14
Trist, Battleship Zakar
I never imagined being slung over the shoulder of a Trion trying to save my ass in battle. I hurt everywhere, but at the same time, not one specific spot was more painful than another. The haste with which Brax moved to get me to the med unit jostled my destroyed body, knocked the air from my lungs. The pain wasn’t as bad as when I was first hit with the plasma bomb, but only because my skin had been burned off and no doubt the nerves were dead. Black dots filled my vision of the floor as well as Brax’s ass, both of which made me want to pass out. I felt blood trickle down my leg, warm against the chill of my skin. I was dying. I was a warrior. I was prepared for my demise.
But not now. Not today. Things weren’t set in place. As primary mate, I hadn’t seen to
