Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Samantha flashed Koroq and Razi a triumphant grin as she pulled the credit chips toward her growing pile. “I win. Again.”
Koroq groaned and threw his hands up in frustration. “Never should have taught her to play!”
Kiloq snickered, leaning back in his chair. “No chance of ever winning now. The terran’s too good.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Razi muttered. “It’ll run out. Eventually.”
Thargen barked laughter and took another swig of his drink. “You’re just pissed because you got knocked off the top of the hill, cren.”
Razi frowned, brows falling low over his piercing blue eyes. “No. I’m happy for the competition. Not like any of you ever gave me a challenge.”
“That’s cause you’re a cheat,” Koroq said.
“I don’t cheat. You’re just too dumb to understand the game,” Razi growled.
Koroq pushed himself up, but Kiloq—grinning as though he enjoyed the spectacle—stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “He doesn’t cheat, Kor. You just suck.”
“You’re not any better,” Koroq said.
Kiloq shrugged. “Don’t want you to feel bad, so I lose on purpose.”
“No you don’t, you lying—”
Someone cleared his throat; Sam looked toward the doorway to see Drakkal standing just inside the lounge with his powerful arms crossed over his broad chest—his signature stance.
“Everyone’s getting along great, right ?” the azhera asked.
“You always spoil the fun,” grumbled Thargen. “I was just about to start taking bets on who’d win the fight.”
Samantha chuckled. “We’re playing Conquerors. Do you want to join us?”
Drakkal dropped his arms to his sides and strode to the table, glancing down at the stacks of credit chips in front of the players—not that anyone had much left, apart from Razi and Sam. “Might be tempted to when Arc gets here. It’s more fun when I know he’s losing, too.”
Excitement thrummed inside Sam. “Arc is coming? Is he finally taking a break?”
“He’d better come. He agreed, and I gave him a deadline. He’ll be late, because he always gets distracted, but I think he’ll get here eventually.”
“He’ll come,” she said.
Thargen laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be coming all right, but it won’t be here.”
Samantha blushed, ducking her head, but a faint smile tugged at her lips—because Thargen was likely right.
Though her gaze was averted, she swore she felt Drakkal glare at the vorgal.
“I think you’re the only reason he’s left that room at all over the last week, Samantha,” Drakkal said. “He’ll come. Time just works a little different for him. I said ten minutes, so he’ll be at least half an hour.”
“It takes time to look this good,” Razi said in a voice startlingly similar to Arcanthus’s.
Samantha laughed. “That was pretty good, Razi.”
The cren shrugged and reached forward to reset the holographic game board, a shy smile touching his lips.
Despite his complaints, Koroq anted up at the start of the next round. Within a few turns, Razi and Samantha had clearly pulled ahead, the former wearing a look of intense concentration throughout. Drakkal remained beside the table, watching with a smirk.
When her turn came again, Samantha considered the board, making subtle calculations even she couldn’t fully understand. For her, a large part of the game was driven by instinct. She was reaching for one of her cards when the lights in the room changed abruptly.
Orange and yellow flashed overhead, and an alarm blared.
A chill ran down Samantha’s spine. “What’s going on?”
Everyone around the table leapt to their feet in unison, their features hardening. Drakkal quickly activated his holocom. Within a second, he’d pulled up what looked like surveillance feeds from outside. There was gunfire, and attackers advancing; the screens were too small for her to see what exactly was happening, but it clearly wasn’t good.
An explosion sounded in the hallway, loud enough to shake the walls and floor, occurring in time with several other explosions that terminated some of the surveillance feeds on Drakkal’s holocom.
“That was the main door,” Drakkal growled.
He and the others drew their blasters.
Arcanthus’s voice, tinged by a faint, electronic buzz, came through everyone’s holocoms simultaneously. “Everyone fall back to the workshop immediately! They’ve breached multiple entrances. Get to the damn workshop!”
Tremors of fear coursed through Samantha as she watched everyone but Drakkal rush out of the lounge. She looked at the azhera with wide eyes. “What’s happening?”
