by Lizzy Bequin
And most of all, she wanted some kind of revenge for those Terramaran females who had died. After all, she was one of them now.
All her life, she had been taught that revenge was a bad thing. That it would consume you. Instead you should work for peace and try to make amends.
Now, however, she wanted blood. She wanted more than anything to write her story so that the bastards at Galen Group like Waylon Burgess would be brought to justice.
It didn’t matter, though. That story would never get written, and she had to accept that fact, just as she had to accept her new life here in the empty city of Ashlar with her three alien mates.
Corrie had been lost so deeply in these thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed Vorne’s arm gently slip around her shoulders. She hadn’t even noticed the way her body leaned into his hard, muscled torso. The way her head naturally rested against his chest as she gazed off into the depths of the canyon stretching away into shadow.
As she enjoyed the protective comfort of Vorne’s embrace, Corrie realized that she was unconsciously fiddling with the gold wedding band on her finger, the one that had been part of her elaborate disguise.
That ring brought a new thought to her mind.
“Vorne, did you…” Corrie paused, unsure whether she should finish her question, unsure why she was even asking it. “Did you have a mate? A Terramaran mate, I mean.”
The alien’s eyes stayed fixed on the sky, but his gaze grew distant, as if he were looking beyond the sky, beyond time and space, staring back into the depths of memory. His face was set. His jaw ticked. He did not answer, and the moment stretched out into uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry,” Corrie whispered. “It’s none of my business, I—“
“Yes.”
Vorne’s voice came out hoarse and choked.
“Yes, I had a mate before. Her name was Ayla. She was very strong. She bore me two daughters. Twins. Leeza and Vonia.”
Corrie just stared at him silently. She was surprised by the emotion in his voice and the expression of deep mourning that had come across his face. She knew Vorne was capable of strong emotions. She had seen the depth of his rage and the heights of his lust.
But Corrie had never seen this, never even suspected that Vorne was capable of such an emotion.
A sad smile curled the corner of his mouth.
“I had hoped for sons,” he said quietly. “I had hoped to train them in the ways of the Terramaran warrior. I confess, when I first learned that she had born daughters, I was disappointed. But then when I held them for the first time…”
His words became caught in his throat. Moisture seeped from his eyes.
Corrie realized that tears were accumulating in her own eyes as well.
“Vorne,” she said, “I’m so sorry…”
She reached out to touch his arm, but the alien whirled away from her with that terrifying speed of his, and stormed off down the bridge, disappearing into a tall, arched door carved into the solid stone. A moment later, Corrie heard the sound of a furious roar echoing within, and the drumming of heavy fists slamming against the walls.
Corrie wept. She listened to the sounds of Vorne’s agony and realized that he carried that pain around with him all the time.
She had been so selfish. So petty. Her whole purpose in coming to this planet was to get her precious story. It was just another stepping stone, a means to an end, an opportunity to get ahead and reclaim the fame and fortune she had once known.
Now, however, she was faced with the reality of what had happened here on Terramara.
Numbers and statistics were one thing. To think that millions of females had died so that Galen could profit—it was too horrible to think about. But that was only an abstraction.
Now she was faced with the individual pain of one story, and it hit home even harder.
Moving with quiet apprehension, Corrie stepped into the hall, which had now grown silent. Her bare feet made no more sound than a cat’s. Vorne was sitting in the middle of the corridor with his back to her. The walls beside him were cracked as if they had been blasted with cannons.
Corrie stepped between the chunks of broken stone scattered on the floor from Vorne’s violence. When she was close enough to touch him, she reached out one tentative hand and placed her fingers gently on the rippling muscles of his back.
Immediately, she drew her hand back with a gasp as if she had touched a hot stove.
She had felt it. Quite literally, she had felt all of the anguish that was churning inside of Vorne’s heart. Like a zap of electricity, it had traveled straight from his body into hers via that fleeting touch, and it brought more tears to Corrie’s eyes.
Corrie hesitated for a long moment, then she touched him again.
This time she held her fingertips there, then her entire palm. She accepted all of that psychic pain. Perhaps she could not heal it completely, or even at all, but at least she could share it with him.
She wanted to share everything.
Vorne did not try to stop her.
Slowly, Corrie lowered herself behind him, hugging her arms around his broad back—it was like trying to hug a massive tree trunk—and pressed her tear-moistened cheek to his back. She could hear the drum-beat of his heart, deep and ponderous inside him.
They stayed like that together for a long time.
Gradually Corrie’s emotions morphed from sadness to anger. Now she knew beyond all doubt that she wanted revenge against the people who had caused her mate so much pain. She didn’t just want to bring the bastards to their knees.
She wanted to put them in the fucking ground.
And she had a plan for how to do that.
“Vorne,” she whispered with her cheek still pressed to his back. “Do you still have my old eyes?”
CHAPTER 24
“Absolutely not,” Vorne said. “It’s out of the question.”
