Chapter 17

Lorran:

“He’s Kitty Pryde? Oh my God, he’s Kitty Pryde! So cool.” Wyn fanned both hands in front of her face as if overcome with excitement. “Also, what the hell was that?”

“He is a foundling,” Saavi said.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Lorran grabbed the lantern and gestured to the direction they needed to go. “He was taken by Suhlik as a child, and they changed him.”

“Oh, that’s less than cool. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“You did not know. I have heard rumors of his ability, but I have not seen it in action.” While he thought that the male’s ability to phase through solid matter looked cool, he kept his opinion to himself.

“Many believe he is an abomination,” Saavi added, because apparently the female could not remain silent.

“Quiet,” Lorran said. The droning from the raid stilled. An unnatural hush filled the corridors of the facility.

“He is an interesting specimen. So many are not allowed the chance to attain maturity,” she continued.

“What does that mean?” Wyn asked in a dubious tone.

“Often foundlings’ skulls are bashed in. It is for the best.”

Wyn gasped. “That’s terrible! They’re children!”

“Once, perhaps. Who knows how the Suhlik twisted them and what destruction they could do?” Saavi continued. “He’s fascinating. Has he been able to breed?” She turned to Lorran, as if he would answer that.

“Enough,” he snapped. “Cease your chatter. Do you want to draw the Suhlik? Or perhaps you would like your son to have the opportunity to attain maturity himself?”

In the lantern light, the female paled. Her hand tightened on Mikah’s shoulder. She gave a stiff nod. “Lead on.”

Lorran found the appropriate door to the maintenance tunnels. It remained locked, the control panel dead.

They waited. The silence, the absolute lack of any noise, grew deafening. No whirl from ventilation. No hum of power. Not even a drip of condensation.

Mikah tugged on his hand. “Did the Suhlik leave?”

“No. They are waiting for us to panic and make a mistake,” Lorran answered. This was a classic strategy: a hard press attack to test defenses, wait for the target to relax and grow sloppy, and then attack again.

Recognition struck Lorran.

The increased raids. The hatchery.

The Suhlik planned to invade again. Soon. That was their pattern. He had said as much to Mylomon early in the mission.

“Do not tell my son such things,” Saavi said.

“A warrior is prepared, even for unpleasant truths,” he replied.

“Are you saying my mate was unprepared?”

Ah. He understood. The female suffered an emotional hurt and needed to lash out. “Your mate knew the risks of his research, as did you.”

Saavi sucked in her breath, as if preparing to argue. There was nothing to argue about. They knew the risks, took pains to hide the nature of their research, and he would tell her as much.

Wyn touched his wrist, derailing his thoughts. She tilted her head in that questioning way of hers, asking if now was the time to argue with a stubborn female when they were running for their lives again.

Yes. His mate had a valid point.

A clang sounded from the other side of the door, like metal striking metal. The door ground before it swung open. The scent of stagnant water and mildew rolled forward. The temperature of the tunnels was significantly colder than the surface level.

Mylomon stood on a metal grated platform, an iron bar in hand. “Follow me and mind your step. The stairs have corroded and are unstable.”

The three Mahdfel males moved quietly, but the rest of the party clanked and clattered their way down the stairs. Sound reverberated off the tunnels, loudly announcing their presence. If the Suhlik did land on the surface, they would be easy prey.

They came to a junction. The maintenance tunnel split into the four directions.

“Lead the way,” Mylomon said, pushing Caldar forward. The male stumbled; his hands bound behind his back.

“I am uncertain,” the older male said.

“I am perfectly capable of putting you in a wall and leaving you there,” Mylomon said in a bored tone. Lorran noted the use of the word in and not through.

“As much as I long to witness that, this is the way.” Lorran pointed to the tunnel at the far left. The tunnel stank of rain, and the concrete in the archway crumbled at an alarming rate. “Despite its appearance, it stinks less. The rain got in recently from the exit.”

After an eternity—or twenty minutes—the tunnel ended at a ladder bolted to the wall.

“I will go first and secure the area,” Lorran said. He climbed up the ladder and blinked in the light.

Wyn:

Wyn climbed up the ladder and crawled onto the floor of a garage.

The building was stuffed with what looked like a very modern ship, various crates, canisters that looked like oil drums, and other items hidden under tarps.

A smuggler’s hideout.

Lorran whistled. “That is a lot of ship for one male.”

“It is a cargo vessel, nothing more,” Caldar said, and even Wyn could tell he lied. The ship occupied most of the garage. Battered and dingy, it looked well-worn but not down at the heels. It also looked…muscle-y? She couldn’t think of the right way to describe it.

“Advanced weaponry and deflection shields. Yes, a simple cargo vessel,” Lorran replied dryly.

The ground shook again.

Apparently, the Suhlik’s coffee break was over.

“Will this get us out of here?” Wyn asked. Leaving sounded good.

“Yes. Untie me and I will fly us out,” Caldar said.

“No. I am capable of piloting this craft,” Mylomon said. “Unlock the ship and transfer the command codes to me.”

“You do not know this ship or its capabilities. I am the expert.”

