by T. S. Ryder
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 weapon. 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.
"What is she going to do to him?"
Biryl knelt beside her. "The Science Board has told her to hand him over. She refuses. With her fleet and resources, it will take an army to save him."
"What is she doing to him?"
"We don't know," Trafin replied. "The only information we have is from the Bronæl broadcasts. But if I had to hazard a guess… if he's not already dead, he will be soon."
Libba whimpered.
"I know you humans are an emotional species, but for your sake and the sake of your child, you have to accept that he's gone. We've set a course for Bronæl. We are hopeful that we will be able to get you into the human sanctuary, where your right to carry his child to term will be protected."
His child. Libba pressed both of her hands to her stomach. It was soft, squishy, something she had never really liked. Now there was a child growing inside her, adding a hardness underneath her layer of extra weight. A child that the government of this planet still wanted dead, a child whose father was most likely…
"No." She pushed herself to her feet stubbornly. "I'm sure as hell not going to go run and hide and fall apart. You said that it would take an army to get him away from Nylæq. What about how you took me from Din?"
Trafin shook her head. "Our actions on the moon base can be justified, the crew will be able to escape punishment for that. But what you are suggesting will kill us all. I will not allow this ship to go on a suicide mission. Brask would not want it."
"To hell with what Brask would want. What would he do?" Libba clenched her hands. "He wouldn't leave either of you. I'm not going to just give up because some crazy bitch has him. No, I'm going after him!"
"Alone?" Trafin narrowed her eyes.
"Not alone," Biryl said. "She needs a pilot. I won't make any of the crew come with us, but if this human is stupid enough to charge into the teeth of our enemy, I'm going with her." He smiled at Libba, who smiled back gratefully. "Guess that makes me stupid, too."
"I won't stop you," Trafin sighed. "But I'm not going with you. Libba, if you have any gods, I suggest you make peace with them now."
"I'm an atheist. I believe in myself." Libba turned her back on the dragoness and followed Biryl as he led the way to the docking bay where they would find the small stealth ship.
And Brask, she thought suddenly. I believe in Brask.
***
Libba strapped the tiny holographic projector to her wrist. She and Biryl had found Nylæq's fleet days ago. She had wanted to rush in at once and find Brask, but the pilot, fortunately, was experienced in this sort
of thing and insisted on a plan. He scanned the ship, pinpointed Brask's location and figured out the best way to get him out. Since Libba was human, the infolink that Biryl would be using was too dangerous for her, so she had to use the projector as a map to make her way to where Brask was being held.
She had a weapon in her hand, and strapped to her belt was the necessary equipment to break Brask out of whatever prison Nylæq had him in.
Biryl was going to fly right into the docking bay and disembark; she would wait five minutes while he engaged with the defense forces and slip out. Hopefully, she wouldn't be noticed. Libba hardly thought it would work, but what other choice did she have but hope that Biryl knew what he was doing?
"Are you ready?" Biryl asked her.
She nodded, clutching her seat. The pilot set their course and dove.
Within seconds, they were inside Nylæq's ship. Libba kept her eyes glued on the timer as Biryl headed out. The sound of energy blasts and dragon roars started immediately. Everything inside Libba urged her to get up and leave now, but she waited, watching the timer. She refused to second-guess her decision.
Brask was coming back with her.
As soon as the five minutes were up, she dashed out of the ship. She ignored the battle, not stopping to worry if anybody had seen her. She had her mission. She raced through the halls, stunning anybody she saw. Her heart was in her throat. By the time she had made her way to Brask's cell, she was gasping and her legs felt like lead. The baby was kicking hard, making her whole stomach hurt.
Her heart nearly stopped when she dashed into the room and saw him.
Brask was on a surgical table stained with blood, smoke seeping from cuts that crisscrossed his body. He was still breathing, though. Libba forced herself to focus on that. He was breathing. He was alive.
One of his blood-red eyes cracked open in a hateful glare. When he saw it was her, though, both eyes flew open and a look of horror came over his face.
"No!"
"Shhh!" Libba rushed to him. She set the gun down and grabbed a cutting tool from her belt, focusing on the metal bands that held him bound. "I'm here to rescue you, you idiot."
"No," Brask moaned. "Get out, leave me. She'll kill you."
Libba ignored him, concentrating on her task. The device cut through the metal as if it was butter, freeing Brask in seconds. He swayed as he sat up, more smoke billowing from the cuts in his chest. Libba put a trembling hand on him.
"What did she do to you?"
"She's experimenting. She wants to see how long it takes before we stop healing." He grunted as he slid off the table, right onto the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
"Get up," Libba said, tugging his arm. "You're no quitter, Brask."
A noise behind her made Libba turn. A dragoness stood in the doorway, her eyes gleaming. Brask moaned, struggling to get to his feet. A dark liquid began to run from his wounds.
"Stay away," he mumbled.
The dragoness ignored him, her eyes on Libba. "So you are the little human who cost my son his life. And you have proven yourself incredibly stupid. I was going to let you have a quick death, but now that I see you—"
There was a roar. Libba didn't see Brask lurch to his feet, but suddenly he was on the dragoness, fists flying. She twirled away from him, actually laughing–the bitch! A small knife flashed in her hand and she tore a strip of flesh from Brask's back as he stumbled into the wall. Libba snatched up her gun, but there was no way to fire without hitting Brask. If he was stunned, there was no way she was strong enough to lug him back to the ship. She trembled, helpless.
