The Super Stallion helicopter was loaded with soldiers ready for war: Sephians, with their golden skin; humans, who looked like petite, wingless Draeken; Roden and his soldiers. All wore black. Kilts had been exchanged for battle gear with pockets for extra weapons.

He’d been a bit surprised when the humans and Sephians agreed to the terms of his proposed mission with only minor changes to his initial plans. Of course, he’d made it near impossible to refuse. It was simple. First, entice them with the prototype he’d snatched during his escape. Second, give them the opportunity to take down Draeken leadership for good, while keeping Roden within their reach. The humans and Sephians had been playing it too conservatively. Watching Hillas’ earthside base but taking no action, unsure what awaited them on the inside, only gave Otas a chance to fortify his position.

Roden had given them all the answers they needed for an assault. Of course, they were assuming they could control Roden, and therefore his people. He’d been careful to do nothing to give them cause to think otherwise.

When it came down to it, Roden wouldn’t allow his people to be massacred. The humans already knew the location of Hillas’ earthside base—courtesy of Apolo’s spy. It was only a matter of time before Otas had working power cells or the humans got antsy and moved in. Both would result in unnecessary deaths. And so Roden had laid out a plan for them to invade the base with minimum loss of life.

This way, everyone got something they wanted. The Sephians felt like they were making headway in eliminating the Draeken threat, and the humans were about to gain unlimited access to undreamed-of technology. Roden was fine with that. Both perceptions were necessary for the endgame.

Everyone figured Roden’s stake in the game was to replace Hillas. They also assumed they could either control him or assassinate him. How foolish of them.

“He’s a wild card. I don’t like him here.”

Roden glanced up at the sound of the voice to see two human soldiers watching him. He snapped his teeth at them. They scowled. One turned away while the other continued to watch him.

Roden liked the soldier immediately. Strong and loyal, the one called Ace would make an honorable guardsman. His gaze took in the assembly of soldiers sitting around him. Most avoided eye contact. One gold-skin in particular watched him, his narrowed eyes filled with skepticism. Apolo looked exhausted, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. Chills furrowed in Roden’s body. He sees too much.

He lifted his chin ever so slightly. “Being separated from your tahren doesn’t look like it suits you, Apolo. How’s Krysea? I suppose serving as the grand leader of Sephia keeps her from the little things, like sending support to Earth.”

Undeterred, Apolo continued to examine Roden. He doesn’t know, he assured himself, but it didn’t help his comfort level one bit. He leaned back in his seat as much as his wings would allow; the loud whoomp-whoomp of the helicopter vibrated through the metal hull behind him.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the pungent petroleum smell of hydraulics. He was mentally exhausted. Bringing a feud against his own people lay heavily on his heart, yet that wasn’t the only thing weighing it down. Nalea had been the key to the survival of the Draeken race. With her gone, he felt as though his people’s hope was gone. The only thing Roden could give Nalea now was vengeance, and that was something he was very, very good at.

It’d taken him years, but Roden was patient. This time, he came to her a Draeken in his prime, and she’d shown no interest. She didn’t recognize him thanks to the surgeries he’d had done to alter his face.

He’d taken her to the same orchard. He’d already tied her husband to a nearby tree to watch. Roden had taped her mouth shut so she couldn’t scream. He’d chosen drugs to ensure she felt everything. He shoved stakes through her wings and into the ground then pulled out the collection of blades he’d selected over the years for this night. He went to work, making a cut for every boy she’d abused. Throughout it all, her husband had begged for mercy.

When Roden had finished, he skewered her husband before turning back to the woman. Just before the life bled from her, he’d said, “You’ll never add another to your collection.”

“Jump in zero minus three minutes.”

Roden jolted when the voice came over the loud speaker. He grounded himself by looking around the interior. The helicopter was now humming with activity. Seatbelts were unhooked, and soldiers of all three races came to their feet. Draeken stretched their wings, earning curses from those around them. Humans and Sephians situated their parachutes and checked their new blasters. Roden had provided weapons, all set to stun—a stipulation he had made very clear—as a way of preventing as many Draeken deaths as possible.

Otas needed to be removed just as a festering wound needed cauterizing. He only hoped that not too many would be lost in destroying the infected false heart of the Draeken people.

“Jump in zero minus six-zero seconds.”

