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Had that bastard just tripped Fal’ran?
“If he can’t use his legs, he doesn’t deserve them.” The Squad L soldier bared his teeth back and stepped into Bar’in’s space to accentuate his height. “Utili was twice—”
“Utili should have run his legs a little faster if he wanted to keep them.” Bar’in tossed his chin, his cutting snark surfacing stronger in the face of the soldier’s weak intimidation.
“Bar’in,” Patrick snapped. “Rein it in.” The man wasn’t even here to defend himself and would never walk on his own two feet again, for god’s sake.
“Or he should have at least run in a different direction,” Sazahk added, his voice mild and his skin sanguine, but his eyes sharp. “He knew the mines were there, didn’t he? He did place them. Or did you place them? Were they meant as traps or were your skills simply so lacking in your inexperience that you—”
“Sazahk!” Patrick waded between the two groups. “Enough. All of you. Where the fuck is your captain?”
The limp gatlung of an officer stood at the top of the gangway, looking back at the altercation with a queasy expression. “Break it up,” the coward choked out after locking eyes with Patrick. “Break it up and get on the transport.”
The soldiers of Squad L didn’t back down until Tar released Fal’ran’s collar and took up a threatening position at Bar’in’s back. They eyed him, then sneered one last time at Bar’in and Fal’ran before tromping up the ramp.
Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh and waved his team up, too. “Go on. Get on the other side of the transport, though. I don’t want a repeat.”
In all honesty, he was more proud than mad. Did he love their tendency to start fights? No. But jumping into a fight to defend one of their own? That was progress.
One aggressive posture had been missing, though.
Patrick finally inspected Fal’ran as they filed into their seats. The younger man kept his eyes on his seat belt as he buckled it, then dropped it on the floor between his feet. If someone had tripped him a month ago, he’d have choked them out in the dirt before Patrick could react. But that had been before he’d been—even indirectly—responsible for the loss of another man’s limb.
Learning how quickly things could go so wrong, and how badly one could fuck things up, was a hard lesson. Patrick remembered when he’d learned it. His nightmares still echoed with the screams of civilians from the house he’d thought he’d cleared.
Patrick put his hand on Fal’ran’s shoulder and squeezed. He wouldn’t undercut the lesson by pretending Fal’ran had done nothing wrong, or that everything would be alright. The fact was, a man had lost his leg, Patrick had lost his rank, and his team had lost a chance at respect. But he wanted Fal’ran to know that it didn’t make Patrick or his team care for him any less.
He shifted his hand to the nape of Fal’ran’s neck and when Fal’ran flicked those burnt-orange eyes up to him, Patrick didn’t look away. He gave him a soft smile and Fal’ran returned it before returning his eyes to the ground.
That was good enough. Patrick pressed his thigh against Fal’ran’s and Fal’ran pressed back, and that was better. The kid would be alright. Hell, the kid would be better than alright. Even the best made mistakes, and Patrick didn’t doubt Fal’ran would be one of the best.
Three more squads packed into the transport, and the ship roared to life over the sounds of buckles clicking and straps tightening.
“Can we help you?” Bar’in took on defense duty, snapping and glaring at anyone who dared to look at them wrong. Patrick huffed a laugh when the klah’eel across the aisle quickly averted his eyes.
Tar didn’t have the words and Bar’in didn’t have the size, but together they formed a force to be reckoned with. Eventually, everyone on the transport got the message that it wasn’t open season on dirty looks for Patrick or Fal’ran, and they rocketed out of Klah’s orbit in silence.
While their defense of their teammate made Patrick proud, and it was a relief to have the eyes come off him, something about Tar, Bar’in, and Sazahk’s actions made his gut churn with anxiety.
“Sazahk, look.” Bar’in nudged Sazahk and nodded to the porthole at the end of their row after they broke out of Klah’s atmosphere.
“Is that Base Ship Givast?” Sazahk strained against his straps to peer around the barrel chests of the klah’eel closer to the window.
“That’s her.” Patrick only needed a glimpse of the behemoth floating in Klah’s orbit to recognize it.
“Does her gravity affect the moon?” Sazahk’s collarbones colored with light green streaks. “What about the tides?”
“You’ll have to ask someone else.” Patrick had never considered the questions.
Sazahk scoffed and grumbled something that sounded like complaining about soldier boys. He leaned back in his seat as the transport turned its nose to Givast and the base disappeared from the window.
When the transport slowed, Patrick pulled his fancy qeshian tablet from his pocket and synced it to the base ship’s clock. “Alright team, Base Ship Givast leaves at high speed for the Qeshian System in less than an hour. Anyone not strapped down and pumped full of chemicals for the g’s is dead, so we don’t have time for the tour.”
Sazahk made a disappointed sound and Patrick shot him a smile as he put his tablet back in his pocket.
“There will be plenty of tour time later.”
“Think of it this way, Sazahk.” Bar’in knocked his boot against Sazahk’s. “The sooner we get to Qesha, the sooner you learn more about the Insects.”
