Claimed by the Zandian

by Renee Rose

  I bring her into the med bay and set her on an examination bed. Dr. Daneth, himself, bustles over and demands to know what happened.

  I tell him as he hooks her up to monitoring equipment and other machines.

  “Wait outside,” he tells me in a clipped tone.

  I want to insist I get to stay, but that’s stupid. I’m not her mate. Just her master, and this planet rotation will surely be the last I can say that. Reluctantly, I leave the examination room and shut the door.

  Of course, things only get worse.

  “Tarek.” Master Seke and some of the warriors from the dome followed us here.

  My heart sinks. “Yes, Master.” I follow him aside.

  He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Why did you have her in nav training? She’s a danger to herself and others. It’s a bad call.”

  I lower my head. “I gave her a few testing and training sessions. She was not cleared in any way to use that sim. I did not authorize that. Whatever happened here was the result of a misunderstanding.”

  “This is more than a misunderstanding.” His voice is taut. “This is thousands of Zandian-hours of effort, wasted. This is a perfect example of how not to run a training dome.”

  The shame and embarrassment I feel is second only to what I feel when I think about my father. “I apologize for the accident and the loss of resources. I swear upon my life it will not happen again.”

  There’s no way to explain this or make it all right. Of course, I had no control over the technical parts of the pod. I don’t build it, or maintain it—the software is my jurisdiction. But I brought Zina here; she’s my responsibility. I stepped away… just long enough for her to wreak complete havoc on this place. She was my trainee, and I let her out of my control. This is my fault.

  “Why is she even training?” His voice is sharp.

  “I… I don’t have a valid reason,” I admit. My face is as hot as it's ever been. “I allowed myself to be distracted by her company. She is not a technical fit. I will cut her immediately from the training program.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” His voice is wry.

  “We will run a post-mortem.” I wince. “I hold blame for training an inappropriate subject. We also clearly need better checks and balances in place for any being who attempts to enter the pod. Better authorization.”

  “Clearly.” Master Seke sighs. “Estimate of how long it will take to fix this?”

  The tech is at our side. “At a lunar cycle, give or take. But I do have to say that the escape pod worked phenomenally.” He’s bursting with energy and his eyes snap with excitement. “I never thought we’d get to use it this early, but it’s perfect. I couldn’t have designed it better.”

  Master Seke narrows his eyes. “And I take it you’re responsible for leaving the escape ejection pod activated?”

  “Well”—his face looks as hot as mine feels—“I was only going to test it out, you know, later on. With permission. Once we had more pods up and running. With an expert nav. But Yes.” He clears his throat. “I did have it activated. When I should not have had it activated. Or even in existence. Ahem.”

  He falters as he looks at Master Seke’s expression. Clearly, I’m not the only one feeling a share of the guilt.

  “Schedule the post-mortem meeting. I want the two of you there, as well as Captain Drayk. We’ll figure out how to fix this.” Master Seke shakes his head, then gestures toward the closed door. “Any word on Zina?”

  My gut, already tight, squeezes. “Not yet,” I say tersely. I don’t like how long it’s taking, either.

  “Let me know,” Master Seke says, and departs with the tech.

  After what feels like an eternity, Dr. Daneth opens the door and invites me in. “She’s uninjured. Anxiety levels are high, but there’s no breakage, bruising or internal organ affectation.”

  “That’s great.” Somehow, I have a feeling there’s something more, though. Maybe because my sensors report he’s staring at me with eyes narrowed, like he’s contemplating me.

  “She is pregnant, however. Do you know who might have bred this human without dispensation or permission?”

  Zina scrambles up to a seated position. “Wh-what?”

  Ice sluices through my veins.

  “That’s not possible,” I manage to say through numb lips. “She’s sterile.”

  “I removed the sterility device last week. Are you responsible for breeding her?”

  “I… yes,” I manage. “But—”

  “Apparently her reproductive system was strong enough she required no recovery time, although the hormones that were in the device could be dangerous to the infant. I’ll want to check hormone levels daily to be sure the pregnancy progresses and the embryo remains healthy.”

  Dangerous to the infant.

  Memories of my father berating me for causing my mother’s death come flooding in. I stumble back.

  No.

  This can’t be happening. I wasn’t supposed to sire any young. Ever. My condition might be passed along. Zina could die from the pregnancy. My young could be born blind, like me.

  A dark rage, one I’ve held since childhood explodes out of me.

  I whirl on Zina. “Why didn’t you tell me the device had been removed?” I boom.

  “That’s enough,” Dr. Daneth snaps from across the lab. He’s my superior—a royal advisor—but I don’t care.

  “Why didn’t you? Did you want to trick me?”

  I scent her tears before my sensors note lacrimation. Her lips tremble. “Of course not,” she whispers. “I-I didn’t know—”

  All I hear is the thudding of my heart. The crushing blackness of being born defective. The rage against the unfairness of it all.

  I turn and stalk out of the room.

  As if from behind a waterfall, Zina’s voice reaches my ears, calling my name, but I push on, bumping into walls, too shut down to follow guidance from my sensors. Too lost to even know where I’m running to, or what I’m trying to escape from.

