Chapter Fourteen
Way Out West
Zephyron burst from the canyon mist, rain slicking his blood-smeared chest. No armor. No blade. Just a jagged rock clutched in one massive hand.
A simian creature with too many elbows and claws leaped from a ledge. Zephyron caught it by the throat and slammed it head-first into the canyon wall.
A clay boulder-looking Zerlite charged next with its four stubby legs.
Zephyron pivoted and drove his knee into its wide forehead, then brought the stone down between its eyes.
It slumped, staggered like animated sludge, then leaked thick grit from its mouth.
A crab-creature hissed, then launched. It met stone and split, yellow-black fluid sizzling into wet sand.
He turned and screamed toward the swarm. The canyon stilled as they saw how quickly he killed other Zerlites. The horde retreated, scattering back into the cracks and shadows like cockroaches.
Zephyron stood, and his shoulders heaved with effort, blood and rain. His gaze found me across the battlefield with my nanite claws red with blood. He stared and checked if any Zerlites were still near me.
"Did you vanquish our foe?" The tone was of someone who already knew but had to ask.
I motioned to the others. "With help."
His eyes flicked briefly to Axios, his hammers half-raised, and to Solis, who had cracked her faceplate in battle. Parker breathed heavily and gestured to his drone, which hovered at his feet like a loyal pet.
Zephyron's gaze returned to me and my clawed glove. Do I see actual pride?
A faint cackle vibrated through the canyon, and a shadow dropped, clutching a long, jagged piece of transport wreckage. Zephyron turned as the sharp tip plunged repeatedly into his chest. The creature hung, using its body weight to slice the blade further down.
The metal caught on bone as the Zerlite swung, shrieking with high-pitched glee.
"No!"
Axios and Solis were closer, and the smallest Sim lunged first. A hammer-hand smashed into the creature with precision. Solis then sliced the remains several times as if to ensure it would never rise again.
Zephyron swayed before his knees buckled. I rushed forward and caught him as he slumped and collapsed. I grunted under his weight as my arms locked around him. He glanced down with drooping eyelids.
"Zephyron! Stay with me, Hon!" His blood turned sticky on my armor, sharp with a copper metal scent beneath the rain.
His head tilted, and for the second time in minutes, he really looked at me. "Thomas...," his voice came out ragged, barely more than a whisper.
"Don't talk. We'll get help. Axios, Solis! Do something! Can you inject him with nanites or anything?"
Solis crouched beside me, her cracked faceplate dimming. "They are programmed for DuraMetal. An injection may alter his organs, and his injuries are already severe."
"No first aid? You know... medical?"
"Oh dear, we are not programmed beyond the basics. We are not medical models."
"And we are on reserve power," finished Axios.
I clenched my jaw, my hands trembling as I held Zephyron closer. This couldn't happen. Not now. Not after everything. "Parker, get your drone in the air and find his speedster."
It lifted and rotated, taking in the wet desert.
"No love..." Zephyron's lips trembled, and his hand brushed my cheek. The spark of life was still here, but his breathing hitched.
Parker's drone spun in ever-widening circles, searching like a bird of prey before it dipped and flew back. "Found it!" Parker pointed to the horizon. "It's stuck in a dune just over the ridge and... I guess it's on me to get it." He let out a curse word, then sprinted.
My hands pressed against the torn muscle, trying to hold in the blood.
Solis cut the clothes under my armor into long strips, and I wrapped them around Zephyron's chest. After a few minutes, a sputtering sound came as if something both sped and braked.
Parker lurched forward on a long, floating 'motorcycle' as his drone instructed him on which yoke and lever to move.
"Axios, Solis!" I shouted. "Can one of you fly the speedster? We need to get him to the palace."
Solis hesitated, and her cracked faceplate twitched. The voice dragged out like an old tape player on nearly drained batteries. "My Dear, our reserves will not make the trip."
Axios chimed in, "There is not enough space for all." He said it with the tone of someone expected to be left behind, with hidden Zerlites in the distance.
