by Kali Argent
“Commander.” He bowed his head a few inches before turning his attention to Xavian and Vane. “Lieutenants.”
“Hey, kid.” Stopping beside the male, Xavian leaned sideways to bump their shoulders together, and sighed when Cato stumbled several steps to the side. The guy was smart as hell, but he couldn’t fight his way out of a wet bag. “Have you met Captain Chase?”
After another round of introductions, everyone found seats and settled in for what was sure to be a long and intensive interrogation from Commander Schiva with history lessons on Legacy Relics sprinkled throughout. Xavian had heard the stories hundreds of times, but now, if they believed what Cypher Brax had told them, it changed everything.
“Did you find any information on the Tablet of Destinies?” he asked the Chronicler.
“It’s been two hours,” Vane chastised. “Give the kid some time.”
“Actually, I did.” Placing the holopod on the shiny surface of the table in the middle of their loosely formed circle, Cato pressed the glowing button on the top of the disk. “The Tablet of Destinies is an Earth legend, or so says the information we’ve gathered.”
Light shone up from the holopod and fanned out into a large screen that flickered and rotated in midair. Xavian could easily see the commander, Vane, and Katana on the other side of the projection, but he focused on the information presented. What looked like nothing more than a large, jagged rock sat in the upper center of the projection. If he squinted a little, he could see faded markings and weathered etchings scribed across the surface.
“We have no record of where the Tablet of Destinies originated,” Cato continued. “However, findings indicate that the stone has mythological roots that date back nearly seven thousand years, to a place on Earth referred to as Mesopotamia. It is said that whoever possessed the Tablet, ruled the universe.”
It was a nice story, but it didn’t tell them anything important—like how to find it, or if it even existed at all.
“I had to dig pretty deep into the archives, but I found a fable about a terrible battle between two gods, Kingu and Marduk. There isn’t much said about what happened after the battle, only that Marduk defeated his rival and claimed possession of the Tablet.” Cato paused, and reached up to flick his fingers across the projection, flipping the screen to an image clearly depicting an Atrean with shimmering blue hair dressed in battle armor. “I cross-referenced images of the Tablet with the names, and came across this in the Atrea recordings, a warrior by the name of Marutuk.”
While not identical, the names were similar enough to capture Xavian’s interest. “Is that the Tablet on his breastplate?”
“It is.” Cato nodded as he flicked his finger in front of the projection again, this time bringing up an imagine of a Crimnian warrior, also dressed in full armor. “This is Quingu.”
“So, the Atreans and the Crimnians held a grudge match on Earth, and of course, the humans decided they were gods.”
Aeryn stiffened, turning her head to glare at Vane. “What were they supposed to think, Lieutenant? That aliens from another planet in a universe they couldn’t possibly hope to understand at the time decided to have a prize fight over a fucking rock?”
Vane’s face turned an interesting shade of red, but he flopped back against the cushions of the sofa and refrained from saying anything else damning. Normally, Xavian wouldn’t waste an opportunity to needle his friend, but the blonde beauty beside him held his full attention. Aeryn sat rigidly at the edge of her seat, her gaze fierce and defiant. She mesmerized him, made him ache for things he couldn’t articulate, but damn, he wanted her.
After pushing the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows, Aeryn fisted her hands on her thighs and continued to glare at Vane. The elitist attitude of the older races never failed to piss her off, and this time was no different. He found it ridiculous and improbable that humans would ever consider any alien race to be gods, but it hadn’t been that long ago that humans had still believed themselves alone in the universe.
According to the history lessons she’d been taught in school, contact hadn’t happened all at once, though it had been suspected that the known races had visited Earth long before humans ever knew about them. Of course, the Nekros had been the first to openly declare themselves to Earth sometime in the twenty-fourth century.
Panic had ensued.
Those who welcomed the Nekros had been labeled traitors, and sympathizers had not been tolerated.
Wars erupted. Families were torn apart. Brother turned on brother, and in the end, the once sophisticated and civilized human race had become nothing more than primal animals driven by fear.
When the smoke cleared, new boundaries had been drawn, new governments formed, and the end of that century had ushered in a new age of technological advances. Though some humans were still loathed to admit it, most of those achievements had come directly from the Nekros, and later, the Atreans.
Not until Earthlings had developed hyperdrives and began traveling the stars to remote and distant planets had they discovered the other advanced races, such as the Stravoris. Now, over half a century later, Earth had become an integral part of the cosmos.
Humans might still be considered a young race, but they’d achieved much in their short existence. Yet, Vane mocked them. Mocked her.
“Forgive him.” A big, callused hand covered her fist, and Xavian drew soothing circles over her skin with the pad of his thumb. “He has a bad habit of sticking his foot in his mouth, but he didn’t mean any disrespect.”
Vane grunted. “My mate is from Earth,” he argued, as if that excused his behavior. He stared at her for a long time, and when she refused to back down, his shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled sharply. “I apologize. It was a stupid thing to say.”
Satisfied with his apology, Aeryn relaxed her posture as well and without even thinking about it, leaned slightly to the left, resting her shoulder against Xavian’s muscled arm. “Good. Now, let’s get on with it. I have deliveries to make.”
