Chapter 18
Enslak
We moved through the night, using the darkness to cover our approach back toward the ship.
Slowly, methodically, we used every bit of cover the forest provided, slipping past the tracking party in silence.
The Ulkommenian weren't expecting us to double back—they were still pushing deeper into the forest, following the thermal trail we'd deliberately left by running in the opposite direction before dousing ourselves in the cool creek water to mask our heat signatures.
But as we got closer to the clearing, I heard them.
Not just one or two. More. Many more.
I held up my hand, signaling Niki to stop. We crouched behind a massive fallen tree, its trunk easily three meters in diameter, and peered through the undergrowth to count voices.
Seven Ulkommenian stood between us and our ship. They hadn't spotted us yet—still scanning the forest in the wrong direction, weapons held ready. The search party had obviously split into two groups, and we'd run straight into the larger one.
"Shit," Niki breathed beside me, her voice barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. "That's more than we planned for."
I opened my mouth to suggest she stay hidden while I handled them. The words were right there—Stay here. Let me take care of this. I can move faster alone.
But then I caught it. That flash in her eyes. That spark of defiance that told me exactly what she'd think of that plan.
"We can do this," she said, absolute certainty filling her voice. Not bravado. Not false confidence. Just the calm assurance of someone who'd assessed the situation and found it manageable. "We just need to be smart about it."
I studied her face. Her mind was already working, calculating angles and approaches and weaknesses. Her eyes tracked each soldier's position, noting their spacing, their weapons, their blind spots.
"Ideas?" I asked.
"You draw their attention. Make noise, make them focus on you.
I'll flank from the north side—there's better cover there, and the sun's at my back so they'll have trouble seeing me clearly.
" Her eyes never stopped moving, never stopped analyzing.
"When they're distracted, focused on you, I take out as many as I can before they realize I'm there.
" She pulled the blaster from her waistband and grinned.
"That puts you alone—"
"For maybe thirty seconds." Her eyes met mine, and I saw no fear there. Only focus. "Trust me, Enslak. I know what I'm doing."
And I realized I did trust her. Completely. Not just with my life, but with the plan itself. With the execution. With everything.
"Thirty seconds," I agreed. "Then I'm coming for you."
She smiled—fierce and wild and absolutely fearless. "I'm counting on it."
I pulled her to me before I could think better of it.
My mouth found hers with an urgency that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with need.
The need to taste her one more time. To feel her alive and whole against me.
To memorize the way she fit against my body, the way her breath caught when I deepened the kiss.
She made a small sound—surprise, then surrender—and her hands came up to grip my shoulders. Her fingers dug in hard enough to bruise, holding on like she understood exactly what this was.
What it might be.
When I pulled back, her eyes were bright. Fierce. Alive.
"Don't you dare think of that as goodbye," she whispered against my lips. "That's a 'see you in thirty seconds' kiss. Got it?"
I managed something that might have been a smile. Might have been a grimace. "Thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds," she repeated. Then she pressed one more quick, hard kiss to my mouth and stepped back. "Now let's go kill some bastards."
We separated. I watched her slip into the underbrush, moving in utter silence. She flowed between the trees like water, finding paths I couldn't see, using shadows I hadn't noticed. Within seconds, she'd vanished completely.
I gave her a count of twenty, letting her get into position. Then I stepped out of the trees.
"Looking for me?" I called in their clicking language, my voice carrying across the clearing.
Seven heads snapped toward me in perfect unison. Seven weapons rose.
"There!" one shouted. "The subject! He's—"
I charged.
Not toward them—that would be suicide, exactly what they expected.
Instead, I angled away, drawing them from Niki's position and forcing them to spread out.
Blaster fire erupted. Bolts seared past my head close enough that I felt the heat scorch my skin.
One caught my shoulder and spun me sideways.
The pain was immediate and blinding, but I kept moving. Kept them focused on me.
From my peripheral vision, I saw Niki emerge from cover. She raised her blaster with the fluid precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times and fired.
The first Ulkommenian dropped before he even knew she was there. Center mass. Clean kill. He crumpled without a sound.
