Page 141 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

His Orb-Blade is extended in his right arm, while he holds me over his left shoulder. I deactivate my own weapon. I’m useless in comparison to my warrior triad, and I know I’ll only slow them down if I try to stand on my own feet and fight alongside them.

So, instead, I use my brains.

Orb-Deck.

Quint telepaths the words, and I confirm their genius through the Bond.

We’ll never steal a shuttle to escape – Lord Oblog has already foreseen that strategy.

The ship’s bridge will likewise be well protected – but the Orb-Deck will not.

Orb-Shifting has become so dangerous that only a madman would try it – or a triad of Aurelian warriors just desperate enough.

Marcel and I turn the other way, while Quint and Lucius run ahead of us – but there’s no one in our way.

I was right – Lord Oblog sent the bulk of his men to the landing bay to cut us off, assuming we’d try to steal a ship and escape.

Instead, we reach the heart of the Toad mothership.

The metal doors to the Orb-Deck loom in front of us. Marcel gently places me down, taking the rear position to guard us from behind.

Lucius and Quint cut through the doors with their Orb-Blades, hacking them open. Their Orb-Blades are made of a contradiction of energy and matter, sputtering and burning as they slice through the reinforced doors like they were made of tissue paper.

Some of the metal is cut away – but some of it just ceases to exist; as if the Orb-Blades were slicing them out of this reality and throwing them into another.

Within seconds, Lucius kicks the last bits of the door aside, the metal crunching away as they’re forced open.

Bullets rattle from behind. Quint grunts, stumbling, and his aura flares in pain.

I gasp, feeling the shadow of his agony in my own aura. For the first time, I wince at the agony of my amputated finger. Until now, the adrenaline has been pushing the pain down.

Lucius rushes forward, scooping up the bent-over body of his battle-brother. He carries him onto the Orb-Deck.

There are no Bullfrogs or Sentinels here – just scared-looking Toads with trembling arms. Some of them are armed, and they shoot wildly in panic.

Their panic costs them their lives.

Within seconds, only one remains, sputtering and blubbering. “Please! Please! Please!”

This craven Toad knows only one word in Common.

Marcel growls out in the Toad language. I can pick up just enough to know he’s rattling off coordinates.

The Toad shakes his head, pleading silently – until Lucius places his humming Orb-Blade beneath the Toad’s jiggling throat.

The Toad rethinks his resistance – then rushes to a computer, hammering buttons wildly on a holo-screen.

I look at Lucius, who is supporting Quint. Blood spills from his bullet wounds. Quint tries to stand, but he falters, falling back to the ground. The mighty oak of my warrior has fallen.

Then, the coordinates pop up.

On the holoscreen, I see the coordinates for Colossus. My triad is going to Orb-Shift the Toad mothership directly into the orbit of the Aurelian home-world.

Quint coughs. I run to him, and the pain spills through his aura as he holds his bloody chest.

I rip my dress, pushing the fabric against the bullet holes. I try to stop the gush of blood.

Marcel drops to his knees beside me, gripping my hand. He stares into my eyes, his green gaze deep and emotional.

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