Chapter 14
14
P ain exploded across Maax's jaw as a fist connected. The force snapped his head back, and he stumbled, held upright only by the iron grips on his wrists. His boots scraped against the polished floor as they dragged him forward, the sound echoing off the metal walls of the corridor.
"What is this about?" His words came out slurred, copper flooding his mouth. He worked his jaw, spitting out blood. "I demand to know the charges."
Silence answered him. The four warriors maintaining their bruising hold didn't even look at him. Their faces remained impassive masks as they marched him deeper into the security wing, past rows of identical doors.
His heart thundered against his ribs. This made no sense. One moment he'd been saying goodbye to Eira after their evening together; the next, he was surrounded by warriors. No warning. No explanation. Just rough hands and accusations of resistance being futile.
Another warrior fell into step beside them, this one wearing the insignia of command. Hope flared in Maax's chest. Someone who might actually answer his questions...
"I need to speak with Security Chief Z'yan," Maax said, trying to keep his voice steady. "He can verify my?—"
A savage backhand cut off his words. Stars burst behind his eyes as his head snapped sideways. His mouth filled with blood again.
"Purist scum don't get to speak unless spoken to," a warrior growled. "And you won't be speaking to Z'yan or anyone else who might help you escape justice."
Purist? What the draanth... They thought he was... No. That was impossible. He'd never had any connection to the purist movement. His record was clean. Absolutely clean.
They rounded a corner, and the blood froze in his veins. The corridor ahead was different... darker, with fewer doors spaced further apart. He knew exactly where he was now. Places like this were never listed on the deck plan. Interrogation. Fear clawed up his throat.
"Please," he tried again, fighting to keep his voice steady. "Check my records. I'm not?—"
A punch to the kidney doubled him over, driving the air from his lungs in an agonized whoosh. Without them holding him upright, he would have collapsed. They didn't pause, dragging his stumbling form toward one of the heavy doors.
The cell beyond was a nightmare made real. Harsh white light bounced off bare walls, centering on a raised dais in the middle of the floor. Thick restraints hung from the shadows of the ceiling above. Dark stains marked the metal of the dais… old blood that hadn't quite been cleaned away.
"No." The word escaped before he could stop it. He dug in his heels, but it was useless against four warriors. They lifted him bodily, his boots leaving the ground as they carried him to the center of the room.
They grabbed his wrists, forcing them above his head. The restraints bit into his flesh as they pulled them tight. More hands secured his ankles, his feet wide apart.
"Wait," he gasped, pulling on his bonds. The metal edges carved into his skin. "Just wait. This is a mistake. I'm not who you think I am."
The warrior in charge stepped into view, his face cast in shadow by the overhead light. "That's where you're wrong, Maax. " He spat the name like it was poison. "We know exactly who you are. And you're going to tell us everything about your purist connections."
"I don't have any purist connections!" The words echoed off the walls, edged with desperation. "I serve the empire loyally. I always have!"
A cold smile spread across the command warrior's face. He nodded to one of his warriors, who produced a shock baton with a crackle of energy.
"We'll see about that." The warrior turned toward the door. "Make him talk. But keep him conscious. I want him aware when we expose every lie he's ever told."
The first blow caught Maax across the cheekbone, snapping his head to the side. Before he could recover, another fist slammed into his ribs. He tried to curl forward, to protect his core, but the chest strap held him brutally in place.
"We know all about your B'kaar grandmother," one warrior snarled, grabbing a fistful of Maax's hair and yanking his head back. "Was she the one who taught you to hide your purist ties?"
"My grandmother?" Maax wheezed through the pain in his ribs. "What does she have to do with?—"
A punch to the stomach silenced him. Blood sprayed from his split lip.
"Don't play innocent," another warrior stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "We know she was part of the original uprising. Did she teach you the old ways? The pure blood mantras?"
Confusion warred with pain in Maax's mind. His grandmother had died when he was barely old enough to walk. He had no memories of her, only stories his father had told him of a quiet, traditional woman who'd kept to the old ways. She'd never had any purist leanings as far as he knew. No A'Taav had. Ever.
The shock baton fizzed to life. His muscles tensed at the sound. "I swear, I don't know what you're talking about. My grandmother?—"
Agony exploded, white-hot, through him as the baton connected with his thigh. His body convulsed in the restraints as a scream tore from his throat. The smell of burned flesh filled his nostrils.
"Still want to play dumb?" His tormentor snarled. "We can do this all night."
