by Leslie Chase
No. It was too awful to think about. And too awful to risk, as well.
"What will it be, humans?" Karaos said, smug sadism filling his voice. "Take the money and run, or see the little human burn?"
20
Zardan
Zardan woke groaning in pain, his entire body on fire. His wings hurt worse, their injuries still not healed, and the agony that shot through his back made his body shake as he pried open his eyes. The room around him seemed to shimmer before his eyes, and he heard a rushing noise.
It was only when he saw a sheet of paper blow past him on the wind that he realized what was happening. He was in an airlock, and the outer door was opening. The air around him rushed out into the near-vacuum beyond.
Emperor's Blood, he swore as he pulled himself to his feet, his hands digging at his belt for his airmask. It was gone.
He tried to remember his training. Every dragon warrior learned how to deal with a sudden vacuum, and just like all the others he'd forgotten it within a year. No one actually expected to use it, not when they could shift into their warforms and hold their breath for hours. In humanoid form, though, he would only live for minutes at most without air.
Don't hold your breath. That much Zardan remembered — if he tried, his lungs would burst and fill with blood. Keeping his mouth open, he let the vacuum take his breath away. Now he wouldn't have long before he passed out, but at least if he found air he'd be able to breathe it.
Looking around quickly, he tried to take stock. He was in a vehicle airlock like the one Gillian had left her crawler in, and if it hadn't been for the human vehicle parked next to him there might have been space to shift. As it was, he'd be crushed in the small space even if his injuries allowed him to make the shift at all.
Beside the vehicle lay Graxon, unmoving on his back. Zardan quickly checked the other shifter for a pulse and found nothing. Perhaps it was just too weak to find in a hurry, but Zardan doubted it.
I'll shed no tears for him, but this is no way to treat a dragon warrior's corpse. Not even a cowardly traitor like Graxon.
His own corpse would be treated just as shoddily if he didn't get out of there quickly. The outer doors were only open a crack, enough to let the air out but not enough for him to escape through. A quick test of the controls showed him that they'd been disabled. He could neither close the doors nor open them. He turned back to the inner doors, his vision starting to blur and darken as his body called out for oxygen.
Above him, a thick glass window looked down into the chamber and behind it Zardan saw two of the security staff watching with a frightened intensity. They hadn't expected him to wake up, Zardan realized, and they weren't happy to see him on his feet. Well, that was fair. He wasn't happy to wake up in here either.
And when he got his hands on them, he intended to share that pain with them.
First, he needed to escape. Slamming his fists into the inner door, the boom of the impact almost silent in the near-vacuum. Zardan hammered on the door, but it was futile. The door was solid metal, and barehanded he couldn't even dent it.
With a snarl he turned back to the guards, who looked relieved at his predicament. No help there. And the room was starting to spin around him. He only had seconds to find a solution before he passed out.
Can't find another way in while I'm trapped in here. Can't get into the station from here. Can't stop to think.
But I can't fail, either. Gillian needs me.
There was a control panel beside the door, but of course it was dead. He ignored it, digging into the ducting beside it. The cable from the controls showed him where it was, and he had to hope — yes!
Tearing aside the cover of the cable duct, he saw pipes as well as wires running there. And some of them looked big enough to be what he was looking for. Grabbing them, he discarded subtlety and pulled with all his strength. The metal resisted, bending slowly as he pulled. Bracing a foot against the wall he tried again.
The metal gave, just a bit, and he grinned. His vision was fading from lack of air, but he could just about make out the horrified confusion as the guards watched him struggle. This wasn't in their plan.
Tough luck, he thought, heaving again. This time, the pipes tore away from the wall. One sprayed water everywhere. It was the other one he was interested in, though, bringing it to his mouth and inhaling deeply.
Sweet oxygen filled his aching lungs, and he almost laughed. There had to be an air pipe in an airlock but it was sheer luck that he'd been able to find it. He breathed again, deeply. Despite the oily, metallic taste of the piped air, it was the finest breath he'd ever taken.
