The Forgotten Commander (The Lost Planet 1) - Page 2

The room goes quiet aside from Calix’s tapping on his zenotablet. Galen and I get into this argument often and it’s in everyone’s best interest to stay out of the middle. It’s come to blows before, and I’m still nursing bruised ribs from the last time Galen got angry when I told him no. He’s mostly calm but loses himself to bouts of rage. Avrell, our doctor, has explained to me numerous times that it’s a chemical reaction because of his genetics and not an innate desire to drive me out of my mortarekking mind.

“Why don’t we just invite a sabrevipe into our facility?” Galen bites back, his fury rearing its ugly nog. “Why don’t we let it tear us to shreds and suck on our bones because we have no rekking future?!”

My own anger is snuffed as guilt once again takes its place.

He’s right.

Again.

“Galen—”

My apology is cut short when a trumpeting blare goes off. All discussions are ignored as the three of us take off at a sprint to the ship deck.

Theron and Sayer are back.

And the blare means good news.

Our boots slap the floors, echoing in the empty corridors as we run. When we reach the thick, double-reinforced door, each of us fumbles to quickly pull on our zu-gear. The thick material will protect us from mild to medium R-levels and our masks will keep out any airborne pathogens that could be harmful to our health.

Within seconds, we’re dressed and protected, each of us eager for a tiny morsel of good news. I key in the sixteen-digit code that only a few of us have and then we push through the heavy door.

Theron and Sayer, fully decked out in their own zu-gear, are already jumping from the ship and running our way.

“What did you find?”

“Were there any signs of life?”

“Did you scavenge anything we can use?”

Calix, Galen, and I all blurt out our questions at once. Theron raises his hand to silence us.

“Commander,” Theron says, grinning through the glass of his mask. “You’re going to lose your rekking mind.”

Sayer nods rapidly beside him. Their excitement is palpable. It can only mean good things for the faction.

“It’s something you need to see to believe,” Sayer tells me and starts for the ship.

We storm after them and up the ramp into the vessel.

Upon entering, I see the cargo area filled with what looks like cryotubes. Five, to be exact. They’re certainly not anything from Mortuus but I do remember reading about them in the library of books left behind by those who’ve encountered them before us. The same books that taught us everything from mechanics and technology to reproduction and biology, but not this. This is unchartered territory.

“What’s in them?” I demand.

Theron raps a gloved knuckle on the top of one. “Look.”

I stalk over to him and peer into the small window—and find myself staring at the strangest creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Lips similar to mine but much plumper and an odd shade of pink are the first thing I notice. The nose on the alien is pert and adorned with a device that looks to be used for breathing. Light brown markings speckle her flesh. Long, dark lashes fan the creature’s high cheekbones and an obscene amount of brown hair—the same color as my favorite root tea—frames her face.

Her.

Her.

Her.

Images from those books—books meant for older, mating morts—are forefront in my mind. Books that explained in detail not only mort anatomy, but also how two morts physically fit together to reproduce. The same books that every rekking mort in this facility has memorized and looked at for their own selfish reasons. Books we never imagined we’d get to use what we’d learned.

But now?

“W-What is this?” I drag my gaze to Theron. “Where did you get this creature?”

His grin is cold. “We were orbiting our planet in the Mayvina just outside the atmosphere, sending out pings. You know, the usual, searching for life.”

“And we pinged something huge. A cruiser,” Sayer explains, also grinning. His double fangs glisten in the light.

“A cruiser?” I growl. “What did you do?”

Theron shrugs and gestures to the cryotubes. “We detected life on the vessel. Hundreds. However, they had some life protected in these units, as though they were put in stasis for some reason. Being the slick mortarekkers we are, Sayer and I boarded the ship, slipped as many cryotubes into the Mayvina as would fit, before the vessel went into hyperspeed and disappeared. I’m telling you, it was a chance. A small sliver, and we took it. These are ours.”

I stare into the window again, mesmerized by the intriguing creature. “Have Avrell ready the lab. I want all steps being taken to ensure we don’t expose the facility to disease. Only open this one pod but keep the alien in stasis. I want Avrell to test her biological code.”

Tags: K. Webster The Lost Planet Fantasy
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