by Rose, Renee
“What are our orders?” The warrior asks the burning question we all hold in our heart. “What shall we do?”
“We shall carry on as normal.” Zander’s voice is firm and calming. “You will each do your job. You will engage in patrols and rescue missions. In medicine and training. In mating and raising young. You will live and support Zandia, as you always do. In addition, we will increase our monitoring and code deciphering efforts. And we will pour efforts into the training of new fleet captains and fighters. You will be notified as you are called for duty.”
As the meeting disperses, Zander gestures for me to remain. “How goes it with Taisha?”
“It is fine.” I try to maintain my composure. Surely Zander would be displeased at my lapses in self control with Taisha. But I know I can overcome this, push past it. Make a decision based on data. Maybe I should recommend he choose someone else to judge her fitness for our planet. But I barely entertain that thought before discarding it. I know her best. I’m the one who can find out her secrets.
“The end of her probation draws near. You’ve seen nothing to preclude her from asylum, have you?”
“No, my lord,” I admit, even though I want to insist she requires a longer probationary period. That I need more time with her.
“I have received more than half a dozen requests to mate her from various groups. If she is cleared for asylum, I’d prefer to integrate her into society sooner rather than later. After all”—he gestures at the station where the holo information was presented—“there is increasing urgency to grow our ranks.”
I glower at him, and I swear he finds amusement in it. “I believe she has not disclosed all of the information she knows,” I blurt.
It’s true. She still has secrets. Ones I thought I’d have out of her by now.
“Most humans are not capable of disclosing all of their thoughts and memories immediately upon arrival. If we deem them a safe fit for Zandia, we allow them to do it in their own timeframe.”
“Something critical. I just—sense it.” I stiffen. This does not sound like my usual logical self. I’m the one who relies on data, not nebulous feelings.
“How so?”
I shake my head. “Her demeanor changes when I ask certain questions. Her body language shows guilt. About something.”
“What makes you think think she could be harmful or traitorous?”
“Nothing. I just need more time to find out what she’s holding back.” I hold my breath.
The king tilts his head. “Your time is almost up. You will have to make a decision.”
I glance up. “What decision, my lord?”
“Whether you wish to keep her,” he says mildly.
Chapter 15
Drayk
I don’t like it. Bringing Taisha back to the planet where she was enslaved is a horrible idea.
But Dr. Daneth and Bayla require more of the wall-eck fruit and serpent venom to try to reproduce the poison, and of course, Taisha is the only being who knows exactly where to find such things.
Still, I’ve warned every warrior on board that if Taisha is captured we will fully engage. I don’t care about using toxins and making it look like an accident. I don’t give a veck if they know it’s Zandians who are poaching from their planet.
I will not let my little human be recaptured.
Not when it would surely cost her her life.
Or even worse—a lifetime of torture.
“Approaching Romon-3 airspace. Check cloaking.” Mirelle’s mate Domm speaks, as he’s the official captain of this mission. He didn’t say so, but I fear Master Seke wasn’t sure I’d be level-headed enough to lead this mission with Taisha along.
I told him she’s not my mate and my emotions are unaffected, but I saw the doubt in his cool gaze. So he doubled up two teams on board—Tarak and I to run fly, Mirelle and her mates to take Taisha onto the ground.
I clench my fist and force myself back to the panels and lights. “We are in position and cloaking is fully functional. Here are their search signals”— I point to Tarak’s screen, where pulses of green zoom out intermittently from Romon-3— “which our previous ships would not be able to avoid.”
Tarak nods. “But with our new tech, we can adjust our cloaking with their power waves to stay invisible. We’ll be down in three… two… one.”
Mirelle turns to Taisha. “Are you ready?”
Taisha’s face is tense, but she nods. So brave for such a sensitive being, especially considering she still suffers from post-traumatic stress from her enslavement here.
“I’m going along,” I say, deviating from orders.
