by Delia Roan
She closed her mouth again. “What about your sister? Didn’t she find her Avowed mate?”
“She did. And she was happy. For a while. But happiness ends. Brykos died in the wars, leaving her widowed with a child. Cyndrae did what she had to for Thedi, her daughter. I am not Cyn.”
Mara licked her lips. “You could be. You could… leave here. Find your own place. Start fresh.”
Syrek laughed, but the sound was hollow. “That is not me. I was raised to be a warrior. To be a prince. To lead Haven.”
I found you on your hands and knees, with your head in a duct. Princes don’t do manual labor. “You’re more than you think, Syrek.”
“My sister integrated into Ennoi society. She ingratiated herself to powerful people. Climbed in the ranks. She is the hand maiden to a powerful Ennoi queen now, and will be soon named Honor Guard. I could not do the same. I could not kowtow. The Ar’Zathris do not beg.”
“You begged the Ykine for my life.”
“That was different. I was begging for you, not for myself.” He took her hand and drew her across his lap, until she straddled him, and she was eye to eye with him. “There is nothing I would not do for you. Do you understand?”
Mara swallowed back the lump in her throat. She could hear the hidden qualifier in that sentence, yet she was too afraid to mention it. Her hand rested against Syrek’s cheek, and he leaned into it, his eyes fixed on her as if he wanted to memorize every detail of her face.
The heat from his skin pressed in to her thighs, and she swallowed. She brushed her fingers down his neck, and the tips encountered the necklace. “Hey, you got to keep that, at least.”
“It is built for the Virtuous form.”
“That’s the-” She indicated a giant beast, and formed a claw, which she raked through the air.
“Yes,” Syrek said, with a small smile.
He raised his good hand to his neck and undid the clasp of his necklace. The heavy jewel dropped and Mara reached out and instinctively caught it, cupping the stone and her fingers against Syrek’s chest. His heart beat pulsed against the back of her hand. He drew the jewel from her fingers, and held it up, letting the light catch the flecks of red and gold within the yellow jewel.
“This is a symbol. A promise. It says there is no length I would not go to to ensure your wellbeing.” He pressed the stone into her hand. “It is for you.”
“Oh! I can’t accept this! It’s probably worth a fortune!”
“Is it an Earth custom to refuse gifts given with an open heart?”
Her cheeks grew hot at his gentle rebuke. Her fingers slid over the smooth surface. The stone was warm from Syrek’s chest, and she clasped the pendant to her bosom. “Thank you, Syrek. It’s beautiful.”
“Can you do the clasp yourself?” He indicated his shoulder. “I’m afraid I cannot help you.”
It took a few tries, but she got the necklace fastened into place. The heavy stone sat between her breasts. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Because you are my Avowed.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “Because I could not bear to see harm befall you.”
Mara smiled. He didn’t have to say the words for her to feel the strength of his emotions. Love filled his eyes, and for the first time since she stepped out of her car that night on Earth, Mara felt safe. She felt secure. And possibly for the first time in her life, she felt loved.
Maybe, just maybe, we will be okay. As long as we are together.
“Which is why I am sending you away,” Syrek said, his voice soft. “You must leave.”
“What?” Mara surged to her feet. “What are you talking about?”
Syrek sighed. “We can discuss this later. For now, accept that we must part.”
The word later sounded a lot like never, the way he said it. “You’re not trying to protect me from the Ykine. You’re breaking up with me.”
“I’m not the right person for you, Mara. You will never be safe here with me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’re giving me this jewel, you’re telling me I’m your soul mate. But we can’t be together?”
Syrek’s shoulders slumped. “I am damaged. Dangerous.”
She scoffed. “The old It’s-Not-You-It’s-Me excuse. A classic.”
“I don’t know what love is, so how can I love you the way you are meant to be loved?”
“The way I’m meant to be loved?” Her voice rose several octaves. “How am I meant to be loved, Syrek?”
