by Alison Aimes
With a scream, she raised her ax and sliced through the hanging silken threads twinkling above.
Instantly, the lights flared, the cave glowing blood red. Her beautiful stars turning deadly as acidic secretions meant to protect the glowworm larvae poured from the hacked threads.
Right onto the advancing beast.
With a pained screech, it stopped in its tracks, threw back its head, and roared. The agonized bleat slamming through her as the bitter scent of burning flesh stung her nostrils.
It was working.
Raising her ax, she hacked again. And again. Her biceps shaking with the force of her swings. A part of her soul shriveling at the destruction of her beautiful stars.
But survival was paramount.
Hadn’t that been what Valdus had been saying all along?
The creature roared again. Skittered back. Tumbled off the rocky piling and crashed toward the ground.
An errant droplet hit her leg. Then her arm. She muffled a scream. Kept hacking. Pain was something she’d learned to endure long ago.
“Enough.” Her ex-captor’s voice snapped her from her trance. “Let me finish this.”
Her eyes blinked wide, her stare dropping to the scene below, her arms lowering to her sides.
With the drops no longer falling, Valdus leapt to where the downed creature struggled to rise and struck fast, his ax sinking into the underbelly.
It let out an agonizing bleat and sank to its knees, its insides spilling onto the ground. Her ex-captive’s arm reappeared, his ax slick with crimson blood.
Arm shaking, the ax she’d been struggling to hold slipped from her grasp, clattering down the side of the rock. It landed an arm’s length from its owner, the sharp edge imbedding itself in the stone.
Their gazes locked.
Her breath strangled in her throat. Respect. Admiration. Pride. There was no missing what was in his stare.
Pleasure surged. Before him, no one had ever looked at her like that for something she’d done.
It was more satisfying than she’d ever dared hope.
He sheathed his ax.
Opened his arms wide.
A moment’s hesitation. Then, she leapt.
The scent of ash and musk and him filling her lungs as the hard heat of his skin sizzled against hers everywhere they made contact. He drew her tighter against him.
“You did it.” Head buried in her hair, he held her to him as he carried her around the rock and away from the horrific scene.
She didn’t look back.
The creatures were dead.
But they were alive.
That was all that mattered.
They emerged into the narrow corridor.
Only to slip once more into another side cave. One with more twinkling stars that glittered as if everything was still alright in the world.
Her back landed against the wall in the next instant, his big hands closing round her forearms and hauling her up so that only her tiptoes grazed the ground.
“You did it,” he repeated.
“We did it,” she amended. “We make a good team.”
“What you did was incredible—and clever.” His words were a low growl, his nose sliding along her cheek to bury itself in her hair as he breathed deep. “I had no clue the star plants could do that. Even after two years down here, I’ve never seen them do that before.”
“They’re not plants. They’re insect larvae. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen as the species I’d studied was from New Earth.”
Was she talking too much? Probably. Pride? Nerves? Likely a jumble of both.
“You weren’t sure?” He reared back, enough for her to see his scowl had returned.
She knew that look. “Don’t.” She didn’t want to argue now. “I knew enough. Especially that sometimes fragile, beautiful things can be dangerous, too.”
His gaze darkened, shadowed by a flare of emotion she couldn’t quite read. “I’m learning that lesson well, believe me.”
Without further thought, guided only by need, she reared up onto her tiptoes.
Her lips reached toward his just as he slammed his mouth over hers.
Together.
Equal in their claim. Equal in their raw need.
31
Oh, sweet Janus, let this work.
Ava wasn’t much for prayer—it hadn’t done her any good all those hellish years with Hollisworth—but she was praying now.
After she and Valdus had taken down the sabanthers, and celebrated privately, they gathered up the ore and returned to the men. Her extraordinary lover dragging the sled and the thick, smelly hide of one of the animals behind him—along with a story that had left the others speechless. There’d been surprise and shouts and a fair bit of teasing—and she wished like heck she was still in the western portion of the maze now, basking in the glow of Valdus’s praise and his men’s approval.
Instead of here, in what passed for the team’s sleeping quarters, about to put all her serum claims to the test.
“Where do you want it?” Unwrapping the tattered cloth used to protect his hands from the worst of the heat, red-haired Darvish held out his precious bundle toward her.
The tangy scent of burnt metal wafted up towards her.
He’d gone to the closest incinerator and melted down the ore to a malleable liquid, just as instructed.
This was it. This was real.
She swallowed hard, her gaze locked on the liquid.
“Ava?”
She shook her head at the sound of Valdus’s voice. Got in the game. “Put it down there.” She gestured toward one of the flatter rocks. “I’ll need more containers to do the mixing.”
She didn’t have measuring cups or temperature gauges to calibrate the serum as precisely as she’d like, but she’d work with what she had. Eyeball and estimate. There was no other choice.
“I can get you whatever you need.” The overeager offer came from Barrett, a teammate she hadn’t met before the return to quarters. Partly because he hadn’t been among the search party sent to the transport hold to “greet” new arrivals and partly because he didn’t leave quarters unless made to do so by the summoning.
