From the sounds of the cheers and impromptu betting she heard, apparently her boys had quite a reputation in bar fights.
The four men faced off, circling. She finally spotted Garcia sitting at a nearby table, his arms crossed, an amused expression on his face.
She ran over to him. “Captain, go get your men!” He shook his head. “I’m not fucking stupid. They’ll blow it off in a few minutes and be laughing and joking and friends again.” Barely controlled rage shook her body. “Your men nearly raped me!”
He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna play with the men, girl, you need to learn to take care of yourself. This isn’t the kiddy pool. You’re not even off-Earth yet. This is a church compared to some of the spaceport bars.”
“Captain Garcia, go get your fucking crew, and that’s an order!” Emi didn’t know where the depth and force of her voice came from, but even Garcia reappraised her.
“You aren’t in a position to order me around¯”
“I am a ranking DSMC fleet medical officer, and I can have your license pulled for dereliction of duty and medical soundness. How would you like to spend the rest of your life driving a taxi in New Phoenix? Get your men¯now¯or tomorrow morning you will find yourself in front of a duty fitness board. When I’m finished with you, your next view of space will be through a telescope. And get your goddamn crew chipped first thing in the morning, or I’ll get them neutered by lunch!”
He glared, but reluctantly stood and headed for the crowd. “Fine!” he spat.
She trembled, following him, afraid once she did make it back to the truck that she wouldn’t be able to drive. It was adrenaline and shock combined, she knew, but she had to hang on, had to get her boys out of there.
Caph pounded on McReiny, and Ford looked like he was holding his own against Baxter. Every time one of Garcia’s men landed a punch on her boys, Emi felt it as if they’d hit her. She followed Garcia, trying to get in there. If she could get the twins out¯
A loud shout, and Caph went down. Emi screamed, trying to force her way through the gathered mass of drunks. The crowd flowed closed behind Garcia as he pushed through, leaving her to find her own way to her men. Finally, she managed to shove her way through to them. Garcia was trying to pull McReiny off Caph, who had his hands wrapped around the other man’s throat.
She started toward Ford and Baxter, with every intention of forcing herself between them despite the risk of personal injury, when a firm hand clamped onto her shoulder and dragged her back.
Spinning around, prepared to fight, she stared into Aaron’s iron glare.
“Go grab Caph as soon as Rick gets Mac off him,” he ordered, his voice soft, firm, calm, all business. “He’ll still be able to walk. I’ll meet you with Ford at the truck.”
She didn’t have time to express her shock, disbelief¯and relief.
She nodded. Garcia pinned McReiny’s arms behind him and slung him off Caph. Emi immediately jumped on Caph, grabbing his face in her hands and locking onto his green eyes.
“We’re going. Now,” she ordered, pouring as much mental force into her words as she could.
He hesitated, then nodded. She stood and grabbed his wrist with a death grip. Instead of trying to get through the crowd, she pulled him down the hallway to the back door. He followed, nearly docile. She prayed this entrance led to the parking lot.
Thank the gods, it did. She had the keys in her hand and nearly dropped them as the shakes threatened. She didn’t know how Aaron got to the bar, and she didn’t care, but it was easier to shove Caph into the truck bed. She opened the tailgate and pushed him toward it.
“Get in. Now.” He did after stumbling and staggering around the back of the truck. Emi turned to see Aaron carrying a nearly-unconscious Ford, slung across Aaron’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Apparently Baxter got in a few last punches. Aaron unceremoniously dumped a groaning Ford into the bed next to Caph and closed the tailgate.
Then Aaron turned to her. “You okay, Em?” he asked, his eyes burning, searching for any injury, his hands on her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said. She started to walk toward the driver door when her knees unhinged. Aaron caught her, scooping her into his arms as she sobbed against his shoulder.
“Shh, it’s okay, babe,” he soothed. “I’ve got you, honey. You’re safe.” Holding her tightly against his chest, he carried her to the passenger side and gently placed her in the seat.
Medical diagnoses floated through her mind. Shock was the main one, and Aaron seemed to sense it. He buckled the seat belt around her and jogged to the driver side, turning up the heat for her as he peeled out of the parking lot.
Her teeth chattered. He grabbed her hand, holding it, his flesh hot against hers. “You’re not hurt?” he asked again.
She shook her head, unable to talk. She slumped against him as much as the seat belt would allow, sobbing, and he put his arm around her and gently rubbed her shoulder. They quickly made it back to the dry dock where he backed the truck into the loading bay slot near their cargo hatch.
He left it running and put it in park. “Stay here,” he ordered, turning up the heat full blast for her. “Don’t move.” She watched as he walked around to the tailgate and dropped it. Both Caph and Ford stirred, but neither made any obvious moves to get out.
Aaron uncoiled the fire hose and opened the valve, then stood by the cab and blasted Caph and Ford with the full force of the water.
The men yelled, floundered, and fell out of the back of the truck.
From the look on Aaron’s face, she knew he was beyond pissed. She didn’t bother trying to intercede on the twins’ behalf. It would only make matters worse at that point.
He hosed them down until they were standing, yelling, trying to hold their hands in front of their faces to block the spray. Convinced they were conscious enough to walk, Aaron hosed out the truck bed.
Apparently one or both of them had puked.
He shut the hose nozzle off, his barely restrained rage clearly evident in his deceptively calm voice. “Get your asses in the ship. I’ll deal with you later, goddammit. Don’t show your fucking faces until you’re sober tomorrow morning.” The twins stumbled toward the cargo hatch.
Aaron turned his back on them and shut the water off, coiled the hose, and returned to the truck.
He looked at her again, his firm mask slipping to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie?”
She nodded. How could she have ever doubted how much he loved her?
Ford was right. She didn’t need to hear it. What good was hearing it if he didn’t show her? Tonight he’d shown her. It’d washed off him in nearly panicked waves when he grabbed her shoulder in the bar.
He drove around the dry dock facility to the motor pool office and left her waiting in the truck while he turned the keys in. Then he opened her door for her and helped her out. She tried to walk, but her legs gave way again. She didn’t object when he scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the main hatch and all the way to their quarters.
He gently laid her on their bed, and that’s when she felt his sad but determined thought.
“No!” she gasped. “You can’t cancel my assignment!” He closed his eyes and knelt beside her, holding her hands. “I can’t risk you getting hurt.”
“Please, no!” she begged. “Aaron, I’m okay. It was stupid, I should have made them leave sooner.” He shook his head, his eyes sad and heart heavy. “Em, I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”
“I didn’t get hurt.” She sobbed, clinging to him, resisting his attempts to peel her off him. “Please don’t make me go. I love you, I love all of you, you’re all I’ve got…you’re my family!”