Page 7 of Interstellar Love Song (Villains in Space #3)

MICAH

The mood was somber as we reboarded the Lodger to follow Leeloo below the surface to Nuclei City.

Of course, my mind had immediately gone to the string of disappearances Zig and I were already investigating, but I didn’t want to drop that bombshell on my Jedi Master until they’d had a moment to recover from the shock.

Could it be related?

It was hard to say, since I wasn’t sure what Leeloo meant by “twin planet.” In the Milky Way galaxy, Earth and Venus were often referred to as twins, but that was because of their similar size and mass.

I couldn’t remember passing any planets that resembled Ekistron on our way here—at least not close enough to be seen with the naked eye.

I was about to ask Ziggy what he knew about Kanrienus, if anything, when an incoming message from Astrum Force Command lit up the Lodger’s communicator .

Zig glanced at the screen as he maneuvered the ship through the hatch. “It appears Honnor is forwarding the list you requested from The Knowledge…”

I practically fell out of my chair—since I’d been booted from my man’s lap for the vertical descent—but still managed to hit the button to magnify the list. Blessedly, it was in alphabetical order, but Kanrienus was nowhere to be found.

So much for that hypothesis…

I must have made a disgruntled sound—or blasted saltiness through our bond—as Ziggy glanced at me sharply. “You should still send Honnor a message explaining your reasoning for the list.”

“But Kanrienus isn’t on there!” I huffed, annoyed to be back at square one. “And I’d rather wait to have something useful before bothering the space dads?—”

Ziggy’s Earthling hands were being used to skillfully set down the Lodger in its designated lava-ringed helipad, so he placed a tendril on my forearm instead and squeezed reassuringly.

“Micah, you won’t be bothering anyone. You should know by now how much Honnor and Bron respect your ideas and input. None of us know what’s going on with these disappearances, so a working hypothesis is incredibly helpful.”

I sighed, even as I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Space Daddy. I guess I’m just frustrated to not have solved this already, and… to know more will die before I do.”

Superhero problems.

It was Ziggy’s turn to sigh as he swiveled his captain’s chair to face mine.

“Death is inevitable for most species because the universe itself is unpredictable. Stars are born through perfectly timed nuclear fusion and ultimately collapse under the weight of their own gravity. Life on Earth will eventually end when the sun cools and expands, engulfing your planet as it finds its own stellar death. It’s inescapable. ”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Was that supposed to comfort me, Zig? Telling me we’re all gonna die?” I immediately sobered as a new gloomy thought occurred to me. “How do Stellarians eventually go? I mean, can they die of old age?”

Very, very old age…

Ziggy stared at me for a long moment, but not before he slid his old mask into place.

Oh, no you don’t!

I stared back at him, but I didn’t hide a thing. All the sorrow and fear I felt at the idea of him no longer being alive, all the hopeless love I had for him now, was laid bare in my expression—and our bond—for him to see.

Show me yours.

My man swallowed thickly, but otherwise maintained his impassive facade. I could still feel his turbulent emotions through our stellar collision connection, however, which meant he wasn’t hiding that from me at least.

Baby steps.

“I’ve been told a Stellarian’s death is much like any star’s,” he carefully said. “A core collapse that triggers a brilliantly blinding supernova.”

My chest ached at the thought, despite the beautiful mental image. “Does that mean I’ll go out in a blaze of glory with you?”

I sure hope so.

Even Ziggy’s practiced persona couldn’t disguise the pain that flickered over his freckled face. “I…” His gaze dropped before lifting to meet mine again. “I would be sure to extract my core before allowing that to happen?—”

I gasped in mock horror, clutching my chest. “Zig! I said no take-backsies. Your core belongs to me now. So there.”

Finally, that earned me a laugh, although his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t believe it’s a scenario we need to worry about anyway, sunshine.”

Oh, right.

Because I’ll die before him.

Aside from the harsh reminder, this conversation confirmed Zig had also been thinking about our disparate lifespans, which shouldn’t have been a surprise.

If there’s something for my man to stress about, he’s stressing.

For as cool and collected as Ziggy presented himself to the world, he was a starry little ball of anxiety on the inside—especially when it came to me and my safety.

On the flipside, he was my biggest supporter and cheerleader and wholeheartedly believed in my competence and ability to protect myself.

So that’s how I’ll calm him down.

“C’mon, Zig…” I crooned, rising from my chair and pulling on his arm to get him to do the sa me. “If anyone can figure out a way for us to attach ourselves to each other permanently, it would be me.”

This time, my man’s eyes softened with affection to match his smile, but before he could reply, Leeloo once again materialized in the cockpit.

Ziggy might have reminded them of the “permission to board” rule if the Eki wasn’t so clearly, and uncharacteristically, agitated.

“Forgive me for not waiting for you to exit the ship,” Leeloo explained in a rush, wringing their hands together, their distress tainting the air. “I am eager to discuss Kanrienus’ disappearance…”

“Of course!” I released Ziggy’s arm and gave my Jedi Master my full attention. “We’re actually investigating other disappearing planets for Astrum Force and would be happy to?—”

“Micah would be happy to brief you on the situation,” my man smoothly interrupted. “As well as inform you of his current hypothesis, which is incredibly helpful to the investigation.”

