by Ivy Barrett
She made a bland gesture with her hands, then told him, “She gushed information like a geyser once she realized Bron wasn’t impressed by her demands. She told us everything she knows. I’m sure of it.”
“I agree,” Bron reinforced. “Zapt needs to be caught, but it’s highly doubtful we’ll learn anything new from him.”
LeAuntiez only nodded and they lapsed into silence for a couple of minutes.
Bron was thrilled with the progress they’d made, yet frustrated by what remained undone. Primarily Erin’s rescue. Every member of the Brokvata had searched for her yet not so much as a trace had been found. Kyla hadn’t mentioned Erin in the last day or two, but Bron knew she worried continually about her missing friend. There was a small chance Erin had actually made it across the wasteland and was now with her relatives in Waco. Unfortunately, the Protectorate officers assigned to Waco had been unable to confirm the fact. If Erin were stranded somewhere in the wasteland, each day that passed made it less likely that she was still alive. A well-trained survivalist would find the environment challenging. A pampered rich girl had no chance at all.
“I think we should jump on this,” Bron said, drawing his mind back into the present. “There’s no reason to delay. It’s been a while since I piloted anything larger than a shuttle, but I—”
“You’re going to stay at headquarters where you belong,” LeAuntiez insisted. “Your safety is my responsibility, Chancellor Savator. Leave this to the Brokvata. These sorts of situations are why we exist.”
Bron crossed his arms over his chest as annoyance pulsed across their link. “If Zapt weren’t hiding among humans, I’d tell you to fuck yourself, but this really should be a straightforward mission. He’ll either be where Nunez said and you’ll apprehend him, or he’s left the planet and we’re all screwed.”
LeAuntiez stood and stretched out his back. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Who are you taking with you?” Bron wanted to know.
He shrugged. “The usual. Urrya and Oseth. They’re the best pilots I’ve got.”
“If only they’d get rid of that witch doctor, I’d agree with you.”
“Witch doctor?” Kyla looked at LeAuntiez when Bron didn’t elaborate.
“Azra is half Tavorian and they’re known for hexes and spells,” LeAuntiez admitted. “But Azra is also a skilled healer. He has saved the lives of many among us.”
“Like I said, a fucking witch doctor.” Bron shuddered. “How Urrya can stand to be around him all the time is beyond me. Azra makes my skin crawl.”
“Only when you call him a witch doctor.”
“Very funny,” Bron grumbled.
Kyla picked up her fork and moved her food around her plate, but none of it made it to her mouth. She was dying to ask them about Erin. Bron could feel her emotions well enough to guess the cause.
Apparently, LeAuntiez could too. “Bron’s contacts in Waco are searching for Erin,” LeAuntiez told her. “There aren’t that many people still living there. It shouldn’t take long for them to find her.”
She glanced up and smiled, but her eyes were still sad.
Bron reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll find her. I promise.”
Her gaze shot to him and narrowed. “That isn’t within your control, Chancellor. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“You’re right, so I’ll promise you this. We won’t stop looking until she’s found.”
Chapter Eight
LeAuntiez slipped his hands into the holo-controls aboard his fighter and propelled the agile little ship into the twilit sky. Acceleration momentarily stole his breath and plastered him back against his seat. Once the pressure normalized, he grinned. Takeoffs always made him smile. They had since he was a child.
“Nothing matches that sensation,” Tafflo, LeAuntiez’s gunner, said from the seat directly behind him.
“Two weeks ago I would have agreed with you, but Bron and I found our mate.”
“So I heard. Congratulations, but I’m jealous as hells.”
He’d known Tafflo for nearly a century and they’d flown together almost as long. They could both fly circles around the young hotshots, and Tafflo was the best gunner in the Protectorate. LeAuntiez always tried to surround himself with the best. Still, they were both well past the time when warriors usually moved on to instructional or support roles, leaving the actual fighting to the young. The fact had never bothered LeAuntiez before. Kyla changed everything. She was his top priority now. He couldn’t protect and care for her if he was dead.
