health in spite of the blood he had lost.
"I will make my report to Commander Pergith," the medic said. "You should report here for a recheck when the stitches disappear."
Micah nodded as he hopped off the table, his only thought to see how Lainey was.
"You will find a clean uniform in the closet," the medic said as he took his leave.
Minutes later, dressed in a regulation Fleet uniform, Micah returned to the main operating room. Fear coiled around his heart as he entered the compartment, which was ominously silent. Lainey rested on a long white table, covered by a dark green, temperature-controlled blanket. The doctor stood beside the table, his face grave as he listened to her heartbeat. He glanced up as Micah entered the room.
"How is she?"
"Not good," the doctor replied. "There has been considerable blood lost. The wound itself is not fatal, but..." The doctor shook his head. "Her prospects for survival are not favorable at this time."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"She needs blood. Human blood, but of course, we have none on board."
"Take mine."
The doctor shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"We have never mixed our blood with this species."
"Just do it."
"Very well, but I will not be responsible for the consequences to the earthling - or to you, Commander."
Micah nodded impatiently. "Just get on with it."
"This is most irregular," the doctor muttered, but he quickly performed the necessary preliminaries, and in a matter of minutes, Micah's blood was mingling with Lainey's.
He stared at the narrow tube that carried the blood from his veins to hers. On Earth, his blood had appeared to be brown, but now it was again a dark, dark red.
Please, just let her live. The silent prayer repeated itself in his mind over and over again as he watched the life-giving force trickle into Lainey's veins. But would it be life-giving, he wondered, or would his own blood poison her system, robbing her of the last breath of life?
He was light-headed when the procedure was finished, but he refused to leave her again.
The doctor cleared his throat. "I believe Commander Pergith expects you in his quarters."
"He can wait."
The doctor and the medic exchanged disapproving glances. To disobey one's superior on board ship was akin to mutiny.
Exasperated and obviously confused by Micah's devotion to an Earth woman, or perhaps to any woman, the doctor brought Micah a chair, insisting that he sit down before he fell down.
With a sigh, Micah did as he was told. For the first time in his life, he didn't care about obeying orders, didn't care about the rules and regulations that had always governed his life. He wasn't leaving Lainey's side until... he swallowed the lump in his throat... until he knew she was better or dead.
Time passed unnoticed as he sat beside her, her hand, so cold and limp, clutched in his, his gaze locked on her face. Gradually, the color returned to her cheeks, her hand grew warm, and then, with a sigh, she opened her eyes.
"Lainey?"
She turned toward the sound of his voice. And then a faint smile touched her lips.
"Micah," she murmured drowsily, "I had the strangest dream..." She frowned, her words tapering off as she took in her surroundings. "Where are we?"
His hand squeezed hers. "We're on board a spacecraft."
"A flying saucer?"
Micah nodded. "Pergith came for me."
"But..." She lifted a hand to her chest, felt the slight bulge of a bandage beneath the sheet. "I was shot." She stared at him, alarmed. "You were shot. I don't understand..."
"Everything is all right, Lainey." He stood up and kissed her cheek. "Rest now."
She grabbed his forearm. "Where are you going?"
"I must see Pergith."
"Don't leave me."
"You'll be all right," he said reassuringly. "I won't be gone long."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Try to get some sleep."
She nodded, but of course sleep was out of the question. She was on a spaceship! The table beneath her was warm, pulsing as though it were alive. The walls and ceiling were a clear, soft white. She peered over the edge of the table; the floor was green and glowed faintly.
There were a number of strange-looking objects on a low shelf.
She felt a moment of apprehension as a man clad in a pale green shirt and pants walked into view. He was tall and slender, with short, wavy, yellow-gold hair and hazel eyes fringed with pale lashes. His ears were very small, smaller even than Micah's. There was webbing on his hands.
"How are you feeling?" he asked in a well-modulated voice.
"Fine, thank you." She couldn't help