His hand slapped the control panel, raising the force barrier. “You may still face your final battle with some honor. Are there any other conspirators on the Judgment?”
Cen raised his chin, defiant and remained silent.
“So be it.”
Seeran turned to leave the room.
“Please, my mate—”
He paused, his back to the traitor but listening.
“What will come of her?”
“If she is with child, she will remain with the clan, our burden to share. Otherwise, she will be matched to another.”
The traitor’s breath labored, enraged at the thought of another male with his mate. Seeran could understand that fury but this was a hell of the traitor’s own making.
“He’s leaving me as bait, isn’t he?” Cen asked.
Seeran did not acknowledge the statement. Of course Cen was bait. The Suhlik did not tolerate failure and their informant failed spectacularly. Even now Paax boasted to the Suhlik warships on how he’d captured their agent.
“Are there others?” Seeran asked.
“Just me. I’m the only one left but I didn’t want to! Antu promised to find my mate and now... It is a lonely life. I couldn’t be alone anymore.”
“And now you have left her alone.” He was done here. The traitor had no useful information, just excuses and weak willed reasoning. He was needed on the bridge.
Hazel
THEIR QUARTERS WERE suffocating. No amount of wind chimes or recordings of evening insects chirring could ease the atmosphere. Hazel paced the length of the rooms, worry in every step. Seeran could act like this was routine, and maybe someday it would be, but for now she worried. Her husband headed into danger, into battle, and there was nothing she could do about it. She had to stay home and wait, like a good girl.
Her lip curled in disgust at the thought. She was never a good girl. She stroked the body of the gun, the cool plastic material warming to her touch. Calling it a gun was generous. It was hand held and had a grip but that’s where the similarity ended. It looked more like a grocery-store scanner than a Remmington. She tucked the non-lethal-but-formidable scanner gun into the waistband of her pants.
The door chimed.
Hazel hesitated. They couldn’t be under attack already. Seeran would not have lingered if attack was imminent but she had no idea how long it took her to find her way back to their quarters or how long she’d spent pacing.
“Hazel? It’s me,” a voice came over the speaker. Mia.
Hazel rushed to open the door before her better judgment could question if it were a trick. The halls bustled with wide-grinning warriors, each armed with an extraordinary amount of weapons. They slapped each other on the back and laughed. It was a Mahdfel holiday.
Hazel pulled Mia in, before a stray warrior could question a female wandering the halls alone on the cusp of battle. “Sit. Drink? I need a drink,” she decided. She poured herself a small tumbler of pale green wine and one for Mia. Seeran presented the wine with pride as it was from his parent’s vineyard but Hazel had no firm opinion on the merits of fine alcohol. It was booze, which was good enough.
Mia looked exhausted, like she’d had no sleep, no rest and no food. Her eyes were red and her blue-dyed hair was a frizzy mess, not her normal smooth coif.
She handed the glass to Mia. “It’s strong so be careful—”
Mia drained it in one go, coughing. “Do you know what’s going on? No one will talk to me.”
“They’re going on a mission. Apparently this was in the works for a while.”
“So not a Suhlik attack?” Mia tilted the glass back to catch any remaining drops.
“Seeran didn’t tell me much,” she confessed. Mia frowned when she said his name. “He made me promise to stay in our rooms but he gave me this.” Hazel took out the pistol and set it down on the table.
Mia eyed the gun with curiosity but seemed more interested in Hazel’s glass. With a sigh, she handed it to her friend. She didn’t really like the swallowed-fire feel of the booze, anyway Mia needed it more than she did.
“So they’re going on an away mission or something? They’re all carrying these really big guns and they’re excited, like it’s Christmas.”
“It’s a raid on a Suhlik facility. That’s all I know.”
Mia downed the rest of the wine, but this time with more self-control. She took two gulps, not just one. Clearly a wine aficionado.
“I found him,” Hazel said.
Mia’s eyes gleamed with hope but her expression grew grim, preparing herself for the worst. “And? Don’t leave me hanging.”
