Broken Dawn (Immortal Guardians Book 10)

by Dianne Duvall

  A moment of silence followed.

  “I hope they all are, Eliana.”

  She liked the way he said her name.

  “You’re very brave.”

  A wry smile twisted her lips as she stared through the helmet’s visor. “I don’t feel very brave at the moment.” She was actually scared shitless.

  One of the other men spoke softly.

  Though she couldn’t understand what Dagon bit out next, the way he delivered it sounded suspiciously like a curse word.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “We are having difficulty calculating how far away you are.”

  He sounded grim as hell. And she was going to go out on a limb and guess he didn’t lie very often, because she had no difficulty determining he was doing so now.

  “Bullshit. You’ve already calculated it. I can hear it in your voice. How long will it take you to reach me?”

  “We will reach you as quickly as we can.”

  “What’s your name again?” she asked.

  “Commander Dagon.”

  “How long will it take you to reach me, Dagon?” Her heart pounded with dread as she awaited his response.

  “You are farther away than we anticipated.”

  Don’t panic, damn it. “How much farther? I can stretch the oxygen and make it last.”

  “No, you can’t,” he replied, his voice soft with sorrow.

  “I can,” she insisted. “I can slow my heart rate, slow my metabolism, and slow my breathing so I consume less oxygen. I can do it.” Ordinary humans could not. But Immortal Guardians could, thanks to the symbiotic virus that infected them. She could actually slow her breathing and heart rate to such an extent that doctors would declare her dead.

  “Lasarans sent us detailed information on Earthling anatomy so we would be able to render medical aid to any we found,” he countered. “That information did not indicate that Earthlings are capable of such.”

  She swore silently. “I know. But not all Earthlings are alike. I’m different. I’m stronger. And I need you to trust me on this, okay? How long does the oxygen have to last for you to make it here?” She could do this. She would do this.

  A sigh carried across the line. “It will take us one of your Earth months to reach you.”

  All breath left her lungs. “A month?” she repeated, head spinning with sudden dizziness.

  His voice was full of regret when he answered. “Yes.”

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them back. “Well… damn. That’s a long time.” Too long. Even she couldn’t make twenty-six hours of oxygen last thirty days.

  Could she?

  “We are contacting other members of the alliance to see if any of their ships are closer to you.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Her mind worked furiously. “In the meantime, would you maybe head my way and see if any of my friends or the Lasarans are somewhere between us? If I survived the attack in a suit, then some of those escape pods had to have made it, too, and they might be closer to you.”

  “We are already on our way to you and are traveling at top speed.”

  “Thank you.” Even at top speed, they were still a month away. “How long can they survive in one of those pods?”

  “The pods have enough oxygen and rations to sustain life for…” He muttered something in his language. “For two of your Earth months.”

  Relief rushed through her. “Good.”

  “They were designed in such a way to provide those inside with adequate time to either reach their chosen destination or locate a habitable planet on which they can seek shelter.”

  “My friends can’t do that. They don’t know how to pilot those things.” The Lasarans had only schooled them on how to activate the distress call beacon, obtain enough rations to keep them alive, and how to use the weird space toilet inside it.

  “As soon as we lock onto their beacon, one of my men can remote pilot the pods for them. The Lasarans have given us the override codes.”

  “Good.” At least they would have a fighting chance.

  Dagon fell silent once more. Every once in a while, she could hear him speak softly to the men on what she assumed was the bridge of his ship.

  Fear kept trying to creep in and choke her. Eliana steadfastly pushed it back and turned her mind toward finding her friends.

  A thought occurred to her. “Will talking to me keep you from receiving incoming communications from someone else or detecting distress beacons?” Though she had spent four months aboard the Lasaran ship, she still knew little about how one operated.

  “No. My communications officer can continue to search for the others while we speak.”

  “Who is your comms officer?” she asked curiously.

  “Janek.”

  “Can the other people on your bridge hear us talking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hey, Janek?” she called.

  All background conversation ceased.

  “Yes, Earthling?”

  Despite the gravity of her situation, she laughed… then wished she hadn’t when the pain in her side multiplied. “Being called Earthling is just too weird. Call me Eliana.”

  A pause ensued. “Yes, Eliana?”

  “Were you the one who spoke to me before Dagon did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for waking me.”

  Another pause. “You are welcome, Eliana.”

  “No matter what happens to me, please keep searching for my friends, okay? You all seem like good guys. So if I can’t save them, I want you to.”

  “I am searching for them now,” he assured her.

  “Thank you.”

  Eliana stared at the stars. She had twenty-six hours of oxygen, and Dagon’s ship was a month away.

  Correction. She had a little less than twenty-six hours of oxygen since she had been speaking to them for several minutes. “Dagon?”

  “Yes?” he responded instantly.

