[Makebelieve] Fic: Brothers of the Blood: Mark of Cain 5 (please crit)

[makebelieve archive]

Okay guys, if anyone is reading this, please tell me if this is working. or
if its too flat for words.
Previous chapters can be found at
http://www.squidge.org/peja/cgi-bin/viewstory.php?sid=37198&warning=FRM


*CHAPTER FIVE*

Watching Domani scramble, a bit unsteadily, off the broken deck, Ian
considered the Medusan legends of morbid retaliation with detached interest.
Could the tales be based in fact? Was it possible the dead might really
raise to torment those men they judged murderers? And if so, had he managed
to survive the crash, only to be destroyed by a vengeful spirit?

Primitive dread tripped a merry little jig down the path of his spine. His
trembling hand edged toward the holstered gun at his waist.

Ignorant to the wild, tortured thoughts passing through his friend's mind,
Domani surveyed the damage on the bridge. "What a mess," he said suddenly,
his full, pale lips curling with distaste. AHe slanted Ian a sly glance
adding, "If the commander has survived, Ian, my dear friend, you are going
to have to talk fast on this one."

Relief flickered in Ian's jade eyes. The man before him was truly alive. Not
the vengeful spirit of his imagination. "Be telling me about it, why do ye
na?"

Domani turned to face him. A trace of mild curiosity ghosted his burnished
gaze. "Ian, are you injured?"

Ian offered a weak grin. "Well..." his voice cracked, betraying his
distraught emotional state. He hesitated, licking parched lips before he
began again. "If the evidence of my senses is to be believed, I am still
alive, I guess 'tis just fine I'm doing."

Domani's startling gaze traced Ian searchingly before he gave a curt,
unconvinced nod. "In that case, you are fine, my friend, because I assure
you, you are indeed alive."

"I be thanking you for confirming that, at least." Ian heaved a shuddering
sigh, pressing his hands against the flight module to force the shake out of
them. "Glad to hear it, I am." His haunted glance traced the smoldering,
twisted bridge, stopping on his fallen companions.

The forced calm he was clinging to by mental fingernails imploded,
propelling liquid fear through in his veins. "Check the others, Domani. 'Tis
thinking I am, they got the worst of it."

Domani eyed him a long moment before nodding and unsnapping the oblong,
hand-held medical scanner that seemed almost a permanent fixture at his
waist. Bending low over one body after another, he repeatedly ran the
scanner, verifying life signs, determining the extent of their injuries.

Finally, he stood and clinically surveyed the injured with only his eyes.

"You'll be telling me who we lost," Ian demanded anxiously when Domani at
last joined him. "Senia...?"

"You're woman lives, Ian. All those I have checked are alive. You are to be
congratulated."

"Nay deaths?"

"None."

"Their injuries? Be they serious? What's the prognosis?"

"Not very serious, actually. Granted, they all suffer from mild to moderate
concussion. There are a few minor lacerations. I can easily deal with the
injuries."

"And Dal? I dinna see you scan him. He was no badly hurt?"

"The commander does trouble me." Domani's silver gaze moved over the bridge.
"I have not located him. I fear he has been buried under the rubble."

Ian's gaze swept the destruction once more. "You're thinking he be buried in
this mess? Ah, sweet Judes," he moaned, running trembling fingers over his
mouth. "We've got to locate him. Dig him out. Dammit, mon, scan for life
readings. If I have killed the mon he will never let me live it down."

Nodding, Domani tweaked the scanner's controls and moved the softly humming
instrument in a slow arc. "There. Fath....He is there. Beneath the science
console."

Turning on his heel, Ian realized the seat Dalton had occupied in the flight
down had been torn from its moorings and lie sprawled on its side. The
chair, in turn, had been covered by other varied bits and pieces of dirt and
debris.

A limp hand, only a couple fingers in reality, protruded from under the
bulky heap.

"'Tis he alive?"

"Heart and brainwave activity are quite strong given the circumstances. But
we must free him."

"'Tis safe? Moving that stuff off him, I mean?"

"The choices are rather restricted, my friend."

"Let's be doing it, then." Not waiting for his friend's agreement, Ian
kicked at some scattered fittings, clearing a path, and picked his way
across the bridge to the science station.

Taking a moment to figure the best course of action, he leaned his tightly
muscled shoulder into the seat and, ignoring the sharp protest in his chest,
pushed. The chair fell away, revealing an awkwardly twisted body, clothed in
stark, torn, black, lying amid the debris.

A cold shiver coiled the base of Ian's spine as he studied the usually
invulnerable man laid out and helpless before his haunted eyes. The only
visible sign Dalton was alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

It seemed an unsettling omen.

