Chapter 27
The soft beep of his vambrace woke him. It took Mace a second to realize where he was, why contentment enveloped him, warm. Why tranquility felt like a protective shield.
He’d been sleeping in the barracks so long, his own bed felt unfamiliar.
Nia’s cheek rested against the curve of his shoulder, her lips against his chest. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his uniform at his sternum, like she prevented his escape, and her knees were wedged between his thighs.
Stars above, he never wanted to move. It felt too right, too perfect.
He’d tried to stay away from her. All it did was cause problems. He’d always listened to his instincts before this, they’d never led him astray, and he should have done so with Nia too.
They screamed at him to keep her as close as possible.
His vambrace beeped again, and he shifted his body enough to see the panel. Incoming communiques, morning announcements, the automatic reminder his tyros started training in a few minutes—it all marked the beginning of the day, one he’d rather ignore if it meant he could keep holding Nia.
But him not returning to work after leaving without an explanation would only create more problems, give Cache more reasons to follow through on her threats. If adhering to their regular schedule kept Nia safer, then that’s what he needed to do.
“Nia?” He lifted his hand to run his knuckles along her cheek. Her eyes remained closed, her lips parted.
Sleep made her appear younger than her years. The guilt, the thought he should have left her behind, tried to reemerge, but he pushed it away. Regret had no place between them anymore.
He cupped her cheek, then pressed his lips to her forehead. “Nia.”
“Mmmm?” she murmured, snuggling deeper into the fluffy bedding.
The action made his chest feel like it wanted to explode. She trusted him.
He ran his hand along her arm to her fingers and took them in his own. “It’s time to get up, Nia.”
Her eyes popped open, body stiffening. For a split second, he thought she would push him away and scramble to her feet, but she relaxed into his embrace.
A small smile curved her lips. “Morning.”
“Morning.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I need to get to work soon.”
She furrowed her brow. “What were you doing when I found you yesterday? Dee called it training.”
“That’s what I do. I train tyros to become warriors.”
Her eyes widened. “Mace,” she said, her tone stern. “How old were they?”
He thought about it for a moment. “That group ranged from about twelve to fifteen.”
She lurched upright, her breaths shortening. “The stuff the CORE says about child soldiers is true?”
He placed a comforting hand on the back of her neck. “They’ll train for years and won’t be sent into battle until their age of majority.”
“Please don’t tell me the age of majority here is sixteen.”
“Nineteen.”
Tension eased from her spine. “It’s still so young.”
“And the same age as CORE soldiers.”
She shook her head even though she must know he was right, then scrubbed her hands over her face. “Ugh! I hate this. I hate it all. I hate the death and the torture and the violence.” Her breath left her on a whoosh.
Mace ran his hand over her spine. “If I could change reality for you, izar, I would.”
A strained chuckle left her lips, then she looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were sad, but there was something else there too. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She pushed herself to stand, and his hand dropped away.
“You should receive more compliments.”
“Oh, I’ve received compliments,” she said as she headed toward the washroom. “But no one’s offered to alter the solar system for me before.” The door closed behind her.
Mace remained where he was, listening to her move around inside the washroom. She might have thought his words insincere, but they were true. If he had the power to change this war between their people, he’d do it for her.
Brushing the thought aside, he stood and went to the refrigeration unit for rations. He thought about pulling something for Nia as well, then decided to let her choose her own. She’d never shown favoritism toward her morning meal, picking something different every time he’d shared it with her.
She emerged from the washroom a few minutes later, face pink like she’d scrubbed it clean, then scurried to the kitchen. Grabbing some rations out of the unit, she came to sit across from him.
They ate in silence. It wasn’t awkward like it had been before, but companionable. Nia’s eyes kept darting to him, then away, the small smile she’d given him earlier, returning.
He felt his own curl his lip.
The door to his quarters beeped, signaling someone on the other side. While Nia took their ration containers to reclamation, he strode over and touched the control panel.
Elec stood on the other side and straightened to his full height when he saw him.
“Oh, Commander. I didn’t realize you’d be here.” The younger warrior’s gaze skimmed to where Nia moved behind him, then resettled on Mace—then the scratches at his throat. His eyes bulged.
Mace pressed his lips together. He really needed to get his hands on a regenerator to heal those marks. Just the visible ones, though. He liked the rest.
Nia’s hand slid into his, and his whole body twitched before he returned the squeeze of her fingers. Elec tracked the action, his head tilting to the side.
Mace didn’t look at Nia when he said, “Meet us at family medicine.”
Elec jumped to attention. “Understood.” Then he made a quick and unnecessary salute. “Sir.” Shaking his head, he hurried away.
They followed, but Mace kept their pace slow so they’d ride the next lift. The entire way to the medical bay, Nia kept her hand in his. He remembered how she hadn’t wanted to touch when she’d arrived, even through clothing.
