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Chapter Twenty-Two

“This is most interesting,” Ariez said when Cylo led Wren into medical. The older male was looking at them and not at the console like usual. “Come. Let me assess you. I am hoping to see changes.” He grinned, softening his features. “It is rare to have such an intriguing patient.”

“I do try.” Wren chuckled when Cylo lifted her onto the bed.

His chest swelled, and because he couldn’t resist the temptation, he stole a quick kiss.

“What do you expect to find?” he asked while gazing into her beautiful eyes.

“Nothing, for it is too soon. But…” Ariez tapped the console, summoning the dome. As it formed, it broke Cylo and Wren apart. “It would be amazing if something did happen.” As she drifted off to sleep, Ariez sidled closer. “The med-E.D. should assess you, as well.”

Cylo bowed his head in thanks. “Please. She mentioned my eye color fluctuating.” He exhaled, slow and controlled, exhaustion pounding at him.

She, at least, got dome-induced naps, for which he was grateful.

He didn’t like the shadows under her eyes.

“I am hoping it is the work of the Ethera, but I need to be certain.”

“I understand.” Ariez flipped through holographics options. Lights pulsed over Wren. “We know so little about the Ethera. The Durn created it, yet it acts as if it has a mind of its own.”

“Or like it is programmed along certain parameters. When it strikes, the pain is said to be excruciating.” Zive strolled into medical. “All the Eths have fallen to their knees, yet…you have not.”

Cylo grimaced. Wren was his regardless of whether the Ethera agreed or not.

“Medic Qaff noted that your void is shrinking. If it continues to do so, more so after the mating, then it shows the Ethera is adjusting the parameters to suit the situation,” Zive continued.

“Indeed.” Ariez beamed. “You make a remarkable pairing. One for the annals.”

Cylo scowled, not giving a damn about the archives. His future with Wren was unknown in the eyes of Etterian law. He’d take her and flee if Etteria tried to stop him from claiming her.

“Cylo to comm,” Fyca called, his voice reverberating through medical and the common.

Cylo patted the dome in farewell, his bracelet gleaming in the lighting, then hurried to Fyca’s side. “What is it?” He nodded at Lady Brenda in greeting.

“I am picking up an odd reading. It is almost as if we are being followed, yet there is no ship.” Fyca zoomed out and across the display vids, showing endless space.

“A malfunction?” Cylo frowned.

“At first, I thought it residual signatures from the Nahatyr’s departure. But…” Fyca glanced at his Dar Eth then met Cylo’s gaze. “My instincts say otherwise.”

“We are but a few days from Etteria and at full fusion pulse. Who would dare to attack us? And at that speed, is that even possible?” Cylo stiffened. “I had heard on the buzz—”

“Stealth?” Fyca ran his fingers across the console, flickering the forevids from light spectrums to sound sensitivity. “Nothing.”

“Send an alert on a secure channel to all nearby battleships.” Cylo waited for Fyca to do so. “Then open comms on this…illusion.”

“But—”

“We shall revert to Etterian arrogance.” Cylo grinned.

Fyca chuckled and hit a button.

“Maloidian, I am not in the mood. Kindly state the reason for this pathetic attempt at subterfuge.” Cylo put enough boredom and disrespect in his tone to anger the most bombastic of commanders.

The Maloidian bit was a hunch. Best case, he was speaking to nothing.

Worst case, an unknown species with phenomenal military might was on their backside.

With three humans on board, he didn’t like the latter. As good a pilot as Fyca was, they wouldn’t fare well against untested firepower.

Silence reigned. Cylo willed his heartbeat to calm, but that knot in his stomach didn’t ease.

“Scimitar Kevol , this is battleship Vindar , Supreme Commander Kyah here. Do you require assistance?”

“Share the comm,” Cylo whispered, wanting whoever was out there to know they were not alone.

“An escort to Etteria would be appreciated.” He grimaced.

Asking for such made him appear weak, scared, when he was far from it.

Had there been no females on board, he would have challenged the illusion.

“Fire up the chokaar, Fyca,” he muttered. “Let us be cautious yet prepared.”

“Indeed,” Supreme Commander Kyah said. “We have been tracking you since the Nahatyr left.”

Cylo nodded at Fyca who shared the findings on the anomaly with Kyah.

The supreme commander continued, “Battleship Ntima is also en route and will meet you at the halfway point.”

“My thanks, Supreme Commander.” Cylo squared his shoulders, clasped his hands behind his back, and glared into the forevids. “Maloidian, I grow impatient. You have two seconds before I start firing the chokaar in a grid pattern—”

“Oh, like Battleship?” Lady Brenda giggled. “I loved that game as a kid.”

