Page 41 of Pact with the Alien Devil

She didn’t respond immediately. But her expression softened, the usual guardedness in her features giving way to something warmer. Something that spoke of trust - more than she was willing to admit aloud.

“We need to move,” she said finally, holstering her blaster. “Less than an hour doesn’t give us much time.”

The depot was vast - a sprawling complex of storage units and distribution centers that served as the primary weapons cache for the Fangs’ operations across three sectors. With the Spikes’ attack imminent, we worked quickly to fortify our position, setting traps at key entry points and repositioning the remaining security systems.

I connected my comm unit to Alkard’s private channel, bouncing through encryption codes. His face appeared, eyes narrowed.

“Raxin’s the traitor,” I said without preamble. “He’s given them access codes to the depot. Attack coming within the hour.”

Alkard’s expression hardened. “Eliminate him. Secure the depot at all costs. I’m sending reinforcements, but they won’t reach you in time.”

“Understood.”

The connection cut, leaving me alone with the echo of his orders.

Eliminate Raxin.

A fellow Vinduthi. One of our own.

As we finished our preparations, I caught Iria watching me from across the room. She’d been setting proximity mines at the south entrance, her movements efficient and precise. For a moment, the air between us shifted, the usual barriers falling away to reveal an unspoken understanding.

“If something happens to me... you run. Take theStarfalland leave.”

She crossed her arms, that familiar defiance flashing in her eyes. “Not a chance, Lieutenant. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

My lips twitched into the faintest smile, but I didn’t reply. There was no point arguing with her. Once Iria Jann made up her mind, the universe itself struggled to change it.

We took our positions as the first sounds of approach echoed through the depot. The subtle whir of transport vehicles. The soft metallic clicks of weapons being prepped.

My claws were extended fully now, my body coiled and ready. I gripped my weapon, feeling the familiar weight in my hand. Let them come. They’d chosen the wrong place to strike.

And they were about to pay for it.

IRIA

The air stank of plasma discharge and sweat. My blaster felt overheated in my hands, but I didn’t dare let go. Korvan was bleeding again, darker patches spreading across his armor. How was he even standing?

I ducked behind the overturned storage container as another volley of plasma fire sizzled past, leaving scorch marks on the wall beside me.

“Alkard’s coming,” Korvan said, his breathing labored as he reloaded his weapon. Blood ran down from a cut above his eye, mingling with the markings on his skin.

“When?” I asked.

“Not soon enough.”

Great. Just great.

We’d spent the last hour barricading ourselves inside the depot, rigging makeshift traps and repositioning defensive systems from other sections of the building. The Black Spikes had us surrounded, a seemingly endless wave of mercenaries pouring in from every entrance except the heavily fortified main door.

I fired off three more shots, taking down the first attacker before he could reach our position.

“Seven minutes of charge left,” I muttered, checking my blaster’s indicator. The smell of burnt circuitry told me the weapon wouldn’t last much longer, even if the power held.

Korvan gripped my shoulder briefly. “Save your shots.”

His touch lingered a second longer than strictly necessary. In the midst of this chaos, that small gesture anchored me. I’d gotten myself into some bad situations during my smuggling career, but nothing like this—nothing that had me fighting alongside a Vinduthi lieutenant against an army of mercenaries led by a traitor.

“They’re regrouping,” Korvan said, his voice low. He pointed toward the eastern entrance where shadows moved behind the crates.

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