by Aubrey Cara
“The excitement?”
“Word of your hearing has spread. I’ve been told they are now turning citizens away.”
My hair snaps in agitation. “What kind of spectacle will this be?”
“Whatever kind you make it, missus.” He smiles, gold zipping back and forth along the discs on either side of his head.
It’s clear they’re all hoping I make it a good one. With I sigh, I climb into a domed twelve-seat vessel and sit down.
My time with the Pacnarish has shown me they are can be difficult creatures to read. If things digress into my word against Kechlyn’s, I have no idea whose side the council will take.
It’s not until our small vessel lifts and moves out from behind the large ship we arrived in that I get my first glimpse of the city on the horizon. Full daylight illuminates a pale-blue sky behind great towering white structures, all domed at the top. I recognize it from my visions.
As our shuttle blends into a continuously fast-moving stream of shuttles heading into the city, I get a better look at the buildings and goings on. All the Pacnarish wear their white tunics, but other species walk along the ground or zoom past in shuttles in all different forms of dress.
My eye catches on one of the buildings. It’s perfectly clear, and it’s as if at each level the lifeforms moving about are suspended in air.
We wind around, my stomach swooping up into my throat as the shuttle dives down a tunnel. Lights flash as we traverse through and then out into another sort of docking bay filled with smaller planetary shuttles.
Our shuttle zooms past it all, only slowing to a stop when we reach double doors.
I file out of the vessel behind two of my Pacnarish escorts, Pan beside me to my right. They all resume the same positions they had when exiting the ship, and I wonder if they are my guard detail. They are quite the contrast to my Monrok mates.
Mates.
I never thought to have mates, or be anyone’s honored. And if the council doesn’t believe me, I still may never know.
From the shuttle, we step directly into a glass compartment that rises up the side of the white structure, going higher and higher. Light stings my eyes as we break out from the underground docking bay and have a clear view of the city. My stomach flutters more with nerves the higher we go, until finally we stop and the compartment doors slide open into the side of the building. The sound of water falling and hundreds of voices gathered beyond rushes in.
I take a deep breath to center myself.
“Are you ready for this, missus?” Pan asks with a hint of a smile.
Overwhelmed and unsure if I am, or ever could be, it takes me a moment to nod.
He holds out an arm, indicating I should step out first.
We exit into a circular great hall. The towering space rises up stories above us to a domed ceiling. In the center of the space floats a glowing white crystal.
In a half circle on one side are layered rows of Pacnarish, various life forms I do not recognize, and Zapex. The other side has only three platformed rows, and they are empty. Water runs along one wall, creating a peaceful, melodic sound of nature.
I scan the crowded platforms, searching for my Monrok. I almost let out a happy cry when I spot them across the great space, fierce hunger shining in their eyes as they make their way toward me. My warriors. My true guards and protectors.
Relief hits me like a tidal wave. I didn’t realize how much I feared never seeing them again. That what we shared was just an illusion conjured by my lonely mind.
A giddy rush rises in me, and, for a moment, I unintentionally float on air. I force myself to calm, and settle back on my feet, but I have drawn attention. My escorts alone gape at me, their skull discs flashing with color.
Heat creeps up my face, but I’m too relieved to care.
Tawn is the first to crush me against his chest. “Du’rah, we can never be separated from you again.” He sweeps me up, and I nuzzle against him.
Ast takes me from him, twirling me around before pulling me in and burying his face in my neck. “You say the word, and we’ll take you away from here,” he says at my ear, before kissing my nape.
Then I’m in Banx’s tight grip, his arms and presence soothing me in a way only he can. “I never knew it was possible to miss anything the way I missed you.” He cups my face, pressing his lips to mine. “We are here with you, du’rah. Don’t forget that. No matter what is decided, you’re coming with us.”
I must have appeared skeptical, because Jor growls and winds his hand in my hair with enough force that the sting of it sends prickles down my spine. Heat blossoms in my core as his mouth takes mine, mating me so fiercely all sound fades away. Reaching an arm up to twine around his neck, I forget where we are and pull him closer.
