by S. E. Smith
“Wow! This turned out pretty cool,” Taylor said, rubbing her eyes before they widened. “My backpack!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Where did you find it?”
“I found it in the rubble,” Hunter said with a smile. “I recognized it immediately from all the patches you have on it.”
Taylor eagerly pulled it into her lap and unzipped it. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the pictures she had stowed inside. Her fingers touched the cracked glass. It could be replaced. Fortunately, the picture of her, Jesse, Jordan, and their dad remained undamaged. Raising her eyes to Hunter, she gave him a watery smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Hunter’s expression softened. “I’m glad that it was found,” he said in a gruff voice before turning to Razor. “We had better be going. I want to put as much distance as possible between us and the patrol. Once Achler realizes we survived, he’ll come looking for us.”
“Where are we heading?” Taylor asked, repacking the picture.
“We will have to head north before we can curve around to the east. The Western faction has patrols all along the borders,” he explained.
“But… That’s the way the other captives were heading,” she said in concern. “The guy with the purple eyes told them to head to the mountains of the Crescent Moon.”
“They know the Western sector well enough to know how to avoid them,” Hunter said with a shrug. “If they don’t, there is not much we can do about it.”
Taylor sighed. “Being a soldier sucks,” she muttered, clutching her backpack to her chest.
Saber touched the bruise on her chin. “There is never a good side to war. Many innocent people are the ones who truly suffer,” he murmured. “A true soldier does what he can to protect them.”
Taylor rubbed her cheek against his hand before sitting back as the skids moved forward. It was a little jerky at first as the men tested the best speed and distance apart to travel to keep the items they had salvaged and Taylor, Saber, and Lonnie from flying off. Saber quietly explained that they built a frame with supports before covering it with a large tarp and attaching it to the three remaining skids.
“Your idea was brilliant,” he said. “We were able to bring additional weapons, as well as essential survival equipment like food and water that the others salvaged.”
Taylor shook her head. “You’re right, I am brilliant,” she teased. “I would have thought of the food and water before the weapons.”
Saber’s expression sobered. “Weapons can be just as much as a necessity, Taylor. This is a lawless land. Without a way to protect yourself, food and water will do little to save you.”
Taylor sighed and looked at Lonnie. Saber turned his head, following where she was looking. Her face was so expressive. He could sit and watch the different emotions dance across her face all day.
He saw that she was staring at the boy. Lonnie was leaning against a box staring out at the desert. The boy looked so young. He couldn’t remember being that young. He turned his gaze back to Taylor. Both she and Lonnie’s lives had been torn apart when they were just beginning. At least he had known a stable home life, where he could be young before he began his training.
He reached over and ran his finger along her hand, smiling when she immediately turned it over so she could wind her fingers through his. A satisfied smile curved his lips. He had been such an idiot the past five years.
“How is your leg?” she asked, tightening her fingers around his as if afraid her question would cause him to pull away from her.
“Stiff,” he admitted. “I went to the healer the day I found out about your disappearance.”
Taylor looked up at him. “What did he say?” she asked with a slight tremble in her voice.
Saber sighed and looked down at her briefly before returning his gaze to the desolate landscape. His right hand moved down to rub his leg. He squeezed her fingers.
“I should have talked to you,” he admitted. “The bone wasn’t healing correctly. Too much of it had been shattered. The first healers who attended to me were able to clean most of the fragment out and repair some of the damage done. I wasn’t able to do much physical therapy due to the bone not healing, and the area around it continued to fracture.”
Taylor nodded. “I’m surprised they didn’t amputate your leg. I saw the scans. I’m not a healer, but I could see the extent of the damage. The nerves and muscles were in bad shape, too,” she said. “After your third surgery, the healer highly recommended removing it and fitting you with a robotic leg, but you refused.”
“How did you see the scans?” Saber asked, scowling down at her. “Are you telling me that you’ve known all along what has been happening?”
“Of course,” she replied with a sigh. “I had Jordan hack into your medical records. Every time any updates were done, I was sent a copy of it.”
A grumble of disbelief escaped him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, shaking his head.
Taylor chuckled before she leaned over to brush a kiss to his lips. “Because I knew that you would probably have stopped going to the healer. You can be very hard-headed when you get your mind stuck on something. I was afraid if you knew, you wouldn’t let me come over anymore. I followed along with the recommended therapy from the healers. It was important to keep your other muscles strong. With the damage to your leg, it would throw off your posture and would affect the rest of your body,” she explained.
“And if it was necessary…,” he paused and drew in a deep breath before continuing. “What would you have done if they had decided to take my leg?”
Taylor leaned into him. “Love you, help you, be there for you, and love you some more,” she replied.
“Shewta!” Saber whispered, shaking his head. “You must truly love me to have put up with everything I put you through.”
Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, well, payback is a bitch and I think she had puppies in your case. I still remember your comment the day I left. I’ve had plenty of time to think of how you can grovel. I’ve come up with a ton of really good ideas,” she remarked with a teasing smile. “Is there any water?”
