by Anna Carven
She gasped.
He was whole again. The smooth silver skin of his face was intact. He had lips again. His elegant nose was perfectly formed. Long, beautiful lashes framed his eyes.
Arin was reminded of an angel, except this one dealt swift, bloody death.
Black nanites writhed under his skin like swarms of minuscule ants, occasionally coming to the surface to repair some unseen wound before disappearing again. Those impossible nano-particles had rebuilt Rykal from the inside out, remaking him in his own image.
He took her hands into his, his touch impossibly gentle. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Arin up into a sitting position. She swiveled, swinging her legs over the side of the bench so that she was facing him.
“What for?” She brought her hand up to caress the side of his face, not quite believing he was real. He was naked before her, but he wasn’t at all bothered by it.
“For not being able to get you out of here sooner. They should never have been allowed to touch you.” His eyes burned with the heat of a thousand suns as he took her hands into his.
“It could have been a lot worse.” Arin shuddered at the memory of that asshole straddling her. Another image flashed through her mind; she’d been younger then, an idealistic, fresh-faced officer, and the man who’d tried to rape her had been in a position of unassailable authority.
She hadn’t allowed him to go there. Her fists were strong, and she’d used them. But there had been a price to her defiance, and her promising career as an officer had been cut short.
They’d dispatched her to the shittiest backwater of the galaxy; a mining station full of misfits and criminals called Fortuna Tau. It was a dumping ground for soldiers who’d fallen out of favor or stepped on the wrong toes, and she hadn’t been expected to last a month.
But she’d survived and flourished. Her promotion to sergeant had taken everyone by surprise.
She was strong. She’d always been a survivor. So why couldn’t she stop fucking trembling?
Rykal’s tenderness was tugging at her heart. “Never again,” he whispered fiercely, twining his fingers between hers.
Arin stroked his cheek. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she said. “You have no idea. I don’t know how your body does what it does, but you’re incredible.”
He’d healed so quickly. Kordolian technology was so far advanced it could have been magic for all she knew.
“Hm.” Rykal’s ears twitched as he inclined his head, his amber gaze turning hard as it flicked towards the door. “We’re about to have company.” He placed his hands on her waist and helped her slide off the table. The floor was cold underneath Arin’s bare feet. “You are in no way dressed or equipped to handle a fight.”
“This thing is somewhat skimpy.” The white medical gown reached to about mid-thigh. Her fingers itched for a trigger. If only she had a bolt-gun, she’d feel a whole lot better.
The guards she’d seen stalking around the bridge had guns. Now that she was considered fully expendable, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her.
“I am very sorry, my ashika, but I’m going to have to ask you to go into that back room, the one where I was held. They’re going to come through here first, and I can’t have you getting caught in the crossfire. I get the feeling they will shoot to kill.”
“Stop apologizing, Rykal.” Arin said. “I’m a soldier too, remember? From a tactical perspective, it makes perfect sense.” She didn’t want to do anything that would undermine him. She didn’t want to end up a hostage, and she didn’t want to be a liability. He was right. Without weapons or armor, she was in no condition to fight.
Rykal nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m apologizing because of the mess I made. Please try not to look at the mess on the floor, but do stay below the window line.”
Sharp black half-inch claws had appeared at the ends of Rykal’s fingertips. Arin’s eyes widened. Pretty-boy was full of surprises.
She stared at him in shock for a split-second, then the doors slid open and she ran, ducking behind a patch of wall as Rykal prepared to fight.
Try not to look at the mess on the floor.
She couldn’t help it.
She was surrounded by bodies. Blood was everywhere. The dead guy slumped closest to her was by far the worst; there was a gaping hole in his chest. It looked like he’d had his freaking heart ripped out.
Arin stiffened, the shock of recognition shooting through her like a jolt of electricity. She knew the guy. He was the one who’d been on top of her, who’d touched her as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat.
Had Rykal known?
She shuddered as she crouched down and made her way across the floor, trying not to be seen as she searched for a clean place to hide. Arin forced herself to get back into the mindset of a soldier as she glanced around, searching for a weapon.
In the next room, the sounds of violence were rising to a bloody crescendo. Shots from bolt-guns punctuated the air, and one hit the glass window above her, cracking it. Of course, it didn’t shatter like old-fashioned glass, because it was made of an ultra-strong polymer, but the powerful hit of concentrated electricity was enough to create a network of fine cracks across its clear surface.
Shouts and curses rang out in-between grunts and screams. Rykal didn’t make a single noise, but occasionally, there was a crunch, a thud, or a squelch, and then the sound of bodies hitting the floor.
As if in answer to her prayers, a bolt-rifle skidded through the open doors, coming to a stop by her side.
Arin picked it up, checked the charge, then crept up to the edge of the door, where a narrow strip of wall protected her from sight and fire.
She peeked around the corner and quickly withdrew her head as a blast shot past and struck the metal bench in the center of the room, sending it careening off into a trolley of medical equipment.
