The Determined Hero (The Lost Planet Series Book 7)

by K Webster

  “They’ve covered the most important things. Besides, we have nothing to worry about now, my Whisper. We’re going to be just fine.”

  How can I worry when I have him next to me?

  The sound of the morts and their mates fades as he pulls me down a corridor, then a few flights of stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He lifts a device that looks like what I would imagine a device would be if an old-fashioned lantern and a flashlight mated and had a baby. Light spills around us and he gestures ahead. “The Reserves. Breccan showed us this place he’d been keeping a secret after our test run of the thermablaster. He has all sorts of neat things down here and I want to see what he’s been keeping from us.”

  Lured by the prospect of a marauding mission like a pirate of old, I stay close behind him. Legolas leaps from my shoulder and lands nimbly on the cavernous wall. From there he scurries ahead happily chittering. “What sorts of neat things?”

  “I didn’t get to see much, but Galen found a rekk ton of seedlings in one of the bins. I don’t think he’ll forgive Breccan for that any time soon. We almost starved after The Rades killed most of our people and Galen nearly broke down not being able to provide more for us when we needed him most. Maybe I owe the mortarekker an apology. He knows as well as I do how much pressure that can be.”

  “Seedlings?” I muse, wondering what varieties there could be. Were there any plants still useable from the old Earth? Things that may be similar to what it had been like before it had been destroyed by radiation?

  “It should be just up here,” Oz says, pushing through a final door.

  The room is illuminated by a single line of bulbs, most of which have blown. Shelves stacked with bins to the ceiling line the walls, neatly labeled and organized into different groups. Near me, I see labels like: medications, cleansers, utensils, tools, organization, miscellaneous, and toiletries. While I move closer to the shelf, Oz opens another on the far side of the room.

  Inside a new box, I find items that are alarmingly similar to items I’d find on Earth II. They include cotton balls and swabs, paracord or something identical, what I think is candle wax, some sort of tape and cable ties, and sewing materials. In another, I find water purification tablets, hand cleanser, a bleach substitute, garbage bags, and a smaller plastic type of storage bag.

  Realization dawns.

  These rekkers were doomsday preppers!

  I close the containers and cross the room to where Oz is sorting through another bin. He’s sitting cross-legged on the ground and I join him, happily pulling out another bin and eagerly opening and delving into its contents. Legolas skitters around the room, using the bins and shelves as his own personal playground.

  Inside the bin, I find a gold mine. A gasp of pleasure escapes my lips as I pull out thick volumes with foreign text on the covers. I don’t think it’s an alien language. Maybe it’s something from before. There were hundreds of languages on Earth before the radiation wiped out their speakers. I can’t wait to take these back to the library and analyze them with Uvie.

  I crack open their stiff spines and run my fingers over the unfamiliar words. The people who had saved them must have recognized their significance. There’s no other reason why they would have held onto them for so long. I shed a tear for the long-lost bookworm and give them a mental thanks.

  Oz stiffens next to me and I hear the bones in his back pop like Draven’s do when he’s upset. Setting the books back in the bin, I scoot closer to Oz. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He holds up a piece of paper to me in answer, and I take it. At closer inspection, I find it’s not a piece of paper, but a picture. A picture of a mort. I didn’t even know they had pictures. Oz pulls out an entire stack of them. If he weren’t already white, I imagine the blood would have drained from his face. Stunned, he flips through them.

  “Are those your family?” I ask tentatively.

  “So—” His voice cracks. “Some of them. I didn’t even know we had any pictures,” he says hoarsely. “Sayer didn’t program Uvie until after most of our numbers were gone, so she wouldn’t have a record of them.” He growls. “I’m going to kill Breccan for keeping this from us. We could have used the hope seeing these would bring.”

  “Maybe he thought they would do more harm than good. If you didn’t know things would get better for sure, maybe the pictures would have filled you with despair instead.”

