Epilogue #4
I did want that. If I’d missed a threat of this magnitude, another hidden base, what else did I not know about?
How many bases did the Hive had scattered throughout Coalition space?
A Hive installation like this one could wipe out an entire star system in a matter of weeks.
Millions, perhaps billions of civilian lives were at risk, and it was my job to protect them.
Fuck this asshole and his refusal to cooperate. He thought he knew what I wanted. He had no fucking clue. I was a warrior who learned from his mistakes. A Prillon male who would do anything to protect his people, no matter how vile the task. Anything.
I nodded to Doctor Mersan where he stood next to our prisoner’s shoulder.
A Prillon warrior, like me, he served the I.C.
now. Like Mersan, I, too, trained as a doctor first. I had long since given up using my skills for anything other than hunting and killing as many Coalition enemies as possible.
Threats from within or without, I hunted them down.
My entire being focused on one task, one goal: ending this fucking war.
Mersan stepped close to Oberon and raised the RGR device he held to the prisoner’s chest. He activated the small wand. Normally used to heal, my team had made very deliberate, specific modifications to the programming of the standard ReGen wand.
I watched, impatient, as Oberon’s skin dissolved, the cells separating from the traitor’s muscles laying beneath. The resulting bloody ooze slid down over his abdomen like melted wax, leaving a raw wound the size of my palm.
I preferred not to take things this far, but we’d been interrogating the warrior for weeks.
Sleep deprivation. Beatings. Nothing to eat and just enough water to keep him alive.
We injected him with medications specifically designed to break his mind.
Loosen his tongue. Still, he gave us nothing.
Not one fucking bit of useful information.
I supposed his fortitude could be attributed to the Arcas bloodline.
This traitor’s cousin—Thomar—had not only survived Hive integration but broken free of Hive mind control.
On his own. Something previously believed impossible.
No one resisted the Hive, other than Atlan warlords.
Most Atlans died before the Hive could gain control of the massive fighter that dwelled within their males.
Thank the gods. Atlan beasts were feared on the battlefield without the added strength and speed Hive implanted technology would give them.
My prisoner was no Atlan. He was a Prillon warrior, through and through. The Arcas bloodline had been restored to its rightful place on our home planet. His family was one of the oldest in our records. Noble. Fierce. Before the system of Prime rule, this traitor’s ancestors had been kings.
I stood quietly, waiting for Oberon to respond to the loss of his flesh.
It would heal quickly. But this fucker needed to suffer for a few minutes.
Somehow, this Prillon had access to information I did not.
Vital information about our enemies. Information I would kill to acquire.
If Oberon did not break soon, there were other, more aggressive measures to be taken.
Just two months ago, Oberon had been a loyal warrior, a vital part of the Coalition Fleet.
According to his military record, he was an excellent pilot and calm under fire.
His battle statistics were impressive. He’d received multiple commendations.
If I’d seen his record before, I would have considered recruiting him to serve in the I.C. He’d been the perfect soldier.
What fucking changed?
Sentiment. Emotion overruling reason. Love made him weak.
I glanced at Mersan, who nodded in response to my unspoken question.
The wound had been open long enough. We didn’t want our prisoner to go into shock.
Nor did we want to give him enough time to adapt to the pain.
His agony needed to be fresh. I gave a nearly imperceptible dip of my chin.
The doctor reversed the energy field of the RGR—turning it back to its original purpose—healing wounds, not causing them.
Mersan held the RGR over the wound. The skin surrounding the exposed muscle activated at once, wiggling across the gap, creating new skin cells until Oberon’s golden brown chest looked like it never had a scratch.
I watched. I waited. Nothing but impatience flooded my system. This was one more duty I must perform. A job. One on a long list. Nothing more and nothing less. I didn’t have time to second guess my decisions. Delays cost lives. Oberon’s refusal to cooperate could kill.
Oberon lifted his striking yellow yes to stare at me, one brow lifted in a silent taunt. “You can burn all the skin from my bones, Helion. I don’t fucking care. I’m going after her.”