Zardan's vision cleared quickly, and he looked up at the glass again to see the humans looking at each other and shouting. He could imagine what they were arguing about: someone was going to have to try and come into the airlock to deal with him, and no one wanted that honor. Zardan didn't blame them.
He wondered if they'd try and wait him out, but that would only work if they knew they had complete control of Fuller Station. Otherwise the damage he'd done would draw a maintenance crew in, and the guards wouldn't want him to be here and alive when someone else arrived.
Sure enough, the discussion wound down quickly while he sucked on the life-giving air pipe. All bar one of the humans left the room, and Zardan knew that they'd be on him in seconds.
But this time he'd be ready for them, and wouldn't let them keep him from his mate for another second longer.
The outer door closed, as it had to before the guards could open the inner one. No one built airlocks to let both doors open at once, and overriding that failsafe would set off all kinds of alarms.
Zardan took the warning, letting go of the pipe just before the inner door slid open. A blast of air flooded the room from inside the station, and then the humans came charging in.
Which was exactly what Zardan had hoped for. Grabbing at the water pipe, he wrenched it completely free of the wall and swung it into the face of the first human to get through the doorway. It met the man's visor with a crack of breaking glass and sent him tumbling into his companions.
They scattered as he fell back amongst them, their stun batons momentarily knocked aside. And then Zardan was in amongst them, whirling his improvised staff in a deadly dance.
Striking the arm of the closest guard, he sent the human's weapon flying. Disarmed, he was no threat, and Zardan ignored him. The next struck at him, but off balance it was easy to deflect his attack. Zardan roared with a savage anger, grabbing the human by the throat and spinning him into the way of the remaining two. His human shield jerked and cried out as their stun batons struck.
Zardan threw him into one of the others and faced the last standing enemy head-on. The human charged, his stun baton crackling as he spun it with blinding speed. This one, at least, knew what he was doing.
But a dragon warrior trained from birth with all manner of weapons, and Zardan parried instinctively, drawing from that training. Each swing or thrust of the baton met his pipe, glancing aside as Zardan whirled his weapon from block to block.
He took one step back, then another, and knew that he had to finish this soon. The others were getting their bearings and he couldn't fight all of them at once.
The man fighting him was good. Unlike the others, he seemed to know his weapon, and this fight reminded Zardan of the knights he'd fought on Earth. Skilled and tenacious warriors, worthy of his respect.
I could beat him, given time, Zardan thought. But I don't have the time to spare. Gillian doesn't have the time.
Another step back, and he stepped to the side, trying to get behind the line of his opponent's defense. But the human was fast, managing a block that deflected Zardan's staff harmlessly. Grudgingly, Zardan admired his skill. The human wasn't as strong as he was, and his weapon didn't have anywhere near the reach, but still he held his own.
The return thrust was fast, electricity crackling around the head of the human's weapon. Zardan leaped back, barely avoiding the stri
ke, and then almost fell as his feet skidded in the water pooling on the airlock floor. His enemy didn't give him a chance to recover, pressing his attack with a ferocity that Zardan rarely saw in a human. And now, trapped between the parked truck and the wall, Zardan was hemmed in. His staff was too long to use effectively, and he was too big to move easily in the confined space.
He really is good. I hope he survives this, someone with these skills deserves better than to die here.
The moment he parried the next attack, Zardan threw his staff at the guard. It wasn't a good throw, it couldn't be in the confined space, but it was unexpected enough to make his opponent flinch as he knocked the weapon aside. And that was all the distraction Zardan needed to strike.
Jumping in, he threw a punch at the guard's face. The block was fast but predictable, and Zardan went with it, grasping the stun baton and guiding it into the flow of water from broken pipe.
With a loud crack the baton shorted out, but not before delivering a stinging shock into both Zardan and the guard. Zardan, though, was braced for it, and while his opponent was stunned he grabbed his staff again and struck. Once, twice, three times the metal pipe slammed into the guard's armored suit, and then the human fell back.