“Thank you.” She forced a smile. “I would love some help.” She swallowed down the impulse to tell Barrett he should rest, instead.
She knew how frustrating it was to be pushed to the side and assumed to be incapable—and though the reasons were different for this young man than they’d been for her—she recognized in his gaze the same deep-seated determination to remain in the fight until the very end.
Even if he was dying.
The red bands that circled his chest and arms and that had turned the whites of his eyes crimson, clear signs of the final stages of the red dust contagion.
“Great. I’ll just make sure this stays upright.” But, in his enthusiasm, Barrett accidentally knocked the container holding the ore.
“Careful with that,” grouched Ryker, “Valdus will have a meltdown if we have to take the Slayer back to sabather territory.”
Slayer.
After the sabanther incident, the men had started calling her by that nickname. When Valdus had asked her if he should shut it down, she’d told him it was better than breeder—or captive. But, truth be told, she kind of loved it.
“Why don’t you go get the next batch?” Darvish shot Ryker a killing look, moving closer to Barrett. “This stuff is hot as hell and our containers aren’t exactly heatproof.”
“Whine. Whine. Whine. Don’t you have something better to do that moon over some poor man who—”
“Shut it, Ryker.” Darvish’s cheeks had gone as red as his hair, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Enough, both of you.” Expression stern, Valdus grabbed a water skin from the line and passed it to her before taking one for himself. She was grateful. It gave her something to do while she tried to will away the shaking in her hands.
It was different now that Valdus had tol
d her more about these men. Easier to see past her fears. To discern in the raised red scars snaking across Ryker’s chest the still-raw wounds beneath that had never healed from the violent loss of his wife and unborn child. Or see in Darvish the heartbreak and agony of watching Barrett, the man he so clearly loved, wasting away before his eyes.
In each and every one of Valdus’s men, she saw their pain and their yearnings. She saw the fragility and vulnerabilities that made them human.
And she understood all over again why Valdus wanted so badly to see them to safety and give them something other than dust and heat and more pain.
She only prayed she could deliver that to them all.
“Who has the star plant?” Returning the empty water skin to Valdus, she squared her shoulders and decided the time for praying was past.
“Here.” Valdus was by her side in an instant, his hand full of the limp, drooping plant someone had cut from one of the caves’ ceilings. It looked dead, but she knew better. Recently cut and still alive, it was the key to making her plan work.
She’d almost had a heart attack when it dawned on her she wouldn’t be able to use the standard electrical stimulus used in the lab to amplify the melted ore. She could only excuse the intensity of her situation for the idiotic brain lapse.
But, after a slight panic, she’d gotten creative. Thanks to the incident with the sabanthers it hadn’t taken long to come up with a new plan.
Valdus’s star plants had an electromagnetic pulse—it’s what gave them their beautiful glow. Now it would be put to use to generate the chemical reaction needed to make the serum effective.
Wrapping her hands in more tattered cloth, she took the plant from him and crumbled a handful into the container with the silver ore, ignoring the sting where the cloth failed to protect her.
It was worth it.
“Is it supposed to do that?” Ryker eyed the sparking mixture with narrowed eyes.
“Yes.” She added some more. Wishing she could be more precise. Hoping she wasn’t adding too much. Ignoring the way her fingers shook from excitement and nerves.
“Are you okay?” Valdus’s gaze honed in on the pads of her fingers, which were turning redder by the heartbeat.
“I’m fine.” Wiping the residue on her uniform, she sucked down a deep breath. “Time to add more silver ore. You might want to take a step back.”
To a man, they all took a wide leap back.
Except for Valdus.
He remained by her side, a furnace of heat and power. Unfaltering. “How risky is it?”
“Everything’s a risk.”
He settled a hand on her arm. Not rough, but firm. “How risky?”
“It will be fine.” Seizing the container with the silver ore, she counted the plunk of five drops in time with her heart.
Would have been so nice to have a dropper. Or a pipette. There’d been many in the shuttle’s lab, but they’d likely all been destroyed in the crash and subsequent explosion.
Plus, even the surface was a long way off from here.
There was a hiss of steam. The stench of rotten eggs.
Just as she’d hoped.
She added another drop.
“Just needs a few more moments to settle.” Hand outstretched, she gestured toward Bain. “We’ll need those teeth soon.”
“Almost ready.” Bain was still hunched over his work area, muttering and cursing to himself while banging away with his tools.
She was beyond grateful.
Since they had no shot dispensers, they were going to have to inject the serum into their glands with something else. Bain had come up with the clever idea of using the needlelike teeth of the sabanthers, hollowing out both ends, and tying one end with a skin that could be filled with the liquid and pushed through the needle into the skin.
Again, it wasn’t perfect. Or even close to perfect.
But it was the best shot they had.
“Do you think it will work?” Barrett’s drawn face was bright with hope.
“Yes.” There was no other answer to give this man.
If they could make it to the surface soon, there was still a chance he might be able to survive.
