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Chapter Eight

Leaving the atmosphere of Yithia felt wrong. Where Cylo wanted to be was on an island in the middle of the Knaetian Ocean. He kept his gaze on Zucis, trusting Fyca to steer them true. No one spoke except Fyca announcing their impending docking, the battleship Phoenix their destination.

Impatience twitched his fingers. He gritted his teeth and willed his body to submit to his control. This task was almost complete. He activated his O.D.I. and messaged Jokta, sharing his concerns about Zucis. Caution was advised.

After the kuta touched down and the door opened, Cylo waited. He had no intention of disembarking.

Durok caught the edge of the doorframe and swung out. “Delivery of a Durn?”

Ending it in a question tempted Cylo to smirk.

“Greetings, Operative,” a male said, stepping onto the ramp. “And welcome, Zucis. I am Supreme Commander Jokta.”

The Durn bowed his head at Cylo and strolled out of the kuta. “My thanks, Supreme Commander.” Zucis glanced over his shoulder at Cylo then trailed Jokta out of the shuttle bay.

“Fyca, head to the Kevol for pick-up.” Cylo grabbed the strap hanging from the compartment’s ceiling. “I want no more delays.”

On the Kevol , he gestured to his males to head to the comm for one last check-in.

As soon as Qaff gave up the pilot seat, Fyca sank into it.

Cylo gazed at the males gathered around the holographic of Iphara.

Afax had chosen well. Cylo could trust these males with his life.

That mattered on an important mission such as this.

Each one would act with honor—well, as much as being an operative would allow.

Olin had done his research, with the underground facility fully known.

Cylo tapped each room that was a possible location.

“These are single laboratories.” Olin flicked the holographic to display the layout of a room. Cabinets lined one wall, and in the middle sat a table with straps at the corners.

Cylo grimaced, his imagination adding a squirming victim.

“Find one female and free her. Seven have been taken. If the Maker blesses us, seven will be saved.” He met their gazes.

“This is a Malo-sanctioned mission, and I have every intention of destroying this facility. Fyca, as pilot, you will remain on the Kevol as our exit strategy. I need you all to gather what data cubes you can. Any information gained will be crucial in discovering what the Yithians are up to. But rescuing your female is your priority.”

“As far as I know, Iphara does not have a port-dampening shield. I could port you in and out with minimal fuss,” Fyca said.

“I prefer that option,” Durok said, palming his med-gun.

“As do I,” Cylo said, “but it is one way to miss someone. We cannot allow them to send comms outside of the island. Which leaves us sweeping the facility and eradicating any who seek to stop us.” He grinned. “Let us teach these Yithians not to steal what does not belong to them.”

“I agree.” Nhyht folded his arms across his chest. “We do not know for certain where these females are. Porting in might put us at a disadvantage and place our targets in harm’s way.”

“We go in on foot,” Olin said. “I will start a body-heat scan. Fyca will run continuous surveillance and share the results with us all. I would prefer not to waste time on empty rooms.”

Cylo couldn’t help but be impressed by his males’ ingenuity. “Excellent, Olin, I did not want to wait while the Kevol ran another diagnostic.”

Fyca typed on the console. “What manifests I have found have one ship landing on the island within the last ten days. It is no longer planetside, but that does not mean our breach will be uncontested.”

“They anticipate our arrival?” Koddo asked, a frown forming.

“I hope not,” Cylo said, stroking his jaw. “Anyone who runs such a facility should not be complacent. They would be fools. And these Yithians managed to pass our defenses with females onboard.”

“Indeed,” Olin said.

“Once you have returned with your female, see to her well-being. If she has serious injuries, you know how to work the med-E.D.” Cylo bowed his head, praying the females were well.

Olin gripped Cylo’s shoulder. “You have considered all the variables, and we have planned accordingly.”

“We will succeed. These females need us to,” Koddo said.

“We depart in ten. All of Etteria is with us,” Cylo said as they parted, leaving him staring at the 3D holo.

To slip in, they’d enter through the front doors then descend into the lower levels.

He didn’t believe the Global Council or G.C.

condoned whatever happened down there. If they managed to learn anything, King Xeus would take the evidence to the G.C.

and insist Yithia cease this nonsense. Etterians needed humans.

King Xeus had made that clear. Not to mention, he’d placed Earth under Etteria’s protection.

And yet…

Cylo clamped down on his simmering anger.

There had to be something Etteria could use to force Yithia to comply.

King Urio claimed that Yithia had no interest in Earth.

Which either meant he lied or was ignorant of what his males got up to.

Etterians informed Xeus of everything. Perhaps King Urio was kept in the dark on purpose?

No, that made no sense. Cylo couldn’t believe such a strong male could be anyone’s puppet.

“What is the worst you are expecting?” Olin asked, zooming out to reveal the island and its many caves.

Cylo tapped a cave system, more out of curiosity. “We are overwhelmed, are unable to find the females, or they are dead.”

“And your plan for each of these?” Olin peered at him, patience in his still stance.

Cylo grunted, aware of Olin’s strategy to ease his anxiety. “We fight, we tear the facility apart, and we bring their bodies back to Earth.” He prayed, out of all the adventures he’d been through and would go on, that this one was the easiest with the best outcome.

Olin took over from Cylo to fiddle with the map, entering and exiting the caves without bothering to study them. “Every male on board would die for the good of Etteria. Females in danger does not change that.”

Cylo spared a nod before striding from the comm room.

“Cylo, I have a concern,” Durok called, forcing Cylo to stop. “Where will they sleep?”

“Anywhere we can find. They will be with us for the time it takes to reach the closest battleship.”

