by Roxie Ray
It was enough. With a nod of dismissal, I set Leonix about organizing the troops aboard the ship and moved to speak with Kloran and Bria before I did the same.
“A moving speech, General Haelian.” Kloran gave me a wry smile as he used my new title. General. I liked how it sounded, though admittedly, the new medals and regalia across the breast of my jacket beneath my house’s sigil still felt a little heavier than they should have. “The men seem well-roused.”
“As they should be.” I turned to Bria, wishing I could give her a smile of my own. Unfortunately, the stakes were too great. We would lose good men on this mission, a fact she and I both knew well. “I only hope that we can make things right for these females of your kind, Bria. I know your own suffering before you and Kloran, ah…” My gaze dipped toward Kaliope, who was reaching for my medals with a chubby little fist. “Well. Before. I fear for your fellow humans, though. When we find them—and we will—their suffering will surely have been unfathomably greater.”
“Which is why I appreciate everything you’re doing so much, Haelian.” Bria’s eyes shone with gratefulness as she shifted Kaliope in her arms. “We all do. I know you would probably rather have Kloran along with you, but…”
Kloran and I exchanged a glance. He shrugged.
“I would like to help liberate these females as well, truth be told,” he admitted. “But I know there is no one in all the galaxies more capable than Haelian in seeing this mission through. It could not have been placed in better hands.”
“Besides,” I added, finally finding the smile for Bria I had been searching for. “You have a family to take care of now.”
For a moment, Kloran drew back from the conversation to gaze down fondly at Bria and Kaliope. There was nothing short of strong, unending love in his eyes any time they were so much as mentioned. With the two of them by his side, as they were now, he could have easily been the proudest man on the entire planet—and he had every reason to be.
I did not grudge Kloran his love for his wife and daughter. His place was with them now, and I welcomed this chance to prove myself as a general in my own right. If anything, I felt joy for the warmth Kloran’s new little family had wrapped around him like a fine fur cloak. But though I hated to admit it, I did not envy him for it. I had seen firsthand that what Kloran and Bria shared was rarer than anything else in all the galaxies. More precious than any gemstone, than water, than gold—and in that preciousness, far too much beyond my own reach to even dream of. My own parents, the Duke and Duchess Mihor, had proved that to me long ago. Unlike Kloran and Bria, my parents’ marriage had been an arranged one, as I had often assumed my own would be someday—given that I could not avoid it, at any rate. But my own mother and father had shared no love between them. In fact, by the time I was old enough to begin training in the fighting pits, I had already realized that they would like nothing more than to be allowed into the pits themselves. Not to fight a mutual enemy—to fight each other. To the death, if it were only allowed.
I could feel joy for Kloran and Bria, but I could not even fathom having a partnership like theirs for myself. In that regard, the shortage of women on Lunaria was something of a gift to me. My house was one of the wealthiest on all of Lunaria, but if I was lucky, I would be able to continue my military career without the heavy weight of a marriage, without love on my shoulders. My younger sister, Hasina, would have her pick of mates when she finally came of age. If she was blessed with two cubs and her husband was willing, I could name one of them my heir and be rid of this entire song and dance that marriage had become amongst the High Houses. Kloran was lucky in his love for Bria. But for me, I knew, there was no such luck to be had.
“Just because I am not coming along for this mission does not mean I expect you to put yourself in harm’s way though, Haelian.” Kloran kissed Bria’s forehead, then put his hand on my back to guide me toward the ship. “You must be clever in your assaults on the Rutharians. Vigilant.”
“When am I not?”
Kloran sighed, then cast a glance over his shoulder as if to ensure his wife and cub were out of earshot. “It is not you that I am worried about, Haelian. It is those of us you leave behind that I fear for, should your mission go awry. You have people here on Lunaria who love and care for you. Hasina. Your parents. Bria and I. And your niece will need to know her uncle when you return.” His smile was soft, but his eyes were serious and sharp. “You must return to us safely. You cannot let Kaliope down.”
