by K Webster
Because we’re running out of time.
He knows this.
I know this.
We all know this.
Geostorm or not, we have to ready this weapon. The Kevins will soon be here and we can’t afford not to be ready.
“Hold it steady,” I bark out over the comms.
Breccan and Jareth both grunt as they tighten the harnesses, keeping the thermablaster still.
“We have trouble,” Sayer warns. “There. In front of that mountain.”
I can’t see because of the rain, but I see the red blips on his scapescanner. Galen grumbles as he flips the safety of his zonnoblaster.
“Armworms?” Breccan asks.
“Sabrevipes,” Galen retorts, stalking forward, his zonnoblaster pointed toward the pack. “Could really use Draven about now.”
Jareth taunts Galen a bit, but I ignore their arguing as I fiddle with my machine. Once I’m certain it’s ready, I dial up the radialnob. Its loud clicking can be heard in between the cracking of magnastrikes. Once its wound tight, ready to absorb thermal energy from the sun beyond the dark red clouds, I aim the weapon past Galen toward the sabrevipe pack.
“Three, two, one—”
My words are cut off by a loud magnastrike that assaults the earth nearby. A buzzing can be felt as it ripples magnetic energy through every particle in the near vicinity. The lights that were coming from the facility blink out and the thermablaster makes a hissing sound.
This has to work.
The thermablaster hums louder and louder as blue crackles of electricity come from the charged air, seemingly linking itself to the thermablaster. The zuta-metal glows bright blue.
“Don’t let go of the straps,” I warn Breccan and Jareth just as I step away.
KA-BOOM!
We’re all thrown back, landing hard on the earth. I’m dazed from the impact. My ears are ringing from the blast.
“Is everyone okay?” Breccan barks out.
I climb to my feet and skim my gaze over the other morts who are also standing back up. Sayer has his scapescanner pointed toward the pack of sabrevipes.
“Did we get them?” Jareth asks.
Sayer nods. “Yeah. The mountain too.”
Breccan rushes over to Sayer and inspects the device. “The mountain? Where is it?”
Sayer laughs. “Ask Oz.”
“If my calculations are correct, the power absorbed from the therma—” I start, but Jareth cuts me off, slapping my shoulder.
“You obliterated the entire rekking mountain! It worked, Oz! It rekking worked! We’ll blow those Kevins right out of the sky!”
“Now isn’t the time for celebration,” Breccan grinds out. “This geostorm is out of control. We need to drag the thermablaster back inside where it’s safe. Let’s go.”
Fighting against the wind, we take turns helping to drag the thermablaster back to the facility. When we reach the door and Sayer punches in the code, nothing happens.
“We’ve lost power,” Sayer states.
“How do we get back in?” Galen grunts. “Knock and wait until someone rekking answers?”
“We’ll have to go in through the cave entrance,” Breccan grumbles. “Be watchful for armworms. They like to hide in there during geostorms.”
It’s dreadful hauling the thermablaster up the side of the mountain to the cave entrance, and it takes rekking forever, but we manage. Once inside, and no longer assaulted by the elements, we wind our way through the tunnels following Breccan’s lead. We don’t encounter any armworms, which is good because we’re all spent of our energy. No one can be bothered to carry on conversation. Just morts grunting and complaining under their breath.
We descend deep into the mountain, traveling through a series of doors that aren’t computerized, our handlanterns lighting the way. When we reach the one that leads into one of the unused levels of the facility, we’re forced to use a zonnoblaster to blow off the lock.
“Get ahead of us and seal off this area. We’ll decontaminate and then go up,” Breccan tells Sayer and Galen. “We’ll stay back and secure the weapon and repair the door.”
It takes far too long because we must be thorough in our efforts to keep the facility free of contagions, but eventually we’ve essentially created a makeshift Decontamination Bay. Sayer pulls out some canisters of spray and begins the rigorous process of cleansing us one by one. We take several readings of the R-levels and when we’re satisfied we’re clear, we leave the weapon and enter the facility through another door.
