by Stone, Layla
Music was humming in the background. It trilled with a female’s voice. The notes were high, and it made Yon’s jaw tense. Yon turned down the volume on his Minky so he didn’t have to hear it. “Even if I was thinking of coming, the music alone would turn me off.”
“Sounds like you need a drink. Come down, and I’ll cover you. When was the last time you took a night off?” Pax queried.
“I’m busy.”
Yon held his finger over the terminate button, about to push it, when he heard Pax say to someone else, “Where’s Yelena going? Oh…okay.” The question sounded a bit distant, so Yon knew that Pax wasn’t addressing him. “You should come down, give Yelena a tour. She’s asking a lot of questions. You’re the best person I know to answer them.”
Yon was hunched over the desk, remembering the nightclubs, the Demons that frequented those places, and how someone like Yelena would stand out. Not only because her skin glowed, but because she was the sweetest being he’d ever met. Soft-spoken and polite. She smelled like fresh snow and pim fruit. Every Demon would clock her the second she walked in. If Pax had any sense, he never would have taken her.
“Don’t let her ask any questions of the locals. They will pull her into a deal, and you know Federation rules can’t protect her. You’ve been there enough times. Answer her questions and make sure she stays where you can see her.”
Pax chuckled. “Too late, the locals love her.”
Yon’s insides curled. He needed to get off the call, or he would say something stupid, like that he was headed down. Instead, he said, “You’re a tarq,” then crushed his finger against the screen and terminated the call. He cursed. His blood pumped hard in his chest. He needed to hit something. Now.
Images of what could happen to Yelena filtered into his mind. Fears brought on by being too close to his home planet made the mental pictures worse. Pax would protect Yelena. Yon had to trust.
Stalking out of the office, he took the stairs two at a time and then navigated the long hallway to the training room. When he stepped in, he scanned the room. It was empty. Yon didn’t grab any wrist wraps or remove his Federation jacket. He walked to the nearest heavy bag secured at the top and bottom and unleashed his frustration.
Yon didn’t stop until his knuckles started to bleed all over the bag. He shook off the pain, watched his wounds heal from the internal medscope, and then he did it again. And again. And again.
Two hours later, he wiped the blood off the bag and his hands. He was sweating, breathing hard, and finally mentally at ease. Skipping the showers in the training center, he went back up to his cabin, threw his clothes into the cleaner, removed his boots and placed them back in their spot, then turned on his Minky screen. He checked the logs to see who was still down on the planet and who had returned. Pax and his group were still out. Rannn was, too.
His fingers tapped the side of his naked thigh as he thought. A few minutes later, he stepped into the cleaner, took a quick, hot shower, and by the time he stepped out, dripping wet, his skin itched with uncertainty. He knew the sensation wouldn’t go away until he went down to check on Yelena.
Twenty minutes later, he was landing his small sloop on the Demon port planet. He powered down the ship, unbuckled, and felt the wriggle in his stomach. Forcing himself to breathe through his nose, he made his way to the cargo area and pushed for the ramp to extend. The acidic air hit him a second later, and so did the taste.
Hands balled at his sides, Yon took precaution with each step, scanning the docking pad. A thief could jump out at any moment. No one was nearby, and the other ships in the row were nice luxury galleons. Taking note, he continued assessing each ship as he passed and paid special attention to the other males standing around talking with one another. Oddly, he didn’t see any other Demons—even though Yon was only half—until he slowed at the perimeter gate.
“Hey, Yunkin.”
Yon turned to a Red Demon holding a Phaser M-series. He was dressed in a black uniform with a Lotus Adaamas logo on it.
When did the docks get uniformed security?
The Red Demon told him, “You look confused or lost. Here’s what you do. Wait for the blue vehicle to stop, get in, tell it where you want to go, and it’ll take you there. Then, when you come back, you show me your identity or proof of ownership of your craft, and I let you back in. Got it?”
Yon didn’t respond. One, he was surprised that the male thought he was lost and confused. Secondly, was the security tighter than he remembered?
