Page 19

T he air stank of plasma discharge and sweat. My blaster felt overheated in my hands, but I didn’t dare let go. Korvan was bleeding again, darker patches spreading across his armor. How was he even standing?

I ducked behind the overturned storage container as another volley of plasma fire sizzled past, leaving scorch marks on the wall beside me.

“Alkard’s coming,” Korvan said, his breathing labored as he reloaded his weapon. Blood ran down from a cut above his eye, mingling with the markings on his skin.

“When?” I asked.

“Not soon enough.”

Great. Just great.

We’d spent the last hour barricading ourselves inside the depot, rigging makeshift traps and repositioning defensive systems from other sections of the building.

The Black Spikes had us surrounded, a seemingly endless wave of mercenaries pouring in from every entrance except the heavily fortified main door.

I fired off three more shots, taking down the first attacker before he could reach our position.

“Seven minutes of charge left,” I muttered, checking my blaster’s indicator. The smell of burnt circuitry told me the weapon wouldn’t last much longer, even if the power held.

Korvan gripped my shoulder briefly. “Save your shots.”

His touch lingered a second longer than strictly necessary.

In the midst of this chaos, that small gesture anchored me.

I’d gotten myself into some bad situations during my smuggling career, but nothing like this—nothing that had me fighting alongside a Vinduthi lieutenant against an army of mercenaries led by a traitor.

“They’re regrouping,” Korvan said, his voice low. He pointed toward the eastern entrance where shadows moved behind the crates.

I wiped sweat from my eyes. “I count at least fifteen.”

“Seventeen.” Korvan’s keen Vinduthi senses never ceased to amaze me. “And their leader is with them.”

As if summoned by Korvan’s words, a tall figure stepped forward, flanked by armed mercenaries. Raxin. The memory of Miggs’ confession flashed through my mind—Raxin had been the true traitor all along, feeding intel to the Spikes for months.

“Korvan!” Raxin called out, his voice carrying across the depot. “Your position is compromised. Your reinforcements won’t arrive in time. Surrender now, and perhaps Alkard will find your corpse with some dignity intact!”

Korvan snarled beside me, his sharp canines bared. I’d never seen that level of raw hatred on his face before.

“You think I fear death, traitor?” Korvan shouted back.

Raxin laughed. “No. I think you fear failure. You’ve always been a fool, Lieutenant. Blind loyalty instead of looking to the future, looking for a better chance. How far do you really think you can go, always working under Alkard and his circle?”

I thought of how he’d arranged Miggs’ escape, how he’d sabotaged our missions, all while maintaining the facade of loyalty. The betrayal would have cut Korvan deeper than any blade.

I gripped my blaster tighter. If I could just get a clear shot...

Korvan turned to me. “Stay here.”

“What? No?—”

But he was already moving, faster than I thought possible given his injuries. He vaulted over our barricade and charged directly into the mercenaries’ line of fire.

I cursed and followed him, firing rapidly to provide cover.

The mercenaries scattered, some dropping under our combined assault.

Korvan moved like a predator born for war, claws extended, cutting through the ranks like a storm.

But even he couldn’t take on this many alone. And I wasn’t about to let him try.

I spotted a clear path to Raxin’s exposed flank. If I could just circle around those fuel canisters?—

The world exploded in white-hot pain.

I hadn’t seen the grenade. One moment I was running, the next I was airborne, then slammed hard against the metal floor. My ears rang. Blood trickled down my forehead, into my eyes. I tried to stand but my legs refused to cooperate.

Through blurred vision, I watched as Korvan engaged Raxin. They collided with bone-jarring force, trading blows that would have killed a human instantly. Raxin caught Korvan across the face, opening a new wound.

Raxin smiled when he saw Korvan’s injury. From his belt, he pulled a small device and pressed it. A fine mist sprayed into the air between them.

Raxin remained safely beyond the dispersal radius, a thin protective shield shimmering almost imperceptibly over his skin—clearly, he'd come prepared with countermeasures against his own weapon.

Korvan staggered back, his face twisted in pain. I watched in horror as the wound on his side—which should have already begun closing—started bleeding more heavily.

“Like it?” Raxin called out. “Courtesy of the research you tried to steal from us. Disrupts Vinduthi cellular regeneration. Your famous healing response won’t save you now, Lieutenant.”

Korvan growled, pushing through the pain. “It’ll take more than your experimental toys to stop me.”

But I could see the truth—whatever Raxin had deployed was working. Korvan was weakening faster than he should have been. The biological weapons weren’t just a theory anymore. They were real.

