SITN13

Disclaimer: The lawyers have been fed to the Magog, so it doesn't really matter, does it?

Author's note: Still in computer hell, and to top it all off, I was rear- ended driving home from work. Thanks for all the great reviews, they improved my mood a hundredfold.



Regina made her patch of cover with ease. Of course, she had never been quite so motivated before. She had to get away from Tyr before she gave in to the urge to bite him again, just to feel his reaction. She wondered what he would do if she were to lay a trail of little bites over his chest. The mental image was enough to spur her from the first spot of cover and forward into the combat zone. It was not as dangerous as it looked, as the opposition was shooting blind. She glanced back and watched her crewmates spring off the side of the gangplank. Tyr and Dylan had followed her lead, and were close on her heels. Since the enemy still appeared to be disoriented from the Flasher, she continued to close with them.

Tyr was right behind Regina, although he had to fight the urge to pull her behind him. She was making the most of the available cover, but there were still too many moments where she was exposed. The enemy may be blinded, but they were still shooting, and a random shot could still hit the target. He finally lost the battle with his instincts when a stray bolt clipped her thigh. He grabbed her as she staggered, and pulled her against a cargo crate for shelter. He knew it wasn't much of an injury; he'd probably done more damage when they were sparring. Even so, the scent of charred flesh brought a low growl from his chest.

They were almost even with the assailants' line of retreat now. Regina felt the sudden burn of blaster fire creasing her leg, which caused her to stumble. Before she could recover and continue, Tyr jerked her against his chest, and spun her back against a crate. She absolutely hated blaster burn, but it wouldn't really slow her down much. It certainly didn't rate stopping their forward momentum, much less being suspended between Tyr and the cold metal of the crate at her back. Besides, it put her face uncomfortably close to his chest. The same chest she'd been having fantasies about only moments ago. When he growled, she tore her eyes away from his chest and looked up at his face. He loomed over her, his hair falling around him like a cloak. His eyes burned into hers, and she wondered if he has somehow read her mind. The combination of his scent, his behavior, and his appearance momentarily overwhelmed her. This was how a male was supposed to be. Diane was right; she had been fooling with inferior men long enough.

Tyr saw desire and approval in the dark green eyes that rose to his. She had said that she counted fighting at her side as a display. All his senses were telling him she was impressed. He gave her a look that promised they would continue this after the battle, and leaned back to release her from his embrace.

Regina gave a slight nod. Survival had to come first, or there would be nothing else. She struggled to refocus her attention on the fight. She let her eyes sweep the area, taking in her crew's positions. They had followed her lead, and were spread in a wedge behind her. The effects of the Flasher were wearing off; they could no longer rely on the enemy's lack of vision. On the bright side, they were in position to begin the next phase.

Regina held out her left hand and made a fist, then pulsed her hand open and closed twice. She didn't need to look back to know that everyone had pulled a small ball from their belt. She could hear the slight whine from the balls nearest her as they were activated. She flipped her first two fingers up in an arcing V. At the signal, her crewmates threw the little concussion grenades. She listened in satisfaction as the successive THWOOMP! noises passed down the line.

Normally it wouldn't take so many of the grenades, but they were in a more open area than the devices had been constructed for. They were really more efficient on board a ship, where the effects would rebound off the walls.

She dropped her arm forward in the signal to move in, and sprang away from the cargo crate. As she rounded the corner, she saw very little motion, except for the feeble movements of those caught at the edge of the blasts. Without a flicker of sympathy, she strode past the corpses, heading to the area she suspected held the mastermind of this little coup attempt. If the gods were feeling kindly toward her, she would find her quarry in a condition to be questioned.