“True.” Durok inclined his head. “We shall ask the females. The narrow confines of the barracks might be too much for them after their ordeal.”

“Wise.” Cylo smiled, thankful that Afax had added Durok to his crew. They needed a male who considered the females’ comforts before they were onboard.

Cylo headed to his room which he shared with Nhyht.

It didn’t sit well with him to use the only officer’s quarters when his rank was above any male on board.

The door sealed behind him, granting him a small measure of privacy.

Spread on the table were all his daggers.

He’d brought his entire arsenal, even the tiny ones he was in the process of crafting.

Not sure what he’d need, he hadn’t taken the time to decide.

The new gold nugget Tius had mined for him was center stage. He palmed it.

Tension tightened his body, making blade smithing too intricate for him to handle in his current state.

He flicked the gold into the air and caught it, falling into pacing as he did so.

Energy pulsed along his veins, stealing his peace and sleep.

No doubt, Malo would’ve been commanding this mission had Prince Enyl not sent him to Earth.

Cylo smirked. Malo as an ambassador would’ve been entertaining to observe. The Malo he knew would struggle with diplomacy. All Etterians would when it required a tongue used to deceiving or spinning the truth in a more favorable light.

“Fyca, comm the nearest battleship orbiting Yithia.” Cylo waited, his gaze on his O.D.I. He flipped the nugget and caught it.

“Supreme Commander Jokta,” a male answered. “Operative Cylo?”

“My apologies, Supreme Commander, I did not wish to discuss my mission with Zucis nearby. Have your males noticed a change in the shipping routes—from Earth to Iphara?”

“Days ago, a Yithian trade ship left Iphara for Maloid.”

“Maloid?” Cylo frowned. Geffa’s involvement was no coincidence—something Malo didn’t believe in. “Will the Phoenix be remaining in Yithia’s orbit?”

“We have not received instructions otherwise,” Jokta said.

“Excellent. Prepare quarters for seven human females.”

“Seven?” Jokta cleared his throat. “Of course. How long will they be remaining with us?”

“That is for them to decide.” Cylo shut his eyes for a moment, hoping one of his males would find their Dar Eth among these females.

“All will be as asked. In addition, my pilot, Msar, will ensure the next battleship en route to Earth will detour to Yithia.”

“My thanks, Supreme Commander.” Cylo ended the comm then winced.

As an operative, his rank wasn’t above Jokta’s.

The right to ‘end a comm’ belonged to the superior officer.

What he knew of Jokta, the male would not take offense and report Cylo to Adviser Kanzo.

He swung his braid and caught the tail, stroking the tips.

Dishonor would cost him a foot of his hair.

He swapped the nugget for a dagger. Time to choose what he’d carry with him.

He also needed a clear path. Strolling through the front doors was a bold move.

With three weak suns, Yithia had eternal daylight.

There’d be no cover of nightfall to hide them.

Fyca’s suggestion to port had merit, but Cylo didn’t want to admit to any of his males that his fury simmered just below the surface.

He wanted to storm the place and cause the biggest destruction possible.

Then erase any sign they’d been there. If the buzz claimed it was an accident with few casualties, that would be a job well done.

Any Yithian he encountered would die—no justification existed to excuse what they had done and were doing.

He grimaced, prepared to do what he must. “Olin, can you still not pick up anything—no comms, access to their data cubes?”

“It is frustrating, Cylo. I have never faced such resistance.” Olin almost sounded impressed.

“Keep trying. If we can harvest what we need before the strike, I will be less reticent in my actions.”

“I will consult with Kemt on the Phoenix .”

Cylo waved a dismissive hand Olin wouldn’t see. “Let me know the findings, no matter the hour.”

“As you command, Cylo.”

The comm ended.

The door opened to Nhyht bearing a plate of kreso. He placed it on the table, shoving daggers aside. “Eat. We must be strong for what is to come.”

Cylo scowled at his disappearing back, not liking that the male spoke the truth.

He sank onto the chair, grabbed the closest dagger, and sliced through the soft steak.

He was careful when he peeled the sliver off the blade with his teeth.

While he chewed, he mentally planned the route he and his males would take.

They’d start at the beach and work out which doors to open first, which rooms to check, what the quickest escape would be.

Porting then? Yes, if a male found a female, then porting would be the safest. He killed imaginary Yithians with a blaster or his sword.

Upon locating a blurry-faced female, he’d toss her over his shoulder and port.

If he retraced his steps to the beach, they might encounter a swath of Yithian soldiers, all intent on taking her back and killing him.

If they couldn’t port…

He tapped his O.D.I. “Olin, is there a male on board who can strap the Kevol ’ s Chokaars to the shuttle?”

“Their combined weight would hinder the kuta’s ability to take off. Perhaps one will do?”

“See to it as a last resort should we be surrounded.”

“I shall speak to Koddo. I like this plan.” Olin ended the comm.

“Durok,” Cylo spoke into his wrist, twisting to do so and dripping momaberry sauce off a sliver of steak. “Ensure each male carries two med-guns. Should a female require immediate healing, a faulty med-gun is unacceptable.”

“Agreed,” Durok said. “Like I said earlier, you have considered all variables.”

For minutes afterward, Cylo sat there. The impossible still had to be considered. What if the females were well, safe, and did not want to leave?

He shook his head. With what he knew about humans, they were impulsive, stubborn, and almost damu-like in their emotional range. He didn’t think male or female would take too kindly to being taken.

Still, if a hostage chose to stay, he would accept that was her decision to make. He pushed aside his half-eaten meal. Maker, I hope that is not the case. In two days, he’d know if all their efforts were in vain.

He pocketed the nugget, grabbed his plate, and carried it to the common’s waste disposal.