by Reagan Woods
“Neither am I.” Zocan’s warm hand fumbled across the expanse of bed between them to grasp hers. “Please don’t think that we want you dead, Nora. I know I haven’t been welcoming, but I have lost many friends recently. I don’t want to make new friends only to lose them, too.”
Nora figured that was the closest thing to an apology the cold-hearted Zocan was capable of issuing. “I want to make this thing, this partnership, if you will, work,” she told him, squeezing his hand back. After all, she was in it now. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. Let’s just try to make things work.”
Zocan pulled in an audible breath and withdrew his hand. “They will have more questions,” he warned. “I have some myself, I was content to wait until we were well away from Coniru before asking them.”
Nora scrubbed her hands over her face. “Might as well get it over with,” she told him stoically.
“Why did you pass up the chance to…negotiate Vrenti into seeing you back to Yur – er – um – Earth?” The way he pronounced Earth was endearingly precise – and incredibly awkward.
She snorted. “Why did I pass up the chance to get hunted down by the CORANOS Warriors again, you mean?”
The door to the cabin slid open with a quiet puff of air. Lyon stood at the entrance his short, spiky hair haloed in the rectangle of light spilling across the darkened floor and onto the bed. “You’re awake. I thought you’d be in the land of dreams by now.” He stepped quietly into the room.
The door closed silently behind him and a dim glow up lit the walls outlining the furniture and bodies in the spacious room but keeping details and features softly blurred. Nora supposed it was some sort of night light that came on automatically.
“Nora was just sharing her reasoning for remaining with us rather than strong-arming Vrenti into returning her to Earth,” Zocan informed Lyon’s shadowy outline.
Lyon bent and removed his boots, setting them against the wall before proceeding further into the room. He dropped onto the foot of the large bed and spun to face Nora. It was beyond weird to be lounging about with two well-built, gorgeous alien men while they shuttled through space. “Er – who’s piloting this thing?” She asked nervously.
“The Tetraglide is equipped with autopilot. Right now, Z’cari is at the helm. Rest easy, he is an excellent pilot,” Lyon stated matter-of-factly. “I’m very interested in hearing your answer to Zocan’s question.”
Chapter 30
Zocan watched Nora squirm as Lyon joined them on the expansive sleep surface. To her credit, she didn’t avoid expounding on her earlier answer. “Wanting to go home, back to Earth I mean, was a knee-jerk reaction,” she spread her small hands in front of her, gesticulating as she spoke. “I wouldn’t be any safer there than I have been out here. My family is dead, my people have been enslaved by the CGA, and I was kidnapped by one of the slavers and forced onto a ship,” she explained in a rush. “For all I know, going back will get me killed because General Darvan’s – er – Warriors will want to know where Jorkan went and where his ship is now.”
“Who is Jorkan and why would his whereabouts or those of his ship get you killed?” Lyon asked, head tilted to the side thoughtfully.
Zocan actively wished for brighter lighting so he could better see the expressions on Nora’s face. He wanted to measure her sincerity. He didn’t need more light to see the tension beneath his mate’s relaxed pose. Z’cari and/or Natar must have repeated their concerns to Lyon because for once he wasn’t insisting Zocan let up on the female. Interesting.
“Jorkan is a Doranos,” Nora said with a shudder, pulling the coverlet higher over her body as though it could somehow protect her from the absent male. “He’s a nasty, mean alien with a sadistic streak a mile wide.” Her volume rose until she nearly drowned the translation out. She paused, breathing heavily for a few seconds. “I’m not telling it right. I’m sorry. I just…need a minute.” Zocan wanted to comfort her and tell her that everything was alright, that she didn’t have to talk about it, but they needed answers, needed to know who they were travelling with.
After a moment, she continued, her tone carefully controlled, “Jorkan is - was - one of General Darvan’s top aides. I’m not sure what happened – or how it all went down – but one night I went to sleep in my bunk in the slave camp on Earth. I woke up in a secret room on The Victory, the CGA mothership.” Her hands went to her face and she shuddered. “There was another woman, an Earther, and he tried to take her, too. I helped her thwart him, but I couldn’t escape. He forced me onto his shuttle and spent the next weeks alternately beating me and attempting to sexually assault me.” Her words were clipped and monotone.
