prescott nodded. “You’ve been unconscious while the rest of
us were coming to terms with it. I get it.”

Gates doubted that he did. No one could until he was in a
position of power. But he let the statement go. “So who left the traps?”

“No idea. But I think it’s safe to say that somebody knows
we’re here. And they’re intelligent enough to hunt us.”

Gates nodded at the possible answer. Still, there were other
options and it was important to look at them. “I agree that something’s
definitely hunting on this planet. But how do we know we’re the prey? Maybe the
trap was designed to stun an animal. Whoever set it could come back at a later
time and easily finish off the prey.”

“No sir. It had been set for us.” Julian had been so quiet
that the simple words grabbed Gates’ attention immediately. “We have a guard
posted near the trap. We should know more when whoever set it returns to check
on it.”

“That’s a good plan.”

Julian smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“But I’m not convinced the traps were set for us. I’d hate
to alert an intelligent life form to our existence when we’re just passing
through.” Gates had to be sure before he’d risk being discovered. If the attack
had been nothing more than a coincidence and they revealed themselves, it could
lead to an escalation.

“There was one more discovery. But since it’s Julian’s I
think he should be the one to tell you.” Prescott’s stomach rumbled loudly,
making Gates wonder how long ago they’d gotten back from scouting. He needed
the report but he hadn’t meant to keep them from their dinner.

“If that’s all, you’re dismissed, Prescott. Go put some food
in you before it’s time to turn in.”

“Yes sir.” Prescott nodded before he backed out the door.

Now that he and Julian were alone, all the desire and heat
of their night together flooded through him. He wanted to pull Julian onto his
lap and kiss him hard on the lips. But he had no idea what Julian wanted.
They’d only been together once. That didn’t exactly give him privileges. And he
did need to finish hearing the scouting report. “So? What did you discover,
Jules?” He cleared his throat in an attempt to get rid of some of the desire
making his voice husky but he doubted the action would help.

“When your bleeding wouldn’t stop, I had Homer check the
arrowhead again. It was laced with an anticoagulant.”

“Which would help bring an animal down if it were used for
hunting.”

“If an animal were the intended victim the compound wouldn’t
have been very effective on you. Your modifications would’ve given you some
measure of immunity. But this one was highly effective.” Julian shuddered and
his face paled slightly in the orange glow of the firelight.

It was true. As strong as they were, sometimes they got
hurt. Occasionally they even needed to have heart valves replaced. Traditional
anticoagulants hadn’t been enough when they went into surgery so the government
chemists had come up with something designed for their physiology. “I take it
Homer confirmed the findings?”

“He did.”

Gates’ stomach cramped. Only this time it was with fear.
Still, he couldn’t let even a trace of it show on his face. “Whoever set this
trap could be hunting the reptile men. They have to have manipulated genetics
as well.”

“They could be. But everything we’ve encountered so far has
been put here to stop us—to stop super-soldiers. There’s no reason for the
scientist to design a poison for one of his lines of defense.”

He had a point. Gates lay down on the tent floor. This
entire planet was one huge trap for modified soldiers. Not that he could tell
his men that. Hell, they probably didn’t need him to. They were smart. They’d
probably already figured it out for themselves.