“What is this place?” I ask, looking around the unfamiliar room, my handlantern light bouncing off the objects. Supplies line the shelves, all neatly contained in bins. If I wasn’t so eager to get back to Quinn, I’d dig around to see what sort of items I could find.
“Reserves,” Breccan states. “For emergencies.”
“That time we almost starved wasn’t an emergency?” Galen demands, picking up a huge glass jar of something long and green in a murky liquid.
“We managed,” Breccan bites back. “We always manage. These supplies are for when we can’t manage.”
I’m curious about this hidden supply. Galen, however, is losing his cool by the second, digging around in bins and beginning to rage.
“We could have used these seedlings!” he roars, tossing a handful of packets at Breccan. “You let us scrape when we could have had all this.”
“Enough,” Breccan snipes. “I wouldn’t have let anyone starve, but if you had known all this was here, you might have consumed it. We needed the reserves in the event the beasts stopped roaming or plants stopped growing. I won’t answer to any more accusations, Galen. Remember your place.”
Galen storms off.
“Any more questions?” Breccan asks, eyeing the rest of us.
“I think the females would like to visit the reserves room,” I tell him. “Perhaps they might need something for the mortlings.”
Breccan frowns. “Aria will rekking kill me.”
At this, Jareth snorts. “Our fearless commander is shaking in his boots because his mate might get angry for him keeping the best secret ever?”
“Be nice,” Sayer says, nudging Jareth. “If Grace discovered we were hiding all this from her, how do you think she’d react?”
Jareth’s grin is wicked. “She’d yell and throw things until we subdued her by both of us stuffing her with our cocks.”
A laugh bubbles out of me as Breccan groans.
“No one wants to hear about this,” Breccan says, shaking his head.
“I’m curious,” I blurt out. “Maybe you can write about these dynamics. For Quinn’s library.”
Sayer scrubs his palm over his face. “Grace will really throttle us if we write about that aspect of our mating in a book for all to read.”
“It’d be for the greater good of mortkind,” I argue, knowing Quinn would love this for her library.
“If Breccan tells Aria about this place and he lives to tell the tale, then perhaps we’ll consider it,” Sayer says, giving us the brush-off. “Now let’s get out of here and see if we can restore power.”
I’m exhausted by the time we make our way inside the familiar parts of the facility. Galen is nowhere to be found, most likely brooding someplace. Excited chatter fills the darkened building. Handlanterns light up the Medical Bay. We head that way to see what the commotion is about.
Before we reach the door, a dark shadow fills the space, sub-bones popping loudly.
“Is everyone okay?” Breccan asks, ignoring Draven’s threatening stance.
Draven seems to relax, realizing it’s just us. “Aside from being in the dark, everyone is well.” His teeth flash white and menacing in the shadows. “Molly gave birth.”
It’s then I notice the bundle in his arms. We all eagerly crowd around him to see the mortling. With a massive hand, he tugs away the blanket, revealing his little one to us.
“Why does it have two nogs?” Jareth asks.
Draven gru
nts. “There’s two mortlings there. She had two.”
“Two?” Breccan asks, astonished. “How? A mutation?”
“I don’t rekking know,” Draven growls. “All I know is they’re mine. Stop gawking or I’ll rip your eyeballs out to feed them to my young.”
“Draven!” Molly calls out. “Slow your ride, cowboy. They’re not villains, they’re your friends. I won’t have you teaching the twins cannibalism before they’ve even formed fangs.”
“But cannibalism is okay once the fangs have come in?” Quinn chimes in from beside her. “Interesting.”
Molly laughs. “I’ve had enough comments from the peanut gallery. Take a break, Quinn, sugar. You certainly earned it and quite frankly I’m tapped out on your odd sense of humor.”
