Sula fell to her knees next to Mason. Hot tears streaked down her face as she tenderly looked down at his blank eyes. Her fingers trembled as she ran them down over his cheek. Pain and grief engulfed her at the senseless death of a good man. Looking up, she gazed through the smoke at all the destruction.
“Why?” she whispered, blinking through the haze of tears.
“The fall of this planet would just be the beginning of a new era,” a voice behind her said. “Drop your weapon, Councilor, or I will remove your hand from your body.”
Sula turned, falling to the side in surprise. Her eyes widened and she stared at the twisted face of a Waxian. He held a laser gun in each hand. Her gaze followed the direction he was pointing one and she saw the body of the Trivator lying on the ground next to the Drethulan she had killed. Her fingers relaxed and the Mylio-batoidei baton dropped to the ground next to Mason.
“You are my way off this world,” the Waxian stated, motioning for her to rise.
Sula pushed off the ground and slowly stood up. Her gaze locked on the male pointing the pistol at her. A shiver ran through her when she realized who he must be.
“You’re the one called Prymorus,” she said more than asked.
“This way, Princess,” Prymorus ordered with a wave of his gun. “Where is the other human?”
“Other human…?” Sula asked.
“The one called Destin Parks. Where is he?” Prymorus demanded, sliding one of the pistols he held in a holster at his side before grabbing her arm and pulling her close.
Sula couldn’t keep the cry of pain from escaping her when he roughly jerked her arm with the wounded shoulder – intense pain radiated down from the wound into her arm. His fingers bit into her through her long-sleeve, plaid shirt. She stumbled on the uneven ground, biting back another cry when he shook her.
“I… I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been working in the medical unit while he is fighting.”
“Do you have a communicator?” Prymorus asked.
Sula reluctantly nodded. “Yes,” she admitted when he squeezed her arm in a crushing grip. “Yes, I have a communicator, but I don’t know if it will work.”
“Contact him. Tell him to meet us at the body of water near here with an off-world transport,” Prymorus ordered, jerking her to the left and standing still next to a building as several Trivator and human soldiers ran by. “Now or he will find your body in pieces.”
“How can you expect him to bring an off-world shuttle? He is human. He does not know how to operate such ships,” Sula started to argue before she closed her eyes in pain when he jerked her around, pressing his thumb into her shoulder and the gun under her chin.
“He’ll find a way,” Prymorus murmured. “Now contact him.”
Sula whimpered softly when he pulled his thumb away. Her knees felt weak and nausea threatened to overwhelm her. For a moment, she was tempted to give up on controlling it and just throw up all over the Waxian ignoramus. She opened her eyes and reached into the front pocket of her trousers to remove the small communicator.
Slipping it into her ear, she murmured the command to connect her to Destin. It took several tries before he finally responded. Sula felt a fierce wave of protectiveness and love sweep through her, threatening to choke her when she heard the sound of his slightly breathless greeting and deeply drawn in breath.
“Sula….” Destin greeted.
“Destin… Destin….” Sula had to swallow before she could continue.
“Where are you? Are you in danger?” Destin demanded.
“The lake… Yes, Prymorus… Destin, Mason is dead,” she whispered brokenly.
“Tell him,” Prymorus ordered, shaking her hard.
“The lake… Prymorus wants you to meet us at the lake with an off-world transport,” she forced past the thickness in her throat. “He said… he said if you don’t that you’ll find me in pieces.”
“On the lake, where?” Destin demanded in a voice devoid of emotion.
Sula looked at Prymorus for instructions. Fear gripped her when he didn’t say anything at first. It took a moment to realize that the other man was unsure of the area.
“Tell him the old planetarium,” Destin finally said. “You’ll need a transport to get there. Go due east until you get to the lake, then north along it. It will be on an island by itself. It is a dome-shaped building. It will take me a while to get the type of transport he needs.”
“Proceed with caution, human. I have no fear of dying,” Prymorus warned. “I would not say the same for the Councilor.”
“Sula…,” Destin said.
Sula closed her eyes again and tilted her face away from Prymorus when he reached up and removed the communicator from her ear, effectively cutting Destin off. She turned her head toward him when he stepped away. Swallowing down her fear, she turned back to him and defiantly met his eyes.
“Move inside,” Prymorus ordered, nodding to a door nearby.
Sula slid past him and slowly walked to the door. This was the building where Chelsea’s transport was stored. She opened the door, and stepped inside. The interior was dim. The first three bays were empty. The fourth bay contained an air transport.
“You will pilot the craft,” Prymorus said, motioning for her to move forward.
Sula hesitated. Her feet felt like they were filled with the heavy ore of the Drethulan pods. She started to shake her head, but stopped when he shoved her in the center of her back.
“Why do you want Destin?” Sula asked in a thick voice.
“Because I am a force to be reckoned with! The Alliance will fear me, not just the power of the Drethulans and the Waxians – me! They need an example of what is still to come. He will be the first,” Prymorus replied.
Sula swallowed and opened the door to the pilot’s seat. She climbed into the front of the transport while he climbed into the back. Pressing the power, she waited while the doors of the transport closed and the one to the building opened.
