The Draeken dimmed the lights, double-checked the locks, and ensured the electronic dampener was functioning at full power. Only when Kreed was confident prying ears couldn’t break through the dampener did he dial the secure code. Privacy was critical for this meeting.

Though he was expecting it, his muscles still flinched when the golden visage appeared on the monitor. There was no way around it: meeting with the Sephian leader would be seen as a betrayal to his people. Doubt skimmed across his mind, hinting that taking such risk was too dangerous and he should make the break sooner versus later. If his actions were discovered before the Grand Lord’s death, then everything would be for naught. He’d be branded a traitor. But if he didn’t do this, his people would never find peace. He was their best chance.

Kreed studied the image on the screen. Apolo’s black soullare vined around one eye, giving the well-groomed male a dangerous demeanor. Even though Sephians lived decades longer than their Draeken brethren, Apolo looked worn out, as though the past two years had aged him three-fold. Being away from his tahren was taking its toll. Knowing he’d never see her again must make it a torture to wake every day.

Apolo’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped before quickly closing. “It’s good to see you, Kreed.”

He nodded. “It’s been too long, old friend.”

Relief washed over the Sephian’s features. “After you went silent, I feared you’d been compromised.”

Kreed grimaced. “Close.” Too close. “I needed to lay low for a while. When I found out I had been impersonated, I knew Hillas had learned of my existence.” After a drawn-out sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. “Listen. About what happened—”

“The ambush wasn’t your fault,” Apolo interjected. “I know you never would’ve given me faulty information.”

Guilt stabbed at Kreed. If you only knew, old friend.

“What’s done is done,’ Apolo continued. “But I could use some good news here. Have you tracked down Nalea?”

Even as a child, his friend had always been impatient. A trait Apolo had never outgrown.

“Nalea was terminated not long after she was brought to the base,” Kreed said quietly. Safer to say that than the truth. If Apolo knew of Roden’s keen interest in her, he’d launch a rescue mission immediately, and Kreed couldn’t allow that. That mission could destroy everything he’d worked for. His old friend didn’t need the weight that came with that knowledge. In some cases, ignorance was a blessed balm.

Apolo closed his eyes. “Suvaste. She will be avenged. Roden Zyll will pay.” After a moment, he sighed. “Do you have any other information that can help us?”

Kreed gave a tight nod and continued to share what little—but critical—intel he’d acquired. Information from Hillas had become increasingly sparse, especially anything pertaining to their defense against the Sephians. He knew the Grand Lord was planning something big, and that couldn’t bode well for either the Sephians or his own people. He may have been born Draeken, but he knew that unless his people changed their ways—and quickly—they faced certain genocide.

The Sephians had formed an early alliance with the humans, so there was still hope for Kreed’s people. After all, his people had brought no violence to their new world. If anything, the Sephians were the aggressors here; though he admitted they had just cause—slavery tended to cause unrest.

Unfortunately, the Sephians had been first to align with the humans, bending their unwitting hosts’ ears with misperceptions; a costly mistake to the Draeken. For his people to be accepted on Earth, he needed Apolo to earn the support of the human military. Without full human buy-in, Kreed’s people were as good as dead. He glanced at the clock. Frustration burrowed in his gut. Time was running short. One of the base auto-scans that ran every twelve minutes could catch his electronic dampener’s signal any moment. “I’ll check in again when I can.”

“If it gets too dangerous, get out of there and call for a pickup. The humans can be challenging, but fair.”

Kreed went to hit the button.

Apolo lifted his chin. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Watch your back.”

“Sheescaten, ta deiti,” Kreed said. Peace, my brother.

Apolo dipped his head. “Deiti.”

The screen went blank. Kreed paused. If he made the smallest error, he was dead, which made it all the more important that he make no mistakes. He punched in several commands to remove the electronic distortions to his face. Apolo and Kreed hadn’t been face to face since they were boys, so the Sephian would no longer recognize his childhood friend. Wearing an altered face on-screen protected them both, and Apolo knew it. As long as no one knew what Kreed looked like, no one could be tortured to surrender the identity he now wore. He would remain safe as long as he was careful.

On the downside, when it came to revealing himself, things would get tricky. Apolo couldn’t confirm his identity, which made his other identity crucial. Not that the odds of survival were in his favor.

Once the comm’s settings leveled off to normal, he leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples. It’d been a long day. The last two scheduled supply drops from Hillas’ earthside base hadn’t yet arrived, and he knew it was because the Grand Lord grew jealous of Roden’s power and the loyalty of Roden’s guardsmen.

Right now, Hillas was the only being who stood in the way of peace. If things went right, the Draeken could reach peace with the humans and Sephians by year-end and blend somewhat into human culture. His people would be safe.

Only one problem.

Kreed knew things never went right.