  That seems to speak to him because he falls into a contemplative silence as he studies each and every picture. I leave him to his thoughts, but keep a hand on his thigh as I rifle through the bins full to the brim of books. In addition to the books in other languages, there are many in mine. From fiction to manuals to histories. They will make fantastic additions to our library.

  “We should leave these here,” he decides after a long while. “Until after the battle with the Kevins. They’re deep enough underground that they won’t be damaged.”

  “You’re right. Even if they manage to damage the facility, we should play it safe. Perhaps it would be smart to bring other important things down here to the caves as well, just in case.”

  “I’ll speak to Breccan,” Oz says, standing. “There are many important things we should keep in these caves.”

  I don’t like the look in his eye, but I don’t comment. Oz has been through enough for one day. He places the photos back in the bin with quiet reverence and clicks his tongue to summon Legolas, who jumps and lands on his shoulder.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” I say and squeeze his hand.

  “I won’t ever keep anything from you, Whisper. It’s you and me in this until our happy ending.”

  14

  Ozias

  One Solar Left

  “I can’t eat that.” Quinn’s nose crinkles up in a cute way. “It’s…”

  All cuteness fades as she turns a shade of pale green. Frantic at her sudden change, I toss the savory hunk of sabrevipe from a recent hunt onto the table and guide her out of our room.

  “Are you ill, my mate?”

  She trembles in my arms. “I haven’t felt well the last couple of days.”

  “We’ll go see Calix,” I state as I walk her to the Medical Bay.

  “He’s busy checking on all the babies, I’m sure,” she says with a tired sigh. “I’ll be fine. Just don’t force me to eat…that.” She gags and Legolas chitters from her shoulder.

  See, the thing is, Quinn loves sabrevipe.

  Well, she did until I just tried to feed her some.

  “If you’re ill, we need to get you well. Do you think any of the medications you found in the Reserves will help you?”

  She shakes her head. “As long as I don’t think about food, I’m okay.”

  My mate must eat, so that’s going to be a problem.

  Overcome with urgency, I rush her into the Medical Bay. Luckily, Calix is there with Emery and Hophalix. Quinn’s green face lights up when she sees their mortling.

  “What is wrong?” Calix demands, abandoning his family to rush over to us.

  “Just feeling barfy, is all,” Quinn murmurs. “No big deal.”

  Calix frowns as he gestures for the table. “Lie down.”

  She shakily sits down and then stretches out. I come to stand beside her, taking her hand in mine. It’s cold and damp. Panic seizes me, making it hard to breathe.

  “Is it The Rades?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “What do you think?”

  Quinn’s brows furrow. “I thought The Rades was contained to the prison.”

  “I do not think it is The Rades. I am going to check something first.” Calix hands her a pink tablet that she places on her tongue. “That will boost her electrolytes. She will start to feel marginally better.” Then, to her, he says, “I am going to use the wegloscan. Can you lift your shirt?”

  She nods, drawing the material up, revealing her pale skin. I have the urge to cover her nakedness with my palm, but that won’t help her in this moment. She needs medical attent
ion and I won’t stand in her way of getting it.

  “It is probably too early to tell, but I will feel better at least ruling it out,” Calix says, his brows furrowed in concentration. He waves the wegloscan over her stomach, watching the lights as they turn green. “Ahhhh.”

  “That sounded like a good ‘ahhh,’” Quinn squeaks out. “Is it good?”

  Calix smiles as Emery, who approaches, peeks at the results of the wegloscan.

  “You love that greasy mort?” Emery asks Quinn, gesturing at me.

  Quinn nods, flashing me a beautiful smile. “I do.”

  “I love you too,” I tell her.

  “Good, then you’ll really love the baby on the way,” Emery says, resting her head on Calix’s shoulder.

  He grins at us. “Congratulations are in order.”

  It takes a moment for Quinn and me to process their words.

  “Baby?” Quinn gasps as I choke out, “We’re having a mortling?”

  “From the data Avrell has collected from the humans, it’s unusual for them to detect pregnancy so early. Something about our sperm progresses the gestation cycle considerably.”

