Page 16

Chapter Ten

It was too quiet. Cylo hadn’t expected the Yithians to post guards, but no one hindered their approach.

No movement or light showed life. Nhyht’s frown said it all.

The front doors were unbarred, swishing open on silent puffs of air.

With blasters drawn, they spread out, ensuring no one hid.

In the process, they planted incendiaries and set the timer for ‘twenty.’ In the foyer, they reunited then hurried along the corridor, their steps no more than a whisper.

They dared not use the pod lest it drew attention.

Down they scampered: ears on heightened alert, armor maximized, and blasters raised.

No life signs on the second level made planting the explosives simpler, then downward they went.

Chaos on the third floor had Cylo wincing, but he didn’t adjust his hearing. “Scan,” he muttered to Olin, who waved his O.D.I.

He pointed at each room they passed, sending a male in to investigate.

Cylo stayed in front of a distracted Olin locked on his O.D.I.

, keeping him safe. When they neared the end of the passage, Olin tapped his wrist, swiveled his gaze from left, center, then right at the last three doors. He pointed to the third door.

Cylo inched it open. Sprawled on the table was an unconscious female, her hair solid black, her limbs not strapped to the table.

Without hesitation, he fired, killing the two Maloidians unaware of his presence.

On the counter was a data belt charging two cubes.

He tagged them, porting them to the scimitar.

Slapping the explosive to the wall, he hoisted the female over his shoulder and met Olin in the passage.

“One more,” Cylo said, heading to the left room. Inside, a damu-like female lay alone.

Olin slipped past him and, with one arm, held her against his body. He dug out an incendiary and tossed it onto the table. No data cubes were visible, and they didn’t have the time to search.

“There is another,” he said, his tone unfazed as he nudged the female over a shoulder.

Cylo blinked. “Do you mean an eighth female?”

“I believe so. She is in a central room with walls almost too thick to scan through.” Olin paused in front of the middle door.

“Six additional life signs spell trouble. Her core temperature is elevated: stress, pain, fear… I cannot say.” He gestured to the black-haired female Cylo was carrying. “Give her to me.”

Cylo did, gently scooping her onto Olin’s spare shoulder.

“Do not do anything foolish.” He held Cylo’s gaze. “I will hand these two to our males and return.”

“Very well, my battle-bond,” Cylo said, though he had no intention of waiting.

A second could mean the death of this unexpected female. Deception was against Etterian honor, but he was an operative, trained to lie if it served his mission. When Olin almost reached the stairwell, Cylo faced the final hurdle.

Eight? So Smez had lied. Cylo harrumphed.

That shouldn’t have surprised him. He brought up his blaster, checked the red kill button was set, and cracked the door open enough to assess the larger room.

A female writhed and yelled on a metal table, her tears soaking into her multi-colored hair.

Four Yithians held her limbs in place. A Maloidian sat on the floor, bound.

Another in a purple garment focused on an injection gun.

“You’re insane,” she screamed. Exposed parts of her body showed bleeding cuts, bruises, and the side of her face had swollen, now dark blue and black. An eye was half-shut.

Yet she fought on. Cylo admired her determination and strength of will.

The bound Maloidian met Cylo’s gaze but said nothing. An ally?

Cylo gathered the meager shadows around him as Malo had taught him and hid behind the closest Yithian. He flicked out his dagger, sinking it between the two vertebrae at the base of his neck.

When he slumped, one glanced up and hissed, “Etterian.” His reaction was swift: a kick to Cylo’s knee.

Fiery agony exploded outward and dropped him to the floor, and he hit it hard. He spun his dagger and, in an icepick strike, buried it into the Yithian’s thigh. As he fell, Cylo tackled him to the floor, stopping with the male pinned beneath him.

The other two Yithians released the female and lunged, their weapons drawn.

The tap-tap of a blaster button being activated warned Cylo.

He rolled the Yithian over him, letting him take the lethal shots.

With the full weight of the dead Yithian on top of him, he couldn’t avoid the flare from the shots burning him.

His upper arm went numb, and the smell of his blood saturated his nose.

He shoved the male off him enough to fire his blaster in rapid succession, killing the last two Yithians.

He staggered to his feet, his knee and arm displeased with him. If the building wasn’t about to blow, he could’ve used his med-gun. With time not on his side, he faced the room, pretending that blood didn’t drip from his fingertips and that his knee didn’t want to buckle.

