The Forgotten Commander (The Lost Planet 1)

“Hadrian will call for us if there is any change.”

I place my hand in his and he tugs me from the navigation wing to an area of the facility I had only seen in passing. The chamber is full of suits and gear with a gigantic door that could only lead to the outside—a place I both fear and dream about. The freedom I’d coveted for so long now seems terrifying.

“Breccan, what are we doing here?”

He releases my hand to study the heavy duty suits hanging from the wall. After a few moments, he selects one and brings it to me. “Lift your leg,” he instructs without answering my question.

I do as he says and he helps me into the suit, which fits a little loose, but doesn’t fall off once he tightens all the straps. He dresses in his own and arranges helmets on our heads. A microphone screeches to life in my ear with a squeal.

“Uvie,” Breccan says into it. “What are the R-levels today?”

“Plus point three, Commander,” Uvie replies.

He finishes snapping us into our suits. “Prepare for an excursion.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m showing you my world, little alien. Now keep up with me, don’t stray. If I tell you to do something, you do it right away. This world is dangerous, but I’ll keep you safe.”

He takes my hand as we leave through the doors and out into the brilliant outside world. A harsh wind kicks up dust and I’m thankful for the thick, tinted visor. Despite what looks like a dust storm, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the open space. Breccan tugs me along a path carved into what looks like a mountain.

I don’t speak, I can’t, because I’m too busy taking in the sights around me. My senses are completely overwhelmed and the realization that I’m not home anymore hits me all over again.

I wonder if it will ever stop being a shock.

Up above the section of the mountain where the facility juts as proud and defiant as a mort brow ridge, Breccan pulls me to a stop at the peak. His voice is smooth as the finest liquor in my ear. I’m so distracted by how much I missed it, I don’t even notice the words until he says, “Are you listening to me, mortania?

I glance up at him, the brilliant yellow haloing around his face and glinting off his protective gear. My stomach drops and tears prick at the back of my eyelids. They overflow and one drips down my cheek.

“I’m listening,” I say, but my throat closes on the words.

“You’re not listening, you’re leaking, mortania,” he says as he gestures to my tears. “Is your suit hurting you?”

Laughter mixes with tears. “No, I’m fine. Say it again?”

I hear his smile even over the communication device between our suits. “I knew you weren’t listening.” He tugs me in front of him so that I can see down the mountain and all the way across the horizon. The dust glitters in the whistling wind and sends sparks up into the golden light. I’ve never had much stock in magic, but he wraps his arms around me and I wonder to myself if it might be real.

The radio crackles and hisses, followed by his voice. “Do you want to go home?”

I want to turn to look at him, but he tightens his arms around my waist and he points to the highest point of the sky where the gold fades to white, then bursts into royal blue. Twin, pale ghosts of white float equidistant apart. If you squint, they appear to be two halves of a whole.

“Moons?” I ask in disbelief.

“The orbs, yes. I don’t know of ‘moons’. But beyond that is your world, yes? Your family. If this is what you want, what you’re missing, I will find a way to give it to you.”

This time I turn in his arms and he lets me. I search his eyes, but they’re unreadable. He brushes a hand along the side of my mask and I yearn for his contact. “What-what are you saying?”

“You were so frightened of us—of Calix, who is one of the kindest of our faction—that you made a rash decision with the other little alien Emery. You were afraid of me.”

The last bit he spits out like food that doesn’t quite taste right. His words shame me and my gaze drops to the emblems in alien language I can’t quite read.

“I’ve done my best to understand your ways. To make you as comfortable in our world as I can,” he continues, then lifts my chin with a finger, “but if it’s not enough, mortania, if you are still afraid, I won’t keep you prisoner.”

I pull out the first words my throat will allow me to say, “What about the other girls?”