Chapter 7
Cody
We step off the ramp into the hangar. It's dim and cavernous, dust motes drifting through the shafts of light pouring in from the open door. Without a word, the group turns and heads outside to take a look at the surrounding world. When we step outside, Ceraste hits me with everything it has.
The suns are brutal.
I've trained in deserts before. I've trained in the Mojave, the Sonoran, and even had a brief stint in the Sahara during a joint exercise, but nothing compares to this.
The dual Cerastean suns blaze down with an intensity that makes me feel like a pizza sliding into a brick oven.
I'm half-convinced I can feel my skin crisping.
I stare at the alien architecture soaring overhead. The sky is blue with a slight lavender tinge. A fine dusting of glittering golden sand seems to cover everything. A thousand details that should have me gaping like a tourist. But despite all of it, my gaze continually drifts to A'Vanti.
She walks at my side, her shoulders squared, her chin lifted.
She's in practical field gear like the rest of us, not her usual colorful robes, but she still looks like she belongs here in a way that makes my chest ache.
This is her world. Her home. And watching her reclaim it, even just these first tentative steps, I realize something with a clarity that catches me off guard.
I'd follow her anywhere.
The thought settles into my bones with a weight that should terrify me. We've known each other for months, not years. One kiss – one world-changing, earth-shattering kiss – and a handful of moments stolen between duties and briefings. It's not enough time to feel this certain about anything.
But I am.
It's the same gut-deep certainty I felt the first time I watched a fighter jet tear across the sky. That instant, inexplicable knowing that changed the entire trajectory of my life.
I love her.
The phrase passes through my mind, settling into place like a puzzle piece I've been holding for months without realizing where it fit.
I've probably loved her since the day she hissed at me in that cell, too weak to stand but too fierce to stop fighting. I wasn't ready to call it what it was.
I don't say it out loud. Not yet. Not because I'm unsure, but because these words deserve the right moment, and I'll know it when it comes.
For a while, nobody moves. We just stand there, a cluster of humans and Cerasteans squinting into the glare.
On one side, the desert stretches to the horizon, dunes rolling like frozen waves under the twin suns.
On the other, the capital looms – towers and spires rising against that lavender sky, silent and still.
L'Zaen's voice crackles through my earpiece. "All teams, report to the hangar. We have work to do."
The spell breaks. People blink, roll their shoulders, remember why we're here. We file back inside, boots scuffing along the sand-dusted floor.
The terminal stretches above us, vast and echoing.
It must have been magnificent once. The ceiling arches high overhead, supported by massive columns, and a row of transport ships sits abandoned in their berths, their hulls blanketed in a thick layer of dust. I think about what that means that these ships never launched, because the reshen had already done its work before anyone could even attempt an evacuation.
Sand has crept in through cracks and gaps, gathering in drifts against the walls and piling in the corners.
A fine layer of dust covers every surface, muting the shine of what must have once been polished stone floors.
Some of the windows are cracked or missing entirely, and where they've failed, the desert has seized its opportunity.
Small dunes have formed beneath the broken panes, miniature echoes of the vast golden expanse outside.
Still, it's not as bad as I'd pictured.
The structure itself seems sound. There are no collapsed sections or any major damage that I can see. The decay is one of neglect rather than destruction. Like a house that's been left empty too long, waiting for someone to come back and breathe life into it again.
"Not bad," D'Rett says from somewhere behind me, and I hear the relief in his voice. "I expected worse, honestly."
"The climate preserved much," L'Zaen replies, his tone thoughtful as he surveys the space with analytical eyes. "Low humidity. Minimal precipitation. Without moisture to accelerate decay, the structures have remained largely intact."
A skittering sound echoes through the terminal, and everyone freezes.
My hand goes to my sidearm instinctively, even as I scan for the source of the noise. Movement catches my eye near one of the sand drifts, something small and fast, darting between shadows.
"There," A'Vanti says quietly, pointing.
I follow her gesture and spot a creature about the size of a large cat, but that's where any resemblance to an Earth feline ends.
It looks like a massive skink. It is covered in sleek black scales with an oily sheen that catches the light as it moves.
Six legs carry it in quick, fluid movements, almost serpentine in the way it flows across the floor.