Part of me wants to forget all of this and beg them to take me away from here.
He groans and pulls back.
“If it were up to me,” Jor says against my lips, as if reading my thoughts. “We would take you out of here now. Let the Zapex destroy this city and the galaxy be damned.”
His words bolster me. Help remind me why I have to do this. “You know I won’t do that. I’ve come too far.”
“Pfft,” Jor says. “I’ve yet to decide if any of these beings deserve to be saved.”
Ast laughs. “Good thing the fate of the galaxy isn’t up to Jor.”
“No, it’s up to them,” Banx says nodding his head in the direction of the once-empty side of the room.
I look up and the top platform now has nine Pacnarish sitting in high-backed hover seats. They all wear the simple white tunics of their people, but their bearing is more regal than the casual observers. Shoulder straight, chins tilted up, they gaze out at the audience in watchful Pacnarish fashion.
“Are they the Galactic Unity Council?” I ask.
“Aye,” Jor says.
Pan clears his throat, obviously trying to get our attention. I turn toward him, and he bows his head. “It’s time.” He holds out a pale, yellowish hand, and we follow the tall, thin Pacnarish to the center of the room.
There is a smattering of Zapex who send scornful looks my way. A part of me wavers. The young, lonely veran in me who only wanted to feel like she belonged threatens to crumple. That part of me knows they’re going to hate me all the more when they hear what I have to say. It will not matter to them I’m doing this in hopes of saving them all, as well as the people of Jun’pn galaxy.
I’m about to become a true traitor and outcast to my people, the Zapex.
Banx places a steadying hand on the small of my back as if he knows I need it.
It helps strengthen my resolve. I think of Pyn and all the Pacnarish who I’ve met on the voyage here, and the city full of intergalactic species who will all perish if the council is not warned.
We take our place where Pan indicates we stand, front and center, facing the council. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Kechlyn. He’s staring right at me, his familiar eyes swirls of blue and green.
I fight my natural instinct to shrink away and make myself less noticeable. He’s standing directly to the left, on the floor level where I will be addressing the council. His face is pulled down in disgust as he looks over me and my Monrok. But that isn’t what has caught me off guard or twists my stomach into a sick knot. It’s the sight of Pippen with him.
The sight of him shakes me to my core.
My mentor and only friend in the universe for half my life is battered, his face a mess. He’s covered in bruises, one eye nearly swollen shut, both lips puffy and split. We Zapex heal rather quickly, so this has to have been fresh. Possibly done for my benefit. To show me what will happen if I talk. To punish me.
My hair ripples and snaps, needle-point bolts of static sparking off my hands. Jor, Ast, Banx, and Tawn follow my gaze, each of them drawing up to their full heights and blocking me in.
Pippen sees me stare and mouths, Trust your fate. Be brave.
I think back to that night. He�
��d said he knew his fate, and that it was tied to mine. Did he know this was going to happen to him? He had to have. Damn Pippen.
Emotions war inside me.
“Is that him?” Jor asks, deadly intent written on every tight line of his body. “Kechlyn?”
They’re all in battle stance, I realize with a jolt. They’re going to tear my old master apart right here on the gleaming temple floors, in front of the council and audience of citizens. Spectators. Too many watch with avid interest.
My new mates think my upset is due to my old master, but that is only half true. While the sight of Kechlyn is unsettling, the devastation gripping me stems from the condition Pippen is in.
“We’re here to warn the council of what may come.” I infuse calm into my voice as I touch each of them, trying to defuse the situation. Their lethal stares do not waver from my old master.
“You’re crying,” Banx points out, his voice low and gruff.
“We should kill him for that alone,” Ast growls.
“Aye,” Jor agrees, moving as if to step in front of me.