He already knew about the blue vehicles—Daamas Rounders. They had been around for decades. The hovering transport was waiting for him outside the gates. Yon scanned the blue interior before entering, expecting to see used needles, pressure vials, and used condoms, stains, or wet spots from recent use.
He didn’t see any of that.
Yon sat down on a soft yet firm seat. As if it had been newly refurbished or just built. He was grateful to catch a new one, wondering how long it would be until it was destroyed. The automated voice asked him where he wanted to go. Yon gave the command to go to Northend. It was where the nightclubs were. Once the Rounder moved, Yon pulled out his Minky and sent a message to Pax.
Pax,
What club are you at?
Ten seconds later, he got a one-word response.
Bellyache.
Yon had never heard of it. He updated the Rounder to take him there. He watched as the navigation screen changed to the new destination. None of the streets or surrounding businesses looked familiar.
When he arrived, Yon took in the scene. The building was clean, the people around the bar dressed for show, but none were drugged-out with sunken-in cheeks or glazed-over eyes. A miracle. He searched the dark corners and parking lot for lurkers but didn’t see any. Outside the bar stood two Krants in security shirts.
Before entering, Yon was scanned for weapons and pressure vials. Things have really changed.
Entering the bar, the first thing Yon noticed was that the walls had been replaced by floor-to-ceiling tanks of water. Blue lights along the tops and bottoms gave the water a seductive and calming appearance. Inside the containers, blue-skinned Roth Demons with makeup added to their skin swam. They shimmered and shined with strips of cloth covering their sexes, and gems covering their breasts. The water dancers twisted their bodies as if they were continuously moving to music only they heard.
Some wore colorful coral in their hair, and some had fake fins on their feet and back, giving them an ethereal look. But all of them wore clear breathing masks over their mouths and noses.
One of the females with blue and pink lips tapped on the glass when he passed by. He glanced her way. She winked at him and then twisted around like she was blushing or acting shy.
Yon shook his head. The water dancer didn’t look drugged or abused. Her cheeks were full, her eyes bright and alive, even her smile looked genuinely flirty.
The bar was exposed, and the farther he walked, the more he saw happy drunks of all races. Pockets of sweaty bodies danced on the floor, though none looked as if they were being paid to dance. It was an assortment of men and women, moving with the music and speaking too loudly.
The last time he’d entered a bar, it was to meet a female he’d dated on Adaamas. They’d ended up fighting about his test results for the Federation Academy. He had tested in and had been accepted. Was leaving the next day. She’d told him that he was making a mistake. And then he’d told her that she was an ignorant nip.
Not his best moment. Unfortunately, the female’s brother had been—conveniently—at the bar and had overheard what he said. Yon was dragged outside and ended up taking on the brother and five of his friends. By no means did Yon win that fight, but he kept fighting until a massive Red Demon laid him out. He woke up the next morning, in an alley, stripped bare and smelling like piss.
As angry as he was, he ultimately didn’t care because he was able to make it to the transport ship before it took off. Watching the onboard navigation
screen from the cargo seat, he’d vowed to never step foot on the planet again.
He’d kept his promise all these years. Until now. He closed off his memories.
Yon scanned the large space for Pax. There was a half-moon-shaped ledge on the other side of the room. His friend was leaning on the bar instead of sitting in one of the high chairs. Pax threw back his head and laughed.
Yon made his way through the bodies, scanning for Yelena as he did. He took the empty chair next to Pax and sat. His friend slapped his big hand on Yon’s shoulder. “Hey, you made it.”
“Thought I would stop in for a minute.”
Pax turned and used his arm to fan the room. “This is called a bar. It’s where people spend time together drinking.” The male was mocking him. That was nothing new, and Yon didn’t take it personally. He had made his peace with Pax.
“Twenty keleps says he leaves in less than half an hour,” a male sitting to Yon’s right said.
Yon peered down at the thin wisp of a male. “Do I know you?”