  “Like puppies,” Emery chimes in. “Least that’s what Molly always says.”

  “What are puppies?” I ask, confused. “Is it a disease?”

  Quinn giggles. “Puppies are adorable little pets. Like Legolas, but pudgy and furry.”

  “Hmph,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around what puppies are.

  Hophalix starts squawking, clearly hungry, and Emery excuses herself. Calix administers a few other tests while Quinn and I grin at each other, holding hands.

  A mortling.

  We’re having a mortling.

  Whenever the Kevins show up, we’ll blow them out of the sky and keep our home safe for our future family. Pride surges through me.

  I won’t let one single Kevin threaten my happily ever after.

  They may be the villains of our story, but I’m one determined hero. I’ll fight with my bare hands, ripping the nogs off every last one of them, if it means coming back to my mate and our mortling.

  “I’m going to give you as many mortlings as you want,” I tell Quinn.

  “What if I want fifty?” she challenges, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Then fifty you shall have.”

  Calix snorts. “We do not have the resources for fifty additional mortlings. Please refrain from overpopulating the facility.”

  I think about the Reserves and what sort of future that holds for us.

  “This is our story,” I tell him with a cocky grin. “We decide how it goes.”

  I stay glued to Sayer’s side as we watch the blip of the Mayvina as it nears the facility. Almost here. It’s surreal. Soon, we’ll be rejoined by our family plus a whole horde of humans.

  Hadrian. Theron. Avrell.

  I miss my brothers.

  I am especially thrilled for Avrell to return. Calix is more than capable, but I want the most experienced doctor to care for my Quinn as she grows with our mortling in her stomach. He’ll be able to safely deliver our mortling. I’m already bursting with questions to ask him.

  Everyone is flitting about as we prepare for the arrival of the rest of our faction. Molly has her hands tied with her two mortlings, but she’s great at barking out orders to Draven, who carries them out explicitly. The old Navigation Bay that was turned into the human sector has been readied with more beds and seating to accommodate the additional humans. Galen and Emery have been busy in the Nutrition Bay preparing food while Breccan has been pacing the halls near the Decontamination Bay. I know he’s most eager to see Hadrian. Aria and Quinn have been fussing over last minute details while Grace watches over the other mortlings. Everyone is on pawns and noodles as Molly says. Or is it nins and peedles?

  “The Big Bird has landed,” Sayer says, exhaling a rush of air. “Let’s go greet our friends.”

  I follow him out of there, eager to ask Theron a million questions about the coming threat and his thoughts on it. The next couple of hours, we watch through the glass as Breccan and Draven painstakingly put each suited body through a rigorous cleansing process. Once the humans are cleared, they enter the hall where they’re greeted by Calix. He quickly assesses them before pointing them to Sayer, who then shows them to where Aria is so she can give them the grand tour.

  At one time, I’d hoped for a whole harem of females. The idea sounds silly now when all I care about is one. One female is better than all the females combined.

  I recognize Theron and Hadrian bringing up the rear. Breccan hugs Hadrian for a long time. Theron moves past them, rushing through the process, and then bounces into the hall wearing a wide grin.

  “Missed all of you mortarekkers!”

  We all hug him, but I’m the first to break away and tear my gaze back to Hadrian and Breccan.

  “Where’s Avrell?” I demand.

  Theron lets out a whistle. “About that—”

  Breccan’s furious roar rattles the windows from inside the Decontamination Bay. Hadrian hangs his head as Breccan rages.

  “Is he…Did he go to The Eternals?” I rasp out.

  Theron snorts. “No, but—”

  “Give it time,” Willow says, her smile wide as she grabs Theron’s hand with hers. “Zoe will send him there if he doesn’t learn to shut his mouth around her.”

  Their playfulness grates on my nerves.

  “Enough,” I grit out. “Why are they not here?”

  Theron bristles, his sub-bones popping. “Don’t yell at my mate.”

  “I haven’t begun to yell yet,” I bite out, stalking over to him to poke his chest. “But if I don’t find out why my mate is being denied proper medical attention during her pregnancy, I will start to yell.”