At the boarding ramp for the ship, Kloran lowered his hand from my back and gave Leonix a nod.
“We will miss you, cousin,” Leonix said, returning the gesture. “But rest assured; I will not allow Haelian to make any rash decisions in your absence.”
At that, we all laughed. Of the three of us, Kloran was the hothead, the temperamental one. Leonix was clearheaded and passionate, and I had often been referred to as calculating to the point of coldness. We all wanted to see the human females rescued and placed in safe care, but if anyone was to make rash decisions in this mission, it would have been Kloran himself. In that regard, as Bria would have said, he was preaching to the choir.
We spent a week in space before we came to approach our target. The Rutharian ship was as vast as it was ugly, covered in sharp, dark spikes and a patchwork of sloppily welded metal across its hull. Our intelligence had promised us that somewhere within the labyrinth of its interior corridors, human slaves were being held captive on board. Three had been confirmed for certain, though if we found more, I was determined to rescue them all. The single grace of this whole situation was the lack of a contract between Earth and the slave trade commission. Any human we found aboard any Rutharian ship, we could confidently assume had ended up there against their will.
My only hope was that in the time it had taken to verify the whereabouts of these females, they had not come to too much harm. With the Rutharians, though…
I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration as I sent out a call on my communicator to summon Nion to the bridge.
With the Rutharians, there was a good chance that I was entertaining that hope in vain.
“You called, General?” Nion approached me from across the bridge with a slight limp, a remnant of the wound he’d received the last time he’d butted heads with Rutharian berserkers. One that I was sure he would be eager to avenge. His dark hair was parted slightly by his bone-white horns, filed to sharpened points.
“I did,” I confirmed, turning to him. “I wanted you to know that when we board the ship, I’ll be leading the charge.”
His eyes narrowed for a moment. I could sense that he was mulling over whether or not to point out the folly in that decision. It wasn’t necessary, of course. Leonix had already told me what an idiotic choice she believed I was making, a general carrying out a soldier’s work. But I would not lead from my armchair while my men risked their lives. If we were to do this, then I would be the first in the firing line.
“I see,” Nion finally said, choosing to hold his words. “It will be a full assault, then? Shall I rally all hands?”
I smiled as I shook my head. “No. That will not be necessary. Because of the delicacy of this mission… They have hostages aboard, Nion. We cannot risk going in guns blazing.”
Slowly, Nion began to nod as well. “A covert operation, then. In and out, before the Rutharians even realize we have taken what is theirs.”
“What they believe to be theirs,” I corrected him. “And then, once we know the humans are safe…”
“We make them think twice about ever trying to capture another.”
“Exactly.”
Nion’s grin matched mine now, but there was hesitation in his eyes. “It is a fair plan, General, but…”
“You are wondering why I’m telling it to you now,” I guessed.
Nion shrugged. “I am not of the High Houses. I know the sound of a good idea when I hear one, but I am not worthy of counseling you—and besides, your mind seems to be already mad
e up.”
I bridged the gap between us and placed my hand on Nion’s shoulder. “I am only taking three other men aboard with me. If you are willing, I would have you fighting at my right.”
Nion’s eyes faded to white— the color of confusion and surprise. “At your right, General? That is…it is too great of an honor for a soldier like me, and…”
I quirked an eyebrow. “An honor you do not wish to claim? I know you for many things, Nion, but never for modesty.”
“No. That is not what I mean.” Nion licked his lips and lowered his gaze. “It is only…with my leg, General, I fear that I will only slow you down.”
My grip tightened on his shoulder. I stared at him until finally he raised his gaze to mine again.
“You were injured during your last battle, Nion. Injured—but not broken. Your leg is healed now.”
“Only because General Kloran’s wife caught the infection in it in time.” Nion’s eyes faded back into their normal purple, but it was not as vibrant a shade as it should have been. “Admittedly, General, I am ashamed that I was so badly injured in the first place.”
