I will not forget.”
His expression is so sincere that it makes my chest ache a little. I may not understand these new aliens, but I understand protecting your species all too well. How many years have I spent busting my ass to keep humans safe?
Finally shoving my pistols back into their holsters, I give him a slight nod. “It was a genuine honor. Humans take our alliances seriously. Once we give our word, we keep it.” I gesture to the huge gash running down his bicep. “Let me clean that up for you so you can get back to work.”
I quickly grab a first aid kit from under the front console of the shuttle platform and glove up. It only takes a moment to clean and close the wound with one of the handheld dermal healing units. I move through the throng of wounded and do the best I can to see to their needs. Though I’m no medic, we’re all taught basic lifesaving skills, and their alien tech is simple to use. Most of the injuries are slashes and bites that have ripped the skin open. Two warriors are so seriously injured that they’re immediately put into stasis.
We lost three brave souls today. That always makes for a shit day. Watching the Draconians wrap their dead affects me. Death is something I never got used to dealing with, but I square my shoulders and keep working until we’re all loaded up and moving again. The Draconians are surprisingly quick about it. One of the three shuttle platforms is riding lower to the ground due to the weight of the huge mutant Sonarian.
Turing the situation over in my head, something keeps gnawing at the back of my mind. I have good gut instincts, and something tells me we missed an enemy stronghold. If had just lost a war, I’d lay low until the enemy ranks thinned out and hit them when they least expect it. It’s possible the Moltan have thought of this strategy as well.
My mind begins running through possible scenarios. How many troops have they held in reserve? Where and when are they planning their next offensive? Are they waiting for reinforcements? Earth will be vulnerable once the Draconians remove most of their forces. The plan is to leave one small training ship in orbit at the conclusion of hostilities with the Moltan. The ships they refer to as training ships are really just mini versions of their fully functional battleships. Apparently their queens are gifted with their first small ship and must fight each other to move up the ranks and gain a larger ship. It seems like a screwed up system to me, but since no one asked, I keep my opinions to myself.
Truth be told, one training ship is more than we deserve. Earth Gov has done the bare minimum to support the Draconians in this war, just like they did the bare minimum to support my Chantel when she was out here on her own fighting the Moltan. My daughter was the one who discovered the invasion. They dribbled out fresh troops and were tight-fisted with supplies for no good reason.
Granted, no one on the council knew we were facing a full all-out assault until it was upon us. By then we were in way over our head. I hesitate to think what would have happened if the Draconian warriors hadn’t jumped into to fight on our behalf. Chantel would be dead, and since I was their top choice for fighting the incursion, I would probably be dead as well.
Humans would need serious numbers and firepower to fight off the Moltan by ourselves. For some reason, that kind of support does not seem to be in the cards. It makes me wonder if the people we’ve tasked with running the government are so preoccupied with getting away from this dying world they aren’t prioritizing Earth’s safety.
Shaking off the bad gut feeling, I turn back to the task at hand. Right now, the Draconians are packing up to leave our world. If today proves anything, it’s that we’re not finished with the fight. I begin to plan out the speech I’m going to give Mathadar in an effort to get him to stay longer. Also, I want to witness the interrogation of the Sonarian mutant; from a safe distance, of course.
We’re met part of the way home by the backup I requested. There are only a few platforms, and they’re staring curiously at our captive