Maxym
MAXYM
Discovering the injured Remek warrior was not exactly a surprise. As soon as Cleo mentioned the basement, it was my thought he would be hiding there, surrounded by his armory. It made perfect sense for the place to seem deserted, and as I lift my head, I’m certain he’s been using scent repressors to hide the evidence of his occupation.
Even though he’s indicated he thinks of Cleo as a daughter, it hasn’t quite assuaged my feral side, the mate who hasn’t nested, who hasn’t claimed his eregri in his nest. I give him a warning glance, and a tip of his horned head suggests he understands.
“Come and see Tibi,” he says to Cleo. “She’s been desperately worried about you after what happened at the dome.”
My Cleo hurries out of her bedroom and back in the direction I took when I thought the place was filling with Bogarok.
“What did happen at the dome?” Retah says to me, placing his stick on the floor and hobbling after my mate.
I don’t let him get far before pushing past.
“Carnage,” I growl. “What do you know about the invasion?” I turn to face him in the narrow passage, my bulk stopping his progress.
“I know the Bogarok were sent as an advance force,” he says. “I know they want every fighter, including you, in their usual scorched planet process, only this time it’s not to kill you all, it’s capture.”
“Why?”
“That I don’t know. I got as much information as I could before I got out of Sartak.”
“You were in Sartak?”
He nods his horned head. “Carnage,” he says wryly.
I step aside to allow him to pass. The old warrior knows a trick or two, and I expect I’m only still standing because he’s injured. Not that he would have me down for long.
Retah eyes me as we walk into his study, the hidden door to his basement open, light spilling from the stairwell.
“Cleo believes in you,” he says.
“Choose your next words carefully,” I growl.
He holds up his hands. “As long as she is happy, I’m happy. I’m just pleased she trusted you enough to tell her about her young. Tibi and I were worried she would never say anything.”
“You knew?” I say, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“Tibi guessed and she told me. I don’t know why Cleo tried to hide it from us. Whatever she wanted, we would always be there for her,” he says kindly, his eyes glittering. “I was young once too, you know.”
He walks down the stairs, and I follow, my wings brushing either side of the narrow passage. Behind us I hear the door click and a whoosh of air as our scents are cleansed from the area.
Retah knows his business.
The stairs open out into a large vaulted room, oddly not dissimilar to the one Pryax had. It’s filled with boxes marked with various symbols, some of which my translator can interpret, some of which remain a mystery. I spot several crates of pulsar weapons and a brand new pulsar cannon, along with various types of disrupter small arms.
He definitely knows his business. There’s enough weaponry here to take down a small army.
“You seem like a connoisseur,” Retah says, pushing the top off a nearby crate with a wince before delving inside and pulling out a small pistol. “What do you make of this?”
He tosses it to me, and I catch it in one hand.
“Prefer blades,” I say, turning the thing over in my hand.
It’s small and solid, but it doesn’t look like any pulsar or disruptor I’ve ever seen, The metal gleams with a dull iridescent sheen. At the handle, there is a small window which is filled with a glowing blue light.
“What is it?”
“It’s the latest in Sartak tech, a pulsix. It packs as much power as three pulsar cannons.”
“This does?” I stare down at the small weapon.
“And I have the only supply,” Retah says proudly.
“I presume the Gryn wants to eat. They’re always hungry.” A female Cirmos peers around the side of a crate marked ‘psi-grenades’.
She appraises me with an almost professional interest.
“You must be Tibi,” I say.
She snorts and disappears again.
“Tibi takes some impressing.” Retah chuckles. “Knowing her name isn’t going to assist.” He motions to me as I pocket the weapon. “But if you make the right noises while she feeds you, that might help.”
I follow the direction the Cirmos took and the scent of roast meat reaches me. It seems like a long time since I ate the toasted rolls and had anything more substantial.
We wind through several more piles of crates before we turn into an area which has been specifically set out as a dwelling. There is a table, comfortable seating, and cooking facilities. The tiny Cirmos has prepared a veritable feast laid out ready for us. My Cleo is already seated, and she pats the bench next to her.
I sit, flicking my wings back. Luxuriating in her scent. It’s like being in the dome, only I am not in the dome. I am here, with my mate.
As she slips her hand into my feathers, it feels like home.