CHAPTER TEN
Priya
I woke at dawn with Vesh’s hand on my breast. Not in the fun place.
Over the flight suit, unfortunately. His palm was warm and heavy beneath the thermal layer.
My back fit against his chest, my head under his chin, and one of his thighs was wedged between mine.
Apparently we’d shifted in our sleep. A lot.
The hard length pressed against my ass suggested he was awake too.
“Morning,” I said.
“Do not move.”
“Again?”
His fingers tightened once against my stomach. “The core is stable. I am not.” I smiled into the dim cockpit. “Good to know.”
“Priya.”
The warning in my name had lost some of its power now that I knew exactly how he sounded with his fingers inside me. Actually, that was a lie. It had become significantly more powerful.
“Hours,” I reminded him.
“When we are safe.”
“You keep moving the goalposts.”
“I do not know what that means.”
“Convenient.”
Red light crept across the cracked canopy as the sun cleared the horizon. Vesh removed his hand from my breast and sat up. I missed the warmth immediately.
“Core at twelve percent,” he said. “Pressure stable. Port engine damaged but functional. One starboard attitude jet responds intermittently.”
“So basically factory condition.”
“If the factory were operated by your bitter-root tea manufacturer.”
I turned to look at him. “That was a joke.”
“We have more important problems.”
“Still counting it.”
He climbed into the copilot seat and activated the passive optics.
The system came online reluctantly, image stuttering across the main display.
The sun had changed the view beyond the moon.
From our landing site, we could see past the debris ring to a shipyard hanging above Xandrax.
It was larger than any of the yards we’d recorded the day before.
A vast framework of metal surrounded a single unfinished ship.
At first, my brain refused to understand the scale.
“Vesh. Is that ship attached to the yard?”
“No. The yard is attached to the ship.”
He increased magnification. The vessel filled the display. It was longer than Moon Base Arturri, with multiple engine rings and weapon placements large enough to be visible from kilometers away. Construction craft moved across its hull like insects.
“What is it?”
“Nothing in our fleet has a designation for that class.”
“That’s a very military way to say you have no idea.”
“I have no idea.”
That scared me more. Vesh started the recorder. The passive array captured the ship, the scaffold, the cargo traffic, and every energy signature it could reach.
“Bigger than Arturri,” he said. “Mobile. Heavily armed. If those drive rings function at the projected output, it could break a planetary defense grid on its own.”
“Can it destroy a planet?”
“I don't know.”
“That is reassuring.”
“It was not intended to be.”
He marked sections of the hull. “There. Shield generators. At least twenty. And those openings along the central spine are launch bays.”
“For Scythes?”
“Hundreds of them. Perhaps more.”
I looked at Xandrax beyond the shipyard. Queen Raya was supposed to be defeated. Instead, someone had given her the resources to build a mobile war platform the size of a freaking planet. This was like the Death Star from Star Wars, only worse because it was real.
“The unknown freighters,” I said. “That’s what they were feeding.”
“Most likely.”
“Can we figure out where they are coming from?”
“Not from here. Intelligence may be able to trace the engine signatures.”
“If we get it home.”
“When.”
I glanced at him. “Was that optimism?”
“An order.”
“Not how optimism works.”
The threat alarm flashed. One short pulse. Then another. Vesh cut the optics and brought up the tactical display. A Scythe interceptor had entered the debris ring on a low patrol route. Its active sensor sweep moved across the moon’s surface toward us.
“Did it see us?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
The sweep touched the Wraith. The display turned red.
“Now it has,” he said.
The interceptor changed course. A narrow transmission beam appeared on the tactical display, aimed toward Xandrax.
“It’s reporting us.”
Vesh activated the damaged jammer. “I can corrupt the signal while it remains behind the moon.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-six seconds before our jammer burns out. Less if it climbs above the horizon.”
“Can we shoot it from here?”
“One forward round. The firing system will not lock at this range.”
“Manual?”
“Yes. If we are close enough.”
The Scythe accelerated toward us. I dropped into the pilot’s seat and pulled the harness tight across my bruised ribs.
“Can the Wraith fly?” Vesh asked.
“Define fly.”
“Leave the surface under control.”
“Probably.”
“Remain in the air?”
“Let’s not get greedy.”
The interceptor cleared the edge of the debris ring, guns charging.
“Twenty seconds,” Vesh said.
I powered the port engine. The Wraith vibrated but did not move. “Come on, beautiful,” I whispered. “Don’t kill us.”
Vesh looked at me.
“Tavik’s line,” I said. “It felt appropriate.”
Something fierce moved across his face. He put one hand against the console. “All right, beautiful. You heard the female. Lift.”
I pushed the engine past its safety limit. The Wraith tore free of the rock. Her damaged side dragged. I fired the one working starboard jet. It coughed, caught, and brought our nose level three meters above the surface. Energy fire struck the ground behind us.
“Fourteen seconds,” Vesh said. “Interceptor closing from aft.”
“Can it see our weapon status?”
“Yes.”
“Then it knows we only have one round.”
