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  Wheeling open the manual hatch at the tip of the ship’s abdomen, she pulled herself up into the large bay. Garulen technology latched onto the familiar Fellilen panels and control ports of the cargo bay, looking like a technological fungus.

  Cyani scuttled through the narrow ports until she reached the cockpit. Using her com, she tried to hack into the Garulen system using the old security code her team had used to breach the atmosphere shield.

  “Work, damn it,” she cursed as she waited for the computer to accept the old code. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  The display screen lit up several lines of Fellilen programming code.

  Yes.

  The ship hadn’t been linked into the main computer system since the attack. That would be a problem. They didn’t know the new code to breach the atmosphere shield. Turning on the ship’s minimal functions, Cyani began a diagnostic.

  “Com, scan ship for fuel levels, exterior damage, and life-support system failures.”

  Unable to determine fuel levels. Exterior damage report: One vertical modifier damaged beyond repair. Ship maximum speed and launch ability compromised. Energy modifier shield strength compromised. Life support: Temperature controls functioning, atmosphere controls functioning, pressure controls functioning, gravity controls damaged, ability to function compromised.

  “Shakt,” Cyani muttered under her breath. Moving to the power controls, she tried to get the fuel level diagnostic up and running. She just needed to know if they had enough to get off the ground and boost over the crater on the flight strip. The energy modifiers would take them the rest of the way.

  Overall, it wasn’t that bad. She listened to the com list the ship’s functions working at maximum capacity. The only other compromised system was communications, and the ship had no failed systems. It could have been worse.

  Cyani watched the holo-map as two blue dots ran toward the ship. Her heart raced with a sudden flood of relief, but her mind remained wary. Soren warned her he could be dangerous. She couldn’t forget it.

  She listened to the low grinding squeal of the hatch shutting, then boots echoing through the silent ship. Climbing down the ladder from the cockpit, she turned to meet Soren as he entered the weapons bay.

  Cyani gasped before she could stop herself. His eyes radiated light so bright, she couldn’t see his pupils. The swirling red violet burned through his thick lashes, and cast the room in a faint purple glow.

  “How do you feel?” she asked, widening her stance just in case. There was a hard edge to his jaw, a tension in his body, like a fault line about to crack and unleash a devastating quake.

  The corner of his mouth twitched as his gaze slowly traveled down her body then returned to her face. “I’ll survive,” he muttered. “What do we need to do?”

  “We have three problems,” she said, keeping a wary eye on him without looking directly into his eyes. In her heart she knew he wouldn’t hypnotize her, but she didn’t want to take that chance. She had heard stories of the drug he had taken driving humans mad. “The first problem is I can’t determine how much fuel is in this ship. The second problem is we don’t have the security code to breach the atmosphere, and the third problem is the Garulen will know something’s wrong as soon as we power the ship up.”

  “Then let’s begin with the first problem.” His voice was low and controlled, but his body still exuded sexuality. “Is there another way to determine the amount of fuel?” His scent was much clearer now, much more potent. Cyani felt a strange fluttering in her stomach, and turned to the weapons bay deployment panel. Iridescent colors danced over the panel. That could be distracting.

  “I’ll take a look at the fuel sensor, see if it is something I can fix.” She glanced at one of the Garulen panels attached to the wall. “Do you read Garu?” she asked.

  “No, I can only speak it.”

  She sighed. She would have to handle weaponry as well, though he might be able to manage the voice commands once they were in the thick of things. She slid past him and jumped down the tube into the main bay. She needed to find the service panels for the fuel cells.

  Soren followed. He stood on the catwalk of the bay with Vicca rubbing her cheeks against his heels as if she were in heat. A warm shiver slid down her neck. It was just the chemicals.

  “I’ve activated the minimal functions of the ship’s computers. I don’t think that will draw attention, but it might. Can you take Vicca and stand guard? I’ve got a bad feeling.” She ripped off a panel on the wall and stared down at the fuel input connectors. One of them was fried to a crisp.

