Hostile Genus: An Epic Military Sci-Fi Series (Invasive Species Book 2)

is everybody? Where is Maya?
The concern erupted into full-blown panic like a strong drug coming on. Jon gave up on trying to figure out what had happened or where he was and started scurrying through the wreckage that stretched behind him for what seemed like a klick. With the frantic intensity of a starving animal digging for food, Jon rummaged through the strewn wreckage, tossing a chunk of fuselage here, flipping over a crate of stowed supplies there, looking for his companions. His mind recited the mantra of those whose growing dread matched their growing awareness of the situation at hand.
No! No, no, no, no, no, please!
He found Lucy and Ratt first. They lay tangled up in each other like two contortionists trying to re-invent the Kama Sutra. He reached down and gently shook them both. Lucy recovered instantly, her presence returning like lightning to her already open eyes. One of her arms shot out as fast as a frog’s tongue catching its dinner. Her tanto knife was clutched in the grip of its digits, its blade held a hair’s width away from Jon’s throat.
“Whoa! Easy there, easy there.”
Jon watched with relief as Lucy relaxed, lowered the knife, and said, “Help me with Ratt.”
Jon lifted as she pushed, and they gingerly plucked the kid off of her and onto a patch of ground that was relatively clear of debris.
“He is alive but unconscious. Let’s find Maya and Carbine,” Lucy said, prompting a responsorial nod from Jon.
They leapt into action, splitting up and sifting through the wreckage, each lifting and displacing the larger pieces with the ease of Hercules. Every time Jon had to exert some effort to lift a particularly heavy piece, his body was faintly lit by the same glow that had engulfed him entirely when Lucy had first injected him with the serum. The effect was eerie and made his skin look like a paper lantern.
Before another painfully long two minutes had passed, his efforts paid off. He saw Maya’s foot first, sticking out from underneath a large hunk of twisted black metal. His chest felt as if it were once again in the icy clutches of the bardo-spirit. For a cowardly moment, he was too scared to lift the debris, too afraid to look.
The sight of her foot twitching suddenly and the sound of her soft, girlish voice moaning returned life to his dead heart as sure as any defibrillator ever could. He rushed forward and carefully lifted the debris away, making sure not to hurt the prone goddess, and tossed it aside.
Maya lay there, eyes shut and looking more like a drunk that had passed out than someone who had peacefully fallen asleep, her arms and legs twisted and contorted in awkward positions, but otherwise appearing no worse for wear.
Jon dropped to one knee and cradled her head in his hand. “Maya!”
Her eyes fluttered open, like a child waking from a dream. When she saw his face, she smiled.
“You’re okay!” she said.
“Me?” Jon was incredulous. “I was worried sick about you!” They both laughed and embraced. He pulled back from their hug and took in the sight of her face. They smiled at each other and Jon leaned forward to hug her once more. Halfway there, some involuntary madness overcame him. His head dipped of its own accord, and he kissed her hard on the lips.
The goddess’s eyes widened in mild shock for a heartbeat, then she closed them and returned the kiss. Jon felt wetness on his cheeks and broke off their lip tug-of-war, concern on his face. She was crying, but she was still smiling. A small fleck of saliva lingered on her bottom lip, and she brought her demure hand up to her exquisite mouth, covering it, and laugh-cried. Her other hand reached up and caressed the side of Jon’s face.
“I’m fine, guys. Not hurt. But it’s cool, go on slobbering on each other.”
Stunned and embarrassed, Jon and Maya both spun around to find Carbine standing a few meters away, dusting himself off.
“Carbine! You’re okay!” Jon exclaimed, his face contorted with a multitude of emotions.
“We, uh…” Maya mumbled.
“Hey. It’s cool,” Carbine said with a wink. “Your secret’s safe with me. I knew you were concerned about me, even if it didn’t look like it.” Carbine’s grin betrayed his faux hurt.
“Gee, I, uh… I’m sorry, man,” Jon stammered, rubbing the back of his head and casting shifting glances at the sandy ground.
“I said it’s cool. Everyone else all right?”
Maya turned to look at Jon, clearly curious for the same reason as Carbine.
“Yes. Lucy and Ratt are back that way.” Jon pointed behind him to where sand dunes rolled away, littered with chunks of transport and small bushes. “I honestly don’t know what Ratt’s condition is.”
“Let’s go find out,” Maya said.
“Yeah. But hey,” Jon paused and frowned, deep in thought, “somebody want to tell me exactly what happened?”
On their walk back to Lucy and Ratt, Maya explained to Jon what had transpired in the transport, the way the bardo-spirit, the Wardens, had nearly erased Jon, and then the ship itself, from existence. How she had shaped a Strange to protect them from the spirits, how it must not have worked on Jon because the spirit had already penetrated him, and how the protective cocoons she’d shaped on everyone must have saved them from the destructive kinetic energy of the crash.
A few minutes later, they crested the small dune that obscured Ratt from their vision and called out to Lucy, who was nearby and still searching for the survivors.
Another minute later, they had Ratt’s shirt off. Lucy went straight to work and began to examine Ratt with a laser wand of some kind, pulled from the kid’s gear pouch. After a long minute’s silent work, she looked up at the goddess as she continued to run the laser back and forth over Ratt’s chest.
“He is alive, but in a coma. Brain and organ activity are normal,” Lucy reported. “He doesn’t actually appear to be