Chapter 68
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
AIRIK
Airik’s eyes snapped open, woken by the slight tremors of the exit ramp lowering. His heart thundered, expecting the alarm that signaled an intrusion.
“Drozekar,” he whispered, knowing the ship would hear it even at that level. “Unauthorized entry?”
He didn’t breathe, as if stillness could keep the peace he had with Nora from breaking.
“No.”
Sinking back into the cot, Airik let out a sigh.
Sunlight streamed into the room. It must have been Torren, leaving as soon as the sun rose. Airik scrubbed his eyes. Neither of them had ever been good at waiting.
There was nothing but Nora’s soft breathing against his chest. Beside them, Lucky’s tail swished along the floor as he slept.
Knowing there was no chance of falling asleep again, he combed through Nora’s hair, preparing it to braid. Like her eyes, her hair glowed reddish in the sunlight. When he had twisted halfway down her hair, Nora woke with a small yawn and turned to look at him as he worked.
“I want to know everything about you,” she said.
He smiled, enjoying how her gaze dropped to his fangs and her cheeks reddened. “Like what?”
“Your birthday, for example.”
“In the year of Na’bi. On the fourteenth day of the coldest season.”
Nora pouted. “Oh, yes. I know exactly what that means. Maybe there’s a converter or something that can help us figure it out. How old are you?”
Airik tugged on her hair. “When I find a converter, I’ll tell you.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Brown.”
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Brown isn’t anyone’s favorite color.”
“It’s mine. But not every brown. A special brown, one that almost looks red. Like your eyes. And sometimes your hair.”
“But—”
“My next favorite is pink—your cheeks and lips. Exactly the color they’re turning now.
” He tied off the end of her braid, then brought it to his lips for a kiss.
“Beautiful. And this is one of my favorite feelings—your soft hair against my face. Do you want me to name more favorites? Like my favorite sound. Or…favorite taste.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I think you will know it.”
“No,” she said, smiling despite flushing again. “I think I get it.”
She made a noise of contentment, settling back against his chest. “I wanted to cut it all off before I left Earth. My hair, I mean. I’ve never managed to do more than trims, even though it’s such a pain in the ass to manage.
But…I’ve never been able to do it since—because my brother— My hair was long then—” She stopped, her voice overwhelmed with emotion.
“You had your hair long like this when you were small,” he said, understanding what she couldn’t say. “And…he loved it. This was how he saw you.”
Nora nodded against his chest. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “That he won’t know me if something happens—”
Airik stopped stroking her hair, still gripping the end of her braid. “If what happens?”
She shifted onto her elbows, her lip quirking. “It’s stupid, but I worry that if I—if you really meet with your loved ones after death—that he won’t recognize me if my hair is different. He was so small—”
Airik sat up. Cold washed over his skin where Nora’s body had warmed it. “I’ve said this before, and I’m sure of it now—death will never steal you from me. All of your life is mine. And all of mine is yours. How many more times than twice must I say it?”
The window was too small to let in much light, so he knew she couldn’t see him well.
“Okay, you’re right,” she said, tracing the scar on his cheek. “I don’t want to talk about death anyway. I’ll just live forever, and so will you—”
The shriek of the defense signal blared from every corner of the ship.
Nora didn’t have a chance to react—Airik clapped his hands over her ears, pressing her to his body. Lucky, who had been sleeping at the foot of the cot, sprang straight into the air, ricocheting off the walls, searching for an escape from the piercing sound.
Airik’s body tensed, his mind jumbled until it focused on one coherent message: Nora. Keep her safe.
He kissed her on the forehead, lifting them both out of the cot. She tried to say something, but he couldn’t hear her over the sound.
A heavy sensation thrummed in his chest, pushing him to move. The reapers—Xallix’s true purpose—must have arrived.
Following Airik’s cues, both of them got dressed. Lucky pressed his ears flat against his head and scratched at the door. The instant Airik opened it, the ooshi sprinted to the back of the ship, heading toward the regeneration chambers.
His stomach churning, Airik froze, holding out an arm to stop Nora and Lucky.
Torren stood in the doorway of the chamber room holding his blade and wearing only loose pants, as if he’d just been torn from sleep. Dread prickled at the base of Airik’s neck. He slammed the control panel, silencing the alarm.
“He’s gone.” Torren kept his back to them. “He must have placed the neural disrupter before I forced him into hibernation.”
Airik pushed past him. The regeneration chamber’s glass lid had been forced open, and the latch mechanism had been broken.
On the floor lay a small, wired square, the size of a fingernail.
A neural disrupter, used by Veynari forces to interrupt sonic waves meant to disorient shield forces.
Xallix must have used it to override the forced hibernation, then escaped earlier that morning.
“Your sword.” Torren gave Airik a confused look. “Why don’t you have it?”
For one beat, both men looked at one another, jaws set.
They surged out of the room to the command hall, where Airik had last left it.
“He wouldn’t have,” Torren said. “He knows he’ll be ripped apart if he tries to use it without training.” His footsteps were too heavy, masking Nora’s attempts to keep pace with them.
Airik flipped the bench where he had left his sword the night before.
The frame tore at the seams and smashed into the wall.
His empty harness hung from the exposed supports like a gutted carcass.
The greatest weapon in the Veynari, second only to the drozekar.
It was the only one of its kind, forged from an alloy that did not require resonance with a tagion code to command.
Aelior had demanded it for him. She’d invoked her full influence as a general to question the Ourex: Why recruit a child of wild constitution if not to arm him should he survive the forging?
Did the Ourex dare question the all-mighty Algorithm that had selected him, risking the undermining of its authority?
Airik slammed his eyes shut, breathing through his nose and focusing on the cool spot at the tip, just as Aelior had taught him. She sat in a prison—somewhere—dead or alive. And the sword she had championed for him had been stolen from him.
Because he had forgotten it. Again.