Chapter Fourteen
Nayan put the finishing touches on her new hand coverings. They were part of what she considered to be her battle gear. Those garments and accessories had two purposes—to safeguard her from attack and to kill those attackers.
The next time she accompanied her warrior, she’d wear the body and hand coverings. Her jaw jutted. She’d protect him.
Her private viewscreen buzzed, skittering across the horizontal support, exciting Hitch. The little bot chirped, jumping up and down.
She felt the same exhilaration. It must be Qulpa. He missed her as she missed him.
She grasped the private viewscreen, saw the name, and her happiness dimmed. “My lord.”
Khan’s scarred face appeared on the screen. “Females and children have been abducted from a small settlement close to us.” He got straight to the point. Their Warlord was a warrior. He didn’t talk excessively. “No one claims to have seen anything. It happened during the rest cycle. But two males heard the ship pass over their structures.”
“We should be able to identify the model of the ship with that information, my lord.” That would narrow their search for the missing Chameles, saving time, increasing the likelihood they’d find the abductees. “I have samples of engine noises from each model.” She kept those for quality control purposes. “We could ask the two males to listen to them. Independently.” That would add an extra layer of verification. “They could tell us which engines they heard.”
“I assumed you would have those samples.” The Warlord’s eyes glowed. “A shuttle craft is standing by to transport you to the settlement. I want you to oversee the investigation.”
Shit. She kept her expression blank and her protests to herself.
The Warlord, once he gave an order, expected it to be followed. There would be no debate about it.
She was leading the investigation, whether she wanted that or not. “I will contact you when I identify the ship, my lord.”
“Do that.” The transmission ended, his image disappearing from the viewscreen.
She’d have to leave the laboratory. That had to be done. There was no point grumbling about it.
She squared her shoulders, tried to look on the bright side.
Identifying the ship was a simple task. It shouldn’t take a long time. And the settlement was situated close to home.
She gathered the devices she needed, placed them in a pack.
There was no need to contact Qulpa. She would return to the laboratory before his training ended.
Slipping the pack over one shoulder, she tugged on her hand coverings and took a look around. Her bots and drone worked happily.
“Take care of the place while I’m gone.” She gave her mechanical creations that instruction as she walked out the doors.
Warriors occupied the hallway, leaning against the walls, checking devices, chattering.
Her body immediately tensed when she saw them. She folded her fingers into fists, preparing to extend her mechanical claws, to defend herself if that was necessary.
If Qulpa was with her, he would shield her from any threats. She hadn’t felt truly safe outside her laboratory until he started accompanying her.
He couldn’t do that this planet rotation. Her warrior had tasks to complete, his own role to fulfill. She couldn’t rely on him all the time.
Protecting herself was her responsibility. She increased her speed, noting every being around her.
When she identified who was waiting by the transport shuttle for her, she had to force herself not to cringe.
“Our Warlord chose me for this mission, not your warrior.” Urus, one of her least favorite beings in the universe, smirked at her. “Because I’m the superior pilot. He knows that.”
She suppressed the many scathing comments she wanted to make. “We don’t have time for chatter.” She stomped up the ramp, entering the small vessel. “I have an investigation to complete.”
“The renegade Chamele abducted the females.” The male closed the doors behind them. “I could tell you that.”
She would rather he not tell her anything. Nayan strapped her pack to the wall and then secured herself as thoroughly to one of the seats.
“You shouldn’t be evaluating whether or not Qulpa is worthy of being Second’s main pilot.” Urus complained as he started the engines, lifted off. “He’s your warrior. You’re not fit for that task.”
As his gerel, she was even more fit for that task. She wouldn’t approve him for a role he couldn’t fulfill. That would put him in danger.
Urus boasted about his abilities and relayed disparaging comments about Qulpa’s flying prowess as he flew them toward the small settlement.
The main viewscreen displayed clouds in a blue sky. The abduction site wasn’t too far away. She checked her private viewscreen. They’d arrive soon.
According to the information their Warlord had sent to her, warriors would be meeting her upon landing. They would bring her to the males who had heard the ship they were trying to locate.
