Chapter 4 #2
Lilibet had charmed me completely. She was adorable, but remarkably well-behaved for one so young.
I suspected that being reared in a Kwado harem had given her survival skills few younglings had to master.
She called Jolie ‘MeMe’—mother in the Naniloa language—probably the only mother she’d ever known.
I couldn’t fathom how difficult it must have been for Jolie to care for Lilibet in the harem, and that fact only made me respect her more.
I glanced toward the mouth of the alley, assessing our route. The throng of citizens had waned somewhat, but the main thoroughfare still bustled with activity.
I raised my arm, which triggered the comm unit encircling my wrist. “Merkit?”
“Yes, Captain,” Merkit’s crisp voice came through immediately, always prompt and professional. He would make an excellent captain someday.
“We have a new mission—a special request from King Vraxxan. We leave within the hour. Recall everyone from shore leave immediately.” I glanced at Jolie, waiting for her reaction to my small lie, but she only gave a slow, understanding nod in response.
I suspected she would go along with any ruse to keep Lilibet safe.
“Yes, Captain,” Merkit replied without hesitation.
We navigated the corridors back to the Eden without incident, though I remained hyperaware of every glance cast our way.
The disguise worked flawlessly. Citizens instinctively stepped aside when they spotted Jolie’s Kerzak form, eyes quickly averting from what they perceived as a danger.
Even the scattered Kwado and Wojonik patrols we encountered gave us a wide berth, hands unconsciously drifting toward their weapons with wary readiness.
I kept my own scales deliberately shifted, the ones along my left arm and shoulder turned to deep obsidian—a visual warning.
While Vraxxan had outlawed the shifting of scales, the knowledge that a shifted Zarpazian was lethal remained deeply embedded in galactic consciousness.
There was no way for casual observers to know that my abilities were limited, and I used that uncertainty to our advantage.
When we finally reached the docking bay, I gestured toward the far end where the Eden waited like a sleeping leviathan.
The ship stretched nearly 800 meters from bow to stern, the primary hull sculpted to resemble a massive deep-sea predator frozen in perpetual hunt.
The pronounced “snout” of the forward section housed an intimidating array of weapons systems and sensor clusters, the dark apertures like the eyes of some ancient beast. Razor-sharp spikes protruded from strategic points along the hull.
Not mere decoration, but functional housing for shield generators and point-defense systems designed to shred incoming missiles and repel boarding attempts.
“It’s big, MeMe,” Lilibet whispered in awe, her small voice carrying clearly despite the Kerzak disguise.
Even through the fearsome mask of fur and fangs, I could see relief flood Jolie’s posture as she took in the sight of the ship. I hoped she would feel safe aboard.
Once we crossed the threshold into the cargo bay, I immediately sealed the ramp behind us, unwilling to risk any unwanted followers. Most of my crew used the aft entrance, which required DNA verification for access—a security measure that had saved us more than once.
Safe within the Eden, I reached into Jolie’s cloak pocket and retrieved the cuddwisg device, my fingers finding the deactivation switch. The air around them rippled, and the imposing figure of the dark-furred Kerzak dissolved, revealing Jolie and Lilibet in their true forms.
Under the harsh illumination of the cargo bay’s lighting arrays, I noticed details that the alley’s shadows had hidden.
Purple smudges darkened the delicate skin beneath Jolie’s eyes, a testament to her constant vigilance.
Lilibet, despite her enthusiasm, swayed slightly in Jolie’s arms, her bright green eyes dulled with bone-deep exhaustion.
“Come with me,” I said, my voice gentler than I’d intended. “I will take you to your quarters.”
Jolie hesitated for only a heartbeat, her gaze sweeping the cargo bay as if memorizing every detail, before falling into step behind me.
I made to lead them toward the guest quarters where most rescued humans stayed, but something I neither recognized nor could explain made me veer toward the crew quarters instead.
Specifically toward the chamber kept empty in case the king and queen traveled with us.
That it happened to be adjacent to my own quarters had absolutely no bearing on my decision.
At least that’s what I told myself, even as the need to keep them close burned through my veins like molten metal.
