Six
RENJIK STOOD NEXT to Willow as they listened to the Scozid announcement. The command center on Lannidies was small and packed with the entire war council. They were at the back of the room, since everyone else was smashed together in front of the view screen.
Willow’s arms were folded, Na’ashq’ii glowing at her throat. Her eyes were closed, but she had the focus of someone who was exhausted but determined to be present.
The screen showed Kerrak’s central habitat dome.
The view switched to a gathering hall inside, showing a crude stage in front of civilians in ordered rows.
The workers who had been sent by their government.
They watched the stage with the stillness of people who’d learned obedience was the only way to survive.
A Scozid representative mounted the stage and rose on its tentacles. Its words were translated, but Renjik listened to the cadence because Willow had taught him it mattered.
It droned on about a dominance display, a noble sacrifice they all would willingly endure. Beneath the translated words, a second rhythm clicked through the broadcast in precise intervals. Willow went very still.
Renjik scanned the crowd, but their backs were to the camera so there was no way to ascertain their expressions. He saw a few sway before their neighbors swiftly propped them up.
“That’s the preamble. The speech is the fuse. When they reach the final proof cadence, the reservoir opens.”
The transmission ended and silence fell over the room. It only lasted a moment.
The highest ranked commander pointed to a tactical map. “We can launch a strike now. Coat Kerrak in tuppu and their weapons test will fail.”
“Tuppu hasn’t been tested as a preventative on a widespread scale.” Razili’s voice carried weight. “Not to mention, if the structure is damaged, the containment system could rupture before we neutralize anything.”
“We can deploy it in a narrow radius.”
Willow’s voice was quiet but strong. “And if we cause the dome’s environmental systems to fail, everyone inside suffocates.”
The commander sneered at her and Renjik fisted his hands to keep from throttling him.
“What is your plan, then?”
Willow leaned over the map. “A small team can infiltrate quietly. Disable the containment system to prevent it from being deployed and coat it in tuppu to render it inert. Broadcast a warning to the civilians to evacuate once the freha enhek is neutralized.”
“You want to send troops onto Kerrak when it’s crawling with Scozid?”
She sighed. “No. I want to sit on a beach and sip a drink with an umbrella in it. Sadly, I’m instead forced to argue for the lives of innocents.”
Renjik almost smiled.
Det’ae looked to him and the acting Ka’atari chief. “Can it be done?”
The chief looked to him, so he answered. “Yes. A small team can enter through the mining dock here,” he pointed to it on the map. “The Scozid will secure primary airlocks and command corridors. They won’t bother with abandoned ore processing levels.”
“Those levels are unstable.”
He wasn’t sure who spoke, but they were correct. “Yes, they are.”
“Oh good,” Willow mumbled. “I was worried there was a safer approach.”
He ignored her, knowing what came next. “I’ll lead the team.”
“No.”
He didn’t look at her. He knew he might fold if he did. He could see the rigid line of her spine and the set of her jaw in his peripheral vision.
She poked him in the chest until he looked at her.
“You aren’t going without me.”
“You aren’t trained for combat.” He tried to be reasonable.
“I’m trained in Scozid behavior, cadence, and culture. Na’ashq’ii can smell weaponized hubris. We can hear the activation cadence before a combat trained warrior knows a speech became a weapon.”
Na’ashq’ii waved two tentacles.
“Absolutely not.” The commander strangled out, his face purple with fury.
Willow didn’t look away from Renjik. “Without me, you may miss the cadence shift that turns their little theater performance into a deployment command.”
“You could die.”
“That’s been a running theme lately.”
His lips thinned.
Her voice softened. “You know I’m right.”
He hated that she was.
Det’ae’s talons clicked against the stone floor. “I agree with Dr. Benally. She and her pet are too valuable to be left behind.”
Renjik cut his eyes at the Premiere.
“With full protective gear and personal tuppu canisters.” She pinned him with her keen eyes. “And you’re responsible for bringing her back.”
He inclined his head. “On my life.”
Willow’s hand threaded through his. The force of his conviction stoked rhun to an impossible level. He would keep her safe. Something shifted. I’m too broken for her. The thought had haunted him for months.
Now another rose to meet it. They forged me into a stronger weapon.
Not for war.
For her.
The next four hours became a blur of choosing their small team, weapons checks, environmental briefs, containment and neutralization protocols, and arguments over their approach and tactics.