“He’s in the brig, alive.”
Mia sighed, shoulders sagging with relief. “Thank the stars. Did you talk to him? Did they say what was going to happen to him?”
Hazel didn’t know how to explain it. Mia shouldn’t hope for... hope. Cen was a traitor and the Mahdfel had one very effective and brutal means of dealing with traitors.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Mia snapped. “I know he’s not perfect but he’s my husband.”
“Mia—”
“He’s sweet. He is. And I like him and I don’t care what he did, what they,” she said with a sneer, “claim he did. I don’t want to lose him.” Then, in a smaller voice, “Not yet. I don’t care if he’s a traitor. I don’t.”
“He’ll be safe in the brig,” Hazel said. “It has to be the safest spot on the ship.”
Mia grabbed Hazel’s wrist. “They’re coming for him. He’s all alone.”
“He’s in a detainment cell.”
“Exactly! Alone! With no weapon.”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “Who do you think is coming for him?”
“The Suhlik.”
“No way. There is no way the Suhlik is boarding this ship. It’d be suicide.”
“Do you think they care about that? Cen was their informant and he’s been captured. You know what they do to their own that’s been captured.”
Hazel remembered Seeran’s words. “They destroy them.”
“Yes,” Mia hissed. “So while all the warriors are out enjoying their Christmas murdering things, they’ll send a small team and kill my husband and no one cares. They left him alone on purpose!”
“We don’t know that.”
“We do. You were there. How many warriors are in the brig?”
“None,” Hazel said, thinking back to the oddly empty corridor.
“The warlord wants the Suhlik to take care of his problem.”
“No. He’s waiting—” For what, she didn’t know. Seeran didn’t really talk about his work or the going on of the clan. He just gave her a broad warning to stay away from Cen because he was a traitor. He didn’t go into the details.
“Cen’s a sitting duck is what he is. We have to help him.”
“How?” Hazel had zero combat skills. She exaggerated her ability to fire a pistol.
“We give him that,” Mia said, eyeballing the gun.
“No way.”
“He’s defenseless! If he had something, it’d be... something.” Her face crumpled into a sob, face red and blotchy.
It was a hard thing to listen to a friend sob. Harder still to remain firm and say no. Hazel couldn’t say no. “How would we even get the gun to him?”
Mia perked up, wiping at her eyes. “You got in the brig once before. We do that again.”
“I brought lunch to Seeran,” Hazel said. She didn’t have clearance or anything but all the doors opened automatically. No one let her in. In fact, all the warriors left when they saw her coming. She must have clearance of some sort, maybe a special mate pass to let her visit her husband wherever he was. Or at his office.
“I’m not sure the doors will open for me,” she said. “But we can try.”
Seeran
“HOW KIND OF YOU TO join us,” Paax barked. “Have we made our guest as comfortable as possible?”
“Sir, he is trussed and nervous.”
The warlord gave
a brief nod to indicate his approval as Seeran took his station. Paax’s attention focused on the rest of his officers. “Jaxar, Rohn, tell me we’re ready to fly.”
The chief engineer replied over the comm, “It’s not pretty but it’ll fly.”
“Rohn,” Paax said, prompting his flight deck chief. “Can you fly that monstrosity.”
“With verve and aplomb.”
“I’m not interested in verve. I’m interested in a collision.”
Ah. That was the warlord’s plan. Seeran directed his attention to the weapons array and the sensors. Paax wanted the Judgment to be boarded. One, to let the Suhlik take care of the traitor. Two, to let the warriors have the joy of battle. The entire population of the two Suhlik warships could not outnumber the Mahdfel. To board the Judgment would be walk into a slaughter, but Seeran fully expected the Suhlik to do just that.
Mylomon stood to one side, his arms folded across his chest. “Are you certain we should destroy the Suhlik research facility? We have had considerable trouble just with the journey. To not go to the surface seems foolish.” Only Mylomon could question the warlord in such harsh terms and not expect a violent reprimand. Questioning the warlord was his primary duty as the second-in-command.
