Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The golden-scaled male burst through the doorway before Jaz had finished climbing out of the transport.
One moment she was reaching for her gear bag, the next Adjar had vaulted over her head with a roar that shook the ground beneath the settlement’s modular rooftops.
The two males collided mid-air, a tangle of claws and fury that sent them crashing into a storage unit hard enough to buckle the metal wall.
“Adjar, stop!” She scrambled after them, her boots slipping on the dusty ground.
Neither male was listening.
Rhyx was smaller than Adjar, and leaner, but wickedly fast. His golden scales caught the weak Martian sunlight as he twisted free of Adjar’s grip and slashed at his throat.
Adjar blocked with his forearm, taking the blow on his silver scales, then retaliated with a wing-strike that sent Rhyx tumbling across the hard ground.
“Rhyx! Rhyx, stand down!”
A blonde woman came running from one of the settlement buildings. She was short and curvy, and currently wearing an expression of absolute fury that seemed directed equally at both males.
Rhyx hesitated at the sound of her voice—just long enough for Adjar to tackle him again.
They rolled across the ground, snarling and snapping at each other in a language she didn’t recognize but could understand well enough. Ancient threats. Territorial challenges.
Males, she thought grimly, and did the only thing she could think of.
She grabbed a canister of emergency coolant from the transport’s external kit and sprayed both of them directly in the face.
The effect was immediate. Both males recoiled, sputtering and wiping at their eyes. The cold wouldn’t hurt them since they were both designed for extreme temperatures but the shock of the sudden spray broke whatever primal feedback loop had locked them into combat mode.
“Are you finished?” She planted herself between them, the coolant canister still raised threateningly. “Or do I need to find something stronger?”
Adjar’s eyes found hers through the dissipating mist. She watched him struggle to contain his instincts, his claws flexing in and out, his wings still half-spread in threat display. But he didn’t attack again.
“He charged at you,” he growled.
“He was running towards the transport. You’re the one who decided that was a threat.”
“He is a threat. Another male, entering my territory where my mate—”
“Your territory?” Rhyx’s voice was accented differently than Adjar’s but it carried the same odd cadence. “I was here first. This is my territory. My mate is here. And you—” He lunged forward again, only to be brought up short by the blonde woman stepping directly into his path.
“Enough.” Her voice was quiet but carried absolute authority. “Both of you. Enough.”
Rhyx stopped instantly, his whole demeanor shifting from predatory fury to something almost sheepish. The transformation was startling—one moment he was all coiled menace, the next he was practically hovering over the small woman, his body language broadcasting concern rather than aggression.
“They surprised me,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I didn’t expect—”
“You didn’t think.” The blonde turned to face Jaz, and despite the chaos of the past few minutes, her expression was apologetic. “I’m so sorry. He’s usually better than this. I’m Alina Faulkner.” She extended her hand. “You must be Ms. Kour.”
“Jaz, please. And I’m a huge fan of yours.
” Alina was younger than she’d expected—late twenties at most, with a round, almost innocent face that belied the intelligence in her brown eyes.
Her clothes were practical but well-maintained, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun that was already escaping its confines.
“Really? Are you a geologist?”
“No, I’m a miner, but I like to keep up with the latest geological science.”
“That’s fascinating. I’m afraid actual field work is something I have very little experience with—with one major exception.
” She looked over at Rhyx, her face warm.
“But I’d love to hear more about your work.
” Alina’s gaze shifted past her to where Adjar stood, still radiating barely contained aggression. “Wow. He’s… different.”
“Different how?” She moved to stand beside Adjar, partly out of solidarity and partly because she knew her presence would help calm him. Sure enough, his posture relaxed fractionally when she touched his arm.
“Bigger. More…” Alina gestured vaguely. “Intimidating? Rhyx is dangerous, obviously, but he can pass for human at a distance. Your male looks like something out of a legend.”
She studied Rhyx more closely, now that he wasn’t actively trying to kill her mate.