Domm raises a brow, but to my relief, he doesn’t refuse. I grip the handle of my sword and follow the group onto the ground. We’ve landed in an unpopulated area of the planet, near a thicket of wall-eck trees.
The fruit will be the easy part, it’s the serpent venom that’s difficult. But Dr. Daneth says with a fresh supply, we should be able to match its chemical breakdown.
I’m in warrior mode, watching everything, as we guard the perimeter and gather fruit and seeds, so our human ag farmers can regrow the trees on Zandia.
“I was right. They keep the same schedule.” Taisha’s voice is low and quivery. “We won’t see them at all, Ocretions or… my frien—the humans.”
And I realize with a flash of insight that she’s not entirely happy about this.
“It’s the only way.” I nod at my foot soldier to close the sack that’s full of fallen fruit. “If we are seen, we are dead.” My voice is flat and firm. “There is no time for deviation.”
“I know it.” She stands tall. “It’s just…” She seems to sway before righting herself. “Being back here is more difficult than I imagined.”
I’m torn between the absolute desire to comfort her and the need to keep the mission on schedule. I squeeze her hand. “You can do this.”
I step closer and stare into her eyes. Her burnished brown skin glows in the light of this sun, and her curls blow in the breeze, and I wish to touch her face. But I cannot.
There’s no time to comfort her, so I hope my words convey how much confidence I have in her. ”Tell me where to find the serpents. You are the one who can do this for us. For Zandia.”
She waves a hand. “They prefer the soft earth alongside the river. It is there that they create burrows and lay eggs. We can go now, as all the slaves are on the southern perimeter for harvest.” She points across the shimmering landscape to a far-flung tree line that hovers on the horizon.
“Behind the woods.” She hesitates. “Although guards still make their rounds.”
I nod to our own Zandian guard, who raises his weapon to his shoulder and points to a fellow soldier, indicating he should bring the gear Taisha requested. “Let’s go. Follow and protect.”
Taisha walks quickly, looking around, taking an expedient route past low hills and rocky crags until we reach a grassy area that leads to the churning river. Then she stops short.
“Are you all right?” I touch her shoulder.
She stands still, staring. “This is where… he fell in. The one I saved. Where he, and later I, nearly died.”
“Because of you, the river holds life.” I do not know where the words came from. They are poetic beyond my normal capability, but I feel them to be true. “Do not be afraid.”
She whirls around and locks eyes with me, and the intensity of her gaze is startling. She nods. “Thank you.”
A guard interrupts. “Serpent!” He steps back. “Watch out, it’s angry.”
The brown and gray striped creature, sinuous, coils and raises up its narrow triangular head, and a bright red tongue flicks the air.
“Yes, that’s the right one.” Taisha’s voice is taut. “You must sever the head with one blow. At least, this is how we always did it. And for the sake of this experiment, we must duplicate everything possible.”
“I understand.” The guard’s eyes are locked onto the snake.
; Zandian warriors are not afraid of anything. But the serpent is a new entity, and we are not sure how it may react.
I put up a hand. “Observe first before killing it, so you get a clean cut.”
The guard nods, then raises his sword. He hesitates for just a split second, and the snake suddenly darts away, disappearing into a small hole in the earth.
Veck. Now we must wait for another.
Minutes go by, and the sun starts to sink lower in the sky.
“We must find one,” I announce, glancing around. “Or leave.”
But no snakes appear.
Taisha takes a breath. “We can draw them out,” she says. “Swish the grass, like this.” She uses her arms as if mimicking a scythe and moves her feet amidst the lumps of earth. “This disrupts them. It’s why we hated working by the river.”
“It’s too dangerous for you,” I protest, scowling. “You are not wearing protective gear —”
“We have no time. Look, I will bring one. You will see. They always came out in droves when we had to work here—aaaee!”
She jumps back. Stars, it’s the biggest serpent I’ve ever seen! It rears up immediately, hissing, and the guard brandishes his sword.