Quinn makes her way over to the doorway where Draven is still blocking it. He steps aside and dips down so Quinn can peek at the mortlings.
“Which one is Quinlan again?” she asks, grinning.
“The female,” Draven grunts. “The male is called—”
“Nope,” Molly barks out. “Don’t say it.”
“Vendar,” Draven whispers. “A variation of my name. He is at least three times bigger than his womb mate.”
“Ew, don’t say it like that,” Molly groans. “Just call them twins. Or siblings. Not, er, mate anything. Not cool, Draven.”
“Vendar is her protector,” he explains to us. “And as he grows, he will protect his mother too in the event I am unable to.”
“His name isn’t Vendar,” Molly says. “I like the name Thomas after my pops.”
“What’s a Thomas?” I ask. “A good version of a Kevin?”
“He is not any version of a Kevin,” Draven snarls, “which is why he is Vendar.”
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, are we really going to get divorced over the naming of our son?” Molly grumbles. “Vendar sounds like something out of Star Wars!”
“Quinn told me Star Wars was a vintage story of hero aliens in space,” Draven grumbles back.
“Vendar sounds like Vader!”
“Would you prefer it if we call him Vader?”
“Listen, cupcake,” Molly says in exasperation. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because you’re really starting to chap my hide.”
“Wait? Draven…cute?” Jareth cocks his nog to the side. “Are we talking about the same Draven?”
Draven’s sub-bones start popping again.
“On that note,” I say with a chuckle as I grab Quinn’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
It’s a dark walk back to my rooms, but once I get Quinn inside and manhandle the door shut, I pounce on her. The handlantern falls from my grip and rolls across the floor. I don’t need light to strip her down. Besides, the magnastrikes light up the room every few minutes, giving me just enough light to see what I need to see.
Once we’re naked, I run my palms down my mate’s rump and lift her up. Her fingers cling to my hair as I slide her down over my cock. We both groan at the sensation. Then, I pin her to the wall, driving hard into her, needing to fill her to the brim with my seed.
“You’re frantic,” Quinn observes, her voice breathless. “Talk to me, Oz.”
I capture her lips with mine, swiping my tongue across hers and devouring her moans. She kisses me eagerly in return. My flesh slaps against hers as I thrust closer and closer to oblivion. When I get close, I break from our kiss to smile against her lips.
“We did it,” I tell her. “We made a weapon and it’s going to protect us. We have a future, Quinn.”
I grip her rump hard enough my claws puncture her flesh. The scent of her sweet, metallic blood permeates the air, making my cock twitch with the need to release. She digs her heels into my rump, grinding against me, making sure all the good spots are rubbed in just the right way. The moment she throws her head back, crying out as her orgasm seizes her, I nip at her throat, drawing blood there too. My seed spills deep inside her, claiming her as mine.
I’ll never get tired of this feeling.
“You did this, Oz. You. My determined hero.”
As her body relaxes, I pull her to me, keeping her safe from harm. Gently, I carry her over to the bed and lay her down. Once she’s clean, I curl up around her, angling her body so she can watch the geostorm outside.
“Whisper,” I murmur against the shell of her ear. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re mine.”
Her feeling begins to return and she greedily pulls me to her. I mount her again, but this time, I gently make love to her.
Over and over and over.
Because, now, it feels like we have all the time in the world.
It’s a feeling I could really, really get used to.
13
Quinn
Six Solars Left
Jareth and Oz got the power back on earlier this morning and the mood in the facility is jubilant, to say the least. We have a chance at survival now because of Oz and the others. The Earth II Army is still coming, still dangerous and more powerful than we could ever imagine, but we’re fighters and we’re going to make it. And I’ll have my hero by my side.
Oz turns into me and wraps an arm around my waist. Even in sleep he needs me close. I’ve never had anyone who needed me before. I have to say I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it. “Breccan wants us in the Command Center at first light for an update with the prison.”
