by Webster, K
“Your planet sickens me,” I snarl. “They punish those who protect the weak?”
“I’d do it all over again if it meant saving my daughter from that monster’s abusive hand,” she tells me in a fierce tone. “Hearing that baby crying just makes me think about my sweet Willow and it hurts, Draven. It just hurts.” She lets out a ragged sigh that rasps through the comms system. “I bet you guys wish you wouldn’t have intercepted that ship now, huh? Took a bunch of bad girls and saved them from doing life in prison. What did the other two do?”
“Aria remembers nothing about the ship. I’m not sure Emery does either.”
“Unfortunately, I remember everything.”
I give her rump a comforting squeeze that feels right in this moment. “We must tell the others. The commander will want to know this information.”
“I’m sorry,” she utters. “If you want to put me in one of your cells, I’ll understand.”
Shaking my nog, I find her sad stare. “You’re my mate, and I will not allow anyone to lock you away in a reform cell. This is my promise to you.”
“Thank you,” she breathes. Her arms wrap around my middle, and she rests her head against my chest. I’m tense at the affectionate gesture, but I don’t push her away.
No, I give her rump another two-handed squeeze.
This feels right.
This feels right.
This feels rekking right.
7
Molly
“Will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone, and this is hard enough as it is.”
Draven’s hands still as he helps me out of the over-suit—or zu-gear as he refers to it—and mask that I’ve learned is called a rebreather after a rigorous, decontaminating cleansing. “Of course, my mate. I won’t be going anywhere.” He sheds his own suit and stores our gear, before turning to me. “We must speak with Breccan and Aria at once. Any information you may know about you and the other aliens is vital.”
I nod and barely notice as he tugs me back to the corridor where Breccan and his mate, Aria, are resting with their newborn. Well, I barely notice anything other than the warmth of Draven’s hand clasped securely around my own. When I told him about what I’d done, the kind of person I am, he’d looked at me like…he was proud of me. No one has ever been proud of me before. No one has ever looked at me like he did.
No one has ever made me feel safe.
Draven may be big and scary and probably crazy, but he is mine now.
Before I know it, we’re at the door. Draven waits for an announcement to come in, then swipes his card, and the door slides open. I hesitate in the doorway until Draven turns with a curious look and tugs me forward. This time, I go inside and meet the authoritative commander once more, under better terms, and finally his human wife, Aria.
Breccan hovers over Aria, who is curled up in their bed. He turns when he sees us. “You said over the comms that you had news about the females. Come in.”
The baby squalls and Aria soothes him with a low hum. My throat turns to dust, and my knees lock. Draven glances back curiously, notes my distress, and comes immediately to my side. I could get used to having him around.
“Yes, Commander,” Draven answers as he positions himself behind me, almost wrapped around me. My protector. “I was speaking with my mate, and she shared with me that she remembers her past, where she came from. With the other two aliens having no memory of how they came to be on the ship, I thought it wise to come to you with this news immediately.”
Aria, who’d been thoroughly distracted by the slumbering bundle in her arms, springs to attention at his words. “She what?”
“The female told you about this?” Breccan demands.
I press my back into Draven’s chest, but when I speak, I keep my voice even. “You can talk to me. I’m right here. Besides, I’m the one with the answers you want. Yes, I told him. And I’ll tell you what I can.”
Snap.
Draven’s neck starts cracking behind me, and I grip his hand to calm him.
Sensing the tension between the two males, Aria mirrors my movement and places a soothing hand on Breccan’s arm. I guess this is what humans and mort males have in common; if it weren’t for women, no one would ever get anything done.
“We should get Sayer to call Emery and Calix on the comms,” Aria suggests. “She may have questions or be able to fill in any blanks that Molly can’t.”
“Draven,” Breccan directs.
I squeeze his hand to let him know it’s okay, and he leaves me with the other two to go summon Sayer.