"Will ye be checking him, Domani? Or would ye rather I handle this one?"

Domani hurled a silencing glare in his direction, then padded across the
bridge and knelt over their commander, his scanner humming.

Unable to contain his pagan anxieties, Ian wrenched misery-filled eyes from
Dalton's limp body and stomped away, not letting his wayward glance steal
back to the distressing image.

He could not yet face the reality of that particular man unconscious. Not
yet.

"Ian, his condition is the same as the others," Domani said softly, pushing
to his feet gracefully.

"'Tis sure you're being?"

"I am certain, my friend. The commander will recover."

Ian swallowed hard, nodding. "Judes, we got off easy. But I'm thinking we be
no out of it yet."

"You sense danger?"

Ian waved a long arm to encompass the crumpled bridge. "I do na need to
sense anything when common sense will work just as well."

He knocked a mound of jagged debris away from the smoking science station
before punching a rapid code into the panel, demanding the computer give
them a report of the ship's status. The terminal remained dark, inactive.
"There be nay power to the system." Ian twisted his head around, glancing
over his shoulder. "'Tis one casualty we have after all, Domani."

the other man arched a curious brow.

"The ship, mon. The ship is right dead for sure."

"The ship is not human, Ian."

"Nay human?" Ian lifted his brow. "'Tis how you measure life now, is it? By
being human? You?"

Domani shrugged. "Most men do."

"Aye. I be taking your point," Ian said, grabbing the thick leather strap of
the large medical kit suspended from a wall mount. He popped the mount and
let the bag drop. It hit the floor with a gentle thump.

"'Tis na' safe staying here. The Hellequin could blow even with the coolants
flowing." His searching gaze found and traveled along a minor line that
spewed steaming vapors into the air. "That's assuming the system is still
operational. 'Tis thinking, I am, the lines could easily have ruptured in
the crash.

Domani's gaze traced the broken lines himself and he nodded. "We had better
move our people out if we intend to keep them breathing."

Ian nodded toward the emergency exit. "Aye, my thoughts exactly. Be checking
the hatch, will ya?"

"As you wish." Domani crossed cautiously to the escape hatch on silent feet.
Bending over the exit, he sequenced the release code.

While Domani was busy with the hatch, Ian continued his slow circuit of the
bridge. He stopped suddenly, groaning deep in his throat. His beloved
Yessenia lay sprawled at his feet. Ian dragged his eyes pointedly away from
her body. There was no doubt in his mind that sight of his woman's injuries
might easily push him over the edge. And he could not risk losing the
already weak hold he had on his control.

Steering his thoughts firmly away from Yessenia, he squatted down and
rummaged through the shattered fittings of Communications. "Judes, Domani,
'tis is some kind of sight, is it nay?" He tossed a handful of mutilated
fittings back onto the floor and sighed. "That landing was a bad one. A damn
bad one."

"I am afraid I must agree." Domani knelt down on one knee and opened a panel
near the hatch. "The door is jammed. Need to check the wiring."

"In all honestly, I be nay surprised." A reckless grin spread slowly over
Ian's face. "'Twas damn lucky we were, Domani, my friend."

Domani swiveled from the waist, arching his brow. "That is the second time
you mentioned luck, Ian. I must advise you not to resort to luck as the
turning force when the commander asks for your report."

Ian chuckled, fingering the silver ankh around his neck. "Mayhap luck isna
the word I'd choose in the report. But you know, if I was a God-fearing man,
I'd well be inclined to believe we rode the ship down in His hands. As I'm
no..."

The thin brow shot up. "You're not?"

Scowling blackly, Ian's hand dropped away from the ankh. "Nay, I'm no.
Medusan's be nay godly people, per se. Do ye ken? So it follows, 'tis I who
should get all the credit. Do ye nay think that would leave the boss
properly impressed?"

Closing the panel, Domani ran a dubious look over the commander.
"Impressed?" He shook his head. "I rather doubt it, Ian."

"Aye, 'tis right you are. I'm guessing Dalton will find some way to lay the
blame for this whole fiasco squarely on my wee, fragile shoulders."

"That I do not doubt," Domani said, turning his attention back to the hatch.
He tapped the release. The door remained stubbornly secured. He pressed the
release again, more forcefully. The hatch still refused to open.

Watching from the crumpled Operations console, Ian hunched forward and
leaned his elbow on a sloping bend that had been twisted into the surface,
resting his chin lazily on his fist. An undefeated gleam of humor lit up his
jade eyes. "Try kicking it open mayhap." He tilted his head slightly.
"Unless you're wanting me to give it a try?"