Roden and the eleven Draeken soldiers who’d volunteered for this mission took the lead at the wide opening at the tail of the aircraft, with the wingless soldiers filling in behind. Cold wind blasted their faces. They stretched their wings.

That they hadn’t been shot at yet meant his encrypted blocking program had worked. He inhaled deeply. The cold air reminded him of his first kill many years ago. It’s a good night.

A light flashed red and a buzzer sounded. With his wings held tight to his body, Roden leapt from the helicopter. Angling into the wind, he shot forward and waited for a mental count of five before spreading his wings. Pressure stretched his muscles to their limits as he caught lift and flew. Even in the black of night, the freedom of flight was exhilarating.

Moments later he touched down, a bare second before the first human—who was clearly an expert jumper—came in silently behind him. The man who’d watched him earlier was impressive, already rolling his parachute before the first Sephian landed.

While humans might be wingless and not technologically evolved, they did bring some value. Their primary value being that their DNA was eerily similar to that of the Draeken, making them the key to the survival of Roden’s endangered race. The most noticeable differences between the two races were that humans were shorter since they’d evolved on a planet with greater gravity. Also, humans had never developed wings, which Roden found strange given that their DNA supported it.

Being winged, Draeken bodies hadn’t evolved to be overly muscled to support the wings. Instead, their wings grew larger in proportion to their bodies, and their bones became lighter. The result of mating with the heavier boned, smaller humans remained an unknown. It was a risk Roden wouldn’t have to deal with, as it would take generations to reveal the new—and hopefully better—race his troops had already jokingly labeled Druman, a word ironically similar to a Draeken term meaning changeling.

So much faith pinned on the future. Roden hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed.

As all the helicopters emptied, the soldiers split into six teams, each containing four members from each race; as much from lack of trust as to leverage the various unique abilities, even though the lack of experience working together was a risk. Apolo led his team away from the others through the tree line around the base. It would have been faster to fly, but unfortunately the two other races were inferior in that regard, and they burned four minutes running an outer semi-circle of the base.

Apolo halted and held up a fisted hand in human fashion. They’d discussed communication before going in. All were fully aware of how dangerous this particular mission was. That was why Apolo had demanded to have Roden on his team, although he suspected the Sephian had an ulterior motive in keeping him close.

Roden wasn’t comfortable serving as a second on this mission, but he understood the whole conflict-of-interest thing. He could deal with it… as long as they didn’t get in his way.

Apolo’s team would be the first to go in, grab Otas before the rest of the base realized they were surrounded, and—hopefully—have the base surrender without a drop of blood spilled. Otas’s sour blood excluded, of course.

He glanced at his wrist-comm. Twelve seconds to go. Everything had to be precise for this mission to succeed. Roden had been planning this mission for over a year; he had spent countless nights awake planning how to end a tyrant’s reign without casualties. There was no way around it though: there would be casualties. But ending the Grand Lord’s rule wasn’t the most important reason for this mission. The Sephians saw the Draeken as their enemy, and they’d already begun to sway the humans. For his people to have a future, he’d have to find all three races a common enemy—something to bind them together.

Enter the Grand Lord as the perfect scapegoat. In a way, Hillas Puftan would lead his people to a new future. His downfall and Otas’s death would be the dawn of his people’s future on this planet. Otas thought Roden was trying to take over. He didn’t know the half of it.

Nine seconds. He waited. Four seconds.

Two.

One.

Apolo nodded to a bulky Draeken soldier Roden had handpicked for the team, who prepped a huge door-punch to break in as close to the heart of the base as possible. It only took two ear-ringing hits before the door splintered wide open. The base comm-alarm blared through the opening and blaster fire burst forward, taking down the guardsman still holding the door-punch with a dozen shots to his body. Everyone took cover to each side of the door.

Fyet! They must have bypassed his program. The question now was how much time had the base had to prepare. Not that it would change anything; it was too late to call off the mission. If they didn’t get Otas now, the imposter would get to the core ship and launch an attack the planet would be defenseless against. Tonight, the Grand Lord’s reign must be ended for good.

With a scowl on his face, Apolo punched a code on his wrist-comm to warn the other teams, and then raised his hand, holding up three fingers. The Sephians quickly slid on black glasses. Wync pulled out two chaos-charges, activated them, and then tossed them down the hall. The team turned away and grabbed their ears.

