Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Takkian
Takkian stirred awake, feeling the weight of the blanket draped over him and the knot of the old blanket at his waist. He wanted to shed it when he’d gotten into this bed, but knew it was not the time to be fully and completely naked with her. That extra layer between them was a necessary reminder to keep his hands—and cock—to himself. He shifted and arranged himself as best he could. The comforting warmth of Sevas pressed against his side pulled him back from the edge of sleep. He remembered the night before—the escape, the chaos, the kiss that he would never forget.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake her. Her face was peaceful in sleep. Those dark red eyes closed against the low light. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she nestled closer. There was a serenity about her that warmed him, but the memories of the arena nagged at the back of his mind. They couldn’t afford to linger in comfort for long. Not yet.
After a moment, he slipped out from under the blanket and pushed off into weightlessness to avoid disturbing her. The ship hummed softly around them, a reassuring sound that reminded him they were still safe—at least for now. He moved quietly to the door and eased out into the corridor. After making use of the washroom at the end of the hallway, where he took some extra time in the sonic cleaning tube that eradicated every trace of dirt and grime from his body, he made his way to the main cabin. There, he found Bruil and the scent of something warm in the air.
The older Zaruxian sat in one of the main cabin seats with a bowl in hand. He methodically munched on what appeared to be those protein pellets Ulo had replicated earlier. Bruil glanced up, raising an eyebrow at Takkian’s entrance. “Good to see you awake,” he said between bites. “You look like you could use something to eat. You turned into a dragon. That has consequences.”
Takkian rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “I will, Bruil.” He was hungry, but he floated to the seat next to him and clipped in. “What’s our status?”
Bruil shrugged, taking another bite. “We’re holding steady. I need to navigate around the planet, though. Don’t want Axis scouts finding out where we are.”
“Good call.” Takkian glanced at the young Dokkol who resembled a craggy, floating boulder wedged in the corner of the cabin. “Has he woken up at all?”
“No,” Bruil replied. “Hasn’t budged from that spot. Little guy was exhausted.”
Little . What a funny way to describe the towering Dokkol. But Ulo had surprised them all. “He saved my life. Sevas adores him.”
“And you adore her.”
Takkian shrugged, seeing no reason to deny it. “She’s mine, Bruil.”
Bruil leaned back in his chair, eyeing Takkian thoughtfully. “You know, it’s not uncommon for Zaruxians to take Terian mates.” He said it with deceiving casualness. “Zaruxians and Terians are compatible. Our home planets were located close to one another and we share a common ancestor, or so the stories say.”
Takkian frowned, unsure where Bruil was going with this. “Compatible? This isn’t about some ancient lore. She’s not just my mate because of biology.”
Bruil waved a hand dismissively. “Of course, but think on it. You felt something when you first met her, didn’t you? Something powerful. It was more than mere attraction. Any conscious being with vision could see it. I could see it, although I saw no point in mentioning it. I expected we’d die soon enough. But you should know, the bond you have with Sevas is likely part of that deep connection.”
Takkian crossed his arms. An uneasy growl rumbled in his throat. “You’ve talked about the fight for Zarux. How we lost against forces organized by the Axis so some nameless enemy could take our planet for its rich resources. You never mentioned a Terian connection.”
“It wasn’t relevant,” Bruil said. “They had no defenses to speak of. Teria was taken quickly by the Axis and most of their people were slaughtered, except for those rounded up and sent to penal colonies. Sevas would be the ancestor to one of them.” He shook his head. “Sad about that. Without regular exposure to the psiak radiation their planet generated, their lives would be a fraction of the length of what they should be.”
Takkian didn’t know whether to be curious for more information or furious that Bruil didn’t speak of the Terians more. He opted for a third option—dealing with ancestry and biology later, when they were safe. “I know nothing about a Zaruxian-Terian shared heritage. I just know that I love Sevas. She’s mine as much as I’m hers.” Even as he said it, he felt the truth of it—felt the undeniable connection he had with Sevas vibrate in the back of his mind. She felt like home, something familiar amidst all the chaos.
Bruil leaned forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Takkian. “You need to understand what’s happened here. Taking a Terian mate is more than ancestry or biology. It’s something that threatens the Axis.” He shook his head. “I should have told you everything. If I’d known it would be this important…”
“Then speak up now,” Takkian said, pushing down impatience. “Tell me how my bond with Sevas is a threat to the Axis.” It sounded ridiculous just saying the words. He wondered if Bruil’s mind was becoming unraveled. If too many cycles in that cell had broken him.