“You are chasing a ghost. Continue, Doctor.”
Mersan deftly melted the skin from Oberon’s left leg. Long minutes passed. My prisoner didn’t say a word. I sighed. Time to heal him and repeat the entire process.
Perhaps we should apply the device to Oberon’s cock. That would loosen his fucking tongue.
The door behind me slid open.
“Commander?”
I turned around to acknowledge the Elite Hunter I’d assigned to guard the door—and prevent interruption. “I asked not to be disturbed.”
“Of course, sir. My apologies. But there is an urgent message from the transport room. One I do not believe you would want to miss.”
“What is it?” If the bureaucrats’ idea of urgent was another overlong political update, or a Coalition brief on battleship deployments, I didn’t want to hear it. Of all the worlds we protected, who the fuck did the citizens think gave the leader of the entire Coalition Fleet that information?
“It’s from Prillon Prime, sir. From the capital.”
Prime Nial then. Asking for yet another favor?
No. Not asking. Demanding. Two beings alive had the right to my immediate attention: one, a female I had wronged beyond all redemption, the other, the leader of my home planet.
I wouldn’t ignore Prime Nial. He was the one Prillon with enough power to fuck up my entire life’s work.
One word from him could dissolve the Intelligence Core completely.
Retire the program. He wasn’t a politician, he’d been a warrior first. Taken and tortured by the Hive.
Integrated. He’d survived. That alone earned him my respect. “Very well. What is it?”
The male stepped inside and held out a small tablet. He knew better than to say anything of import to me in front of a prisoner.
I glanced down, expecting to see a short, brief message asking for gods only knew what this time.
Instead, there was one word from the Prime, and a bit of data from the transport network the Coalition used to travel long distances.
Congratulations.
Transport immediately. Interstellar Bride Willow Baylor. Human. Earth.
Matched Mate: Commander Zarren Helion
What. The. Fuck. “This is a mistake.” I handed the tablet back.
I looked up to see Oberon Arcas watching me, his expression calm.
He didn’t so much as flinch as Doctor Mersan dissolved an ever larger area of skin from his back and shoulder.
Fucking stubborn Prillon. He refused to accept the truth.
My best Hunter, Kayn, had tracked his sister for weeks and felt nothing.
She was dead. Only reason an Elite Everian Hunter couldn’t track someone was because they were no longer trackable. No life force. No energy. Gone.
Oberon needed to accept the fact that his beloved sister had been taken by the Hive and those evil fuckers killed her. I needed to destroy the Hive base before they slaughtered any more people under my protection.
He would break. He was going to tell me every fucking secret he had.
“I will be indisposed for quite some time.”
Too bad the cocktail of mind-altering substances we’d already given Oberon seemed to have zero effect. Mersan was afraid to give him more. Said it might kill him. Unfortunately, I agreed.
Fucking Arcas family. Too strong for their own good, every damn one.
“And if it’s not a mistake, Commander? What should we do when the… guest arrives?”
I shrugged. “Make our guest comfortable. Be… accommodating. I will clear up the misunderstanding when I am finished here.”
“Is there anyone else who should be notified?” He meant, did I have a second, another Prillon male who had agreed to protect and care for my mate?
Prillon warriors always claimed their mate together.
In the event one male perished in the war, the second remained to protect and care for their mate and any children.
“No.” I had no mate. Wanted none. I was not even in the system. I had not thought to burden another warrior with the solitude of my choice. I had no need of a second, because I would not take a bride, not while the war continued.
“If the guest inquires, sir, how long might you be?”
Mersan healed the skin covering Oberon’s back and moved the RGR to the skin of Oberon’s thigh.
Our prisoner didn’t even flinch as nearly a third of his muscles were exposed.
Fucking Prillon wasn’t even tied down, the lack of bonds irrelevant.
He knew there was no way out of this room, let alone off my ship. My ship. My rules.
He would break. The female bride, whoever she was, wasn’t mine. She would have to wait.
“As long as it takes.”