When she looked up, Zocan caught the wet sparkle of a tear trail on her cheeks. His heart rolled in his chest. Her story wasn’t surprising or unusual in the scheme of things. Females were either revered or victimized in his experience. That didn’t stop the remorse, the futile regret he felt that she’d had to endure such treatment.
Perhaps it was good the light was so low. These hurtful tragedies were easier to confess in the unjudging darkness. Though he’d gathered some of her backstory from eaves dropping on her conversations with Natar, there was more that needed to come out.
Nora had glossed over exactly how she came to be in the priests’ ship and that had Z’cari and Natar espousing conspiracy theories. If he inadvertently put his people at risk by having her along, there would be no one to blame but himself. He couldn’t reveal the position of the Lyaran colony – or the little-known fact that there was a Lyaran colony – without being entirely sure of her. She could sell the location to their enemies and his people would be in greater danger than they already were.
No, just because he wanted to believe in the good intentions, the honest actions she’d shown him, didn’t mean he could be lax in his duty to his people. So, as distasteful as it was to poke at her wounds, he steeled himself against the regret and pressed on.
“How did you escape him?” He prodded.
“I paid attention to the things he did when he maneuvered his ship, the way he used the controls – they were a lot simpler than the ones we’ve used. Maybe because his ship was so much smaller? Or because of the reconditioning?” She mused with a shrug. “I guess that doesn’t matter. Anyway, we were stuck together for weeks in this itty bitty shuttle and he talked and bragged - about how clever he was, about how he’d deceived General Darvan into thinking they were allies - between his attempts to-to-to rape me.” Her voice cracked, but she kept talking, heedless of the tears that glistened wetly as they flowed over the curve of her cheek. “He wanted me to verbally agree to his manhandling. When I didn’t, he would fly off the handle and beat me.” She hiccoughed and the sounds of her wet sniffs filled the air. “I don’t think he was all that stable. Anyway, the last time…I was unconscious for a long time. We must have arrived at his destination although I don’t remember docking. I’m guessing he got tired of waiting for me to wake up and just left me on his ship. So, I took it.”
After what he’d seen of Nora’s ability to pilot, Zocan wasn’t convinced. Plus, smaller shuttles like the one she described weren’t capable of spending weeks in deep space. “You took -,” he began only to be interrupted by the ship’s paging system.
“There’s a ship following us,” came Natar’s worried voice. “They’re closing the distance rapidly.”
“Lights on,” Zocan commanded, rolling to his side and reaching for the boots he’d left beside the sleep surface.
Lyon was already on his feet and pulling his boots on. He offered Zocan a quick salute before dashing out the door.
Once his own boots were on, Zocan turned back to Nora. She was crawling toward the edge of the sleep surface, her face pinched with worry.
“Stay here,” he barked. “This cabin probably has an auto harness that will come out in the event we have to take evasive maneuvers. If it doesn’t, shut yourself in the sonishower. It will fill with impact gel. The gel has liquid oxygen in
it so you will be able to breathe.”
Dark eyes wide, she listened to the translator and nodded. The floor beneath his feet began to shake indicating Lyon had the weapons charging and engines revving simultaneously. Nora was about to experience her first fire fight. If Z’cari and Natar were correct, she might even be the reason they’d been successfully tracked. They needed to scan the ship for stray signals or homing beacons, to dive deeper into the electrical signals they might be emitting, but addressing the possible threat superseded that.
Zocan cursed under his breath as he jogged to the flight deck. He hoped Natar was wrong.
Chapter 31
Lyon had taken control of the situation by the time Zocan joined him, Z’cari and Natar on the bridge. His complete focus was finding out more about the ship pursuing them.
The monitors were unable to produce a visual. Their scanners had alerted Z’cari and Natar to a rapidly approaching magnetic field – indicative of a ship – coming from Coniru. However, since detection, the advance had slowed, leaving the unknown ship tantalizingly out of reach. That made it difficult to confirm or disprove hostile intent.