The air pressure changed, and the garage’s outer wall vanished. Just disintegrated. No explosion, though her head spun. A ringing noise filled her ears. Dust choked the air. Wyn coughed, her eyes gritty.

Suhlik appeared, their shadowy figures emerging from the dust. Their faces were the things of nightmares, golden scales catching the light and almost beautiful, but their eyes were black.

Empty.

It was…it was like she was a kid again, caught in a filthy cloud that choked the air and suffocated her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t run, despite Lorran shouting at her to head to the ship.

Lorran rushed forward, brandishing his blade. He grappled with the nearest Suhlik, and all Wyn could think was that the Suhlik wore armor and Lorran had a plain cloth shirt and how unbelievably selfishly he behaved.

So this was it? Married and widowed in less than a month? Frustration boiled inside her gut.

Fuck no.

She wasn’t helpless, and she wasn’t that suffocating little girl anymore. Wyn drew the pistol. She flicked the safety off, and it hummed with power. Lorran and the Suhlik wrestled, trading blows.

Wyn’s hands were steady as she aimed. The sight wavered from Lorran, his nose bleeding, to the empty-eyed Suhlik. The pistol wouldn’t stop a fully armored Suhlik soldier, which was fine.

She wasn’t aiming for the Suhlik.

The first shot hit the canisters behind Lorran and the Suhlik. The second ignited the fuel. Thick, oily smoke filled the garage.

The Suhlik opened fire, scattering shots on the ground, and hitting the ship behind them.

Saavi grabbed Wyn’s arm, twisting it, and she took the pistol from Wyn. Standing behind Wyn, Saavi used her as a shield and fired erratically.

“On the ship, Mikah!” Saavi shouted.

The Suhlik returned fire, the blasts sounding distant to her ringing ears. Wyn stumbled to the ship, half-dragging Saavi as she tried to break free.

The ship’s engines roared to life. Wyn couldn’t hear them but felt the vibration deep in her chest. On the ramp, the ship lifted off the ground. She clutched the railing. A shot bounced off the railing, and she threw herself to the floor. The ship climbed higher, and the ramp raised. She scrambled up, keeping her head down as shots pinged off the ship’s hull.

Saavi fell, a blast scorching the center of her chest.

“Mom!”

Lorran caught Mikah, barring him from running to his mother. “The ship. Now.”

“Come on. Hurry,” Wyn said, holding out a hand to the crying boy. He leaped onto the ramp, grabbing her wrist, and hauling himself up. Lorran scrambled up next, pushing her inside.

Mylomon appeared on the ramp, carrying Saavi in his arms. Her body was lax, slumped like a broken doll. Scarlet seeped out from the middle of her chest.

Lorran had a med kit in hand. He removed the woman’s shirt and inspected the wound.

Mikah sobbed, a strangled sound that hurt Wyn’s heart.

“Hold on to something!” Caldar shouted. The engine roared, and the ship lurched gracelessly into the sky.

“Sit,” Wyn said, pushing Mikah into the nearest seat. She struggled to fasten his safety harness, the force of takeoff pulling her this way and that.

“Assist your mate.” Mylomon shoved the med kit in her hands. He threw himself into the chair next to Caldar.

Wyn kneeled on the floor next to Lorran, the kit between them. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said.

“Put pressure here.” He placed her hands over a blood-soaked cloth covering the wound. “All your weight. Don’t be shy.”

“I’m not shy.” Wyn had no idea why she said that, but stress made people act funny, and seeing the woman take a plasma bolt to the chest was textbook stressful. Wyn leaned forward, letting gravity help.

The entire ship tilted, and they slid across the floor. Wyn scrambled to prevent herself from falling onto Saavi. Lorran grabbed the kit before the contents could spill everywhere.

“Incoming. Hold on,” Caldar shouted, a bit too late to be useful.

“Show off,” Lorran growled.

She wanted adventure. She volunteered for this.

Ghost ships. Abandoned amusement parks. Haunted military bases.

Trapped in a tin can with space lizards shooting at us. If she lived through this, she vowed to never do anything riskier than experimenting with new ice cream flavors.

“I hate this,” she muttered, needing to voice the poisonous thought but not wanting to cause a whole thing.

“This will be over shortly,” Lorran said.

Because we’ll be dead. Wyn kept that to herself.

Saavi moaned, her eyes fluttering. The pain had to be unbearable.

“Can we help her?” Wyn asked. She didn’t like the woman, and sure, she tried to use Wyn as a meat shield, but she didn’t want her to suffer.

“That is what I am attempting.” Lorran rifled through the med kit. “We need to stop the bleeding. This should do it.” He held up a palm-sized white packet. He ripped open one end and removed a thin, gauzy sheet. An antiseptic odor tickled her nose.

“Remove the cloth,” he ordered, and unfurled the sheet. It covered Saavi’s bare skin, forming a glossy barrier.

“Shouldn’t we have cleaned that, so she doesn’t get an infection?”

Lorran removed a slender vial from the kit. “No time. It is more important to stabilize. We’ll let the medics worry about the rest. Hold her arm.”

Wyn did, and Lorran injected the contents of the vial into Saavi. The moans quieted, and her breathing evened out.