“This is all very interesting,” Xavian added, “but I thought we were looking for the Seal of Solomon. What the hell does this rock have to do with anything?”
Deucalion had stood quietly beside the office door during the meeting, but at the mention of the Seal, his head jerked up, and his eyes narrowed. No one else in the room seemed to notice, but Aeryn wanted to hear what her friend had to say.
“Deuc, what’s up? Does that mean something to you?”
“That’s actually why I asked you to be here.” Standing, Commander Schiva motioned for the Crimnian to join them, even offering his chair to the other male. “During our meeting earlier, Cypher Brax said the Atreans fought with the Crimnians during the war against Promena, and it had been the Crimnians who had provided the stone that had helped them to win the war.”
“The Seal of Solomon.” Though he moved closer to the group, Deucalion declined to sit. “All Crimnians have heard the stories. Our princess was killed, and we—along with Atrea—turned on the Morphs in our anger and grief. It’s true that the Crimnians created the stone and bestowed it upon a fearsome watcher, Dradar Solomon.” He linked his hands together behind his back and fixed his stare at a point on the far wall. “How the Atreans came to be in possession of the relic is the subject of debate.”
Where the Nekros and Earthlings had soldiers, the Crimnians’ called their warriors watchers—the bravest and strongest who watched over the planet and protected its inhabitants. Aeryn always found the differences among the races fascinating, but not nearly as much as she did their similarities, though none of them wanted to admit just how alike they really were.
“You said you ‘created’ the stone.” The commander combed his fingers through his dark hair absently. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It was inscribed with runes and imbued with magic,” Deucalion answered simply. “It is said that Dradar Solomon used a single drop of Morphling blood to bind the race to the relic, giving him control over all of Prom
ena.”
“Cato?”
The Chronicler nodded. “I don’t recall any archives about Dradar Solomon, but I’ll look into it.”
Leaning to the side, Aeryn lowered her voice, directing her question only to Xavian. “Why is that important?”
“If we can find more information on Dradar,” Xavian answered, his tone thoughtful, “then we can hopefully find a list of his descendants. One of them will be the Legacy—the rightful owner of the relic and the only one who can truly bend it to their will.”
Aeryn had heard about the Legacy Relics, and according to Earth history, a few of their own artifacts had ended up in the compound of Pandora. Unfortunately, her understanding ended there. She could name only a few of the ancient relics, and of those, she only remembered the history of one. Really, though, everyone in the galaxies had heard the story of the sword encased in stone.
Commander Schiva cleared his throat, drawing her out of her musings. “Captain, can you tell me more about this auction?”
“Honestly, I don’t know much. There are rumors floating around a couple of the space stations, mostly among smugglers and dark-market dealers, maybe a few mercenaries.” She shrugged when Xavian arched an eyebrow at her. “I don’t deal in anything illegal, but I like to keep my ear to the ground.”
“Do you know where this auction will take place?” the commander probed.
“All I heard was that it would be on Earth during the Celebration of the Accords.”
Deep grooves marred Xavian’s brow, and he rubbed his right temple with two fingers. “That’s in two weeks, right?”
“Yeah, at the end of October.”
The Celebration of the Accords marked the anniversary of the end of the global war that had nearly destroyed the planet. It was a week-long festival held in the nine cities to survive the conflict, what humans called the Old Cities—New Orleans, Las Vegas, Chicago, Sydney, London, Buenos Aires, Tokyo, Johannesburg, and Jerusalem.
When the war ended, the remaining leaders came together to sign the accords that formed a unified government known as the United Nations of the World Republic, or as most called it, the Republic. Militaries had been disbanded, then reformed into a single, solitary unit designed to protect the planet from invasion and patrol Earth-controlled space stations. Civil matters, on the other hand, fell to the Marshals, the peacekeepers and policing body of the Republic.
“And it takes at least that long to get to Earth,” Xavian mused.
Aeryn smirked. “I can make it in nine days. Well, ten, since I’ll need to make a stop on Gamma Station.”
Xavian glared, the vein that snaked down the side of his throat pulsing with his heartbeat. “We don’t even know if this auction has anything to do with the ring or Asa Brax.”
“Which is why I need to stop on Gamma Station.” Men. Sometimes, they could be really thick.
“That’s not a bad idea,” the commander said, clearly unaware of Xavian’s darkening mood. “What else have you heard about the auction?”
“Just that it’s supposed to be some big-ticket item, one of a kind, and worth a shuttle-load of units. I can tell you it’s recent. Talks only started a few days ago.”
“I think we have to check it out,” Vane agreed.
“Agreed.” Marching to his desk, the commander pressed a shiny, silver button in the corner. “Love, go ahead and start dinner without us. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night.”
Everyone in the room groaned, even Katana, which only made Aeryn laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re all upset about the lack of food or the long meeting.”
“Both,” Xavian answered, reaching up to tap the tip of her nose with his index finger. “When’s the last time you ate, Captain?”
She couldn’t really remember. With her augmentation, she ate when she felt like it, not because of hunger since her nanocytes replicated the important vitamins and nutrients her body needed to function. Thankfully, she was saved the need to answer when a feminine voice filled the room.