Pax touched his mouth for a second, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. The slip of a male held out his palm. “I’m Ekhov. I work with Vivra. I’m a member of your crew.”
Yon didn’t shake the male’s hand. “I don’t know you.”
The male dropped his arm. “No, you don’t know me. Glad we cleared that up, Commander Yon.”
To Pax, Yon asked the question that had forced him down to this hellhole. “Where’s Yelena?”
“She left with Clalls to go to…the jewelry district.” The jewelry district was in Eastend. A thirty-minute drive from Northend. At least she wasn’t at another bar or at a ring fight, but the fact that she’d left with a scummy Night Demon hybrid still bothered Yon. The itch in his skin pricked again.
“You let her go with Clalls? You don’t even trust the bastard with your wife.”
“Mate,” Pax corrected.
“Same thing,” Yon argued.
Pax narrowed his eyes for a moment and then smiled, albeit blandly. “Yelena is an adult, Yon. Clalls invited her to go with him, she said yes. They went. They’ll be back.” Just as he said that, Pax looked behind him, and his face hardened. Yon followed Pax’s line of sight. Clalls sat at a small table in the corner. He was snapping his teeth at a female with wine-red hair, a black cloak bulking around her midsection. Not because she was curvy but because she was probably concealing a weapon.
“That’s a Rana,” Pax pointed out.
A paid contractor—assassin, kidnapper, whatever job needed doing, they would do it. But Yon didn’t care that Clalls knew a Rana or that he was probably making a deal. “That’s Clalls without Yelena.” Yon moved from his seat, a curse on his lips, and his mind tunneling forward. He knew this would happen. Knew it.
Yelena was somewhere on the island without protection.
“I’m leaving,” he announced.
“I win,” Ekhov said with a victorious fist in the air.
Yon glared at Pax. “Good job, Commander of Weapons and Tactical Response, you sure know how to protect your weakest crew members.”
Pax held out a finger and pointed it in Yon’s face. “I’m glad she’s not here to hear you say that.” He lifted his finger with a slight hum, then twisted, circled, flipped and flopped it like an idiot. After about five seconds, he finally stopped. “She’s heading back to the docking pad. Take a Daamus Rounder, and you’ll see her running along the side of the highway.”
There was no way Pax knew that. “Stop playing around and call me if she comes back. I’m going looking for her.”
Pax pulled Yon’s arm and yanked him back. Yon was already primed to fight so he told Pax with a tight voice, “Let me go.”
Pax let go of his arm and pointed to his neck where the cerebral blocker was supposed to be. “Sci has her mind in the background. I just asked if he knew where she was. He said she’s near the main highway.”
Sci was a Cerebral, a telepath, a race that was forbidden in Federation space. But Rannn had been able to get Sci a waiver to stay because he was married to Sasha, the Federation pilot who had taken Yon’s job. “You’re lucky you have the Cerebral to cover you, but you and I both know you should have been watching Yelena better.” He was glad Sci had been able to find her.
Pax rolled his eyes. “His name is Sci, and he’s saved your life twice. Stop being a tarq and use his name. And just so you know, Vivra bet me that if you did show up, it would only be to see Yelena. You may think no one noticed, but we all noticed your interest in her.”
Yon didn’t care what any of them thought. He was doing his job. Keeping the weak safe from the soulless predators. He left Pax at the bar. No way was Yelena going to be safe running around in Lotus Adaamas alone. He would bet all his money that someone would try to stop her or pick her up.
If anyone touched her, slipped her a drink, a pill, or anything, he would rip off their heads.
Yon saw a couple getting into a Rounder. He grabbed the male by the back of his shirt and pulled him out. He didn’t touch the female, all he did was give her a look that said, “don’t argue.” The female got out, and Yon stepped in. After the door had closed, the automated voice called out, “Enter your destination.”