She added another three drops of the silver ore to the mix. “At this high heat, the electrons inside the ore will become highly unstable. When powered by an electrical pulse, they will”—should—“produce the vaccine we need to neutralize the tracker.”
“Amazing.” He leaned against Darvish.
She stirred, using the thin metal rod Bain had made for her, doing her best to approximate the rhythm and force of the computerized mixers used in the labs.
Around them, the other men spoke in hushed tones, the growing excitement palpable.
She waited for Ryker to speak. For someone to cast doubt. Fan suspicion.
It never came.
She cleared her throat. “It’s almost ready.”
Valdus reached for it.
“Wait.” She stayed him with another light touch.
Her cheeks heated. What in Jupiter was wrong with her? She couldn’t seem to stop touching him.
She dropped her hand to her side. “Leave it a little longer. It’s a bit too unstable to be jostled.”
Valdus retracted his hand. “Maybe you should step away then?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” As always, his protectiveness touched her, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not now.
The serum she was making wouldn’t be enough to take out the heat technology in her system—that would require a more potent version of the same strain—but if this version was successful at neutralizing the cruder mining tracker, it would definitely serve as a guidepost for her own more volatile immunizer.
And, in the meantime, it would protect them all from Hollisworth’s drones.
“Here.” Bain appeared on her left side, a slew of his makeshift shot dispensers in his hand. “These are ready when you are.” He offered up a wide smile.
Acceptance. Being part of a team. It was so much better than she’d ever imagined.
“Thank you.” Please, please, let this work. She caught herself stirring too vigorously and forced herself to slow down. Now that these men—and one in particular—were looking at her with such pride, she was more certain than ever that she would do whatever she must to keep it.
“It’s almost cooled enough that we can pour it into the shot dispenser.” She ignored the tremor in her voice. Told herself it was just excitement. “But it will still be a while before I can inject it into my vein.” Her gaze slid past Barrett so he didn’t think she was referring only to him. “Not point in standing around. We can let you know when it’s ready.”
No one moved.
“You’ll be injecting yourself?” Ryker’s snort echoed through the room. “I doubt that.”
“Excuse me?” She stood taller, aware of a new tension in the room.
Especially in the man standing at her side.
She cast a glance in Valdus’s direction. He didn’t look happy.
Goose bumps prickled across her skin.
“What happens if it doesn’t work?” This time it was Griffin who spoke.
She’d been over the alternate outcomes so many times in her head, they came by rote. “If the vaccine, and the electrical pulse in particular, is too strong it will knock out the heart and kill the subject. Or, if the vaccine is not strong enough and only destabilizes the tracker, it may trigger the fail-safe and initiate self-detonation. There is also the possibility of sore throat, fever, fuzzy tongue, personality change, stroke, seizure. All vaccines and medicines have potential side effects, that’s just how they work.”
Valdus stiffened beside her.
“Interesting.” Ryker’s stare darted from her to his Commander. “So, you’re equally fine with a sore throat as death?”
Heat prickled across her neck. She definitely wasn’t in the mood for his twisted humor.
Nor did she see the point in fixating on the worst-case scenari
os. If they read anything about any of the medicines around now, they’d know most had horrific side effects that never came to be.
Though, granted, few were concocted in such primitive conditions with so much up in the air.
“Yes, there’s a chance of death,” she conceded, “but there’s also a good chance of success. One I feel is definitely worth the risk.”
Silence blanketed the room again, all eyes shifting to Valdus.
She bristled. This was her serum. Her formula.
It could work. She was sure of it. And she wanted them—she wanted him—to be sure of it and her, too.
Barrett signaled Valdus. “Sir? A word if I could.”
“Why not say what you want here and now?” The hair at the back of her neck prickled. She didn’t like this at all.
Especially when Valdus spoke, his voice heavy with resignation. As if he knew what was coming. “What’s up, soldier?”
The young man’s gaze flickered to her and then Darvish, his body suddenly still.
“It should be me.”
“No.” She wasn’t sure who spoke aloud, her or big red-haired man, but the protest shook the room.
Barrett ignored them, his gaze focused on his commander. “I’m halfway to death already. I should be the one to take the risk and try out your woman’s mixture.”
“No!” Darvish clamped his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
Barrett shrugged off the hold. Kept his focus on Valdus. “If it works, I’ll finally be able to give back after all you and the others have done for me.” He sucked down a deep breath. “If it doesn’t…at least I’ll go out fighting. Like I was meant to do. Not wasting away. Not being carried around like some pathetic child. Let me do this, Commander.”
“Darvish, Barrett,” Valdus was as calm as ever. “Let’s take this outside. We—”
“No.” Darvish’s roar shook the room. “there’s nothing to discuss.”
Barrett bristled. “This isn’t your fight. I’m a grown man. I make my own choices. I don’t need your permission.”
The big man flinched as if hit. “No,” he said at last, “you don’t need my permission. But I thought you’d at least consider that you have my heart and…and when yours dies, mine will, too.”
