Sword Nation 1: House of Rahilius (A Dystopian Sci-fi Romance Novel)
Page 24
“Pyotr,” she said evenly, “Can you go to Lola’s and bring me Riian?”
He nodded, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, “Sure.”
“Approaching, pod 3.”
Lincoln looked at the computer’s radar display. He could see the small green dot moving towards the carrier. He left the pilot bay and opened the large display window. His eyes darted back and forth in the sparkling darkness of space. He slowed the speed of the carrier to make it easier for the pod to reach them and re-enter. Judging from the distance on the radar, the pod should have already come into view.
He saw it in the distance and smiled with relief. There she was. He heard the gears move softly as the small door on the back of the carrier opened up to receive the pod. Lincoln ran towards the back and into the launch area just as Braii stepped out of the pod.
They both ran straight to each other and crashed into each other's arms. He held her tightly against his body and she cried in his arms like a child after a nightmare. He didn’t know what she had done, and didn’t care at the moment. She was his to protect, and his to comfort.
She looked up at him with her tear-stained face and said simply, “Please take me home.”
He nodded, “Computer, back to Graiis.”
The carrier changed course as instructed. Lincoln stood in the launch area holding Braii in his arms, caressing her back and gently placing sporadic kisses on her slightly exposed shoulder.
He hadn’t done everything he set out to do. Rahilius was still alive and well, and Graiis was now at war. But he did accomplish the most important things. The slaves on Kayora were armed, and Braii was safe. He had done what was necessary, and would return to Graiis the man he always wanted to be; courageous, strong, and resourceful. By his side, in his arms, and soon-to-be in his bed, the woman he loved from the moment he first saw her. He had everything he wanted.
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Pyotr took a shot of alcohol, grimacing as it burned deep in his chest. He took in a long, slow breath, then let it out, trying to calm his nerves and silence his conscience. He sat alone in a dimly lit room at a small wooden table. After getting in touch with his operatives above ground, he knew Erwin was scheduled to hang the following morning. He had sent out word of a special mission from the Avenging Angel.
Section leader Herman had chosen ten men. They waited quietly in the other room for Pyotr to brief them on the mission, and choose the soldier who would complete it. This particular mission called for a man; six feet tall, mid-thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes.