Page 51 of Possessed By the Dragon Alien
As the others dispersed to make preparations, Nena lingered beside Madrian. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on both of them. The possibility that their newly discovered happiness might be cut short haunted them. The love they’d only just begun to explore might be lost before it could fully bloom.
“Are you afraid?” she asked quietly.
“Terrified,” he admitted. “Not of dying. I’ve been prepared for that my entire life. But of losing you. Of not having enough time to be the male you deserve.”
She turned to face him fully. She cupped his face in her hands. “You alreadyarethat male. I’m a free Terian because of you. Don’t forget that. I won’t.”
He leaned into her touch. It was so very clear that High Chancellor Madrian was truly gone. This left only Madrian—her mate, her heart, her choice.
“Whatever happens,” she said softly, “we face it together.”
“I love you, Nena,” he said, and sealed the promise with a kiss that tasted of hope and determination and the unshakeable certainty that some bonds were stronger than any force the universe could devise to break them.
Around them, the great ship hummed with activity as allies converged and preparations began for the battle that would determine the fate of the galaxy. But in that moment, Nena felt only peace. Whatever came next, they would meet it as they were meant to—united, unbroken, and free.
TWENTY-THREE
Madrian stood on the observation deck of the Zaruxian fortress ship, watching the stars twist and warp as another vessel dropped out of space fold near their position. He’d clasped his hands behind his back and held his wings with military precision, but inside sloshed a tumultuous soup of relief and disbelief. He’d commanded countless attacks, orchestrating the Axis war machine from sterile chambers and spotless command decks, but now he watched an actual rebellion take shape before his eyes.
“That makes seven ships in the past twelve cycles,” Rien said from behind him. She’d been tracking arrivals on her portable scanner. “Word is spreading faster than we anticipated. They’re not even using encrypted channels anymore.”
The latest arrival was a massive, angular craft that looked more like a flying mountain than a ship. Its hull was dark gray with deep ridges and crevasses that resembled stone. As it maneuvered closer, Madrian could make out weapon emplacements built directly into the rocklike surface.
“Dokkol,” he said, recognizing the design from Axis intelligence files. “I’ve never seen one of their war vessels in person.”
“Neither have I,” Rien admitted. “According to my contacts, they brought twelve ships total. All converted long-range trading haulers, reinforced and armed for combat.”
Madrian nodded, cataloging the tactical implications. Dokkol ships were slow but nearly indestructible. In a direct assault against Axis Central’s defenses, they would serve as excellent battering rams. The mental image of those stonelike hulls absorbing punishment while his brothers in dragon form struck at weak points sent satisfaction through his chest.
His brothers. Even now, the concept felt foreign. He’d grown up believing he was alone, that the Axis had given him purpose and family. Now he knew better. The six of them had been scattered across the empire, raised as weapons, or discarded, as Takkian and Razion had been. Their true heritage had been buried beneath layers of conditioning and false memories.
But they were together now. And every ship that answered their call brought them closer to striking back at the empire that had stolen everything from them.
“Sir,” called Rek-tor, one of Stavian’s former miners, from the communications station. The sapphire-scaled Zaruxian had integrated his former workers seamlessly into the ship’s operations. They’d proven adept at military procedures and kept the Axis transport ship they’d escaped the mining colony with, having adapted it for combat. “Incoming transmission from the Darkslip.”
Razion’s former ship. Orcurrentship, depending on the day. Madrian had been waiting for this. “Put it through to the main display,” he ordered.
The holographic projector shimmered to life, revealing Razion’s familiar gold-scaled features on the bridge of the sleek ship that he was clearly reluctant to let go of. His storm-gray eyes held the intensity of someone who’d spent years fighting a guerrilla war against impossible odds.
“Madrian,” Razion said without preamble. “The Vedd Syndicate arrived an hour ago with fifteen ships. Mixed crews of pirates and smugglers, but they know how to fight andwillfight for us. Vedd’s asking for first salvage rights on any Axis vessels we destroy.”
“Agreed,” Ellion’s voice came from the speakers. He was down in the strategy room with the others, but his calm authority carried clearly. “What about the Sidran response?”
Razion’s expression shifted as satisfaction crossed his features. “See for yourself. They should be dropping out of fold space right about now.”
As if summoned by his words, the void ahead of them erupted in brilliant flashes of light. Ship after ship materialized out of space fold. Some sleek and some battered hulls gleamed under the starlight. But these weren’t the industrial haulers or pirate vessels they’d seen so far. These were proper warships, built for combat and bristling with weapons.
“Sweetstars,” Rien breathed.
Madrian counted quickly. Twelve. No, fifteen battle cruisers drifted as their systems recovered from space fold energy drain. Their crimson hulls caught the light like fresh blood, and he could see the distinctive spear-shaped prows that gave them their aggressive profile.
“The Hecron War Council sent their one and only ship,” Razion continued, his voice carrying across the communication channel. “Yuric negotiated the alliance personally. They want a piece of the Axis for what was done to the planet they share with the Terians.”
“Status on the other arrivals?” he asked.
“Cyprian’s contacts came through,” Razion replied, shaking his head. “Viparia’s new mate, Warlord Ukaan, has sent five warships from his fleet. They arrived tenpiksago. Plus, Siku’s group brought three armed transports.”
Madrian absorbed this information with the part of his mind that still thought like an Axis strategist. First, he knew very well who Warlord Ukaan was, and managed to hide his surprise. The Axis had doneplentyof business with the warlord of the Hinn-7 trade station. Either Ukaan was utterly smitten with this ex-courtia, or he believed the Axis’ days were numbered, to choose a side like this. Perhaps it was a combination of both.
