The invisible enemy turned white. He was huge, and not Prillon.
Brax saw the enemy as well. His eyes widened. “A farking integrated Atlan. Gods help us.”
He fired at Trist’s attacker, shoving me behind him now that he could see the enemy. Over and over the blaster fire struck the huge Hive warrior. Terrified Brax would shoot Trist accidentally, I couldn’t tear my gaze from the fight for survival raging before me.
“Take him out!” Trist ordered. Using a strength I could only imagine, he lifted the Hive off his feet and threw him several feet away.
The moment they were separated, both Brax and Var fired without stopping.
When the beast was down, unmoving, they stopped, both Brax and Var looking to Trist, who staggered back against the wall, his breathing ragged, his shoulders drooped with exhaustion.
Trist stared at the huge Atlan, bleeding and broken on the ground. I’d never seen anything so tragic in my life and tears gathered as I wondered about the giant who fought to get up. To keep fighting.
“There are nine of us.” The Atlan pulled himself to a sitting position and turned his face to Brax. “Do it. End this torment.”
Oh god. I remembered now. I’d heard about what the Hive did to those Coalition fighters they captured. They integrated them, some more than others, converting them into fighting machines so they attacked those who they used to serve with. It seemed this Atlan had not been fully integrated. He knew he was the enemy, that he was beyond saving. Beyond redemption. Death was the only release from the prison where the integrations in his body had him trapped.
He didn’t want to fight us. He knew he was one of us, but could never be more.
God, it was so awful. I blinked back tears as Brax kept his blaster trained on the Atlan, adjusting something on the top of it. Brax addressed the warrior, the only Hive fighter still alive in the room. “Die with honor, brother.”
The Atlan bowed his head and closed his eyes in obvious relief. “Thank you.”
Brax bowed slightly at the waist and fired. The Atlan flashed so brightly I had to avert my eyes. When I turned back to look, there was gray dust, finer than flour, where the Atlan had been moments before. I swallowed a lump in my throat, smiled down at the girls.
“Three more.” Trist spoke into the quiet, his powerful frame sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass with a hard thump. His agony hit me as if he’d been holding it back, protecting me, and no longer could. As if he were losing consciousness.
“Trist.” I rushed to his side, everything else forgotten. “Trist. Oh my god. You’re hurt.” And he was. His chest and shoulders were an oozing mess, as if he’d been on fire. Blood slowly pumped from his leg in a constant stream. I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew that meant he had a severed vein, maybe even an artery. I’d taken basic first aid, but didn’t spurting mean artery? No spurting. But still, god, he was dying.
Brax was at my side, pushing Trist onto his back. He turned to Var. “Watch the door. Count to three and fire. Keep that corridor clear.”
“Yes, sir.” Var moved into place and I was shocked to see his sister race to his side, bowl of flour in hand. She hid behind the door’s frame, blindly throwing handfuls into the air in the corridor to help her brother.
So fierce, for children.
Brax gently moved me to the side
and pulled his green doctor’s tunic off over his head. Using it as a tourniquet, he yanked and pulled the fabric around Trist’s thigh above the wound until Trist moaned in protest, but at least the bleeding slowed to a small trickle. “Miranda is going to be upset if you die, so get yourself together, Captain.”
Brax’s voice held the command that usually came from Trist.
Trist actually chuckled at that, but I was too stressed to appreciate that fact. I knew we had to get to a shuttle to save Trist’s life. And per the Atlan who’d given us the info and then asked to be put out of his misery, we knew there were three more of those… things… in our way.
I grabbed Trist’s blaster thing out of his limp hand and pointed it at a chair. “Brax, show me how to use this thing.”
“No.” Trist started to protest, but I ignored him. “Now, Brax, or I’ll never forgive either one of you.”
When Brax hesitated, looking to Trist for permission, Trist lifted his hands to wrap around mine. Shaking and weak, he curved his fingers gently until I held the weapon in the proper position. “Aim, mate, and when you are ready, squeeze here.”
It wasn’t exactly like a trigger on a handgun back on Earth, but it was close. I took aim and blasted the stupid chair off its legs. Good. If any of those things thought they were taking one of my mates from me, they had another thing coming. And they better think twice about fucking with any children.
I turned to Brax, fierce and ready to end this. “Let’s go. We need to get Trist out of here.”
“Agreed.” Brax looked grim, but not scared, and that gave me hope that we would all survive this mess. I knew he was more than just a doctor, but I hadn’t talked about that with Trist during our time alone. I’d been much more interested in exploring… other things than talk about Brax and his secret missions—missions which I technically knew nothing about.
Missions that I was now grateful for, because he knew how to use a gun—some big-ass weapon like a Howitzer—and he could also fly us off this ship. Apparently, he could fly just about everything in the entire Coalition Fleet.
Brax was just one surprise after another.