“Which is why you will fight at my side today,” I told him with confidence. “I have seen you move in our drills. Seen you spar with the other men. You move no less quickly than you did before, and you fight with the passion of a man who has something to prove. So.” I smiled at him and clapped him on the back. “Prove it, then.”
Reluctantly, Nion nodded in agreement. But with each bob of his head, the vibrancy returned to his eyes until they were tinged almost to red. “I thank you for this opportunity, General. And I swear on my own house, however low it may be—I will not let you down.”
While our small reconnaissance cruiser approached the weakest point on the Rutharian dreadnought, Leonix would man the bridge. Her role in this was to place a video communication to distract the Rutharian captain while we docked and boarded through the Rutharians’ garbage vent. It was a job Leonix had met with a sinister sort of glee. She knew that as a rare Lunarian female, she would be of much interest to the Rutharians. When I caught sight of her as Nion and I made our way to the boarding bay, she was clad in a stark white midriff-bearing top with a plunging neckline and golden harem pants, dripping with jewels.
“If she is not careful, she will attract more than the attention of the Rutharians,” Nion grumbled as we slipped into the cockpit of the cruiser. “There is not a man aboard the Avant Lupinia whose head she did not turn, flouncing around like that.”
“Ha! Has Leonix even caught your eye, Nion?” Ronan, one of the other warriors I had hand-picked for this mission, elbowed Nion in the ribs before taking his own seat.
“And here we thought you were too good to even look at females—of our species or any other,” Gallix, our fourth man and pilot, added with a smug grin.
Nion and I exchanged a tired glance. Despite his concern for Leonix, I knew Nion to be much like myself when romance was involved. Our only focus now needed to be on the mission ahead.
“Let Leonix have her fun.” I gave Gallix a nod and he started up the cruiser’s launch sequence. “It is a rare occasion, that she has a chance to practice her arts of seduction as well as she practices the art of war. She will play her part well—now, we must play ours.”
Gallix steered our ship with proficiency through the thick cloud of garbage and refuse that always followed Rutharian ships. Not only were they war criminals and brutes—they were polluters of any length of space they marred with their presence, too. In this way, among so many others, my chest swelled with pride at the importance of our mission.
We would free the human captives that the Rutharians had stolen, and once they were safe in our care, this sector would be rid of one more blight between its stars.
“This must be done quickly,” I reminded the men as our cruiser slipped through the garbage chute and landed among the piles of trash. “In and out. We have no time to waste, and even less to lose.”
Our boots hit the ground running. Ronan, who had studied the schematics of the dreadnought with care, guided our way through the twists and turns of its halls. Behind him, Nion and I were armed and ready to fight. In anticipation of a sneak attack, Gallix took up the rear. I held my blaster in one hand and my short-sword in the other. At the first Rutharian we encountered, I would not hesitate. The Rutharians would aim to maim then torture; we would shoot to kill.
Thankfully, we made it to the ship’s holding cells without even so much as a skirmish. I took it as a fortuitous sign, but I did not allow my guard to lower. Arriving to the humans’ aid uninjured would allow us our full strength as we carried them back to our cruiser, but there was still a high chance that fate would not smile upon us so fondly on our return trip. Then, we would be burdened with three terrified females, with only Ronan free to fight with all his arms. It was fortunate for us, then, that Ronan had arms to spare. He was of a rare Lunarian sub-race from the deep south of our continent. Where the other men and I only had two arms to spare, Ronan and his jungle-dwelling ancestors had all been blessed with four. With a blaster in each of his four hands, there would be no mercy for any Rutharian who tried to stop us.
Ronan disabled the lock of the doors to the cells with a small explosive device. It was quiet enough, the sound of it alone would not draw any attention to us. But I knew as soon as the lock was disabled, the Rutharians would be alerted to the breach in their systems on the bridge.