Okayyyy…

I was beyond confused. “You got somewhere else to be?”

“Yes,” Ziggy blurted out. “There is… something I need to attend to. Something I will reveal later…”

Ohhhhh.

Apparently, this diva did have a plan for sharing the good news with Leeloo, and the last thing I wanted was to get in the way of his creative genius .

I just hope no one dies…

Leeloo was still too upset to tease, as they normally would. “Very well. You may meet us in my office when you’re ready.”

Then, they gestured for me to follow, and we star hopped to the heart of Nuclei City.

Unlike Stellaria’s yassified Candyland Court, Ekistron’s version of City Hall was understated, with an exterior that matched the black lava rock buildings surrounding it.

We skipped the grand entrance, however, and instead landed directly in Leeloo’s office.

The interior was also built from lava rock, but the personalized touches—like digital picture frames showing what I assumed were holographic family photos—gave it a homey feel.

Sure, Leeloo was essentially the mayor of Nuclei City, but they were treated more like a “village elder” than a high-ranking government official. Eki hierarchy was loose, and the adults didn’t demand obedience or subservience, which earned them an obedience that came from respect not fear.

Earthling supes would never.

Now that I knew their position in Eki society, my sensei's initial interest in us during our first—slightly disastrous—visit to the planet made sense, but it still didn’t explain their continued investment in me.

I’d once asked why they hadn’t passed off my ongoing training to a less important Eki, but Leeloo had just laughed. They said they felt it was their duty to whip me into shape, and I might have gotten offended by the connotations if I wasn’t used to their brand of humor.

That signature snark was nowhere to be found at the moment. My Jedi Master had collapsed into their fur-covered, lava rock desk chair, their shoulders slumping in defeat as I quietly sat across from them, unsure if I should say anything or not.

“My children were on Kanrienus,” they whispered, and I froze.

Oh, shit.

I wasn’t sure if I should take that statement literally or not.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Unlike with supe families, no one on Ekistron acted as if the children running wild were a gang of little freeloaders who needed to learn to be useful, stat.

Eki society was communal, with everyone raising everybody else’s kids without resentment or obligation.

A true “village” in action.

This was in stark contrast to the vibes back home during Salah family gatherings, where I was expected to babysit—aka, keep in line—whatever niece, nephew, or younger cousin was within reach.

I didn’t mind because I’d always loved kids, but there was an underlying message that I had to do it—that I was required to pull my weight to help things run smoothly. Or else.

Little Miss Keep Everyone Happy.

That deeply ingrained urge to fix all the things flared to life, but I tamped it down. “I’m so sorry,” was all I said, clenching my fists by my side to stop from saying—or doing—anything out of line.

Even in their current emotional state, nothing escaped Leeloo’s sharp eye. “You are blaming yourself,” they stated, with a humorless chuckle. “You believe that if you had arrived here faster—if you had already solved the mystery of your mission—that you could have stopped the inevitable.”

The inevitable.

I sighed, read to filth once again by the alien who had everyone’s number, but also not wanting them to feel obligated to comfort me. “Yes, I am blaming myself, but that’s my baggage to work through.”

Leeloo observed me silently for a long moment before sitting up straighter and clasping their hands on the desk’s rocky surface. “How can I help with your mission?”

It was my turn to dryly laugh. “You’ve just lost your twin planet, Sensei. You don’t need to worry about helping?—”

“I want to help, for the sake of my children,” Leeloo interrupted, and I knew there was no arguing.

“What can you tell me about Kanrienus?” I softly asked.

Leeloo nodded. “Kanrienus was entirely populated by Eki who craved a simpler life than what we offered here on Ekistron. As our kind strongly believes in free will, we encouraged them to start a new society on a nearby planet. Thus, the ‘True Eki’ were established.”

The True Eki…

My intuition was buzzing up a storm, but before I could focus my attention on this fresh intel, a shrill sound pierced the air—the alarm signaling the city was under attack.

Oh, fuck !

Granted, the only other time I could remember hearing this alarm was when Ziggy had threatened to blow shit up in response to me disappearing for two whole minutes, but with how planets were disappearing left and right, I assumed the worst.

I NEED TO SAVE EVERYONE!!!

Despite the obvious danger—despite the trauma they’d just experienced—Leeloo was calm. The Eki rose from their chair, but then just stood in place with their head cocked, as if listening to something.

Something other than this migraine-inducing sound…

“It appears your stellar collision is in trouble.”

What?!

My concern was now skirting the edge of full-blown panic, but I forced myself to tap into our bond, grimacing when I felt matching anxiety on the other end.

Must. Save. My. Mate.

Leeloo’s hand on my forearm snapped me out of whateverthefuck primal state I’d just fallen into.

“Allow me to clarify.” The loving exasperation was clear in their voice. “It appears your stellar collision has set fire to a fallow field and requires assistance with controlling the blaze.”

What…

Before I could ask for more clarification, or wonder how someone so competent managed to be such a hot mess, Leeloo was star hopping us to the outskirts of Nuclei City .

To where my stellar collision was, in fact, standing in the middle of a fiery field of his own creation.