  “I’m going to try to slow my heart rate and sleep for a bit. Would you please keep the comms link open so I can hear you?” She was more afraid than she was letting on and didn’t want to lose the connection to them even for a second, terrified she might not get it back. “You don’t have to speak English or anything. I just…” Tears threatened once more, but she kept them from altering her voice. “It’s never quiet where I’m from.” Especially since she had preternaturally sharp hearing. “And I’m guessing deep space is completely silent.” The last thing she needed was for that silence to close in and make her feel more alone.

  “We will keep communications open,” he agreed.

  He had a nice voice. A very telling voice. She didn’t have to see him to know that his inability to save her upset him.

  “Thank you.”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind and block out the pain. The latter was pretty damn difficult. The peculiar symbiotic virus that infected her was healing what damage it could. The bleeding slowed. One broken rib slowly shifted back into position in torturously small increments.

  Eliana listened to the activity on Dagon’s ship.

  Her breathing slowed.

  Her heart rate decreased.

  And consciousness gradually slipped away.

  Dagon stood in the center of a circular room. The only furniture in it was a padded bench that hugged the wall all the way around. Breath slow, he waited… and tried once more to turn his mind away from the Earth woman he had failed to save.

  A flicker of movement drew his eyes to one side. The wall to his right seemed to shimmer faintly. Spinning, Dagon struck out with his sword and hit metal where there appeared to be none.

  A curse filled the air, not his own.

  He swung his weapon again and again, each time striking his invisible target. He straightened his free arm. The armor protecting it elongated into a chain that slipped down through his fingers and formed
a heavy metal ball on the end. In battle, the ball would be covered in spikes. But now it was smooth.

  He swung his sword, then spun and let the ball fly in an arc.

  His target grunted when the ball hit.

  Barus flickered into view as his camouflage failed. Bending forward, he breathed heavily through his mouth. “I’m glad you didn’t hit me any lower with that.”

  Dagon tried but could find no smile. The ball and chain retracted, morphing into the armor on his forearm. Crossing to the low bench that circled the room, he picked up the scabbard and slid his sword home.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Barus said behind him.

  His words did little to ease Dagon’s troubled spirit. “I am aware.”

  “The Earth woman was too far away.”

  And she had died alone.

  Three days had passed since he had spoken to her. Her oxygen supply had long since run out. But she had not made a single sound. She had wept no tears. She had not begged them to come faster. She had not gasped or struggled to find her last breath. She had simply… slipped away.

  Every man on the bridge had grown more tense as that twenty-sixth hour had approached. Though the comms that linked them remained open, they had heard nothing from her since she had told him she was going to sleep for a bit.

  No other ships had been closer.

  None could have saved her.

  “Take comfort,” his friend and second-in-command said gently, “in knowing she must have died of her wounds in her sleep. It was the most merciful death she could have found in her situation.”

  Dagon nodded, knowing it was true. He also took comfort in knowing that if she had died in her sleep, then she had died unafraid. “She was not what I expected of an Earthling.”

  Barus nodded. “The Sectas described them as a primitive, warring society full of people quick to hate anyone who was different. The fact that they captured and tortured the Lasaran princess confirmed that.”

  “And yet Eliana risked her life to save countless Lasaran men and women.” Dagon had spoken with Tiran, commander of the Lasaran ship Tarakona. The two of them had become friends after being brought together in the biannual war games conducted to train Lasarans, Yona, Segonians, and additional alliance forces to fight together in battle against the Gathendiens and other enemies. According to Tiran, some Lasaran escape pods had been recovered. And many of the Lasarans inside them had credited Eliana with getting them there swiftly and saving their lives. “She was very brave.”

  “And did not deserve the fate dealt her,” Barus agreed. He had not been present on the bridge when they made contact with Eliana, so Dagon had replayed their conversation for him.

  A click sounded in Dagon’s earpiece.

  “Commander Dagon,” Janek said, voice tense, “your presence is requested on the bridge.”

  Dagon tapped the earpiece. “What is it?”

  “I believe I’ve picked up something on comms.”

  Dagon glanced at Barus. “You’ve located one of the pods?”

  “No, sir. I think…”

  Dagon waited. Janek was not usually one to mince words. “Janek?”

  “I think it’s the Earth woman. I think Eliana may still be alive.”

  His heart jumping in his chest, Dagon swiftly turned and strode out of the training room.

  Eliana? Still alive? Impossible.

  And yet his steps steadily increased until he was jogging toward the lift, Barus right on his heels.

  Moments later, he strode onto the bridge and speared Janek with a look. “Explain.”

  Janek looked up from his station. He cast the other crew members on the bridge a quick look.

  All were silent, their faces solemn.

  Janek’s lips tightened. “I wanted to believe her,” he admitted. “When she said she could slow her heart rate and make the oxygen last longer, I wanted to believe her. So I left the comm line with her open and…”

  “And what?” Dagon prodded impatiently.