Two of the others had regained their feet, but they turned and ran at Zardan's approach. The others sat, cradling their injuries, and he strode past them into the station. There was no more time for any of this, not when his mate needed him.
The man in the control room cowered back as he approached, and Zardan towered over him. Hefting his staff, he looked down at the human with contempt. The others had at least tried to fight him. This one simply cowered.
"Where is she?" Zardan roared at him. "Where is my Gillian?"
21
Gillian
Gillian's father was the first of them to reach for a pen. It was a reluctant move, and it broke Gillian's heart to see it, but she couldn't argue with it. Looking away from him, she reached for her own pen and copy of the contract.
She noticed her fingers trembling as she lifted the pen, almost as though she was watching someone else's hands. Everything felt so distant, and she could hardly hear Danforth's sigh of relief over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. With an effort, she brought the pen down to the paper, but she couldn't make herself sign her name.
Karaos' warning growl cut through her fugue and she looked up to see his eyes narrowing. The hate there was almost a physical force, and she could see that he didn't like having to rely on humans.
"What will happen to us once we sign?" she asked, more to buy time than for an answer. It wasn't as though she'd trust what they told her, anyway.
"You'll get your money and go on your way, of course," Danforth said smugly. But Gillian waved him to silence, not taking her eyes off the dragon shifter.
"I don't care what he says," she told Karaos. "What will you do with us?"
The slight smile that tugged at his lips told her that she'd been right. He didn't intend to let them go.
"You're annoyingly clever for a human," Karaos said. "I can almost see why Zardan likes you so much. Very well. You get to go free with the money, and my promise of your safety as long as you don't cause us any trouble."
"Swear it," she insisted. "Swear by your Thousand Suns."
Karaos bared his teeth at her, no longer amused. "Fine. By the Thousand Suns and the honor of my family, and by the Dragon Throne, I swear it. As long as you never speak of this or trouble me again, you are safe."
Gillian's hand trembled, the pen brushing the page. She bit down on her emotions. Is it even worth living if Zardan's dead? But it wasn't just her life on the line. For that, she might have spited Karaos and Danforth.
But if she'd already lost her dragon, she couldn't condemn her father and her brother too. Swallowing, she pressed the nib of the pen down and started to write. And that was when all hell broke loose.
The door exploded inward, torn from its hinges by the impact of one of Danforth's hired guards. Following him into the room came Zardan, bloody and battered but very much alive. In his hand he carried a long length of torn pipe, and before anyone could respond he flung it like a spear at Karaos.
The other dragon shifter leaped aside, his instincts faster than Gillian could follow. But he wasn't quite fast enough: instead of striking his heart, the jagged metal caught one of his wings and pinned it to the wall
"Gillian," Zardan called out as the others began to move. "Behind me!"
With that, he leaped forward into the fray.
The guards, taken by surprise by his sudden entry, scrambled to meet him. The first took a powerful punch to the face before he could get ready, sending him flying onto the table with a crash. The next grabbed for Zardan's arm, only to be swung effortlessly into the wall. Gillian stared at the easy grace with which Zardan moved and fought.
It was beautiful and awesome, a smooth and controlled whirlwind of battle which put himself between her and those who would do her harm. Battered as he was, he didn't let his injuries slow him as he laid into the enemy.
At the far end of the room, Danforth struggled to his feet, reaching under his jacket. Time seemed to slow for Gillian as she saw the gun in his hand. It was a huge pistol, heavy and slow to draw, and Gillian's heart almost stopped as he brought it up. The roar of a shot filled the room, deafening, and the bullet tore through the space Zardan had occupied a moment before.
He's too fast for Danforth, she thought. Prayed. But Danforth saw that too, and as the muzzle of his pistol dropped towards her she realized his plan.
