Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morning came too soon.
Melissa woke to find Becsul already up, moving quietly around the cell, checking something on a small device she didn’t recognize.
“The shuttle arrives in six hours,” he said without preamble. “I need to finalize arrangements with the other women and ensure the diversion is ready. You and Robbie will stay here until I come for you.”
“Stay here.” She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. “While you do all the dangerous parts alone.”
“The dangerous parts happen when we board the shuttle. Everything before that is just preparation.” He crossed to her and knelt beside the bunk, taking her hands in his. “I need you to be patient. Can you do that?”
“I’m not good at waiting.”
“I noticed.” A hint of a smile crossed his face. “But today, waiting is your job. Keep Robbie calm. Try to act normal if the guards come. Don’t give anyone any reason to suspect something is wrong.”
“Act normal. While planning a prison break.” She laughed weakly. “Sure. No problem.”
His tail wrapped around her wrist, a quick squeeze of reassurance. “You can do this. You’ve survived everything they’ve thrown at you so far. Today is just one more day.”
“One more day,” she repeated. “And then freedom.”
“Freedom,” he agreed. “Together.”
He kissed her once, hard and brief, and then he was gone.
The hours crawled by.
She fed Robbie, changed him, played with him, and tried desperately to act like nothing was different. But her nerves were stretched tight as piano wire, and every sound from the corridor made her flinch. Footsteps passing by. Muffled voices. The distant hum of machinery.
This is taking too long, she thought, pacing the cell with Robbie in her arms. Something’s wrong. Something must have—
The door chimed.
She spun around, heart hammering, expecting Becsul. Instead, the door slid open to reveal a guard she didn’t recognize—tall and thin, with scales that shimmered between brown and rust.
“You have been summoned.” His tone was flat, emotionless.
“Summoned?” She tightened her grip on Robbie. “By whom?”
“Councilor Naran.”
The name hit her like a wave of ice water. “I… I wasn’t informed of any appointments today.”
“It’s not an appointment. It’s a summons.” The guard stepped into the cell, his posture making it clear this wasn’t a request. “The infant stays here.”
“No.” The word came out harder than she intended. “I’m not leaving my son alone.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
Before she could argue further, another figure appeared in the doorway—a small, grey-skinned female that she vaguely recognized as one of the medical technicians. The female’s eyes were downcast, her posture submissive.
“I’ll stay with the child,” she said quietly. “I have experience with infants.”
Every instinct she had screamed at her to refuse. But she could see the guard’s hand drifting towards the weapon at his belt, and she knew that resistance here would only make things worse.
Becsul will find me, she told herself. Whatever this is, he’ll handle it.
“Thirty minutes,” she said tightly. “If I’m not back in thirty minutes—”
“You’ll be back when Councilor Naran releases you.” The guard gestured towards the door. “Move.”
She pressed a kiss to Robbie’s forehead, inhaling his sweet baby scent, and reluctantly handed him to the technician. The female accepted him carefully, cradling him against her chest with what appeared to be genuine tenderness.
“I’ll keep him safe,” she murmured, so quietly only Melissa could hear. “The Captain made arrangements.”
Her heart stuttered. The Captain. Becsul had planned for this?
She didn’t have time to process the implications. The guard’s hand closed around her elbow, not quite painfully, and steered her out of the cell.
The room the guard escorted her to was exactly as intimidating as she’d imagined.
The ancient stone walls loomed over her, covered in carvings she couldn’t read and weapons that looked far too functional to be purely decorative.
The councilor himself sat in an enormous throne-like chair, his posture relaxed, and his expression pleasant in a way that made her skin crawl.
“Dr. Desai.” He gestured to a chair across from him. “Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”
She didn’t move. “Why am I here?”
“Direct. I appreciate that.” Naran steepled his fingers, studying her with black eyes that were both the same and completely different from Becsul’s.
“I wanted to speak with you personally. We haven’t had the opportunity to become acquainted, and given how…
closely… our futures are intertwined, I felt it was past time. ”
“Our futures aren’t intertwined. I’m a prisoner.”
“Semantics.” He smiled, showing teeth that were just slightly too sharp. “You’re a participant in the most important scientific endeavor our species has ever undertaken. The survival of the Cire race may well depend on your cooperation.”
“My cooperation.” She let the word drip with contempt. “Is that what you call it?”
“I call it pragmatism.” Naran rose from his chair and circled around the room, moving with a fluid grace that reminded her uncomfortably of a predator stalking prey.
“You’re an intelligent woman, Dr. Desai.
Surely you can see the logic of our position.
Our people are dying. Every year, more of our cities stand empty.
We face extinction within a generation.”
“And you think kidnapping women from other worlds is the solution?”
“I think we must explore every option available to us.” He stopped a few feet away from her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Including options that may be… morally complex.”
“There’s nothing complex about it. What you’re doing is wrong.”
“Wrong by whose standard?” His smile didn’t waver. “The Vedeckians who sold you to us? The Council members who authorized the purchase? The scientists who volunteered for this project?” He leaned closer. “Or perhaps Captain Becsul, who has been instrumental in… preparing you for the procedure?”
Her blood ran cold. “Becsul has nothing to do with—”
“Becsul has everything to do with this.” Naran’s voice dropped to something soft and dangerous. “He was selected for this assignment specifically because of his genetic profile and his… malleability. I’m pleased to see my assessment was correct. He’s become quite attached to you, hasn’t he?”
She said nothing.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not upset.” Naran settled back into his chair with the casual confidence of a man who held all the cards. “Dr. Veyalor believes that attachment is precisely what we need for the procedure to succeed.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to understand your position.” Naran’s pleasant facade cracked slightly, revealing something cold and hard beneath.