  Janek hesitated, as though fearing all would doubt him. “I think I heard a moan.”

  Barus shook his head. “That’s not possible.”

  Janek ignored him and speared Dagon with a look. “I know I heard something.”

  Dagon strode toward his seat. “Let me hear it.”

  Everyone remained silent as they all listened carefully.

  Dagon strained to detect even the slightest rustle of her suit, the sound of a soft breath, anything… but heard nothing. “Eliana,” he called.

  No response came.

  Janek shook his head. “I know I heard something.”

  Dagon trusted him. “Eliana,” he said louder.

  A sigh carried across the line.

  “Max?” Eliana mumbled.

  His breath caught.

  “I was having the worst dream,” she complained groggily.

  Murmurings erupted among his crew.

  Dagon’s heart began to slam against his ribs. How was this possible? “Eliana?”

  She emitted a sharp grunt of pain, then—sounding much more alert—said, “Ah hell, it wasn’t a dream. That sucks!”

  He shared an astonished look with Barus.

  “Dagon?” she said. “Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for leaving the line open. How long was I out?”

  “Three days.”

  “Damn. I had hoped I’d sleep longer than that.”

  “My apologies. I woke you. We hadn’t heard from you in a long time.”

  “And you thought I was dead?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  When next she spoke, her tone conveyed a smile. “I told you I could make the oxygen last longer. How much do I have left?”

  “Press the blue button on your sleeve again.”

  A female voice speaking Lasaran announced, “Fifteen hours and forty-two minutes of oxygen remaining.”

  Barus shook his head. “How did she make ten hours of oxygen last three days?” he asked in Segonian.

  Dagon shook his head.

  “What did she say?” Eliana asked.

  “You have fifteen hours and forty-two minutes of oxygen left.”

  “Damn. So I’ve already used up almost half of what I had?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t suppose you found any allies who were close enough to swing by and pick me up, did you?”

  “No. All were farther away than we are.”

  “Are you still headed my way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you found any other survivors?”

  “No. But the Lasarans have recovered several escape pods.”

  “Were any of my people rescued?” she asked, hope brightening her voice.

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “But we are all still searching.”

  “Thank you.” She had a nice voice, deep for a woman and a little husky from sleep. He didn’t like hearing the disappointment that darkened it now. “What about the Yona? Has anyone found any of them yet? I know those guys look and act as though nothing ruffles their feathers, but I’m sure they don’t want to die out here either.”

  “No Yona soldiers have been rescued yet.” He opted not to tell her that the bodies of several had been drifting in space near some wreckage found by his fellow Segonians. The soldiers had done what they were trained to do—they had remained on the ship, fighting until the last minute, and died when the ship was blasted apart.

  “That sucks.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think my translator is accurately defining the word suck.”

  She laughed, a happy sound that made his lips twitch until she grunted in pain again. “I was wondering how you were speaking English to me. You have a translator?”

  “A translator chip,” he elaborated. “All starship commanders and crew members have one. The Lasarans sent us an upgrade that included ten Earth languages so we would be able to communicate with you when we found you.”

/>   “Cool. I’m guessing your chip is telling you that suck means to close your lips around something and create a vacuum?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s actually correct. But the phrase that sucks is slang used to express… well, either annoyance or sympathy, depending on how it’s used. Like if someone said My boss just fired me, you might respond with Wow, that sucks.”

  He nodded. “I shall commit that to memory.”

  “So you’ve spoken with the Lasarans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do they know who attacked the ship?”

  “Gathendiens launched the attack.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she practically shouted, fury entering her voice. “The Gathendiens did this?”

  Eyebrows flew up all around the bridge as crew members exchanged looks of surprise.

  “Yes.”

  “The same Gathendiens who used a bioengineered virus to try to exterminate the Lasarans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, seriously, Dagon, you have got to find a way to reach me before I die so I can hunt those bastards down and kick their collective asses.”

  Barus grinned. “I like this woman.”

  “Who was that?” she immediately asked. “I don’t recognize his voice.”

  “He’s my second-in-command, Barus.”

  “Nice to meet you, Barus,” she said, her voice still full of pique. “I take it you don’t like the Gathendiens either?”

  “I loathe the Gathendiens,” Barus replied.

  “Good. Then do me a favor and help Dagon find a way to reach me faster so I can help you kick those fuckers’ asses.”

  Grins broke out among the crew.

  She didn’t ask them to find her so she would live. She asked them to find her so she could exact vengeance. Every man here understood that.

  She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that,” she said, the words more calm and carrying a little chagrin. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I tend to have a foul mouth when I’m upset, and I know nothing about your culture. Do you guys, by any chance, curse or use foul language when you’re angry?”