“Z’cari, keep a watch on their speed,” he commanded quietly. “And try to get a read on their weapons situation. Natar, be prepared to fire on my command.”
He looked up quickly as Zocan took up position at the remaining station and brought up the channel monitor. If their pursuers made any attempt to communicate, Zocan would deal with them. Natar, Z’cari and Zocan had weapons to control. For himself, Lyon had taken over piloting duties. They were all adept pilots, but Lyon knew he was the best in combat.
Avoiding or fighting off whatever came their way had to be his priority. Still, he glanced quickly at Zocan. “Nora?”
“Secured in the cabin,” Zocan answered tersely.
“I can’t believe this is a coincidence,” Natar muttered darkly, his fingers busily swiping through his weapons screens. “How else would anyone track us? She must be a spy, someone -. ”
“Enough,” Z’cari cut him off. “We can’t know that for sure. It could be Vrenti sold us out. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with here. That ship might simply be on the same course we are.”
“They’re flying our exact heading and there is nothing else out here,” Natar scoffed. “That can’t be coincidence.”
“They’re speeding up,” Z’cari warned, his scarred face twisting as he scanned the scrolling information on the screen before him. “They should be within visual range momentarily.”
“That means they’ll be within striking distance,” Zocan said, contemplatively. “What’s the rating on these cereshields?” He asked Z’cari. “Should we divert more energy to supplement them?”
“If you do that, we’ll be forced to slow down,” Lyon reminded them. He wasn’t above a preemptive strike, but he preferred to let the enemy prove his aggression before wasting valuable time and energy in a fight. “Let’s trust the cereshields until we have to boost them.” Heading into a potential battle with unfamiliar equipment was daunting, yet he didn’t doubt their ability to come out on top. It was bad luck that they hadn’t had more of a head-start. If they’d managed a few navigational switch backs, they would have been much harder to track.
“They’re just coming into visual range,” Natar reported tensely.
Z’cari grunted and the ship’s emergency response system began harnessing them to their stools. “They’ve opened fire.”
“Brace yourselves,” Lyon advised calmly. With the flick of a switch, the manual flight controls rose out of the console and he rolled them starboard and dove out of the path of the initial foray. “Zocan, anything?”
“Nothing on the coms,” Zocan answered, toggling his weapons controls to the forefront of his station in preparation to return fire.
Lyon smoothly pulled the Tetraglide into an arcing climb until he heard confirmation from Z’cari, “We have a visual. It’s a… Dromnough?”
“She’s working with Hash-Han?” Natar’s normally modulated tone jumped an octave.
“Focus!” Lyon snapped. The VENTIX Emperor’s War Lords, the Novink from the planet Opu, almost exclusively flew Dromnoughs. The scythe-winged spacecraft were packed with weapons and extremely maneuverable; however, they were two-seaters with notoriously short range. “There must be a warship nearby.”
“Fuck me,” Natar groused, hands busy on his weapons. “There could be hundreds of them.”
“We could hail them, see what they want,” Z’cari suggested. “It might buy us some time.”
“What they want is what Hash-Han has always wanted,” Natar snapped, “To kill us, to wipe out our kind as surely as he wiped out our planet.”
“They’ve fired a barrage and they’re matching our counter-measure pattern,” Zocan reported, interrupting the tense exchange.
“Be ready to fire but be sure of the shot,” Lyon advised them, pulling out of the climb and zig-zagging through the fiery red darts of laser fire that suddenly filled the view screens. The Dromnough spun away, attempting to evade targeting, but Lyon, familiar with Novink tactics, anticipated the maneuver and mirrored it.
Zocan took point on the laser cannons and calmly fired in a randomized pattern as Lyon darted sideways and flew beneath the tricky Novink pilot. The Dromnough absorbed a direct hit as their last-ditch salvo clipped the Tetraglide’s starboard wing.