  Space.

  I need to get in my ship and get off this planet.

  Get away from the incredible pain of who I am and the destruction I’ve caused.

  Chapter 13

  Zina

  It takes four planet rotations before the grief turns into anger, but when it does, it comes on strong.

  Strong enough to get me out of my dormitory and into the sunlight. Strong enough to feed my unborn child, despite the queasiness that makes me throw up between every meal.

  Strong enough to find Abbi and tell her I figured out what I want to do on Zandia.

  I march into the common room where she’s sitting and stand with my hands on my hips. “I’d like to run a child care center. For the human women who need a break or wish to work part-time or full-time.”

  Abbi stares at me in surprise. “Are you feeling better?”

  I wave away the question with a flick of my hand. “Do you think they’d let me?”

  She unfolds her legs from the hover seat where she was sitting and comes to stand. “Yes, I’m sure they’d love that. There are several older, non-breeding women who work as nannies in the palace.

  I wince a little at the term non-breeding. “Guess I’m considered a breeder now, huh?” I should be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted but knew would never be possible. Even if I hadn’t been sterilized, female slaves don’t get to keep their young. My dream of having my own child to raise would never have come true.

  Now it seems it has.

  And yet the pain in my chest won’t go away.

  Tarek’s cutting words—his anger over my pregnancy keep shredding and re-shredding my heart. He disappeared after he heard the news. I heard he bumped up the timing on a mission that had been in the planning stages, so he’s not even on Zandia. And no being can tell me when he’ll be back.

  Not that I was asking.

  Much.

  But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need him to have this baby, and he doesn’t deserve
to be in its life, anyway.

  And I don’t care if my precious young is blind, or one legged, or born with horns in the wrong place. It will be my young. My very own baby to hold and to raise.

  Abbi gazes at me with sympathy. “You’re not a breeder. You got pregnant enjoying yourself with a handsome warrior. Right?”

  I suck in my breath and nod. “Yes. That sounds much better than breeder. Thank you.”

  “There are other Zandian warriors out there who would probably be happy to claim a female as a mate, even if the child she’s carrying isn’t his own.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want another warrior. I can do this on my own. I mean, if that’s permitted.”

  Abbi shrugs. “Everything goes through King Zander. But he is a benevolent leader and his human mate has his ear. You just need to know what you want to do and then petition for his approval. There may be stipulations, like a Zandian will have to govern you to make sure you and the young fit into Zandian society.”

  My stomach twists. I don’t want any being governing me but Tarek. But no—he lost his chance.

  “He may command you and Tarek to mate. You should be prepared for that. If you don’t want that scenario, be clear about why not.”

  “Tarek doesn’t want that scenario,” I say bitterly. “And neither do I,” I add.

  Abbi walks over and touches my arm. “Maybe give it time before making any decisions. Tarek was shocked by the news. And understandably, he’s afraid the baby will be blind, like him. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get used to the idea and make a wonderful mate and father.”

  My eyes sting because I want that scenario so badly. But my heart can’t handle being trampled again. And Tarek’s done nothing but abandon me.

  I shake my head. “He had his chance. I’d rather King Zander assign me to another male or males than open myself up to heartbreak again.”

  It’s a lie. I know it the moment I speak it, but Abbi nods. “I’ll get you on the roster for the next royal visitation.”

  I swallow down my heartache. For my baby’s sake, it’s time to be strong.

  Tarek

  I’ve been numb for planet rotations. It feels like I’m underwater. Or in an atmosphere where the gravity is far stronger than Zandia’s. Every movement takes effort. Every word is difficult to form.

  Thank veck. Get some space from Zina. Time to think.

  Only I can’t think. I can barely function.

  And the rest of the team is relying on my enhanced navigational skills to get us through the harrowing trash fields of space debris so we can plant our monitoring devices.

  The noise at the back of my head—that bellowing darkness I tried to pack up and shove in there so I could work makes thought impossible.

  “Are you ready to enter the trash field, Tarek?” Benn asks me. We’ve been hovering outside the dangerous no-fly zone for a planet rotation now, waiting for an opening. But an opening won’t come. The more space debris accumulates here, the more dense it has become. Which is why it’s the perfect place to drop our spy-monitors.

  This way, if there is ever an attack from Ocretions on Zandia—and with diplomatic relations getting more and more difficult, that seems more and more likely—then we’ll know about it.

  I draw a deep breath in through my nostrils and exhale. My king and species are relying on me. “Let’s go in,” I say.

  “Are you sure?” Benn asks. “It would be better to abort than to risk getting killed or captured. This isn’t a critical mission.”

  Benn and his best friend Gorde share a human mate back on Zandia and she bore them a unique child who carries both their DNA. I know he’s thinking about his mate Danica as he considers the risks.

  A sharp blade of pain stabs through my own heart at that thought.

  Veck.

  I have my own young to consider—

  No. I can’t think about that.

  I just. Can’t.

  “I’m sure. Put on your harness.” I snap mine securely in place and bring my attention to all the data streaming from my sensors.

  I can do this. For Zandia.