Once again she chanced a look. This time she saw Rykal fending off two attackers. One of the guards charged him from the front, the other took the back, aiming his bolt-rifle at Rykal’s head.
Rykal was fighting naked, and he’d taken hits. There were rapidly healing burn marks all over his body, and he wasn’t moving as quickly as was usual for him.
Perhaps he hadn’t yet recovered enough to be able to summon his full armor-suit. After all, the guy had just been hit with four nuclear missiles.
Arin raised her rifle and squeezed off a shot. It hit Rykal’s rear attacker in the back, and he collapsed to the ground.
Rykal managed to shoot her a grateful glance just before he took on the other guard, sustaining a point-blank shot in the chest as he grabbed the guard with his bare hands.
Rykal slashed his neck with his claws, and the guard went down in a spray of crimson.
And then, silence.
Just like that, it was over. It had all happened so quickly. Arin looked around the corner then ran to Rykal as he dropped to his knees, his chest heaving.
His hands were coated in blood, but as Arin watched, the strangest thing happened. Swarms of black nanites rose to the surface of his skin and absorbed the blood, leaving not a single trace of it.
She shrugged. The bizarre sight didn’t bother her. Nothing much could shock her anymore, not after what she’d seen and done. As for the Humans who had just gone down? They were definitely the enemy.
Rykal wasn’t her enemy. Never. Kneeling amongst the death and destruction he’d wrought, he looked up at her, and his gaze softened. His expression became tender as he reached out to her, his hands now smooth and clean, his sharp obsidian claws retracted.
“You protected me?” he murmured, a boyish smile gracing his dark lips.
“Just returning the favor,” Arin said, marveling at how good it felt to stand before him, even in the midst of all this carnage. He was the calm after the storm, even though he was the storm, the tempest, and the fucking hurricane.
Rykal’s smile faded. Disquiet flickered across his face, and his golden eyes narrowed.
He gasped and looked down, a strangled sound of pain escaping his lips. “I…”
“Rykal?” Arin stepped closer, threading her fingers through his silken hair. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I…” For some reason, he refused to look at her, his voice cracking as he bowed his head. “I remember everything.”
Arin heard pain and confusion in his tone. Rykal dropped his head into his hands, shaking it over and over again.
And Arin realized he was having the mother of all flashbacks.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Images flooded his mind. He was here with Arin, surrounded by dead Humans, with her gentle fingers threading through his hair, but he was also back out on the Vaal, with his people.
He was Rykal Sarakunin, of the Aikun tribe, and he’d been stolen.
He’d loved to hunt. Amongst the boys his age, he’d been one of the fastest and most agile, fearlessly slipping into the frigid black depths of the Sleeping Ocean to hunt lamperk when all the other children had been too afraid.
He’d been wild, and he’d been free.
He’d been an expert at catching the vicious winged kuthlek, which were particularly delicious when roasted, and he’d known how to skillfully avoid the venomous fangs of a female targuk.
His hair had grown long and wild, and his mother had taken great pleasure in fashioning it into intricate braids.
And when the hunt had been over, he would retreat to his cozy nook inside the network of caves that ran deep underneath the black mountain, nestling in the furs of a giant szkazajik he’d slain. His mother would sing him songs in the Old Tongue, ancient reminders of a time when the Great Star had shone upon their land, the skies had been colored blue, and the ice they walked upon now had been water.
Mother. He remembered her name, but it was too painful for him to even think it. Her name was sacred.
He’d lost her that day, when Imperial Forces had raided Sennara, the Black Mountain, and stolen Rykal and his age-mates.
They’d been shipped off to the planet Xar, and out of the thousands who had been sent there, only ten had survived.
The First Division.
The Empire had created ten perfect soldiers, but it had cost the blood of thousands.
They had stolen their memories. At first, their loyalty had been to the Empire, and they had been the perfect tools, finely honed and vicious in every way.
But slowly, their personalities had emerged, fragments of memory had returned, and they had all decided their true loyalties lay with the General, especially once Emperor Ilhan descended into madness.
The Empire had forged ten perfect weapons, but the weapons were strongest when they worked together, and the Empire didn’t exactly wield them anymore.
Rykal decided there and then that he would no longer serve the Empire. He would not be a tool of the mad Empress and her corruption. He was loyal only to his General, his brothers, and now, his mate.
To her above all others.
“Rykal,” Arin whispered, stroking his hair as he leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her slender waist, pressing his cheek against her belly, “it’s okay.”
“Yeah.” He placed his hand over hers, closing his eyes. Something must have happened to his brain as the nanites inside his body furiously tried to protect and repair it after the blast. His memories had come back all at once, undoing all the Empire’s work.
It would take him a long time to dissect and fully understand those stolen memories, and even longer to piece them together correctly, but it didn’t matter.
He had her now, a mate to fill the void within him. He didn’t care that they were from different worlds. He didn’t care that the Empire was the enemy of her people.
She made him complete again, and his loyalty was with her now, above all else.