"Please," Maax gasped when he could form words again. His leg throbbed where the baton had touched him. "Just check the records. Call Z'yan. He knows me, knows my family?—"
Another shock cut him off, this time to his shoulder. His vision whited out as electricity coursed through him. He might have screamed again... he couldn't tell through the roaring in his ears.
Time lost meaning. There was only pain, questions he couldn't answer, and more pain. His throat was raw from holding back his screams, and blood trickled down his arms where the restraints had cut his wrists.
Through the haze of agony, he heard a commotion in the corridor. Raised voices. The sound of running feet.
"What in the seven hells is going on here?"
The familiar voice cut through Maax's pain like a blade. Kirr.
"This doesn't concern you, commander," the warrior's voice was cold. "This is a security matter."
"The hell it doesn't." Kirr's massive frame filled the doorway, his expression thunderous as he took in the scene. "Release him. Now."
"This man is a purist sympathizer. We have proof."
"Maax A'Taav? A purist sympathizer?" Kirr barked a harsh laugh. "I've known him since we were children. His father fostered me. He's no more a purist than I am."
"Ah yes," the lead warrior's smile was cruel. "His father."
Something in his tone made Maax's blood run cold despite the fever of pain wracking his body. He forced his eyes open, looking between Kirr and the lead warrior.
"What about my father?" he managed to rasp.
"The man who raised you?" The lead warrior stepped closer, leaning down until his face was inches from Maax's. "He's not your father at all. Your real father is Kaaj S’Taal.”
The blood drained from Maax's face as the implications sank in. Kaaj S’Taal was the leader of one of the hard-line purist factions. Across the room, he heard Kirr's sharp intake of breath.
"That's... that's not possible," he whispered, but even as he said it, old memories stirred. The way some of the clan elders had looked at him growing up. His father's reluctance to discuss his early childhood. The timing of his mother's death, so soon after his birth...
"Oh, it's not just possible. It's the truth." The security warrior straightened up. "And you know what happens to those who conceal purist connections."
Maax did know. The room spun around him as despair crashed over him in a black wave. He'd never see Emily again. Never hold Eira. Everything he'd built, everything he loved, all gone in an instant because of a truth he hadn't even known about.
"Take him to holding." The warrior's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "The transport arrives at dawn."
Maax barely felt the restraints being released. His body, battered and trembling from the shocks, slumped forward. Rough hands grabbed his arms, hauling him upright. His legs buckled, refusing to support his weight.
"No." The word was a broken whisper. “Eira… Emily..."
"I'll find a way to fight this, Maax!" Kirr's voice boomed down the corridor as they dragged him away. "By the goddess, I swear it! They can't do this without a proper trial!"
Maax tried to turn his head, to look back at his friend one last time, but a warrior's hand fisted in his hair, forcing his face forward. The corridor stretched endlessly before him, each shuffling step taking him further from everything he'd ever known, ever loved.
"The purist's daughter will be returned to Earth," one warrior said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. "The matching will be voided, of course. Can't have tainted blood in the breeding program."
Eira. His precious little girl. The sound that tore from Maax's throat wasn't latharian... it was a howl of pure anguish that echoed off the metal walls. He thrashed against their hold, finding strength he didn't know he had left.
"You can't! She's innocent!"
A blow to his back dropped him to his knees. They didn't stop, just dragged him along the floor, his boots leaving dark streaks on the polished surface. Pain lanced through every nerve, but he remained brutally aware of each moment, each step taking him closer to his fate.
“Kirr!” The name ripped from his raw throat. "Tell Emily... tell her I?—”
"Oh, for draanth's sake, shut him up," someone snapped behind them.
A fist connected with his jaw, and stars exploded behind his eyes, but he held onto consciousness. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Kirr's final shout.
"I'll find proof, Maax! Whatever it takes! This isn't over!"
Eira watched Sheena in amazement. The young Tavkronian bent over a cluster of datapads scattered across Eira's dining table, her horns catching the soft blue light from the screens. The glow cast strange shadows on her grey skin, making her look older, more imposing than the girl who'd blushed when Leo had first introduced her.
"The security protocols clearly state—" Sheena's fingers flew across one of the screens.
A sharp knock at the door made her look up.
"I'll get it!" Eira's heart leaped into her throat as she approached the door. She really didn't want to run into those security officers again, but as the only adult here, she absolutely was not letting Leo or Sheena do it. When she opened the door, though, she found an older Tavkronian woman whose resemblance to Sheena was unmistakable.