  “About the Garulen, or me?” His voice sounded dark.

  “I’m going to have to retrieve a part from the other ship. I need you to watch my back,” she countered, avoiding his question. “Are you able to handle this?” she asked, staring him in the eye for the first time. The intensity of the emotions that burned there nearly stopped her heart—anger, desire, guilt, and pain. He was doing his best to maintain control under the influence of the drug. Cyani noticed his hands shaking just slightly.

  “I’ll handle it,” he confirmed, letting the red in his eyes seep into his voice.

  “I need you to keep us safe. If a guard unit does come around, burn off a little of that energy . . . got it?”

  He smiled for the first time, the red in his eyes flaring. “Perfectly, Captain.”

  Soren led the way out of the stingship. Cyani followed, watching him carefully as he went. Occasionally he would pause and shudder then continue with the same steeled hardness that had troubled her when he entered the ship.

  He reminded her of a volcano, silent, trembling, ready to unleash chaotic violence. What had the drug done to him? It had worked so quickly. Was this only the beginning of the terrible war raging in his bloodstream?

  SOREN SWUNG HIMSELF OUT OF THE HATCH AND LUMBERED ACROSS THE stingship bay then crouched behind an overturned canister. Vicca sat at his side, her ears upright and alert.

  He watched Cyani run across the field, her powerful muscles shifting under her shadowsuit like the sleek body of a cat on the hunt.

  His shoulders tensed as another dizzy rush of pleasure throbbed through his body. It made his head ache just behind his temples. She was so beautiful. She had no idea she was so beautiful. She only saw herself in one light, and it was a very harsh and unforgiving light.

  He had to protect her. He owed her that. He couldn’t let himself be distracted by his growing attraction. He could think about that later, if he thought about it at all. In his current state, with the drugs working to restore his unnatural hormone levels, he had to be careful. The Garulen were right to keep him chained. His own culture was right to keep the breeding men isolated. He was dangerous.

  He watched Cyani disappear into the wreckage of the second ship and breathed a sigh of relief. Focus was the key to control. He turned his eyes to the horizon then slowly scanned the stingship bay, watching, waiting.

  Vicca stood and lowered her head. With her whiskers pushed forward, she twitched her nose and swished her tail. The lights on her collar blinked red. The fox looked up at him and growled, then focused on a gap in the heaps of rubble that had once been huge warehouses on the far side of the broken stingship.

  “What is it, girl?” Soren asked as he grabbed his sono. Vicca growled again, then whined and slipped behind a half-destroyed wall. Soren followed, watching the gap. A tingle raced down his spine.

  The collapsed warehouse exploded with a boom that echoed through the bay and punched the air out of Soren’s lungs. He ducked, wrapping his arms over his head as debris rained down on him. A metallic groan filled the bay, followed by the jarring cacophony of metal crashing against stone.

  Soren looked up in time to see the wrecked stingship lurch on the edge of the crater then plunge down the slope, rolling onto its back like a dying roach.

  He didn’t have time to worry about Cyani. The hull seemed intact, and she could handle anything. His attention fixed on the four Garulen g
uards crawling out of the hole created by the blast.

  With swirling dust and debris in the air, he had the advantage, but he needed to strike quickly. Deep, burning rage and desperation drove him forward. Hormones flooded his system. They made him possessive, violent, and deadly.

  “Vicca, find Cyani,” he ordered. The fox sprinted through the debris toward the overturned ship.

  He crept toward the group of Garulen, concealing himself in the clouds of dust. He was able to sneak right behind them. He steadied his hand as he lifted the sono. Tensing, he prepared to fire.

  A voice crackled through static. “Scout unit one-four-seven, position and status . . .”

  One of the Garulen soldiers pressed his hairy palm to the plate of armor on his chest.

  “Route clear through warehouse seventeen. We are in the stingship bay. One ship damaged beyond repair. The other looks damaged but functional.”