Light and screeches erupting from the hallway pierced the night. Sparing a quick glance over the four humans, Roden nodded. Given how little time they’d had to prepare, they remained levelheaded. He made a mental note to approach them later about joining his team on a more permanent basis. He imagined what they’d say, but it was still worth a shot.

He moved around Apolo to enter the brightened base as their tracker, knowing they were only steps away from Hillas’ heavily protected comm-center. He took down the first two guardsmen with clean stun shots to the head as they knelt in the hallway, still recovering from the vertigo brought on by the chaos charges.

Shots fired from his sides, and the remaining guardsmen fell. No new guardsmen appeared, and Roden stopped. Something wasn’t right. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the back door to Hillas’ office opened and a small orb flew out. The door slammed closed.

“Chaos charge!” Roden yelled. “Fall back!”

They sprinted back the way they’d come until light and sound sent out waves of vertigo, knocking the team to the ground. His eardrums rang shrill sirens, nearly breaking under the duress. Even with his eyes closed, the light caused an instant migraine. If the Sephians hadn’t been wearing special dark glasses, they would have been knocked unconscious.

As the effects of the charge faded, Roden tried to drag himself to his feet, only to be thrown against the wall by a human, who was firing at a door in the hallway. Roden realized he was returning fire. Pulling out a weapon, he fired off several shots, knowing his aim was still skewed by the charge. “Thanks, Ace,” he shouted over the noise of battle.

The human nodded and kept on firing, looking fully recovered from the blast. In fact, all the humans had recovered more quickly than both their Draeken and Sephian counterparts. Impressive.

A shot singed Roden’s thigh but he kept firing, finally taking down the Draeken nearest to the entrance with a solid stun-shot to the shoulder.

The rest of his team recovered soon after, and they volleyed enough return fire that their assailants retreated behind the closed door. “Status,” Roden called out before checking his latest injury. The laser had just skimmed the skin. He was lucky, because, unlike his team, Otas’ guardsmen had their blasters set to kill. He’d survive this battle, just as he’d survived countless others. Sometimes it seemed he was doomed to survive.

“Everyone’s good,” Apolo said from off to his left. “And I’m leading this team.”

Roden stepped forward, grimacing at the pain but refusing to limp. He pulled out a round metallic ball from his pocket and squeezed. Apolo gave him a nod, and then kicked open the door. Roden tossed the chaos charge inside and Apolo slammed the door closed. Light and sound bled through the cracks around the door, but it was nothing compared to what the Draeken were experiencing inside.

Apolo glanced back and, without waiting for a response, opened the door. With Apolo in the lead, the team charged into the large room and fanned out, laying down gunfire like a rainfall of falling stars. The Draeken guardsmen, blasting away in a wild spray of shooting, were taken out in the first seconds. The room fell silent, and Roden glanced over the team.

Apolo was leaning over one of his own. Roden placed a hand on the Sephian’s shoulder. The soldier on the ground was conscious, dark golden blood pouring from her stomach. “I’m fine,” she scolded while Apolo ignored her and slapped a coagulant wrapping on it. The soldier hissed, but the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

Apolo pulled her to her feet, and she clenched her teeth. He turned to Ace. “You get Sana back to Kilo Tango.”

The human moved forward and the Sephian glared at him from her spot against the wall. “I don’t—”

“Go,” Apolo said, interrupting her excuse. “You’re no good to us when you can barely stay conscious.”

Her mouth clamped shut, but she didn’t say anything as Ace grabbed her under the shoulder and took on some of her weight.

Apolo eyed Roden’s leg. “How about you?” he asked with a gesture.

Roden took a look. The material was frayed where the blast had singed his pant leg, and a wet spot around the hole betrayed signs of bleeding. “A paper cut.” He motioned to the Apolo’s arm, which currently had a stream of gold running down it. “You?”

Apolo barely glanced down. “Paper cut.”

With a nod, Roden turned walked through the room, in between the fallen Draeken, and toward the wall on the far side. Just as he’d expected, Otas had hidden himself away. Spineless.

He went straight past the wall with the obvious hidden door to where Roden knew the entrance to Hillas’ battle shelter was. Otas couldn’t have known Roden knew, but he was likely watching his doom walk toward him on video at that very moment.

Once the team filled in behind and Apolo nodded, Roden casually typed in the secure code to open the door. With a click and a swoosh, the wall slid back and to the side.

All their blasters locked onto the small room’s occupant.