  “Moving in.”

  Benn holds his breath as the craft darts forward, into the minefield of debris. I maneuver quickly, shifting us up, down, to the right, forward. Potential hazards come from every direction, but I dodge each one, my confidence returning as we go in.

  This is what I was born for. This is the only place where my blindness isn’t a detriment, it’s an enhancement. My special skill. My superpower, of sorts.

  Time slows. I dart in and out of the spaces between debris until, at last, we arrive on the other side of it. Right in Ocretion airspace where they have a gap in their own surveillance equipment.

  “We’re in,” Benn reports to Master Seke, back on Zandia.

  “Well done, Tarek,” our master-at-arms praises me.

  “Cloaking enabled,” Benn says, flicking the switch. “We should be able to get over the military bases now and drop the equipment.”

  “Report back when it’s done,” Master Seke says. “Do not get caught.”

  Right. Our capture could set off a war between Zandia and Ocretia and our species is not prepared to take on the galaxy superpower. Yet.

  “Better to die than be captured,” Benn mutters and I know he’s thinking about his family again.

  Veck. Why did Master Seke select a male with a family for this mission? I’m expendable—he is not.

  Except I’m not expendable.

  That thought hits me like a fist to the gut. I’ve been trying to pretend I never learned Zina’s pregnant. Pretending I never knew the human who completely twisted my life and my heart around her finger.

  But, I too, have a young at home. And because of my gene defect, its mother may not even survive the pregnancy.

  The despair that washes over me nearly makes me double over with pain.

  Zina.

  I can’t lose her.

  Don’t think about it.

  I have a mission that is not yet complete.

  When I get back, I can face the situation I ran from like a coward.

  I navigate to the first military site, careful to stay out of range, even though we’re cloaked. “This should be close enough,” I tell Benn.

  “Initiating spysat drop,” he replies, his fingers working over the controls. After a few moments, he reports, “Drop complete. Next location.”

  We continue for the rest of the planet rotation until all the spysats have been dropped. We’re just leaving the last one and headed back to the debris field when a blast hits the ship and explodes into a ball of fire.

  Buzzers sound. Water streams from overhead sprinklers.

  “We’re hit!” Benn shouts over the comms. “Repeat, we’re hit!”

  I pull up on the controls, but the ship doesn’t respond. We’re free-falling.

  Free-falling onto Ocretion soil. Even if we survive the fall, we’d be better off taking poison and ending our lives than giving the Ocretions any proof of our treachery.

  I continue to work the controls, hoping to somehow land this craft.

  “Danica!” Benn calls his mate to say goodbye.

  Oh, veck.

  I unbuckle my harness and stumble to my feet. There has to be a way out of this.

  Think, Tarek, think.

  “Danica, I love you—”

  What about my young? I’ll never meet him or her. And if my precious Zina doesn’t survive, he or she will be an orphan. And it’s that thought, more than any other that makes my decision. I’m not ready to give up and die rather than be taken prisoner. We have to fight to survive.

  Veck, no!

  I activate the oxygen in my flight helmet and secure my flight suit. I yank Benn out of his seat and activate his as well.

  “Benn, what is it? What’s happening? Is that a fire?” The panic in her voice shakes me out of my self-imposed prison of stupidity.

  I have a female I, too, should be calling. What in the veck i
s wrong with me? I drag Benn to the escape pod and shove him in it.

  “We’re going down, Danica. Marea—Papa loves you. Remember that always, sweet thing.” His voice chokes when he speaks to his tiny young.

  I try to activate my comms to call Zina, only to realize she doesn’t wear one. What kind of master was I to her that I didn’t even outfit her with such a device?

  I hit the button on the escape pod and it shoots out into the atmosphere, but we’re too close to the ground to float. We plunge down, down, down to Ocretia, pulled by the heavy gravity of the devastated planet.

  Benn faces me gives me the traditional Zandian salute. “For Zandia.”

  This is it. A swifter end than I ever imagined.

  “For Zandia,” I mutter.

  Zina

  No. It can’t be true.

  I start running the moment Abbi tells me, racing beside her to the palace, where I’ve been summoned for a briefing.

  Tarek’s ship went down. He’s been captured or is dead.

  How could this happen? My strong, brave warrior captured by the horrible Ocretions. The father of my unborn child.

  This can’t be.

  I may have thought I moved on and had resolved to raise this young without him. To give myself to another male or males, but now I know it’s impossible.

  I was made for Tarek. And he’s mine.

  I know it’s true.

  He has to come back from this. He can’t be killed or captured.

  We arrive at the palace and I’m ushered into a conference room. Another human sits there, holding a plump halfling babe. A huge Zandian warrior sits beside her, his arm protectively draped around her, his face pinched with worry.

  Master Seke enters. “I wanted to brief you all personally, as you are the family of the captured warriors."

  I burst into tears. It’s all too much. I’m grateful to be recognized as family, but losing Tarek, first to his anger with me, now to the enemy, leaves me gutted.

  To my surprise, the door opens and Enya slips in and slides into the seat beside me. When she takes my hand and squeezes it, my strength returns.