Squaring his shoulders and refocusing his mind, he gave the current situation his complete attention. Distracted warriors were dangerous not only to themselves, but to the teams surrounding them. “Red Team, check in,” he ordered, sending the thought directly to Urrya’s mind as well as speaking out loud so Urrya’s gunner could hear.
“Red in position.” Urrya responded verbally but also pinged LeAuntiez’s mind telling him the telepathic message had been received.
“Blue Team,” LeAuntiez prompted.
“Blue in position and hoping they put up a fight. It has been weeks since we engaged an enemy,” Oseth complained.
LeAuntiez chuckled. Oseth loved action, drove his podmates crazy whenever things slowed down. LeAuntiez could picture Oseth’s face. He was a Ventori/Partonese hybrid so his coloring was unusually vivid. Bright orange streaks threaded through his long dark hair, and his eyes were neon green. Both of Urrya’s podmates were hybrids, which was fitting. Urrya was also the product of two very different species. “Sorry, Blue leader. That sort of action is unlikely on this mission.”
“Maybe next time,” Oseth grumbled.
“Stop that shit or you’ll jinx us,” Urrya countered.
“You’ve been spending too much time with the chancellor’s favorite witch doctor,” Oseth said, laughter clear in his tone.
“Back on task, Brokvata,” LeAuntiez cautioned. “We’ll get a beer when this thing is over.”
“Copy that,” Urrya said.
“Understood,” said Oseth.
They arrived at the target location a short time later. The sprawling adobe hacienda was in the middle of nowhere, not unexpected for a drug dealer’s hideout. LeAuntiez knew this was Mexico, but beyond that, it was just coordinates he’d entered into navigation. He started a banked descent, circling the property. There were six perimeter guards and who knew how many inside. Camouflage shielding and noise dampeners would keep his teams hidden until LeAuntiez was ready to reveal their presence to the enemy.
As LeAuntiez circled the house, he noticed the weapons carried by the guards. They held Ventori blasters and sonic rifles. One stood near an ion cannon. Definitely not human technology. He quickly magnified the image of the closest guard and swore under his breath.
“They’re Ventori,” Oseth snapped. “Fucking traitors!”
“Looks like you get your wish, Blue leader,” LeAuntiez told him. “We need to draw out the other guards. Fire at will.”
“Copy that!”
The bloodthirsty glee in Oseth’s tone should have concerned LeAuntiez, but it didn’t. Oseth’s reaction was appropriate to the situation. LeAuntiez felt a rush of excitement too. These bastards were part of a network selling human females. And not just any human females—possible mates. He swung around and positioned the ship so Tafflo had the best angle. The gunner activated targeting and took out three of the guards in quick succession. Like LeAuntiez said, Tafflo was the best.
As LeAuntiez had hoped, a sea of armed traitors came streaming out of the hacienda. The fighters were still shielded, so the traitors were shooting blind. A hail of energy pulses showered down on the frantic traitors, neutralizing many before they got off a shot. In a matter of minutes, the hacienda was ringed with fallen guards. Zapt, if he’d been here in the first place, was still inside.
“Set down,” LeAuntiez ordered. “Urrya and Oseth, you’re with me. Gunners cover us and monitor our progress from the ships.”
&
nbsp; A chorus of acknowledgements followed.
LeAuntiez quickly landed and freed himself from his safety restraints. His pulse pounded, rushing natural stimulants through his body. His mind, however, was focused, thoughts quiet, senses alert.
“Give ‘em hells,” Tafflo muttered.
LeAuntiez nodded as he passed, then triggered the hatch near the back of the ship. He slid down the ladder, not bothering with the rungs. Urrya and Oseth waited, weapons drawn. “Zapt has always been a coward,” he told the younger males. “He’s probably huddled in a closet somewhere.”
“Hope there isn’t one of those panic rooms.” Oseth tossed his orange and black braid over his shoulder and repositioned his ion rifle. “We’ll take down half the house if we have to blast him out.”
Urrya darted to the front as they neared the main entrance. Oseth fell in behind, which annoyed LeAuntiez. Did they really think he needed protection? He’d been managing dangerous situations and neutralizing threats longer than either of them had been alive. Much longer, he thought with an inward groan. Bron had been trying to convince him to focus on training younger warriors. Maybe it was time he gave it some serious thought.
He shook away the recurring distraction and scanned their surroundings. “I don’t sense anyone in the house.”
“Neither do I,” Urrya confirmed, sounding discouraged and annoyed.
“Any chance Nunez tipped off Zapt?” Oseth asked, moving into LeAuntiez’s peripheral vision.
Urrya shook his head. “Not unless they have some sort of telepathic link. Her holding cell blocks incoming and outgoing transmissions.” He paused in the doorway, systematically clearing the room before allowing the others to enter.
They spread out and crept across the large living space, ready and watchful.
“Did either of you mention our destination to anyone?” LeAuntiez asked. His back tingled, and suddenly his wings manifested, nearly spanning the room. “Get down!” Urrya dropped without hesitation, but Oseth looked around to see what was wrong. LeAuntiez swatted him to the floor as the first bomb detonated.
Shielding the younger males with his wings, LeAuntiez braced for impact as the hacienda shook. There was a pause, but instinct and experience told him the explosions had just begun. “Out! Now!”
Apparently, Oseth had fallen awkwardly when LeAuntiez knocked him over. He limped badly. Urrya draped his podmate’s arm across his shoulders and helped/dragged him back outside.
A bullet whizzed past LeAuntiez’s head, missing his cheek by millimeters. He dropped to a crouch, his wings wrapping around him like a protective cloak. Aiming in the direction from which the projectile came, he searched visually and scanned with his mind, but there was no one. What the fuck?
He fired his blaster as he ran for the door. The next blast hit as he reached the opening and the shockwave threw him halfway across the front yard. He landed hard on his shoulder and hip, wings dissolving in a burst of colored sparks. Lights danced before his eyes, but he remained conscious. Barely.
Urrya rushed over and helped him to his feet. Then they sprinted toward the ships.
The final explosion blew the roof off the hacienda and shot flames high into the air. Debris shot out in every direction driven by the force of the bomb. For the most part the ships protected the Brokvata from the projectiles, but LeAuntiez hissed as a piece of wood sliced a groove in his upper arm.
“That was not what I meant by fighting back.” Oseth sat on the ground, apparently unable to climb aboard his ship. “Am I crazy or did your wings…warn you about the bombs?”
“His wings manifest whenever he’s in serious danger,” Urrya explained. “It’s a Celestian thing.”
“Then why didn’t—” Oseth bit off the question and looked away from his podmate.
“My Celestian powers are compromised by my Ventori blood.” Urrya spoke with sarcastic humor, but LeAuntiez saw the pain in his eyes. “Where the hells is Zapt? If he’s gone, what’s with all the guards?”
“I think I can answer that.” Tafflo came around from behind LeAuntiez’s fighter. Zapt walked in front of him, hands raised in the air. “Look who I spotted running across that field over there. He had this in his bony hand.” Tafflo tossed a small object to LeAuntiez.
LeAuntiez caught the detonator and shook his head. “Why the fuck are you still here?” He couldn’t help but ask the question. “Anyone with half a brain would have left the planet weeks ago.”
“Anyone with a spaceship would have left the planet,” Zapt replied. “Humans make horrible allies.”
Well, they make damn fine mates. And LeAuntiez couldn’t wait to return to his.
“They’re expecting Zapt on the Elizian,” LeAuntiez said to no one in particular.
“I’ll take him,” Urrya volunteered. “We all know you’ve got better things to do.”
“Good work, everyone!” he called as they started to disperse. “And I haven’t forgotten that I owe you a beer.”
Tafflo helped Urrya secure Zapt aboard Urrya’s fighter before returning to LeAuntiez.
“Oseth, can you fly?” LeAuntiez asked as he helped the injured male up off the ground.
“Once I’m aboard I’ll be fine. I just can’t climb the damn stairs.”
LeAuntiez supported and shoved Oseth into his fighter, then returned to his own ship.
“All things considered, I’d call this a win,” Tafflo concluded as they took to the sky.
LeAuntiez nodded, but a thought wouldn’t leave his mind. If his wings hadn’t warned him of the danger, Urrya, Oseth, and he would be dead.
* * *
Kyla tossed the digi-sheet aside and rubbed the back of her neck. She lounged sideways on the sofa in the house she shared with her soon-to-be mates. Bron sat at the dining room table working on correspondence. It seemed like everyone in the Protectorate needed something from him. She could almost feel the weight of his responsibilities. She wanted to help him relax and forget about the conflict for a while.
LeAuntiez had been gone forever and she was starting to worry. They were so close to happiness. She could not lose him now. She looked at Bron and tenderness squeezed her heart. She’d be devastated if she lost either of them.
“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” She tried not to sound desperate, but her emotions were escalating fast. “Mexico is not that far away.”
Bron looked up from the holographic display generated by the Ventori equivalent of a laptop computer. On their ships such devices weren’t necessary. A simple voice command triggered holo-controls to appear anywhere they were needed.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Bron stressed. “We’d sense it if anything serious was happening.”
She knew he was right. About an hour ago, they’d both felt spikes in LeAuntiez’s emotions. Bron tried to communicate with him, but LeAuntiez didn’t respond. Bron insisted that their range for specific communications was limited and she didn’t need to worry. LeAuntiez calmed a short time later and she’d sensed only hints of anticipation and boredom since.
Someone knocked on the front door twenty minutes later. “Oh, thank God,” she cried and leapt up off the sofa. She was halfway to the door before she realized LeAuntiez wouldn’t knock. Her steps slowed and her heart dropped into her stomach. Bron was right behind her when she eased the door open. She didn’t recognize the Ventori male standing on their porch, so she moved aside without blocking her view.
Their visitor had natural Ventori coloring, solid black hair and red marbling in his eyes. He appeared younger than most of the soldiers she’d seen and he was clearly unnerved by Chancellor Savator. Squaring his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back, the young soldier gazed straight ahead as he spoke. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. May I speak with Commander LeAuntiez?”
The soldier was likely one of the Brokvata, but clearly didn’t know about the current mission. They had been very hush-hush about the entire thing.
“He’s out right now,” Bron told him. “Is there something
I can do for you?”
The soldier glanced at her, then quickly averted his gaze. “I’d rather explain privately, sir. No offense to your female.”
“Bonded mates are unable to keep secrets from each other. Just spit it out.”
The soldier took a deep breath, glanced at her again then looked at Bron’s boots. “I’m on one of the teams sweeping the wasteland. We found a skimmer tonight. There was no sign of a struggle, but there was also no sign of a human female. We don’t know that the skimmer was the one used by your mate’s friend, but… It looks like the rebels might have snatched her, or…” He finally looked at Kyla, pity obvious in his gaze. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Without another word he turned around and jogged off down the sidewalk.
Grief and anger welled up inside Kyla, paralyzing her mind. She stumbled back a step, then twisted away when Bron tried to steady her. “Don’t touch me.”
Skarilian raids had taken everyone she knew, except Erin. They’d clung to each other and stubbornly determined they could survive anything as long as they remained together. “I can’t…” Her voice broke and she shook her head. “I can’t do this without her.”
Bron stood as close as she’d allow him, a helpless look on his face. “If the rebels have her we can—”
“We both know the rebels don’t have her. No one knew she was out there until the Brokvata started searching for her.” Anger cut through the overwhelming pain, focusing her mind on one simple truth. “Erin is dead, and you’re to blame.”
“Me?” Bron’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Nothing is gained by placing blame. You need to calm down.”
“Calm down? Fuck! You!” She sucked in a shuddering breath as tears streamed down her face. “If you’d released us when we told you we didn’t volunteer, Erin would still be alive.” Her voice grew higher and higher until she barely recognized the sound. “You did this! Erin is dead because of you.”
He took a step forward.
“Don’t touch me!” She ran toward the center of the room, putting the couch between them.