Its head is flat and wedge-shaped, dominated by large, multifaceted eyes that catch the light like black opals.
A ridge of spines runs down its back, and as we watch, they flare outward in obvious alarm.
"A keth'ra," A'Vanti breathes, and there's shock in her voice. "They're desert creatures. They shouldn't be this far into the city."
"Without people to drive them away, I imagine they've expanded their territory," L'Zaen observes. "A natural response to the absence of urban activity."
The keth'ra hisses, a surprisingly loud sound for the size of the creature, and those spines rattle together like dry reeds in the wind.
"Let's encourage it to find somewhere else to live," I suggest.
The keth'ra has other ideas.
I take a step toward it and the thing bolts – not away from us, but directly between L'Zaen's legs.
He stumbles sideways into D'Rett, who catches him with a grunt.
The creature loops around a sand drift and shoots up one of the columns, its six legs finding purchase on the smooth stone like it's nothing.
"Cut it off on the left!" someone shouts.
Three of us lunge that direction. The keth'ra launches off the column, sails over Dr. Petrova's head, who screeches like a banshee and drops to her knees.
The giant lizard-like creature lands on a dusty control console with a skittering of claws, kicking up a cloud of dust. It hisses at us, spines rattling.
"Over there," A'Vanti calls out, pointing toward a section of wall where an entire windowpane is missing. "Drive it that direction."
"Volt guns," L'Zaen says, already drawing his. "Power down to the lowest setting, just enough to sting."
We spread out, weapons drawn and dialed down. A quick zap at the floor to the creature's left sends it skittering right. Another shot behind it keeps it moving forward. The keth'ra hisses its displeasure but can't argue with the tiny jolts nipping at its heels.
It feints toward a gap in our line, but Chelsea cuts it off with a well-timed shot that sparks off the stone. Finally, we manage to funnel it toward the missing window.
The keth'ra pauses on the sill, those obsidian eyes fixed on us with what I swear is pure indignation. Then it's gone, vanishing into the bright sunlight beyond.
"Well," Ally says, holstering her weapon and brushing sand off her uniform. "That was certainly an experience."
A'Vanti frowns, looking at me with furrowed brows. "That one was small. A juvenile, I think. They don't usually stray far from—"
The sound that cuts her off is unlike anything I've ever heard.
It starts as a low rattling, like a thousand dry leaves shaking in a storm. Then it rises into an unholy cross between a shriek and a roar, reverberating through the hangar with enough force that I feel it in my lungs.
I spin toward the open bay doors.
The mother keth'ra is nothing like the creature we just chased out.
Where her offspring was the size of a cat, she's closer to a pony.
She must be at least one hundred pounds of scaled muscle and pure maternal fury.
Her spines are longer, wickedly sharp, and they're fully extended now, rattling together to produce that bone-shaking sound.
She's silhouetted against the bright desert beyond, and then she's charging.
Her six legs eat up the distance between us with terrifying speed.
"Scatter!" someone yells.
The group breaks apart, people diving behind columns and equipment as the mother keth'ra barrels into the hangar. She skids to a stop in the center of the space, head swinging back and forth, searching for her offspring – or for something to tear apart.
Her eyes lock onto Chelsea.
Of course they do. Chelsea is the smallest of us and caught out in the open, frozen mid-stride between cover points. Easy prey, if you're a predator doing the math.
I move without thinking, leaping between Chelsea and the creature. "Get behind the columns!" I yell. "Give it space!"
The keth'ra skids to a halt a few feet from me, her spines rattling so hard I can feel the vibration in my teeth.
Up close, I can see details I missed before: scars along her flanks, the way her scales are thicker and rougher with age, the intelligence burning in those black glittering eyes.
This isn't a mindless animal. This is a mother protecting her young.
"Easy," I murmur, keeping my voice low and steady. "Easy. We're not going to hurt your baby."
The keth'ra's head tilts, those multifaceted eyes studying me. Her spines lower slightly; not all the way, but enough that the rattling drops to a lower register.
"Should we dial up the volt guns?" Chelsea calls out from behind me.
The mother keth'ra's head snaps toward the movement and she lunges – not at Chelsea, but at me, the obstacle in her path.