by T. S. Ryder
"Unlikely," Biryl snorted. "You're not going anywhere without me."
"Can't you just explain what really happened?" Libba grabbed Brask's arm. "It's not fair!"
Brask embraced her. "I know. But until I am assured of a public trial, I can't risk returning. I certainly can't risk taking you there. Your pregnancy will be terminated…" An awful thought hit him and he swallowed hard. "Unless you want to be free of me. If you want to go directly to the planet and not be in the crosshairs—"
"Like hell I'm leaving you," she muttered, burying her face into his shoulder. "Libba Ross doesn't quit. I'm not letting anything happen to you or this baby. Got it? You can't get rid of me that easily."
Brask was filled with overwhelming gratitude. Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his mouth to hers. She responded eagerly, passionately, tangling her fingers in his hair and her tongue with his.
Neither of them noticed when Biryl slipped out of the room, giving them their privacy.
Chapter Seven
Libba fought down waves of nausea, nibbling at a root of some sort that Brask assured her would help with the morning sickness. It had gone away for a little while, only to return full force once she was in her final trimester. She was bigger than she had expected, but there wasn't the proper medical equipment on board to check how her pregnancy was progressing.
Just one more thing to worry about.
She sat on her bed, head against the wall as she watched the latest news broadcasts from Bronæl. The image of a large dragoness was on nearly every broadcast frequency now. It was Nylæq, Din's mother, the reason he had been able to get away with breaking so many laws. She was apparently a former member of the Science Board and still held a lot of sway in the goings-in on Bronæl. And she was frustrated that, after five months, they still hadn't been able to catch Brask.
"My son's death is a shocking display of traitorous intent from Justice Warrior Brask," she said, looking directly into the camera.
Libba had seen this particular clip often enough that she could almost quote it.
"I invoke my right as a mother whose son was slain to place my own bounty on Brask's head," Nylæq continued. "Grants for a year of research and a new research vessel to every person who helps bring him in. In the meantime, I cannot rest while that traitor is free, and I will search for him myself. The dragon must be brought to justice."
"Off," Libba ordered, and the broadcast blinked out. She bit off a larger part of the root, hoping to quell the queasiness that still churned her stomach as the baby kicked her in the ribs.
If he hadn't rescued me from Din, he wouldn't be in this position. He wouldn't be an outlaw, watching all his dreams go up in smoke.
Her nausea got worse with the thought, and Libba closed her eyes, fighting against it. So what if she was pregnant, she wasn't going to turn into a puke machine. She'd give herself a couple of minutes to feel better, and then she was going to go and find Brask and find out what they were doing now. Last time she had asked, they were headed for an uninhabited planet that could still sustain life to restock their water stores.
Getting out of this stupid ship and being able to breathe some fresh air would probably help her feel a little better. Living in space was difficult, but given the alternative… Well, space was the better choice.
The door opened and Libba sat up straighter, swallowing her mouthful of root, as Brask came in. He was wearing the same pants and shirt that he had donned after leaving the moon base. His shoulders were slumped, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Though he tried to hide it, she knew that he was worried about Nylæq coming after him.
When he laid down on the bed beside her, Libba could feel that his skin was cooler than normal. And no wonder. He was stressed and tired. They only had half a dozen crew members with them, and a ship this size needed twice that many to run smoothly.
At least he had been sleeping with her whenever he had an off shift. It felt better to have him with her.
"How close are we to the planet?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as even and no-nonsense as possible.
"We'll get there tomorrow." He gave her a small smile as he put a hand on her swollen belly. "How are you feeling?"
The nausea was fading, so Libba shrugged. "Pretty good right now."
"Good." His hand rested on her thigh. "I'd like to take off your clothes and expend some energy I don't have, and I'd hate to do that while you were feeling sick."
It must have been pregnancy hormones because that sounded so good that Libba was hardly able to stop herself from ripping off her pants just at his words. But she knew how much Brask enjoyed the sensation of undressing her himself.
"Are you sure you feel up to it?" she asked, worried that he was exhausting himself.
"I need you right now," he whispered. "I might be tired, but being inside you will help me feel better."
He kissed the top of her belly, making Libba sigh. She combed her fingers through his hair, enjoying the connection she felt with him. If they had met on Earth at a club, she'd have brought him home the moment she saw him and begged him to marry her the first time they had sex. Even in this situation, she had a hard time stopping herself from blurting out that she loved him every time he entered her.
She let her thoughts drift away, arching her spine towards him as Brask's mouth moved up, kissing first one clothed breast than the other. They had gotten much more sensitive over the past few weeks. Her dragon tugged her pants down to her knees, cupping her with a hand as he searched for his target with one strong finger. Libba moaned.
"I've reached out to a Human Rights organization," he said, not easing his ministrations. Libba could hardly pay attention to what he was saying.
"Human Rights… Why?"
"To protect you and the child from the Science Board's decision to end your pregnancy."
Libba's eyes opened again. She pushed Brask's head from her breasts, her brow furrowed. "Are you going to send me away?"
"If I have to for your protection—"
She yanked away from him. "Like hell! I'm not leaving you. Never, not for anything."
