Page 16

SIXTEEN

Stavian

Stavian should have known escape wouldn’t be that easy. Actually, he did. His gut had told him so.

The miners moved fast and quiet, just like Cerani had instructed, and since the sickest of them had recently been treated at the med lab, they were stronger than they’d been when they’d worked every cycle in the mines. He nodded as they passed. Some looked straight ahead like they didn’t see him. Others glanced up and went rigid. A few flinched when they met his eyes. Sema actually stopped when she reached the top, tensed like she expected an attack. He held her gaze until she nodded and stepped inside. He didn’t take offense. He understood.

Axis guards killed people who looked back. Axis officers sent prisoners to die in collapses. He’d been part of that system long enough to know why they didn’t trust him.

Cerani had been busy directing the miners to the cargo hold, where they’d all fit comfortably. She stopped beside him and gave a short nod. “They’re almost all in,” she said.

“Good.” He turned, moving farther down the ramp to be the last one on board, and took one last look around. The hangar lights buzzed quietly above them, and dust moved across the floor like it knew they were about to disappear for good. The last pair of miners moved up the ramp and into the ship. Cerani was right behind him. She didn’t speak, just stood at his side, steady and watchful.

He wouldn’t miss FK-22R. The cracked ground. The mountains in the distance that never changed. He was done with it all.

Then a figure separated from the shadows of the hangar bay.

He froze. His body tensed.

Cerani stiffened behind him. “Who is that?”

“Bendahn,” he said. Her name left a sour taste in his mouth.

She wore the same formal coat she always did, silver-trimmed and spotless, like she’d just stepped out of a palace. Not a single hair was out of place. Her hands were folded behind her back. Her boots clicked over the floor as she stepped forward.

“I expected better sense from you,” she said, her tone flat. “But emotion always was your weakness.”

Stavian stood still at the base of the ramp. “If you get any closer, I can’t promise you’ll walk back out.”

“I trained you.” Bendahn’s mouth curved. “You won’t hurt me.”

He stepped forward. “You’re wrong about that.”

She glanced at Cerani. “You really think this ends with freedom? That she’s something new? She is just another flaw in a long chain of weak choices.”

Cerani didn’t flinch, but she pressed closer to his side. “Ignore her. She’s a coward hiding behind a uniform.”

Bendahn ignored Cerani as if she didn’t exist. “Stavian,” she said. “Think about what you came from. What we gave you. Power. Rank. A life with control. A place among us. Who served you? Who kept you protected? It was us. The Axis.”

“You used me,” he said. “You gave me clearance and then kept secrets behind my back.”

“To protect you.” She stepped closer. “You are valuable to us.”

“As what?” he spat. “Another prisoner? That’s what I am if I don’t have the choice to leave.”

She blinked. “No one said you can’t leave.” She actually tried to sound reasonable, rational. “But I can’t let you leave with them,” she said. “Not with prisoners of the Axis. And not with her.”

Stavian braced against a sharp twist in his chest. It spread through his ribs and down his spine. His teeth ground together, pressure building in his jaw. His breath caught halfway up his throat. “I will leave,” he said through a locked jaw. “With whom I choose.”

But he didn’t feel right. Something was happening—inside him.

Cerani stepped closer. “Stavian…” Concern edged her voice. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. His throat burned. His skin itched like fire under the suit. Heat bloomed through his back, along his shoulders, like muscle was stretching—splitting. He staggered forward, finding a little balance on the flat hangar floor.

Cerani reached for him. “Stavian.”

He wanted to look at her. Wanted to give her assurance. But every nerve in his body was on fire.

Bendahn watched him with interest. Not concern. Interest . Her mouth ticked up with the smallest curl. “So,” she said, “they were right. It just took proper motivation for you to find the old form.”

Stavian dropped to one knee. His hands planted on the cold metal of the hangar floor. His fingers shook as the bones shifted underneath, growing longer. Long, curved claws tore through the tips of his gloves.

“What is happening?” Cerani asked breathlessly. Her hand tightened on his arm.

