Training the Warrior (17 page)

“Excellent plan,” Jarrok grumbled.

Taelor went back to the control station.
The security officer on duty jumped up, startled by his sudden return.

“Order blankets and extra bedding from
ship’s stores. And send a med-tech. We need some basic instruments. Contact the
galley. I want hot meals sent down, no prison rations. Tell the cook to send a
case of his private stock to the brig. If he acts as if he doesn’t understand
then tell him I’ll come to the galley and explain it to him in person.”

“Yes, dharjen, I’ll take care of it right
away,” the young spacer assured.

Taelor stomped back down the hallway,
fuming. Did everyone on board know about him now?

As usual, his family disrupted his
carefully planned life. Ever since his mate had taken her own life, he’d tried
to lose himself in his world. An unmated warrior’s life was simple, straight
forward. Kill the enemy whenever possible, indulge in pleasure as often as
possible and stay loyal to the clan. The simplicity of his existence kept him
sane. Family drove him crazy.

No matter how much he missed his mate, he
was thankful they’d never had younglings. Norlana refused to conceive. Her
excuse was reasonable. She wanted him to be involved with their children, to be
there for them, not off on some mission where he might die in battle. He
supported her decision. For fifteen years he’d been completely happy, mated to
his claimed female. He believed she was content also. He’d loved her. Her death
still confused him, plagued him with doubts. There had been no warning. She’d
poisoned herself while he was away on a mission. The pain sliced into him every
day when he awoke. The past year had been torture.

And now he was forced to return to
Fortress. Attor may or may not survive his blading. Taelor hated that he and
Jarrok would have to dissolve their partnership. For five years, he’d trained
Young Jarrok, teaching him everything he knew. And Jarrok had been there for
him when Norlana had died. They were a good team.

Commander Kellan had aided them in their
efforts to avoid Fortress after Taelor had lost his mate. In a few short years,
Taelor would have enough seniority to demand a reassignment and he wanted to be
stationed on Taura Major or Taura Prime. He’d hoped to bring Jarrok with him.
For the first time in his career, Taelor intended on using his status to gain a
position of honor for himself and his partner. As dharjen, the son of the supreme
chancellor, he could pick and choose his assignments. Jarrok was entering his
prime mating years. Unlike most mated warriors, his partner would be able to
keep his future mate close to him. And if Taelor had the misfortune of claiming
another female, he’d never let her stray from his side. Fate had ruined his
plans.

Taelor stared down at young Attor. His
nephew slept peacefully. The bouts of pain came in waves. Vaguely, he
remembered how his own forearms had ached, but he couldn’t recall a single
moment that had led up to his blading. How could a memory of something so pivotal
to his existence be lost?

“Jarrok!” Taelor barked out to his partner,
not caring whether the male was asleep or awake.

“Umph. What?”

His partner’s attitude was typical. Taelor
didn’t care. “Do you remember anything about the fever or your blading?”

A string of mumbled curses answered his question.
Taelor stomped into the cell where Jarrok tried to sleep. He eased down onto
the hard floor, leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out to
relax.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Jarrok
sat up, fully awake now.

“Yes. Seven years ago you went through your
own blading. Do you remember anything?”

Jarrok groaned and sank back down on his
stack of mattresses. He huffed out an annoyed sigh. After a few moments, he
hummed a pleasant growl. “I remember what happened after my blading.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I’m trying to think.”

Several silent seconds passed. “You asleep
again?”

“No.”

“Well?”

Jarrok chuckled.

“Focus!” Taelor ordered.

“Oh, I am focused.”

“I’m sure you are.” They both snickered.

Between chuckles, Jarrok blurted, “I’m trying,
but all I can remember was how the teacher held me. Her hands were soft. And
she—”

“I don’t want to hear about your second
squirt,” Taelor complained.

“Then stop asking!”

“You’re no help, anyway.” Taelor stood and
stomped off to his own stack of mattresses.

* * * *

Hours later, they were roused from their
sleep by Attor’s howls. Taelor beat Jarrok to the young warrior’s side by a few
seconds. He placed his hand on the male’s face to test his temperature. Attor
struggled as if trying to escape from his torture. His skin was hot and dry,
still feverish.

Taelor huffed out a relieved breath.
Attor’s temperature was high. Every hour counted, bringing them closer to
Fortress and the teachers who could help the young warrior. If his fever held,
his chances of survival increased. If not, they were prepared.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught
Taelor’s attention. A Tauran male came into view. He carried a medium-sized
case.

“You wanted some medical instruments?”

Taelor motioned for him to enter the cell. “A
thermometer would be most helpful.”

The male opened his bag. He drew out a flat
metal disc about the size of his palm and handed it to Taelor. “That’s a
thermal analyzer. It can monitor his temperature remotely.”

Taelor exchanged looks with Jarrok before
passing the disc back to the Tauran male. “Make it analyze,” he said.

The med-tech attached a tiny metallic dot
to Attor’s forehead. He pressed a few controls on the larger disc before
handing it back to Taelor.

“It’s recording. The readout appears on the
face of the disc.”

Taelor turned the disc over and there on
the surface a digital image appeared. Attor’s temperature was soaring. Good.

“Did you bring any other supplies?” Jarrok
asked.

The Tauran male’s business-like expression
changed instantly. A broad grin spread across his face.

“Everything you ordered is waiting back at
the control station. Our cook was happy to send his best stock.”

“I bet he was.” Jarrok snorted.

“Excellent.” Taelor clapped the med-tech on
the shoulder before escorting him out of Attor’s cell. “Retrieve them!”

