Chapter 10 Orion #2
“The Nebula Gems?” Fobos blinks, then tilts his head back and laughs, and I’m worried I made some kind of misstep. The sound cracks through the silence of the library and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Fobos pulls his hand away from the case and I close it, locking it tightly and drawing it close to my body. I hate having the idol out of the stasis cabinet almost as much as I hate having it outside the temple where it belongs.
His unnerving smile returning, Fobos beckons me deeper into the library, guiding us toward a back wall.
Set into the wall are small metal doors, almost undetectable to the eye.
Fobos places his hand against one of the metal panels and a soft blue light emerges from beneath, scanning his handprint with a low hum.
A small vault pops open, revealing a medium-sized black case. My heart thuds to a stop in my chest.
Offering me that same predatory, suggestive grin, he opens the case.
The Nebula Gems sparkle in the light, casting soft blue-green rainbows around the room.
In the center of the necklace sits the prize of the jewels, an egg-sized blue diamond so deep in color, it looks black.
The air leaves my lungs in a soft whoosh as I stare at the priceless treasures that have been lost to my people for generations.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” Fobos says, plucking one of the blue gemstone earrings from the case and holding it up to his ear.
“I’m told the Xylothians believe Father Darkness fashioned these stones from the tears he wept when he murdered the Solar Mother.
He later bestowed them upon Xylothia as penance for taking her from them.
Silly story, really,” he says, taking note of my interest. “Since they just look like plain old diamonds and sapphires to me.”
“Change of plans, Ranger,” Lyra barks in the earpiece. “Knock out that son of a bitch and take the jewels. They’re practically yours, anyway.”
I grit my teeth, trying to focus on Fobos and block out Lyra’s unhelpful snark.
Fobos peers down at his claws, sighing in what seems to be exaggerated boredom. “I take it you’re interested in a trade, yes? The idol for the gems.”
His eyes cut to the case at my side and my grip tightens reflexively.
“I’m not interested in a trade, though the gems are exquisite,” I say slowly, trying to stall for time. Lyra is supposed to be creating a distraction right about now, so I can scan the vault and make my escape.
Fobos narrows his eyes.
“What else would you offer me?” I ask, attempting to appear imperious.
The sheen of greed is back in his eyes.
“Four million credits,” he replies, waving a hand dismissively.
“Hang on, Ranger, I’m having a small problem with the grenade.
It’s not…dammit, why won’t this dumb thing start?
” Lyra mutters, more to herself than to me.
The mention of her Velusian grenade encountering technical difficulties has beads of sweat forming on my brow. I can only hope Fobos doesn’t notice.
“Four million? That’s an insult! I had to loot the Celestial Temple to find this thing,” I scoff.
Anger vibrates off of Fobos like a string plucked on an instrument.
“Five, then,” he grits out.
I snort in derision. “Clearly, you’re not interested in what I have to offer, otherwise you wouldn’t bother with a sum so low. Beyond the cultural significance, this is the largest sample of enaurium in existence.”
A vein begins to throb in Fobos’ forehead. “Ten million.”
“Oh, honestly, now you are wasting my time. I think I’ll just take it back to my original buyer. He was offering me fifty,” I say with a sigh.
“What buyer could offer you fifty million credits?” Fobos snarls. “No one this side of Eternia has that kind of money unless we deem it so.”
“Perhaps the Triumvirate knows less than they think,” I say.
With that sentence, Fobos’s entire demeanor shifts. His anger melts like the last snowfall before a spring sun.
“I see,” he says. The wicked grin that splits his face dislodges something in my gut and a warning klaxon blares in my head. “Tell me, have you had a chance to spend any time in the casino? Perhaps a circuit on the floor while you consider my offer.”
“I never gamble,” I say darkly. “Unless I’m certain of the odds.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Fobos replies, deftly pulling a plasma pistol from beneath his jacket faster than I can blink. “You’re taking a pretty big risk in coming here, Xylothian.”
Panic freezes me in place.
“Shit,” Lyra swears. “Fuck the distraction. I’m coming to you. Hang on, Ranger. Play for time!”
“What did you call me?” I ask, masking my fear with confusion.
