“Training.”
That’s what you call it – the fighting and brawling among recruits.
We call it training. We conduct it in sand-strewn arenas, and while wearing workout gear, all to save face.
But the truth is: We new recruits needed the pain of fighting among ourselves to block out our rancid fear, and the horrible memories of the fate our brothers had faced as they’d died by our sides.
In some ways, the fighting we’d done on the Reaver, that first night, was as much responsible for forging the Bond between Hadrian, Kitos and I as battling the Scorp had been.
We three had brawled together. Fought, and punched, and yelled. Fighting – even among ourselves – kept us sharp, and we sharpened our iron well that first night.
We drank, too. Drink dulls your senses, and together my battle brothers and I had hoped the combination would give us dreamless sleep.
Instead, we were all haunted that night by the whimpers and screams of the men who’d died all around us.
I drag myself out from my dark thoughts. Instead, I look at the bright hope, sitting in the medical chair in front of me.
No – I don’t want to make Allie suffer any pain, but if she needs it, she needs it.
She’s a strong woman – and I can’t take the choice of sedation away from her.
“AI – proceed.”
The steel tentacles of the med-bay chair extend. One of the probing, steel arms moves to Allie’s right forearm. A sudden beam of bright, fiery laser shoots out and scorches the flesh of her arm.
The metal restraints curled around Allie’s arms and legs keep her perfectly in place – but I can still feel her agony through the Bond. Allie hisses out in pain, gasping for relief; but she wears her agony with the resilience of an Aurelian.
More than that – the grief in her Aura fades as the pain floods her body. I know what she’s doing. Sometimes the physical pain is nothing compared to emotional distress. Sometimes, it can even help drown out the more painful emotions.
Her pain floods through the Bond, and I feel it as though it’s my own. My rage builds. I hate to see innocents suffering. I never want to see my mate in pain like this again.
“Do you need me to stop it?” I ask her through gritted teeth. “Do you need sedation?”
Tears are streaming from Allie’s eyes as the surgical laser tortures her, burning deep within her skin. But beneath the tears, her eyes flash defiantly.
“Fuck, no,” she hisses. “I can handle it… I can fucking handle it.” She snarls, and I realize I’ve never seen someone so strong in all my life.
Concern and shock suddenly pour through the Bond – this time from my triad.
“Everything is under control,” I telepath. “Our mate is not in danger.” I know I have to respond – to keep them from leaving their posts and running to Allie’s aid.
Allie could have taken sedation. She could have taken an injection to numb the pain of this procedure. Instead, she bears down on it, clenching her jaw – crushing the pain with her iron will, before the pain can crush her.
It hurts me to watch, but I force myself to. I force myself to feel every ounce of pain being broadcast through our shared telepathic Bond. If I am to be linked to Allie for the rest of my life, I need to be able to handle when she’s in pain. Life is not all beauty and goodness. I will try and ensure she never experiences pain, but if there are times she suffers, she needs me to be clear-headed through them.
I clench my fist…
Gods! I can’t take it. I can’t take her pain. I thought I could – I thought I needed to – but, instead, all I’m learning now is how horrifying it is when Allie suffers.
I swear to myself that I’ll never let anyone hurt her, or ever take her from me. Allie is mine, by the will of the Gods, and I will keep her safe wherever she goes.
The surgical beam mercifully stops. Allie lies in the chair, panting desperately. She’s faint – her eyes barely focusing.
I hate to ask this next question – but I must.
“Do you want the other modification fixed? The shift-disrupter?”
My question is a probe.
Most conventional ships use combustion engines – driven by fusion or anti-matter engines. Only Aurelian Empire ships, Toad battle cruisers, and a few of the very wealthiest of humans have access to Orb-Drives.
Yet her device is specifically designed to disrupt Orb-Shifts.
If she agrees – if she does want her shift-disrupter re-activated, it can only mean that somewhere along the line, she's planning to use it again.
The question is – why?
It’s clear why she had the shift-disrupter implanted – because she was on the run from the Aurelian Law Enforcement, and because Enforcement ships all use Orb-Drive technology. She knew the device could give her an opportunity to escape.
But now she’s with us… Does she want to have the device reactivated to use it against us? To escape us once again, when our Orb-Drive is finally repaired?
Or does she merely want to be prepared – in case she’s captured by another group of Aurelians. Whether Empire-affiliated, or Rogue, does Allie view that as a real possibility?
I know I won’t gain any specific information if she asks for her device to be restored – but it will be reassuring if she refuses.
I almost pray she does refuse.
“Yes,” Allie says. “I want it repaired.”
It’s good I didn’t make that prayer, as the Gods have chosen not to answer it.
I swallow. I can grant her this request – but I can’t watch her go through more torture.
“Very well,” I tell her, “but, please, Allie – take a shot of sedation before the procedure this time. I can’t watch you go through that torture again.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll take a shot.”
One of the probes directed by the AI darts down, pricking her