The purple-clothed Maloidian held the injection gun to her neck.

Ice added to the sensations lambasting Cylo.

His O.D.I. vibrated with Fyca’s voice. “A Yithian ship is inbound.”

Alodon’s balls. No one was meant to see a single Etterian anywhere close to the destruction zone. “Is everyone on board the kuta?” he asked.

“Olin has returned for you,” Fyca said.

“Call him back and leave. We will port.”

“Acknowledged,” Fyca said, ending the comm.

The Maloidian laughed. “You have trapped yourself, Etterian. The facility dampens all porting when a ship is en route.”

Cylo smothered a grimace. They needed to escape the blast zone first. It would take an hour to reach the safest side of the island.

Doing so injured and with a female in tow would be hard enough.

He didn’t dare glance at the female or the bound male.

He couldn’t afford the distraction. Unsheathing his greatsword had the Maloidian flinching.

Cylo balanced it against the table’s leg.

Placing his blaster on the table, he sidled to the right of it to cup the female’s knee in a ‘casual’ pose while giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“The building is gutted. No one is alive. Do you truly wish to test your skill against an operative?”

The Maloidian paled, squared his shoulders, then lifted his chin. “I am dead anyway.”

With the last of his energy reserves, Cylo struck, slamming into the male and sending them colliding against the wall.

There, he held the Maloidian in place. Vials clattered to the floor, shattering and spilling their chemicals across the gray floor.

Movement on Cylo’s peripherals caught his attention for but a moment.

The female grabbed his greatsword and dragged it to the bound male.

Her arms quivered, but she held it still for the male to cut himself free.

“You cannot hope to stop us, Etterian. Earthians do not belong to you or your King Xeus,” the Maloidian gritted out, straining against Cylo’s weight.

He smirked. “They are called humans, xemi.” He snapped the male’s neck and stepped back, allowing his limp body to slither to the floor. For extra assurance, he flipped out his dagger and sank it into the corpse’s heart.

When he faced the female, she met his gaze, unflinching.

Time slowed; so did his breathing. Nothing mattered at that moment.

Underlying the steady pulse of pain was a tingling and a tightening of his chest as if to still his beating heart.

She broke eye contact and rummaged through a Yithian’s armor to withdraw a green-stained knife.

Despite the greatsword’s weight, she’d returned it to where Cylo had left it.

The counter on the perimeter was clean of data belts, but in a room this large, this important, there had to be some recordings. “I need data cubes we can use to unravel Yithia and Maloid’s interest in humans.”

The male pushed off, hobbled to a cabinet, and took out a data belt stacked high with cubes.

“You are coming with me, milady,” Cylo said to the female while he tagged the cubes with his good hand.

“Not without Hiossu.” She raised her chin, exposing the graceful column of her neck. “They’ll think he’s a traitor.”

“I will stay,” the male said, clasping his side where blood stained his tunic.

Having run out of tags, Cylo eyed the remaining cubes, considering leaving them behind. But since the data wasn’t on a central system, Olin hadn’t been able to syphon the information like every battleship did passing any inhabited world.

Before Cylo could ask, she stretched past him to shove them into her pants pockets and one down the front of her sleeveless tunic. He was taken aback by her intuitiveness.

Realizing they waited for his response, he growled, “You cannot stay. It is not safe.” Not with the explosions imminent.

He sheathed his greatsword down his back and tapped his O.D.I.

“Fyca, three to port.” He clasped her wrist—the skin there incredibly silky.

Clearing his throat, he quickly grabbed the male’s shoulder.

Fyca’s voice crackled. “Signal unstable. A Yithian K-class is on the way.”

Proving the dead Maloidian’s threat as true.

“Inform Olin to draw back until the area is clear.” Cylo clenched his jaw. “We will head to the surface.”

“Eleven minutes remaining, Cylo,” Fyca said.

“Until what?” the female asked.

“Now is not the time.” Cylo took his blaster and headed out the door. “Stay close.”

She did, on his heels, but Hiossu hesitated.

Cylo clutched his tunic and yanked, bringing their gazes in line. His patience was nonexistent. “We are destroying this place. Do you wish to remain?”

“No.” Hiossu stumbled back then fell into position behind the female.