“You are not going to escape this facility. You are not going to be rescued. Captain Becsul is not going to spirit you away to some romantic future among the stars. These are fantasies, Dr. Desai. The sooner you accept reality, the easier this process will be.”
“And if I don’t cooperate?”
“Then I’ll find other ways to motivate you.
” He picked up a datapad from his desk, scrolling through something she couldn’t see.
“Captain Becsul has served the Cire people faithfully for twenty years. He lost his family to the Red Death and is genuinely devoted to our survival. It would be a shame if that service were… forgotten.”
The implication hung in the air between them.
“You’d hurt him.”
“I would do whatever is necessary to ensure the success of this project.” Naran set down the datapad.
“Becsul is useful, but not irreplaceable. There are other males with compatible genetics. Less pleasant ones, perhaps. Less inclined to treat you with the care he’s shown.
” He smiled again, and this time there was no warmth in it at all. “I trust I’ve made myself clear.”
Her hands shook with fear, with rage, with the desperate urge to launch herself across the desk and claw that smug expression off his face.
Before she could respond, a klaxon blared through the office.
Naran’s head snapped up, his expression shifting from smug satisfaction to sharp alertness. The alarm continued, a pulsing wail that seemed to vibrate through the ancient stone.
“What—” He touched something on his desk. “Report. What’s happening?”
A voice crackled through the speaker, distorted by static. “Fire in the lower laboratory, Councilor. Origin unknown. We’re evacuating non-essential personnel.”
“Fire.” Naran’s eyes narrowed. He looked at her, and she saw suspicion crystallizing in his gaze. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?”
“How could I? I’ve been locked in a cell.”
“And your Captain?”
She kept her face blank, even as her heart raced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Naran stared at her for a long moment. Then he turned to the guard who had escorted her. “Take her back to her cell. Stay with her until I send word.”
The guard stepped forward, his grip on her arm rougher this time. “Come.”
“And if she tries anything?” Naran’s voice stopped them at the door. “You have my permission to respond accordingly.”
“Understood, Councilor.”
The corridors were chaos.
Smoke drifted through the air, acrid and chemical, making her eyes water.
Staff members rushed past in both directions, some carrying equipment, others simply fleeing towards the exits.
The alarm continued its relentless wail, underscored by shouted commands and the distant crash of something heavy falling.
The diversion, she realized. This is the diversion.
But she was supposed to be in her cell when it happened. Becsul was supposed to come for her. Instead she was being dragged through pandemonium by a guard who clearly had no intention of letting her out of his sight.
“Move faster.” The guard shoved her forward, and she stumbled, barely catching herself against the wall. “The Councilor wants you secured.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can.”
They reached her cell. The guard keyed in the override code—a sequence she memorized automatically, her mind cataloguing every useful piece of information—and the door slid open.
The technician was inside, still holding Robbie, her grey face tight with fear. When she saw Melissa, relief flooded her features.
“You’re back,” the female said, handing her the baby. “I should—the evacuation—”
“Go.” The guard jerked his head towards the door. “I’ll stay with the prisoner.”
The technician fled, and the door sealed shut behind her.
She clutched Robbie to her chest, backing away from the guard instinctively. He was watching her with an expression she didn’t like—something predatory, something hungry.
“Well.” He took a step towards her. “Alone at last.”
“Stay back.”
“Or what?” Another step. “You’ll scream? No one can hear you over that alarm. And even if they could…” He smiled, revealing teeth that had been filed to points. “Councilor Naran gave me permission to respond accordingly. Did you hear that part?”
“Touch me and Becsul will kill you.”
“Your precious Captain isn’t here.” He was close now, close enough that she could smell the sourness of his breath. “Besides, who do you think started that fire? He’s probably dead already, buried under rubble or burned to ash.”
No. She refused to believe it. Becsul was too smart, too careful. He wouldn’t—
“Such pretty eyes.” The guard reached out, his clawed finger tracing down her cheek. “I’ve always wondered what humans feel like. Soft, aren’t you? So fragile…”
She spat in his face.
His expression twisted with rage. “You little—”
The door exploded inward.
Becsul filled the doorway, his massive form silhouetted against the smoke-filled corridor. His eyes were black pools of fury, his tail lashing behind him like a whip. When he saw the guard standing over Melissa, something in his face went terrifyingly flat.
“Step. Away.”
The guard spun, reaching for his weapon. He never made it.
Becsul moved faster than anyone that large had a right to move. His fist connected with the guard’s jaw with a crack that echoed off the stone walls. The guard crumpled, unconscious before he hit the floor.
“Melissa.” Becsul was at her side in an instant, his hands running over her face, her shoulders, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did he—”
“I’m fine.” She was shaking, she realized distantly. “He didn’t… you got here in time.”
“I saw you being escorted to Naran’s office. I had to wait, but when the alarm went off and you didn’t come back to the cell—” His voice cracked. “I thought—”
“I’m okay.” She reached up, cupping his face in her free hand. “Becsul. I’m okay.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, just for a moment, breathing her in. Then he straightened, his expression turning focused and determined.
“We need to move. Now. The diversion won’t last forever, and Naran is suspicious.”
“I know. He as much as told me so.” She shifted Robbie in her arms. “The shuttle?”
“Waiting.” He took her hand. “Stay close. Don’t let go. No matter what happens.”
She looked at the unconscious guard, then at Becsul’s outstretched hand, then at her son’s wide, trusting eyes.
“Lead the way.”