  “Bring ship’s systems up . . . Report damage . . . Half an hour.”

  The guards turned their backs to him, and Soren struck. He fired three blasts at the leader of the group. The guard spasmed then collapsed as the other three guards stared in shock.

  Soren took aim and fired a volley of blasts, taking down another guard.

  The other two sprang into action, firing shock blasts at him. He ducked behind a pile of debris as the shock blasts crashed into the heap, destabilizing the pile. The rubble crashed toward him and he leapt out of the way.

  Charging the guards, he let out a feral scream and allowed his eyes to blaze with his fury. The guards froze, their meaty jaws gaping in transfixed fear. One stumbled backward, tripping over a chunk of stonework.

  Soren fired on the one still standing, just as the guard brought the shock thrower to his shoulder. Soren’s sono hit the guard on the chest, but not before the low wham of a shock blast hummed through the air.

  The blast hit him in the gut as he stumbled forward toward the last guard. Soren screamed a second war cry as he surged through the bone-chilling pain and numbness. He collapsed on the last guard, fixing his fingers over the creature’s exposed throat.

  The guard let out a strangled gasp as Soren forced all his fury into the waning strength in his hands. His muscles contracted, paralyzed by the blast.

  Slowly the life drained out of the guard. Soren closed his eyes and let the numbness wash over him.

  He didn’t know how long he remained paralyzed. He was too high on the stimulants to remain incapacitated for long. His body screamed in pain as it began to wake again.

  A raspy little tongue bathed his face. He shook his head and lifted his bleary eyes to Cyani. She looked confused.

  “What in the name of Fima the Merciless happened out here?”

  Soren glanced at the bodies scattered around him. “I killed them,” he choked out of his parched throat.

  “I see that,” Cyani responded. “You are going to have to get up on your own, because I’m not kissing you.”

  “Rot. Are you okay?” he asked, pulling himself to his feet. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees to fight the swelling nausea in his sore abdomen. He knew she was only teasing, but even the thought of her lips touching his made his blood flow white-hot in his veins. As soon as they were safe and the drugs waned, he’d find a way to kiss her until he couldn’t breathe, and he wouldn’t let her back away.

  “I’m fine, a little bruised. I need more time to remove the fuel indicator, or we’ll have no way of knowing how much power the ship has.”

  “We don’t have time. This scout group is supposed to get the ship linked and enter a damage report in just a few minutes. If they don’t answer, this place will be crawling with half the Garulen army.”

  Cyani kicked a small rock, sending it skipping across the bay. She pinched her eyes closed and rubbed her palm on her shirt.

  Even under such intense pressure, he found her enthralling. He felt the sudden rush of arousal and stilled, knowing he needed it to live, but worried that his attraction would distract him, or threaten her. A blight on the drugs for making him so aware of her at a time like this.

  “This is a huge risk,” she commented.

  “I’m willing to take it if you are.”

  Cyani turned to the ship. It was their only hope. She’d have to depend on her faith in the Creator. Her fate was in his hands.

  Hand.

  Inspiration struck suddenly as she looked at the dead Garulen soldiers.

  “Soren, do you speak Garu well enough to convince them you’re one of them?”

  “I believe I do,” he answered with a puzzled expression.

  “Good.” Cyani pulled her knife from its sheath. “Which one was the leader?”

  “Soren pointed to the body farthest from them. She bent down next to it, removed the forearm shield, and with one smooth strike, chopped off the body’s hand at the wrist.

  “What are you doing?!” Soren shouted. “You can’t defile a body like that. It’s unholy.”

  “We can ask for forgiveness later.” Cyani tested the flexibility in the fingers. “He doesn’t need it anymore, and we do. Come on, I have an idea.”

  7

  “HOLD THIS.” CYANI TOSSED SOREN THE HAND AS THEY CLIMBED INTO THE cramped cockpit. He fumbled trying to catch it and flung blood across the display screen.