"Transform yourselves so you can attach to the speedster, then power off. I want a medical transport for the end, so Zephyron and I can fit."
"Transformation may cost our minds completely," Axios said. "The core memory will endure, but not the additions from Parker. We would no longer be us."
My chest tightened. "I can't ask you to erase... destroy yourselves."
Solis' voice was calm. "And you have not, for we choose."
They exchanged a brief glance, and mechanical brains processed my desire. With whirring gears and the screech of metal, their bodies transformed. Solis elongated, and her arms stretched into sleek wings to give the speedster lift. Axios grew bulkier and widened into a sturdy platform.
Parker's drone descended and extended tendrils over the front. "For lift," Parker offered, his voice tight. "Not much, but it'll help."
"Thanks! Let's move."
"You mean, fly." Parker pushed the yoke forward. This time, the 'bike' flew with more confidence.
The flight back was mostly silent, with the anti-gravity engine hum as the only sound. Several times we attempted to contact the palace, but Parker's camera and the speeder's radio were damaged. I glanced down at Zephyron's face, now pale-white and slack. His words from earlier echoed in my mind.
No love.
Was it a command? A confession? Or was he accusing me of... not loving him back?
This mating had started as a political fix for peace between our worlds, and to save my father. Everything else wasn't supposed to matter. So why did the idea of a world without that grumpy warrior feel so cold even under a blazing sun?
***
We burst into the palace, the echoes of our hurried footsteps bouncing off the grand, hollow halls. The staff swarmed around us, and soon a pair of Dara medics appeared. "Take him to surgery," one of them commanded. "Prepare for emergency regenerative procedures and stasis field."
I stood there, my hands stained with Zephyron's blood, as they whisked him away. The moment he disappeared behind tall, silver doors, the weight of it all crashed down. My legs gave out. More doctors rushed to tend to us.
Hours passed. Maybe more. I couldn't tell.
The palace felt too quiet; the earlier frenzy from numerous Zerlite attacks was replaced by an oppressive stillness.
I sat in a corner of the medical wing, staring blankly at holographic updates of the attacks.
Volardi and Sandari paid a price for my decision, but thankfully not the ultimate one.
It was as if a tornado had gone through LA, taking out all the iconic buildings and somehow leaving people alive. The Sandari had already begged for help.
How much worse did I make their lives?
Axios and Solis lay nearby, still fused into aerodynamic wings and a transport cart. Their red essence crystals pulsed like slow heartbeats, with wires trailing to a glowing wall-mounted power source.
Volardi techs said reformation was possible, but unlikely. The crystals could be transplanted into new bodies, but fragments would be lost and cracked beyond repair. It wouldn't be them, just close. Certainly not the ones who gave their lives.
Like Zephyron gave up his blade. The image of his fight with nothing but a rock replayed in my thoughts. He spared my father's life. I'm grateful, but that gesture of mercy cost him dearly.
Again, I remembered. No love. The words he had spoken earlier, now echoed.
"Palace AI, contact Parker and have him meet me outside the medical facility, please."
A few minutes later, he came, his normally easygoing demeanor replaced by slower, heavier steps. He carried his muscle-car-designed drone in one hand; its camera lens was slightly scratched but still operational. "It recharges faster if I carry it." His cheeks puffed out. "How's the big guy?"
"The medics say they did everything they could, but it's slow. The nanites aren't instant like with Alen back on Earth."
Parker frowned. "Why not?"
My frustration bubbled to the surface. "It's a 'Sudo cultural thing' and a way for their ancestors to communicate."
"Okay, this I have to hear."
"The Volardi don't use combat-grade nanites unless they're officially at war, like the Gloom War or when Alen saved us back on Earth. It's considered dishonorable for everyday use. They see it as cheating death during peacetime and making it hard for the dead to communicate or punish if needed."
"Okay..."