She would play the samples to each witness separately. If they both agreed, and she was certain they would, she could identify the vessel and her task would be complete.
Tiny metal legs stroked her cheek. She turned her head and swallowed a curse. Hitch whirred and chirped happily from his perch in her hair.
The blasted bot had escaped the laboratory once more. She scooped him up and gently placed him in one of her pockets.
“What was that?” The movement must have attracted Urus’ attention. He turned his head and glared at her. “Was that a bot? Because all bots are to be deactivated during flight.”
“The bot is harmless.” And she wouldn’t deactivate him. Ever. Hitch was her friend.
“I decide what is harmless.” Urus tapped on the private viewscreen embedded in the console. When whatever he was doing was accomplished, he unfastened his harness and stood. “This is my ship.”
A large shape appeared on the main viewscreen. “And whose ship is that?” She pointed at the image. It was an AXT594, the same model the rogue Chamele had stolen.
Urus looked over his shoulder. “Zondoo.” He scrambled back into his seat, strapped himself in.
The ship jolted. Metal whined. They spun.
She gripped the armrests of her chair. “We’re going down.”
“Shut up.” Urus frantically jabbed his private viewscreen with his fingers. “You distracted me with your bot.”
He allowed himself to be distracted. She doubted Qulpa’s attentions would have drifted from his duties.
Why Urus didn’t see the ship no longer mattered to either of them. Their survival was all that was important now. The vessel tilted steeply downward. Anything not tied down slid toward the main viewscreen.
Was this it? Bile rose in her throat as they plummeted. Would she die now, die without telling Qulpa, her warrior, her male how she felt, that she loved him?
Because she did love him. With everything she had. He was her—
There was a boom. Pain cracked across her forehead. And everything went black.
* * *
Cool metal brushed against her neck. Her entire body ached. Her head throbbed with pain.
Nayan opened her eyes. Bright light stabbed at her. She squinted.
There was debris all around her. Long grass poked between the metal panels and pieces of console. A tree loomed two strides away from her, its branches sheared off.
She looked down.
Hitch angled his head back and forth, his energy-infused eyes glowing. The little bot chirped at her, his tone concerned.
“I’m okay.” She assured him.
That didn’t appear to be a lie. Her body covering had done what it was designed to do, protecting her form from cuts and scrapes. She touched her forehead with her right hand, felt dampness.
Pulling her fingertips away from her head, she gazed at them. Her fingers were covered with blood. She tried to reach upward with both hands and couldn’t. Her left hand covering was caught on the armrest.
Not having the energy to untangle it, she loosened the leather and slipped her hand out of it. Her palm was unharmed. There wasn’t a mark on it.
The hand coverings had provided an effective barrier against injury also. She tested her head wound again. It wasn’t deep. She should live.
The fasteners on her harness weren’t functioning. She couldn’t release them. They were bent out of shape.
She extended the mechanical claws on her right hand covering. Their alignment was off, the tips pointed in various angles.
She removed her hand covering and gripped the mechanical claws at their base. Using the leather as a handle and the claws as a blade, she managed to saw the harness into two.
The pressure on her chest eased. She discarded the hand covering and pushed herself upward. Her legs wobbled yet held.
Hitch whistled, clinging to her neck. The little bot appeared to be thankfully unharmed.
Nayan didn’t see Urus anywhere. The male might not be a friend, but he was a fellow Chamele. She had to find him, help him if he was hurt.
“Urus.” Her voice was hoarse. “Urus.” She yelled his name louder.
“You did this.” Fingers closed around her neck, the skin-on-skin contact hurting her. “Was this your plan?” Urus lifted her off the ground, his eyes glassy and wild. “You caused me to crash so I’d look bad in front of our Warlord.” He squeezed harder.
She couldn’t breathe. A normal Chamele would slash him with her claws. Nayan didn’t have that option. She pulled on his hands.
He was bigger, stronger. The pressure on her throat didn’t lessen. She couldn’t draw air into her lungs. Her neck bubbled with painful welts.
