32. Poppy
POPPY
"Poppy," Vael breathes against the glass.
That’s it. That’s all he says to my warning. Just my name.
I am on the verge of a breakdown. But I have to keep it together. We’re so close now. A glance down tells me the comms device in my cleavage is blinking even faster. It’s in full rave mode, flashing bright right through the fabric of my pink slip.
Bex, whoever that is, and the Suevans are going to get us out of here. Ell and Lily are safe. I just have to get Lucy and Selene out.
“What’s happening, Poppy—”
"Warning," It’s not Ken’s voice, it’s a robotic, low tone, that almost makes me sob in relief. "External threat detected. Remain in your designated pods."
"Too late, mother fucker." I lean back and plant my bare foot right against the frosted glass and kick it as hard as I can.
“Thick thighs save lives,” I scream, raising my leg to kick at it again.
The partition disappears, and my momentum sends me flying through where it used to be. Vael catches me up in his arms.
I’ve never been happier to see him.
The walls dividing the pods drop straight into the floorboards, and suddenly all six of us are standing together while alarms start blaring.
Vael wraps his arms around my waist, his wings curving completely around my back to shield me.
"What is the strategy, Poppy," he rumbles against my neck, nuzzling me.
I pull the tablet out of my boobs, tapping the glass screen, which is covered in sweat. I valiantly choose to ignore that, because we have bigger problems.
A female voice crackles through the speaker, tinny and garbled.
“The old hangar doors are forced open on level three.
We bypassed the lock mechanism from orbit.
We have a fleet waiting. According to the station blueprints, there is an old transport shuttle sitting in bay four.
You have exactly three minutes before the automated backup power kicks in and seals it off again. "
Pol grabs Selene by the waist, and Ty-Rok scoops up Lucy like a sack of potatoes. The ground panels are peeling back, revealing the actual metal structure of the satellite.
"The emergency shuttles are down the starboard corridor," Pol yells over the sirens, his tattoos flashing under the red backup lights. "I recognize this space station model. I had a job on one like this, years ago.”
"Get us the fuck out of here," I yell back, Vael tossing me over his shoulder unceremoniously.
We’re a ridiculous parade of three winged aliens carrying three filthy humans.
We scramble into the hangar just as the artificial gravity begins to sputter. I begin to float off Vael’s shoulder, and his wings pump behind him, momentum driving us forward.
Pol slams his hand into the manual override of a blocky escape shuttle.
Lucy is crying, and I can’t tell if she’s scared or relieved, but I’m still too frozen with fear Ken’s going to appear again to do anything but let Vael manhandle me.
The hatch seals behind us with a pneumatic hiss, and Vael clamps me down into a bulky metal chair.
"Hold on, my love," Vael growls, locking the harness over my shoulders.
My love. He hasn’t called me that before, and I blink up at him. He settles in the chair next to me, his big red wings at an awkward angle as he tries to strap himself in.
Pol and Selene are in the cockpit, Ty-Rok holding Lucy as she continues to cry, a soft mewling sound that reminds me just how badly I’ve fucked up. Another glance at Selene and Pol show that the two of them do know what the fuck they’re doing, and I let myself have a kernel of hope.
I reach my hand out, Vael’s closing over mine.
The automated launch sequence hits, the pod plunging into darkness, lights flashing all along the flight panels. The engines roar, the hangar doors blow open, and we rocket out of the hellish space station straight into the void.
I think I preferred the tequila-drenched version of my first space voyage to this.