Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
T he sterile brightness of the prison cell was blinding, reflecting off the smooth, metallic bulkheads and amplifying the emptiness around Julia. The only furniture was a cold metal cot bolted to the deck, its thin mattress offering no comfort. She sat on the edge of it, her restrained hands loosely clasped in front of her, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to focus.
She needed to compartmentalize—to file away the grief threatening to drown her. The image of Calstar’s lifeless eyes, the powerful blows Coleridge had inflicted on Roan, and the destruction of the beautiful floating world of Plateau haunted the edges of her mind, but grief was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Not now. Survival required focus, and Roan needed her. She clenched her jaw, channeling the analytical part of her mind—the scientist within herself that thrived on data, logic, and control.
Seeing Sergi had sparked a flicker of hope she desperately clung to. She knew him better than most—his hidden credentials, his skills tucked beneath a veneer of casual arrogance. Officially, he was part of the Gliese team. Unofficially, he was FSB, a spy for the Russian Federal Security Service Bureau, and an expert in weapons, infiltration, and survival. Her father had insisted on his inclusion in the project, much to Admiral Greenberg’s disapproval. But her father had been right. As always. Now, that decision might save her life.
She allowed herself a brief smile, imagining Mei here beside her. Two spies would certainly have made things easier. Mei’s persona was Sergi’s mirror image, only for the Chinese government. Her slight frame and innocent features a perfect camouflage for how deadly she actually was in reality. Mei had been her choice.
The hiss of the door unlocking snapped her out of her thoughts. She stood, her spine straight, schooling her features into an indifferent mask. General Coleridge Landais entered first, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight. The blood on his hands and the dark stains marring his sleeve didn’t go unnoticed.
Julia’s glance flicked over him with a clinical detachment, as if observing a specimen under a microscope. His posture was rigid, a rigidity that spoke of someone clinging desperately to the illusion of control. His uniform was immaculate, meticulously pressed, as if neatness could compensate for moral decay. The lines etched into his face weren’t carved by wisdom but by years of simmering rage and unchecked arrogance. His eyes held no curiosity, only the cold calculation of a man convinced he already knew everything worth knowing. That was his flaw—the inability to adapt, to grow beyond the brittle armor of authority he’d wrapped himself in. A leader stagnant in his belief, brittle and fragile beneath the facade of power.
“What have you done to Roan?” Julia demanded, her voice sharp, cutting through the sterile air like a blade.
Coleridge’s eyes narrowed, his disdain clear. “My son knew better than to betray me. He will die by my hand for his deceit.”
Julia tilted her chin slightly, her gaze hard and unwavering. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”
“I want to know everything you told my son,” he snapped, ignoring her question.
Her lips curved into a cold, measured smile. “My name is Dr. Julia Marksdale. I am a Mission Specialist for the Project Gliese 581g interplanetary exploration team. That, sir, is the limit of the information I gave your son and the limit of the information I will give you.”
Coleridge’s jaw clenched. “I want to know how you got here, where you came from, and if there are any others coming.”
“We arrived on a spaceship,” she replied evenly. “That’s typically how interplanetary travel works. As for where I came from, I’d need to know our current coordinates relative to my world. Since that information isn’t available, I can’t provide an accurate answer. And yes, there are others coming.”
Her disdainful glance flickered briefly over Coleridge’s shoulder, landing on the two soldiers standing silently behind him. Recognition sparked, but she schooled her expression, returning her attention to the General with a serene smile.
“In fact,” she added softly, “I believe they may have already arrived.”
Coleridge frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the soldiers. His eyes met Sergi’s for a brief, tense moment—long enough for realization to flicker. His hand moved toward his weapon.
Sergi was faster.
Before Coleridge could react, Sergi’s laser rifle was up. But it wasn’t Sergi who struck first.
Julia moved with precision born from instinct and suppressed rage. She kicked Coleridge squarely between the legs, the satisfying connection with the soft, vulnerable part of his body was followed by his guttural groan as he collapsed to his knees, clutching himself.
“A man should never treat his son the way you have,” she hissed, grabbing the front of his uniform to keep him from face-planting onto the deck with her bound hands. “Now, what have you done to Roan?”
Coleridge’s face was twisted in pain and fury. “I… will… kill… you.”
Julia pushed him back with a defiant toss of her head. “Good luck with that.”
Sergi snorted with amusement and stepped forward. The butt of his rifle connected with Coleridge’s temple, and the General crumpled, unconscious. Blood trickled from a gash on his head, pooling beneath him.
“You blew my cover,” Sergi muttered, giving her a pointed look of cheerful admonishment before he bent to disarm Coleridge.
Julia raised an eyebrow when Sergei pocketed the weapon Coleridge had used to kill Calstar along with another device he took from his waist.
“He had blood on his hands. I didn’t want him to add mine to the collection.”
Julia warily watched as the young woman she had briefly caught a glimpse of earlier stepped forward. She held up a key card.
“I’ll get those cuffs. Nice kick, by the way.”