“For the pain,” Lorran explained.

The ship tilted again, then shuddered. Mylomon grumbled something that sounded rather rude.

“That’s not good,” she said.

Lorran reached for her hand. “All is well.”

“I love you, but don’t lie to me.”

He tore open additional packets of sterile wipes. Carefully. he cleaned the splatter from Saavi’s face, arms, and abdomen. “I do not trust Caldar, but I trust his ability to survive. That one is difficult to kill.”

“So we get out of this because that guy is like a cockroach.”

“I do not know that insect, but it sounds vile. Yes.” Lorran pressed his fingers to Saavi’s neck, as if checking her pulse. In a quiet voice, he said, “I dislike this. The journey to the nearest med station will take too long.”

“What can we do?” she asked, keeping her voice low so Mikah could not overhear. He probably could, what with Mahdfel super-hearing.

“Caldar,” Lorran said, rising to his feet. “This one needs use of your stasis chamber.”

“Not now,” Caldar growled, eyes fixed on the screen. “You may not have noticed, but I am busy saving us.”

Lorran sauntered to the front and leaned on the back of the pilot’s seat. “Truly? Because I had noticed how you signaled the Suhlik to create a distraction to slip away.”

The ship banked heavily to the right. Wyn and Saavi slid across the floor. Loose items tumbled to the ground. Mikah clutched his harness but made no noise.

“Saavi needs the stasis chamber. She will not last long,” Lorran said.

“I don’t have one. Those are illegal for a private individual to possess,” Caldar replied.

Mylomon laughed, a hoarse, grating noise.

“Saavi does not have time for your games,” Lorran said.

“Saavi and Ulrik knew the risks.”

“Indeed. How does it feel knowing that one accomplice is deceased and the other a breath away?” Lorran’s tone was cold. Beyond cold. Frigid.

Wyn couldn’t see Caldar’s reaction, but even she felt the impact of Lorran’s words.

“Check under the floor panel,” Caldar said. “It is not mine, and I do not know how it got there.”

With some maneuvering, Lorran and Wyn lowered Saavi inside the stasis chamber. She had no idea how the machine operated. Fortunately, it seemed to be an automated process.

Left uncovered, blue and purple lights glowed from inside the stasis chamber. Saavi floated in a blue goo, as if asleep.

Caldar announced they were clear of the atmosphere and would jump into drive. That was all the warning they had before the floor dropped out of the world. Wyn’s stomach felt like it turned inside out, and her eyes hurt. How was that a thing?

Lorran caught her—apparently, she slumped forward—and stroked her back. “Breathe. It is only a moment’s discomfort.”

The scents of filthy smoke and coppery blood clung to his clothes. Wyn was sure she was no prize herself at the moment, but she closed her eyes and counted his heartbeats. She thought she knew what she wanted, a strong alien to protect and worship her, but she was wrong.

She wanted quiet moments to count heartbeats, just the two of them. She wanted his shameless flirting, cocky grins, and unswerving confidence. She wanted to go on all the disaster dates with him: ghost ships, haunted amusement parks, murder motels, or whatever terrible idea they cooked up.

He made her forget this wasn’t a honeymoon or a holiday. They were on a mission with real adversaries who had killed and would kill again. Okay, in all fairness, Lorran did not make her forget the danger of their situation. He constantly reminded her to wear her armor and forbade her from venturing out of their room alone. The walks on the beach and the dancing under the disco lights lulled her into a false sense of security. She was so caught up in the excitement of falling for a Mahdfel that she ignored the realities of falling for a Mahdfel.

Their lives were dangerous. Always. The fight with the Suhlik never stopped, not for a honeymoon or a walk on the beach.

She wanted years and years with Lorran, and that could have ended that day.

Because he was an idiot.

“A knife, Lorran?” Wyn batted at his shoulder, then pulled away. “You ran right at that Suhlik with a knife.”

“My favorite knife.” He grinned, white fangs against lavender.

So help her, she had never wanted to punch anyone so badly in her life.

“You can’t do that,” she said, her voice thin and choked with emotion. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. “You can’t take risks like that. I need you. I just found you, and I can’t lose you.”

She pressed her fingers to her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

“You are leaking because you are sad,” he said, sounding completely like an alien who had never encountered human emotions.

“I’m not crying, and if I was it’s because I’m scared and frustrated and tired and maybe my blood sugar is crashing, and all of this is a perfectly reasonable reaction. I’m not…I’m not a soldier. I’m a fucking painter. This is too much, Lorran.”

“You are correct.” He rummaged through the med kit and produced a ration bar. “Eat.”

“I think I’d rather be emotional,” she said, but tore into the ration bar. It tasted like sawdust, but she dutifully chewed.

He moved her to sit in his lap, safe in the security of his arms. “You did not lose me.”

“But I will if you keep leaping before you look. And all this has been a typical day at the office for you, hasn’t it?”

His arms tightened. “No. Not typical, but I hear your words. I will think before acting.”

“And wear your damn armor,” she muttered, but she didn’t think it would be enough. This is what Lorran did. This was his purpose, and the anxiety and the stress would tear her apart. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to face what it meant to share a life with a Mahdfel.