In this opening scene of Lights Out, we meet Tornahdo (who in later Bringer of Chaos books will be renamed "Six" by the immortal king, as an insult at first, which quickly becomes a token of respect). Having served as an enlisted sailor, I heard the phrase, "Don't sir me" more times than I could count.
Except: I work for a living
The air reeked of antiseptic and starch stiffened the pillowcase. If only the mind-numbing jabbering would stop.
Tornahdo pried open his eyes. The flattened blood bag above him, stenciled equipment and gray walls screamed military hospital.
He'd died. Again.
Spanish curses slipped out. His abuela would've taken a switch to him. He made the sign of the cross and kissed his fingertips.
After yanking the tube out of his arm, he pressed a thumb over the entry point. Thankfully, this time, he wasn't writhing on the floor in agony. Well, not yet.
A faceless android in a Ghost Corps uniform loomed over a bank of equipment displaying Tornahdo's name and vitals. First impression was right. Military hospital.
The weapons-grade yapping continued.
"Did you hear?" a youthful voice bragged. "He killed six of 'em last night."
"Yeah, but they don't stay dead. They never do."
"If Ultras didn't come back to life, their plasma wouldn't bring our own people back."
The transfusion of enemy blood healed the hole in Tornahdo's arm in seconds. He thumbed off the red smear and rolled over on the gurney.
An open door led to a sink and toilet built to let gravity do its work. Which meant this was a planet. You hadn't lived until you were in space, floating in zero gravity while your body's final twitches sent your corpse spinning.
Notices on the wall confirmed this was San Xavier in the Colonies of Man. Same place he'd bought it the first time.
This was getting old.
"He's awake." The pair of baby-faced orderlies ceased bickering with each other and blabbered at him.
"¡Silencio!" Pressing fingers against his brow, Tornahdo fought lacerating pain.
"But I was telling him that—"
"For the love of all that's holy, will you shut up!" He levered himself into a sitting position and jammed his hands against his temples. "You're enough to wake the dead."
"Sorry, sir."
"Don't call me sir. I work for a living."
"Yes, sir." Blushing, the orderly swallowed. "Sorry, sir. I mean—"
Mimicking a zipper across his lips, Tornahdo slid off the gurney onto unsteady feet.
The other orderly hustled forward and supported him.
He shook off the touch. Last thing he needed was boys fussing over him. You could bet when immortals came back to life, they didn't put up with nattering attendants.
Book Hooks is a weekly cooperative blog hop hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog.