“Yes, in the bag to your left. Get one for Lonnie, as well,” Saber replied. “The heat will dehydrate you both more than it will us.”
“Show off,” Taylor teased before turning on her hands and knees to reach for the bag.
A low rumble escaped Saber as his gaze swept over the curve of Taylor’s ass. He turned when he felt another set of eyes on them. Ace’s gaze was glued to Taylor as well. He shot the other male a look of warning.
“She’s mine,” Saber snarled.
Ace raised an eyebrow and looked at Saber’s wrists before he glanced over at Taylor. “I don’t see your mark on her,” he replied.
Saber’s hand moved to the rifle at his side. “She’s mine,” he repeated. “Do not challenge me, Ace. I will kill for her.”
Ace didn’t reply. His gaze flickered to where Taylor was sitting next to the boy. Saber watched the male until he returned his attention back to the landscape. Pulling down his MMOS, he zoomed into the distance. Over the fortress, he could barely make out a fighter transport firing down into the structure. It would appear Achler decided he didn’t want to take any chances.
Prymorus Achler leaned back in his chair and stared moodily at the holographic map. In the background, he could hear several men talking, including the Kassisan that had been ‘assigned’ to him. He didn’t trust the bastard. He fingered his drink as he thought about what had happened during the night.
The Kassisan had saved his life, but if he expected any special consideration or appreciation for that fact, he was in the wrong company. The Waxians were mercenaries. They liked to kill and they liked to make money. Most of the time, they did it for both, but on a few rare occasions, they did it for pleasure. The one thing they never did was keep a dangerous enemy for too long.
Cordus Kelman had done that. The Drethulans had hired a dozen Waxian warlords to do two things: d
eliver enough weapons to destroy the Alliance forces and discover the Trivator’s weakness. Kelman’s detailed records of the Trivator he used in the fight rings had shown them that when it came to fighting – and surviving – the warrior species were second to none. The fact that Kelman’s experiment earned him a fortune was proof of that.
He had been doubtful when the other Waxian told him about his plans. Capture several Trivators and use them in the fight ring to observe how they fought, what their endurance and pain level tolerance were, and how long they could keep fighting.
Prymorus had an idea that the Trivator would still be making Kelman credits if the bastard hadn’t killed him. The only good thing that came out of Kelman’s experiment was finally finding the Trivators’ one weakness… their females. The Trivators might protect those that are weaker, but as Razor had proven, they could also look the other way if it meant destroying an enemy – except when it came to a female that was under their protection.
Which meant a mated Trivator would do anything for his female, including not attacking those that held her as a prisoner for fear of harming her, Prymorus thought, playing with the knife as he continued to study the map.
“You appear deep in thought,” the Kassisan commented, walking toward the table where Prymorus was sitting.
A flash of anger went through him when the huge bastard placed a bottle of his most expensive liquor down on the table and poured two glasses. He watched suspiciously as the man pushed a glass in front of him before sitting down in the chair facing him. His gaze was drawn to the man’s hands.
“I don’t remember inviting you to partake of my best liquor, Dakar,” Prymorus snapped, leaning forward to snatch the bottle from across the table.
Dakar chuckled, fingering the glass before slowly raising it to his lips and taking a sip. Prymorus watched as the Kassisan seemed to savor it before swallowing. A small part of him wished the fiery liquor would burn a hole through the man’s chest.
“It is too good to waste sitting in a bottle and growing stale,” Dakar replied with a shrug. “The fighter transports destroyed the fortress, why waste time and resources on returning there?”
Prymorus turned his gaze back to the map. “I’ve sent a patrol to make sure that nothing survived. I don’t want to take a chance of any of those Trivator warriors making it out,” he growl in frustration. “The girl was key to my plans. She is under the protection of two of the most powerful Trivators in the Alliance.”
“Did you ever find out how she escaped?” Dakar asked, looking at the fortress. “It is a long way from the tower to the lower catacombs where the other prisoners were being held.”
Prymorus’ gaze narrowed and he shook his head. “I was too busy trying to kill those Trivator bastards to investigate. It seems strange that they missed you as you were wandering around the fortress. They killed many of my men before the alarm was sounded, but somehow passed you by,” he observed.
Dakar simply raised his drink and took a sip. The man was too cool, too controlled, and too lucky for Prymorus’ taste. Dakar had departed The Hole on the Bruttus Spaceport in the Tessalon galaxy shortly before the Drethulan, Jolin Talja, was killed. A group of Trivators had arrived to rescue the other caged warrior.
Last night, Dakar had appeared out of the shadows and pushed him out of the line of fire that would have killed him. What bothered him was that he had seen the Kassisan in action. He never missed his target, yet last night he had missed every time he aimed at one of the Trivator warriors.
“I’ve sent a patrol back to the fortress to make sure there were no survivors,” Prymorus added, sipping his drink. “I’ve also ordered increased patrols along the border. We need to harvest as much ore as possible.”
“Production is at full capacity,” Dakar replied with a raised eyebrow. “The workers are already stretched as far as they can go.”
