“I did specify a healthy female, did I not?” The silky tone did not disguise the commander’s annoyance.
Every instinct went on alert. Even though he was unsure as to T’ngorzul’s exact plans, he did not want this female to be part of them. “I did not bring her for your testing, sir. I can obtain another specimen.”
T’ngorzul waved a hand. “She is here now. Assuming she lives, she will do.”
The protest emerged before he could bite it back. “But, sir—”
“Officer T’saran, do I need to remind you that your penchant for assisting seemingly helpless females has caused enough issues in the past?”
T’saran clenched his teeth against an impulsive reply, anger and guilt fighting for dominance.
Assuming the matter was settled, T’ngorzul had already moved on. “S’kran, take her to your lab. It won’t hurt to heal her wounds before you begin your experiments.” He cast a dismissive glance at the silent figure in T’saran’s arms, once again wrapped in the tattered coat. “Perhaps you should disinfect her as well.”
With that parting shot, T’ngorzul departed. S’kran stepped forward. Like most scholars, he lacked the musculature of the warriors, but in his case the lack of bulk was almost skeletal. T’saran knew that he also had an unfortunate fondness for alcoholic substances, but T’ngorzul had assured him that he was still a competent medic.
“I can take her to the lab,” S’kran offered.
“I will bring her myself,” he growled, and S’kran took a nervous step back.
“Yes, of course, warrior.” S’kran ducked his head, then turned and led the way out of the dock, his shoulders hunched as if he expected T’saran to assault him from behind. He had to bite back another growl at the implied insult to his honor before he followed.
The ship T’ngorzul had chosen for this mission was a small patrol vessel, hastily retrofitted with a lab area and the medical equipment S’kran had requested. It should probably have been decommissioned years ago, T’saran thought resentfully as he walked behind the medic through the dingy corridors. He still remembered the gleaming white walls and pristine equipment of the ship transporting him to his first assignment, back when the future seemed full of promise.
Instead, he followed an untrustworthy medic into a lab where the raw metal walls of its former occupation as a storage area were only too apparent, and a motley assortment of machines was scattered about in disorganized chaos. This is temporary, he reminded himself. Commander T’ngorzul might not have been liked by everyone, but his lineage was unimpeachable, and this assignment would pave the way to better ones.
“Put her on the exam table, please,” S’kran said, already hurrying to a lopsided cabinet.
T’saran laid her on the table, carefully placing her on her side so that she was not resting on her injury. His hearts clenched at how small and fragile she looked. S’kran returned and reached for her coat.
T’saran had him up against the wall, his claws at his throat, before he realized what he intended to do.
“Warrior!” S’kran squeaked. “I mean no harm to the female.”
Fuck, he was acting like she was his mate. There was a reason why female Yehrin were only ever treated by female medics. T’saran took a deep breath and forced his hands to unclench, leaving behind a thin trickle of blood on S’kran’s throat.
“I apologize, medic.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he had no right to protest. He stepped back and allowed S’kran to approach the table again.
“Begin with the head wound,” he ordered.
Keeping a cautious eye on T’saran, the medic ran a scanner across the back of her head.
“As indicated by our preliminary surveys, their skulls are very thin,” he said. “But it does not appear to be broken, merely bruised, and the skin is torn.”
“Can you correct it?”
“Y-yes. But I will need to touch her.”
T’saran studied the other male. He did not like the idea of the medic’s hands on his female, but she needed assistance. S’kran’s eyes were clear and his speech unimpeded—his abilities would not be hindered by alcohol.
“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.
S’kran gathered some additional equipment, then carefully removed a small portion of the female’s long brown hair. Possessed by some unexplainable desire, T’saran gathered the strands and tucked them into his belt while he continued to watch the medic closely. He didn’t even realize that he was growling until S’kran’s hands started to shake and the medic shot him a fearful glance.
“Continue,” T’saran ordered. “I will not harm you as long as you are careful.”
S’kran did not appear to find that reassuring, but he continued, using the scanner to identify and heal bruised areas before sealing the wound and covering it with a healing gel.
“That’s the best I can do, but she should recover quickly.” S’kran took a deep breath. “Are there other injuries?”
T’saran considered the one on her breast, but he hated the thought of the medic seeing her unclothed form. Like all warriors, he had received medical training as part of his studies, and he could take care of basic wounds.
“She has a cut and some bruising. Leave the scanner and the gel. I will treat them myself.”
S’kran wrung his hands, the small black claws of a scholar looking impotent and helpless. “Commander T’ngorzul wishes me to perform some tests immediately.”
“She will be healed first.” His tone brooked no disagreement.
“Y-yes, but—”
“Leave us, S’kran,” he ordered, then remembered the small size of the ship. He did not want S’kran running into the commander.
“Wait in your quarters,” he amended. The medic had a small bunk room attached to the lab. “Do not emerge until I call for you.”
“Yes,