“Why involve a human? He is not part of the Alliance Council. Why would they care about you killing a human male?” Sula argued.
“Chancellor Razor’s Amate will care,” Prymorus replied in an icy voice. “Move slowly and do not engage any other fighters.”
“This is a medical transport. The Trivators will give it clearance. I can’t say the same for the Drethulans,” Sula snapped, guiding the transport carefully out of the storage bay and into the yard.
She carefully maneuvered the vehicle clear of the building and rose. Once again her throat tightened when she saw Mason lying among the other dead. Swirls of smoke danced around the transport and she refocused on the distant shoreline. Pressing the accelerator, the transport shot forward, away from the Trivator base and toward Lake Michigan.
She was forced to keep the transport low. There were no more Drethulan pods falling from the sky, but the Trivator fighters were still locked in combat with the few remaining Drethulan fighters. Her hands tightened on the controls and she turned the transport sharply to avoid colliding with an escaping Drethulan fighter.
An explosion behind them rocked the transport and she almost lost control of it. Her shoulder protested the strain she placed on it, but she ignored the pain. Instead, she used all of the calm she could muster to focus on a plan of attack that wouldn’t leave Destin or her dead. Leveling the transport out, she moved away from the battle to the tranquil waters in the distance.
23
Destin stood frozen, staring across the open area of the base where he had been fighting. Smoke, fires, bodies, and the destroyed remains of both Trivator and Drethulan fighters littered the area. The remains of the burning Drethulan pods covered the area.
The acrid smell was so overwhelming that Destin had removed his outer T-shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. He didn’t bother replacing it after talking to Sula. His gaze locked on Cutter. They had been fighting together for the last several hours.
“What is it?” Cutter asked.
; “Mason is dead. Prymorus has Sula,” Destin replied. “I need your assistance.”
Cutter grimly nodded. “Where are they?” he asked.
“The old Adler Planetarium,” Destin responded. “Prymorus wants an off-planet transport.”
“I know where one is and I know a good pilot,” Cutter replied with a sharp-tooth smile.
“I won’t jeopardize Sula’s safety,” Destin said.
“He will kill you both if he takes you. I promised Trig I wouldn’t let that happen,” Cutter retorted, pushing past him to one of the hangers several hundred meters away.
Twenty minutes later, Cutter guided the off-planet transport in the direction of the planetarium. Destin sat beside him. He removed all weapons except for the knife he kept in his boot, untied the black T-shirt from around the lower half of his face, and pulled the shirt back on over his dirt and blood streaked white one. He discarded his jacket hours ago and had no idea where it was.
“Waxians are mercenaries. He would sooner cut your throat than negotiate with you,” Cutter was saying.
“I pretty much already figured that out,” Destin replied. “I’ve dealt with men like him before.”
Cutter shook his head. “They are ruthless, without compassion or caring for life – even their own if they discover there is no way out alive. To make the situation worse, Prymorus is a Waxian Warlord. They earn that position by killing their predecessor, which is no easy feat, believe me. Take into account what happened to Dagger and the situation on Dises V, and the likelihood of you and Sula surviving is very slim. There has to be a way to do this other than walking right up to him and giving yourself over.”
“It better not be one that puts Sula in more danger,” Destin said, shooting the other man a determined glare. “Her safety comes first.”
“Trig—” Cutter said, breaking off when Destin sharply turned to him and gave him a savage look.
“I,” Destin bit out in a slow, measured tone, “don’t give a flying fuck about what Trig, Razor, Ajaska, or some mystical message from the past or future says. Sula comes first. Do you understand?”
Cutter gave Destin a sharp nod in acknowledgement. Destin returned his focus on the scenery in front of him. They were approaching the planetarium. There was a grassy knoll where Cutter could land the shuttle. Destin saw a small medical transport in what used to be the parking lot.
“I’ll come around and land facing south,” Cutter said, making a wide circle over the water before swinging back around and coming in for a landing.
Destin jerked when the communicator he was wearing pinged. He touched his ear, and nodded to Cutter when the other man tapped into the communication so he could hear what was being said.
“Exit the shuttle when you arrive. If anyone remains on board, I will relieve Councilor Ikera of a body part,” Prymorus instructed.
“I understand,” Destin replied in a terse tone. “Release her and I will go with you.”
“You will go with me regardless of whether I release her or not,” Prymorus responded, ending the transmission.
“They are generally not very talkative either,” Cutter muttered, shutting down the power to the shuttle. “You go first and I’ll follow you.”
Destin nodded. He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a lot to say – Prymorus held all the cards at the moment. All they could do was hope that by some miracle the other man fucked up somehow. Swallowing down the bile that threatened to choke him, he unstrapped from his seat and rose. Walking through the shuttle, he glanced around at the strategically placed weapons he and Cutter had hidden. If there was a chance to escape and kill the bastard, he would do it.
Drawing in a deep breath, he placed his hand on the release. The platform in the back slowly lowered. When the platform hit the ground, Destin strode down toward Prymorus, who was standing about twenty meters from the platform with Sula held firmly in front of him.
