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Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Morgan

The ship shook as the tractor beam locked onto us from behind, the metal hull groaning in protest as we were pulled inexorably toward the mysterious vessel. I stumbled, catching myself against the bulkhead as I finished fastening my uniform with trembling fingers.

"Can you identify it?" I called to Tivek, who remained at the controls, his back rigid with tension as he worked the unresponsive console.

"Negative," he replied, his voice tight. “We’re too far for visual, and our damaged sensors are useless aside from alerting us that there is a ship and it’s pulling us.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as I peered fruitlessly out the front glass. We were being pulled backward, the blackness slowly replaced by the metallic interior of what appeared to be a massive hangar bay. Not long ago, I’d been petrified of being stuck in space. Now that we were being rescued, I was just as scared.

Who had found us and dragged us into their massive vessel? I couldn’t yet see any figures, so I didn’t know if it was friend or foe. My stomach twisted. Or Kronock.

I reached for Tivek's hand, intertwining my fingers with his, as a strange calm settle over me. “We’ve got this.”

He glanced up at me, momentary surprise flickering across his features before a small smile softened his expression. “With you, I have everything.”

Something had shifted between us. It went beyond the physical intimacy, beyond the shared secrets. I'd never been one to rely on others. I’d always prided myself on self-sufficiency. I’d hadn’t had much choice.

Yet being with Tivek, baring my soul along with my body, had given me a different kind of strength. I knew with complete certainty that he wouldn't let anything happen to me, just as I wouldn't let anything happen to him.

The ship jolted hard as we were set down, the abrupt release from the tractor beam sending us stumbling to one side. Then there was silence.

"Ready?" he asked, reaching for the release that would lower the exit ramp.

I nodded, squeezing his hand as we walked to the center of the ship together. "Ready."

The hydraulics hissed as the ramp began to descend, revealing glimpses of an oil-stained hangar floor.

The brightness of the hangar momentarily dazzled me after days in our dimly lit ship that had run on auxiliary power and onlyambient light. As my eyes adjusted, I struggled to make sense of the figure bustling up the ramp toward us.

“Well butter my behind and call me a biscuit! These aren’t tribute brides.”

I blinked in disbelief at the small alien dressed in head-to-toe fuchsia, from his pointed boots to a ruffled collar that framed his face. The only thing that was decidedly not fuchsia was his spiky hair, which was purple. His oversized eyes widened even further as he reached us, hands fluttering in excitement.

“A Gatazoid?” Tiv said under his breath as he swiveled his head and took in the soaring ceilings crossed with beams and the other gleaming black ships lined up.

"We were supposed to receive Earth brides for the tribute program! But you're clearly not—well, she might be, but you're definitely Drexian, darling, and a handsome one at that.”

Tivek's jaw had dropped, an expression I'd rarely seen on his typically stoic face. I might have laughed if I wasn't equally stunned.

“Are Gatazoid’s friendly?” I whispered to Tivek as the Gatazoid circled me, tapping one long finger against his chin.

“Yes, but they don’t have their own ships. Their world was taken over by the Kronock and most of the remaining populace work for?—“

The creature who reached my waist thrust out a small hand. “I’m Serge, by the way, Chief Fantasy Wedding Designer for?—"

"Serge?" I interrupted, a memory suddenly clicking into place. "Reina talks about you all the time."

The Gatazoid froze mid-gesture, his mouth forming a perfect O of surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest and flattened the ruffles on his shirt. "You know Reina?"

"We're from the Drexian Academy," Tivek explained, still looking slightly shell-shocked. "Reina works there with Admiral Zoran's wife."

Serge staggered backward as if physically struck by this information, his large eyes unblinking. "The Academy? You're from—but how did you—we're nowhere near?—"

His sputtering was interrupted by the arrival of a tall Drexian in an immaculate dark uniform with a sash crossing one shoulder. His stride was purposeful and his expression stern but not unfriendly.