He watched as Willow was outfitted with enough equipment to become a hazard to herself.
When the tech finished, he stripped the loadout and replaced the heavy pack with a compact field kit.
He added two emergency seals to her belt in case the dome lost compression.
On the other side he clipped three personal tuppu canisters.
“I’m not a luggage rack.”
“You’re fragile and need more defensive gear than offensive.”
“Well that’s not sexy.”
“It’s accurate.”
“Also not sexy.”
He stepped close, shielding them both from the rest of the staging area. “You’re precious.”
She smiled. “That’s better.”
Renjik leaned down and kissed her. It was hard and brief. A promise against her lips.
“Okay,” Willow took a shaky breath. “That was motivational.”
He smiled.
“Maybe too motivational. I may need a minute.” She winked up at him.
The infiltrator ship they’d chosen was light and sleek and bristled with weapons. The dock alarm sounded as the ramp unfolded from its belly. The team loaded in silence. Five other warriors, Willow and Na’ashq’ii. The remaining room was occupied by a med pod. Just in case.
Renjik took the seat across from Willow and watched her restraints lock over her chest. She checked the custom collar that had been fitted to her suit where Na’ashq’ii rested.
The creature refused to be removed from her shoulders with impressive violence, and after biting a probe in half and almost taking a finger from the tech handling it, the modification was made.
He’d never admit it, but he might be starting to like the creature.
She looked small in the armored gear. She also looked determined, but most of all she looked like his future walking into the path of enemy fire.
They reached Kerrak four hours before scheduled deployment. They landed on the far side of the moon, away from the main structure.
Willow met his gaze when they touched down.
Renjik’s synth hand closed around the grip of his graj? and hoped his expression answered with the only thing that mattered.
We stay together. We come home.
By the time the ramp lowered to the slate gray moon’s surface, the warriors were standing in position, ready to strike. Renjik and Willow took the rear position.
The entire team moved in formation as they left the ship.
And marched into war.
KERRAK STATION WAS silent. That made it worse.
The mining dock was dark, lit only by failing navigation lights on the floor. Dust motes danced in their light beams and old transport carts sat abandoned on mag lift rails, their bins empty and tilted like bodies left where they’d fallen. The sound of groaning metal echoed through the tunnel.
“Charming,” Willow whispered. “Love what they’ve done with the place.”
Renjik moved ahead of her, graj? in hand. “Stay behind me.”
“Oh, that’s where I live now.”
The team moved through the tunnel with smooth precision. They reached an airlock hatch and two warriors moved to secure it. Another kneeled by a maintenance panel and connected a comm unit.
Na’ashq’ii stirred next to Willow’s neck, one tentacle’s tip pressed against her suit. It clicked once.
She checked her scanner. Everything was still green.
So far.
“Route is open,” the lead warrior called back. “This ore processing tunnel connects to the upper habitat levels. We should bypass all primary checkpoints.”
“Move out,” Renjik ordered.
They emerged onto the lowest resident level without fanfare.
The entire place felt wrong in the way abandoned places felt when filled with new fear.
Scozid architecture was layered on top of mining corridors built by another species centuries earlier.
The modifications added slick black tech to every junction and turned simple doors into systems that looked like they might judge your worth before opening.
Willow hated that she understood why they’d almost obliterated the simple lines of the original builders. Control. Every system gave the Scozid something their bodies didn’t. Strength, reach, endurance, visible hierarchy. Technology was culture, identity, and god.
The group stopped at a T junction, the lead warriors clearing the way before heading right. Willow stopped them. “Left.”
The lead Trelxak looked at the map. “The planned route is right.”
“I know,” she pointed to a line of Scozid text etched into the wall. “That indicates maintenance access is this way. It won’t be guarded. Maintenance is beneath notice.”
“Or it’s a trap.” The Trelxak frowned.
Willow sighed. “Everything is a trap. I have better odds than most at slipping the noose.”
Renjik nodded. “We go left.”
The corridor descended a flight of steps before it narrowed. The service passage was lined with environmental conduits that hummed. Willow’s arms brushed the walls twice. Renjik and the other warriors had to turn sideways in several places.
Na’ashq’ii clicked in rapid succession.
“Stop.”
The team froze. Willow scanned ahead. The screen showed a faint patch of acid on the conduit running along the wall. She pointed to it. “Don’t touch that.”