A pained grunt pushed from Stavian’s throat. The skin down his neck felt like it was on fire. His scales thickened over his shoulders—his wings flexed wide and snapped, too big for his back, tearing the seams of his uniform.

Air left his lungs.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t confused. He was furious.

“You lied to me,” he said, no longer sounding like himself. “About what I was.”

“Calm yourself.” Bendahn’s expression stayed neutral, but she didn’t come closer. “Letting the dragon out won’t fix anything. You never found your way to the shift. We trained you to be civilized. Disciplined.”

Dragon. What else about himself and his people was he unaware of? Stavian let out a raspy growl. “You kept me from knowing I could burn down your whole system with one breath.”

He swayed, dropped to all fours. His hands were too big now. His claws scratched against the hangar’s deck plates. His jaw ached as his mouth opened wider, and his bones changed shape. One more breath.

He knew he wasn’t fully there, wherever there was. He was still him, sort of, but in an in-between form. He didn’t have time, though. And more than that, he was afraid of what he could become if he gave himself over to the thing taking over his body. His thoughts were becoming less defined. Rage overwhelmed him. Before he lost himself completely, he lunged forward and roared.

Fire burst from his mouth. A jet of molten heat slammed into the floor not a meter from Bendahn’s feet. It exploded in a rush of white and yellow flame. The deck trembled under the impact. The shock wave forced Cerani to brace, her arm shielding her face.

Bendahn didn’t flinch. She turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing against the brightness, and raised one hand. “Now,” she said to the shadows behind her.

A faint click. Sleek metal glinted in the light.

Stavian’s growl cut off.

He heard the dart whistle through the air—but was too late to stop it.

The needle-thin projectile sank into the side of his neck. He staggered back. His mouth opened in a silent snarl, fire caught mid-rise in his throat.

Then—emptiness. The burn inside him went cold in a blink.

His limbs weakened. His body jerked, like something had cut the cords holding him upright. His claws retracted. His wings turned lighter, returning to their original size. Whatever was happening to him stopped.

Cerani said his name in a panicked whisper.

Pain flashed through his spine. His hands clenched uselessly against the deck plates as the shift reversed. His limbs shrank unevenly. Bones cracked. Heat left him in an icy rush.

The dart stayed in his neck. Whatever had been in that thin spike was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He collapsed onto his side, breath scraping from his throat.

Cerani didn’t scream or panic. She dropped to her knees and cradled his head, fingers on the dart to yank it free.

“Stavian,” she said, bracing his cheek. “Stay with me.”

His body burned and froze at the same time. His vision blurred. He tried to speak. No sound came out.

Suddenly, the ground thundered around him—pairs of boots pounded nearby. Voices shouted. Stavian’s vision cut in and out. One second there was light; the next, darkness. Cold sweat slicked his back.

“Stavian,” Cerani said. Her hands cupped his jaw. “I’ve got you. Keep your eyes open.”

Then a shadow crossed the light above him. Footsteps thudded past and fired blasters that sizzled off the hangar walls. Sparks flew near his shoulder. He flinched, muscles spasming. The smell of burned ozone filled his nose.

The miners. They were fighting back.

He caught a glimpse of Jorr braced beside him, rifle in both hands. A female named Niat ducked low behind a crate and pulled the trigger on a short-barreled blaster. The bolt sizzled past Bendahn’s feet. She stepped back. Her expression was unreadable as the black-clad operatives behind her returned fire. One dropped before he reached cover.

Stavian winced as he struggled to get up.

Cerani’s grip shifted. “Help me!” she yelled. “Get him on board.”

“On it.” Jorr’s voice came from behind, fast and sharp. A second later, Stavian felt thick set of arms slide around him from the back and locked around his chest. Jorr hauled him upright and pulled him backward.

Cerani was at his side, one hand on his bare chest. “Keep breathing,” she said in his ear. “Don’t stop.”

He wanted to tell her that he was fine—he was. If only every step toward the ship’s ramp didn’t send a flash of white through his vision. Fire still swirled in his chest, but his limbs were heavy. Weak. He swore he couldn’t feel his wings anymore.