“Have they developed coffee here yet? Because if we’re going to be waking up this early, I’m going to need to be heavily caffeinated.”
“Not that I know of, but I’m sure we can find an equivalent.”
I soften against him. “I was only joking. We have other more important concerns right now.”
He presses his growing erection against my stomach. “We certainly do.”
Groaning, I let him rub against me for a long moment. “Oz, we can’t. You just said we have a meeting with Breccan soon. And if you get started, then I’ll get started and I won’t want to stop.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
It didn’t sound like a problem to me, either.
We were late to the meeting.
“Now that we’re all here,” Breccan begins with a pointed look in our direction, “Sayer will open a line with the prison.”
“Already done,” Sayer says and spins in his chair to nuzzle Grace, who is by his side. Jareth is behind them with their baby, a little quirk to his lips telling me he’s enjoying watching them.
A screen on the control panel changes from static to show a view similar to ours: a room full of beings—both mort and human—in a room of computers and electronics.
“I hear we’ve got a Kevin-Killer,” Hadrian says. I know he’s not Breccan’s direct relative, but they have the same mannerisms, and if I weren’t wearing my new glasses and could clearly see him, I could swear he even sounds somewhat like Breccan. “Good work, Oz.”
Oz merely smiles and buries his face in my neck. I hope they can’t see the blood filling my cheeks through the screen. Wrapping my arms protectively around Oz, I can barely contain my pride. His hard work was going to save all these people I’d come to care about.
“You’re right, we do,” Breccan says and claps a hand on Oz’s shoulder. “Thanks to this crazy mortarekker. We’ll be prepared for whatever the Kevins bring with them.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Hadrian’s mate, Lyric, says.
Breccan inclines his head, his expression growing serious. “We have but a few solars until the Kevins attack and I want our people together, come what may. We can prepare to accept everyone at the facility.” I note that Aria reaches out to take Breccan’s hand as he talks.
Hadrian and Lyric share a look. “We’ll put it to the people here. Once Avrell finishes designing a cure for The Rades, we’ll make arrangements for travel.”
Breccan nods. As though reading his mind, Aria says, “And how is Avrell doing on the cure?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” comes a biting female
voice. A woman with dark wavy hair and light gray eyes comes into view. Her hair is up in a messy bun and those eyes are flashing with temper that I can feel across the screen. “He’s testing out every eventuality, taking his time coming up with the perfect chemical ratios, and holding court over us lowly peasants.”
“Now isn’t the time, Zoe,” Lyric says. I get the feeling Zoe gets told that a lot. I can’t tell for sure because the resolution on the screen isn’t great, but I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes.
“Unless I’m mistaken, now is precisely the time. We have days, days, until Earth II unleashes a particular brand of hell like we’ve never seen, and your precious doctor is taking his sweet time perfecting the cure.”
A new voice interrupts off-screen. “If by taking his sweet time you mean I’m trying to save your life and the lives of everyone you care about, then yes, I’m absolutely taking my time. Better to do that than lose people I could have saved.”
“There will be no one left to save if everyone is dead,” Zoe retorts.
“Enough,” Hadrian interjects. “The both of you will do your jobs without the fighting or we’ll leave you here to fend off the Kevins together.”
Breccan looks at Hadrian with pride, like he’s looking at a son who has just grown into a man. “Hadrian is right. We don’t have time for fighting amongst ourselves. We must remain strong to fight against the Kevins. Avrell, can you accomplish this task? I have faith in you, but I must ask.”
“We can and we will,” Avrell says with a pointed look at Zoe, who avoids his gaze.
Hmm, well, there’s definitely something going on there.
Their conversation devolves into details about Avrell’s protocols for treating The Rades. Much as I want to listen and note down the information, I’m distracted when Oz begins to tug at my arm. “What?” I ask, somewhat impatiently. Legolas twitters in indignation.
“Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”
“But don’t we have to be here for the rest of the briefing?” I whisper back.