“Thanks to our trussed up acquaintance in the brig, they’re expecting our arrival and have had ample time to destroy anything of interest.” The warlord almost sounded regretful as he stared at the images of the facility on the screen. A scientist by training, a sneak peek into Suhlik advances had to be temptation incarnate. That research facility was everything Paax desired, answers and secrets, and it was a juicy prize. Too juicy a prize.
This time though, the trap was obvious. Next time, the Suhlik would be more cunning.
Paax turned away from the screen. “Destroy it.”
No warriors on the planet’s surface meant that combat would be conducted through artillery, pilots, and raiding ship to ship.
“Rohn, now would be a good time for our pilots to harry the enemy,” Paax said before turning to the helmsman. “Darian, give them support. I’m not in the mood to give quarter.”
The Suhlik ship the clan had acquired in the last skirmish detached from the belly of the Judgment.
“Smooth as my illustrious mane,” Rohn said over the comm. He piloted the warship remotely thanks to Jaxar’s modifications. “It seems a shame to ruin such a vessel.”
“Are you going sentimental on me? I’ll have you replaced,” Paax said, his tone not nearly as annoyed as his words implied.
“With who? I’m your best pilot.”
“Where are my pilots?”
A new voice came over the comms. “Scrambling now, sir.”
“Sir, a warship is approaching,” Seeran said before rattling off the distance. “They should be able to board in five minutes.”
Paax gestured to Zadran at the weapon’s array. “I want them to board but make it interesting for them.”
“Sir,” Zadran replied smartly, blasting off a warning burst.
Paax made a ship wide announcement. The arrival of the enemy was imminent. All warriors should be prepared to resist and all females should be in safe rooms.
“Sir, the second warship is moving closer,” Darian announced.
“Mylomon,” the warlord said, his eyes on the screen, “join our raiding parties. The warriors find you inspiring.”
The dark male huffed. The average warrior did not find Mylomon inspiring. Seeran, himself, who had worked closely with the male for years, was unnerved by the quiet, former assassin. “As you will.”
“Rohn, I want an explosion.” The captured Suhlik warship entered the planet’s atmosphere.
“Target set. It seems a shame to let this bird fall out of the sky but here we go,” Rohn said. On the screen the ship angled dramatically down, plunging to the ground. A dark speck on the ground grew larger, turning into the vague shape of a building and finally into a cluster of buildings. “It’s fighting me. The safety protocols just don't want to fly into a planet, sir.”
“I refuse to believe the Suhlik have safety protocols,” Jaxar said with a snort. “Don’t choke the engines.”
“I am not choking the engines, you gear-headed ninny,” Rohn growled.
Seeran had difficulty believing the two males disliked each other. They spent so much time sniping and snarling that they had to have forged a friendship, yet each male claimed to detest the other.
“Better than an empty-headed pilot.”
“Just because you’re too weak blooded to leave your engines—”
“Enough!” the warlord shouted just as the ship made impact with the research facility.
The ship crumpled like a thin piece of metal, flattening from the nose to the tail in an instant. For a moment, Seeran didn’t know where the debris went. It just vanished, then a silent explosion flared. The screen went orange and then white before settling into static.
A proximity alarm sounded on his console. The Suhlik had made contact with the Judgment and were now attaching a tether. “We have contact, sir.”
“Assemble your team and welcome our guests.”
Seeran sent a command to his team. He would join them momentarily.
Chapter Eighteen
Hazel
This was stupid. Beyond stupid.
Flashing red lights illuminated the battle cruiser’s corridor like an all-too-real house of horrors. Hazel kept to the smaller corridors, ducking into doorways to avoid attention. The last thing she and Mia needed was to attract the attention of a curious warrior. She’d be back in her quarters, under lock and key, no doubt, and Mia would continue to worry.
The doors to the brig were sealed. “We go in, give him the gun, and we leave,” Hazel said. If the door opened.
Mia nodded.
