Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
AIRIK
A tremor had begun in Airik’s hand as they entered the drozekar’s brightly lit command hall.
The entire design of a drozekar centered on the gravity engine.
Habitable zones encircled the gravity core.
A narrow hallway running adjacent to the core connected all the spaces—the command hall; biowaste and hygiene; a galley; a small detention room, as captives were possible but rare and discouraged; the regenerating chambers; and sleeping quarters.
All rooms were equipped with weaponry, though it was locked in cabinets that responded only to tagion codes, or in Airik’s case, his sword, which served as one.
Airik knew these crafts as well as the belly of his blade and all its commands.
Which meant, to his immediate distress, that he could only ever see a small section of the massive craft at any time, blocked by the central gravity center.
To his left, on the task bench, an omnislate lay beside a powered but unarmed gun, its charge packs messily strewn around. Typical of Torren.
But farther down, near the doorway leading to the first dormitory, lay an open black tool case—not of Veynari issue. There were dozens of sharp tools, like those used to map data chips and terminal devices. The omnislate’s screen flickered on, with a profile he didn’t recognize.
His eyes darted to both doorways at either end of the curved space. It smelled overly purified. Sterile. Devoid of any traces of the flowers and grass that had surrounded them for weeks. Even Nora’s scent didn’t reach him.
The Veynari insignia faced him in every direction he turned—on the command panels, etched into the floor, and on all the sliding portal doors.
Above him, the Watcher system’s sensors glowed softly, recording his movements.
Despair touched every one of his senses.
Even here. Surrounded by the only lives in the universe, save Aelior, that mattered to him.
A glint of metal flashed in the corner of his right eye, causing him to make a sharp jerk back. Everything felt too small, the ceiling too short, the walls too close. He scratched under his eye, the scar throbbing.
Nora rushed beside him. At the last moment, she froze, clearly remembering they could not touch.
Shooting a glance at the Watcher above, he sucked in a deep breath.
The feed wasn’t actively monitored while on mission—only once they returned to Zarmur.
He’d deal with it then. Slowly, he forced his gaze down to Nora and nodded slightly, hoping that Torren, who remained in the doorway, kneeling beside Lucky, would overlook her concern.
“It was nothing—I thought I saw something. Sit there,” he told her, indicating the open bench at the far right end. “Do not leave my sight.”
“Okay, Airik.” She hurried to where he wanted.
Torren perked at the sound of his name, first looking at her, then at him. “Oo-kay Air-rick,” Torren chimed, mimicking the way she spoke.
Nora covered her mouth, laughing nervously.
His fingers twitching, Airik shoved his hand into his pocket, watching Torren through narrowed eyes.
“Air-rick,” Torren said again, his voice soft. He was not mocking Nora, but even a passing fascination with her sent Airik’s pulse into a catastrophic surge of rage.
If you don’t control yourself, you will ruin far more than just your life. She is also at risk. Without you, she will have no protection against the Veynari.
“Strange little human,” Torren said, using words Nora had no hope of understanding. “His name is Aaiyh-rick. Come now, I think even a human can understand this. We’ll say it together—Aaiyh—”
“Do not correct her!” Airik rushed between them. “Do not do anything together with her.”
Lucky’s mirthful chittering filled the room.
Fuck.
“Don’t listen to him,” Airik said to Nora. “He was trying to make you say it as everyone else says it, but…I want my name the way your lips and tongue make it.”
She blushed, opening her mouth to answer, but then closed it and sat where she’d been told, squishing herself into the corner.
Torren swiped the command panel, then crossed his arms and stared at Airik—still smiling—during the ramp’s noisy, too-long ascent. “I’m beginning to feel a little guilty about breaking up this social gathering. Would you like me to leave and come back at a more opportune time?”
Airik said nothing, staring at Nora’s slippers.
It was then that, with a growl, Lucky sprang off her lap, squaring himself in front of the door.
It slid open with a hiss.
The air chilled.
A man stood on the other side, looking down, patting the pocket of his brown pants—the generic uniform of the Veynari Interstellar Shield Forces—as if he’d just placed something in it.
The man stopped mid-stride, blocked by Lucky’s puffed-up body. He let out a short growl. “Osian!” he called, using Torren’s given clan name. “An infestation. Where is your gun—”
The man’s threat was cut off when Nora made a small squeak, her eyes wide, her body stiffening as if electrified. His black-and-white swirling gaze rose to meet hers. He blinked, a translucent third eyelid sliding across his eyes.