I wipe at my cheeks in embarrassment and harden my spine. “Please. Banx. Ast. Tawn. Jor.” I tug Jor’s arm to get his attention, only because I think he’s the least likely to listen to reason. “It’s not the sight of Kechlyn I find distressing. It’s the gearan. We were friends.”
Four sets of identical blue eyes move from the gearan to me, assessing.
“There’s no reason to attack Kechlyn. I promise.”
Their shrewd gazes narrow on me, and I fight to not squirm.
“Fine. He’s a hadhr who deserves death,” I whisper hiss at my four stubborn mates. “And I hope to make him pay for every gearan he tortured. But now is not the time.”
And I truly do hope the time will come. I want him to pay for daring to raise a hand to Pippen, the only being I actually believed Kechlyn capable of caring for. The being who cared for me when I believed no one did.
One by one, Tawn, Ast, Banx, and Jor back down. Or their version of backing down, which is to still surround me, but with their thickly muscled arms crossed over their chests, not down by their sides, poised and ready to kill. They appear no less menacing, though Tawn looks as if he’s fighting a smile.
I raise a questioning brow.
“Such foul language from our honored mate.” He takes my fingers, lifting my hand to his lips.
I send out a bolt of electric current, shocking him before he can press his mouth to my knuckles. He shakes out his hand, no longer hiding his smile.
“I like this bloodthirsty side of you, du’rah.” Jor says low.
Heat infuses my face.
Then the council members stand, drawing my attention. The one in the center raises her hands, and a hush falls until the only sound is that of water babbling over the stone wall.
“It is time.” She looks directly down at me, her discs zipping with silver and gold. “I have to say, veran, this is the most unique of situations ever presented to us.”
I bow my head. “I’m grateful to the council for this hearing.”
“Tell me veran, what makes you worthy of being granted your freedom?”
The question catches me off guard. I was getting ready to tell her about why I’m really here, but I square my shoulders and meet the eye of each of the nine members of the council. They’re all Pacnarish, yet they’re supposed to represent me and all the other races in this galaxy.
For the greater good, they do not interfere with individual planetary laws and norms, but it’s clear they’ve also never tried to understand the cultures and divides many of us suffer.
“All veran are worth their freedom. As are all gearan.” I pointedly look to Pippen’s battered self. A few on the council frown; some appear surprised. “All beings in the Jun’pn Galaxy deserve to be free, even when they’re born into what is perceived to be a lower caste, or a less advanced race,” I tell them. “But that is not why I’m here.”
Gold and silver zip over the council speaker’s discs. “No, you’re here because you’re wanted by the Zapex for reasons that are unclear. And because you’re the only veran in known history to flee Jar’jn. And if that were not exceptional enough, you have mated yourself to not one, but four Monrok warriors.”
“With all due respect, that is how I got here, not why.” I glance back over to Pippen and draw myself up. “The world of Jar’jn is dying. The mountains have erupted to the point land is becoming scarce.”
“While this is a travesty, why are you telling us this?”
“Because the Zapex don’t just mean to overthrow Pacbar and the Jar’jn galaxy.” I take a deep breath, meeting all their gazes steadily. “They plan to eliminate at least half the population of the galaxy, and take Pacbar for their own.”
Shocked and angry murmurs erupt from the sea of spectators. My Monrok move even closer around me as Zapexians shout, “She lies!” “Hearsay!” “Terminate her!”
The speaker of the council rocks back on her heels. Her discs are pulsating silver and gold, now. She lifts her hands for silence, but it takes much longer for the crowd to die down.
When there is quiet, her gaze locks and holds on mine, and her face is unreadable. I cannot tell if she believes me or not.
“You’ve made a bold claim, veran. How did you come by this information?”
“I’m formerly of House Kechlyn.” I point directly where he stands with Pippen. “He serves on King Thaain’s high council. I was present when he and other high council members were making these plans.”
The speaker of the Galactic Unity Council hums in thought. “Kechlyn, did you know this veran was going to tell us these things?”
