Chapter 20
TWENTY
Sevas
Sevas clenched her teeth and grabbed Bruil’s arm, yanking him toward the row of stalls. “Come on!” she hissed under her breath. With Axis agents closing in on Takkian, her nerves were raw.
“Don’t pull my arm off,” Bruil grumbled, though he kept pace with her. His sharp yellow eyes scanned the crowd, even as his face stayed neutral. “Where are we headed exactly?”
“The information brokers.” Sevas ducked past a merchant shouting about overpriced fuel cells and squeezed between two lifts packed with crates. “Someone here knows where the Zaruxian ship is. We just have to find the right one.”
“This is not what Takkian had in mind when he told us to stay out of sight,” Bruil muttered, side-eying a vendor sharpening long, serrated blades.
“We’re improvising.” Her jaw was set as she pushed past a group of confused-looking beings with blue tubes in their nostrils. “Going with the original plan and finding those brokers.”
“We have nothing to trade,” he said. “Aside from our weapons, but that would leave us defenseless.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sevas snapped, keeping her pace quick. The smells of alien spices and overheated circuits burned her nose, but she pushed forward, weaving around a group of squabbling traders.
Bruil grunted, but didn’t argue. “Let’s hope there’s a charitable broker, then.”
They reached a cluster of dark booths at the far end of the atrium. The setup was disorganized—a patchwork of tarps, blinking screens, and mismatched tables where brokers sat with datapads and monitors, glaring at anyone who approached. Sevas slowed her pace, her eyes darting between the scattered brokers.
“That one,” Bruil said, nodding to a skinny, horned male perched at the edge of one stall. His striated skin was a slick greenish gray, and his four eyes blinked asynchronously as he spoke rapidly into a headset. He wore layers of mismatched fabrics, all covered in strange metallic trinkets. “Looks like the type who knows who’s coming and going.”
Sevas headed straight for the being, with Bruil close behind her. The broker finished his conversation and looked up as they approached, his upper eyes widening slightly.
“Greetings, travelers,” the male said in a voice that was high and gravelly. He leaned forward, eyes flitting between Sevas and Bruil with sly curiosity. “What do you want?”
“We’re looking for a ship,” Sevas said, getting straight to the point. Her tone was firm, though her heart raced. “A ship carrying two Zaruxian males and two Terian females.” She gestured toward Bruil. “The males look like—”
The broker cut her off with a hiss. “I know what Zaruxians look like.”
“Good.” Sevas’ lip curled. “I want to know where that ship and its occupants are now.”
The broker tilted his head as his mouth curved into what passed for an amused sneer. “And what makes you think I know about that?”
“We don’t have time for this,” she snapped, fixing the broker with a hard stare. “This is a neutral station. You are an information broker. If anyone here has the details I need, it’s you.”
The alien let out a chittering laugh. His upper eyes blinked out of sync with the lower pair. “You’re one of those who broke out of the arena, aren’t you?” He leaned forward, resting long, bony fingers on the edge of the table. “The Axis agents are very interested in finding you and your Zaruxian friends.”
Sevas’ patience had ended. She balled up a fist and slammed it on the table, rattling everything on it and causing a few heads to turn. “Tell them, then. I don’t give a fek . We brought down an entire arena with a lot more enemies than there are here.” She leaned close, baring her teeth. She felt some satisfaction seeing the broker’s smug expression smooth out to a businesslike cunning. “Give me the information I want. Now.”
“My information doesn’t come free,” he said. “What do you have to trade?”
Sevas snatched the blaster from Bruil’s waist.
“Hey,” he objected, but Sevas had already placed the weapon on the table.
The broker’s eyes narrowed. “A good start, but weapons like this are common. I’m given dozens of them every cycle.” His gaze moved to the slingshot at her hip. “Add that to the table and we’ll have a deal.”
She hated the idea of parting with the slingshot. It was the only weapon she had. Without it, she had only her wits and strength, but Takkian was out of time, and she wasn’t about to waste more of it hesitating.
She pulled it out of her belt and held it up. “Fine.”
The broker’s eyes glinted with interest. “Ah, excellent. That is no ordinary slingshot.” His fingers twitched against the table. “Digital aiming display, self-generating electro-ammunition, reinforced frame—where did you get it?”
“Does it matter?” Sevas shot back. “I’m offering it. Take it or leave it.”
The broker extended one hand, long fingers reaching as though he meant to snatch it out of her grip. “Let me see it.”
“Location of the Zaruxian ship,” Sevas said firmly, holding the slingshot out of reach.
The broker let out a slow hiss that might have been a sigh. He tapped something into his datapad, and a holographic map of the docking hangars blinked to life in the air between them. He gestured to one platform, pointing a long finger to a dock labeled 37-D. “The ship you’re looking for is there,” the broker said. There was a glint of sly amusement in his eyes. “However, they are set to depart. They didn’t file a heading. No one does when Axis agents are lurking about.”