“Teach me that this night,” Fyca said, spinning in his seat to smile at his Dar Eth.

“It is I, Ambassador Barro, on my way to meet with King Xeus. Do not fire. My apologies for the delayed response. The ship has new functionality we are not familiar with.”

Cylo kept his features stoic. The odds of an ambassador receiving an advanced ship without a trained pilot were laughable. But since he’d revealed himself, Cylo wouldn’t call him a liar.

“Should I send my data officer to assist?” He had to offer even though Olin was no longer on board. If Etteria could gain stealth tech, any future covert operations would have a higher success rate.

“That would require we both slow our ships,” Barro said.

“Yes,” Cylo confirmed. This would delay their arrival, but he was hoping for no more than an hour. The knot in his stomach hardened. He couldn’t shake the thought that this was a trap.

“Very well.”

Cylo glanced at Fyca. “Pilot, all systems halt.” This was reckless, but what choice did he have? He’d rather learn what he was dealing with than run to Issneen like a coward. “Ambassador, please share your location and prepare to be boarded.”

Fyca ended the comm. “We do not have a kuta.”

“I am aware,” Cylo said, flooding his tone with strained patience.

Fyca pushed on. “And with Olin not on board—”

“I will go.” Cylo arched a brow like him going was ever in doubt.

“Alone?” Fyca scowled.

“No.” Zive pushed off the doorframe and ventured deeper into the comm. “I have data analysis experience, and as an Eth, your life is not expendable. I insist you remain with Lady Wren.”

Cylo glared. “For the last time—”

“Your eye color fluctuates even when you are not emotional.” Zive gave him a pointed look. “On the slim chance the Ethera is working, we will act as if it has chosen you.”

“I have to agree with Medic Zive,” Fyca said.

“I do not need your approval,” Cylo snapped. “My mission, my scimitar, my decision.”

“We have no idea what awaits us.” Zive folded his arms across his chest.

“I am trained for this.” Cylo wasn’t about to back down. Not only was it his right, but endangering anyone else wasn’t an option for him.

“You wish to steal this knowledge,” Zive growled. “That is dishonorable.”

“In your world, yes. In mine, if it is for the good of Etteria—”

“Informing King Xeus of this discovery would allow him to barter for it. There is no need to act dishonorably. Which is why I will go.” Zive crossed the comm and stopped an inch from Cylo, shoving his face into his. “I pull rank as a lima kuu.”

Cylo bristled. “Alodon’s balls, this is not—”

“Enough,” Yelur said, his calm voice slicing through the tension. “I will go with Zive. You,” he pointed at Cylo, “will come, too, but you will not take lead. Guard the door and our backs.”

“ That you have been trained for,” Zive finished with a firm nod.

“I have the location,” Fyca said, making the forevids zoom into a strip of shimmering stars. A bay door opened, serving as a beacon of light. “Target confirmed.”

Cylo scowled at the elder males. “Suit up.”

He marched off, stomping his displeasure like a damu.

Grimacing at his behavior, he paused, drew in a shuddering breath, and proceeded to stride to his quarters.

There, he summoned a spacesuit from the replicator and peeled it on, trapping his braid down his body to an ankle.

He pocketed daggers then strapped a blaster to his thigh.

With a new helmet tucked under his arm, he returned to the common.

Wren was in stasis with Ariez vigilantly monitoring her. She was safe, for now.

Cylo squeezed Ariez’s shoulder. “I leave her in your care. Do not let any harm befall her.” The knot spread from Cylo’s stomach to his chest and wrenched hard. Why did it feel like he was abandoning her? “Trap,” he muttered. “Durok?” he said into his O.D.I. “Guard the females.”

“On my way,” the male gruffed.

Cylo waited with his gaze on Wren. His heart swelled, wishing he could kiss her lips, bury his face in the curve of her neck, and inhale her scent.

For now, she was safest within the dome.

Durok strode toward him, his greatsword in hand.

Behind him, his Dar Eth followed. She clutched a blaster to her chest, her chin raised with determination.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze switching between Ariez, Cylo, and Wren.

“We are boosting across to a Maloidian ship.” Cylo gripped Durok’s shoulder. “Expect the worst.”

“Understood,” he said.

Zive and Yelur waited at the shuttle bay’s door.

When they slipped into the bay, Cylo followed.

The door sealed as the bay door opened, the shield still in place.

They flipped their visors over their faces when the lights flashed to green, indicating a loss of pressure, life support, and gravity.

The endlessness of space was between them and the lit square of the other ship.