Destin stopped almost ten meters from the other man and returned the man’s assessing gaze. His eyes narrowed when he saw a hint of fresh blood on Sula’s shoulder. She gazed back at him, her heart in her eyes.
“Release her,” Destin said in a quiet voice.
Prymorus’ lips curve up in an ugly smile. “You are not the one giving orders, human,” he stated coolly. “Where is the pilot?”
Behind him, Destin could hear Cutter’s footsteps as he descended the platform. An oath escaped him when Prymorus raised his arm and fired. The impact of the laser hitting Cutter in the chest sent him flying off the side of the platform.
Sula turned in Prymorus’ grasp, brought her knee forcefully up into his groin, and tried to get the gun out of his grasp. The blow startled Prymorus, and he groaned in pain, but held onto the gun. Destin didn’t wait. Sprinting forward, he tackled Prymorus around the waist.
This time Prymorus released the gun when his hand was slammed against the concrete as the two hit the ground and rolled several times. Prymorus landed on top and Destin elbowed him in the mouth when the other man tried to hit him. The blow, combined with the pain he was still experiencing from Sula’s unexpected attack, knocked Prymorus off of him. Destin jumped to his feet and reached for the knife in his boot.
“Stop!” Sula ordered, holding the laser pistol at Prymorus.
Prymorus shot Sula a venomous glare and rolled to his knees. He breathed deeply, the sound hissing through the air, and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“This is just the beginning, human. The Drethulans and Waxians have joined forces. This will not end here,” Prymorus said, slowly pushing up off the ground.
“It will end here for you, though,” Destin quietly replied.
Prymorus laughed and ran his arm across his mouth, smearing the blood covering his split lip. Destin felt a chill run down his spine at the other man’s laughter. Prymorus glared back at him. The flat sheen of his eyes was eerie, his gaze gleaming with a hint of insanity.
Destin was about to take the weapon from Sula when he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. Destin wrapped an arm around Sula and fell backwards just as a blast struck a small bush behind where Sula had been standing. Prymorus took advantage of the distraction and darted up the platform. Destin rolled onto his stomach and released the knife in his hand. Prymorus stumbled when the blade embedded in his right shoulder, and started to fall, but caught one of the supports on the platform and flung himself inside the shuttle.
Destin covered his head when additional blasts struck the ground a few centimeters from his head. Sula rolled onto her side and released a series of defensive blasts. The move was enough to give them time to run to the seawall that outlined the property, and hop over it into the soft sand on the other side. They crouched down in the sand, their backs to the hard surface of the wall.
“I’ve got to stop him,” Destin muttered.
“Take this,” Sula said, handing him the laser pistol.
Another round of fire forced them to sink lower behind the concrete wall. Destin glanced down at the gun and shook his head.
“No, you keep it,” Destin ordered, closing her fingers around the grip and pressing a hard kiss on her lips. “I love you.”
Destin could see the answer in her eyes. He didn’t need to wait to hear it. Staying low to the ground, he ran along the wall, keeping it between him and the thick row of trees their attacker was using for cover. He needed a distraction so he could jump the wall and use the cover of the trees to work his way around to the location where the laser fire was coming from.
He got his wish when Sula and another shooter opened up on the man. Destin could only guess that Cutter must have somehow survived the blast. Destin gripped the top of the wall, pushed off with his legs, and launched himself up onto the wall. He immediately sprinted to the row of trees that lined the sidewalk and led up to the planetarium.
In the distance, he caught a brief glimpse of their enemy shooter when he retreated back in the direction of the planetarium. Destin ran along the line of trees, looking to see where the m
ale was aiming his shots. He hoped to hell that Sula kept her head down.
The sound of the shuttle’s engines engaging helped add to the distraction. The male, realizing he was about to be left behind, gave up on firing and focused instead on reaching the top of the building on the off-chance that he could escape.
Destin followed him, jumping a low wall and running up the long, curved support that led to the glass roof. The male in front of him jumped off the support, swung his legs, then twisted and grabbed the edge of the roof and pulled himself up and over the side of it. Destin picked up speed and did the same. The muscles in his upper arms strained as he pulled the weight of his body up until he could roll over the edge and onto the glass.
He used his momentum to surge to his feet and race after the man. The shuttle was beginning to rise off the ground. Destin could see that the back platform was still down. A quick glance showed Cutter’s body half lying, half leaning down against the sun-bleached steps leading down to the water. From here, he couldn’t see Sula.
A fierce determination swept through Destin along with a rush of adrenaline. Destin surged toward the shuttle a second after the man did. They landed on the metal platform hard, one after the other, when the shuttle swung around. Their bodies slid with the force of the teetering swing and they went over the edge, each grabbing for whatever support they could find.
Destin grunted when the man kicked him in the ribs. His fingers slipped and Destin struggled to keep his grip on the platform. Twisting his body, he scissored his legs around the man. The other male fought to break free of the hold Destin had on him.
Both men’s heads jerked up when the platform moved upward, beginning to close in preparation for flight. Destin glanced down. They were just moving over the water. If he fell into the shallow water from this height, he would either die or be permanently injured. His gaze jerked to the opening. They were running out of time.