  “What am I supposed to do with this thing?” Soren scolded, holding it out by the tip of one pasty finger.

  She threw herself into the pilot’s seat and reached for the controls, checked her com sensors and the ship’s diagnostics, then looked for anything she might have missed. As soon as they powered up the ship, they’d have no time for anything but escape.

  “Garulen communications systems are activated and maintained by palm scans to prevent intelligence leaks. When I power up the ship, press the hand to that panel over there and pretend to be the hand’s former owner. Are you with me?”

  Cyani swung around in the chair. Soren dropped his gaze to the hand, looked over at the communications panel in front of him, then a slow smile spread over his face. “I’m with you.”

  “Good. Whatever you say to the central command, I need you to get two things from them. We cannot leave this rock without the code to the atmosphere shield. Tell them the gravitation generators have been damaged and we must take the ship out of the range of the asteroid’s generators to assess the nature of the damage.”

  Cyani turned the chair and tried to reach each of the five control pedals for her feet, but the seat was set for the stocky legs of a Garulen pilot, not her long limbs. Her knees banged into the control panel each time she tried to reach the high pedals.

  “Is that true?” Soren interrupted.

  She felt along the bottom of the chair for some sort of adjustment lever.

  “Is what true?”

  “Is the gravitation system damaged?”

  Cyani sighed as she threw her knees wide to reach the pedals with her toes.

  “Unfortunately, it is true, and their computer will confirm it. We’re in for one hell of a ride. Are you ready?”

  Soren nodded. “What was the second thing?”

  “What?”

  “The second thing you needed?”

  “Fuel levels.”

  Cyani felt her gut drop as she mentally prepared herself for flying the ship. Placing her hands on the control globe before her, she took a deep breath and pushed the globe forward, bringing the sleeping ship to life.

  Soren visibly tensed as the lights in the cockpit flared on the console. The ship let out a low rumbling moan that settled into a droning growl.

  Cyani watched him out of the corner of her eye, hoping the shock blast and his technology phobia wouldn’t trigger another seizure in spite of the drugs he had taken. She needed him. Even if she could speak fluent Garu, which she couldn’t, the Garulen didn’t let women in their ranks. Who was she kidding? She just needed him.

  A tinny voice rang through the cockpit. “Receiving damage estimates, status report . . .”<
br />
  Soren placed the oozing hand on the control panel and pressed it to flatten the palm.

  “Don’t forget to ask about fuel levels . . .” Cyani whispered. Soren glared at her.

  “Ship in functioning condition, unable to determine nature of gravitation loss. Request authorization to test gravitation generators outside shields.” Soren pulled the hand off the panel and looked over to Cyani.

  She nodded, but found she had nothing to say. Each second ticked by, swelling to the length of an eternity as the crackling static remained devoid of a response.

  Vicca jumped into Soren’s lap and sniffed the hand with interest. He shoved her away.

  “Soren, strap in for plan B,” Cyani warned, preparing to stand on the emergency thrusters. They would have to fly in and destroy the shield generator. It was suicide.

  A string of code scrolled through the console screen. Cyani released her breath as her head swam with relief. It was the new shield code, their ticket to freedom.

  “Good work, soldier,” she whispered.

  The static broke.

  “Flight permission granted, stand by for escort.”

  Cyani snorted, placed her hands on the globe, and positioned her feet for takeoff. “I have no intention of waiting for an escort. Are you ready?”

  Soren pressed the palm to the panel again. “Flight permission acknowledged. Request information on fuel levels. Fuel indicator is ill-functioning.”

  Soren winced at his sudden lapse in vocabulary and shrugged a hasty apology.

  “Fuel levels adequate for mission,” the voice answered, but there was a questioning tone in the disembodied voice.

  Soren pulled the hand off the console.

  “Adequate? What was that supposed to mean?” Cyani huffed.

  “Good enough for me. Let’s go.” Soren grabbed Vicca, tossed the hand, and pulled the flight harness over his shoulders, locking it into place.