I jabbed a finger toward the recovery center. "I overheard whispers that his dead mates are angry at me and Earth. That's why the Zerlites attacked him and his kingdom. I was their instrument of vengeance."
Parker's brow furrowed. "That's incredibly stupid. No offense."
"Tell me about it," I muttered. "It's more than that, I think. The wounds were deep and yes, jagged metal sliced through vital organs. He's in a modified stasis field with nanites tending to the worst injuries, but it's not enough. He should be fine... if a little sore."
"Have you seen him?"
"No. I can tell the doctors hate me for what I did, and legally I'm in limbo. I'm someone's Intended, which means something, but I can't order the staff. Only the official mate can."
"Why aren't you official? Doesn't it happen once you, you know."
I sniffed. "He's kept his distance. Physically and emotionally. Maybe it's custom, or it's me."
Parker shifted his weight. His fingers drummed against his red, metal drone.
"I know that look. What's going on?"
"Well, I got footage from the fight," he said finally. "It recorded everything. It's incredible, Thomas. The kind of stuff documentaries are made of. I should be over the moon or double moons, I guess."
"I don't understand."
"Your buddy Brandon," he whispered. "I never saw him light up the way he did until his old superhero show came back on the air. At first, I thought, he missed The Biz, you know? After Hollywood called him a 'Has Been' for years, he's back, but no."
"Alen," I said, referring to my friend's alien husband.
"It was in his body language radiating out to everyone. He stood taller, smiled easier, and got that haunted look when his lover was in danger. Like you're doing now."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you." His unblinking gaze met mine. "You care about Zephyron. Not when introduced, of course, but something between now and then happened."
He watched my silence before continuing. "I know how to read people. It's my job. The Sandari have their own ways of showing emotion, which I'm learning to get, but the Volardi? They're practically Human with their facial tics, smiles, and emotions."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Zephyron's lying. About not loving you." Parker whispered to his camera, and a still from the battle appeared. Zephyron—bloody and raging—reached toward me, his mouth opened wide.
"He screamed a Sudo phrase I had translated by others in the palace, just to be certain," Parker said. "Officially, it says 'I exchange my mate in my place.' Unofficially, it's a vow to take the pain of someone you love."
I blinked. "He doesn't even like me."
He brought up the med report. "Then explain why he's not healing. The damage was bad, sure, but the medics say he's stable, and the nanites should be doing more. It's almost as if he's resisting them, like he believes he deserves to die."
Parker held up his finger in the 'give me a moment' gesture.
"The Volardi don't have psychiatrists as such.
They believe in family giving help or dealing with trauma themselves.
" His voice lowered, "Two of his mates died under his watch.
Another was nearly killed. He doesn't see himself as worthy of having anyone. .. or you."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Parker's expression turned grim. "If he dies, you're free to go back to Earth. That would be a disaster for Human-Volardi relations, but he's thinking about you."
"He said there was 'no love!'"
"Thomas?" Parker asked, softer now. "What happens when someone loves you and believes it isn't returned?
He's lost two mates. Now he sees you, unhappy.
Not with this desert world, but with him.
The Volardi believe in fate, signs, and cosmic timing.
To him, the universe is telling him to let you go. "
He paused, studying me.
I couldn't claim it was love with a capital L, but Zephyron wasn't the same cold jerk I'd met on Earth. We deserved more time, and we might not get it.
"There's more," Parker said. "Right now, everything: his title, land, even this palace, it's all in limbo with the Empire."
"I don't care about stuff."
"Not what I meant. The Volardi don't leave patients in stasis long-term. A few days, maybe. After that, they say it's the spirits calling someone home. Without a stronger mating status? You don't have the authority to ask them to keep him alive."
I froze.
"If he doesn't improve soon, they'll end the stasis. Let nature or their messages from beyond take over."
"And the sperm sample?" I asked.
"Eventually sealed. It's in limbo too, though you might have a claim..." His eyes widened. "No. No! I didn't mean you should use it!"
"You didn't, but it's happening, and I'm not letting him go."
***