Chapter 13 #2
The compound is quiet by late afternoon.
The cleaning bots whir through the rooms on their regular patrol.
The cats have curled up in odd corners like they can sense the tension in the air.
Jasper watches me from the top of a shelf with his tail twitching.
Abby is under the kitchen table pretending she’s invisible.
I’ve packed a small bag with my tablet, my research files, and a spare change of clothes.
Not that I expect to go anywhere. But when I was a kid my mom used to say always keep a bag ready, just in case life throws you a twist, and the habit has stuck with me into adulthood.
Old journalists’ instinct. Old refugee’s instinct, too, since my grandmother fled the Hurlians twice before she made it to Singapore for a new life.
Texon comes in from the yard. His braided hair is pulled back and he’s dressed in dark clothes and boots with his blasting tools strapped to his belt. He looks devastating.
I do not say this out loud.
He crosses the room and stops in front of me. Close enough that I have to tip my head back to see his face. “I don’t like this. I would much rather have you secretly hiding in employee housing with the others. ”
“I know.”
“I want you safe. What if I can’t protect you again? Last time you were—”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll follow all instructions and I’ll be careful. This is our opportunity to end this, tonight, so that we can be together and the rest of you can live in peace.”
His gloved hand comes up and he cups my cheek. He leans in, so close, almost kissing me. He inhales my scent and then let’s go and stands back. “When this is over,” he says quietly.
I almost melt into a puddle on the floor. “When this is over,” I agree.
He gives a curt nod. Already, he’s shifting into whatever version of himself kills trained attackers. My sweet grumpy male disappears behind the face of a miner who will do whatever it takes to keep his family alive.
Gods, I love him.
Oh.
Huh.
That’s the first time I’ve let myself think it in those exact words. I file it away for later, because the sun is starting to set and we have a trap to spring.
Night falls fast on Timbur.
One minute the sky is a soft gold-purple, the two green moons just beginning to rise. The next, the whole jungle is dark, and the only light comes from the windows of the compound and the soft glow of personal crystals tucked into pockets.
Chief positions everyone. I watch him do it from my spot at the kitchen window.
Scar slips out with his surveillance tech to work the perimeter, he’ll monitor everything and feed updates through the comms. Heavy and Cannibal take the two main approaches, one covering the front street, one the side path through the jungle.
Texon stays near me because there is not a single scenario in this universe where Texon of Twenty-Four is not going to be within fifteen feet of me tonight.
Rook gets the back perimeter.
Roxy and Jana are stationed inside the main house with me. This was a compromise. Roxy wanted to be outside. Jana wanted to be wherever Heavy was.
Chief overruled both of them. “If anyone gets through,” he told them, “you’re the last line. Ines is the target. She does not leave that house.”
Roxy accepted this on the condition that she got a blasting rod.
Jana accepted it on the condition that she could stand wherever she wanted inside the house, which is how she ended up at the kitchen island with a full knife roll laid out on the counter like she’s about to prep a banquet.
I don’t ask why she brought her professional knives to a home invasion.
I assume it’s because Jana does not believe in being without her knives.
Roxy stands at the other window, scanning the yard. She looks like she’s been waiting for this her whole life.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“I’m fantastic.”
“You sure?”
“Ines.” She turns to me. Her eyes are bright. “A male who helped murder the parents of the family I married into is about to walk into our front yard. I have been waiting to meet him in person for two rotations. I am fantastic.”
Okay then.
We wait.
An hour passes. Then another. The compound creaks and settles the way houses do at night. Someone’s cooler hums in the kitchen. The cats have gone quiet. My heart is making a noise loud enough that I’m sure every Xylan in the compound can hear it, which is embarrassing.
“They’ll come,” Texon says quietly. He’s at the window beside me, watching the yard.
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s arrogant and afraid at the same time. That’s the worst combination. It makes beings reckless.”
“You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.”
“I have spent my entire adult life hating Kryzon of Twelve. I know exactly how he thinks.”
I look up at him. The planes of his face are lit by the soft blue glow of his personal crystal in his pocket. He looks carved.
“Texon.”
“Hmm?”
“If anything happens—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“But if—”
“Ines. Nothing. Is going to happen. To you.”
His voice is flat. Final.
Scar’s whistle cuts through the night.
Low. Sharp. The warning signal.
Every Xylan and human in the compound snaps to attention at once. Texon goes rigid beside me, his claw already on my arm, pulling me back from the window.
“They’re here,” he says.
I expect Xylan. Maybe six of them, like before. Maybe Kryzon and a handful of his old crew trying one more desperate attempt.
That is not what comes out of the jungle.
What comes out of the jungle is green. They emerge in a tight tactical formation, six, then eight, then twelve, spreading out as they move.
Green-skinned and muscled like they were grown in a lab.
Short green horns curl back from their foreheads.
They’re wearing armor. They’re carrying weapons that definitely do not belong on a mining planet.
“Green Horns,” I breathe.
“Mercenaries.” Texon’s voice has gone deep. “Off-planet. He hired them.”
“How did they even—”
“The transporter disk. They came in quietly overnight. Must have.”
Holy crap.
This is not a crew. This is a small army.
And then the Fever Brothers start fighting, and I forget how to think.