Chapter Thirty
Rykal was fully recovered now, and Arin was fully dressed. They’d found her clothes in an empty waste bag, and she’d wasted no time dressing herself and picking select weapons off the dead guards until she was armed with a decent arsenal of bolt-guns of varying sizes.
Rykal’s nanites had recharged enough for him to be able to ‘form’ his armor again, but he’d needed to do something to get to that point.
What exactly that thing was, she wasn’t sure, because he’d asked her to step out of the room for a moment. His voice had been subdued and his eyes had been downcast, as if he were suddenly self-conscious.
When he’d emerged, his muscular form had been encased in his customary suit of exo-armor again, and Arin had given him a short, sharp shrug, as if to say: don’t worry about it.
She suspected that whatever he’d done to ‘regenerate’ so quickly had something to do with the bodies on the floor, but he hadn’t wanted to share, and she hadn’t wanted to know, so she’d let it drop.
Together, they stalked down the dim corridors of the nameless surveillance ship, searching for a way out. Rykal had no weapons. Arin had offered him a bolt-gun, but he’d sniffed disdainfully at the weapon, muttering something about inferior Human technology.
And for some reason, that had made her laugh, granting them a moment of levity in such grim circumstances.
The lower decks of the ship were strangely deserted. The subdued agents who had been monitoring all kinds of surveillance equipment had disappeared, and there was no trace of either E1 or E2.
Arin wasn’t sure how many Rykal had killed, but it had to be close to half the guards onboard the ship.
So where were the others?
“They think they can ambush us,” Rykal whispered as they entered the bridge. Even the navigators had disappeared, leaving the ship to be manned by its AI. “Don’t worry. I will kill all of them.”
“Don’t,” Arin said, giving him a stern look. “Do what you need to do, but don’t kill people who are defenseless. Not everyone onboard this ship is a soldier. They might be doing weird, fucked up shit up here, but they think they’re doing it for the good of their race. For my race. They think they’re doing the right thing. I’m sure you of all people can understand that.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “I will try, but I can’t promise anything. Sometimes things just happen.”
“Don’t they just,” Arin said dryly as they passed through the bridge and down a narrow corridor. The corridor ended, widening into a small docking area where the only way out was beyond the thick metal walls of the ship, into space. The surveillance cruiser wasn’t huge, and its docking area was only big enough for things like small escape vessels, mobile airlocks, and maintenance craft. There were weird looking things in here too, mysterious objects that could have been satellites or sophisticated spy equipment. To one side sat an array of escape pods, housing just enough seats to fit all the crew.
“Where the hell have they gone?” Arin shook her head, astounded that the entire crew of a ship could just disappear like that.
“Shh.” Rykal held up a hand, his ears twitching. “They are tracking us.”
“They?”
“Human soldiers. I can hear their footsteps. They all walk a certain way, even you. But unlike them, the way you walk is special. Sexy.”
“Oh.” Well, that was nice to know. Rykal had been analyzing her walking patterns. What else had he observed about her?
“They think to trap us here.” He smiled coldly. “Stay here and keep your guns ready. I’ll hold the corridor. They won’t get past me, but be ready just in case.”
Arin nodded as Rykal disappeared down the corridor. All the while, she thought they’d been walking around the ship blindly, but now she realized he’d been looking for a place such as this; a narrow, difficult place where he could pick his opponents off one-by-one and keep her safe at the same time.
Perhaps, with his uncanny hearing, he’d known where they were the whole time.
It was good to have a Kordolian at one’s side, even if he’d lost all his Callidum weapons. He still had his arm
or and his fists, and for these particular opponents, that was enough.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rykal fought like a whirlwind as Arin held her position, listening carefully for any signs his guard had been breached.
But nobody got past him.
When the dust had settled and the noise had died down, she found the corridor littered with bodies. That was nothing new, considering it was Rykal she was with.
Not a single soldier had been able to reach her. In the end, all Arin had to do was wait.
Rykal returned to her appearing casual and relaxed, the whole incident barely taxing him. The terrible truth, as Arin had rightly suspected, was that Humans were no match for a First Division warrior. He didn’t even have weapons on him and he’d dispatched them so easily. “I think I’m going to claim this ship in the name of the First Division. It has weapons, unlike the Arawen. It will do for now.”
“You can’t just…” claim a Federation surveillance cruiser, Arin was going to say, but she held her tongue. Rykal could. The Kordolians could. They took what they wanted and made no apologies.
“Let us go back to the bridge and try make contact with my brothers. My comm device was destroyed during the blast, and if they don’t hear from me soon, they might just declare war on Humans.” His words sent a chill through Arin, but a half-crooked smile graced his features.
“You shouldn’t joke about things like that,” she grumbled as they reached the bridge. It was still deserted, and even though Rykal had killed a whole squad of guards, the other crew were nowhere to be found.
Perhaps they’d locked themselves in a safe room somewhere. It didn’t matter. Rykal was with her. None of them could touch her.
Arin spotted a comm station and brought up a list of all vessels within range. The Arawen was one of the first on the list.
“Arawen, this is the, uh…” She didn’t know the name of this vessel.