Free Terran Times 02 - Deal with a Dhemon by Viola Grace Page B

you’ll have limited use of the arm for several days. We’ve used the regenerator on you, but it has only replaced the torn tissue. You’ll have to relearn to use your arm.” He was matter of fact as he passed on the doctor’s diagnosis, then left to attend to another patient the doctor was prodding and clicking at.
    Moran and Adal came into her view. Their faces were relieved, silver skin flushed with concern. The mottled purple under their jaw lines told Sam how worried they had been.
    “Ok guys, what the hell happened?” She scooted up in the bed as best as she could. Not an easy task given that she had no strength in her left arm.
    “You were shot.” Adal’s voice was close to tears. She took a shuddering breath and wiped at her nose, which had begun to run with emotion.
    “It was an assassination attempt. The shooter struck while you were on stage, and hoped to kill you. Fortunately he failed.” Moran held his mate close to him and comforted her with a hand stroking down her back in an endless pattern.
    “I know what happened to me. What happened to the shooter? Did someone see him?” With fumbling fingers she drew the medical gown close to her and started to ease her way off of the exam bed.
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    Deal with a Dhemon

    “You could say that. The shooter is dead. He was an Enjel tracker.”
    Oh, so that is what the Enjel had been doing there. “Dead? How?”
    “Your new fans, the Rranik, became incensed when you were shot. They tore the tracker to pieces.” Moran did not seem too choked up about the death of the assailant. In fact he seemed pleased at the way things had turned out.
    “Doctor. May I go?” She raised her voice to be heard over the noise of the bustling medical bay.
    At the flapping of the appendage that passed for a hand and fingers, she hopped onto her feet and was grateful for the support of her friends as they helped her out of medical and to her rooms.
    Her com unit was blinking when she was dropped off at her tiny apartment in the bipedal quarters.
    “Great, the perfect capper to the perfect evening.” She reached over and triggered the communications link that would activate the call previously recorded.
    A metallic voice sounded as an armored faceplate filled the screen. “Samantha Vorning.
    Please contact me immediately. The matter is urgent. You are in danger. Again.” The screen went blank and Sam leaned back and sighed.
    “No shit.” Grimacing at the numbness in her arm, she punched in the release codes to send the 9

    Viola Grace

    signal to the Alliance satellite. From there it was sent from relay to relay at a speed she couldn’t even imagine. In three minutes, the connection was made on a secure channel and the face plate was back in the screen.
    “Samantha, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” The voice was flat and mechanical.
    The sentiment was not.
    “Thanks Tyrell, I am happy to see you too.”
    “Based on your pallor, I think you know why I called.”
    “I have a good idea.”
    “Trackers have been deployed. Apparently one of your many fans obtained a DNA sample from one of your costumes and leaked the information to the arena cartel. They’ve put a substantial price on your head. Dead or alive, preferably dead.”
    Tyrell stopped for a moment to let the information sink in to Samantha’s head.
    “Your involvement in tracking Kyra Dannick and pointing the Alliance to the Arena Station has been exposed. That’s the reason your physical appearance was altered. To hide you. Your public appearances have now made you a target.”
    The faceplate did not offer any indication of amusement. “I’m sorry. I never meant to put myself in danger after all the trouble you went to.
    I love the changes in my body. I especially like the fangs, oohh, and the pointy ears. I love the pointy 10

    Deal with a Dhemon

    ears.” Her grin was infectious, the fangs flashing in the reflection of the screen, but the mask facing her was unmoved.
    “We have to get you