Tiij

"... when we... get out of... here... I want... to spend... about a year... on Vela..."
      Ignoring his own pain, Kazestrel gazed anxiously at his partner: Triskayen was fading in and out of consciousness, shivering partly with cold and partly with shock, only fitfully able to clamp down his awareness of pain.
      "Stay with me."
      "... no intention... going any... where..."
      Kazestrel pulled him a little closer as he lost consciousness again, holding the slight form carefully, trying not to make Triskayen's injuries any worse.
      Even with dark-adapted Fohmatraan eyes it was difficult to see through the dust-choked murk. What light reached them came from tiny chinks far overhead, presumably where the building's roof had fallen in when the missile hit. They'd had just seconds to prepare as the explosion shook the embassy's imposing main edifice, shattering the structure and sending each successive floor collapsing onto the one beneath it...
      It hadn't been long enough. The Tiijiin council had died almost immediately, crushed under falling silicate and stone: the Plarithdi guard had survived a little longer, but even their prodigious strength had not been sufficient to save them, buried as they were under the massively heavy blocks. That the two Fohmatraans were still alive was due more to a fluke of seating arrangements than anything, but even then they'd both been hurt as masonry slammed to the lower floor.
      Triskayen whimpered quietly as he regained consciousness, then cut the sound short with a pained growl.
      "... sorry..."
      "Do not be foolish. You are hurt."
      "... so're you... don't hear you complaining..."
      Kazestrel quirked an eyebrow - not that anyone could see it.
      "Inherent stoicism. One of us must remain in control."
      Triskayen snorted incautiously, then gasped as broken ribs stabbed at his lungs. Kazestrel held him still as he tried not to cough.
      "It would be best if you did not try to move."
      "... thank you... for those words... of wisdom..."
      "You are most welcome."
      "... how long...?"
      "Since the attack? Not long. Less than a local hour, certainly."
      "... then... should be rescued... by now..."
      "Ordinarily I would have agreed. But the fact that this was allowed to happen argues a lack of preparedness on the part of the natives. I assume it was a surprise attack. Are you able to *scan* anyone?"
      "... tried... no-one in range... and... can't focus..."
      Which was hardly surprising, Kazestrel thought. His partner's injuries, while not imminently life-threatening, were considerable: along with the broken ribs and multiple leg fractures, he was sure Triskayen had internal injuries. They were both bleeding copiously, the blast hurling shattering silicate with sufficient power to shred tough Fohmatraan skin, even through lathine uniforms.
      He shifted slightly, ignoring the pain as the ends of his broken collarbone ground together, wrapping his good arm around his partner, trying to share body heat. It was very cold, the middle of a Tiijiin winter, and the blizzard blowing outside was seeping into the ruined building, the temperature dropping rapidly as nightfall approached. Triskayen shivered again, gritting his teeth as the slight movement jarred broken bone.
      "... where are they...?"
      Kazestrel rested his cheek against the top of his partner's head, closing aching eyes for a moment. He couldn't see anything anyway, not a lot of point keeping them open.
      "They will be here. Be patient."
      "... me, patient...?"
      Kazestrel managed a brief, painful chuckle.
      "I know I ask the near impossible. But try, anyway."
      "... yes... What do you... think happened?"
      "I can only speculate. Tiijiin relations with Spuch have been... erratic for some years. Perhaps the war that we are here to avert has started."
      "... oh wonderful..."
      "But I do not know. I am probably wrong."
      "... but it... makes sense... Just as well Jad... was late..."
      Indeed, that was the only bright spot to the whole affair; the ambassador had been delayed in his suite in a residential building some distance away and asked the Fohmatraans to deputise until he arrived. He'd not have survived this. They could only hope that no other missiles had fallen: they'd heard none, but Fohmatraan hearing wasn't keen - and they'd been otherwise engaged, trying to stay alive.
      "Haloooa!"
      Triskayen startled, yelping with pain, then tilted his head back: the voice had come from high above. Kazestrel peered upwards, unable to make out the form of their rescuer.
      "We are down here."
      "How many alive?"
      "Two. Fohmatraan."
      There was a shocked silence, then,
      "None of the council?"
      "I regret not."
      "I see. Can you move?"
      "Not easily."
      "How stable is it, do you know?"
      "I cannot tell." The floor had been creaking ominously since the explosion, and Kazestrel was certain there were at least two more basement storeys below them, but so far the sturdy triplex had held.
      "Right. Hold on. We'll get you out as fast as we can."
      Seconds later Kazestrel jerked backwards as a powerful searchlight caught him unprepared, searing his eyes before his shades could darken to protect them. Triskayen slapped a shaking hand weakly over the shades in an instinctive - if useless and too late - effort to defend his partner, growling upwards ineffectually.
      "... stupid... idiots..."
      Kazestrel blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his sight: it would be some time before his vision fully returned, but it didn't feel as though there was any permanent damage... He held Triskayen still, good hand stroking the sparkling mane soothingly.
      "I will be well. Do not move. You will worsen your injuries."
      Growling, the elder Fohmatraan settled back into immobility, waiting impatiently as the Tiijiin rescue party slowly and carefully lowered a medilift and the Collective's own Shaedan biotech down into the shattered building...