The doors did open. Of course they did. No going back to her quarters meekly to wait out the battle. Her clearance must have included access to Seeran’s workplace.
The brig was empty of warriors. The wall of weapons was mostly depleted. A few bulky, heavy rocket-launcher looking things remained. Not good for hand-to-hand, a memory helpfully supplied.
“Cen!” Mia dashed across the room to the cell containing her husband.
Cen gave Hazel the same blank, accusing stare he gave her earlier, but his eyes softened when he focused on Mia. His arms were behind his back, bound. He contorted his shoulders and with a grunt, slipped free of the cuffs.
He held a hand up to the barrier but did not touch. Mia mimicked his gesture, their hands hovering less than inch on either side of an electric blue force field. “You should not be here, dearest one.”
“No one would tell me where you were. I had to see you.”
“It is not safe. Not now.”
Mia shook her head. “I had to do something. To give you this.” She held out the gun like a precious bauble.
Cen knitted his brows and looked at the device in confusion. “Who gave you this? You must return it before they discover you stole it.”
“I didn’t steal it,” Mia started.
“It’s mine,” Hazel said. “We’re going to give this to you and then we’ll go back to my quarters.” She turned to Mia. “Like we agreed.”
The control panel made no sense. The translator chip worked on written language but the actual commands made little sense. Vent waste. Magnetic clamps. Clamps? She needed to lower the barrier, not clamp or vent waste. Frustrated, she hit a random sequence of buttons. Tones sounded in discord, indicating an incorrect sequence. She tried again. More tones, but in harmony.
The barrier lowered.
Mia rushed to Cen, arms tight around each other. He breathed her in deep, his arms tightening just a bit more like a man who thought to never hold his wife again. Whatever Hazel thought about Cen, traitor or not, there was no doubt he cared for his wife. Loved. He loved his wife.
An alarm sounded, angry and shrill. Whatever the flashing red lights meant, this was one level beyond.
“Take thi
s,” Hazel said, shoving the little gun toward him.
He shook his head. “Keep it. I’ll requisition these.” He began to move the remaining weapons from the wall to a pile on the floor. He turned a table on its side to make a barricade. “You should return to your quarters now,” he commanded.
“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Mia said, her hands stubbornly on her hips.
“You swore!” Hazel shouted.
“It’s too late,” Mia said, her voice unreasonably calm. “Something bad has already happened and it’s better to stay together, right? And Cen has all the weapons.”
She was delusional. Her only friend was off her rocker. “There’s a safe room in my quarters,” Hazel said. “If we hurry, we can get there and lock ourselves in, safe and snug as a bug in a rug.” Her cajoling did not convince Mia.
“We do not have time for this,” Cen growled. He shoved the women into the cell. With a slap, the barrier was erected.
“Wait! Cen, no!” Mia pounded a fist against the barrier. A sharp pop and a burst of light and she was tossed to the floor, cradling her hand to her chest.
“You will be safe here.” He gave Mia a look before turning away, hoisting the rifle to his shoulder. He aimed at the control panel and it exploded in a cloud of plastic and burnt wires.
Not good. So not good.
Cen kicked over a table. He crouched behind, aiming at the door.
The first Suhlik appeared, golden skinned and all teeth. A line of suppressing fire momentarily sent the Suhlik back. He ground out a threat in a low hiss, too low for her translator to pick up, and returned fire. Whatever he said, the meaning was clear.
“How’s your hand?” Hazel crouched down next to Mia, who still cradled the hand. She moved it slowly, revealing bright pink, burned flesh.
“It doesn’t hurt. Is it bad?”
Yet. It’d hurt like a rotten tooth in the morning. Or, you know, like a badly burned and blistering hand. “They’ll patch it right up in the med bay. They have this salve, it made my bruises disappear overnight. Amazing stuff.”
“I don’t want to look,” Mia said. She wrapped her arms around Hazel in a bear hug and buried her face. “Don’t tell me but tell me.”
Seeran: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 6) Page 15