But Taisha shakes her head. “The sword is too short. It may pierce you with its fangs.” Then, taking a deep breath, she reaches out a hand. “Let me do it. I will do it just the way it’s always been done. But please hand me that hoe that lies beside the old log. I can only do this with the tools I’m used to—” She keeps her gaze locked on to the snake, but gestures behind her, to where a few tools have been left, waiting for their human slaves to return.
The guard looks to me. I nod, so he grabs the iron tool and hands it over.
And barely has she grasped the rough implement in her hand before she moves, fast as lightning, whirling her arms and stabbing the blade downward. “Got it! Look!”
She laughs in delight. “ I did it! Here, see.” She points, then turns to look at me and the guard, then back to the snake, wriggling in the throes of death. “Don’t let the venom touch you or your clothes. Scoop the head into the moisture-proof bag, and I’ll toss the body into the river.”
“I can tell you’ve done this a few times.” I raise an eyebrow. My heart pounds with adrenaline and relief.
“Even better, look at this.” She gets down on her knees and scoops dirt with her hands. “Eggs. Take these, too. We can hatch and breed them on Zandia.”
“Thank veck we brought you,” I mutter. Without her guidance we’d never have found the serpents and eggs this quickly. “Each time, you surprise me with your ingenuity.” By the one true Zandian star, I swear this human does something fantastic every time we ask.
But I’m anxious to get her back to safety. None of us are secure here, and it’s critical we leave before any being knows we’ve been on the planet.
As we approach our ship, Taisha looks back over her shoulder. Like she’s wishing against hope that she could see her friends just once.
I touch her arm. “This is the way to help them. The only way.” Veck, if it were possible, I’d love to slaughter all of the Ocretion overlords here and save each and every human.
This is not the time.
“I know. I just… hope they’re all right,” she whispers. The longing in her gaze makes me want to draw her into my arms.
But my brave human squares her shoulders and starts to step up to the threshold and that’s when an Ocretion steps out from behind the wing of our craft.
My sword flashes out at the same time I sweep my leg under his feet to knock him to the ground. As he falls, I realize he’s slight in stature. Small for an Ocretion. The tip of my blade finds its mark, just below the male’s chin.
“No. Wait!” Taisha’s voice rings out, loud and true. The other warriors with me have all drawn swords and laser guns. The Ocretion stands no chance against us, and from what I can tell, he appears to be alone.
“Hold your weapons. Don’t hurt him,” Taisha calls. Her voice is so confident, so pure. I’ve never heard her like this. And standing there, with her dark curls around her head like a halo, her glorious form straight and tall, she’s like some goddess out of ancient mythology.
“You have no authority…”
I cut off Domm. “Let her speak.” I have no authority either; he’s the captain. But I don’t doubt her.
“Do you know this guard, Taisha?” She comes to stand beside me, her body brushing mine.
“He’s not a guard. He’s the son of my master.”
“The young you told me about?”
“Yes. He’s the only living being who saw me leave Romon-3. He’s not going to hurt us.”
“How can you be so sure?” Domm asks.
“I trust her judgment.” It is as much a shock to me that an Ocretion knew she left Romon-3. This is what she was keeping from me. But I also know how much she values her bond with Leylah.
“I trust her.” And it’s true. I know in my heart that Taisha is a good being. If she kept this a secret, it must be for a reason.
“His name is Marshan. I saved his life once, and then he saved mine. He let me escape from Romon-3 and kept my secret. He covered for me.” She steps forward and offers her hand to the Ocretion. “I do not believe he means us harm.”
“All Ocretions mean us harm. It is a trick or a mistake if you think otherwise,” Mirelle says, clearly speaking from her own experience.
“I agree. We cannot follow your gut on this one.” Domm backs up his mate.
My own instincts align with Taisha’s, but logic makes me unsure.