“When are they departing?” Sevas pressed, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Ten piks . You’ll never make it, sadly,” the alien said, holding out a hand and flicking his fingers. “Now, the slingshot, if you please.”
Sevas slapped the slingshot into the broker’s waiting palm and drew in a fortifying breath through flared nostrils.
The broker flipped the slingshot over, evaluating the sleek frame before sliding it into a hidden compartment under the table. Then, she saw his keen eyes fix on something far away behind her. “Two Axis agents have entered the atrium. I would run now, if I were you.”
Sevas muttered out a curse and turned on her heel. She grabbed Bruil’s arm and propelled him into motion. “Let’s go.”
They maneuvered through the unpredictable crowd, ducking between crates and past groups of arguing traders. The air felt heavier now. The outpost had become louder, more chaotic, as if it sensed their urgency and actively resisted their progress.
“37-D,” Sevas muttered to herself, her eyes darting upward to scan the narrow pathway signs mounted above each docking bay. So far, she only saw ones in the low twenties. “This traffic isn’t helping.”
Bruil sounded tense as he huffed beside her. “Don’t push so much. You’ll draw attention. That broker wasn’t wrong—Axis patrols are looking for us, too.”
An alien hauling a hovercart full of shimmering blue crystals cut across their path. Sevas stopped short, narrowly avoiding a collision. “Hey!” she shouted, but the alien waved her off and disappeared into the fray.
“This place is insane,” she hissed. “It’s like everyone’s trying to be in the way on purpose.”
Bruil squinted ahead. “Dock numbers are counting up. We’re getting close.”
The crowd thinned slightly, and Sevas spotted the illuminated sign above the docking bay—37. In there, the ship should be on platform D. “There!” she said, breaking into a jog. Bruil followed, but his heavy footsteps weren’t as light as hers. As they pushed through the last cluster of workers and into the docking bay, the platforms came into view. Sevas’ breath caught.
The ship wasn’t what she had expected. Among the enormous freighters and sleek transports stood a massive, dark structure. Its jagged surface shimmered faintly under the harsh lights of the bay. It looked old and intimidating as it rose in a series of tapering towers.
Sevas stumbled to a stop. Her eyes widened in disbelief as memories rushed her, unbidden. How could this be? Before her rose the fortress from Settlement 112-1—the overseer’s fortress. Her heart thudded painfully as she stared at it, her mind racing to catch up.
“Is that…” Bruil’s voice trailed off as he came to a halt beside her. His gaze went wide with awe. “It’s a fekkin’ warship. And not just any ship, but hers . Haven’t seen that one since…”
“It’s the overseer’s fortress,” Sevas whispered, unsure what Bruil was muttering about. Her breathing came in short bursts as some of what he was saying sunk in. “You’re saying that thing was always a ship?”
Bruil glanced at her, his brow furrowed deeply. “It’s a royal Zaruxian ship from before the war. These served as mobile fortresses for the rulers of our planet.”
“I walked past it every day,” Sevas said, her voice a mix of awe and frustration. “I thought—it didn’t—how can it be a ship?”
Bruil frowned, his scarred face hardening. “Probably didn’t want anyone knowing it could take off. More importantly, why the fek is it here?”
Sevas didn’t respond. Her focus narrowed entirely on the ship as the massive docking latches that held it in place began to retract with a low mechanical whine. The large clamps groaned and lifted one by one, releasing their hold on the massive vessel.
“They’re leaving,” Sevas said, her voice rising in panic. She jolted forward, shoving past a group of workers who shouted after her in annoyance.
“Sevas!” Bruil called out, but she couldn’t stop.
Her feet pounded against the metal floor. She raced toward the closest ramp leading to a massive, sealed hatch on the ship’s side. Her lungs burned as she sprinted. The heavy thud of her steps echoed in her ears. The docking latches were halfway up now, groaning as they retracted. The noise mixed with the ship’s systems, which were warming up for departure. She couldn’t let it leave—not without her.
“Wait!” she screamed. Her voice strained against the din of the bustling docking bay. “Stop!”
Sevas hit the ramp at full speed, her momentum carrying her up the incline. Bruil was well behind her, shouting something she couldn’t make out. She skidded to a stop in front of the huge closed door, chest heaving as she slammed both fists against the cold, unyielding surface. “Open the hatch,” she shouted. Her voice echoed in the confined space. “I know you’re in there. Hey!”
There was no response. No movement. Nothing. She banged on the hatch again, harder this time, ignoring the sting in her fists. “Please, open up! I need to see you!”
The ship rumbled louder, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through the ramp. The docking latches were fully retracted now. The ship wavered slightly, no longer attached to the platform. Her breath hitched. They were going to take off.
Bruil finally reached her, pulling up beside her with a grim expression. “Sevas, they’re not opening it.”