It wasn’t long before they were feasting
and drinking, sharing their bounty with the med-tech. The male happily offered
to stay and help young Attor in any way possible. Taelor and Jarrok encouraged
him, knowing full well the Tauran male would soon be passed out in a drunken
stupor. Warriors were practically immune to alcohol, which was why they always
drank to excess. For them, it was the only way to capture a buzz.

The tech slept soundly a few hours later.
His snoring didn’t seem to bother Jarrok, who was once again asleep on his
makeshift bed. Taelor had volunteered for first watch. He sat on the floor near
Attor, monitoring his temperature. The disc flashed if the temperature changed
otherwise it displayed the young warrior’s fever—a hundred and eight degrees.
The disc hadn’t flashed for four hours.

Taelor had tried to make his nephew as
comfortable as possible by sliding a pillow beneath his head and covering him
with a blanket, but Attor still shivered occasionally as he moaned in pain. His
body continued to change. When he and Jarrok had first seen him lying on the
cell floor, Attor’s muscles hadn’t been as defined as they were now. Jarrok’s
opinion was the young warrior was somewhere in the middle of his change. Taelor
wished he knew more. An idea came to him. The handlers at the citadel might be
able to help them gauge Attor’s progress more accurately. Just when he’d
convinced himself to leave the cell and send a request to Fortress, Attor
opened his eyes. The irises were an unusual shade of pale tan. Not many warriors
had such light-colored eyes.

“Where…?” The question caught in Attor’s
parched throat.

Taelor grabbed his own flask of water.
Elevating Attor’s head, he pressed the opening to his cracked lips and let a
small amount of water flow into the young male’s mouth. Attor swallowed and
strained up for more. Taelor tipped the flask, letting him guzzle down several
huge gulps. His last swallow ended with a moan. Taelor eased his head back down
onto the pillow.

“You’re on the battle cruiser,
Avenger
.
We’re taking you to Fortress.” He hoped his explanation made sense to the young
warrior.

Attor’s body trembled violently. Taelor
couldn’t tell if it was due to the cool water or if his fever had spiked again.
He checked the disc. It flashed. The monitor read a hundred and seven, a drop
of one degree. Maybe it was the water, Taelor hoped. The monitor stopped
flashing and held at that temperature.

“My mother?”

So typical
. Taelor scowled. “She’s
on this ship, banished to her quarters. I’m her brother. My partner and I are
here to help you.”

“Taelor.” Attor grimaced after he spoke. He
groaned in pain once again before his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

Just as well, Taelor thought. It was time
for Jarrok to wake up and stand watch anyway. As if on cue, his partner
shuffled into the cell and crouched beside him.

“Any change?”

“He awoke for a few moments before you came
in. He asked a couple questions. I gave him some water and he went down again.
His fever is still high.” Taelor stood and stretched. He yawned as he strode
out the cell doorway. “Let me know if his temperature drops.”

“Easy enough,” his partner said.

The last thing Taelor remembered was
falling down onto his own stack of mattresses in his cell.

He was running, dragging in deep breaths of
scorching air. An entire battalion of Tauran troops surged up the tallest
hillside in the middle of a barren desert. Soldiers shouted, some cried out in
pain. It seemed as if blaster fire was coming at them from all directions, but
Taelor couldn’t stop. He and Jarrok had to reach the bunker up ahead before the
alliance forces. If they failed, the Taurans would lose their only advantage on
the ground.

The bunker was occupied by a small group of
native forces who tried to hold the position. Ero was a rim planet close to the
alliance border, too strategic to be ignored and too wasted to be desired.
Nevertheless, it was the “bone of the day” over which two powerful empires
fought.

The major battle took place above their
heads, in orbit. Whoever won would ultimately control Ero. The natives wanted
the Taurans to win. They also wanted them to leave as soon as possible. It was
a win-win situation. The Taurans couldn’t wait to leave the dismal little
desert planet, right after they established an outpost. Mostly an automated
facility, it would keep track of alliance activity in that sector.

Taelor heard Jarrok’s pounding footsteps
coming closer behind him. His partner fought for each breath he took. A thermal
explosion hit behind both of them, launching a volley of sand and rock in every
direction. Hot debris rained down on him. Jarrok wasted air by cursing. The
first blast of heat washed over Taelor. He was close enough to make a dive for
the entrance—now.

Cool shade enveloped him as he avoided the
second hotter blast. His eyes were crusted with sand so he felt and smelled
Jarrok land beside him. Another scent threw him into full assault mode. While
blinking, he fisted a sword in one hand and a dagger in another before
releasing his blades. It took a split second. The smell of native blood was all
around him along with the stench of alliance soldiers.

The first male he killed was hunkered down
next to the bunker’s thick wall to avoid the heat blast. The enemy soldier
pulled up a hand blaster. Taelor sliced his sword through the man’s arm before
he could fire off a shot. A quick sword thrust through the male’s neck ended
him as two more alliance soldiers rushed forward. They were armed with daggers,
no blasters.
Idiots.
They meant to overpower him? He killed one almost
instantly with a single swipe of his sword, slitting the man’s throat. The
other he grappled with. The male dropped his dagger and howled in pain as
Taelor crushed his wrist with one hand. He shut him up with a quick upper
thrust from his free arm. The white blade lanced deep into the soft skin of his
neck. A powerful down swipe jabbed the sharp tip of his re-curve into the
male’s chest, straight to his heart.

“Jarrok?” Taelor searched the room as he
tossed his enemy to the floor.

He heard a grunt and followed the sound.
Jarrok was at the back of the bunker, finishing off the last member of their
opposition.

“We have that heat bomb to thank for our
survival,” Jarrok said as he threaded his way around the lifeless bodies strewn
on the floor. “They couldn’t see us coming.”

Taelor grunted in agreement as he wiped
blood and dirt from his eyes. “The alliance got a few soldiers here first.
Guess we fixed that.”