As smoke hissed from the doors and Ronan forced them to part manually, I could only hope that Leonix’s beauty and charms would prove to be as distracting for the Rutharian captain as they had been for our own men.
We thundered into the cells with haste. The first breath I drew once inside turned my eyes red and sent a stifled roar tearing through my chest.
Blood. The sweet, sticky, metallic scent was impossible to ignore. The first six cells we passed were dark, cold, and empty, but the traces of the pain that had been endured within them still lingered in that smell. The stolen slaves that had inhabited those cells had already met their fates. Knowing the Rutharians, those fates had not been gentle ones, either. A cold coil of dread writhed in my stomach the further we delved into the narrow hallway between the cells.
What if we were already too late?
But then, with a hiss of relief, Ronan led us to the first cell bearing a sign of life within. A small, deathly pale human female lay in the corner, curled up into a ball that rose and fell—just barely—with soft, shallow breaths. With a nod, I dispatched Gallix to take her. At the sound of his approach, her eyes snapped open and her jaw dropped to let out a shriek of terror. But Gallix moved more quickly. Before the scream could escape her throat, he clapped a hand over her lips and injected her with a fast-acting sedative. She slumped against his chest only a few seconds later. It was not how any of us would have liked to go about this, but after the trauma these females had endured, we knew it was the only way to whisk them away from their cells quietly without further endangering them—or us.
A few cells down, a high, sharp yelp followed by a furious grunt that I recognized as Nion’s told me that not all of our captives would be recovered as smoothly as this first. I rushed to his aid, only to find him locked in a wrestling match with a filth-covered older female, who seemed intent on clawing Nion’s eyes out with her fingertips.
“Blood!” Nion swore, fumbling with his own injector. “I am trying to help you, vringna! Stop struggling!”
“Stop struggling!” the woman spat back at him in a crude mockery of the Lunarian language. Her lips were parted, not in fear, but in something akin to a wild, maddened grin.
Blood was right. By the time Nion was able to inject his female with the sedative, a new fear was writhing within me. We could save these humans from the physical horrors that the Rutharians would inflict on them, but the mental horrors would remain for far longer than the duration of their captivity. Their rehabilitation would need more than medical intervention when we brought them back ab
oard the Avant Lupinia. They would need psychological aid too—distance from their struggle, and time to heal not just their bodies, but their minds as well.
As Ronan affixed a detonator to the lock on the final cell, he took one look inside and swore low. Through the smoke that billowed through the ruined door, I caught a glimpse of the last captive and immediately saw why.
She was crumpled on the floor, all but naked in a thin shift. Beneath it, her long, pale legs were mottled with bruises that ranged from green to purple to black. But unlike the first captive, I could not see that she was breathing. And almost worse—
A pang exploded through my chest until my heart felt filled with shrapnel. I rushed to her side, turning her over so I might look to her face more closely.
She was beautiful. Undeniably so. Her hair, pale gold that shone silken even through the tangles and knots that had been wound into it, fell across a ragged half-healed scar on her temple and a deep bruise over one eye. The soft curves of her lips, dry and cracked, were so lovely that I wished nothing more than to kiss them, like a prince in one of Bria’s fairy stories. When Bria spun those tales for Kaliope, a kiss could always break whatever awful spell had befallen the sleeping princess. For a moment, fearing her dead, I was almost so desperate to rouse her that I nearly tried it.
But then, a growl of restraint rumbled through my chest. Beautiful as this last female was, I knew better than to inflict further unwanted advances upon her. I was not a Rutharian, and this was not a fairy story. I would not dare press my lips to an unconscious female, no matter how great her beauty. And to my relief, when I pressed my fingers to her slender neck, I felt the strength of her pulse there.
She was out cold, but she was alive.
We regrouped quickly in the hall between the cells. I saw the green flash of envy in both Ronan’s and Gallix’s eyes as they too saw the beauty of the human in my arms. It made my own eyes glimmer gold for a moment of unwarranted protection and pride.