“They will,” she said through gritted teeth. She slammed her fist against the hatch again. “Fivra! Turi! Anyone— please . It’s Sevas!”
“Sevas, we need to move.” Bruil’s hand landed on her shoulder. “If they lift off while we’re too close, we’ll be blasted to shreds.”
Sevas shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “No! They can’t just leave. They have to hear me!”
The ship suddenly quieted. The rumble faded and Sevas froze. Her heart pounded as she stared at the hatch. For a moment, she dared to hope.
A faint hiss cut through the air as the thick metal hatch slid open, revealing a tall, imposing figure she recognized too well.
It was him . The overseer from Settlement 112-1. His dark purple scales glinted in the light. His silver eyes were just as piercing as Sevas remembered and the exact same shade as Takkian’s. His broad shoulders filled the space, and his wings were partly unfurled, making him look even more massive.
His expression was unreadable at first—stern, as always—but his gaze landed on her and widened. “Sevas?” His voice was deep, just as flat and commanding as she remembered, but there was a note of incredulity buried in it. “What are you doing here?”
Before Sevas could find her voice, a blur of motion shot out from behind Ellion. Turi?
Yes! It was Turi who darted around him, face lit up with pure, unrestrained joy. “Sevas!” she cried.
Sevas gasped, barely bracing herself as Turi collided with her, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight hug. The impact almost knocked her off balance, but she clung to Turi as if letting go would shatter her.
“I can’t believe it!” Turi sobbed. Her words tumbled out so fast they blurred together. “You’re alive! I almost didn’t recognize you—your hair is yellow? How did you find us?”
Sevas’ throat tightened, a lump forming as she held onto Turi. “It’s a long story,” she said, her voice shaking. “I thought—I thought you were gone.”
“Never,” Turi whispered fiercely, pulling back just enough to look Sevas in the eye. Her dark hair was longer now—thick, vivid blue—and her face was just as Sevas remembered—soft and strong and kind.
Before either of them could say more, another voice joined them, soft and trembling with emotion. “Sevas?”
Sevas turned, her breath hitching as she saw Fivra step out from behind Ellion. Fivra had always been petite. Her delicate frame was almost fragile compared to Sevas’ tall, solid build.
“Fivra,” Sevas whispered, her voice cracking. She barely had time to open her arms before Fivra sprinted forward, flinging herself at Sevas. The smaller female’s embrace was surprisingly strong, almost desperate as she buried her face in Sevas’ shoulder. With her, appeared a new Zaruxian. He was also tall, ridiculously handsome, but his scales were red and his hair was golden. He peered down at her with open curiosity and an expression more friendly than the overseer’s.
“I—I thought… I thought we’d never see you again,” Fivra stammered, her voice muffled against Sevas’ shirt. “They took us and—we were separated. I thought they’d…”
“Shhh.” Sevas held Fivra tightly, one hand gently stroking her hair. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
The red-scaled male smiled, making himself even more handsome. “So this is the famous Sevas I’ve heard so much about.” He made a small bow. “An honor to meet you at last.”
“This is Cyprian,” Fivra said, taking the male’s hand in her own. “And you know Ellion.” She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t like being called the overseer anymore.”
“I never did.” Ellion raised one eyebrow. “And who is this?”
“The name is Bruil, your majesties.” He ducked his head as his yellow eyes flicked between the tearful reunion and the quiet, looming presence of Ellion. “We’ve got problems.”
Sevas gently disentangled herself from Turi and Fivra, though both clung to her for an extra moment as if afraid she might vanish if they let go. “We do,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “We need your help.”
Ellion’s gaze hardened slightly. “This is not a good time. The Axis—”
“The Axis is the problem.” Sevas clenched her fists, grinding her teeth as she stood her ground just outside the ship. She wasn’t a frightened prisoner anymore. She jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’m not stepping one foot into this ship until you agree to help me. Takkian’s life depends on it.”
Cyprian cocked his head. “Takkian?” he said. “Who is Takkian?”
“A Zaruxian,” she said, her voice hard and steady. “He saved me in an Axis arena. He helped me escape, along with Bruil. He’s my… He’s mine .” She took a deep breath. Her throat tightened against the fear rising inside her. “They’re tracking him and chasing him through this outpost as we speak. There’s something inside him—a tracker. Will you help us?”
“Inside him?” Cyprian’s red scales glinted under the dim light, and his sharp silver eyes—uncannily similar to Takkian’s and Ellion’s—assessed Sevas with intent curiosity. “You’re saying the Axis implanted a tracker in him?”
“Yes.” Sevas’ tone was desperate as she looked between Cyprian and Ellion. “He’s out there, running for his life—to save mine and Bruil’s.”
Ellion folded his arms. His expression was unreadable. For a moment, Sevas thought he might dismiss her completely. “If he is yours, he is ours, too.” He looked at Cyprian. “Let’s bring him home.”