He was torjarin, with serrated, teeth-like scales for a hide and his head shaven clean. A true sapient species. Their evolutionary birth world had only just submitted to the Veynari. That endeavor had been Airik’s first while being forged, the first time he’d taken a life he hadn’t known.
Airik reached for his blade, his eyes fixed on the man’s tagion tattoos covering his body. He paid no heed to Airik or even to Torren at that moment, stupidly focused on Nora, giving Airik time to rearm himself.
At the edge of his mind, recognition clawed.
He’d seen those exact marks before—on the soldiers who’d flanked Vorn when he’d confronted Airik in the drozekar launch way.
But there was no time to think on this further as the man made a deep growl, taking all of Nora in, his mouth parting as a black tongue slipped into the air.
The two slits he had for a nose flared, scenting her.
“Where did you find a human?” the man said, taking a step toward her. “And a well-fed one at that.”
Ears pounding, Airik charged to the door, blocking the man’s path and line of sight to Nora. “Who are you?” He clenched the handle of his sword. If anyone other than the man spoke, he could not hear them—his attention was wholly on the unknown before him.
The man’s head snapped up. “You’re alive,” he sputtered. He shook his head, his scales flaring with red.
Airik drew back, cold snapping over his body. “That disappoints you,” he said. “Why?”
The man growled, reaching for his hip, then froze. His arm fell slack to the side as if denying some reflex. He was used to carrying a weapon. Why had he been disarmed?
“What a peculiar greeting between two supposed civilized individuals,” Torren said, forcing himself between them, which was no trouble since he was larger than both of them.
He clamped a firm, gloved grip on each of their shoulders, giving them a short, hard shake.
“This is embarrassing. Even the human managed a better greeting than both of you. Airik, this is Xallix. Xallix, close your mouth—it’s scaring the human. ”
Airik’s instinct screamed to turn to Nora, but instead, he swallowed and said, “The human is mine. Do not look at her. Do not speak to her. She is in a morazir’s possession until we return to Zarmur.”
He stopped, giving Xallix the opportunity to obey, assuming he must be slow. “You’re still staring at her,” Airik said. “It seems you do not understand my words.”
Xallix sneered, baring his teeth. “This was not what I was assigned to do—to share space with an animal.” His eyes flicked down to Lucky, who still stood before Nora, teeth bared. “Or an ooshi. Vorn will hear of this—”
“What would Vorn do?” Torren roughly turned Xallix’s head away from Nora.
“He may be a general—one of the exalted Six—but I don’t obey him.
And if memory serves, he’s the one who ordered the restriction on your plasma weapons because you can’t seem to use them very well.
This special mission is a favor granted by the Ourex, of which Vorn is only a small part—run concurrently with the extraction of a morazir.
One whom you will obey and defer to while on Ed’un and in transit.
Those were the terms for whatever special exploration of decommissioning technology Vorn is sponsoring. ”
“Decommissioning?” Airik stiffened. “No one but a morazir ends worlds.” He gave Torren an accusing look. “Why aren’t you doing it?”
His friend shut his eyes. “I suspect I will end up doing it—this is just an unfortunate Ourex-championed experiment to test new technology. Aren’t you listening to anything I’m saying?
Perhaps you’re hungry.” He turned, checking on Nora and Lucky, who had remained silent.
Only the swishing of Lucky’s tail on Airik’s ankle assured him that they were still near.
“Xallix, aren’t there things you need to be doing?
By the True Father, all I’ve seen you do since Zarmur is walk around and play with your pockets.
” Torren gave the other man a strange look.
“Is there anything you need? I’d be happy to assist you.
” Assist was how the Veynari described crushing planets that resisted being brought into its fold, and he dragged out the words.
Xallix’s tongue swept across his lips as he smiled and pushed off the wall. “I have everything I need.” He looked past Torren’s shoulder at Nora. “Just a little surprised by a welcome…distraction.”
Airik’s arms uncrossed at the insinuation, a low growl forming in the pit of his chest.
Perhaps sensing the bloodshed already playing out in Airik’s head, Torren shoved Xallix beyond the door’s threshold into the hallway of cell rooms and swiped the panel to close it.
“Then I’m glad to hear you’re appropriately equipped,” he shouted through the metal barrier.
“Please do your important calculations in your quarters and don’t bother me anymore. ”
He turned to Airik and smiled. “Dealing with idiots is taxing. I’m hungry. Let’s get your human and ooshi settled—as I said, we must talk.”