An ache settles over my chest as I watch Breccan become distracted by the cooing little form in Aria’s arms. The two of them huddle over their baby with identical smiles of contentment, smiles I recognize. I’d felt like that once. Once upon a time, the woman smiling at the baby had been me.
Aria notices me staring and lifts the baby in my direction. “Would you like to hold him?”
I clear my throat. Tears prickle. “No, thank you.” I soften my words with a smile, and begin to hum under my breath, wondering how long it’ll take Draven to return. It’s not a good sign that I can only go a few minutes without his presence before I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. “La la, la la, la,” I hum.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Aria insists.
I hum louder, pretending I don’t hear her. “LA LA, LA LA LAAAA.”
The two of them share looks, but I pretend I don’t notice. An eternity passes until the doors reopen and Draven strides through with Sayer, the one with the long hair. This time it’s flowing all the way down to his butt. He’s carrying a device that he immediately sets up at Aria’s bedside, pausing to coo at the bundle in Aria’s arms.
“Emery,” Sayer says into the device. “Calix, this is Sayer.”
A crackle fills the line. Sayer repeats himself several times before another voice fills the room. “This is Calix, receiving transmission. Is everything all right?”
Sayer nods to Breccan, who says, “We’ve good news, my friend. Aria delivered our mortyoung. We named him for my father, Sokko.”
“That is great news, Commander. Emery will have a thousand questions, and me as well. Did—”
“I’ll have Avrell update you with the details. I’m afraid we’re calling for a different reason. Another female has woken.”
“Oh?” Calix replies.
“She remembers where the ship came from, where it was headed. We thought Emery should be present for the conversation. Is she with you?”
“I’m here, Breccan. Aria, congratulations on your baby. We’re so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Aria says, still glowing. “Emery, I’d like to introduce you to Molly. A magnastrike caused her cryotube to malfunction. She woke up during a lot of the confusion not too long ago, so we haven’t had time to properly introduce her to everyone.”
“When do we ever have time to do anything properly?” Emery asks dryly. “Pleased to meet you, Molly. My mate, Calix, and I are at Sector 1779 across the mountains. I woke up several months ago, and we had to travel here to use their medical facilities. I’m looking forward to hearing from you and filling in the holes in my memory.”
“Why don’t you start with the shuttle?” Aria suggests when I don’t answer. The baby in her arms has quieted and so have my thoughts.
My tongue unsticks itself from the roof of my mouth. I sense Draven behind me, and my chest unclenches. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything you remember. I’m afraid my memory is a complete blank, so any information you have would be helpful.”
There’s a loud scrape of metal against floor as Draven drags a chair over, urging me to sit on his lap. The other morts watch us with keen fascination, but my thoughts are too jumbled to work out why. “Well, first, I suppose I should tell you that I’m not a perfect person. I’ve made mistakes in my past. I was on the shuttle because I killed my ex-husband, who was abusive. He used to beat me and my child, and I
couldn’t take it anymore.” I say the last bit quickly, trying to gloss over the bit about Willow as fast as possible so the image of her sweet face doesn’t materialize, but it’s no use. Speaking of her so much, knowing I may never see her again, has the pain of her loss rolling over me in great waves. I hum a little, losing the thread of conversation, and Draven nuzzles his cheek against my arm.
“You say you were on the shuttle because you killed your ex-husband?” Emery prompts. Was it a trick of the static from the comms unit, or did she sound a little breathless?
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yes. I was sentenced to life on Exilium for my crime.” The next part is so hard to say, I nearly choke. “My daughter was taken to live with another family, and I was being transported on the shuttle to carry out my sentence.”
“Kevins,” Breccan growls inexplicably. “Your alien males are all Kevins.”
I don’t understand what he means by that, but Draven seems to because he nods in agreement, his cheek brushing against my arm again. Aria whispers to Breccan, and he settles.
“The same is true for my Emery,” Calix says over the comms unit. “She was also sentenced to life imprisonment.”