“I was young when we lost our planet, but there were a few facts that every Zaruxian knew,” Bruil said. “One, when a Zaruxian and a Terian formed a life bond, the Zaruxian’s fire burned hotter. Literally.” He held up a finger. “It was measured and verified. When the two life forces mingled, the Zaruxian’s dragon fire burned hotter and more powerfully than that of those without a Terian mate. And second, the offspring of such a match cannot transform into a dragon.”
Takkian blinked at him. “We were in that cell for many, many cycles, and you never thought to tell me about this?”
Bruil threw up his hands. “Why would I? Like I said, the arena was a death trap. A dead end. Why would I start talking about future mates with a species you’d never come in contact with?”
Takkian rubbed his hands over his face. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Plenty,” he snapped back. “I know you weren’t actually listening to my talks about Zarux and the war. There’s a lot of history you don’t know.”
“I listened,” Takkian growled. “Made me homesick for a place I’d never been.”
Bruil grunted. “Plus, I kept some back because I wasn’t sure that you weren’t an Axis agent.”
“What?” Takkian stared in shock. “How could you think that?”
“You couldn’t remember anything before arriving at the arena, for one thing.” Bruil crossed his arms, looking stubborn. “You almost always won matches. You’re very young, which means you were a mere infant when we lost Zarux. You could have been indoctrinated by the Axis. The memory thing was—still is—very strange.”
Takkian couldn’t argue with that. There was no logical reason for his inability to remember his childhood, or much before the arena. “All I have is a vague memory of a dark planet with black soil, endless rows of crops, and…chains. Maybe it was so bad I’ve blocked it out.”
“Can’t have been worse than the arena,” Bruil said. “Have you blocked that out?”
“So why do you think I can’t remember my life?” he asked, his jaw tight. “Or do you still believe I’m an Axis agent?”
Bruil held up a finger. “I never said I believed that, just that it was a possibility. And I do think the Axis have something to do with your memory loss.”
“I’m not an Axis agent,” Takkian said, feeling tired again. “Just to be clear.”
“I know.” Bruil picked up a piece of food. “You burned down and destroyed an Axis arena to protect your mate. No Axis agent would have done that.”
Takkian unclenched his jaw as he took in Bruil’s words. “They put us in a final match. I’d never hurt her, but I knew if I didn’t fight her, it would have been worse. My instincts took over.”
“There was no winning that.” Bruil’s tone took on a somber note. “When you step up to protect someone, you’re choosing to live for them, fight for them. You get that in your bones, and you’d do anything for them.”
Takkian felt a flicker of warmth spread through him. Bruil had it right. He wanted to protect her, to ensure she had the chance to see beyond this, to thrive, even if he didn’t survive it. “I wouldn’t change it,” Takkian muttered. “I won’t let Sevas go. I don’t care if our offspring can’t be dragons.” It blew his mind that he and Sevas could have offspring at all. They were different species, but perhaps not that different, if Bruil was correct.
Bruil nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. “Shifting isn’t a pleasant experience, anyway, from what I recall of it. It’s been many mig-cycles since I’ve known that form.”
Takkian nodded. “It’s not.” He glanced at Ulo, who let out a loud snore and shifted in his spot. “He’ll be waking up soon. So will Sevas. I’ll go to the cargo hold, see what supplies we have.”
Bruil cast a meaningful glance to his waist. “Find some pants, Takkian.”
Takkian smirked, unclipped and pushed off towards the back of the ship. He entered the tight cargo hold, hoping to find something useful. It was clear that this ship wasn’t a transport vessel, due to the size of the hold. Its main purpose had to be transportation. There was a small collection of metal containers of varying sizes held to the floor by magnetic latches. He moved alongside the packed crates and glanced over a few containers, checking their labels and contents. Some held food and medical supplies, which was a good thing. Even though the replicator produced enough to fill their nutritional needs, devices could break. It was good to know that there were backup supplies. He found a container full of garments and pulled that aside. He dug through it and, thankfully, found a pair of thick cloth pants that would suit him. They were short, but they fit, and there was also a shirt made of stretchy material that he could alter to accommodate his wings. The footwear was all way too small. He put them on right there and then, stuffing the blanket inside an empty container. He never wanted to see it again.
He couldn’t choose Sevas’ clothing for her, but she needed something to wear other than the rags she’d been given at the arena. Bruil’s clothing was fine, for now—well-made leather and cloth that he’d gotten many cycles ago as rewards for winning matches. Ulo didn’t wear clothing over his rock-layered skin.
Then he spotted a crate tucked away. He pulled it free. It was marked with a faded emblem of some unknown species or organization. Opening the lid, he discovered a selection of weapons—a few blades of different lengths, a faze wand for disabling but not killing an enemy, and what looked like a small plasma gun. On the bottom was a sleek metal slingshot. He grinned and pulled back the stretchy sling and a precision digital aim display glowed in the air above it. A ball of blue plasma automatically formed in the sling. He let out a low whistle and gently released it, causing the plasma ball to disappear. He set that aside, too. Sevas would like it.