“Thanks. Mei taught me that move,” Julia replied, rubbing her wrists as the cuffs fell to the floor next to Coleridge’s body. She glanced at Sergi, her voice softening. “Have you heard anything about her? Is she alive? Roanna told me that four of us had survived. She described Ash and Josh, but I haven’t heard anything about Mei.”
Sergi’s face gentled. “Ash and Josh are very much alive. Josh is leading the fight against the Legion. As far as we know, Mei survived. There was a video of her… but, we aren’t positive of her location. Ash and Kella are looking for her.”
Julia exhaled, relief flooding her. She didn’t know who Kella was, but if Ash trusted the alien, then whoever he or she was, they must be on their side — she hoped. Her eyes darkened with concern as she stared down at the blood on Coleridge—Roan’s blood.
“We need to find Roan. We can’t leave without him.”
The woman next to Sergi snorted. “You mean General Roan Landais? The Legion’s golden boy? Why would we risk our necks for him?”
Julia’s jaw set. “I won’t leave him. His grandfather saved my life. The last thing Calstar asked of me was that I help Roan,” Julia lied, not wanting to admit her true feelings—yet. She looked back at Sergi. “I promised him, Sergi.”
“I’m pretty sure he is next door,” Sergi conceded with a sigh.
The woman turned to glare at him. “You do know that the man she wants us to help is General Roan Landais, who is a general of the Legion. There are only two other men I know of who are feared as much as he is – and they are both related to him,” she argued.
“She made a promise, dusha moya. How can I tell her no?” Sergi asked, looking at her with a mixture of pleading and teasing.
“Argh! I hate it when you look at me like that! If he so much as twitches wrong, I’ll put a disintegration disk on him,” the woman hotly vowed.
“And I’ll press the button,” Sergi added with a grin.
The woman didn’t return Sergi’s smile. Instead, she lifted the laser rifle in her hand and shot Coleridge in the chest for good measure. Julia reminded herself never to piss the woman off as she watched Coleridge, who had slid his hand to a laser pistol under his jacket, from its hidden spot and was about to fire on them, slump back to the floor.
She reached down and pulled the pistol from his limp fingers before straightening as the door hissed open. Sergi and the woman released a curse and swung around—ready. Instead of opening fire, Sergi stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Roan when Roan swayed precariously in the doorway.
Julia’s breath caught. The sight of him… it was worse than she had imagined. His face was swollen, one eye dark with bruising, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, nose, and cheek. His posture was rigid, a man barely holding himself upright through sheer force of will. The crimson stain spreading across his shirt told a story of violence she hadn’t witnessed but could feel down to her bones.
A sharp, unfamiliar ache surged through her chest—rage, horror, and something else she couldn’t name. She wanted to do more than just kick Coleridge; she wanted to tear him apart piece by piece for what he had done. The woman’s shot to his chest had been far too merciful.
Julia rushed to Roan’s side, her hands trembling slightly as she reached to support him. The overwhelming need to get him to safety surged through her, to assess his injuries, to do something… anything to ease his pain. But she knew she couldn’t. Not now. The frustration of her helplessness made her jaw tighten, feeding her determination. They had to escape. Not just for her sake, but for Roan’s.
Roan looked down at his father’s crumpled form. “What happened to him?”
“I kicked him, Sergi knocked him out, and—” She lifted an eyebrow at the woman.
“La’Rue, I’m with Sergi,” La’Rue answered.
“La’Rue shot him,” Julia continued matter-of-factly, wrapping her arm around Roan’s waist to steady him.
Roan grunted. “We need to get off this ship.”
“Suggestions?” Sergi asked.
Roan gave a grim smile. “Yeah. Just need someone to hack the mainframe.”
“I know the perfect robot,” La’Rue answered, pulling a commlink from her pocket. “H, we need your help, little guy.”
* * *
The pain was a dull roar beneath Roan’s ribs, burning with every breath. He clenched his jaw as Sergi and Julia guided him to the cot, lowering him onto the thin mattress. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish, a sharp contrast to the urgency buzzing in the room.
His father was dead. There was no triumph in that. Only the weight of what came next.
They had to move—soon.
Coleridge’s absence wouldn’t go unnoticed for long. Roan had prepared for the possibility of capture before leaving Jeslean, but planning for it wasn’t the same as living it. The bruises along his ribs were proof enough of that.
Breathe. Focus.
His mind pushed past the haze of pain, running through contingencies. The master key hidden in his sleeve had been the first. A safeguard.
The second was riskier—a modified version of the software the Ancient, Josh, had used to disable his warship. Roan had spent weeks adapting it, embedding his own authorizations. His father’s arrogance had left him vulnerable, assuming Roan would always be under his control.
That arrogance had cost Coleridge his life. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean they were safe.
Roan’s gaze shifted. His attention, though, was on Julia. She was kneeling beside him, hands steady, but he could see it—the tension in her jaw, the flicker of something raw beneath her calm exterior. Horror flashed across her face when she saw the extent of his injuries, quickly buried beneath a tightly controlled fury.
Not at me.
At Coleridge.
