Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

Taxx thinks for a minute, staring out at the universe streaming past us. “They told me that if I alerted you while you came to rescue me, they’d kill all of us. And that if I came back with reinforcements, they’d kill her and the young immediately. But that if I came back with something of value to barter for their lives, they’d consider it. I had to take that chance.”

“But you know you’d be walking straight into a trap.” I’m frustrated beyond belief. “Let’s say you achieved your goal and stole Danica and the craft. Gave them both over. They’d kill you at that point and still sell your human mate and young into slavery. Or hold them ransom.” I blow out my breath.

He shrugs. “I had to try. I made the wrong choice. I’m sorry I betrayed Zandia and you. I won’t do that again. There are ways to honor the past and the future at the same time. I wasn’t clever enough then, to see it. I’m wiser now.”

Benn snorts. “Sitting in prison on Zandia made you into a sage?” He scoffs.

Taxx lifts one shoulder. “I had nothing to do but think.” He sighs. “And what I thought was that my mate would be horrified if I hurt another human to help her. She’d want me to do something honorable, even if it meant that I myself was in danger.” He swallows. “And so here we are.”

“Zandian honor,” I muse. “Legend of the galaxies.”

Taxx is still gazing out at the stars. “It’s one thing that always set us apart. Oh, we have the crystals. Our strength. Skills. But our moral code is well-known. A species who, in the end, does the right thing not just for themselves, but for the good of the galaxy.”

My gut twists. Have I been that kind of Zandian lately? But my situation is different. Surely that has nothing to do with honor. It’s all about passion, what’s right. What’s wrong.

Danica was wrong.

Where is she right now? I’m sure she’s safe. Bayla notified us that she was at the clinic, and once I knew that, I figured I could ignore her for a while. Maybe forever. Thinking of her makes me physically hurt in my chest, an actual piercing pain. I don’t need that vecking misery.

“We’re approaching Hectan-3.” Benn’s voice is taut. “Masked once again as a bounty hunter. Put on the new facial masks.”

The Ocretions were quick to brag about their deep IR facial recognition technology. Boastful idiots. Luckily, we have the human engineer Genevieve and her team, who quickly worked up full face masks that scramble our identities and make us look like Bensai, an even-tempered species who are generally left alone by most species, including the Ocretions.

“This is it,” Benn warns, and unsnaps Taxx’s cuff. The three of us put on the masks, adjusting them to fit. I’m amazed at how the the two Zandians transform in front of my eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d honestly not know they were my brethren—at least, not until they got closer and I felt the pull of their crystal energy on my own.

“They were being held in the smaller facility in back of the main prison,” Taxx says, although he told us this already, during the debrief. I can tell he’s nervous from the way he taps his foot, his hands. The quiver in his voice. “So nobody else would know and try to steal them from the captors.” He clenches his fists. “I don’t know how they’re doing.” Then he takes a deep breath. “How much time until the Ocretions realize we’re not Bensai bounty hunters?”

“No more than a minute after we approach the building, so we’ll have to move fast.” I open the cabinet and pull out weapons, distributing them to the two Zandians. “Every being know your plan?”

Benn nods. Taxx does too. He’s offered to take the martyr’s role: He’ll go in first; then—if he survives—he’ll stay back and ward off any pursuers, only coming back to the craft if it’s safe. Part of me is impressed with his dedication. Another part of me still wants to kill him myself.

The stench of Hectan-3 is just as foul as the first time we were here and my nostrils ache as we take our ground craft near the prison complex. This time we avoid the main gate, and follow Taxx’s directions to find the smaller out-building near the cluster of boulders and trash compactors. It’s quite far from the main prison, down a faint dusty trail of rocks, almost completely concealed by the abandoned machinery.

“We may be in luck.” I halt the craft behind a rusty earth-mover, its bucket locked up, frozen in place like some prehistoric behemoth on top of the cracked red earth.

“They hid it well.” Taxx’s voice shakes. “Humans and Zandian young are both very lucrative. The guard who has them kept it off the books and didn’t want other guards to

snag them away from him. They in-fight like vipers, the Ocretions. No trust among thieves.”

“Works in our favor.” Benn checks his weapon. “Ready?”

We all indicate yes.

Benn looks into my face, then Taxx’s. He lifts his arm at the traditional ninety degree angle. “Fight hard, brothers. For Zandia.”

“For Zandia,” we repeat, raising our arms.

Taxx looks at me for a long moment. “I’ll make it right,” he says. He turns on his heel and jumps lightly down from the ground craft, graceful and strong, and runs to the silver out-building, weapon raised. He’s fast and lithe, and we watch for a moment to see if he takes any shots before we follow.

Everything is silent near us, although we can hear the distant groans and explosions from the mining ops, and random bells from the prison. The only sound is our feet and our breathing, and when we reach the building, we press ourselves to it, on the shadowed side. Nightfall comes quickly on Hectan-3, and it’s nearly upon us.

“The door to use is the left one. That’s the one they used when they…brought me to visit.” Taxx’s voice is rough. “It’s secured by a level three voice rec but they used overrides all the time. Lazy.”

I adjust my stunner to the level needed to destroy the electronic lock. “This’ll trip the alarms. Move fast.” I blow the door lock, the tiny explosion brilliant, almost blinding, as the metal melts, and the smell of fused steel hits the back of my nose.

“Go-go-go.” Benn’s voice is urgent, but Taxx is already in, his hand-light illuminating the area, as we rush through the anteroom into a main chamber.

“Mikala!” There’s a tone in his voice that slices into my chest, and then the cries of a human woman and two small children fill the room.