Drakkal rounded the table and clasped her upper arm with his free hand. “We’re under attack. We need to move, terran.”
Samantha nodded and stood up.
He led her into the hallway, where the others—Koroq, Kiloq, Razi, and Thargen—had spread out with weapons ready. There were shouts from around the nearby corner, and a haze of smoke in the air. Of everyone, only Thargen looked unconcerned; his lips were curled in an anticipatory grin, like he was eager for what would come.
Drakkal guided Samantha to flatten herself against the wall and positioned himself in front of her, blocking her view. Her heart thundered as, at his direction, she slowly retreated, backing away from the shouting.
Only a moment had passed before the whining thumps of firing blasters filled the hallway. Blue-white bolts of plasma darted past Samantha. Across the hall, Thargen returned fire, roaring with a gleeful light in his eyes as he squeezed the trigger of his blaster over and over.
“Fall back!” Drakkal roared.
Despite his half-crazed excitement, even Thargen slowly backed away.
Samantha looked in the direction they were heading; the next intersecting corridor was only a few meters away. She wasn’t sure which way to go—to her knowledge, there were at least four doors into Arcanthus’s workshop, but she’d only learned a few specific routes to traverse the compound despite her frequent wandering. Were any of those paths safe ?
The blaster fire died down for a moment. In the lull, Drakkal sped their pace, practically shoving Samantha down the hall and around the corner.
To her relief, the others joined them, all seemingly unharmed.
“There’s more coming in,” Drakkal said. “Too many. We need to hurry.”
“Quickest way is through the big door,” Thargen said. Delighted fire burned in his eyes; this was his element, this was what he lived for.
Samantha was glad he was on their side.
They raced along the corridors, working their way ever deeper into the compound. Sam had never seen most of the hallways they ran through and didn’t have time to orient herself; Drakkal kept her slightly ahead of him, ensuring his body shielded her back. She tried not to acknowledge the fact that none of them were wearing armor of any sort.
We’ll be okay. We’re going to make it, and we’ll be safe, and then Razi and Koroq can get back to arguing about who won how many credits from who in that last game.
Someone yelled behind them. More blaster fire darted back and forth, and Drakkal growled out what must’ve been a curse. Samantha pressed her lips together and forced her legs to keep moving. Her nostrils flared with her heavy, burning breaths.
“Doing good, Sam. Keep going,” Drakkal said.
The steadiness of his voice granted Samantha strength; she’d learned how terrifying these situations were when Arcanthus had rescued her from the apartment complex, but she’d also learned how grounding it was to be around someone who held his cool even when his life was in danger.
Someone like Arcanthus.
God, Arc, please be okay. Please .
She had no idea where he was, no idea what he was facing right now—no idea if she’d ever see him again.
No, I will see him again. This isn’t the end, damn it. We’re both getting through this.
Though she was grateful to have Drakkal there, she longed to have Arc beside her so she could cling to his warm, solid body, so she’d know he was safe.
Hell, she would’ve felt more comfortable—or at least less powerless—with a blaster in her hand. She wasn’t a great shot, but it would’ve been something ; even the illusion of being able to fight back might’ve been enough. Having no practical means of defending herself was frightening. It reminded her too much of how helpless and weak she’d always felt around James.
“Shit,” someone yelled; it might’ve been one of the cren, but Sam wasn’t sure.
Samantha ducked as plasma bolts struck the nearby wall, punching orange-ringed holes in concrete and metal. Drakkal shoved her into the shallow recess of a doorway and blocked the opening with his body. She pressed her face against the door and clenched her jaw, caged in the tight space as a cacophony sounded around her—shouts, gunfire, growls—all underscored by her rapidly beating heart.
We’re going to be fine .
Drakkal hissed as a bolt zipped past his head; an instant later, the acrid odor of singed fur stung Sam’s nose. Smoke curled from the spot on his bristling mane that had been burned away.
We’re going to be fine .
Unfortunately, she found her own thoughts unconvincing.