Breccan’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and Draven stiffens at this information which appears to be new to them.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked at this development,” Breccan says, turning to his mate, pride evident on his fearsome face. “I have no doubt you must have been en route to Exilium as well, Aria. My mate is a fighter.”
Aria shakes her head in disbelief. “No, I couldn’t have been…could I?” She turns to me with a quizzical look.
The change of topic helps revitalize me, and I breathe deeply for the first time since Draven led me back inside. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you were on the shuttle as well.” A blush stains my cheeks. “I only know this because I recognized you, you know from the movies. You’re a pretty famous actress back home.”
“Do you remember what I was there for?” Aria asks. “Surely it was a mistake.”
“Well,” I murmur, “it was all over the news…”
If she doesn’t remember, then I don’t know if I want to be the one to tell her.
“Go on,” Breccan urges.
“You, uh…” I start, skimming my gaze to Draven who nods for me to continue. “You set your talent manager’s home on fire.” I flash her a sympathetic look. “With him in it.”
“Kevin?” she chokes out, her eyes going wide.
Breccan and Draven both growl.
“Yeah, him,” I say softly. “Everyone said it was because you were high, but by the way you were screaming obscenities on live television at the burning home and how you hoped he rots in hell, it had me drawing my own conclusions.”
I know all about horrible men. And her crime, like mine, was one of passionate fury.
“I killed Kevin,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Holy shit. I killed Kevin.”
Breccan grins proudly at her. “Rekking right you did!”
Draven grunts his approval and nods at her.
Breccan starts to say something else, but she slaps a hand over his mouth before he can speak and balances the baby on one arm. “Don’t you say a word,” she warns before speaking to Emery on the comms. “You didn’t know this?”
“Bits and pieces have come back to me since the surgery. I knew about the penitentiary at Exilium, but I didn’t know where or who you were back where we’re from,” she answers, then adds, “To be honest, I was afraid to admit what little I knew until I confessed everything to Calix.”
“Do you know where the reformation camp was located?” Sayer asks with his pen poised above a notebook. “Exilium you say? Never heard of it.”
I shake my head. “Everything’s a little blurry. It happened so fast.” I begin to hum again and turn away from them. Too much. It’s too much.
Draven, who’d been quiet as we spoke, takes over. “We’ll speak to Theron about accessing the flight plans and data from their shuttle. Perhaps if we can identify a destination, we’ll learn more.”
The baby begins to cry, and I shoot to my feet. Draven stands and murmurs something in my ear I don’t understand, but his voice is soothing, already familiar. Avrell is called for, and he rushes in to join the meeting, his worried gaze only for Aria and her child. I’ve said all I’ve come to say, so I fall silent.
“We must go, Breccan,” Calix says. “Be well.”
Sayer slips out as Avrell begins to examine the squalling infant. I swear I see fangs, but I could be mistaken. It’s been a long day.
“Is he eating well?” Avrell asks as he takes measurements and readings.
Aria smiles sweetly, exhausted. I want to tell her I remember the feeling, but the words won’t come. “Almost around the clock,” she says. “Avrell, be straight with me. It’s only been a short while, but I can tell something is wrong. He doesn’t seem settled. He eats a lot, and I know I could be the fretful first-time mom, but I’ve got a gut instinct that’s telling me he isn’t getting enough.”
Avrell sighs, rubbing his eyes. “We’ve learned that mortyoung grow at an accelerated rate compared to humans. He was born earlier than typical human young, yet much larger despite the reduced gestation. But, uncharacteristic to normal mortyoung, he rapidly shed his birthweight at an exceedingly alarming rate. I thought maybe it would take time for his vitals to even out, but they’re not showing as much improvement as I’d like. And though it is normal for mortyoung to lose a certain percentage of weight after birth, little Sokko is losing too much, too fast. So, I’m sorry Aria, Commander, but yes, I think you’re right. He isn’t getting enough nutrients from your milk alone.”
A tear falls down Aria’s cheek, the earlier revelations already forgotten. “What can we do?”
