Allies

by Bella Forrest

  Stone didn’t stand a chance now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. It was early, and the dingy sun that shone down on the Junkyard was barely visible through the smog, as seen from the bedroom window. I wasn’t sure what had woken me up, but there didn’t appear to be any intruders. The hatch was still firmly closed, but Navan wasn’t sleeping beside me. He was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if that was what had woken me, but Navan often slipped out of bed to go to the bathroom or the kitchen, and it rarely disturbed me.

  I glanced over at the locator compass, which I’d set on the nightstand the previous evening, leaving the celestial map in holograph mode. A new green dot had appeared, flashing rapidly from a location nearby, and was approaching fast. It hadn’t quite zoomed into the more detailed town map, but was still a fair distance away, letting me know that the human was beyond the atmosphere of the Junkyard, but heading inward with every minute that passed.

  A ripple of anxious excitement pulsed through me, though I hoped it wouldn’t be crushed by the sight of the president again. This time, it had to be Lauren, landing with Stone. It just had to be.

  I peered at the trajectory again. They seemed set on a specific course, heading diagonally across the map. I couldn’t be sure whether their destination was the Salty Siren Inn, not without the help of the ship’s navigation system. Throwing on clothes, I picked up the compass and sprinted out of the room, barreling through the corridors of the ship toward the cockpit.

  “We’ve got a new dot!” I shouted on repeat as I ran, bringing everyone out of their chambers. Most of them looked sleepy, and Mort looked furious, but I didn’t care. Lauren was on her way, and we had to be ready for her.

  Ronad was sitting in the pilot’s seat of the cockpit when I skidded to a halt, brandishing the compass at him. Bashrik, Angie, and Xiphio were following behind me, dragging their feet. Mort had shut the door as soon as I passed. Xiphio was the only one who seemed sprightly, though Angie didn’t seem too appreciative of the attention he was giving her as they walked, starting a morning tirade of endless questions about Lauren.

  “Look!” I yelped excitedly.

  Ronad smirked. “I know. I heard you from the other end of the ship!”

  “I thought it’d be a nice wake-up call,” I protested, cradling the compass in my hands. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Navan this morning, have you?”

  Ronad gave a half-shrug. “He told me he was going out for a while. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, but I figured he wanted to scope out the spot where we’ll be ambushing Stone. You know, map out all the blind spots and escape routes, that kind of thing.”

  I frowned. “Without the rest of us?”

  “I guess so,” Ronad replied, his tone noncommittal. “Maybe he was worried we’d attract too much attention if we all went together. He didn’t look particularly concerned or anything, so I wouldn’t get too stressed about it. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  It seemed odd that Navan wouldn’t even wake me to tell me where he was going, especially as he knew I’d worry, but maybe Ronad was right. If a group of us went to scope out the Salty Siren Inn and all of its surroundings, people would probably start to get suspicious, especially if we were being watched from the skies.

  “Hey, Bashrik, can you prick your finger on the end of this needle?” I asked, turning to him and shifting the dial on the locator compass to open up a new canister.

  “Uh… I don’t really like needles,” Bashrik said, inching away from me.

  I took a step toward him. “If we add your blood to the locator, we can see when and where Ezra is approaching the Junkyard to rendezvous with Stone.”

  Angie put her hand on his arm. “Yeah, I doubt there are too many coldbloods on this planet.”

  “Maybe we should wait and ask Navan,” Bashrik said, glancing down at the needle. “He might have already scouted out Ezra’s location.”

  “Come on, Bash, it’s just a tiny little needle,” Angie urged.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have our species’ location visible for all to see,” he protested, but I could tell he was starting to relent. He’d have done anything to prove himself in front of Angie.

  “It’ll only be visible to us,” I replied.

  “Yeah, for now, but what if it falls into the wrong hands?”

  I smiled, knowing he was playing for time. “We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “I could always do it, if you don’t want to,” Ronad offered.

