Chapter 9
STRON
Everything rocked forward as a second explosion shook the platform.
The female with the bright hair who was more obstinate than anyone he’d ever met—except maybe Dhomhes—slammed against him. Her whole body hit his.
Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her, and they both hit the ground hard. His armor extended, wrapping tightly, safely, around them both.
He rolled as they fell, guarding her against the brunt of the impact. The blast left the whole place ringing and his head throbbing from the force of the explosion. The platform surged and wavered underneath them
Was it falling?
So disoriented, Stron wasn't sure. In weak attempts to orientate himself, he tried to find something in the chaos. Bodies lay everywhere scattered haphazardly across what was left of the platform. Some bodies moved, some didn't.
Suddenly, The Galactic Alliance’s ship exploded. The initial blast was in the middle, and subsequent ones traveled down the hull like a chain.
A secondary explosion sent the remnants of the ship skidding off the side of the landing platform and over the edge.
Stron could not believe how silent it was, at least until he realized that everything was silent.
The girl turned and looked at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.
She started waving her hand in front of his face.
He couldn't hear her.
He couldn't hear anything.
Then he though his own head was going to explode from the sudden ringing and the pressure.
“Hey! Kantenan,” the female's voice started to cut through the ringing.
He blinked and rubbed his face. “Yes.”
“What’s going on? We’re stuck here!” Her face paled. “We have to get out of here! We can’t stay here!”
Stron put his hands on her arms. “Breathe.” He stared into her eyes, wide in panic and terror.
“We’re, we’re—”
“You’re okay, Adryel. You’re going to be safe.”
“Not feeling that,” she said, twisting in his arms. She winced, crying out in pain.
The move made him wince as well.
“Guess we both need to see medical.”
He glared at her.
Adryel grinned at him.
“First though,” she said, and gestured to his armor that still had them both cocooned in a protective net.
“You don’t like being protected?” he managed to say.
“Not by you,” she said and started pushing away from him. She winced again as she managed to wiggle out from the retreating armor.
He put his hand on his chest where she laid.
Her blood stained his formal robes.
“No, it's alright, you go ahead, I'm good,” Adryel said, pushing yet another female ahead of herself in the line of people to be seen by the healers and the medical bots. The banquet hall had been converted into a shelter for the refugees of the galactic alliance. The ones still alive, anyway.
“Will you go?” Stron snapped at her. He'd already gotten treated. A shot of meds and a couple of quick healing patches on the small wounds rebalanced his system after the explosion.
She, however, had spent this entire time ignoring her own, much worse, injury.
And he was ready to throw her off the nearest platform.
She shook her head. “She's way more hurt than I am. She's got blood all over her face! I'm fine. I can wait.” Stron didn’t miss the hand clutched at her side.
“You need to be treated too.”
“It's a scratch. Seriously. I have a headache and small lacerations. Nothing that a medical patch won't heal in a moment.”
Why did she fight the help? He did not understand. It was not like the medical droids needed breaks, this was their purpose.
Stron shook his head. “You make me crazed.”
She shrugged. “Well, you know, it is entertaining.”
“Fine. Whatever you think. I have things to see to.”
He glanced around the secured location—where they were supposed to have a banquet and celebration for the newly chosen brides.
It had been rapidly converted into a secured location.
Floating beds had been set up all around the room for patients needing more care, and a triage center where minor wounds could be handled.
The food from the banquet now fed those who were still able to eat.
Some of the Galactic Alliance staff were mixed in with Kantenans, trying to track down all the survivors.
Guards stood watch, while other teams went through the wreckage and looked for more survivors.
Unfortunately, the survivors had been few and far between so far. He and the female were lucky to survive the explosion at such close range. No doubt, thanks to his armor protecting them both.
From what he’d heard from Adryel, it seemed more than just her leader had fallen off the platform, but so far, they were not sure who else went down.
Right now, this whole operation needed a leader, and it looked like Stron himself was a candidate.
Khalzin had been off the platform when the second blast hit, he’d rushed his mate to a secured location. So it fell to Stron now.
“Hey, Kantenan,” she called out.
He turned back. “What?”
“Thanks.” Her voice was soft, gentle.
“For?”
“Making sure I'm not dead.”
The words touched him. He blinked, bowed slightly, and crossed his hands over his chest as he did.
She smiled back at him.
He turned on his heel and walked away.
Because if he stayed and kept talking to her, he might decide that he liked her. And he was not interested in that. Not her, anyway, who’d already proven she was a pain in his backside.
She may have thanked him--in the most obnoxious way--and he did appreciate it, but he wouldn't be seeing her again. With all the coming chaos, he doubted there would be any time to speak to her again. Regardless if she was Khalzin's mate's friend.
Though he wasn't even sure about that--he could have been speaking to the wrong one. There might have been others with the same fiery hair that reminded him of the lava pits near the mining stations.
He'd only headed toward the female that drew him across the platform before the explosion. He had not thought about how she felt against him, her smell, and her feel, and how she drew out his armor, especially his back ridges, so easily. That must be a coincidence of circumstances.
From across the hall, Stron saw Patrie headed his way.
“Are you well?” she asked when she got closer to him.
He nodded. “I'm better now. Were you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I was in the back getting supplies when the first explosion happened and have been working to triage this banquet hall for the survivors.”
He cringed at the words. The survivors. It sickened him to think that was something that would need to be addressed today.
“Do we know how many casualties?” he asked.
Her gaze moved across the room, settling briefly on the cluster of foreign survivors near the far wall. Something in her expression shifted — just for a moment — before she looked back at him.
“My staff all seems healthy. The guards I think are well, from what I can tell. I saw Khalzin earlier leaving with his female,” she said the last of that with such disdain, it irritated Stron.
He looked away from her, scanning the crowd. “I see Dhomhes is holding a session over there,” he said, gesturing to his friend and the gaggle of females that surrounded him.
“Who is leading?” Patrie asked.
One of the guards approached him. “Gol-Vett, we need to speak about the status of things.”
Stron glanced at Patrie. “I suppose I am.” He let the guard lead him off to see what needed to be decided upon. Someone needed to take charge.
He turned back to the guard. “Tell me everything.”