"It looks like threatening a Justice Warrior's mate fills him with fire," Nylæq observed, slicing at Brask again. "How are you still standing? Your injuries should be killing you. I wonder if you'll live long enough to see the human die?"
He roared, pushing himself from the wall, and turned. Once again the dragoness danced just out of reach.
"How should I kill her? Should I take her apart? Should I slowly disintegrate her to her atomic base? Should I—"
Brask's fist collided with Nylæq's chest. As she backed up, gasping, his fingers wrapped around Nylæq's throat. His lips curled back. The knife sunk deep into his ribs but even as he howled he squeezed tighter, twisting his body to force the dragoness down. Libba heard screaming as the knife sunk in again and again and realized it was her. Nylæq's eyes widened. She slashed at Brask's face. Blood spurted. Brask jerked her head one way and the other.
The dragoness kicked wildly and was still.
Libba dashed forward, grabbing Brask's arms. "We have to get out of here. Brask!"
He didn't seem to hear her. He was still squeezing the dragoness' neck. Libba cupped his face with her hands, having to use some force to turn his head towards her. His wild eyes met hers.
"It's done, it's over," she said. "You have to come with me, now. We have to get back to the ship. Brask. Come with me."
His gaze slid out of focus as he nodded. Libba pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around him. She knew that she couldn't support him if he fell, but tugged him along, putting one foot in front of the other. She wasn't going to give up. She wasn't going to let him give up.
God help her, she was getting them out of this place.
Chapter Ten
His wounds had longs since scarred over, but the internal damage from Nylæq's 'experiments' was taking longer to stitch itself back together. Brask lay on a couch, a book propped in his hands, wishing that Stlozyn healed just a little faster. At least they weren't as slow at healing as humans, though. Libba had given birth two weeks previously, and even with medical attention, she was still complaining about her tender parts. A dragoness would have been sore for a day or two, but by the end of the first week would have been fully healed.
The human, sitting across the room with her feet up, glanced up at him. "You're staring at me."
"Because you're so beautiful."
Somewhere in the kitchen, they heard Biryl groaning. "Don't. I can't stomach another one of your 'cutesy' moments."
"Cutesy?"
"It's a human word meaning so sweet it makes you sick."
Brask closed his book and sat up with difficulty. His skin pulled, making him gasp, and he put a hand on his chest.
"Are you okay?" Libba asked, her eyes widening.
"I'm fine. Just healing." He groaned. "I keep hoping that I'll remember how we got off of Nylæq's ship. I don't even remember killing her."
"I know." Libba gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't remember much after that myself."
She shivered, and Brask held out his arms to her. She moved from her chair and snuggled against him. She was so soft and fit into his arms perfectly. He closed his eyes and thanked the Creator for bringing her into his life.
"That's right, you two just sit there being all cutesy while I slave over making dinner," Biryl complained from where he was. "Doesn't bother me at all."
"Nobody asked you to stick around, you know," Libba reminded him, rolling her eyes. "You're the one who decided that we couldn't do anything without you. But you know what, women take care of babies by themselves all the time on Earth. We don't need your help."
Biryl snorted. "Here I am, aiding two criminals, and what thanks do I get? None, that's what I get. How would you like it if you had to take care of two people who couldn't take care of themselves while one kept insisting that she was fine? Except, of course, when she's complaining about how much pain she's in?" He glared at the two of them, and a pained look crossed his face when one little cry started two more from the nursery. "Make that taking care of five people."
"I'll get them," Libba said, standing.
Brask leaned back into the couch again. He would volunteer to go help his mate with the triplets himself, only it wasn't a good idea to pick up and carry the infants in his state. In a few more weeks, hopefully, he would return to peak physical condition. Until then, he had to take it easy.
"I tell you, one more day o
f this and I'm out of here," Biryl muttered. "I don't see how anybody survives as a parent."
Despite Biryl's complaining, Brask knew that he would never leave them. They probably didn't need help, not anymore at least, but it was far more than just a matter of getting day-to-day tasks done. The only reason any of them were still free and not sitting in a Stlozyn prison somewhere–or worse–was because Biryl had faked their deaths.
There was no way Brask would have been pardoned for killing Nylæq, despite the circumstances. Dying was the only way they would have a chance at living. A large part of the crew that had stood with him against Din had followed them to the planet they now lived on. It wasn't the most welcoming place, but it was survivable.
But what surprised Brask was that there were still newcomers arriving. The first ones had been farmers sent by Trafin, and like Brask they wanted a place where they could freely practice religion. The next batch were low-ranking scientists who wanted the same thing.
There was a risk that if people continued to flee to the planet the Science Board would find them, but Brask couldn't turn away people who wanted the same thing from life as he did. They did need a board of government, though, and would be holding elections soon. It was almost certain that Brask would be voted in, and he was already planning what to do with the colony when that happened.
Libba returned from the nursery, wheeling a basinet that contained their three babies, who were now all crying and flailing their fists. Brask heard Biryl mutter something about needing some silence to keep his sanity. His friend slipped from the house as Libba handed one of the triplets to Brask.
Struggling to comfort the other two, Libba retook the spot beside her dragon and sighed. "This is a little exhausting. It's a good thing I'm not a quitter, otherwise I'd go running to the Science Board just to get some sleep."
Brask smiled at her, rocking his son. Three healthy dragons, a little on the small side but still tough as nails. All three of the babies were a strange pinkish color, and the littlest one had fewer scales and more hair than the other two. Brask suspected he would end up a little more human than his brothers.