"Lady Coleman." The alien woman's voice was crisp but kind. "I'm Advocate Tisshel Taci. My daughter called me about your situation."
"Mom!" Sheena moved past Eira to embrace her mother. Eira smiled at the moment of connection between the two as Tisshel leaned down to press her forehead against her daughter's. That moment made her realize how young Sheena still was. After all, what else did kids do when they were in trouble but call their parents?
Sheena stepped back. "I've already pulled up the security protocols and the precedents from?—"
"Show me." Tisshel swept into the room, her own datapad joining the collection on the table. A holographic display sprang to life, showing case files and legal documents. "The purist accusations complicate everything. If they void his status..."
Eira's knees buckled, and she sank onto the couch, her legs suddenly unable to support her. Emily sat curled against her side, clutching Red Dragon with white-knuckled fingers. Grace pressed close on her other side, both girls pale and quiet. She wrapped her arms around them both. This felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.
"They can't just take him away." Emily's voice wavered, small and scared. "He's my papa."
Tisshel's fierce expression melted. She set down her datapad and crossed to Emily, crouching down so that she was on the little girl's level. "Of course he is, sweetheart, and no one is going to change that." She reached out, smoothing Emily's hair back from her tear-stained face with a taloned finger. "I'm a mama too, you know. My job is helping families stay together, and that's exactly what we're going to do."
Emily sniffled, clutching Red Dragon tighter and looking over the toy's be-ribboned neck. "Promise?"
"I promise." Tisshel said firmly. She looked up at Sheenara. "Actually, let's pull up the Guardianship Rights Act. I'm thinking the sections about?—"
A soft chime sounded from somewhere on the table. Sheena searched through the stack of pads and files, then snatched one up. "They've scheduled the appeal for tomorrow morning. First shift."
"That fast?" Eira's heart stuttered right there in her chest. "How can we be ready in time?"
"They're trying to rush this through." Tisshel's lips pulled back from sharp teeth. "Hoping we won't have time to build a proper defense. Assholes. These are standard intimidation tactics."
"Why?" The question escaped her before she could stop it. "Why are they doing this to him? You didn't see his face when they took him. He didn't even fight back."
Silence fell across the room. Mother and daughter exchanged glances that made her stomach clench.
"The purist movement has been against the mate program since it started. If they could prove it's flawed, that the genetic matching isn't reliable..." Sheena said.
"They'd be able to destroy everything we've built." Tisshel's voice was hard. "A hundred and forty-seven matches so far, each one a step toward saving the Latharian species. The empire can't risk losing that progress. So they react, somewhat extremely, to even the suggestion of purist sympathy."
Emily pressed closer to Eira's side. "Papa isn't bad. He makes the nightmares go away."
She wrapped her arm tighter around the little girl, her other hand finding Grace's shoulder. The girls had been inseparable since security had dragged Maax away, as if their shared fear had forged an even stronger bond between them. Kyle was so upset that he'd retreated to his bedroom, Leo reading him bedtime stories to calm him down.
"Of course he isn't bad, sweetheart." She forced a smile across her face. "Some people are just confused, and we need to show them."
"And we will." Tisshel shot Emily a warm smile. "Your papa is one of the good ones, little star. Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes, but we're going to help them understand what we already know… that you and your papa belong together."
A knock at the door made them all jump, and they exchanged glances.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Sheena asked.
She shook her head. "I don't really know anyone else on the station."
"You don't have to answer that." Sheena was already moving to stand between the door and the couch, her slight frame somehow imposing. "Without a warrant?—"
"And even with one," her mother added, rising to her full height, "they'd need to justify disturbing a minor during sleep cycle."
Her heart warmed at their protective stances. The knock came again, more insistent this time.
"Should I..." She looked between the two Tavkronian women, uncertain.
"Your choice," Tisshel said, flexing her hands. The light glimmered on talons that looked a lot more dangerous than they had a moment ago. "We're here either way."
Eira's hand trembled as she reached for the door control. The knock came again, more insistent.
The door slid open to reveal a massive warrior filling the entrance, and for one heart-stopping moment, she thought security had come back. He didn't push into the room, and his expression was filled with concern, his hands open at his sides. She might only be human and not up on the ways of the many species in the intergalactic community, but she recognized a gesture of peace when she saw one.
"Can I help you?" she asked, curiosity filling her as she looked up at him.