She cared.
That realization hit harder than any of his father’s blows. They all tensed when the door to the cell swished open again. La’Rue entered, controlling a large cart.
“We need to get a move on,” La’Rue said, her voice low and urgent. “The guard will be changing soon. Right now, the one manning the post is too lazy to care. The next one might not be.”
Roan exhaled slowly. She was right.
“There’s nothing I can do until we find real medical supplies,” Julia added, helping him sit. Pain lanced through his ribs, sharp and unforgiving, but he gritted his teeth and forced the sound down.
“You have a lock on my freighter?” La’Rue asked Sergi.
“Let me help you.”
Sergi nodded before bending to lend him an arm. Roan shook his head—and immediately regretted it. The room swam as his vision blurred. He probably had a concussion.
“I can do this,” Roan muttered, pushing through his pain. He refused to be dead weight.
La’Rue crossed her arms, saying nothing, but Roan caught the flicker of reluctant respect in her eyes. That was enough.
Climbing over the side was no simple task. By the time he settled in the cart, a fine coating of sweat covered his battered body and spots danced in front of his eyes. Sergi helped Julia climb in beside him.
The small space forced them close, Julia’s arm bracing him as the cart rumbled forward. Her warmth was steady, grounding.
Roan closed his eyes for a breath, forcing himself to absorb the moment. The pain, the exhaustion, the mission—all of it faded into something quieter.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
He was supposed to die in that cell.
He exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. “You saved me.”
Julia’s grip tightened slightly. “Not just me.”
Roan’s lips twitched. He felt the pull of unconsciousness, but refused to give into it. Instead, he embraced the strength in knowing they had a chance.
* * *
The journey through the warship stretched into eternity . Roan stayed silent, keeping his body rigid despite the pain, forcing himself to be aware of every turn, every stop, every sound of approaching footsteps.
Only once did they hit a delay, one that Sergi handled with unsettling ease. Roan wasn’t sure what had happened to the soldier stationed near the service panel, but he doubted the man would be reporting for duty any time soon.
When they finally reached the docking bay, a soft beep filled the air.
“H, open the lower hatch,” Sergi ordered.
The panel slid apart, revealing the compact yet efficient interior of La’Rue’s freighter. The air inside was warmer, carrying the scent of machine oil and aged metal.
Sergi helped Julia out first before turning to Roan.
The moment his feet touched the floor, his body swayed , but Julia was already there, wrapping her arm around his waist to steady him.
He muttered a curse, but she ignored it.
“You’re too pale,” she muttered, eyes scanning his injuries.
“You’re bossy,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind it.
She sighed. “Shut up and let me help you.”
Sergi and La’Rue led them through the narrow corridor of the ship, taking him directly to the medical bay.
The moment he hit the narrow bed, Julia was at his side, cutting away what remained of his shirt.
La’Rue handed Julia an unfamiliar-looking medical device.
Julia frowned at it. “What?—?”
La’Rue sighed. “Maybe I should do this. We need to know how to get off this ship without getting blown up or having a thousand fighters using us for target practice. General Landais appears to be the only one who knows how to accomplish that at the moment.”
Roan turned his head, trying to dig into the pocket of his trousers , but Julia swatted his hand away.
An amused, pain-laced smirk crossed his lips. “You’re good at slapping my hand away.”
“Shut up,” she muttered, pulling the small data disk from his pocket.
La’Rue wrinkled her nose. “That is just so wrong on too many levels to mention. He’s flirting while lying here about to bleed out and we could be captured again at any moment.”
Sergi stepped forward, taking the chip. “Where does this need to go?”
Roan’s eyes found him. “One of my former crew members helped another of your kind shut down my Battle Cruiser with a similar program. I’ve modified this with my access codes. It should initiate a full systems shutdown, forcing the crew into emergency lockdown.”
La’Rue’s brows rose. “And how do we get it into the system without getting killed?”
Roan clenched his jaw, forcing his body to sit upright. “I’ll do it.”
Julia gently pushed him back down before he could get two inches off the cot.
“No, you won’t,” she snapped. “Sergi is good at what he does.”
Sergi shot a wary glance at Julia, who was looking at him with an expectant expression. He shrugged and grinned.
La’Rue snorted. “I like you,” she muttered at Julia before turning back to Roan. “What about H? He can get into places most people can’t.”
Roan frowned. “Who is H?”
La’Rue grinned. “Only the smartest, sneakiest little rust bucket in the galaxy. And lucky for us, he’s part of the crew.”
Sergi nodded. “I’ll second that—on him being a rust bucket.”
La’Rue playfully punched Sergi in the arm before she turned to Julia. “Make sure the General doesn’t move or touch anything. We’ll be back.”
Roan muttered something under his breath, but Julia was already adjusting the medical scanner.
She didn’t meet his eyes, but he could feel the tension in her.
He exhaled slowly. “You were scared for me.”
She glanced at him then, just briefly, but enough.
“So were you,” she murmured.
Roan closed his eyes. “Yes. You can see why.”
And that was terrifying.