Chapter 19
Enslak
When the hatch opened, humid air rushed in carrying the smell of blood and scorched metal.
Underneath it all was that clean Alliance tech smell—ozone and sterility—and it felt wrong against Avalon's green perfume.
Red targeting laser dots painted the interior, a dozen of them tracking across the surfaces until Charick raised one hand and they disappeared.
"Come out slowly," he called, his voice carrying that command tone he'd used since we were kids.
When I took a step, the world tilted sideways. Gray crept in from the edges of my vision, narrowing everything to a tunnel. The pain I'd been holding back through will and adrenaline and sheer stubbornness crashed over me like a wave, and every blaster wound screamed in protest.
"Enslak," Niki said, her hand small and warm on my arm. "I've got you."
She didn't, though I appreciated the sentiment. I was too heavy, and if I went down, I'd take her with me. I forced myself to move, taking one step and then another while blood dripped from somewhere—my side, my leg, maybe both—soaking through my clothes in warm, wet patches.
The sunlight hit me like a fist when I emerged, too bright.
I squinted, trying to focus on Charick's face, but everything kept blurring and refocusing and blurring again.
Niki descended beside me, her hand gripping my arm, and I could feel her trembling as the soldiers formed a perimeter around us.
Weapons ready but not yet aimed, they watched me the way you watch a wounded animal—dangerous, unpredictable, ready to be put down if it lunges.
Charick stood alone in the center. As we got closer, I watched his face change.
Relief came first, brief and bright when his eyes found mine, and for one heartbeat I saw my brother—the one who taught me to hunt, who carried me when I was too small to keep up, who promised to always protect me.
Then his gaze dropped, taking in the blood and the burns and the wounds, and the relief died.
His face went pale under his tan pelt, his eyes widening.
His mouth opened but nothing came out. I knew what he was seeing: blood everywhere, not surface wounds but deep burns and charred flesh where the blaster bolts had hit again and again.
My shoulder hung wrong. My breathing came ragged and gasping, more animal than person.
My claws were out and extended, still slick with Ulkommenian blood, trembling with muscle spasms I couldn't control, clicking together like knives.
My teeth were bared—not in a snarl but in a grimace of pain so intense I couldn't control my face.
Saliva mixed with blood dripped from my fangs.
I tried to stand straight, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I swayed, my vision tunneling as only Niki's grip kept me upright.
"Brother," Charick said, his voice cracking not with joy but with grief. "We've been searching for you."
When he stepped closer, I saw it—the blade.
Not a combat weapon but something ceremonial, curved and beautiful with an edge so sharp it seemed to cut the air.
The metal gleamed with symbols inscribed across its surface that I recognized even through the pain-haze.
The koa ukufa, the mercy blade. He'd come to finish it.
"No," Niki breathed beside me. "No, he can't—"
But I understood. Looking at myself through his eyes, I got it. I looked like death, like something that should have died hours ago—a creature in agony held together by nothing but pain and instinct. This wasn't my brother seeing me. This was a warrior seeing a dying animal.
"Enslak," Charick said, his voice going soft and gentle with the tone you use for the dying. He took another step, the blade loose at his side. "Brother. I'm so sorry it's come to this."
He closed the distance to five meters, and I could see tears in his eyes now. His scent reached me—familiar, achingly familiar, carrying memories of home and safety and a life I'd lost.
"Charick, wait—" Niki started forward, but I caught her arm with my good hand and shook my head. I'd fight for my life, for the chance to stay with her, but I wouldn't let her get hurt.
"No!" Her voice rose, fierce and desperate. "I won't let him—you're healing."
Was I? Looking at the mercy blade and feeling my body failing, I wasn't so sure anymore.
Charick closed the remaining distance to three meters, then two.
The blade rose to catch the light. "I know you're hurting, brother," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I know you're suffering. I can see it." He glanced at his soldiers, seeing the same grief mirrored on their faces.
"This is mercy. This is kindness. Let me give you peace. "
The blade rose higher as his grip shifted, positioning for the killing stroke—quick and clean through the neck, taking my head in one strike. The warrior's death, honorable and final.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner. That we couldn't save you."
