Page 43 of Warrior's Captive
“I don’t have a body shield.”
“You do. Tai’ri upgraded your unit two days ago. Repeat the sequence after me.”
She couldn’t rely on the translator, she had to actually speak the Yadeshi words in their language. Her tongue tripped over the guttural syllables, but she’d been studying the language manually for two weeks and it only took her three times to adjust her pronunciation.
A shield sprang up around her body, a shimmer of bright green light.
“Now go to Banujani,” Vykhan said.
She pushed to her feet, deactivated the door lock mechanism the way her guard had demonstrated, and walked as fast as she could. She forced herself to breathe evenly, so her fear didn’t affect her baby and reminded herself that none of this was her fault, she still owed these people a debt of gratitude for their protection.
Steeling her spine, gathering courage fueled by anger, she stepped outside and ran to the crumpled body several feet away. Finally, she could do something, even if it was so little and so late.
Banujani lay unmoving on her back, one arm flung over her eyes, another flung out with her weapon nearby.
As she approached, Banujani turned her head slightly. “What the—”
“Shush.” The shield around her body flared, expanded over Banujani, but even Vivian could tell by the color that it hadn’t been made to protect two people. It was thin; weak. Hopefully it would be enough.
Crouching was a problem, equally so with bending. Accomplishing movement, to be specific, was not what it used to be with a five-to-seven pound baby lodged in one’s groin.
Somehow Vivian managed to grab the weapon in the dazed woman’s fingers and placed herself in front of her injured guard. Banujani’s eyes sharpened for a split second before they went fuzzy again. Vivian knew that if the guard hadn’t recognized Vivian somehow, she would have roused herself, despite what looked like a serious head injury and rapidly increasing blood loss.
The silence, after the jarring sounds of battle, seduced Vivian into wanting to pretend they were safe. And then she realized silence meant people who were dead or unconscious.
Heads began to emerge from behind tables, from around walls, anywhere people had taken cover. A general din rose, the urgent shouts and conversation of people in an emergency.
“Eh, miss, maybe you should—”
She swung the weapon, the dangerous end hopefully, towards the man who inched closer. He held up his hands and jumped away.
“Stay back,” she snarled.
“Got it. Absolutely staying away. Except we don’t know quite what it is you’re holding, and it looks dangerous. You’re pregnant. You sure you want to be holding that thing?”
A crowd was gathering, people emerging from their hiding spaces as the shock of the sudden attack faded. The bodies were gone of course, but the blood and . . . detritus . . . remained.
Banujani whispered.
Without taking her eyes off the crowd, Vivian kind of bent her knees. Anything deeper would force her to the ground, and once she was on the ground, she would need a forklift to get her up again. Which was not an option.
“Can you speak louder?”
“She’s losing blood,” the bystander said, hands still up. “Look, see my nametag? I work in the cafe. The one that just got the glass blasted out. We have a first aid kit. Authorities should be on the way.”
“Banujani?”
The woman nodded. If she thought it was fine, then fine. Vivian nodded. “But just you.”
“Sure thing, miss.”
In a minute flat, the man ran into the cafe and back out again, and managed to get a basic bandage on Banujani’s wound.
“Okay, that should—”
Figures popped out of the air, moving in formation and barking orders.
The bystander cursed and jerked away again, and the crowd dispersed. Vivian relaxed. She recognized the not-cavalry. It seemed like forever since Banujani pushed the distress button.