I waved my hand over the biometric sensor panel, watching as blue light scanned my palm before the heavy door whispered open, drawing sharp gasps of wonder from my guests.
The royal chamber stretched before us, a palace suite transplanted among the stars.
Pale walls curved gracefully upward in sweeping arcs, surfaces embedded with intricate veins of precious metals that caught and refracted the light.
The floor beneath our feet was crafted from polished stone, infused with bioluminescent minerals.
Furniture floated at perfect heights throughout the space, each piece suspended by individual gravitational fields and upholstered in rich fabrics that shifted color subtly as the light played across their surfaces—deep sapphire melting into emerald, then warming to burnished gold.
A massive bed dominated the far wall, the headboard carved from a single piece of fossilized heartwood from the legendary singing trees of Zarpazia.
Gossamer curtains, which moved with no discernible breeze, created an ethereal canopy, the fabric seeming to twinkle with starlight.
The ceiling was perhaps the most breathtaking feature.
A transparent dome of reinforced crystal that could display either the infinite star field stretching beyond the ship’s hull or holographic scenes of peaceful landscapes from dozens of worlds, complete with the gentle sounds of alien winds and distant birdsong.
“I told you that you could be a princess,” I said softly, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at my lips as I watched Lilibet’s reaction.
The youngling squealed in pure delight, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she wriggled from Jolie’s embrace to bounce about the room like a tiny whirlwind, her small hands trailing over every surface with wonder.
“Until we clear the space station’s jurisdiction, I think it would be safest for you both to remain in these quarters,” I hated asking this of them—Jolie and Lilibet had been prisoners for far too long already, and here I was, essentially confining them again, even if it was in luxury.
“My crew is completely trustworthy, but the dockmaster retains the right to board and inspect any vessel until we’re beyond the station’s boundaries. ”
Jolie nodded absently, her deep brown eyes still traveling over the room, drinking in the details as if she couldn’t quite believe they were real.
“The bathing facilities are through that archway,” I said, gesturing toward an opening to the right.
“I’ll have food and new clothing delivered shortly.
” They both wore oversized cloaks of rough-woven fabric.
The kind favored by the poor and homeless throughout the galaxy, chosen no doubt to help them blend in and escape notice.
Jolie’s eyes met mine, and I saw them glittering with unshed tears. “Do you have clothes that will fit us?”
“The Eden’s primary mission is human rescue operations,” I explained, my voice roughening slightly with emotion I hadn’t expected. “Our queen made certain to have clothing in all sizes kept aboard, so that those we rescued would have comfort from the moment they stepped onto our ship.”
Something flickered across Jolie’s expression—relief, followed by gratitude so profound it made my chest tighten, and beneath it all, something else I couldn’t quite name but that made my scales prickle with awareness. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick.
I felt the touch of her fingertips against my forearm, feather-light, and hesitant. My scales responded instantly, rippling in waves of sensation that traveled up my arm and across my shoulders.
“Anything you need,” I said, the words weighted with a promise that went far deeper than simple hospitality.
“Anything at all—food, clothing, medical attention, or simply someone to talk to—press the blue button on the communication panel beside the door. It will connect you directly to the bridge, and I’ll respond immediately. ”
“Thank you,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper, before turning her attention to where Lilibet bounced in the middle of the enormous bed.
I found it unexpectedly difficult to force my feet to carry me toward the door, as if some invisible force was trying to root me to the spot.
At the thought of leaving them, something twisted deep in my gut—a surge of protectiveness unlike anything I’d ever experienced, primal and fierce and utterly consuming.
The ache to return to their side, to stand guard over them, followed me like a shadow all the way through the ship’s corridors to the bridge.
“Report?” I commanded. My voice cut through the ambient hum of the engines as I strode toward my chair.
The bridge stretched out before me in a circular design, a testament to both form and function.
My captain’s chair sat positioned at the center of a raised platform that offered commanding views in every direction.
The metal deck plates beneath my feet gleamed under the soft illumination, the surface etched with intricate patterns that provided grip during combat maneuvers while channeling energy conduits throughout the ship’s structure.