“By someone who has time to devote to you.”
The words were like a slap across her face. Her father’s words echoed in her head: Not now, I’m busy. All of Dear Old Dad’s declarations of love had amounted to jack, too.
Whatever reply she would have given was interrupted by a clang at the door. She spun around, and Syrek hauled himself to his feet. He pulled Mara behind him. The door clanged again, and this time, the knock repeated in a tune. Syrek relaxed. “Go open the door.”
When the door swung open, Mara nearly hugged Ancain. His worried eyes peered into the room. “You need a medic, Syrek. And some pants.”
“It is good to see you, Ancain.” Syrek shot a glance at Mara, and she knew the conversation was over. Too bad. She still had plenty left to say.
“Come, we must move quickly.” He darted forward and Syrek leaned on him. “The Ykine have breached the hangar doors. We are currently locking down as many sections of the ship as we can.”
The rescue team had a light vehicle with them, and the mercenaries hanging off the sides were all armed. Syrek grunted as he sat, and Ancain wrapped a blanket around him. Syrek made room for her, but Mara chose a seat on the opposite side of the vehicle, squeezing in between a pair of mercs who eyed her with curiosity. She zipped up her overalls, hiding the Promise Stone from sight. If she was going to get her heart split open, then dammit, Syrek would not watch her bleed.
“We got an evac going?” Syrek asked.
“All non-essential personnel,” Ancain replied.
“Thinking ahead. Good man.”
“We can always recall our ships once the threat is dealt with.”
The vehicle hummed as it wound its way through Haven. Heavy doors opened at their approach and slammed back down once the vehicle passed. Mara felt uneasy as they drove through familiar corridors that usually bustled with life. Haven was silent, and the back of her neck prickled at the quiet.
“We need to take you to Medical,” Ancain said.
“We can do that after we visit the docking bay.”
“The docking-” Ancain snapped his mouth shut. “Ah.”
Mara sat with her shoulders hunched, feeling the weight of the mercs pressing in on either side of her. The Promise Stone sat on her chest, warm and heavy. What good is a symbol of promise when he won’t even consider being with me?
They reached the docking bay without incident. Unlike the rest of Haven, the bay bustled with crew. Many familiar faces hurried past, burdened with parcels. Mara spotted Bene Laupe and waved, but the alien was in too great a rush to pay attention to her.
When the vehicle pulled up in front of the caravel, Ancain helped Syrek down from the vehicle. To her surprise, Syrek approached her. The mercenaries beside her found reasons to slip away, leaving her sitting by herself, with Syrek staring down at her.
“This is your stop,” he said. “Time to go.”
“What?”
“Did you not hear Ancain? Haven is being evacuated. All non-essential personnel.”
“Which means me,” Mara said. “The little garden girl.”
Syrek said nothing, but gestured with his chin to the caravel. “I’ve arranged a space for you on the fastest ship we have.”
Mara wrapped her arms around herself. “And I’m leaving? Just like that?”
“It’s for your safety.”
She barked with laughter. “It’s for my own good. Oh, I’ve heard that line a lot in my life, let
me tell you.” She pursed her lips. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t own much.”
She hopped down from the vehicle and studied the crowds around her. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.”
“Mara,” Syrek said. “Travel well.”
She turned and marched away before she could second guess herself. Her eyes burned, but she kept her head up, focused on the caravel. At the top of the ramp, a familiar figure popped out.
“Mara!” Luall waved. She threw her arms around Mara and squeezed. “Oh, girl, it’s good to see you.”
Mara hugged her back. “You’re piloting the ship?”
“Yup,” Luall said. “Only Thoon pilot on this rig, remember?”
“Right,” Mara said. The corners of her mouth moved upwards, but the expression couldn’t be called a smile. It was too brittle and sharp. “I guess we’ve come full circle.”