“When my little one wasn’t getting enough from me alone, I had to supplement with formula,” I say. I don’t know where the words come from, because that certainly couldn’t have been my voice. No. I turn away, but they’re already taking my contribution and running with it.
Avrell perks up. “You remember when Hadrian was but a few micro-revolutions, when we had to give him so much rogcow milk, we thought he’d drink the whole herd dry? We could perhaps do the same for young Sokko. With the combination of mort and alien genes, it could be that the mortyoung will need more nutrients. It’s worth the risk to travel,” Avrell says.
As the others speak, I let Draven lead me away from the sound of their voices until the doors slide shut behind us.
“It’s all right, my Molly. I’ve got you. Let me take you back to our quarters. I’ll have Galen fetch some of those goldenroot candies you aliens like so much. You can rest, and I’ll bring you to eat once Breccan has finished speaking with Avrell.”
“I don’t want to talk about that anymore. At least not now. I know there are things you need to know—it just hurts.” I stop him before we enter his quarters, meeting his eyes. “Please?”
Draven brushes the hair away from my face. “I understand pain, my Molly. And I’ll do whatever I can to take yours away.”
8
Draven
Two solars.
All it took was two solars to go from peace to rekking madness. Every single mort and the two females here are on edge.
It’s the mortling, Sokko.
I’ve never heard anything screech so loudly and for so long.
Never rekking ending.
Avrell has been working tirelessly to extract more milk from Aria’s breasts in an effort to duplicate its properties while Galen scans our region for rogcow herds. The geostorm is out of the way now, but The Graveyard is barren and empty of life, which is typical after these climatic events. All Galen needs to do is give me word on where a herd is, and I’ll hunt down those rekking rogcows.
“You’re pacing,” Molly says from our bed.
I pull away from my inner turmoil to regard her. This solar she is irresistible. I’m finding it more
and more difficult to keep my hands from her. All I want is to take hold of her fleshy rump and squeeze it. At night, when she slumbers, her face burrows against my chest, and I take my fill of her bottom in my hands. She never pushes me away. It’s as though the touch comforts her, too.
“We need to find a herd,” I say absently, stalking over to the bed to sit beside her.
She’s perched on her knees, and when I relax beside her, she wraps her slender arms around me. Hugging. She calls these squeezes of energy hugs. I asked Avrell if the aliens have special abilities because my mate seems to send bursts of life thrumming through my veins during these episodes. He told me it’s a four-letter word I don’t know yet. I suspect he was having amusement at my expense and have been agitated ever since.
I nuzzle my face against the side of her neck that smells sweet and mouth-watering. Her scent is one I’ve grown quite addicted to. She has claws, too, but they are different. Rounded and thinner. The same color as her flesh. And her claws are not useless as I once thought. They contain their own abilities.
To calm.
The moment she rakes her claws through the patchy hair on my nog, it has a relaxing effect on my body. I would ask Avrell, but I do not choose to be laughed at again. One of my arms wraps around her middle, and I try to mimic her hugs. I don’t have the same powers as her, but I try to show through my actions that I wish I did. She seems to appreciate my attempts because she rewards me with her lovely signing as she calls it and her calm clawing.
“Do you think they’ll ever find the herds?” she murmurs, her hot breath tickling the top of my nog.
My lips whisper over her flesh. “Not any time soon. The geostorms have sent them into hiding. Places where the scanners aren’t picking up.”
She shivers. “Do you think Sokko will die?”
I wince at that thought. Though the mortling is unappealing to look at, I don’t want it to die. Breccan and Aria—everyone besides Molly and myself—look at the miniature beast as though it is wrought from the sun itself. Bright and beautiful. It would break this faction if we lost our first true hope for a future on our planet. The Eternals are no place for a mortling. Breccan might retreat to his dark, inner thoughts for good this time. This is something I cannot allow. He brought me from my darkness, and I refuse to let him go there. The darkness is a place no mort should ever go.