He wasn't like any Latharian warrior she'd seen before. He didn't have long hair for a start; instead, it was flaming orange and cut high into a quiff. Eyes the same color studied her steadily.
"Lady Coleman." He inclined his head. "May I enter? My name is Kirr. I'm here to help."
"He's Papa's friend," Emily piped up from the couch. "He brings me treats sometimes."
"Indeed, hello poppet," the big warrior's fierce expression split into a smile as he spotted Emily. He offered Eira his hand. "Formally, I am War-Commander Kirr M'Aab. I'm a friend of Maax's. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Coleman. I only wish it was under better circumstances."
"Me too," she replied, shaking his hand. "Please, come in."
"Thank you," Kirr stepped inside, his movements measured. "I wanted to come personally rather than sending a message. What they're doing to Maax... it's wrong, and I have information that might help."
The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss. In the domestic setting of Eira's quarters, his warrior's frame seemed even more imposing. There was something in his expression—concern, maybe even fear—that made her stomach clench.
"How bad is it?" she asked quietly.
His jaw worked for a moment. "They're saying he hid his purist father and used training from his B'Kaar grandmother to manipulate the genetic records of the mate program to gain access to a human mate. Since the B'Kaar created the matching system, Security thinks he's a purist plant."
"That's ridiculous." The words burst from her before she could stop them. "He would never?—"
"There's more," Kirr said. "Maax has been investigating irregularities in the mate program algorithms. Off the books." He paused, running a hand through his orange hair. "Vaarn, the station's chief engineer, knew about the investigation. But it looks bad. They're going to make it look like he's investigating or even using his investigation to bring down the program."
Tisshel and Sheenara exchanged glances.
"Don't worry," Kirr said, his gaze locking onto Eira. "This will work out. We won't let them take him from you."
"Kirr!" Emily reached for him with the hand not holding Red Dragon. The huge warrior crouched down in front of where she sat on the sofa. Reaching out, his hand engulfed the little girl's completely, and Eira saw his expression soften.
"Promise you'll bring Papa back?" Emily asked in a small voice.
"Warrior's oath, little one." Kirr smiled as he squeezed her hand. "Your papa is too stubborn to go down without a fight, and so are we."
Tisshel and Sheena returned to the table, working in focused silence, their talons clicking against datapads as they murmured to each other in rapid-fire legal terms that made her head spin. She caught fragments about precedents and statutes, but her attention was on Emily's drooping eyelids and Grace's poorly hidden yawns.
"I think it's bedtime for these two," she said softly, leaning in to gather both girls closer.
Emily's head shot up in panic. "No! I want to stay up. I want to help Papa!"
"The best way to help your papa is to be rested for tomorrow." Tisshel looked up from her work, her expression gentle. "We have a lot of work ahead of us, little star."
"She's right," Kirr added. "All warriors need their rest before battle."
Emily's lower lip trembled. "What if they take him away while I'm sleeping?"
The question hit Eira right in the gut. She pulled Emily into her lap, wrapping her arms around both girls. "That's not going to happen, sweetheart.We're going to make sure of it."
Grace pressed closer, her small hand finding Emily's. "You can sleep in my room. Like a sleepover."
Eira's heart squeezed at her daughter's attempt to comfort her friend. Emily hesitated, then nodded, though her grip on Red Dragon remained white-knuckled.
"Come on then." Eira stood, keeping both girls close. "Let's get you settled."
Grace's room felt like a sanctuary after the tension in the living area. The girls climbed into bed together, Emily still clutching Red Dragon while Grace arranged her stuffed bear just so. She tucked the blankets around them both, trying to project a calm she didn't feel.
"Try to sleep," she whispered, smoothing Emily's hair back. "Everything will look better in the morning."
"You promise?" Emily's voice was small in the dim room.
No. She couldn't promise. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, what the appeal would reveal, whether she'd ever see Maax again or if their brief happiness would be torn away. She forced a smile, bending to kiss each girl's forehead.
"I promise we're all going to fight for your papa. Now close your eyes."
She waited until their breathing evened out before slipping from the room. Her hands shook as she pulled the door almost closed, leaving just a crack of light from the hallway. Everything in her wanted to curl up and cry, to rage against the unfairness of it all. She couldn't, though. Not right now.
Tomorrow would come too soon, bringing with it an appeal that could destroy everything they'd started to build. But for now, she had two little girls who needed her to be strong, who needed to believe that everything would be okay…