He might not be able to hit Zardan, but he'd have no trouble hitting her. And Zardan wouldn't allow that. He was already moving, leaping between her and the gun, and she knew he'd take a bullet for her without complaint.
And she couldn't let that happen. Zardan couldn't sacrifice himself for her. So she did the only thing she could think of, jumping forward and trying to shove Zardan aside.
The heavy gold pen was a weight in Gillian's hand as she swung her arm up, and she let it go by instinct. Then Zardan's weight sent her flying, and the gun roared again. Gillian felt a tug at her arm, and for a moment wondered what it was. Her attention was on the pen which seemed, to her stretched perception of time, to tumble slowly end over end across the room. The pen was heavier than the ones she was used to, but her aim was true. She winced and looked away as the point struck Danforth's eye.
Then time snapped back to normal, and she sprawled on the floor. Danforth sat down with a howl of pain, the gun dropping from his hand, and Zardan shouted with rage. Karaos finally managed to pull his wing free of the improvised spear pinning him, snarling a challenge at Zardan.
"You puny whelp," Karaos shouted, ignoring his ally's cries of agony. "You'll pay for this."
"You've hurt my mate," Zardan said, in a steady low voice. "I will give you one chance to surrender. Take it, or I will kill you."
Karaos' only answer was a furious roar, and the two dragon shifters leaped at each other. The clash was too fast for Gillian to follow, and she scrambled back as the pair of warriors lashed out at each other. Her father grabbed her, dragging her back, holding her tight and looking at her arm in horror. Gillian glanced down too, feeling her face pale as she saw the bloodied torn sleeve. Swallowing she pulled it up to see the wound.
The bullet had scraped her arm, just barely tearing the flesh. If Zardan hadn't knocked me aside, she thought with a shiver and then stopped. No good would come of finishing that thought.
"Who is that?" her father whispered as they huddled behind the overturned table. Gillian felt torn between hiding and watching the fight in front of them. The fight that would determine whether they lived or died — she knew better than to think that they'd escape with their lives if Zardan lost here.
That decided her, and she shrugged off her father's grip to peer over the upturned table. As she watched, Karaos smashed into Zardan shoulder-first, the impact sending them both into the wall with enough force to sha
ke the room.
"Zardan," she gasped, grabbing her father's hand for reassurance. His fingers squeezed hers.
The impact hadn't knocked the fight out of Zardan. With a great heave, he threw Karaos off and drove his enemy back, punch by punch. Karaos blocked each blow, but they were taking their toll. Both dragons slowed as they fought, exhausted and drained by the battle. Gillian resisted the urge to cheer for her man, not wanting to draw attention to her hiding place, but under her breath she muttered a prayer.
"You can't win," Karaos hissed as the two circled each other. "You're tired, injured. I'm fresh. And I could always take you in a fair fight anyway."
Zardan growled, but the other dragon continued. "Flee, and I will let you live. I just need the ship."
"You have threatened and hurt my mate," Zardan said. The flat anger in his voice was frightening enough to make Gillian pale, and even Karaos looked unsure of himself. "I will not leave until you are—"
Mid-sentence, he charged, catching Karaos off guard. Ducking low, Zardan caught Karaos around the waist, lifting him and carrying him forward. Karaos roared in shock and surprise, raising his hands and beating them down on Zardan's damaged wings. Zardan's grunt of pain made Gillian wince, but he didn't slow or weaken his grip, even as Karaos drew blood. Instead, he set his course and accelerated.
Gillian saw his plan and her hands went to her mouth as Zardan, with a final agonized shout, threw Karaos back against the wall and the spear that was still embedded in it. Karaos' cries cut off as his momentum carried him onto the pipe and pushed it through him. One ragged end of the improvised spear protruded from his chest, leaving him pinned to the wall like a murderous draconic butterfly.
Zardan slumped to the ground, chest heaving and energy spent. Around him, fallen foes littered the ground, and Gillian clambered out from under the overturned table to run to him.