“Extend their shifts,” Prymorus ordered, staring at Dakar over the rim of his glass. “I also have a mission for you.” Dakar’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything. “I want you to kidnap the Trivator Councilman’s woman.”
Distaste flashed across Dakar’s face and a bored expression settled over it. Prymorus watched in amusement. He was curious to see how lucky the Kassisan was at infiltrating the Trivator forces. He was also testing the Kassisan. The male was always arguing with him about the mine workers.
“I believe you killed her when you blew up the fortress,” Dakar finally said with a wave of his hand to the hologram. “That might be a rather messy mission.”
Prymorus sat back in his chair. “Not that one, she was not his woman, merely one under his protection. I want you to kidnap Razor’s female.”
Dakar grimaced. “It would be better to kill me now,” he replied dryly. “How do you propose I kidnap this woman? If I remember correctly from the reports, the last time someone tried to kidnap a Trivator’s woman, it ended badly – for the Waxian stupid enough to try it. What is the use anyway? Both Razor and Hunter are dead. The fortress, remember?”
Prymorus’ lips tightened. “Are you refusing?” he asked in a quiet tone that held a hint of malice in it.
Dakar released a deep sigh. “The Drethulans hired me to make sure you Waxians were following through with their end of the agreement. I do not work for you or any other member of the Waxian forces. The fact that I saved your ass last night was beyond my normal job guidelines. I simply did it so that production of the needed ore would not be delayed. Do not attempt to order me around, Waxian. Your species aren’t the only ones who enjoy killing.”
Prymorus placed his empty glass on the table and stood up, his hand moved to his side where he kept his laser pistol. His focus remained glued on the steely-eyed male still sitting across from him. His fingers moved to his waist, but paused. Sweat beaded on his brow. The Kassisan was too confident, and a feeling that he was suddenly in mortal danger washed through him. His hand relaxed back down to his side.
“Be careful who you threaten, Kassisan,” Prymorus growled in a soft tone. “The Drethulans can always replace you.”
Dakar casually rose out of his seat, his own blaster in his hand. The smug smile on his face was not reflected in his eyes. Prymorus’ fists clenched by his side; he had been right. The bastard probably had his weapon trained on him the entire time.
“All of us are expendable,” Dakar replied, not bothering to sheath his weapon. “I suggest you not forget that, as well, Achler. The Drethulans are expecting an update.”
Prymorus watched as Dakar’s gaze flickered to the hologram image of the fortress once more before he stepped away from the table. The Kassisan didn’t turn all the way until he could step out of the room. Prymorus leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of him in aggravation. He angrily stared at the map.
“I want a report from the patrol,” he ordered, turning his attention to one of the men directing movements at the communication console. “Tell them to sift through the rubble until they find every single one of the Trivators’ bodies.”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied, turning and conveying the message to the patrol team.
Chapter Twenty
Taylor handed a nutrition pack to Lonnie. She smiled down at the boy. He returned her smile, but it quickly sagged in the intense heat.
“It will cool off in a couple of hours,” she murmured.
“I know,” Lonnie replied.
She picked up several of the drink packs and carried them to where the men were standing, looking off into the horizon. Her eyes swept over Saber’s tall form. Pleasure and pride washed through her. A rosy blush that had nothing to do with the heat suffused her cheeks when he turned and watched as she struggled to climb the small sand dune.
“I know you guys are big, tough warriors, but I also know that dehydration doesn’t care about that,” she said, smiling up at them.
“Thank you, Taylor,” Hunter replied, reaching for one of the packs.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensi
ng the tension in the air.
Saber nodded to the horizon. Taylor turned to see what he was looking at. Her eyes widened when she saw the thick, black sky. She had been on the planet long enough to know what it was – one of their intense storms. There had been a half dozen of them in the last six months. The worst ones happened in the Western region, but the East was not immune to them.
“Oh, shit!” Taylor breathed out. “That’s a whole lot of sand.”
Ace chuckled, reaching for one of the water packs. “Yes, it is,” he replied, ignoring the low growl of warning from Saber.
Taylor wrinkled her nose at Saber. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked with a worried frown as she handed the rest of the men their packs. “It’s too dangerous to remain outside. The sand will slice through us.”
“There’s a cut in the sandstone,” Razor said, focusing in on the area. “Hopefully there will be a cavern cut out in the rock face. The nomads in the area use them.”
“Can we make it in time? What about the skids? I thought they needed to cool off,” she said, turning to look at Saber.
Saber’s grim expression was enough of an answer. They didn’t have a choice. If they didn’t make it, they would die. Turning, she jerked to a stop when she saw a line of dust rising in the distance in the direction they had come.
“Saber,” Taylor whispered, staring in horror.
She vaguely heard the men’s soft curses. They were trapped; in front of them, the massive sandstorm; behind them, the patrol.
“Let’s go,” Saber growled, grabbing Taylor’s hand and pulling her back toward the skids.
She half ran, half slid down the slope of sand to the bottom. Her gaze swept the area, focusing on Lonnie, who was lying in the shade under the catamaran. He crawled out when he saw them running toward the skids.
“What is it, PT Taylor?” he asked in a frightened voice.