“No, I sincerely apologize,” he says, not sounding sincere or sorry. “Let me take her back to Jar’jn. She will be punished for her infractions this day.”
Growls rumble from Ast and Banx. Jor snorts, as if he finds Kechlyn ridiculous. Tawn’s hand is in my hair as if he just needs to touch me or reassure me that’s never going to happen.
“What of her infractions on Jar’jn?” the speaker asks. “What were those?”
Kechlyn pauses. “She left Jar’jn without permission.”
“And why did you leave, veran?”
“Kechlyn was ready to breed me. His honored mate was furious. She drugged me, beat me, then ordered me killed. I knew I not only had to flee Jar’jn, but find my way here to Pacbar. There are those of us who do not want to see the galaxy destroyed. I knew if I left I could warn you and all of Jun’pn Galaxy of the treachery the Zapex has planned.”
“Mmm, I did not know veran were capable of breeding.” She glances at Kechlyn, then back at me. “Were you in favor of being bred?”
“Yes and no,” I say honestly and can now feel my Monrok’s gazes on me. “Veran like me are intentionally kept from being sterilized, so I always knew it would happen. I was curious what it would be like. Excited about the possibility of creating life, but scared of the life my young may face.” Which is still the case.
“Are you breeding now?”
“Yes.” The confession is out before I can think to hold it back.
Everything stills. Hundreds of gazes weigh down on me with near-suffocating focus.
The whispered murmurs begin before the Speaker asks, “If you’re carrying Kechlyn’s child—”
“I am not,” I interject. The implication clear. I glance behind me where my Monroks’ brows are furrowed in varying degrees of realization.
The murmur of the crowd turns to a ripple of voices.
“Traitor!” Someone yells from behind us.
From the corner of my eye I see a ruffle of blue silk robe and a flash of metallic light.
Everything moves in slow motion, but happens in an instant.
Without hesitation, I surge forward, hands out. I deflect most of the blast, but heat singes my right shoulder. Thick strands of my hair knot themselves to stop the burn.
A rogue Kechlyn still stands, holding the blaster. His e
xpression is one of pure, arrogant disdain.
A scream rises in my throat as the barrel turns toward Pippen. This blast I’m too late to stop.
Pippen’s face registers shock. His hands clutch his abdomen. Then he just drops.
As if outside myself, I redirect the air currents with such direct force the blaster turns in Kechlyn’s grip. The air shivers with the sound of the blast. My old master’s head jerks back as he falls in a flutter of vivid blue robes.
Hands snatch me, pulling me back. It’s Ast shoving me behind him. The hall is filled with the sound of terrified shrieks and shuffling feet as the audience flees.
Suddenly, I’m surrounded. Shielded. My Monrok have boxed me in and face the panicked crowd on all sides.
My heart pounds painfully.
What just happened?
What have I done?
Just as suddenly as chaos erupted, everything quiets.
Tawn shifts, and I catch a glimpse of the speaker, her head bent, disks glowing and arms out. I turn in the direction of the audience and gasp. Everyone is locked in one great macabre frozen sculpture of chaos.
“This is no longer an open hearing.” A different council member stands at the end of the platform and addresses the hall. “We will have calm while clearing the hall.”
Slowly people start moving as if thawing from their frozen states. Many look around, their roving gazes still carrying panic, but they shuffle out the doors.
I try to push past Banx and Ast. Locked shoulder to shoulder, they are an impenetrable wall. Huffing with frustration, I drop down, crawling out from between their legs, and race to where Pippen lies unmoving. Unblinking.
My chest constricts as I drop to my knees.
“Pippen,” is all I can managed to choke out, but I want to rail and scream.
Leaning over, I rest my cheek on his chest, just like I used to when I was small child newly sent to Kechlyn’s house, scared and alone. There’s no steady beat of his heart under my cheek. No rise and fall of his chest.
I rest here as I had so many other times and do not feel the cold hard floor under my hip. Do not register his skin growing cooler by the moment.