“I am not here to stop you.” The young speaks Ocretion, but with a strange musical undertone. When I look closer, I see a hint of otherness around the eyes, which are oddly blue and more oval than typical Ocretion features.
“Marshan.”
“Taisha.”
The two of them stare at each other, and all of us hold our breaths.
“What are you doing here?” Domm demands.
“I wish to leave Romon-3 with you. I must leave Ocretia.” He gestures to his chest, where the insignia gleams. As we watch, he rips it from his vest and tosses it to the ground. “I renounce the Ocretion way of life. I am part Wark, and I wish to join their coalition.”
Every being is stunned at this development.
“Wark?” I lean forward to examine him better.
Then I see it. “Your eyes. They are not Ocretion.”
He tilts his head.
Taisha gasps. “Your eyes looked a little different at the river. But you were Ocretion. Now you’ve changed.” She steps forward. “How did you change?”
He lifts his chin. “It’s in my genes.”
“Explain.” Domm’s voice is brusque. “Because to me it sounds absurd. How can an Ocretion change into another being?”
Marshan touches his face. “I did not know I was not a full-blooded Ocretion. That my mother was Wark. All I knew was that I felt different, even though I looked like all the others, and that my father distrusted me.”
I’m spellbound. I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“Wark genes do not always express in a half-breed but stay dormant until puberty. Then they either die out by the time a young reaches maturity, or they take over. Usually they die out, if a being with Wark genes is raised as a different species. My father planned to turn me into a full Ocretion, as I am his only young, and he is incapable of siring more. He killed my mother and obtained an Ocretion female to raise me, hoping that my genes would not express.”
As much as I hate Ocretions, I feel some sympathy for his situation, especially because it seems—against all odds—that he’s not really Ocretion after all.
He continues. “But he was not successful. The planet rotation Taisha saved me from the river, I discovered there was something different about me—something I liked—and I desired to let that thing loose. Since then, each planet rotation, I feel the Wark presence more fully in my body. I need to escape before it�
�s noticed and I am killed.”
“I knew there was something about you. I felt it in my bones.” Taisha breathes the words. “It’s why you saved me.”
“It’s why you saved me.” He blinks at her, those intelligent eyes. “You could tell I was different, almost before I knew it myself.”
Then he holds up something. “Leylah said to show this to you when it was time. She told me to keep it inside an orange fruit, to make it shiny. To match, she said. I didn’t understand.”
“Leylah spoke to you?” Taisha trembles. “When?” Her eyes, still trained on Marshan on the screen, fill with tears.
“The planet rotation she died. The planet rotation you left. She found me alone and slid it into my hand.” He holds the item out to Taisha.
Taisha unfurls her fingers, a flower unfolding, to reveal a coin of her own. She lifts it to his, and we see the two coins. Identical.
“She had two.” Taisha whispers it. “I had no idea.”
“How did you know we would be here?” Domm demands. After all, the being is just a child.
Marshan shakes his head. “Leylah told me I would know when the time came. And I did.”
It’s the oddest thing, but as he speaks, his face seems to shimmer and change. A trick of the light? In the few minutes we’ve been talking to him, his jaw looks narrower. His skin a paler blue, instead of pure gray.
He winces. “Please—will you take me to the Wark?” He lifts his head and locks eyes with Domm. “Some planet rotation we will be your ally in this galaxy. But I have little time. My metamorphosis is happening fast once I recognized it and allowed it to proceed. I need to get there so they can help me control it. I will die without proper intervention. There is a ritual…”
“I have never heard of such.” Domm’s voice is full of wonder. Doubt. Confusion.
I feel all those things as well. “Can it possibly be true? Is it a trick?”
Then I look back at Taisha. Her face is full of confidence. “It’s not a trick.” She’s absolutely sure. “This is what Leylah meant. There’s no way he could have known about the orange unless she told him. And she would not have told him unless she meant to. She was not the kind who would give out information under any circumstances.”