“You should’ve joined me, Korvan,” Raxin said as they circled each other. “Alkard’s reign is over. The Spikes will take everything, and you’ll die defending a corpse of a syndicate.”

Korvan wiped blood from his mouth. “You’ll regret underestimating me.”

They clashed again, their movements almost too fast for my human eyes to track. But I saw enough to know Korvan was slowing. His earlier injuries, combined with the brutal pace of this fight, had taken their toll. Raxin drove him back, step by step, until Korvan’s shoulders hit the wall.

Raxin pinned him there, forearm pressed against Korvan’s throat, and drew back his fist for what would likely be a killing blow. The remaining mercenaries watched, waiting for their leader to finish this.

My blaster lay just a few feet away, knocked from my hand in the explosion. I dragged myself toward it, ignoring the fire in my ribs that suggested at least one was broken. My fingers closed around the grip.

Don’t miss. Don’t miss.

I steadied my arm as best I could, aimed, and fired.

The shot struck Raxin in the shoulder, burning through armor and flesh.

He roared in pain and lurched away from Korvan—exactly the opening Korvan needed.

In a blur of movement, Korvan reversed their positions.

His claws sliced through Raxin’s defenses, leaving deep gouges in the traitor’s chest and throat.

Raxin crumpled to the floor.

Korvan stood over him, bloodied but unyielding. “Traitors don’t get second chances.”

For a heartbeat, the entire depot fell silent. Then chaos erupted again as the remaining mercenaries realized their leader had fallen.

Korvan staggered back to me, helping me to my feet despite his own wounds. We retreated behind the barricade once more.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Nice finish,” I replied.

But our momentary victory changed nothing.

More mercenaries poured in, filling the spaces left by their fallen comrades.

We were out of traps, out of ammo, and out of time.

Plasma bolts rained down around us, forcing us back against the depot’s reinforced door.

I glanced at Korvan. He was pale, his movements sluggish.

He wouldn’t last much longer. Neither would I.

Despite his Vinduthi healing abilities, the accumulated damage was too much.

I’d seen how quickly he could recover from a single wound, but this was different—multiple plasma burns, blood loss, and continuous fighting without rest had overwhelmed even his enhanced physiology.

His body couldn’t keep up with the damage, and it showed in every labored movement.

He needed medical help, now. And there was no way we were going to get it.

The mercenaries advanced for the kill—then froze as a deafening roar filled the depot. The ceiling trembled. Dust and debris rained down.

“What—” I began.

The roof imploded. Through the massive hole descended a combat shuttle, weapon systems fully engaged. Its first salvo cut through the mercenaries’ front line, scattering the rest.

When the loading ramp dropped, five Vinduthi warriors emerged, led by a figure I recognized immediately from the rumors that flew across Thodos III. Alkard. The leader of the Fangs moved with deadly grace, his every step radiating lethal purpose.

“You dared to attack my people?” Alkard’s voice filled the depot. “You dared to betray the Fangs? Allow me to show you the consequences of such poor decisions.”

The Vinduthi spread out with military precision. I recognized Makar from his distinctive build, dropping into position near the east entrance and quickly setting what looked like proximity mines. Another—Havek, I guessed—worked on a portable terminal, his fingers flying over the interface.

Everyone on Thodos knew Alkard’s inner circle. Stories stuck to them like shadowmarks—half warning, half awe.

A mountain of a Vinduthi who could only be Razov charged directly into a group of mercenaries, sending bodies flying. From the shuttle’s ramp, a slimmer figure—Tazhr—picked off fleeing enemies with methodical precision.

Korvan straightened beside me. Despite his wounds, he grabbed his weapon. “Come on.”

I nodded. This was my fight too, now.

Together we rejoined the battle, fighting alongside the Fangs. The tide turned completely—mercenaries who moments ago thought victory assured now fought desperately for escape.

None made it out.

When the last enemy fell, an unnatural quiet settled over the depot. Alkard surveyed the carnage, then turned his attention to us. His expression revealed nothing as he approached.

“You’ve done well,” he said, his gaze moving between Korvan and me. “But this isn’t over. Whoever orchestrated this attack will pay.”

He turned to his men, issuing rapid orders to secure the perimeter and gather any intelligence. Korvan sagged against me, his strength finally giving out. The anti-healing compound was beginning to wear off, allowing his natural regeneration to slowly resume, though the process remained sluggish.

“You saved me,” he murmured. “Again.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, trying to mask my concern with humor.

The moment between us stretched, intimate despite the chaos around us. Then Alkard approached, his piercing gaze locked on us both.