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My hands lifted and carried, the muscles in my arms working smoothly despite the lingering weakness from Hammond’s experiments. The crystal shard he had used to probe my lifelines had left damage that was healing, but slowly—more slowly than I revealed to Zara. The constant ache served as motivation, a reminder of what was at stake.

The preparation was complete. Tonight, when the drilling operation reached its peak intensity and the security systems were at their most strained, we would make our move. The ventilation shaft would lead us to the abandoned maintenance tunnels my clan had mapped generations ago—if we could reach them before the alert sounded.

I watched the other workers surreptitiously, evaluating potential threats. Most kept their heads down, their spirits broken by Hammond’s regime. A few displayed the telltale signs of collaborators—too-straight posture, eyes that tracked other workers rather than focusing on their own tasks, the subtle bulges of hidden communication devices.

The ancient stone beneath the metal flooring seemed to pulse with its own rhythm, a counterpoint to Hammond’s machinery. My feet detected it through the thin-soled work boots we’d been issued—the planet itself protesting the violation, calling to those attuned to its frequencies. My clan’s teachings spoke of this connection—the ancient ones had designed the planetary network to communicate with those properly attuned.

Now, that network screamed in distress. As we were marched back toward our cell, the guards flanking us with casual brutality, I found myself increasingly aware of Zara’s presence beside me.

The sound of her breathing, the rhythm of her steps, the subtle shifts in her scent that indicated determination rather than fear—all registered with unexpected clarity. The impulse to protect her had become instinctive, overriding even my deeply ingrained suspicion of her markings.

My tail, usually maintained in disciplined stillness around others, occasionally drifted closer to her as we walked, as if drawn to her proximity. Such an unconscious display would have earned severe censure from my clan elders, yet I foundmyself unable—or unwilling—to maintain complete control of the appendage when near her. The realization was troubling.

The corridors we passed through bore the signs of Hammond’s hasty retrofitting—salvaged ship components bolted to ancient stone, power conduits snaking across millennia-old glyphs whose meanings had been lost to time. The air grew colder as we moved deeper into the complex, away from the heat of the drilling operation. Zara’s exposed skin prickled with goosebumps, though she gave no other sign of discomfort.

My clan’s teachings about the dangers of marked outsiders remained valid—but they had failed to account for the marked outsider herself, the human woman whose courage and intelligence continually defied my expectations. The contradiction troubled me, even as I recognized its growing importance to our survival.

As we approached our cell, I cast one final glance at the surveillance drone following our procession, its electronic eye tracking our movements.

Tonight, very soon, we would be beyond its reach—either freed or dead.

ZARA

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” The words escaped before I could filter them, harsh in the confined space of the ventilation shaft where we’d been planning for the past hour. The metal around us transmitted the vibrations of distant machinery, a constant reminder of Hammond’s relentless drilling operations.

The air here tasted of metal and mineral dust, with undertones of machine oil that leaked from the ancient ventilation system. Ravik’s tail shifted against the dusty floor—the only outward sign of emotion on his otherwise composed face.

“The plan is sound,” he replied, his voice a controlled rumble in the metal chamber. The deeper tones resonated differently than human voices in the enclosed space, creating subtle harmonics that my enhanced hearing detected. Since our captivity began, my auditory sensitivity had increased—another unexpected development from the markings’ evolution.

“The drilling equipment must be disabled to create sufficient distraction for you to reach the communications array.” I pointed at the crude map we’d sketched on a scrap of material torn from the liner of my boot.

The fabric was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the layout was clear enough—a maze of corridors, security checkpoints, and access panels leading to Hammond’s lab and the communications array. The blue light filtering through the ventilation grate cast strange shadows across our makeshift plans, turning the simple drawing into something more ominous.

“You’re talking about sabotaging the main power junction for Hammond’s entire operation. Do you understand how much energy flows through those conduits?” My skin heated beneath my shirt as my agitation increased. “It won’t just be a distraction, it’ll be a bomb.”

The junction point we’d identified during our work detail fed power from Hammond’s drilling operation into the ancient systems he was attempting to control. Based on my engineering knowledge, the energy flowing through those conduits was already dangerously unstable—a deliberate overload would create an explosion large enough to collapse that entire section of the complex.

“I am aware of the risks.” His golden eyes held mine without wavering, the vertical pupils contracting slightly in the dim emergency lighting that filtered through the ventilation grate. The scent of his skin—something like cedar mixed with metal—intensified with his body heat in the confined space.

A small lock of his copper-colored hair had escaped his braids, falling across his forehead in a strangely humanizing detail. The shaft around us barely contained his powerful frame. He sat with his knees drawn up, his shoulders hunched to avoid scraping the ceiling.

Rust flaked from the metal walls where moisture had penetrated over centuries, coating our skin with a fine reddish dust that clung to the sweat on my arms and face. We sat facing each other, knees almost touching, surrounded by the soft humof ventilation fans masking our conversation from any listening devices. After a week of captivity, these hidden planning sessions had become our only freedom.

The bruises from my last “interrogation” session with Hammond’s guards had faded to a dull yellow-green across my ribs, but the memory of the pain remained fresh. Hammond’s paranoia was escalating. Yesterday, we’d overheard him ranting about “the final purification”—whatever that meant, it couldn’t be good for any of us.

“There must be another way.” I traced my fingers along the map, seeking alternatives, the fabric rough against my calloused fingertips. My mind raced through possible scenarios, engineer’s training automatically calculating failure points and workarounds. “What about the secondary generators? They would cause a disruption without?—”

“Insufficient.” Ravik’s expression remained steady, though a muscle in his jaw tightened. His lifelines were visible beneath his blue skin. “Hammond must commit all his security resources to the explosion. Only then will you have the necessary window to access the communications array and send the warning about the Nexus coordinates.”

He was right, and I hated it. The map between us laid out a simple truth: Hammond’s compound was too heavily guarded for subtle methods. The communications array was separated from our quarters by multiple security checkpoints, each monitored by drones and armed guards.

Accessing it would require every second of the distraction. The distant sound of a guard patrol passing below our position emphasized the constant surveillance we faced.

My fingers traced the route we’d planned—through maintenance ducts, abandoned corridors, past the surveillance blind spots we’d identified during our forced labor. The planwas solid, except for one critical component: it relied on Ravik creating a diversion that would likely kill him.

But the cost... “Once you trigger that explosion,” I said, unable to keep the emotion from my voice, the words catching in my throat, “they’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes.” No hesitation or fear in his response. Just acceptance.