Chapter Twenty-One #3
Rhazek’s voice returns, sharper. “Service spine to auxiliary cargo lock. I am coming through the starboard breach.”
“Elara,” The Black Star says, “a gold floor line will guide you.”
A thin gold line appears beneath my feet.
“Move,” Rhazek says.
“We’re moving.”
Behind us, a door slams open.
Sarkan steps into the far end of the corridor.
No guards with him. He has shed his robe for dark fitted armor. His bruised cheek and loosened white hair have stripped the elegance from him.
The freed humans panic.
Ben says, “Go.”
I start to turn with the others.
The gold line under my feet flickers.
The tiny rhythm inside me stutters.
Sarkan lifts one hand.
In it is a small black control.
The freed humans freeze, bodies shaking with resistance. Something beneath the dead surface units still answers him.
Ben locks beside me, eyes wide with horror.
“No,” he chokes.
Sarkan smiles at me. “Always leave more than one leash.”
Rhazek’s voice crackles through the wall. “Elara?”
Sarkan’s eyes narrow toward the speaker.
He presses a recessed switch on the black control.
The speakers die.
The gold floor line vanishes.
The bond remains, thin and burning.
I step between Sarkan and the freed humans.
Then he lifts a sleek weapon from his side and points it at Ben.
“Come with me, Elara Quinn.”
“Or?”
His gaze slides to Ben.
Ben’s whole body trembles, frozen under whatever backup command still has hold of him.
Sarkan says, “Or usefulness ends.”
I lower my hand from my stomach.
I lift my face.
“Okay,” I say.
I take one step toward him.
The humans behind me remain frozen. The corridor hums. Somewhere far away, The Black Star tears at the ship like a furious god.
Sarkan keeps the weapon on Ben.
“Drop the tool,” he says.
I drop the crescent tool.
It clatters between us.
I let him reach for my arm, then slam my marked palm against the armor at his throat and call through the bond with everything I have.
Light explodes between my hand and Sarkan’s armor.
His ship screams. Every system in the corridor reacts at once.
The control signal dies. The frozen humans collapse. Ben gasps and moves.
Sarkan staggers back, eyes wide, throat armor smoking beneath my palm print.
I grab the weapon from his hand as he stumbles.
I point it at him with both hands.
“Ben,” I say.
My voice shakes.
“Run.”
Ben moves.
So do the others.
Sarkan straightens slowly, one hand at his smoking collar.
“You should not be able to do that,” he says.
“Put it on the list.”
The gold floor line flickers back to life.
Rhazek’s voice returns through a wall speaker, broken and furious. “Elara!”
“Busy!” I yell.
Sarkan lunges.
I fire.
The blast misses him by an embarrassing amount and blows a hole in a very expensive wall.
Sarkan knocks the weapon from my hands and catches my upper arms.
I drive my knee up.
He twists, taking the hit badly but not hard enough to disable him. Alien anatomy. Inconsiderate.
He grabs my shoulder, his hand close to my mouth.
I bite him.
He snarls and releases me.
I run away from the freed humans, drawing Sarkan after me.
The gold line leads left.
I go right.
“Elara!” The Black Star snaps through the speaker.
“Trust me!”
Sarkan’s footsteps pound behind me.
The corridor opens suddenly into a small launch alcove.
One emergency pod sits at its center. My whole body revolts.
The gold line flashes behind me, angry and urgent.
The Black Star reroutes to the alcove.
Sarkan slows in the doorway.
His smile returns, breathing harder now, bite mark bleeding black-red on his hand.
“Careful,” he says. “You hate pods.”
I hate more that the pod is the only thing in this room with an external release lever and a distress beacon.
I slam my hand against the control panel beside it.
Red denial.
I smear blood from my wrist over it.
Gold light flickers.
The pod wakes.
“What are you doing?”
“Making terrible choices.”
The hatch opens. “Not inside,” I whisper to myself. “Just open.”
Sarkan lunges.
I throw myself sideways and hit the beacon control.
The pod alarm shrieks.
External distress beacon armed.
The Black Star’s voice roars through the alcove speaker.
“Signal received.”
Rhazek’s voice follows.
“Elara, down.”
I hit the floor.
The wall behind Sarkan bursts inward. Black living metal spears through the breach, forcing it apart like fingers opening a throat. Fear crosses his face.
A clawed hand punches through the torn wall.
Rhazek’s.
Then the ceiling above me drops a restraint field.
Oh, come on.
White light snaps around my body. My arms lock at my sides. My legs won’t move. I lie trapped on the floor, choking on panic.
Sarkan recovers fast.
He grabs me under the arms and drags me back from the wall while Rhazek tears through ship metal with a sound that shakes the alcove.
“Almost,” Sarkan says near my ear, breath harsh. “Very impressive.”
“Go to hell.”
“Eventually, perhaps.”
He hauls me upright, one arm across my chest, a second weapon in his other hand pointed toward the torn wall.
Rhazek rips the breach open.
He steps through smoke and sparks.
He is covered in blood that is not all his, markings blazing black-gold, eyes so bright they turn the whole alcove into a shrine to violence.
He sees Sarkan holding me.
Rhazek does not move.
Sarkan’s arm tightens enough to remind me.
“Careful, Black Star,” he says softly.
Rhazek’s gaze meets mine.
I try to speak, but the pressure field still locks my lungs too tight for more than a whisper.
“Humans,” I manage.
His eyes flick toward the corridor where the others fled.
The weapon in Sarkan’s hand shifts lower.
Toward my abdomen. Rhazek’s markings flare gold so hot it looks white.
Sarkan smiles against my hair.
“Careful, little mother,” he murmurs.
My skin crawls.
His weapon presses lightly against the place where the tiny rhythm flickers inside me.
“You are carrying my future.”
Rhazek’s eyes go empty.
I look straight at Rhazek and whisper, “Smarter.”
His eyes snap to mine.