In front of the med bay doors, he turned to her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift.”
Her gaze met his. “You don’t have to if you’re busy.”
“I want to.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “I’d like that,” she said, the color rising in her cheeks.
He couldn’t resist. Mace pulled her close and brushed his lips across her temple, not caring who in the corridor saw them. When her hands grasped his forearms, fingernails biting through the material of his uniform, the urge to really kiss her made him grip her shoulders tighter.
Instead, he stepped away, touched the control for the door, and ushered her in. A line of people waited at the side of the room, every med bed with someone on it. Nia glanced at him one last time, her small smile returning, before the door slid shut between them.
After a beat, Mace continued on to training, his chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks, years even.
The tyros were already warming up when he arrived at the matted arena, one group running laps the other doing a range of stretching.
“Switch!” he yelled, though he didn’t know how long they’d been in their set. From the grumbling, it probably hadn’t been long.
“You’re in a good mood,” Grey commented, coming to stand beside him.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mace side-eyed him. How could Grey tell? He’d only been there a couple minutes.
His friend shrugged. “You’ve been doing an hour or two in one of the rooms before lessons, but today you’ve only just arrived. Switch!” he shouted.
Instead of addressing Grey’s observation, Mace shot him an “I don’t care about your opinion” glance and joined the tyros running the outer edge of the mats. He pushed on some speed, taunting them to keep pace. They didn’t disappoint.
The day progressed as any other. Warm up changed into sparring. Grey and he took turns with smaller groups, improving their skills.
It was the first time Mace had felt engaged in a lesson in weeks.
The tyros broke into pairs to grapple. Grey and he circled around the mat, giving pointers. Mace opened his mouth to praise Shand, when the deck beneath his feet rumbled.
All the tyros halted to look around. On instinct, Mace braced his legs apart. Another explosion shuddered closer, the boom loud enough to hurt his ears. Tyros tumbled to the ground, losing their balance. Heart beating fast, he met Grey’s wide eyes. This wasn’t some sort of malfunction.
Mace glanced at his vambrace. “Fuck.” Information streamed from the command center, Cache calling warriors to arms.
A third explosion rocked through the station. The bulkheads groaned under the strain, then the lights darkened to quarter luminosity.
Battle-readiness raced through him. “Everyone to the weapons lockers!” Mace yelled over the next explosion. “Tyros, you’re with me.”
He had to get to Nia. Her tracker light remained in the med bay, connected to Orion’s systems. He sent a message to Elec, telling him to protect her at all costs.
Warriors and tyros scurried, grabbing weapons, armor, and forming teams. Mace checked the charge of his weapon and added a second thigh holster to his arsenal along with a pulse rifle strapped to his back.
The explosions stopped, an eerie silence remaining in the aftermath. Mace received one last communique from the command center: Four engine cores blown. CORE contact confirmed. Weapons and shields down. Enemy forces boarding. Station-wide evacuation order—
The feed cut off.
Fuck.
Spiro and Betel met them in the main corridor. The tyros held weapons they hadn’t been cleared to use yet, their eyes betraying their excitement and fear. Mace glanced at the youngest in the group. Freya stared back at him, a glint of determination in her eyes.
He’d told Nia he wouldn’t put a child in battle, and he hadn’t. The CORE had done it for him.
He broke the tyros into four groups, led by Grey, Spiro, Betel, and himself, then addressed his students. “We are your unit leaders. Follow orders. We’ll take any civilians we find along the way. Under no circumstances do you play hero. Your main objective is to get off this station alive and meet at the rendezvous point. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
A nod at his three friends and he pressed his back to the bulkhead next to the door. Another warrior was at ready with a smoke grenade if they needed it. Mace opened the door. All was silent in the corridor. He poked his head out. Nothing.
He and two warriors fanned out into the fifth level of the atrium, scanning above the barrel of their weapons, searching for the enemy. Besides a few Tellusians scrambling to get to their evacuation ships, there were no defenders.
“Clear,” Mace said, and the groups of tyros and warriors entered the corridor.
They couldn’t take the lifts, not with their numbers, and not during an attack with low power. Warriors secured ropes to the railings within seconds, throwing them over.
Mace glanced at his vambrace, watching for any unknown life signs as the first of the tyros and warriors climbed over the railing to rappel. Nia’s light moved toward the evacuation bay.
The last of the tyros repelled over the edge. He and Grey followed. Wind whistled lightly as they flew down the rope. Mace’s feet hit the deck, his gun up in the next second as he scanned the area for threats. He jogged over to the tyros in defensive positions at the edge of the deserted main level vendors.
Mace signaled the group to move out, but Grey stopped abruptly, turning. Mace felt it too: a heartbeat of absolute quiet.
Enemy fire burst through the atrium.