  “I’m not sure it’ll work with your blood, given the change you’ve gone through,” I said, glancing at him. “We might end up with an entirely different marker, if it can’t quite tell what you are through your altered blood.”

  Ronad frowned a little, and I felt bad. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “I’ll hold your hand if you’d like, Bash,” Angie said with a smile.

  Bashrik sighed wearily. “No, it’s fine.”

  To prove the point, he held his index finger toward the device, though he squeezed his eyes shut as the sharp tip of the needle bit into his skin. A droplet of blood rose to the surface. It trickled through the hollow body of the needle, settling at the bottom of the miniature canister. A moment later, three blue dots peppered the celestial map—two inside the ship, and one outside.

  “I guess it still sees me as a coldblood, even after I took that serum and went through all those changes,” Ronad said, sounding unsure of his own feelings as he watched his dot flash on the screen next to Bashrik’s. I didn’t know what to say to comfort him.

  “Where is that?” I asked, pointing at the location of the third blue dot, which was moving around the expanse of the Junkyard.

  Ronad shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Can you check against the ship’s navigation system?”

  “I’m sure Navan will tell us where he’s been once he gets back,” Ronad said. A bristle of annoyance rippled through me. Did he know where Navan really was, and just didn’t want to tell me? Maybe I was being paranoid. Navan would be back soon enough—I could see him moving in our direction.

  “So, what kind of poetry does Lauren like?” I heard Xiphio say behind me. He had pretty much cornered Angie, trapping her in conversation. Bashrik had taken up a spot at the controls beside Ronad.

  “Poetry?” Angie retorted. “I’ve got no idea what poetry she likes, and I doubt it’d be anything you knew. Now, if you’ve got a filthy limerick you’d like to entertain us with, I’d be more than happy to hear it.”

  “A limerick is no way to charm a lady, Miss Angie. No, I have a whole library of wondrous poetry stowed away in the annals of my mind! Name a poet and I shall conjure up a piece for your delectation and delight,” he insisted.

  Angie shot a “help me” look in my direction. “I’d really prefer it if you wouldn’t.”

  “So would I!” Bashrik interjected from the controls. “Don’t merevins understand boundaries?”

  Xiphio looked mortified for a moment. “Oh, goodness, Bashrik. I wasn’t… I was merely hoping to try out some poetry from your lovely lady’s planet, for the purpose of… well, discovering what Lauren might enjoy. My intentions are wholly pure,” he assured him.

  Angie gave a sigh of relief, evidently expecting the ordeal to be over now that Bashrik had stepped in. Only, he had turned back to what he was doing, apparently satisfied that Xiphio had no interest in his girlfriend, leaving him free to continue.

  “A sonnet, or a piece of prose, perhaps? I can recite most things upon request, and I would very much like to know which pieces your friend enjoys, so that I might see if our personalities align. I feel such an affinity with her already, and the two of us have yet to even meet! Truly, it must be destined; I feel a stirring in the stars!” Xiphio enthused.

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather you kept your stirrings to yourself,” Angie muttered, catching my eye ag
ain.

  I hurried over to save her from being Xiphio’s encyclopedia on how to woo Lauren. Even so, there was something amusing about the way he acted. Like most merevins, it seemed, poor Xiphio had an undeniable hero complex, prompting him to make grandiose, chivalrous statements, like some overzealous white knight. Even the most romantic of girls would have found him somewhat overbearing.

  “I think Bashrik needs you to see to his finger,” I lied, freeing Angie.

  “No problem, I’ll get a bandage from the first-aid kit,” she cried, making a break for it before Xiphio could say another word. Still, he didn’t seem too bothered by her hasty exit, carrying straight on with his train of thought, addressing me instead of Angie.

  “Truly, I feel as though her mind must be calling to mine from the ether,” he continued. “We are being drawn together in this serendipitous meeting, and I know I shall be the one to heal what has been hurt within her, once we know each other in our corporeal forms. Our spirits, I believe, are already well acquainted.”