“I will kill…” Urus’ gaze lowered to her hands and his eyes widened. “Where are your claws, Chamele?”
The male knew her secret, but at the moment, that was the least of her worries. He was strangling her, and if she didn’t get oxygen soon, she’d die.
Nayan kicked and punched, fighting his hold on her. The darkness around the edges of her vision closed in. Her lungs ached.
“You’re a freak.” Urus sneered that last word.
A high-pitched whine followed that declaration. Hitch, with his lights flashing, jumped onto Urus’ hair.
Her tiny bot poked the male with his tiny forefeet again and again, attacking her assailant with the little power he had, defending her.
“Get off me.” Urus shook his head, maintaining his grip on her neck.
Hitch fell to the ground. Nayan struggled harder to escape, trying to save herself, save her friend.
“Cursed machine.” Urus’ top lip curled.
The male stomped on the tiny bot. She writhed in the air, forced to watch as Urus ground Hitch’s mechanics under his boot heels.
Her friend, her beloved creation, issued one last mangled chirp as its artificial lifespan ended. The sound shredded her heart.
Urus’ look of satisfaction turned her stomach. “That’s your fate also, freak.” His eyes glowed with a maniacal malice as he tightened his grip on her neck even more. “When our Warlord finds out you have no claws, he’ll thank me for killing you.” The male spat on her, his spittle speckling her leather-clad chest. “He’ll know your warrior is genetically inferior. He must be. You’re his match and—”
Her tormentor’s body jerked. Urus suddenly went still and silent.
Had time stopped? Her vision grew hazy. Was that what happened when a being died? Because she was dying. Her energy seeped from her.
A dark blur passed them. Urus was knocked backward, took her with him. They toppled to the ground. The contact broke his death grip on her neck.
She sucked in deep breaths of air, sputtering, gasping. Her lungs felt singed. Her neck ached. The pain in her head intensified.
But the darkness receded, and her ability to think, to react, returned. She crawled away from Urus, trying to put distance between her and the being who wanted her dead.
“I stunned him.” An unfamiliar male voice informed her. “He can’t hurt you.”
She gazed upward. A Chamele warrior stood before her, guns in both of his hands. His face was hard but his eyes were soft with sympathy.
“He’s right, crazy, but right.” The newcomer, her savior, widened his stance. “Your Warlord won’t ever accept you…but we will. We welcome your differences, will treasure your uniqueness. With us, you’ll belong.”
“Bonded.” Her throat burned. Her voice didn’t sound like hers.
“We’ll figure out a way to break that bond.” His eyes gleamed. “Your warrior doesn’t deserve you, not if he put you in the care of that male.” He looked at Urus and wrinkled his nose. “We would be worthy, would protect you.”
We would be worthy. We would accept you. She stared up at him. Why did he refer to himself in the plural?
“It’s the best solution for everyone.” The Chamele male gazed at her with genuine concern. “Your unworthy warrior won’t be deemed genetically inferior.” His lips twisted around those last two words. “You’ll belong, be accepted, cared for. And we will be grateful to have you.”
It was a tempting offer. If she disappeared, Urus couldn’t prove she was a freak. Qulpa wouldn’t be punished for her genetic abnormality. She wouldn’t have to face the humiliation of being expelled, stripped of her role. There would be no risk of death for her or for the male she loved.
There would also be no search parties seeking her. Others would believe her dead. She could run away and no one would pursue her.
But Qulpa would still have his mechanical fingers, still be viewed as an outcast for that. She couldn’t abandon him like her family abandoned her. She couldn’t leave him to confront his detractors alone.
“Can’t.” She shook her head, that effort hurting her. “I love him.”
Envy flashed in the warrior’s eyes. “Then I hope, for your sake, he’ll eventually be worthy of you.” He lifted one of his guns.
The male would shoot her now…because she turned him down, rejected her offer. Her love for Qulpa had cost Nayan her life.
She felt no regrets, would make that choice again with no hesitation. Lifting her chin, she braced herself for pain.