Roden froze. Make that occupants.

Otas stood facing him, clad in full protective gear. The coward held Nalea before him like a shield. She was wearing no body armor whatsoever. Her eyes were covered by dark glasses, so he couldn’t tell if she was as surprised to see him or not.

“Hello, my dear,” Roden said, fighting against every nerve in his body to show a response.

She stood like a silent statue. Why wasn’t she trying to break free? She wore no restraints. She could easily overpower the fop. Yet she just stood there, draped in a long gown.

“Nalea?” Apolo asked as he came to Roden’s side, his face mirroring the shock Roden felt.

Until that point, Nalea had been focused on Roden, but upon seeing her old friend, a smile filled her face and she stepped forward, only to have Otas yank her against his chest. She scowled.

Apolo eyed Roden before turning a hard glare on her captor. “Release her this instant, imposter, or die.”

Ten blasters were aimed at Otas, but there was no way to shoot him without hitting Nalea first. Roden paused when light reflected off her necklace. The woman he knew wasn’t one to wear gaudy jewelry. He narrowed his gaze on it and tensed. “Damn it, Lea.”

She bristled but didn’t say anything.

“Roden?” Apolo asked.

Roden sighed and lowered his weapon. “As much as I’d like to kill this imposter, we can’t shoot him without the risk of harming my consort. A neck-charge, Otas? How undignified.”

Apolo cursed.

Otas chortled as he pulled her back a step. “Dire times call for dire measures.”

Nalea’s eyes widened. “Behind you!”

The sound of pounding bootsteps broke through the silence. Roden snapped around to find guardsmen pouring into the office behind them. Wync flung himself at the wall and hit a switch. The wall moved back into place, cutting off the newcomers and Roden’s team, leaving Roden and Apolo trapped inside the small shelter with Otas and Nalea.

Gunfire and shouts filtered through the wall. Otas smiled. “I believe we’re at an impasse.”

“Here’s your only chance,” Apolo said. “Stand down and we won’t shoot.”

Otas grinned as he backed up a step.

A low hum erupted around them. It’d been nearly three years since Roden felt that kind of power. “Oh, fyet. The power cells are active.”

“Don’t move,” Apolo commanded.

With a sudden twist, Nalea yanked free and stabbed Otas near the collarbone with a small metal object.

Otas cried out, and pulled out the object, which turned out to be a fork. He went to press a button on a band around his wrist.

Roden pulled the trigger. A shot blasted through Otas’s hand, and he screamed.

“Can’t set off her disjunctor without a hand, can you?” Roden sneered.

“Damn you!” Otas snarled and pulled out a handgun with his other hand. A human gun. What the hell was the imposter doing dirtying his hands with human technology? “You will still die today, Roden!”

Apolo shot Otas in the leg; he stumbled with a grunt but quickly returned to full height. With protective body armor covering most of his body, blaster shots were easily absorbed by the material.

Roden aimed and fired at Otas’ uninjured hand at the same time Otas began shooting, each trigger pull making his hand jerk. Apolo fired, knocking the Draeken down. Even then, Otas kept firing.

A sudden pain blinded Roden. He stumbled back, and Nalea grabbed onto him.

Otas jumped to his feet and barked out a command. A narrow door opened behind him and he leapt through the small door just before its jaws snapped closed.

Apolo lunged forward and searched for a touchpad.

Roden tried to move forward to help, but pain burned his side. He touched it and discovered wetness. A familiar, numbing pain climbed through his veins. Poison.

Nalea came down with him, pressing against the bullet wound, trying to staunch the blood flow, but Roden knew the tangy scent of the poison too well.

“Tiscalin,” he muttered. A common poison because of its effectiveness and often used in blood charges, it was both an anticoagulant as well as a deadly venom that would eventually paralyze his heart. He looked up at Apolo. “Tell me you’ve packed anti-venom.”

Apolo was already pulling out a small syringe as he ripped open a bandage. Nalea held Roden’s head up as Apolo injected the syringe full of anti-venom directly into the wound. Apolo then slapped a bandage over the wound, none too gently, and Roden cursed and glared at the Sephian.

Apolo smirked before backing away. “You’ll survive.” Then he turned and spoke into his wrist-comm. “This is Team Three. We need an evac at Kilo Tango. Multiple injuries. Prep for a tiscalin treatment and Draeken blood transfusion.”