The second spun toward the sound of her weapon, but Niki was already tracking him, already adjusting her aim. Her bolt caught him in the throat. He collapsed, gurgling, his hands clawing at the wound.
The third managed to raise his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger. Niki's shot punched through his chest before he could fire. He went down hard, his weapon clattering across the ground.
The fourth finally got a bead on her position and squeezed his trigger—but Niki was faster. Her bolt took him in the head. He crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Four down in less than ten seconds.
Three left.
I watched as she lined up the fifth Ulkommenian, her movements still precise, still controlled, her breathing steady despite the adrenaline that must've been flooding her system—
The bolt that emerged was weak. Flickering. It struck his shoulder instead of his chest, barely staggering him.
Click.
The blaster's power cell was dead.
For just a heartbeat, I froze. She was exposed. Vulnerable. The three remaining Ulkommenians were already moving toward her, weapons raised, sensing an opening. I started forward, desperate to intercept, to put myself between her and them—
Then Niki dropped the useless blaster and moved.
What happened next left me breathless.
She didn't retreat. Didn't hesitate. Didn't call for help. She exploded forward with such ferocity that the nearest Ulkommenian actually flinched, his weapon wavering.
He was bigger than her. Stronger. Armed. None of it mattered.
She closed the distance before he could fire, her small frame covering the ground impossibly fast. She grabbed his extended arm—the one holding the blaster—and twisted her body in a way that defied physics.
Using his own weight and momentum against him, she pivoted at the hip and threw him over her shoulder with devastating efficiency.
He crashed into the ground so hard I heard bones break—multiple bones, snapping like dry branches. Before he could even process what happened, she drove her heel into his temple. He went still.
Two left.
The second Ulkommenian tried to back away, desperate to create distance and use his weapon. Niki didn't give him the chance. She moved like water—fluid, unstoppable, finding every opening and exploiting it.
He swung his blaster like a club, trying to use its weight as a weapon.
She ducked under it with inches to spare and stepped inside his guard where his size became a liability.
In one fluid motion, she hooked her leg behind his knee while pulling his upper body forward.
The technique was simple but brutally effective—gravity and leverage instead of strength, sending him tumbling backward.
As he fell, she followed him down, using his momentum to add force to her strike.
Her elbow connected with his solar plexus with a sound like a hammer hitting meat, driving the air from his lungs in an explosive gasp.
Before he could recover, before he could draw breath, she struck his throat with the edge of her hand—a precise blow that crushed his windpipe.
He stopped moving.
One left.
The final Ulkommenian had seen enough. He tried to run, tried to create space, tried to bring his weapon to bear while backing away. His eyes were wide with the kind of fear that made people slow and clumsy.
Niki caught him, snaking her arm around his neck as she used her body weight to pull him off balance. He was easily twice her size, but she didn't try to overpower him—just leverage, technique, the precise application of force at exactly the right angle.
She hooked her leg around his, twisted her hips with perfect timing, and sent him crashing face-first into the ground. The impact stunned him, his body going momentarily limp. She kept her grip, adjusting her position, applying pressure to his neck with mechanical efficiency.
He struggled. Thrashed. Tried to throw her off with his superior strength.
She held on, her technique flawless, her control absolute. Within seconds, his movements slowed. Then stopped.
She released him and stood, breathing hard but controlled.
Seven down. In less than a minute.
I stared at her, my mouth open, cataloging what I'd just witnessed with something close to awe. She hadn't relied on strength—she'd used technique. Intelligence. Training. She'd turned her opponents' size and power into weaknesses, redirecting their momentum and mass against them.
Every movement had been purposeful. Efficient. Lethal.
The blaster had been a tool. Useful for distance, efficient for quick kills. But watching her fight with nothing but her hands and her training, I understood something profound: the weapon had never been the source of her power.
She was the weapon.
Niki stood in the center of the carnage, blood on her knuckles—not all of it hers. Her chest heaved with exertion, sweat running down her face, but her eyes were clear. Focused. She looked up at me, and I saw the warrior I'd somehow failed to recognize until this moment.
Not someone who needed my protection.