The mystery male glanced at her and then aimed his gun at Urus. He stunned her enemy one more time, turned, and walked away.
She watched his back until he disappeared. An AXT594 model ship’s engines droned and then faded.
Something about her savior had been vaguely familiar. She couldn’t determine what that was. Was it his voice? His stark countenance?
Faced with other more pressing issues, she pushed those thoughts from her mind. Her gaze slid to Urus.
The male had tried to kill her. He had smashed Hitch, an innocent bot, a good friend of hers. After they were rescued, her enemy would tell everyone her secret.
Her fingers curled around a long narrow piece of metal. She should beat him over the head with her makeshift club, end his lifespan, eliminate the threat to herself and to Qulpa.
That’s what she should do. She sighed. But she couldn’t take that step.
Attacking a stunned opponent lacked honor and she had never killed anyone, not with her own two hands.
She had been responsible for deaths. Her ships and weapons had been utilized to kill. She’d justified that by telling herself that had ended the Succession Wars faster, preventing more loss of life.
Killing Urus would save, in the absolute best-case scenario, two lives—hers and Qulpa’s. That was too high a cost.
Her decision made, she tucked the piece of metal under one arm. If the male regained consciousness too early, she would smack him with it.
While she waited for a rescue, she would attempt to save her mechanical friend…if that was possible. The damage to him could be too great to undo.
But she would try. She retrieved Hitch piece by tiny piece, painstakingly finding every flattened filament, every small strip of metal. Many of his parts had been ground into the soil, were hidden in the long grass.
The destruction was so great her hopes of restoring Hitch dimmed. She dug a distinctive metal square out of the dirt.
It held his processors and his memory chips, the heart and soul of her little bot. They were what made him unique, made him the friend she knew and loved.
The first layer of metal fell away. That was how ravaged it was.
If the secondary case was at all punctured, Hitch would be the bot equivalent of dead. Her tiny friend would be lost to her forever.
She turned it over in her hands, examining the metal. Relief swept through her. The case was dented but it was whole. It had held. The processors and memory chips had survived.
Hitch would live.
Gratitude filled her heart. She hadn’t lost him.
“I will repair you, my friend.” Her voice was raspy. “You’ll be as good as new. I promise.” She kissed the tiny case. “And I’ll never forget how you tried to save me. You are such a brave little bot.”
He must have realized he wouldn’t survive the assault. Urus was bigger, stronger, and that logic was programmed into the bot. Knowing that, Hitch had still sought to defend her, protect her, trading his lifespan for hers.
She couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend. Nayan brushed her lips over the metal case again. Once she rebuilt him, he’d have a grand story to tell the other bots.
She located her pack. It remained strapped to a piece of the wall. The gun inside it appeared to be functional. She exchanged her makeshift metal club for that weapon. Her handheld was smashed. Her more primitive tools were a bit bent but usable.
She gathered what she could and positioned herself by the tree, slumping against its trunk, her back pressing against the rough bark. The gun was set on her lap.
She glanced at Urus. He remained stunned. If he moved, she’d stun him again.
She touched her forehead. The bleeding had stopped. The headache remained.
Need also coursed through her. She’d told Qulpa when they first met that crash sites turned her on. Ironically, that was her state at the moment.
She yearned for her big warrior, for his hands on her skin, his voice in her ear, his arms wrapped around her, comforting her, keeping her safe. He would come for her. She knew that. He would rescue her.
There was nothing she could do but wait. While she did that, she would rebuild Hitch.
Her fingers hadn’t blistered. They didn’t even pain her. Solar cycles of crafting mechanics had caused that skin to become almost projectile-proof.
The issue was her longing for Qulpa. Her hands shook, making the fine work she needed to accomplish much more difficult.
If it wasn’t her friend she was working on, she’d wait, see her barbarian first, touch him, silence the tremors, sate the wanting inside her.
But Hitch needed her now. The bot must be so scared. He was unable to move, to communicate, to see. The lights in his little eyes were shattered.
She pressed her lips together, willed her unruly desires away, and concentrated on restoring her tiny friend.