Corrie and her aliens were gathered in a spacious chamber that had once belonged to one of the noble houses of Ashlar. A massive archway on one side overlooked the canyon, and occasional green sparks drifted upward from the lava below.
“But I have to go too,” Corrie insisted. “It’s the only way for the plan to work.”
She was dressed in her new black loincloth and top, standing in front of Vorne with her hands on her hips in a defiant posture. The alien warrior towered over her, and in his palm he was holding the contact lenses—the ones that Corrie had used to sneak into the facility.
“It is too much of a risk for you to go, Corrie,” Vorne said firmly. “If one or even two of us males should perish, then so be it. But you are the last fertile female left on Terramara. We simply cannot risk losing you.”
Corrie didn’t like the idea that any of the males might die. She also sensed that there was more to Vorne’s protectiveness than just breeding.
Still, it was important that she be a part of this.
“Listen,” she demanded. “I’m going and that’s final. I’m the only one who knows how to get into that facility.”
Vorne poked at the contacts in his palm.
“I’ll just put these into my own eyes,” he said. “There is no reason for you to go.”
Corrie shrugged in frustration.
“I mean, that might work, but the security system doesn’t only require the iris scan. There are three steps.”
Now it was Grekh’s turn to jump into the conversation. He was leaning against the stone wall, studying the vocoder device that Vorne had kept. In addition to the voice Corrie had used for her Mike Peterson disguise, it also still contained Waylon Burgess’s vocal signature for getting past the facility’s security door.
“Right,” Grekh said. “They will also check our voice.”
He placed the vocoder against his thick throat, and when he spoke again, his voice came out sounding like Waylon Burgess’s syrupy drawl.
“How I sound?” he said in broken English.
Corrie shivered. Hearing that awful man’s
voice again was uncanny. And the fact that Grekh had spoken those words in his very halting English just made it even weirder.
“Please don’t do that again,” she groaned.
Grekh frowned and took the device away from his throat. He went back to studying it curiously.
“But Grekh is right, Corrie,” Vorne said, still towering over her, dominating her with his shadow. “We can use the contacts and the speech device ourselves. There is no point risking your life.”
Corrie lifted one fist from her hip, unballed it, and wagged three fingers in front of Vorne’s face.
“Three,” she said. “There are three factors for the security check. You know what the third one is?”
Now she just held up one finger—a single fingertip in front of Vorne’s glowing eyes.
“Fingerprints,” she said. “As much as I don’t like to think about it, I’ve now got that asshole Burgess’s prints burned into my own damn fingertips. So unless you plan on literally slicing my fingers off and taking then with you, then I’m coming.”
Vorne stared way too long, as if he were seriously considering her suggestion. He shook his head.
“There’s got to be some other way,” he growled. “Between the three of us, Xalleus, Grekh, and I can smash that door down.”
“No way,” Corrie said. “I’ve seen it. You guys are strong, but this is a military grade blast door we’re talking about. There’s no way you can just brute force your way through it.”
Vorne tugged at his beard and thought.
“Then we’ll find this Burgess, chop off his hands, and use them to get inside.”
“How will you find him?” Corrie half-shouted in frustration. “What if you can’t find him? Vorne, listen to me, I have to come with you. I’m quite literally the key that you need to get inside the facility.”
A long moment stretched out where neither one looked away—two pairs of glowing green eyes locked in disagreement.
It was Xalleus who finally broke the silence.
“I think Corrie is right.”
During the argument, Xalleus had perched on a ledge on the far wall, on what had once been a carved shelf or table. He had remained silent for the most part, quietly considering both sides of the debate. Now he hopped down, his movement surprisingly light considering his bulky mass, and he strode to where Vorne and Corrie were having their little staring contest.
“Xalleus, you can’t be serious,” Vorne said without taking his unblinking eyes off Corrie’s.
“Oh, but I am serious, friend.”
Xalleus stood beside Corrie and faced Vorne.
“Look at her Vorne. She’s one of us now. She looks like us, speaks our language. And just look at her nubs. Soon she’ll even be sprouting horns. Corrie is as much a Terramaran as she is a human.”
“And?” Vorne rumbled. “What’s your point, Xalleus? Corrie may be a Terramaran now, but she’s also the last fertile female. We simply can’t risk it.”
Xalleus stretched out his arm and rested his hand on Vorne’s shoulder.
“My point is that this is now her fight as much as it is ours, Vorne. She has a right to go with us. She has a right to help us free the others.”
“That’s right,” Corrie added. “Vorne you have to let me help.”
“But Corrie,” Vorne almost whispered. “If you get hurt...”
“She won’t get hurt,” Grekh said. “We’ll be there to protect her.”
Vorne was silent. Behind his green eyes, Corrie thought she could see the gears turning.
“Brother,” Grekh went on, “think about what the Listener said. She predicted that a woman would come to our planet from the stars. You refused to believe her, but it came true in the end.”
“What is your point?” Vorne grunted.
Grekh placed a brotherly hand on Vorne’s shoulder.