  “I am perfectly capable,” Calix grunts out from nearby.

  “Come on,” Willow says to Theron. “You can yell at your buddy later. Let’s go see Momma. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this.”

  They share a sweet look before he drags her away toward Molly and Draven’s room.

  The door flings open and Breccan storms in, Hadrian on his heels. Both of them wear the same expression. Irritation. Anger. Fear.

  “Avrell and Zoe have made the decision against Hadrian’s command to stay,” Breccan snarls. “At first opportunity, Theron, you’re to ready the Mayvina. I’ll go round them up myself if I have to.”

  “Why?” I demand.

  Lyric shows up, standing beside her mate, Hadrian, and glowing with authority. “Because. It was necessary.” She turns her stare over to Breccan. “They didn’t want to risk infection. Everyone who traveled to the facility have been in strict medical quarantine and have been cleared of the disease. Avrell and Zoe have stayed with the infected. We couldn’t leave them to die alone.”

  Breccan trembles with fury, but Aria stands beside her sister, linking her arm with hers.

  “They were protecting us,” Aria says in a calm voice. “If they had asked permission, they would’ve been denied and you know it.”

  Breccan bares his fangs at her, but Aria doesn’t flinch.

  “Are you done now?” Aria asks. “It’d be great to have a meeting, greeting our new guests, but if you’re still having your tantrum, I’ll have Hadrian do it.”

  Hadrian starts forward, but Breccan stops him with a gentle grip to his shoulder.

  “No,” Breccan grunts. “I will call the meeting in the Nutrition Bay. But I want a full briefing on the situation in the command center as soon as this is over.”

  Fourteen unmated females.

  Fourteen.

  That’s all that’s left. There were so many once at the prison, and now there are so few.

  I can see the guilt swimming in Breccan’s gaze. As though he somehow feels responsible that these humans came to Mortuus, became infected with The Rades, and were killed off by the rekking disease. The ones who arrived at the facility—all fourteen—are survivors. Either they seem to be immune to th
e disease or survived it and are no longer contagious. During Breccan’s greeting earlier, they all seemed eager and happy to be here. Calix has been itching to study them, but we don’t have time for that. Not with the Kevins arriving tomorrow.

  “Julie’s condition is improving,” Avrell says over the comms.

  After Breccan spoke to the group and Galen fed them, several of us slipped away to the command center to make contact with Avrell.

  “She gave us a scare,” Zoe says, her brows furrowed with worry.

  “How many are left?” Breccan rasps out.

  Zoe looks down at her lap and Avrell’s shoulders hunch.

  “There were twelve when we left four solars ago,” Hadrian says from his chair beside me. “Still twelve sick?”

  Zoe stands abruptly and storms off. Avrell scowls as he runs his hand over his messy hair that’s usually kept neat. I note he’s no longer wearing his protective gear. His skin is pallid, and he seems fatigued.

  “Thirteen.”

  Breccan slams his fist down on the table, making it echo loudly. “Zoe?”

  Avrell scratches at his arm. “Doesn’t matter. We’re dealing with it.”

  “The rekk you are!” Breccan roars. “You’re sick. It’s you. It’s why you’re not wearing your gear. What did you do?”

  “I needed to test the disease on myself to see—”

  Breccan’s roars drown out whatever else Avrell says. Calix simply stares at the screen while dread washes over me. Hadrian buries his face in his hands.

  “The only way to come up with an inoculation that will service both humans and morts,” Avrell finishes. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. This is necessary for the survival of everyone. Because we might survive this round, but what about our future? Your mortlings? Their mortlings. It is absolutely necessary, Breccan, my brother, and I’m close. Give me time.”

  “The Kevins will be here soon. For all we know, they’ll show up at the prison looking for their people,” Breccan croaks out, defeated. “You’ll be outnumbered. We don’t have enough time to send Theron and others back to you. You’re all alone and there’s nothing I can rekking do about it.”