“Do what you need to, Bael, but you aren’t going to starve our guests. We’ll bring food in a bit.”
A collective sigh went around the group, and Vane called out, “I love you, Mother!”
“Yes, I love you, too, dear. Now, behave yourself.”
Xavian snickered.
“That goes for you, too, Xavian Tira.”
Aeryn couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the chagrined expression on the lieutenant’s handsome face. It had been a long time since she’d had a mother to scold her, but she remembered the mixture of irritation and melancholy well. Nearly a century and half had passed since her parents’ deaths, and not a day went by where she didn’t miss them.
“You’re very lucky,” she whispered.
Taking her hand, Xavian cradled it gently between both of his own. “I know.”
“So, what about this rock?” Vane asked loudly, effectively ruining the moment. “How are we supposed to find that? And why are we even trusting that asshole’s brother?”
“He has a point.” Still holding her hand, Xavian sat up a little straighter as he addressed the commander. “Asa was supposedly against the continued enslavement of the Morphs. He said he wanted peace. What makes Cypher different than his brother?”
“For one,” a deep, rumbling voice answered from the back corner of the office, “he’s not a lying little prick with more ego than brains.”
“Such a glowing recommendation,” another male voice answered, his tone oozing sarcasm.
Surprised to see the newcomers emerging from a door behind the commander’s desk, Aeryn jumped up from the sofa, her lips stretching into a wide smile. “Torren? Cypher? What the hell are you guys doing here?”
The Morphling male smiled back at her, his teeth a brilliant white against the black of his lips. The race had a tendency to put some people off thanks to their demon-like appearance. Their black, mottled skin, glassy black eyes, and the small, red horns that grew near their hairline created an intimating appearance, but the Morphs Aeryn knew had always treated her well. Granted, because of Atrea’s imprisonment of Promena, she hadn’t met many, only the few rogues who had managed to escape the tyranny.
“I could ask you the same.” Laughing, Torren Olaris caught her when she leapt at him, lifting her off her feet and squeezing her in a tight embrace before lowering her back to the floor. “It’s been a while, Captain.”
Aeryn echoed his laugh as she turned to embrace the Atrean male next to him. “I thought you were still chasing down that Stravoris in the Volac Belt.”
Cypher had a knack for finding trouble, but also for finessing his way out of it. He’d gotten into more sticky situations than she could count, and somehow, he always came away unscathed. No easy task for a bounty hunter.
“Volac?” Cypher smirked before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “That was four months ago, Chase.”
Aeryn wanted to ask him more, but a deafening growl erupted from the other side of the room, the sound filled with threat as it reverberated off the walls. Surprised, she jerked around, searching for the source of the noise.
Following the wide, collective stares of the group, she watched with a sinking heart as Xavian stormed out of the office, slamming the door firmly behind him.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Fuck!”
Pacing the grand foyer between the two, curving staircases, Xavian fisted both hands in his hair and pulled at the locks. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, but he felt like someone had punched him in the gut, then lit him on fire. Seeing Aeryn in the arms of the Morph had nearly undone him. Never in his life had he felt so murderous, and despite Torren’s past transgressions, he actually kind of liked the guy.
Of course, Vane would never be friends with the male. Hell, he could barely tolerate being in the same room. Considering it had been Torren who had poisoned Charli, forcing Vane to carry her through the time portal to their current year on Nekron, Xavian couldn’t say he blamed him.<
br />
On the other hand, he understood Torren’s plight. Vane and Charli had been strangers at the time, a means to an end. He’d taken a contract with the Atrean’s to retrieve Charli, an Atrean princess and Legacy, in exchange for the release of his family from Promena. It didn’t make it right, a fact Torren fully admitted and had repeatedly apologized for, but if someone had taken Xavian’s child, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to get them back.
At the moment, however, he couldn’t sympathize, because every part of him wanted to drive his fist into Torren’s face. He just didn’t understand why.
That wasn’t completely true. Logically, he knew his hostile reaction had been because of the female’s obvious familiarity with the Morphling. Watching another male touch her, and seeing her smile at Torren the way she’d smiled at him, had been physically painful to witness.
Then there was Cypher Brax. While Xavian didn’t discount the fact that the male could be working with his brother and feeding them a load of bullshit, his instincts said Cypher genuinely wanted to help. The guy couldn’t choose his family, and holding Asa’s wrongdoings against him wasn’t fair.
Remembering the way he’d kissed Aeryn’s cheek, Xavian didn’t rightly give a damn about being fair.
Footsteps approached, but Xavian didn’t pause in his pacing or look up until a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
“Fine.”
Vane chuckled. “Yeah, you look fine.”
“Is this how it feels?” Xavian blurted. “When I hug Charli? Does it feel like someone ripped out your insides?”
“At first,” his friend admitted. “Now, it’s more instinct that anything. I know she loves me, just like I know you think of her as family.”
Finally looking up to meet Vane’s gaze, Xavian hated himself in that moment. “I’m sorry, brother.” It was inadequate, insufficient, but he didn’t know what else to say. “I didn’t know.”