“The Listener has also foreseen that the other warriors would be set free from their human prisons and that our world will be replenished. That prediction will come true as well. No harm will come to Corrie. I’m certain of that. I have faith. You just need to have a little faith too, brother.”
Vorne sighed and bowed his head.
“Fine,” he said at last. “The human will come with us.”
Even the usually stoic Vorne was unable to hide his surprise when Corrie threw her arms around him in a big hug. He smoothed his hand over her hair as she pressed her cheek against his chest.
“I just hope we’re doing the right thing,” Vorne grumbled.
CHAPTER 25
The black-sand desert was dark except for the halo around the Juvanis facility cast by the floodlights and the blinking lights on the various spires and towers. Overhead, the stars shone through a fissure in the thick covering of clouds. Although a hot wind swept over Corrie’s body, she still shivered at the sight of that place.
From her vantage point behind a volcanic boulder, Corrie stared at the hated facility—square, chunky buildings bristling with communication towers lit up like an ugly Christmas tree against the backdrop of the velvet darkness.
She hated this place for what had happened to her here. But even more than that, she hated it for what had happened—what was still happening—to the Terramarans.
Though Corrie was still human—part of her always would be—she was also one of them now.
Next to her, crouching protectively on both sides, were Grekh and Vorne. The older, bearded alien held his falchion clutched tightly in his fist. Corrie could sense the heat and tension from both aliens’ bodies.
Now that they were here, now that she was faced with the facility again, she felt nervous. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she wondered if Vorne hadn’t been right about leaving her behind after all.
But they needed her here. Her fingertips were the key.
She had to be brave now.
And it was the presence of her alien protectors that helped her do that.
“Do you think Xalleus is okay?” she asked, mostly to ease the tense silence.
Vorne nodded sternly.
“Xalleus knows what he’s doing.”
It had been several minutes since Xalleus had broken off from their group to circle around to the other side of the building, but with Corrie’s nervous anticipation, it felt even longer than that.
Xalleus’s job was to create a distraction.
All things considered, the Juvanis facility was not heavily guarded. The vast majority of the Terramaran population was now trapped inside this place, or in other similar facilities scattered over the planet’s surface. And as far as the Galen people were concerned, the remaining free Terramarans were little more than savages—barely a step up from animals. They didn’t pose any real threat.
Tonight, however, they were going to prove them wrong.
There were only two armed guards standing by the glassed-in entrance facing the massive landing tarmac. It was the same entrance that Corrie had used when she had first arrived and met Waylon Burgess, that bastard.
Even with their weapons, those two guards wouldn’t stand a chance against Vorne and Grekh. Corrie knew that. Nevertheless, their goal was to get into the seed-farming room with as little resistance as possible. Once they did that, and started freeing the other aliens, there would be no need for stealth.
An alarm sounded from the facility, a shrill, artificial sound that came to them over the black wasteland.
Xalleus had struck the first blow. His distraction was underway.
From her vantage point, Corrie could tell that the guards were speaking into the communication devices strapped to their shoulders. A moment later, the guards turned and rushed inside the buildings entrance. They were hurrying to the other side of the facility where Xalleus was no doubt wreaking havoc. Over the persistent shrieking of the alarm, there came the muted staccato of automatic gunfire in the distance, and Corrie’s gut clenched as she worried for Xalleus’s safety.
But this was no time for worrying.
It was time t
o move.
Vorne sprang into action, leading the way toward the facility. Grekh took up position in the rear, and in this way, the two alien brothers kept Corrie bracketed protectively between them. If they faced any attack, they would shield her from harm.
It was then that Corrie truly realized the full gravity of this situation. Up to that point, it had seemed almost like a dream. Now it was really happening.
They were storming the facility.
Adrenaline surged through Corrie’s veins.
Her body felt light and shimmery, not with fear, but with excitement. The possibility of death was very real, but somehow she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she was excited. She had never felt quite so alive before. All of her senses were heightened. It was like she could feel every warm grain of volcanic sand beneath her bare feet, could pick up and sort every scent of fuel and ozone from the landing tarmac. Even in the darkness, she could see as well as the brightest noon day back on earth.
Vorne had been holding back, running at half speed so that Corrie could keep up. As they neared the armored glass entrance, however, he broke into a full-on sprint.
Burgess had said that the entrance could not be breached by force.
Vorne proved that wrong.
With a roar, he smashed through the supposedly armored glass plates, which shattered and cascaded down his dark body like crystalline rain. There was a violent crash and shriek of rending metal as he tore through the steel door of the airlock.
Grekh slipped one arm around Corrie’s waist and lifted her with graceful ease, carrying her so she would not step on the broken glass and shielding her from the yellow sparks that were now raining down from the wrecked wiring.
Inside, Vorne was scanning the building’s interior. His muscles were rippling with tension. He looked feral, ready to tear to shreds anyone who dared get in his way.
But the coast was clear. Xalleus’s distraction was working.
“This way!” Corrie shouted, pointing down the corridor which led from the main lobby toward the blast door entrance of the farming room.