“Oh yes,” Fobos chuckles. “I know a Xylothian when I see one. Now, before I relieve you of your little case there—yes, go ahead and set it on the floor, very gently, if you please—I’d like to know how you came to be here.
Who are you working for? And how did you know about the Nebula Gems?
Only a few people outside my circle knew about them, and those that did were too smart and too afraid of me to open their mouths about it. ”
He flicks the safety off and the high-pitched whine of the plasma pistol charging tears my gaze from his.
“Don’t you tell him a fucking thing!” Lyra huffs in my ear. I can hear the clattering of the casino floor and furious shouts over her panting. “I’m almost there—just make some shit up and distract him!”
“I may be a Xylothian, but I’m still a dealer,” I insist. “I came here in good faith to see what you would offer me for the idol. My people are dying and I’ll be damned if I let anyone else make a buck off of my ancestors’ heritage before I do. Sixty million credits and the idol is yours.”
The words are bitter on my tongue, and I know Fobos won’t believe them. The timbre of my bluster wanes in the face of that steady hand on his plasma pistol, aiming straight for my head.
“I have a better idea,” Fobos sneers. “Leave the idol and get the fuck out of my casino, and I’ll decide if I’m going to blast your ship to pieces from here. You’ve got a fifty-fifty shot of making it out of the atmosphere. How’s that for knowing the odds?”
“Let’s just take it easy,” I say, stepping back from Fobos. “I only came here to see what you might offer for the idol. But maybe you’re right—a trade would be fine.”
“That offer expired with my patience,” Fobos growls. “I’m being generous and offering you the chance to leave with your life. I could simply shoot you and take the idol now, but I don’t feel like cleaning your blood off my boots.”
“Please,” I say, trying to keep the panic from my voice. I don’t want to die here, but leaving the idol behind will be a fate worse than death for me—for my people. Even for Lyra. “I think we can be reasonable here. There’s much about the idol you don’t know. The gems, too.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fascinating as your legends are, I doubt there’s much you could say that would interest me.”
I hear a shout and a deep grunt over the earpiece—Lyra is fighting with someone. The scuffle grows louder, the sounds of flesh and bone colliding making it difficult to focus on what I planned to say. Tamping down the fear I feel for Lyra’s safety, I force myself to nod.
“It’s true,” I say. “In fact, I can tell you who one of the other interested buyers is.”
Fobos raises his brows and waves the plasma pistol impatiently.
“Very well. I know many seek this particular prize, but I’m curious who might come knocking on my door trying to find it,” he grumbles. He raises the pistol again—his finger curled around the trigger.
“Brill!” I practically shout. “Brill of Ooneryx.”
“Son of a bi—” Lyra’s curse abruptly cuts off with a hiss of static.
If I’d thought Fobos was angry at my incompetent negotiating, it’s nothing compared to his expression of unadulterated rage hearing Brill’s name.
The commotion over my earpiece escalates, reaching a climax with a sheer, ear-piercing scream followed by several seconds of deafening silence. My heart stops, ice flooding my veins.
Lyra!
“Brill of Ooneryx,” Fobos spits, his golden skin turning a rusty orange color. “He doesn’t have fifty million credits to spend. And if he sends that filthy, wretched harlot back out here…”
Suddenly, the door to the vault opens on a hiss of pressurized air, and Lyra stands in the threshold, holding the bloody, severed hand of the enforcer, who lies in a crumpled heap behind her.
Her hair is a tangle, and her skin is coated with sweat and blood I can only hope isn’t hers.
The grin of triumph lights up her eyes in a way that makes that worrying tingle at the base of my spine ratchet up again.
Relief at seeing her safe almost makes my knees buckle.
“‘Filthy, wretched harlot’? Aw, you wouldn’t be talking about little ol’ me now, would you, Fobos, baby? That’s certainly not what you said last time I was here,” Lyra says with a saucy wink. She tosses the hand back to the enforcer on the ground and closes the door behind her.
Fobos gapes, his eyes going wide and his orange-hued anger deepening to bright scarlet.
“You!” he bellows.
Irritation bordering on anger explodes in my brain.
