Page 44 of Lorran
Anyone with sense should not have been surprised.
“What do you make of this?” Mylomon withdrew the pottery shard from a pouch and held it up for inspection.
Lorran took the fragment, seeing now that it was far too delicate to be pottery. Off-white, gold pigments speckled the surface, shimmering in the light. He recognized the material, despite never having seen it in person. “Shell? They had Suhlik eggs?”
“That would explain why the Suhlik were so determined to destroy the lab.” The Suhlik guarded the location of their hatcheries behind layers and layers of protection. One did not stumble upon an active hatchery. The occasional abandoned hatchery would turn up once a decade. No viable eggs had ever been recovered.
“The incubators.” He had thought them to be tanks for specimens. In a twisted way, they were.
Did the Council know of Ulrik’s research? Someone gave him the funds for the ship and the equipment. How did he acquire Suhlik eggs? Were they only fragments? No. The incubators suggested whole, fertilized eggs.
A sense of unease crawled up his spine. This was an ethical issue he would gladly avoid. Experimentation on living subjects—even Suhlik—was forbidden. It was one of the few tenets all the clans agreed upon. The Suhlik had no such scruples and regularly captured Mahdfel children forresearch. Some survived their ordeals. Most did not.
Lorran looked to Mylomon, whose expression remained unreadable.
“There was no…yolk,” Lorran said, unable to find the correct word. “No biological material. The shells were dry.”
Yet Ulrik had been on the fringes of Sangrin space, almost in hiding, the only crew his mate, child, and a known slippery creature. Records of the ship’s travels and communications had been destroyed. The circumstantial evidence did not favor Ulrik.
“I do not believe I have sufficient rank to be burdened by the implications of this,” Lorran concluded.
“The first intelligent thing you have said.” Mylomon’s mouth turned down in a frown. “I will set the destination for this abandoned facility. We will see what there is to be discovered. See to your mate. Take the opportunity for rest.”
Lorran nodded, proud that his mate found the archaic map and understood its purpose.
“And warrior, separate bunks. It is a small shuttle,” Mylomon warned.
“Understood.”
Lorran pulled the partition open. His mate sat on a bunk, her bare legs dangling over the side. The sight of her wearing his shirt pleased him. He originally left a new shirt pulled from the stock of clothing supplies, but then swapped in his own shirt. Now his scent surrounded her. Other males would know she belonged to him.
He did not want to think too hard about the fact that the only other male was Mylomon, who was happily mated. It was not logical. Instinct urged him to claim his mate, and since that was not happening with Mylomon listening in, covering her with his scent helped ease his need.
She looked up, eating utensil in her mouth. A wicked look sparkled in her eyes. Slowly, she withdrew the tool and licked it clean. He had never been jealous of an eating utensil.
Soon.
They would have privacy soon. If he had to blind and sedate Mylomon, so be it.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“Better. Tired. Hungry?” She tossed a ration packet, which he caught with ease.
Lorran sat on a crate and consumed the ration. The scent of smoke lingered in the shuttle, not quite filtered out, and he wondered if it aggravated his mate’s breathing. His personal hygiene would also benefit from a shower.
His mate finished her meal, then retrieved grooming products from her luggage. Sitting on the bunk, she worked a white cream in her hair, then dragged a comb through her curls. “Any idea when I can call my mom?”
“That is inadvisable at this time,” he said. When her shoulders slumped, he immediately wanted to reel the words back. “SRV-P11was attacked by the Suhlik. Probability is high that they are still in the sector, and this shuttle has only basic defenses.”
“Right. Run silent, run deep.” She nodded. He did not know her idiomatic phrase, but the meaning was understood. “What’s going to happen to the ship? Will it explode?”
“The fire will die out when environmental support fails. Or the fire will burn until the hull is damaged, and the atmosphere is vented. It is unlikely the vessel will explode.”
“But it already did.”
“A little explosion. Hardly of consequence.”
She chuffed. For a moment, Lorran worried his mate had difficulty breathing again, but then she rolled her eyes. “Just a little explosion, he says.”