Luall saw the look on her face, and squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”
The lounge was filled with sanitation crew, and when they saw Mara, they crowded around her, touching her shoulders and stroking her hair. Even Oyoyoi drifted over. The reunion set a warm glow in Mara’s chest. She sniffed and wiped her face.
“Where’s Gymari?”
“She’s on her way,” Luall replied. A step at the door made them all turn. “Ancain? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
Ancain stood at the door, his face drawn. He reached out his hand to Luall. “I have been relieved of my position.”
“What?” Luall hurried to his side.
“Syrek has let me go. He says he will not allow me to fight in my present condition.” Ancain cupped a hand around his belly. “He has given me an indefinite leave of absence.” He raised his stunned eyes to Luall. “There’s more. He’s given me — us, really — the caravel. As a wedding gift.”
“Oh, Ancain!” Luall threw her arms around her partner.
Mara averted her eyes from the joy on the pilot’s face. Luall’s giggles forced Mara to walk to the wide viewing port. She could see the expanse of space beyond, and for some reason, the stars seemed dull and lifeless. To the side, she saw the star Luall pointed out earlier.
“Low mass red dwarf,” Mara murmured to herself.
As she watched, the light blinked out as a fast-moving object zoomed between her and the star. Her eyes widened as she recognized the shape. The Sykorian ship.
The Ykine had left with their prize.
Her friends were gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SYREK
“Drive them to the left,” Syrek ordered. He raised his weapon and fired. The cannon snapped, sending a puff of high-velocity air across the hall and into the ranks of the approaching Ykine. Hit by the force of the wind, they flew backward. Syrek followed his shot up with a second one aimed toward the side of the enemy.
As predicted, the Ykine began to flow toward the left, where an open corridor would divert them away from the docking bay. Their carefully executed shots gave the mindless creatures no time to advance.
“It’s working,” Daves said. A bandage covered her temple and eye, but her shots landed true.
With the last push of the Ykine forced into the left corridor, Syrek raised his hand. The blast door slammed shut, trapping the bulk of the Ykine on the far side. Syrek, Daves and the rest of the mercenaries in his team picked off the stragglers trapped on the wrong side of the door.
“That should buy us some time,” Syrek said. They had herded the Ykine away from the docking bay, ensuring his people had plenty of time to escape. Now the Ykine would have to venture the long way around. “Check in with B-Team.”
Daves raised her hand to her ear piece. “This is A-Team, checking in. You get your section sealed off, B-Team?” She frowned. “No reply, boss.”
Syrek’s lips thinned. “Let’s get back to the war room.”
When he entered the war room, he was greeted by a low-level communications specialist.
“They’ve made off with the Sykorian ship,” reported the specialist, scurrying to keep up. Large monitors filled the walls, showing various interiors of Haven on the screens.
Syrek took a deep breath. “Any word from B-Team?”
The specialist winced. “We lost them.”
Daves cursed. “All of them? There were four dozen on that team.”
“Did they succeed in their mission?” Syrek asked.
“Yes, boss. They sealed off all passageways to the docking bay, save the one we planned on keeping open.”
“Good,” Syrek replied.
“But the Ykine warship is still attached to our hull. We’re estimating at least a thousand Ykine workers and warriors making their way through Haven.”
Syrek flopped into his father’s chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest. Grooves had been worn into the stone from countless generations of first Haukt commanders and then Ar’Zathis rulers. The command post had been well-used in his father’s time, but Syrek avoided the war room when he could.
But in times of war, one must prepare for battle.
“How many fighters are left?”
“With the last ship loaded, we’re down to seventeen support personnel and twenty-three soldiers, sir.”
Twenty-three. The number set warning bells ringing in his mind. Twenty-three was not an army.
“Has the caravel left yet?”
“Just departed, sir.”
A knot of tension in his belly relaxed. He could fight with a clear conscience, knowing Mara was heading toward safety. She should be by your side, whispered his traitorous mind. Where she belongs.