“Oh, for the love of—you slept with him, too?” I snap, jealously igniting my temper.
“Yet another regrettable chore,” she replies, her lip curling in distaste. “And rather underwhelming.”
Fobos swears. A beat too late he realizes he’s still aiming the plasma pistol at me, and he swings to fire at Lyra. She ducks behind a bookshelf, muttering over comms the whole time.
“I can’t believe you told him about Brill! You could have given him any name in the stars-damned galaxy, but no, you had to actually give him the real one! You are the worst criminal I’ve ever had to work with,” she grumbles. “You could help me out here, Ranger!”
Shots sear through stacks of books and shatter the crystalline cases, leaving jagged shards littering the floor. With Fobos distracted, now’s my chance.
Shaking myself out of my shocked state, I turn to Fobos and surge forward, reaching for his pistol and knocking him off-balance. Before he can recover, I drive my fist into his jaw.
“I can’t believe you slept with this creep,” I growl back at her as Fobos stumbles backward. “Do you just fly around the galaxy seducing unworthy men?”
She laughs at that. “Show me a worthy one and maybe I’ll stop flying around the galaxy looking for ‘em.”
Fobos swings a fist at me but it’s slow and clumsy—easy to dodge. I crouch low to kick his knee out, then hit him again in the temple as he falls. The brutal blow splits my knuckles open and finally renders him unconscious. I shake my fist out as Lyra comes to stand next to me.
“That could have gone better,” I say, eyeing her soon-to-be black eye, the small cut across her brow, and split lip. That foreign impulse to soothe and protect rises, but I quell it before I can reach for her.
“It could have gone worse, too,” she says with a shrug.
“But you’re in big trouble now. Fobos will tell Brill you dropped his name.
The Void Stalkers will be on us faster than flies on shit and they’ll have confirmation that we have the idol in our possession.
We’re on a ticking clock right now, Ranger, so get your evidence and let’s get the fuck out of here. ”
As if on cue, several angry shouts erupt from the hallway beyond, followed by aggressive banging and hammering on the door.
I pull out the holocorder and start scanning the room, hurrying between the aisles of books and treasured artifacts.
When I finish, Lyra is already standing by the door clutching Fobos’ plasma pistol, and I almost miss the flicker of anxiety on her face.
“I jammed the door lock on my way in, so I think it’ll be a few minutes before they can get in, but I don’t imagine it’ll hold for long. And who knows how long Fobos will be unconscious,” she says with a grimace.
“What’s your plan for getting out of here?” I ask, tucking the holocorder back into the inner pocket of my suit.
“I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it…” she says, holding up the Velusian grenade.
“Oh no,” I groan. “Tell me there’s another way.”
The barrage of noise against the outer door ceases for a moment, only to be replaced by the soft crackle and bright light of a plasma torch cutting through the thick metal of the door.
“Nope,” Lyra says with an apologetic shrug. “Just…try to hold your breath.”
A hand appears through the hole the plasma torch had made, and Lyra fires once.
As soon as the hand retreats, she presses a button on the grenade and lobs it through the hole.
We duck with the flash and bang of the explosion, but she’s up in an instant, tugging me through the broken door.
Several security goons are slumped in the hallway, blinking dazedly.
A fine mist of pink particles hangs in the air, drifting lazily through the narrow passage.
I lift my tie up to my nose to keep from inhaling the potent vellia chemicals, but the hallway seems to stretch impossibly before us.
“Let’s move!” Lyra shouts, pulling me through the chaos and confusion.
We manage to clear the security guards, but something latches onto my ankle.
I look down to see one of the guards sprawled out, holding onto me and staring up with a look of disoriented desire.
In yanking my ankle free from his grip, I stumble—going down hard behind Lyra.
The fall knocks the wind out of me, and I reflexively suck in a breath when Lyra turns to drag me forward.
Lyra’s scent fills my nostrils—that intoxicating fragrance of sun-warmed flowers and summer rain that I’ve come to crave.
In an instant, I slam into a wall of lust that would bring me to my knees if I hadn’t already fallen.
Suddenly, it’s impossible to focus on anything but her. Lyra. My Lyra.
Mine.