A voice coming through his wrist-comm quickly responded. “Acknowledged. Pickup at Kilo Tango in three minutes. We’re reporting a serious influx of power coming up around the base. Status of target?”

Apolo scowled. “The target has escaped.”

A pause. “You better move fast.”

“Sounds like you came prepared,” Nalea commented.

The humming in the room grew, and Roden noticed a slight glow emanate from the direction Otas had escaped. The glow was slowly filling in the wall. He winced. “Otas has initiated a force barrier.”

Apolo cursed. “Clearly we weren’t prepared enough.” He stood and hit another key on his wrist-comm. “Team Three, status report.”

“Room is secure.”

Apolo nodded to Nalea, who swiped her hand over the wall. The door opened.

Biting back the writhing tentacles of agony expanding outward from his wound, Roden staggered forward into the larger room. Already, an additional team was filtering in. They stopped at each fallen Draeken, disarming and restraining before moving on to the next one. One of Roden’s least favorite Sephians, who now bore a nasty burn shot through his arm, came to his feet upon seeing them.

“Bente!” Nalea called out.

Cradling his arm, he smiled. “Good to see you.”

“Pickup is on its way,” Apolo said.

Bente nodded. “I heard.”

Roden’s muscles tensed as he tried to hold himself up. “Let’s move.”

Nalea watched him suspiciously for a moment, and then wrapped her arm around his torso to keep him from collapsing.

He gave a weak smile. “I’ve missed you too, dear.”

She grunted in response.

“I say we leave him and let the force barrier take care of him,” Bente added.

“Bente, grab that gear bag,” Apolo said as he walked past the pair.

The Sephian lifted his own arm. “But I’m injured.”

Apolo huffed. “That scratch?”

Roden glanced down at Nalea, and she looked up as though she knew his eyes were on her. He frowned, and then turned his attention to Apolo. “You have any people who know how to remove a neck-charge without detonating it?”

Apolo’s lips thinned and he shook his head slowly.

Nalea stopped, swallowed. “I have to stay. I’m a safety risk to you.”

“Like hells you are,” Roden countered.

“What are you talking about?” Bente asked.

She pointed to her necklace. “There’s a charge set on this. Otas has the detonator. He could set it off at any time.”

“Suvaste,” Bente muttered.

Roden nodded toward the humming wall. “The force barrier is already filling in. There’s no way to get to him.”

“Don’t be foolish. You’re coming with us,” Apolo snapped at Nalea.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how big the blast could be if he detonates it. I won’t risk your lives. I need to stay here and finish this.”

“No,” Roden said. “If Otas was going to detonate the charge, he would’ve done it already.” He winced as he wrapped his arm around her in turn.

“I’m trying to protect your worthless hides,” she muttered.

“You’re coming,” Apolo barked over his shoulder. “And that’s an order, Nalea.”

She cursed several colorful words but didn’t push away from Roden as they walked through the hallway. Without the cauterization of the blaster injuries, his wound was excruciating. Damned human weapons. It took every ounce of strength he had to walk, but he wasn’t about to show weakness.

He’d only stumbled twice—blaming it on debris both times—by the time they stepped through the collapsed door that led outside the base. A whoomp-whoomp sound brought his attention to the night sky. Three helicopters lowered to the ground as gently as birds to their nest.

Losing his balance, he fell to his knees, his strength now gone. A couple of medics jumped out of one of the aircraft with a long board. They rushed forward and reached for Roden. He hissed, drawing back from their outstretched hands. “Help the others first.”

The medics froze, looking to Apolo, who stalked over and helped him back to his feet. “You go with them or else I’ll shoot you myself.”

He grimaced, but finally relented with a nod. The two medics pulled him onto the portable stretcher. They had Roden strapped down within seconds, and he pulled at the straps. “Imbeciles,” he muttered as they slid him none too gently onto the floor of the helicopter.

Nalea backed away, touching the disjunctor. Roden motioned for her to come to him. She turned and walked away.

His head collapsed onto the cushioned stretcher. Pain coated his senses, numbing his mind. When he looked again, Apolo stood there, watching him with blank features, before stepping closer and grabbing Roden’s hand.

His mind glazing, Roden looked out to where Nalea had disappeared. He squeezed the Sephian’s hand. “She can stop the war. Take care of her, ta deiti.”

“I will.” He paused. “Old friend…”