“To the docks. Quickly.” Yon hoped he made it in time. He also noted the Rounder was just as clean and free from debris as the last one. Things had changed on Adaamas from when he was a boy, that much was evident. Maybe Rannn wasn’t insane for sending several hundred Flourgs down here to live on the island. But that didn’t mean the place was perfectly safe.
5
Saved Again
Yelena’s lungs were heavy, and her mouth was dry. The air stung her throat; it was hot, thick, wet, and made her clothes cling to her skin. The night sky was dark black, and she stood out like a walking light stick. She needed to hurry and get back to the ship before anyone else stopped her as she ran along the main highway towards the space docks.
The planet was nothing like she had hoped. No high mountains, green trees, plants. Nothing beautiful. And she didn’t see another Flourg as she traveled from the bar to the Eastend near the jewelry district.
The Eastend wasn’t horrible, but when she’d asked for help, she was told that she needed to do something for them in return. No one answered a question without asking for something. And most of their questions were rude or insulting.
As soon as she realized that she had been left by Clalls, she’d taken off and headed back to the docks. She used her memory to recall the map from the blue vehicle.
In her periphery just then, she saw another pull over. She ignored it and just pumped her arms faster, lifting her legs to push it.
Go away.
“Hey, wait, glowey lady. Do you need a ride?”
She answered by running faster. It had been so long since she’d run that she was winded, sore, and her feet were rubbed raw in numerous places.
Whoever stopped took off again, leaving her to jog in peace. Ahead of her, she could see the lights from the dock. She estimated maybe another hour of running and then she would finally make it.
Seconds later, she noticed another blue vehicle pulling over to the side of the road. With great effort, she pushed off her toes, lifted her legs, and began sprinting.
“Yelena!”
Someone was calling her name? Yelena stopped running and pivoted to see who it was. Her foot hit the ground at the wrong angle, and she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees. A white-hot stab of pain raced up her leg. She cursed before using her dirt-coated hands to push herself up. Pulling herself to her knees, she could feel her ankle start to throb, and with each second, a pulse of pain shot up her leg.
Two strong hands grabbed her under the arms to lift her up. She screamed and kicked out but to no avail. Turning, she looked at her attacker and saw Yon’s hard and angry face. But in that moment, all she saw was a familiar savior. Yon.
Fear gone, she wrapped her arms around him. “It’s you.” Closing her eyes, s
he held his neck, feeling a million times better knowing that she was going to be okay. Yon, the warrior, the strongest person she knew was here. No one would bother her now.
Yon let out a breath, and his arms dipped under her legs. Picking her up, he carried her against his chest like she weighed nothing. When they reached the blue vehicle, he gently placed her on a long bench before following after her. Yon was tall, his head almost hitting the roof. After he’d sat down, Yon reached down and took her foot. She jerked from the pain, and his hand froze. “It needs to be elevated.”
The pain was tapering off from the last jostle, and she knew that if it happened again, it would subside eventually. Yon must know what he was doing, so she agreed. “Okay.”
This time, he watched her as he gently lifted her ankle into the air. His massive thigh slid under her leg so he could use it to lift her foot. The elevation wasn’t horrible, and her ankle wasn’t shooting with pain. It was, however, throbbing. But she didn’t want to look weak in front of Yon so she didn’t let the discomfort show.
Of all the people that could have stopped, Yelena was surprised that it had been Yon. Not that he wasn’t perfectly honorable. He was. He was also a high-ranking officer on the ship and probably had a thousand important things to do. None of them should have been rescuing a stranded crew member on the side of the highway.
She couldn’t help but take in his dominating presence. Even the air around him gave him pause and respect. His shoulders were square and fit snuggly in his Federation jacket. His jaw was sharp with a few scars like a well-seasoned male’s should be.
“Thank you for stopping, Commander. I really appreciate it.” Her voice was soft.
Yon glanced at her and looked her over as if he were looking to see if anything else was wrong. Her father used to do that when she stayed away from the house for too long. She almost smiled at how honorable and caring he was. When he glanced over her ankle, he said, “It’s swelling. You need to see Ansel when we get back.”
