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rocketed, exploded in his chest and chilling fluid
    flooded into his heart.
    "That has to be a real bummer for him." Dorrie chuckled.
    "Shut up, Burkhart!" ordered Dr. Dean.
    He was jolted from the table, slammed down and the shrill shriek of some horrible
    monster roared after him as he experienced a sudden, blinding white light.
    "He's not breathing, ladies!" Dorrie told them. "Move it, Dunne!"
    Bridget fumbled the wedge from between the Reaper's teeth then moved quickly out of
    Dorrie's way as the tech hurried to drop an airline down Cree's throat to intubate him.
    The monster was crawling down his throat, plunging into his lungs. He could feel it
    laying its insidious eggs inside him.
    "Syringe!"
    How many times were they going to stake him? he thought. Hadn't they already killed
    him? Why were they tormenting him still? He was thrown upwards against his restraints,
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    then seemed to melt into the table for a moment as the blinding white light seared
    through his brain and brought intense, sickening pain.
    "We've got a hitch!"
    The shrill shriek of the monster seemed to cough, then cough again, before finally
    settling down to a piercing succession of hiccups. Cree wondered it if had bitten off more of him than it could chew and choked. The thought made him giggle.
    "Captain Cree?" Bridget asked, seeing the fixed stare leap back to life. "Are you with us, Captain Cree?"
    He had never seen such beautiful eyes in his life as the ones that were staring down at
    him with such compassion. They were the most delicate shade of green: pale and
    soothing. They looked at him with so much tenderness, such overwhelming sympathy, he
    knew he could trust their owner.
    "Three," Dr. Dean stated firmly. "That's it. No more today."
    There was a long pause then the woman in the viewing gallery agreed. "Three it is."
    "Onar demanded five," Dr. Dean told her treatment team.
    "Five and he would be fodder for the Ionarian worms," Dorrie scoffed, reaching for the tube. Cree gagged as she pulled the airway from his throat. He coughed and felt dribble
    running down his chin until the woman with the beautiful eyes moved over him and
    wiped it away.
    "It's over," she told him gently. "We're through."
    "S...stay," he whispered, his throat an agony.
    "What?" Even as the orderlies lifted him, moving him to a gurney, Cree found he could not look away from the woman's beautiful green eyes. He tried to lift his hand, to touch
    the hand of the woman whose eyes held him so enthralled, but his muscles wouldn't
    cooperate.
    "W...with me," he asked.
    "What is he babbling about?" Dorrie snapped.
    "I don't know," Bridget answered. Following behind the gurney, she watched the
    intense shivering that had taken hold of the Reaper. His body was quivering, his teeth
    chattering. He stared fixedly at the lights running by overhead as the gurney rolled down
    the corridor.
    "Get me some blankets for him, Dorrie," Bridget ordered. She walked ahead of the
    gurney, opened Cree's cell door for the orderlies to roll him inside.
    "There you go, Sir," the taller of the two orderlies said as he and the other man shifted Cree from the gurney to the bare cot. He glanced at Bridget. "Should we strap him down,
    Doc?"
    "Wouldn't hurt," Bridget replied. She was watching the vague smile trembling on her patient's face and wondered where his mind had taken him for the moment.
    "Green," she heard him say. "So green."
    The orderlies tugged the webbed restraints into place around the Reaper's wrists and
    ankles, then wheeled the gurney from the room. Bridget walked to Cree's bed and leaned
    over him.
    "Captain?" she questioned. When he didn't switch his attention from the light above him to her, she repeated his name. Still there was no response. She sighed, then reached
    out to tilt his head toward her. "Captain Cree?"
    There they are again, he thought, his lips