Brask held up his hands. "Libba—"
"Do you hear me? I'm not leaving. You're the one who took me away from Din, you're the one who got me pregnant, it's your responsibility to keep me close by. This baby will be born in two months, and it isn't growing up without its father, and I am sure as hell not giving you up. I don't freaking care about Nylæq or the freaking Science Board. You're not going anywhere, and neither am I. Understood?"
Her dragon shook his head, but an admiring smile crossed his face. Her hands clenched and she glared at him, daring him to try to change her mind. Brask held his arms out to her.
"Come here, Libba. I'm not leaving you. I'm never leaving you."
What the hell? Why was there a lump in her throat? Her eyes filled with tears as she returned to her dragon's arms. She clutched him, kissing him fiercely. She wasn't going to let him go. Not now, not ever. She didn't care what happened to her. Whatever happened, it was going to be her and her dragon facing all of it.
Brask brushed his lips against her cheekbone and focused on her neck. "Now," he said, undoing the fastenings on her clothing, "about taking off all your clothes…"
Libba moaned, clutching him tighter.
Chapter Eight
Brask wrinkled his nose as he breathed in the swampy scent of the planet they had landed on. It was bad enough to leave an unpleasant taste in the back of his throat. No wonder Libba had turned green and run back onto the ship as soon as she had stepped out into this environment. At seven months pregnant, her morning sickness had returned and lasted all day long. He wished he could have chosen a more pleasant planet for her.
Still, this planet would allow them to restock the supplies they had gotten low on, and that was what mattered. While the crew gathered water and refilled the oxygen tanks, he was doing a little hunting. The hydroponics bay gave them fresh vegetables, but beasts of their nature required lot
s of protein. That was especially true for a Justice Warrior, and they currently had no access to the supplements that the scientists had created that would allow the crew to forgo eating the flesh of other creatures.
The dragon held his weapon up and at the ready as he moved through the thick trees. A twig snapped behind him. Brask froze, scanning the dense forest. All was silent and he crouched, inhaling deeply. The smell of Stlozyn curled into his nose. But it was not a member of his crew–they would have notified him if they were hunting as well.
Dread seized him, making his fires flare. Brask held his breath to keep the smoke in and slowly reached for his comm unit.
The sound of a blaster rang through the air. He rolled instinctively. The blast hit the place where his feet had been moments before. Brask fired his own weapon in the direction the attack had come from. There was a muffled curse, then half a dozen Stlozyn emerged from the bushes, all firing at him. Brask fired back before taking refuge behind a tree.
They were bounty hunters, the lowest scum in existence.
He bit back a curse as he flipped his weapon to kill and sent a few more blasts towards the hunters. He slapped on his comm.
"Justice Warrior Brask," Trafin answered.
"I'm under attack," he shouted at her.
A tree nearby was hit; it splintered, flaming shards flying every which way. Brask threw himself to the forest floor to avoid the shrapnel. They had a cannon, a weapon specifically designed to take down a person in their beast's form.
His fires burned low as he realized that there was no way out of this. Not for him. There were too many of them, and by the time his crew arrived, it would be too late. And if they left the ship unguarded… Nylæq could very well have put a separate bounty on Libba. After he was caught, would the hunters go after his precious human?
No way in hell.
Brask almost smiled–Libba was rubbing off on him. He fired a few more volleys at his enemies, dodging from tree to tree. He could hear Trafin shouting through the comm, ordering backup to his location.
"Negative," he barked at her. "Get out of here."
There was a moment of silence.
"That is an order," he continued. "Have everybody return to the ship and leave the planet."
"But—"
"Do as I say, dammit!" He fired twice more over his shoulder as he ran, seeking open space. They might have a cannon, but Creator help him, he would still be able to cause some serious damage before they took him down if he was able to take his beast's form. "Get Libba out of here. Do it!"
He slapped off the comm unit so Trafin couldn't argue with him. The bounty hunters were calling to each other, coordinating their attack. Brask sloshed through a swamp, a growl rising up his throat.
"Give it up," he heard someone shout behind him. "We don't need you alive! Haven't you heard your warrant was upgraded to dead or alive now?"
Finally, he reached an open space. He leaped into it, already shifting to his beast's form. There was a rumble in the air and he saw a streak of red in the sky. The ship was leaving. Trafin had followed his orders. His wings sprouted from his back and he threw back his head, roaring through sharpening teeth…
Something hit him hard in the back. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
***
When Brask woke, he instinctively lay still, listening, trying to assess his situation without giving his return to consciousness away. From the sounds around him, the slight vibrations, he guessed he was on a ship. Not his ship, though. If he had been recused by his crew, they would have put him in the medical bay with sounds of chirping birds and running water to soothe him upon waking.
Something tight bit into his ankles and wrists. Restraints? He risked cracking an eye open. The room he was in was stark white. He lay on an operating table, bound to it not only by his limbs but also by bands around his shoulders and waist. They were not government issue. His fires smoldered as he realized what that meant.