“It will stay outside manual range and call the fleet the moment our jammer fails.”
“Unless it thinks we can’t launch.”
“We have already launched.”
“Not for long.” I cut the engine. The Wraith dropped. We hit the surface, bounced once, and slid behind a ridge. Rock fragments sprayed past the canopy.
“Priya.”
“Make us look dead.”
Vesh understood. He shut down the jammer, the core, and every surviving system at once. The cockpit went black.
“Its transmission?” I whispered.
“Blocked by the ridge. It must leave us behind to reestablish the beam.”
The Scythe passed overhead. I felt the vibration through the hull. The pilot banked, circling back for visual confirmation.
“It will fire into the wreckage,” Vesh said.
“I know.”
“We have no power.”
“Not yet.”
“You are doing the three-second thing again.”
“You liked it in the sim.”
“I survived it in the sim.”
The interceptor turned toward us. Its shadow moved over the ridge.
“Now,” I said.
Vesh slammed the core online. I fired the engine. The Wraith shot over the ridge directly at the Scythe. The enemy pilot had expected a wreck. For one second, the interceptor continued toward us without firing. That second was all I needed.
The Scythe rolled and its cockpit rotated into the center of our display.
“Now.”
Vesh fired our last round. The projectile struck the Scythe’s canopy at point-blank range.
The interceptor came apart in a silent burst of light and metal.
Debris hammered the Wraith. Something cracked above my head.
I kept the port engine at full power and drove us through the explosion before the ship’s remains could trap us against the surface.
Then we were above the debris ring. No threat alarm.
No transmission. Only Xandrax filling the sky and one very dead Scythe falling behind us.
“Did it report?” I asked.
Vesh checked the passive receiver. “No completed transmission.”
“Core?”
“Nine percent.”
“Of course it is.” My hands started shaking. I left them on the controls. Vesh stared at me. “What?”
“You crashed us a second time.”
“Landed aggressively.”
“Then you launched without power, flew directly at a Scythe, and gave me one second to make an impossible shot.”
“Closer to two.”
He laughed. The sound burst out of him, rough and disbelieving.
I started laughing, too. Not because anything was funny.
Because we were alive, the enemy was dead, and if I didn’t laugh I was going to start screaming and never stop.
Vesh pulled me across the console and kissed me.
Hard. Fast. His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me close while I gripped his uniform.
The bond carried his adrenaline into mine until I couldn’t tell whose heart was trying to break free. He tore his mouth away first.
“You are incredible,” he said.
“I nearly killed us twice.”
His thumb moved across my cheek. “I thought flying with you would make me hesitate. You do the opposite.”
The look in his eyes stole the joke I was about to make. But that wasn't enough. I was still hurt. Still rejected. Unwanted. The bondmate he'd refused to claim. Touch.
“Put it in your report,” I said instead.
“Priya. I was an idiot last night. Forgive me.”
That was not a request, it was a command. The truth was, I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted the hours he’d promised. I wanted a bed, a locked door, and at least one day without someone shooting at us.
The core warning sounded. “I hate this ship,” I said.
“No, you do not.”
“Not even a little.”
We separated and went back to work. Vesh plotted a route away from the moon that did not intersect any previously plotted mission vectors, extraction points, or Alliance patrols.
“Command will expect us here,” he said, marking the assigned extraction point. “If the traitor knows we survived, that position will be watched.”
“So we don’t use it.”
“We go around the debris fields between Xandrax and the Gate. No one in command knows this route.”
“How do you?”
“I created it after Tavik died and forgot to put it in any of my reports."
Of course he had. Six years of flying alone and trusting no one had produced exactly the escape route we needed.
“How dangerous?”
“Very.”
“You need a more descriptive vocabulary.”
“Would you prefer terrifying?”
“No, very is fine.”
Grinning, he transferred the route to my display. It ran through Xandraxian patrol space, two unstable debris fields, and several hours of open dark before reaching the Gate.
“The core will not make it that far,” I said.
“No. We will need to stop and cool it before we make the final run.”
“Somewhere the enemy can’t see us.”
“I have options.” The way he said it suggested his options were all illegal, dangerous, or both.
“Vesh?”
He went very still. “Yes.”
My heart climbed into my throat. “If we don't make it, I need you to know I have no regrets. Not one. I am glad you came for me. Glad I got to know you.”
“Stop. We are going home."
"I don't have a home." Sadder words had never been spoken, at least not by me.
But they were true. My apartment back on Earth was nothing but beige walls, beige carpet and a bunch of shit I didn't care about.
My friends lived too far away. My mother was…
well, my mother. And Vesh? He'd made his feelings clear last night.
His near-death apology didn't mean anything.
As soon as we were back at base—assuming we made it back—he'd revert back to Mr. I Can't Take Risks and I'd be alone, crying myself to sleep. Again.
“You deserve better than a declaration made in a dying ship.” His hand covered mine on the controls.
Excuses. I pulled my hand free and guided the ship to Vesh's secret route. We carried proof of the traitor, proof of Queen Raya’s new weapon, one failing engine, and nine percent power. It would have to be enough.