“Thank you.” Syrek dismissed the specialist and Daves with a wave of his hand, and dropped his attention to the screen in front of him. His injured arm rested in a sling, and he wore his uniform again. But he felt unsettled. As he watched the insectoid aliens overrun his ship, he felt a deep sense of loss. They had thrown every barrier up, but the Ykine flowed onward. They didn’t care for their fallen comrades. Their hive-mind didn’t have room enough for individual thought.
And Haven is made of nothing but individuals, Syrek thought.
Haven’s glory lay in her space warfare capabilities. With the enemy inside her walls, she was helpless to fight back.
He looked up to find Daves watching him with concerned eyes. “Yes, Daves? What do you require?”
“Sir, if I may ask a question?” At his nod, she continued. “What’s the plan, sir?”
Syrek became aware of the many eyes turned to him. “Hold positions,” he said. “We wait to see if we need to pull a miracle out of our asses.”
At his words, a ripple moved through the remaining mercenaries. These were not people who feared death. They faced it frequently. They returned to their tasks, loading guns, counting explosives and sharpening blades.
His eyes flicked back to the monitors, where he saw the galley swarmed with Ykine. They ate the food from the shelves and gnawed on the tubing. Water sprayed out across the floor. When every scrap had been devoured, the horde moved on. Even when the last Ykine was dead, Haven would be an uninhabitable husk, floating dead in space.
What would Father have done?
His father would never have been in this situation to begin with. He would never have deactivated Haven’s cannons. He would never have flinched at killing a hundred innocent souls for a paycheck. And his father would not have hesitated to order twenty-three soldiers to their death.
Taking a long, shaky breath, Syrek stood.
He didn’t need to say anything. The room fell silent, and all eyes focused on him. Syrek took a moment to survey the people in front of him. Some he had hand-picked himself, while some had come highly recommended by others. Over the years, he had seen hired hands come and go.
It was time for this lot to go.
“Suit up,” he ordered. “Get yourselves to the docking bay. We’re doing a full ship evac.”
The
mercenaries said nothing, but Syrek noted the relief in their faces.
“Get going.”
At his command, the crew broke up, scrambling to gather up their equipment. The war room doors opened, and they began to stream out to the waiting vehicles.
“Sir?”
“What is it, Daves?”
“The last vehicle is leaving, sir.”
“Understood, Daves. Be safe.”
“Sir, it’s the last ride.”
“I know.”
“What about you, boss?”
“Someone has to monitor the situation here, Daves.”
“Sir,” Daves said. “Is that the best choice?”
“This is my ship, Daves.”
She paused. Whatever she saw on his face made her nod with understanding. “Yes, sir.” Daves hesitated. “Do you have a message for Haven’s crew?”
“Tell them to meet at New Trades. Ancain is heading there. He can be our point of contact.”
“Will do, sir. May your skies be clear.”
“Yours too, Daves.”
Daves left him alone with his thoughts. He listened to the vehicles buzz away as he watched the screens. The Ykine swarmed the living quarters. He saw them dip into the floor, scurry across beds, rummage through boxes, seeking out every edible scrap. On a separate screen, he saw the mercenaries board a ship. Within a few moments, they blasted away.
For a moment, he stood in the dim room, watching the Ykine tear apart his home. Failure danced on his tongue. Generations of Ar’Zathis looked down upon Syrek with disappointment and derision. When everything was on the line, Syrek had proved he was not strong enough to hold Haven.
Only two more tasks left.
He picked up his comm unit and sat back in his seat. With trembling fingers, he dialed Cyndrae. As the comm cycled through its process of encryption and sent signals bouncing through space, he ran his fingers along the ridges of his horns. When his hand brushed the flat front of his uniform, he started before realizing his Promise Stone was with Mara.
Finally, the call connected. He exhaled when Cyndrae’s prerecorded message flashed up. Her hair in neat braids, her hands clasped before her. “Brother. You have terrible timing. Record your message.”