A door slid open, and he knew there was no point in pretending to be asleep. He wasn't going anywhere. A dragoness stepped into his view. She was orange-scaled with contrasting black hair, making her one of the most beautiful dragonesses on Bronæl.
Nylæq.
"I'm glad to see you awake, Justice Warrior," she said, with a pleasant smile. "I feared that those inept bounty hunters might have permanently damaged you. One would think that they would realize I wouldn’t pay them anything if you were dead. But then, I suppose when you haven't a brain, thinking is hard to do."
Brask stared coldly at her. She would get to the point soon enough.
"I see you're not in the mood for jokes. That's a pity." Nylæq's smile faded. "I want you to know that I really did consider doing this to your human female instead of you. I thought it would be far more painful to make you watch. But the poor thing hardly knows what she's getting into, and it just wouldn't be fair to make her pay for what you did. You, however… I have tried for many years to make you see reason. And yet you still killed my son. For that, you must suffer."
A growl rose up Brask's throat. "Don't you come near my human. I didn't kill your son, it—"
"You are the reason he's dead. As for your human…" Nylæq smirked as he growled again. "Look at that display of emotion. This is why you were never a scientist, you know. What choice but Justice Keeping did you have with your emotional heart?"
"I have never found dishonor in my service," Brask replied. "But you? Your son was a coward. A blasphemer, a sadist. And you shielded him from justice. You mock my emotions? What logic dictates that you give so much to a dragon who never stopped being a self-indulgent child? You know as well as I that Din should have been stripped of position and power years ago. Your emotion is what allowed him to continue in his crimes."
The dragoness's red eyes glittered. Libba had once told him that the red eyes of Stlozyn frightened her. She had such strange colored eyes, cool gray, so unlike the warm tones he was used to. But even with her cool color, there was far more warmth in them than in Nylæq's gaze. Smoke curled from her nose. Clearly, she wasn't as in charge of her emotions as she liked to think. That made her even more dangerous
"It's true," she said slowly. "My son… he was a coward. A blasphemer. A sadist, as you say. When he was a young child he would capture small creatures to dissect while they still lived. He'd laugh at their pitiful cries."
"You knew what he was even then?" Brask couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What sort of person would allow such a dragon to pursue science? "His crimes are yours as well, then."
"Perhaps." Nylæq moved closer. "But he was my son and I loved him. And you took him from me."
"I did what I had to."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose you did. But that doesn't mean I won't punish you for your actions."
Brask's fires went cold as she picked up a scalpel. She ran it down his chest, not hard enough the break the skin, but just so he could feel its sharpness. Was she going to take him apart like her son used to take apart small creatures?
"I'll leave you to imagine your fate," she said, setting the scalpel down again. "But rest assured, whatever happens now, your human will die a peaceful death, and your child will be raised in luxury and comfort. It's poetic justice, is it not? You killed my child, and so I will replace him with yours."
Brask lunged against his restraints. "No!"
Nylæq only laughed.
Chapter Nine
"Don't you freaking tell me to be calm!" Libba screamed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her face bright red from anger and screaming.
The two Stlozyn that had come to tell her that Brask had been captured were staring at her as if she was possessed–truthfully, Libba felt like she might be. Desperation clawed at her throat, erupting in foul language that even she didn't normally use. Her hair was teased to its ends, sticking up at all angles. Her stomach churned and sloshed, just waiting for the moment she allowed herself to settle for just a second to spew its contents like a projectile w
eapon. Her baby seemed to be doing summersaults, kicking her ribs, pelvis, and spine all at the same time.
Brask had been taken by bounty hunters. The thought had her eyes rolling and an inhuman screech coming from her throat. Trafin and Biryl were looking more and more alarmed as the minutes passed with her pacing from one end of the room to the other.
Finally, her stomach won the war against her, and she raced for the bathroom. It seemed like all of her wild emotion went with the vomit, because by the time she had rinsed out her mouth and returned to face Brask's friends, she no longer felt like she wanted to claw them apart. She was drained, empty, like she didn't have the strength to feel anything.
Biryl stepped forward, his expression cautious. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. This is how I deal with trauma, okay? I freak out, then I can deal with it." Libba pressed her hands to her face. It felt overly warm. "What is going to happen to Brask? Do you guys have like planet prisons? Or do you just kill off your criminals?"
"Brask's actions have a basis in emotion," Biryl said. "Defying the orders of the Science Board to be with his mate, to protect his child, it would have cost him his position but nothing more."
The bubbling of acid started in her stomach again. "Would have? But since they're convinced he killed Din—"
"There is no use in supposing what the Justice Board will do with him if he can't convince them what really happened," Trafin interrupted. "We already know that he was not taken back to Bronæl. And I doubt he will be."
The bounty hunters had turned Brask over to Nylæq, then. Libba dashed for the toilet again. There was nothing left to expel, but her body heaved painfully for several minutes before it accepted that. She knelt on the cool tiles, wishing that she could turn into a dragon–dragoness–and go after Nylæq. It was crazy. She hadn't even known Brask for a year. Only seven months. And yet trying to think of her life without him left her feeling empty and cold inside.