Alina was right. The golden male was tall and powerfully built, his scales giving his skin an unusual sheen, but he was smaller than Adjar and his features were more human.
And now that they were no longer fighting, his wings had folded back out of sight.
“The Keepers were legends,” Rhyx said. His bright blue eyes were fixed on Adjar with a mixture of wariness and something that looked like recognition. “You are a Keeper. One of the polar guardians.”
“And you are a warrior of the Var’thaal.” Adjar’s voice was still rough with aggression, but he was speaking rather than attacking. Progress. “Designed for battle.”
“Designed.” Rhyx’s mouth twisted. “That’s one word for it.”
“Is there another?”
“Bred. Modified. Engineered over countless generations until we barely remembered what we’d been before.” The golden male’s hands clenched at his sides. “I have memories of flying in a body that was not like this. Of wings that caught thermal currents over desert sands. But very little else.”
Something shifted in Adjar’s expression. The hostility didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened..
“My memories are also incomplete,” he admitted. “I remember the Vaults. My duty. The decision to enter preservation. But before that…” He shook his head. “Fragments. Pieces that don’t fit together.”
“Perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere warmer?” Alina suggested. “And with fewer opportunities for property damage?”
Jaz glanced at the buckled storage unit, the scattered coolant residue, and the scorch marks on the ground where claws had struck sparks.
“Probably wise,” she agreed.
Alina led them towards a squat building on the outskirts of Dustfall.
The architecture was typical for a Martian settlement with prefabricated modules connected by pressurized corridors, designed for function rather than aesthetics.
But there were small touches that spoke of long habitation.
Decorative panels mounted on exterior walls.
A small garden of hardy arctic plants growing in a sheltered alcove.
Signs of community rather than mere survival.
“Most of the settlement’s population is cyborg-affiliated,” Alina explained as they walked. “Not modified themselves, necessarily, but connected to the ranger program in some way. Families, support staff, retired operatives. They’re used to unusual visitors.”
“Unusual visitors like Rhyx?”
“He took some getting used to.” Alina glanced back at the golden male, who was walking beside her with a possessive hand on her lower back. “But they adapted. The cyborgs especially have a different perspective on what counts as ‘normal.’”
The building’s interior was surprisingly warm and comfortable.
She had expected functional minimalism, but instead found herself in what appeared to be a common area with actual furniture—couches, chairs, a long table that could seat eight.
The walls were decorated with artwork, some of it clearly Martian-made, and some imported from Earth.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Alina said as she removed her breathing mask. “I’ll get something to drink. Rhyx, help me in the kitchen?”
The golden male didn’t look happy about leaving Adjar unwatched, but he followed his mate without argument. She watched them disappear through a doorway, then turned to find Adjar standing absolutely rigid in the center of the room.
“Breathe,” she said quietly.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re also radiating enough territorial aggression to make my teeth ache. Relax.”
His eyes met hers, and she saw the effort it took him to relax his muscles and retract his claws, folding his wings more tightly against his back.
“Better?”
“Better.” She put a soothing hand on his arm, gently stroking the tense muscles.
“I know this is hard. Another male, in close quarters, when your instincts are still screaming about threats. But these people might be our best chance at understanding what’s happening. We need them as allies, not enemies.”
“I understand.” His voice was rough. “But understanding does not make it easier.”
“Nothing about this is easy.” She let her hand drop. “Come on. Let’s sit down like civilized beings and try to have a conversation that doesn’t end in violence.”
They chose seats at the long table—close enough together that their legs touched beneath the surface, far enough from the kitchen doorway to give the other couple their own space.
She found herself studying the room’s details while they waited, cataloging escape routes and defensive positions out of habit.
When did I become so paranoid? she wondered.
But she knew the answer. The moment she’d decided to help Adjar rather than leave him in the snow, her entire life had changed.
The comfortable isolation she’d built over the years was gone.
Now she was a fugitive, hunted by the most powerful corporation on Mars, trying to protect an ancient being she’d known for less than two weeks.
And somehow, despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.