The Lonely Orphan (The Lost Planet 5)

“Since you’re in charge around here,” Theron sneers, “maybe I should sit here with my metal female and let you go retrieve the aliens. My opinion means nothing.”

I unbuckle and whap him in the nog. “Let’s go.”

He follows me, stomping loudly. When he grabs a zonnoblaster, I shoot him a sour look that he ignores. I put myself in front of him so he doesn’t accidentally blow away Aria’s sister. We put on our zu-gear and masks in the event that the air isn’t safe. Once we’re ready, I hit the button to open the side door. The only light comes from a single bulb illuminating a door. I guess that’s where we’re supposed to go. Our boots clomp loudly in the cavernous space as we trek our way over to the door.

“Put the gun down,” Lyric says, her voice commanding and loud through an intercom.

“Seriously?” Theron grumbles.

“Do it,” I bark out.

The zonnoblaster clatters to the floor and he grumbles. A loud beep signals the door is opening. We walk inside a small decontamination chamber. The door closes behind us.

“Now what?” Theron asks.

“Requesting entry,” I bark out.

“Remove your outer gear,” Lyric once again commands.

“Is it safe?” I peek through the small square that leads to the other side, but I can’t see anything but darkness.

“Yes, and if you want to come in, you need to take all of that off so we know you’re not hiding any more weapons.”

I make sure to give Theron a glare before yanking off my face mask. We strip out of our zu-gear.

“Now grant us entry,” I demand. Breccan would be proud of my authoritative nature in this moment.

“One thing you monsters are going to learn…” The line cackles with static. “You’re not in charge around here. I am.”

A hissing sound can be heard and I immediately grow lightheaded. Air. The air in the chamber is being sucked right from the room. Not good. Not good at all. Theron and I both grasp our throats before everything goes blissfully black.

* * *

I blink my eyes and roll over on my bed. Aria. She’s the first thing on my mind every solar. I miss her laugh. Maybe I’ll go visit her and offer to hold Sokko while she gets her duties done. I’d love to watch her as she flits around washing things for her mortling and humming songs only she knows.

I start to stretch my arms above my nog and sit up, but something yanks on my arm. What the rekk? It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. This is not my room.

Cold zutametal is clamped around my wrist and connected to a long chain that’s attached to the bed I’m sitting on.

“Theron!” I bark out, my loud voice echoing in the small room. “Theron!”

I can hear his voice not far away, but it’s muffled behind a wall or maybe several.

“In a reform cell! It was an ambush!” he calls back.

A growl rumbles from me as I rise to my feet. The chain doesn’t let me walk far. Nearly to the door. I peer out the square window. Darkness.

“Let me out of here,” I bellow. “Right rekking now!”

Silence.

Well, aside from Theron’s laughing.

Of course he’d think this was funny. Probably laughing at my expense because I so foolishly walked us into a trap. I need to speak to her.

Lyric.

“Female!” I yell out. “We need to have words!”

More laughing from Theron. “Yeah, that tactic will work beautifully.”

I sense his sarcasm and another growl rumbles from me.

“Female leader of the aliens! Get in here right rekking now!”

Nothing.

Rekk.

I try a different tactic. “Willow? Are you out there? I know your mother.”

“No!” a woman yells as the door to my cell opens.

“You know my mom?” a woman with red hair and wide light green eyes stares at me. “What’s her name? How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

I slowly walk toward her, only stopping when my chain yanks on my wrist. “Her name is Molly.”

“And?”

“She likes to bless hearts.”

She gapes at me. “What?”

“You know this language? She loves rogcows too. You know of them? They ronk and the males have horns like these.” I flash my rogstud horns at her. “Oh, she says ‘Jesus loves you anyway’ a lot. Seem familiar?”

Her bottom lip wobbles as tears leak from her eyes. “Oh. My. God.”

“She says that a lot too,” I offer. “And talks a lot. A lot.”

“Nope,” another female says. “Emotions get you killed, honey. Take a walk. Let me handle this.”

Willow gets tugged from the doorway. The woman who replaces her makes my heart stop in my chest.

“Aria?”

Her lips press to a firm line. “Lyric.”

In the darkness they look so similar. As if cued into my thoughts, she barks out an order and then the room is bathed in light. Not a room. A reform cell. The wall beside the bed is lined with stone, but the wall across the room is lined with bars. The room next door is empty.