Page 7 of Survivor
“We need to get you to the healer,” she insisted, her delicate fingers landing gently on my forearm. Her touch was cool, yet it seemed to impart a comforting warmth against my skin, a strange paradox that intrigued me.
“We need to go,” I told her, my eyes meeting hers as they widened with a combination of understanding and fear. “Seibring will not remain unconscious for long. We must be off the space station before he awakens.”
“We can call the station protectorate,” she suggested, her voice catching as she swallowed hard. I knew her thoughts were with her guards, who had already perished at Seibring’s hand.
“They cannot protect you,” I insisted firmly. “The only way to keep you safe from Seibring is to leave.”
I twisted my arm over in order to take her small hand into mine. It felt right, offering a moment of peaceful connection amidst the chaos.
Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of brown, gold and green, shifted downward to where our fingers intertwined and held as if studying the connection. Slowly, her gaze traveled back to meet mine, and with a firm, deliberate nod, she put her life into my hands.
We slipped out the back of the restaurant only after Lucy insisted we stop by the kitchen to inform the chef of her departure. The Framaddi chef was nowhere to be found. I could only imagine him tearing down the space station’s corridors, his flamboyant hat flapping comically around his ears as he screamed in a frenzy.
I kept us hidden within the shadows, our movements silent and deliberate. We needed to be gone long before Seibring stirred from unconsciousness, and the fewer eyes upon us, the better. The space dock was located two floors below the restaurant, and we made our way quickly, keeping to the alleys and stairwells. Once we arrived, I halted our progress beside a tower of crates, perfect for concealment, as I surveyed the vicinity around my ship. The dock proved relatively deserted at this hour, a hushed stillness broken only by the distant clanging of machinery and the murmurs of a few workers. A pair of Romvesian laborers meandered near my vessel, their dark gray skin glistening under the dim lights. Yet, I couldn’t afford to assume they were merely dock workers, not with my cousin Seibring in the area. My cousin was known to travel with a few cronies.
“We need another ship,” I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible above the sounds of revving engines.
“What’s wrong with your ship?” Lucy’s voice was a low whisper. Her eyes darted nervously as she scanned the shadowy figures moving across the dock.
I gestured toward my sleek silver vessel and then to the two Romvesians standing nearby. “I can't be sure those two don’t work for my cousin,” I replied, a hint of unease creeping into my voice.
“Oh,” Lucy murmured, her gaze shifting through the area until it landed on a mid-sized freighter resting quietly in the nearby shadows. “What about that one?”
I examined the ship she pointed out with a curious eye. It was larger than mine, the exterior bearing the marks of age and use, yet it seemed sturdy enough.
“It belongs to the Verdesian ale vendor for the restaurant,” she said, a faint smile curving her lips, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I happen to know he’s sleeping off a drunken night at the hotel.”
I stifled the urge to inquire how she was privy to the vendor’s nocturnal indulgences, deciding to save that question for a more opportune moment.
“Come,” I whispered urgently, gripping her hand tightly. We crept toward the freighter, slipping through the shadows and using the towering stacks of freight as our cover.
I held my breath until the ramp sealed shut behind us with a bone-chilling hiss, sealing us off from the chaos we’d left behind. We squeezed through the corridor, our shoulders brushing against cold metal walls as we made our way to the cockpit. I dropped into the pilot’s chair, the worn leather creaking beneath my weight, while Lucy settled behind me, her reflection ghostlike in the darkened viewscreen. The vessel wasn’t Zarpazian—its controls slightly alien under my fingertips—but the universal language of spacefaring technology was on our side. My fingers flew across the console, adrenaline sharpening my focus as I located the launch codes buried in the system. Adopting a clipped, emotionless cadence hopefully emulating an Verdesian pilot, I transmitted our departure request, heart hammering in my chest as I waited for the response. If fortune favored us, it would take Seibring some time to uncover our deception and I would have Lucy well away from danger.
The dock master fell for my pretense without hesitation, and moments later, we glided effortlessly through the massive metal doors, bursting into the boundless expanse of space.Finally, I let myself suck in a deep breath—a mix of relief and anticipation.
The blood from my chest wound had thoroughly soaked through the cloth napkins, creating a sticky, uncomfortable sensation against my skin. Despite Zarpazians’ being remarkably fast healers, we bled just like anyone else. I needed to locate a medi-unit to tend the wound, but my immediate priority was Lucy.
“Are you okay, Lucy?” I asked, turning the pilot’s chair towards her with a hopeful smile forming on my lips. I relished being alone with her for reasons I couldn’t fathom. However, my smile and excitement faded in a heartbeat when I caught sight of her standing a few feet away, her gaze unwavering as she held a small blaster pointed directly at my head. It was one of the weapons Diarvet left for me, no doubt. Personally, I preferred blades.
Chapter 5
Lucy
“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck just happened?” I demanded, gritting my teeth against the need to tremble. I needed to look tough. Of course, I couldn’t help the tears streaming down my cheeks at the thought of my guards. Bloodied and broken bodies stacked up by the dumpster like yesterday’s trash.
His bright teal eyes regarded me with a mix of empathy and amusement. Great! My attempt at acting like a badass amused him. Better than the other dude who wanted to kill me, or worse, I supposed.
“As I told you before, my name is Vraxxan.”
He had told me that before, I remembered, but that was before everything went to shit.
“I only want to protect you,” he added, holding his hands up to show he meant to harm. Dark crimson blood smeared his palms, reminding me of the nasty chest wound the other guy inflicted on him. A wound he got trying to protect me. My grip on the blaster slackened somewhat.
“Protect me from who exactly?” I’d heard of catfishing. I never experienced it, of course, but the TV had been full of shows about stupid women who gave their life savings and sometimes their lives to assholes pretending to be someone else. Maybe thiswas just a ruse for him to spirit me away to God, knew what. Yet, deep down, low in my gut was the most curious sensation that I could trust this guy.
“My mother,” he sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “She was the one who sent Seibring to fetch you. She is determined to punish a human female for the death of my brother.”
“Your bro—brother?” I stammered, tightening my grip on the blaster as the trust sensation waffled somewhat. “Aren’t you upset about it, too?”
