Page 13 of Starfighter’s Salvation

Dekker and Corvan both stared at me, waiting for an answer. Shit. "Thank you, Dekker. I will go with Corvan, for now." I wanted to know what else he had to say to me. If anything. Maybe he was a lost cause, just like my heart.

"As you wish. I will be on the Arturri moon base, Georgina. If he dishonors you again, come for me. I will not be difficult to find.” Dekker walked up the ramp toward the street. Once he was gone, the garage got a lot bigger, and I was alone with a man who had come for me four days late and still hadn’t said the one thing I was waiting to hear. No I want you, or I'm so happy to see you, or I lo---. Nope. Stopping that thought cold.

“Now tell me why you’re late,” I said. “The real reason. Not the bullshit you just told Dekker.”

He inhaled sharply, as if I'd slapped him across the face. Part of me wished I had. Took him a few seconds, but he recovered. Mostly. “Velerion is at war. Queen Raya and the Dark Fleet are real and very dangerous enemies. Your training missions were based on actual battles. You have been awarded the rank of Elite Starfighter and paired with me as part of an elite combat rescue team with high casualty rates.”

“What kind of rescue team, exactly? Isn't the training just like the game?”

“How many times was your avatar killed in those simulations? You made it through once, and now you want to rush into real danger?"

He wasn't wrong. And I'd died a lot on those game missions. A lot. In real life I'd only get one fuck up and I'd be dead for real.

"Our missions are very dangerous. We enter active combat zones and pull our people out of exploding ships or bases that are on fire. Sometimes the enemy is shooting at us. I can't keep you safe if you come to Velerion with me. I need you to understand.”

“I understand.” The missions he was describing were a lot of what the simulated game missions had been about. Kind of like disaster rescue, or combat field medic. Except the aliens didn't need the medics or firefighters to be able to throw a two-hundred-pound alien on her back and carry them out. They had drones for that. Robotics. My job in the game was generally triage and decision making and going in when the sensors couldn't get a good enough read on a situation. "And you think it's too dangerous for me?"

"Yes. I prefer not to risk your life. Our war is not your war. You should remain here. Find a mate. Have children. Live to be an old woman."

"That's not your decision to make." It was mine. And I'd already made it.

He sighed. “We need to get going. I received a communication on the way to Earth. Yesterday, a Titan team and an engineering convoy were attacked in the Ferros Trench on Xenon. We don't know how many, but we know survivors may still be alive behind enemy lines. Command requires a combat rescue medic accompany me on the mission. The program selected you.”

“Then we’re done talking. Let's go.” I slung the go-bag over my shoulder. Corvan stared at it.

“You packed.”

“Four days ago.” Asshole. Four fucking days ago.

Guilt crossed his face again. Good. Let it. He opened his mouth to say… something.

“Save it,” I lifted my hand, palm out. I was mad at him right now, and not in the mood to hear more about how he didn't think I was qualified to make my own life choices. “We’ll fight about it later. Right now, you have wounded waiting for a ride and a nurse.”

“You do not understand the danger.”

“I work trauma in downtown Denver. I’ve been shot at twice, bitten six times, and proposed to by a man with a fork in his neck. Explain it on the way.” I held out my arm. “Some of the subreddits mentioned an implant or injection?” God, I loved all those conspiracy theorist nuts right about now. Too bad I didn't have time to go type in a few updates for them.

“There is a cipher injection. The nanotech allows language translation in your brain and prepares your body for transit.”

“How is it you are speaking my language?”

“I've been watching and listening to you and your friends for months.”

“Ah. Okay. Give me the injection. And please hurry up. I don't like needles.” A nurse who didn't like needles. Lame? Yes. Still true. They were a necessary evil as far as I was concerned, but definitely evil.

Another slow blink from him. I was going to enjoy teasing him. Eventually. He took the go-bag’s strap off my shoulder and I let him. If he had suddenly decided to be a gentleman, who was I to argue? His hand brushed mine, and the mark flared hot enough to make me gasp. A line drawn in fire from my neck to my core. His eyes changed, dilated with desire. Lust. Want. No question now. The look he gave me was hot as hell and had all kinds of sexy promises buried in those gray eyes.

Dekker’s hand on my shoulder hadn’t had that effect. Noted. Then again, was it really me and Corvan? Or was it the so-called 'bondmark' on my neck? If I 'bonded' to Dekker, would his touch have the same effect?

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“No.” Just overheated.

“You have a fever.”

“You can diagnose me after the alien kidnapping.”

“This is not a kidnapping.”