A metallic groan rose into a high-pitched whine as Lyon fought to bring the bucking, shuddering ship under control. The shot threw off their trajectory, sending them into a spin on the Z axis. Wrestling with the yoke, Lyon steered into the spin before thrusting the ship into reverse and regaining control of their momentum.
“Shields?” He snapped, taking them in a wide arc beneath the enemy ship so their sensors could gather information regarding the enemy’s status. It was risky diving in so close, but something wasn’t right. The Dromnough wasn’t cutting or evading.
“Holding steady,” Z’cari reported calmly. “I’m still only seeing one of the bastards. Zocan?” He called for confirmation.
“They’re badly damaged. Five of our shots landed,” Zocan replied. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“They aren’t running,” Natar spoke up. “That is…unusual. Perhaps they cannot?”
The Dromnough should have been limping away from the battle, but it continued, ponderously now, along some unknown course. Typical Novink behavior was to fall back and let one of their innumerable brethren replace them in the fire fight. In many instances, they took heavy casualties, relying more on sheer brute force, on their superior numbers, than finesse or skill.
“Destroy them now,” Natar advised coldly. “Before reinforcements arrive.”
Z’cari grunted his agreement. Lyon looked to Zocan. His mouth set, he nodded assent.
“Pulling around to the Dromnaugh’s port side now,” he announced, doing so. He was wary of a trap, but the other pilot made no move. Given the adroit way he’d handled the ship until the last volley, Lyon had to assume the ship was compromised to the point of disabled.
The movement put Natar’s cannons closest to the enemy ship. He fired three barrages, face grim. The Dromnaugh began to waver, its compact body showing signs of implosion.
“Let’s get out of here,” Zocan said quietly.
Lyon had already locked in the new course. “As you say.”
Chapter 32
Nora came awake at the sound of the cabin door opening. Her mind groggy, it took a moment to register that she lay face up across the bed in the cabin of the Tetraglide.
“Wha-?” She tried to sit up only to be slapped down onto the thick mattress by the harness across her body. “Ugh,” she grunted, ruefully rubbing a hand over her sore chest as Zocan came to stand over her. The vomit-inducing flips and turns came rushing back. This time, she pushed up gingerly to inspect the latch on the flexible metal bands that pinned her in place.
“You must first disengage the safety harness before you attempt to
move about the cabin,” he advised, his expression bland.
She’d come to know him well enough to realize his carefully worded observation was the equivalent of dust-dry mockery on Earth.
“Mierda,” she cursed, trying to reclaim some form of dignity even as she struggled with the stubborn latch.
She gave up as he brushed her hands aside and clicked the harness open.
“Thank you,” she slapped her palm into his proffered hand and let him haul her to her feet. Rolling her stiff shoulders, she asked, “How long was I out?”
“A few hours,” he answered succinctly. “It was to be expected.”
She frowned. “It was?”
Ignoring her question, his yellow eyes roved over her face and body in that familiarly critical way he had. She bristled beneath his scrutiny and scuffed her feet uncertainly. On one hand, Zocan had the unfortunate ability to set her teeth on edge. Sometimes, though, he was tolerable almost to the point of likeable.
“Here, turn around.” He didn’t wait for her to comply, instead he set his hands on her shoulders and nudged until she stood with her back to him.
That bossiness was not one of his more likable traits, she decided, sighing at his arrogant command. Moments later, she forgot all about his too-assertive behavior as he slid warm, sure-fingered hands over her scalp and down her neck. “You’ve got several knots here. We shall get a healing wand from supply and run it over your neck and shoulders.”
The easing of her tight muscles made her aware of the ache that had been brewing behind her eyes. “Ugh. I hope the healing wand can help with this headache, too.”
“Everyone’s first space battle is taxing,” he reassured sounding almost kindly as he moved to usher her through the door. “Once you realize the harness will do its job, you will stop bracing for impact and let the safety system absorb outside forces.”
“I don’t know about that,” she argued, feeling defensive as she trotted to keep up with his longer strides. She’d handled the loco rollercoaster from hell to the best of her ability and, damnit all, she deserved a little credit. “I was whipped around at crazy speeds. I’m lucky I didn’t break my damned neck.”