Domani threw an evil glare over his shoulder, then reopened the panel and
roughly poked a finger amongst the offending circuits.

"Oh, aye, there you go. Beat up on that bleeding circuitry."

Frowning darkly, Domani stood and braced his feet apart, then shifted his
weight back on his hips in an effort to better his balance. He kicked out
violently, planting a booted foot against the malfunctioning hatch, striking
near the defective locking mechanism. The door groaned, giving slightly, but
remained tenaciously closed.

"'Tis in me mind, you look dangerously close to a temper tantrum, old sot,"
Ian commented casually. "Can ye, being you, have temper tantrums?"

Domani's brows lowered even more in an expression that looked decidedly
painful. "No."

"Glad I am to hear it." He glanced around, then added with a overly
melodramatic sigh, "'Tis a right shame Paris was knocked cold," A wicked
grin played over his pale lips. "He could have gotten the hatch open without
a problem."

Domani growled under his breath and whirled, delivering a high-powered,
spinning kick. There was a sudden tearing of metal and the hatch came away
from its hinges, clattering thunderously against the battered hull.

Sighing contentedly, Domani was apparently well pleased with the results.
"It only takes a little precision," he said softly, gesturing with a bow to
the opened hatch. "A little determination."

Ian nodded, quirking his left brow. "So I see, my friend. Aye, indeed. So I
see."

Domani's harsh glare burnt through the pilot. "I am glad you do."

Ian held his hands before him, chuckling. "I concede. But I'm thinking tis a
right good thing ye canna display temper. No if that was a show of calm."

"Ian...."

"A joke. A joke," Ian said quickly. Then, "Let's get our people out of here,
what say?"

He bent down without waiting for an answer and grasped Arissa in his strong
hands. His shoulders bunched as he hefted her into his arms. And that was as
far as he got. A fiery stab of agony clutched his chest in a vicious
hammerlock. He crumpled to his knees, letting his precious burden slip back
onto the floor.

"Damn me," he groaned, gasping shallowly in an effort to capture a breath.
"Oh, bloody damn."

Domani was instantly at his side, the medical scanner in his hand.

Ian shoved the offensive bit of equipment away. "You'll nay be going at me
with that devil's toy."

"Ian, I must...."

"Nay. Just let me...." He laid his hand firmly against his chest and gave a
gentle push. Ribs shifted under his fingers, grinding against each other
like sandpaper rubbing against raw and exposed nerves. His groan was one of
pure anguish. "Ah, bloody wonderful."

"You have been injured."

Ian drew a ragged breath. "And what's giving ye the first clue?" He met
Domani's worried eyes, trying a weak smile. It failed miserably. "Feels like
I busted up a couple of ribs. God's truth, I honestly dinna realize until I
tried to lift bonnie Arissa out of here."

He touched his chest lightly, careful not to jostle tender ribs. "The pain
must have been dulled by shock."

Domani studied Ian slowly. "Golden hour," he decided aloud. "It has passed
by now. Do you require I bind your ribs before I transport you?"

Ian grunted, forcing himself out of the protective slump, and stood upright,
causing beads of sweat to burst out over his lip. "I can manage," he said
stubbornly through gnashing teeth as the wash of scorching pain rippled over
his chest.

Domani shook his head. "Not this time. I will evacuate the crew. When I have
gotten them to ground, I will return to assist you."

"Do ye nay listen? I said I could manage."

"Dalton would not appreciate the attempt if it resulted in more extensive
injuries." Domani gently laid his hand on Ian's arm, offering silent
assurance. "You have been wounded, Ian. From what I can see, your injuries
are far more troublesome than the rest. Wait here for my help."

"Aye, aye, Captain Domani," he called after his friend's retreating back.

Left to his private thoughts, Ian was suddenly overwhelmed by a dark sense
of loss.

He would miss these familiar halls. Hellequin held a special place within
him. A special affection reserved for home.

Now where had that thought come from? The very idea was sheer folly. He'd
been dragged kicking and screaming from his home a long time ago. This was
just a damn star rover. How in the hell had this ship become so damn
important to him?

It was ludicrous. But the feelings were still there.

"You got us down, Hellequin, my lady," he whispered, running his hand
tenderly over the shattered Operations console. "We're safe. You can go to
your rest easy on that account, old friend. We owe you. Our lives, and so
much more."

"Ian," Domani said softly at his elbow. "It is time I got you out of here."

Ian nodded, tracing a glance over the destroyed bridge one last time.

It was time to leave.

Time to bury this respected old friend.

"Let's get the hell out of here, Domani."
end part 5

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