Echoes of the Storm

Chapter 15

The monitor above Cloe's bunk pinged softly to the rhythm of her heartbeat. After the Roeda incident, Jack spent more hours at her side than in his own cabin. He'd gotten used to the pronounced thrum on Nightstorm's engineering level. The med bay was opposite the main ops panel and he regularly saw crew or Chief Redstone checking the instrumentation. The room was cramped, fitted with two beds and an examination table that did double-duty as an operating table. He refused to think about Cloe lying there bleeding, the gash on her head being stitched up by an engineer. But the chief had kept her alive, and the rosy glow on her cheeks wasn't fever, but a healthy peach.

Jack wrapped his fingers through hers and squeezed. Last night she'd surfaced from the unconscious state that held her. "Last time I let you decide the plan of attack," he'd told her. She smiled and then drifted off to a deep sleep.

The chief and Arlee checked in several times a day, interrupting Jack's one-way conversations. He had dissected Cloe's favorite vids and the actors they both found attractive. Rehashing old missions became his most talked-about topic. He spent nearly twice as much time on those, even when Norse's name surfaced too many times. If he was looking for clues about his former lover's deception, he didn't find any.

"Remember the intel on the sig relay station at North seven-seven?" he asked her. "It came through Ar—through Norse. He almost died when we took it down. I saved him. Was it all a set up? Colonists, Cloe! How many times did he dupe us?"

There was only silence from Cloe. If she hadn't been sleeping it would have been a different story. Jack smiled. He'd actually prefer a stern lecture, just to hear her voice. He squeezed her hand and kept talking.

"Did you put her back to sleep?" Arlee asked behind him.

Jack hadn't heard him and was glad he hadn't been telling Cloe his game plan for contacting the resistance.

"Probably," Jack said over his shoulder.

"She looks better than yesterday, you know, there's color in her cheeks." Arlee sounded genuinely concerned. "Chief told me she was—"

The ship's comm crackled, announcing Nightstorm's approach to Argolas.

"That's what I came down to tell you," Arlee said. "And that Captain Stone would like to speak with you."

What, no order?

"I figured he'd just have me escorted off his ship," Jack said a bit sharply, and immediately regretted it. Maybe he'd find it in himself to admit he'd been out of line, but an apology from Stone might be nice after their argument. There would be conversation, whatever that entailed. He'd lost five days on the freighter. Five days he could have spent with the Riga, preparing for a return to Torredo with ships, soldiers, and weapons.

"Well, you figured wrong," Arlee said. "He's a good guy. He just might surprise you." He studied Jack like he was examining a strange piece of meat. Jealous? No. He had Stone's interests at heart as a friend, not a lover. Stone had made it clear he didn't have those types of relationships with his crew.

"I'll be out of his hair soon, and glad to get on with my mission."

Arlee grunted. "Follow me," he said and turned to leave.

Jack caught his arm. "Thanks for looking in on Cloe. She's in good hands here."

Arlee looked past Jack at the small form on the bed. "We'll get her to a real doctor in just a few more days. I...I'm glad she'll be all right and hasn't decided to slit all our throats for that stupid stunt when you arrived."

"Your engineer saved her life." It still gave Jack a lump in his throat to think she could've died.

"That he did." Arlee tipped his head. "Bridge?"