Jadanareior was all but wringing his hands by the time the Fohmatraans were settled into the 'skimmer's medical bay.
      "Oh my friends - I am so sorry! That this should happen to you..."
      Triskayen glowered up from the diagnostic bed, where Clephyll was running a molecular bone-regen 'scepe over his legs: while it dramatically reduced the amount of time bone took to mend, it wasn't the most pleasant of procedures.
      "It's not your fault, Sheyaa. We're just glad you weren't there too."
      "Nevertheless..."
      Triskayen sighed and closed his eyes.
      "Please may we consider the matter closed?"
      "... If you wish it so..."
      "What will happen now?" Kazestrel lay back on the other bed, a cooling patch over his eyes, awaiting his turn with the 'scepe. The Caelixiin eyed him, wincing: one end of the broken clavicle had punctured the golden skin close to a muscular shoulder. Triskayen's injuries were more serious and needed to be treated first - but Kazestrel's injuries looked unbearably painful to Jadanareior... He coughed and inclined his head.
      "It would appear that this was not a concerted attack, but a rogue missile launched by an unstable crewman aboard the visiting Spuchyen 'skimmer. The crewman has since been relieved of duty - and, I believe, his life. I have the assurances of both parties that such a thing cannot happen again. The conference will, therefore, still take place. But not until after further security has arrived and you are both fit to return to duty."
      Kazestrel nodded.
      "I see. Very well."
      Triskayen grumbled from his seated position as the biotech treated his ribs.
      "And there I was thinking we'd be excused the rest of the mission."
      Jadanareior hesitated, then half-smiled tentatively.
      "If you so wish, sheya Triskayen..."
      The elder Fohmatraan growled irritably.
      "It was a jest, Sheyaa. Stars above, can't you recognise a joke yet?"
      Clephyll glanced at the shocked ambassador and grinned.
      "Ignore him. He hates being indisposed, hates being in pain more, and most of all he hates having to be still until his injuries have healed."

A couple of 'skimmer hours later, in the pool in their quarters, Triskayen winced as he tried to stretch and twisted grumpily onto his side, glowering at nothing in particular.
      "Pigarchteh. This aches."
      Kazestrel nodded distractedly. His partner had spent an hour in trance, which had fixed most of the internal injuries, but Fohmatraan bone was dense, taking considerable force to break and longer to mend, and a course of bone-regen couldn't completely heal it in such a short space of time: the site of the fractures was painful. It would be several days before they were both functional again.
      In the meantime he had a grouchy partner to deal with...
      He settled on the warm, effervescing water at the elder Fohmatraan's side, running a hand lightly down his body as Triskayen shivered happily.
      "Perhaps I can distract your thoughts from pain."
      His partner grinned suddenly, shifting closer and placing a hand gently over his groin.
      "Now that's a good idea..."
      Smiling, Kazestrel pulled him closer, hand sliding down to tease the edges of his sheath, one finger easing inside to stroke the rapidly burgeoning shaft. Strong fibrils wrapped his finger, then slid upwards to caress his hand as Triskayen twisted to lick slowly along his uninjured collarbone.
      "Thank you."
      Kazestrel slid down the slight pale body, long barbed tongue lapping at twining fibrils: he paused for long enough to glance up into sparkling affectionate eyes.
      "For what?"
      "For your patience and concern."
      He inclined his head, then nipped gently at the edge of the shaft.
      "You are my partner. How could I do anything else?"
      Remembering some of his time with Jezindra, Triskayen smiled sardonically.
      "It has been known..."
      "But not by me." Kazestrel teased a half-extended claw around the responsive tissue at the top of the shaft, then down into the exquisitely sensitive inner channel; Triskayen's back arched as he crested, hands gripping his partner's silver mane.
      "Ohhhhhh..."
      Moving up the quivering pale body, Kazestrel eased his own shaft over his partner's, slowly sliding down, their inner fibrils twining, caressing each other, until he'd fully enveloped Triskayen's organ... Cresting simultaneously, claws unconsciously buried in each other's shoulders, they held still for a moment, fibrils quivering, then started again, sensitised flesh deliciously responsive...

"I feel much better."
      Kazestrel chuckled and nuzzled his partner's mane. Two hours later, exhausted, sated, they lay together, Triskayen's head resting on the younger Fohmatraan's shoulder.
      "As do I."
      Triskayen slid a slender hand down the muscular body beside him to rest over Kazestrel's groin, gently stroking the sheath edges: the younger Fohmatraan groaned very quietly.
      "I suggest we rest for a while. We both need to recover. From our injuries."
      Triskayen snickered.
      "Oh, yes, of course." He wriggled luxuriously and nipped at his partner's throat. "I'm sure this speeds up our healing."
      Kazestrel smiled and ran a claw lightly across his shoulders.
      "I would agree."
      "So it makes sense to do it as often as possible, so we can return to duty as quickly as possible, wouldn't you say?"
      "Indeed."
      "Then let's sleep for a little." He smirked. "I'm sure I can think of a pleasant way to waken you..."