Niki threw herself between us—not hesitant or afraid, but moving like a storm. Small and human and absolutely immovable. She planted herself directly in front of me with her arms spread wide, her body a shield between me and the blade.
"No!" Her voice cut across the clearing, sharp and clear and uncompromising. "Back the fuck up! You are not touching him!"
Charick stopped, surprise flickering across his face as the blade wavered.
"Detective Nguyen. Step aside. This doesn't—"
"Like hell it doesn't!" She didn't move, didn't flinch.
Just stood there facing down a Vaktaire warrior twice her size—armed with a blade that could cut her in half—and she didn't back down even a centimeter.
"He's not broken. He's not lost. He's not some dying animal that needs to be put down.
He's a person. He's your brother. And he's healing. "
"Look at him," Charick said, his voice gentle but firm. "Really look at him, Detective. He's dying. He can barely stand. He can't even speak—"
She took a breath, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her face, but her voice remained unwavering. "He speaks. He laughs. Every day he remembers more. Every day he becomes more himself. He knows who he is. He knows who you are. He's not gone, Charick. He's here."
"His mind—"
"His mind is intact!" Niki's hands clenched into fists.
"Yes, there are gaps. Yes, there are things he doesn't remember yet.
But that doesn't mean he's broken beyond repair.
That doesn't mean he deserves to die. You can't kill someone for not healing on your timeline.
You can't murder your brother because he's taking too long to become the person you remember. "
Charick's jaw tightened. "This isn't murder. This is mercy. Can't you see he's suffering?"
"Of course he's suffering!" Niki's voice rose. "He just fought off fifteen Ulkommenians to protect me! He's covered in blaster wounds! But suffering doesn't mean he needs to die. It doesn't mean you get to make that choice for him."
"He can't make that choice for himself," Charick said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Not in his condition."
"Then ask him!" Niki gestured at me while never taking her eyes off Charick. "Ask him if he wants to die. Ask him if he wants you to end it. Go ahead. Ask."
When Charick's eyes shifted to me, I saw the question there—the terrible, necessary question. But I couldn't answer. My vision was graying out, my legs giving way. I was going down, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
"Enslak!" Niki spun around, catching me as I fell. Her small body somehow supported my weight as I collapsed to my knees. "Stay with me. Please stay with me."
I tried—God, I tried—but the darkness was pulling me under.
"You see?" Charick's voice came gentle and heartbroken. "He's going. Let me end it quickly, before—"
"No." Niki's voice came out fierce even as she cradled my head against her chest. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to take him from me."
Charick moved closer. "Detective Nguyen. I understand you've formed an attachment, but—"
"An attachment?" Niki's laugh came bitter and sharp. "Is that what you think this is? Stockholm syndrome? Misplaced gratitude?"
She looked up at him, and even through my fading vision, I could see the fire in her eyes.
"He's a person, Charick. Not a broken thing you get to put down because it's easier than watching him fight.
He's remembered his brothers. He's learned to speak again, one word at a time, clawing his way back through hell to get there.
He carried me through sewers when he could barely stand.
He killed a dozen soldiers tonight to keep me breathing.
That's not the absence of a mind. That's a man choosing to live. "
Her voice dropped, quieter now, but no less fierce.
"There's something between us. Something I don't fully understand, and I don't think he does either.
But whatever it is, it doesn't make me the one who gets to decide his future.
It doesn't make either of us qualified to end his life because it's inconvenient or frightening or hard to watch. "
Her grip on me tightened, her fingers digging into my shoulder like she could hold me here by will alone.
"So if you want to kill him, you're going to have to go through me.
And I promise you, brother of my mate—" the word caught, uncertain, like she wasn't sure she'd earned the right to say it yet, "—I will fight you with everything I have. I will make you earn every step."
Charick stared at her, the blade trembling in his hand. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Then don't hurt him," Niki said, her voice absolute. "Put down the blade. Step back. Give him the time he needs. Give him the chance to decide for himself what happens next."
"And if he doesn't heal?" Charick asked quietly. "If this is all he'll ever be?"