Shots rang out near the entrance. The reprogrammed mech on their flank clattered as something struck its chassis. Sparks burst from its shoulder. Jorr fired over his shoulder, covering them as they backed onto the ramp.

Cerani ducked behind a support girder and glanced back. “Rinter! Now!”

A second later, the hull panels began to close.

Behind them, two more miners dragged a third body onto the ramp—someone was bleeding, but alive. Sema followed them and fired twice into the hangar, forcing one of Bendahn’s operatives to dive for cover. The doors sealed halfway. A stray pulse slammed into the frame and scorched the edge black.

“Med kits. Now,” Cerani ordered, pulling Stavian to her. Another arms-wrapped hug from Jorr helped them stagger up the deck. They cleared the ramp as the ship screamed a warning chime.

“Ramp closing,” someone yelled. The ramp sealed with a heavy clang.

The ship was closed.

Something deep and heavy rumbled through the floor. Stavian’s skull throbbed. Lightning scraped behind his eyes. He slumped hard against Cerani as Jorr lowered him roughly onto the floor. Cerani dropped down beside him and hit her comm.

Cerani’s fingers trembled for the first time since he’d met her. Her voice came low. “Rinter, I need whatever you’ve got in the med stash to bring him back around—a stim would work.”

There was chatter, insistent and frantic as the other injured person was tended to as well as him. They had so little time. Even as they fiddled with him, Bendahn likely had someone in the control tower shutting down the hangar and arranging for the hull to be opened. Quick hands snapped a stim into a press-injector. No words. No warning. The tip of the needle slammed into Stavian’s chest—right between his ribs.

The jolt tore through him like acid and lightning.

Stavian gasped loudly, choking and coughing. His back arched off the floor, tendons straining, and for several unbearable seconds, he couldn’t hear anything over the roar of energy flooding back into him.

Cerani grabbed both sides of his head, her eyes locked to his. “Stavian, look at me.”

Like he had a choice. She filled his field of vision, and that vision is what brought him back. It made him focus and pull together the edge of what Bendahn had forcibly frayed. The fuzz in his head faded. His breathing evened out. Slowly, the weight in his arms loosened and sensation returned to his hands and feet.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

Stavian’s breath shuddered in response. He shook his head, trying to clear the static swimming just behind his eyes. His arms twitched like they didn’t know if they worked, but he forced his legs to work and stood up.

“You should stay down,” Rinter said from behind Cerani, already prepping another stim.

Stavian growled. “No more of that, Rinter. Put it away.”

He looked down at himself. His chest was bare, shirt torn from the partial shift. His wings dragged heavy and limp. One folding wrong and the other twitched like a shorted wire. His knees nearly buckled, but he was up, teeth bared. He wasn’t going back down. He was a mess. But he was breathing. He could walk.

Stavian let out a slow breath and planted his feet. He checked his balance—shaky, but functional. He curled his wings against his spine. It felt like something inside him had opened. Something ancient and unwilling to stay buried.

“You were turning into a dragon,” Cerani said in a low breath. Her hands hovered near his waist like she expected him to pitch forward any second. “Fire. Muscles. Your face—everything— changed. She stopped it with this.” She held up the silver capsule tipped with a needle.

He couldn’t even explain what it had felt like. A furnace lit inside his chest, every nerve shredding and reforming. And then that dart—whatever had been inside it—it tore the entire shift back through his body like he’d been ripped out of himself by force.

“I’ll deal with that later,” he said. “Right now, I need the bridge and I need a crew. We have to get off this moon before the Axis send the next strike.”

“Stavian—” Cerani started, but her voice faltered.

“I’m leading this crew.” He turned to her. “I’m not going to let Bendahn stop us. Not now. She can throw fire. We’ll throw more.”

Jorr grunted. “That’s the attitude I’ve been waiting for.”

Cerani nodded and stepped into his space. She slid his arm over her shoulder and gripped his waist. “Then we go together. That’s how we started this. And that’s how we’ll finish it.”