  I stifled a giggle, knowing Lauren would hate this. “She likes poetry from our planet,” I explained. “I think she’s a fan of e. e. cummings, Carol Ann Duffy, and a few of Shakespeare’s most famous sonnets.”

  “Shakey-who? Never heard of them. They must not be very good,” Xiphio remarked.

  “I think there are a lot of high school students who’d agree with you, but he grows on you,” I replied, smiling.

  I had to stop myself from cringing at the idea of him reading out a sonnet to her, but at least he was distracted for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Talk of Earthly things turned my thoughts toward the conversation between the president and Ezra, and the terrifying vagueness in what I’d heard. A deal with Ezra could only be a bad thing, but I didn’t know the details, and, frankly, that scared the living daylights out of me. What was being offered—guns, weapons, warships? And what did that mean for the people of Earth, who likely had no clue that an interplanetary deal was even being struck? What would we have to give in return?

  “I shall see what I can do about a sonnet, though I may find a more suitable one amongst my repertoire—one that I believe shall be befitting of her beauty and spirit!” Xiphio said, after a lengthy pause.

  “You can recite as many sonnets as you like, fish-boy, it won’t change your face!” Mort chimed in, padding through the cockpit hatch. “The poor girl will be begging for a hook by the time you’re done.”

  “Mort!” I chided, as a purple flush rose to Xiphio’s cheeks.

  Mort shrugged. “Just telling it like it is, sweet cheeks. Merevins are all the same, recycling poetry to whichever pretty thing comes along next. He’ll pretend it’s just for her, but he’s probably read it out to a thousand other victims.”

  “I demand you take that back!” Xiphio declared.

  “Can’t hide the truth, fish-face.”

  “Listen, Mort, you aren’t a picture of beauty yourself! So, if you can’t come in here and say something nice, then don’t say anything at all,” I snapped suddenly, my anger flaring. “You’re always saying what you like, but you never actually say anything useful! I’m starting to wonder why we even brought you on this trip, since all you do is sleep and keep secrets.”

  Mort smirked. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t about our fishy friend anymore? What’s the matter, did the bloodsucker go running to the nearest brothel for a taste of something more exotic?”

  “No, he didn’t!” I fired back.

  “Well, I don’t see him anywhere.” He was taunting me, but I couldn’t help rising to it. Mort had been around Orion and Ezra long enough to know something was up with them and Earth’s leaders, yet he hadn’t said a word about it. I wanted to know why.

  “This isn’t about Navan; this is about you keeping things from us,” I insisted. “You must have known about the president and Ezra. You must have.”

  Mort raised his fleshy hands in protest. “I didn’t know anything about baldilocks being in cahoots with the rebel coldbloods. You think they’d let us shifters in on that kind of info?”

  “Then how do you know what he looks like?” I countered, suspicious.

  “I’ve seen enough Earth TV to know what the president of the United States looks like. Everyone knows what he looks like. He doesn’t exactly keep himself to himself, does he?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, still unconvinced. “Well, maybe you didn’t know about the president, but you definitely knew that Ezra was Pandora’s brother! That might have been nice to know!”

  “Hey, don’t blame me for that. I thought you already knew,” he protested, though there was a mischievous look on his face. “Plus, wasn’t it more fun to find out that way? I imagine you need a bit of excitement with Captain Dull for a boyfriend. A cheap thrill or two is never a bad thing.” He winked, his wrinkled lid trailing over one red-veined eye.

  “No, it wasn’t freaking fun! That’s something a girl like me needs to know!” I shouted. “Do you have any idea what’ll happen if Ezra finds out I was the one who killed Pandora?”

  Mort snorted. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. He definitely knows it was you by now. Orion will have told him,” he said bluntly. “I’d bet my life on it, and you know how precious I am about my life.”

  I stared at him, aghast. I wanted to wipe the amused look off his face, but I was frozen to the spot in shock. Ezra was Orion’s right-hand man—of course he would’ve told him. Plus, judging by what I’d overheard, he’d been the one holding Orion’s hand through his grief. I’d known this day would come, when my part in Pandora’s death would no longer be a secret, but the fact still terrified me.

