The Forgotten Commander (The Lost Planet 1)

That I can imagine, and I haven’t even seen the world outside their facility. If they’re resorting to breeding with humans, it is no surprise the place is dangerous. “What happened to your people? To your parents? How many of you are left?”

“Rekk, a ton of things. Disease. Droughts. Geostorms. Sabrevipes. Mortuus is a dangerous planet and only the strongest morts have survived. There are ten of us in all. Only males, which is why it’s so fortunate that you’re here.”

I notice he didn’t answer my question about his parents, and I don’t press.

Hadrian leaps to his feet when Avrell and Breccan return. “I better get back to my rounds.” Then he’s through the sliding door and off before any of us can respond.

I hope I wasn’t terribly insensitive with my questioning, and despite my loathing for this place and Breccan, I’ll make it a point to apologize to him if I was.

“Well, Doc, what do we do now?”

“We try again,” Breccan growls.

My heart sinks. I knew that would be the case, but I was hoping for a different outcome.

Breccan makes a move to grab me and leave, but Avrell stops him. “I’ll have a word with Aria before you go. Alone.” Before Breccan can growl, Avrell assures him it’ll only be a minute.

As soon as Breccan has stepped into the hallway, Avrell says, “I noticed you did something to Breccan’s tongue. We were curious if this was an alien custom.”

Mind blank, I can only blink at him. “Something to his…oh, you mean when I bit him?” Laughter bubbles up and spills over. “God, no. I was just pissed—angry—when he paralyzed me. It’s not a custom.”

Avrell’s shoulders relax, but his expression is still serious. “Good. But I’d prefer if you didn’t repeat that again. Open wounds spread disease and disease here can be fatal. Even the slightest wound could be catastrophic.”

“Is he going to be okay?” I don’t ask out of concern…not for him, anyway. I ask because even though he’s a monster, he’s the only monster here I know. Leaving me to another—potentially one who’s even more dangerous—isn’t an outcome I’d considered until now. So much for my plan to hurt him if it ever came down to it.

“He’ll be fine. I attended to the wound with microbots—tiny robots programmed to repair wounds.”

I have more questions about the microbots, but Breccan appears, impatient, in the doorway. Time to leave.

“Thank you, Avrell,” because I don’t know what else to say.

“Good solar to you, Aria,” he responds, but he’s already back to squinting at the screens.

I sigh and follow Breccan back through the hallways to our room. This time, I dress and climb into bed without questioning. I’m so tired I couldn’t care where I lie or with who. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with what happened to me. Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the adoring way Breccan looks at me. For now, I just want to get through tonight.

He settles behind me, wrapping me in his limbs until I’m surrounded by a cage of them. His warmth envelops me, attempts to comfort me, but I don’t let it. It doesn’t take long for the big guy to fall asleep.

As soon as he does, his heavy arm and thickly muscled thigh slung atop my sore and well-used body, I throw myself from the bed. There is no way I’ll be able to sleep with him. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

I steal a large shirt from the clothing cabinets and wrap it around me like a blanket. With my arm for a pillow as I curl up on the cold floor, I drop into a deep and dreamless sleep.

It’s not the sirens that wake me, but the weight of a full-grown alien on top of me, his ears flat against his head and a growl reverberating in his chest. “Sabrevipes,” he warns. “Attacking the facility. Stay here. Don’t leave this room.”

7

Breccan

The sirens are blasting as I rush to shrug on my protective gear over my minnasuit. I’ve called Draven, Jareth, and Theron to my aid as they are my most skilled fighters. When Hadrian pops up and starts putting on his suit, I roar, “Stay!”

“No,” he argues, donning his gear quicker than the rest of us. “I’ve been training to do this. I can help kill them. I’m quicker than any of you old morts!” He grins before pulling a mask over his nog.

I don’t have time to argue so I grunt instead. He better not get himself rekking killed because I’m not sure I’m mentally equipped to deal with a loss like that. But as much as I want to keep him caged away and protected like when he was young, he’ll never learn if I don’t let him loose from time to time. I snatch my sharpest and longest magknife, one that’s slaughtered many a sabrevipe. Draven picks up a spear that Ozias made. It’s pointed like a normal arrow but once it pierces its target, five blades shoot out so as you pull it back out, it shreds everything upon exit. It’s lethal, and Draven has proven to be the most skilled at it.