Takkian emerged from the cargo hold with his arms loaded with the supplies he’d found. He’d loaded everything that would be useful into one crate for easy moving in weightlessness. He floated into the main cabin, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the haul. The sight that met him was heartening—Sevas was awake, eating with Bruil. She had contained her golden hair and wrapped it in a strip of cloth. Ulo was awake, too. They all looked up as he entered.
“Look who’s back,” Bruil said, a smile curling the corners of his lips.
Sevas grinned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand after taking a bite of food. “I saved you some,” she said, gesturing toward a fresh protein pellet. “Bruil said you haven’t eaten yet.”
Takkian chuckled softly and moved closer, balancing the crate in his arms. “I found some things that might come in handy. There’s food in here, clothes for you, a few weapons, and…” He paused, pulling out the slingshot. “This.”
“Nice!” Her eyes lit up as she reached for it. She ran her fingers over the sleek metal and stretched the rubber. Her eyes widened at the sight of the digital display. “I’ve never seen one like this.”
“I think this one is an actual weapon, rather than the thing thrown at you in the arena,” he said, clipping into the seat beside her and eating a protein pellet.
“Ah.” Bruil unbuckled and moved to the operator console as a signal popped up on the communications display. The screen flickered to life, a series of rotating colors framing the stark blackness of the transmission.
“What is it?” Takkian asked, a sense of urgency prickling his skin.
Bruil pushed himself off and moved to the console, leaning over the screen. “We have a reply from the Dokkol.”
Ulo’s head snapped up, eyes wide with hope. “We do?”
“They have received our distress signal and are confirming location and identity.” Bruil looked back with a smile. “Looks like you’re going home, lad.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Takkian said. “Make arrangements for a rendezvous, Bruil.”
Bruil nodded and bent over the console. “I’m doing so now.”
Ulo swallowed hard as he shifted closer to Bruil, his enormous frame threatening to overtake the small space of the operator area. Bruil glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Transmission sent.”
Ulo took a steadying breath. “Thank you. I hope they respond soon.”
They did, with the communications screen lighting up moments later. “Ah,” Bruil said. “The Dokkol transport is arriving within fifty piks . They say to standby and prepare for extraction.”
The screen went dark and silence swept through the cabin.
“I’m going to miss you, Ulo,” Sevas said, slapping a hand on Ulo’s shoulder. “But I’m relieved that you’re going home.”
He blinked down at her. “I wish you could come. All of you.”
“I kind of wish we could too,” she said with a smile. “But our path is different. And your family needs you.”
Fifty piks slid by quickly enough with Bruil watching the display for incoming ships and Sevas poking through the crate of garments. Takkian enjoyed watching her evaluate them based on size, sturdiness, and how likely they were to allow her to move easily. She did not seem to care what they looked like. When she emerged clean and fresh from the washroom wearing a pair of tight black pants that were clearly made for someone with a tail, and a low-cut shirt with an attached cloak, both in wildly different colors, he just blinked in surprise. She’d closed the tail hole by wrapping a band around her hips, but there wasn’t much she could do with the shirt’s gaping front, which exposed the full swell of her breasts.
“I don’t care what I look like.” Sevas raised her chin. “Nothing else fit. I don’t know who these people were, but they weren’t shaped like me.”
“Very few are shaped like you,” Takkian murmured, pulling her close. “I think you look…delicious.”
She raised one brow and slid a finger down this chest, making his body tighten. “Hmm. So do you.”
“Not now, you two,” Bruil grumbled. “The Dokkol ship has arrived.”
The communications system pinged. “Vessel, state your occupants and weapons status,” said a Dokkol ship operator.
Bruil sighed and told the other ship that they were not armed, but their identities couldn’t be disclosed. The Dokkol didn’t like that, but Ulo moved in and hit the com signal with one large finger.
“Dokkol ship, this is Ulo, son of Yil and Perna of the Dip-Gah province. We escaped an Axis arena where we’d been taken prisoner.”
“Axis?” the voice responded, the gravelly sound laced with concern. “I have received word of a violent escape from arena number 3-L. Confirm number and status.”
“There are four of us,” Ulo replied, a tremor of anxiety threading through his voice. “We escaped the arena. Please, I need to get back home.”
There was a pause before the voice continued—a crackle of static interrupting the flow. “Understood. Hold position and lower shields. We will be boarding your vessel.”
“Okay,” Ulo said with relief in his voice. “We’re ready.”