  “How did these coldblood rebels come to infiltrate Earth in the first place?” Xiphio asked, breaking the tense silence. “Surely, there ought to have been Federal agents preventing such a thing from taking place. The Vysantheans are known flouters of the rules, but they should not have been permitted to settle on a planet with such limited exposure to the universe.”

  Mort shrugged. “What’re you asking me for? In that setup, I was the equivalent of you, Agent Klutz—the lowest of the low.”

  “Yes, but Earth ought to be protected under the Embryo Project, wherein young planets with a fairly lesser-developed indigenous species are shielded by hidden groups of Fed agents,” Xiphio insisted, ignoring Mort’s insults. “It is a well-known project. There are several planets under its protection, and Earth is one of them, I believe. I cannot understand how such an infiltration has been allowed to occur.”

  “Lycans, probably,” Mort remarked. “They’re bored and lazy, and it’s made them more or less useless.”

  Xiphio shook his head, his brow furrowed in concern. “This really is not acceptable. I didn’t realize that the coldbloods had such a strong base there. Someone ought to have stopped it by now.”

  He genuinely seemed troubled by the situation, reviving my hopes that we might have a long-term ally in him, despite all the crimes I’d committed. In the grand scheme of things, I hoped that a rebel coldblood infiltration would be a lot higher on the priority scale than a couple of misdemeanors. Although, he’d never been stationed on Earth before, so what power he could wield there, I had no idea.

  “You know they’re trying to make an immortality elixir too, don’t you?” I said, testing the waters. “Queen Brisha, Queen Gianne, and the rebels—all three are in a race against each other to see who can make it first. So far, nobody has succeeded, but it’ll only be a matter of time until one of them does. In fact, Stone has a notebook with him that might hold the secret to making a successful elixir. It’s another reason we need to take him down, without him getting away, in case he sells it to someone.”

  Xiphio’s gills began to open and close more quickly. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do about that. I can assist with retrieving the notebook, but beyond that… No, I don’t think that’s for me, I’m afraid.”

  “Can’t you tell your friends in the Fed? Can’t they do something t
o stop it?” I pressed. Honestly, I was shocked by his hesitancy. I would’ve thought he’d jump at the chance to take on the bad guys, in the same way he’d shown concern about the rebels congregating on Earth.

  “No, I really don’t think there’s anything they can do,” Xiphio mumbled.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! Isn’t that what you guys are for?”

  “We traverse the universe, to serve and protect.”

  “Yeah, well, this falls under that category, Agent Xiphio,” I urged. “What’s the problem? Why can’t you call up your Fed buddies and let them know what’s going on? I’m sure they’d do anything they could to stop the Vysantheans, rebel or otherwise, from making an immortality elixir—as in, Vysantheans with eternal life, leaving a path of chaos wherever they go!”

  Xiphio lowered his head. “The truth is… I don’t have much influence with the Fed anymore. My reputation is in tatters. Even if I told them about it, they’d think I was overreacting or trying to come up with something to regain some respect. They would likely file it under ‘unimportant’ and carry on with their lives,” he explained sadly. “Plus, you and your friends are still, technically, criminals. Your faces are in the index, and I will be forced to arrest you after this mission, regardless of my feelings.”

  Mort snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

  I shot him a cold look, before turning back to Xiphio. “I understand. You’re just doing your job.” Although, in my head, I knew we’d just overpower him again.

  “Fear not. I will do whatever I can to help your vulnerable home planet. It might end up being a suicide mission, to attempt to overtake a rebel coldblood and shifter alliance, especially one of that size, and try to remove them from Earth,” he said dubiously. “I imagine that’s why the lycan forces on Earth have not attempted it. Undoubtedly, the rebels installed themselves under the lycans’ noses, and by the time they realized it, the coldblood numbers were too great.”