The Runaway Alien (The Lost Planet 9)

If I don’t make it back, Stella will hunt me down in The Eternals to kick me in the sac too.

I will make it back.

Wind whistles through the main door of the Facility. I sure hope the inoculation Avrell shot into me while I was out of it the past two solars while I healed is enough to protect me from The Rades.

Because it’s in our home.

The air. The contaminants. The beasts. The humans.

I know this because I can smell them. I can feel them. Their presence is a cloying fog around me, suffocating my every cell.

The three of us are wearing headlamps and each have a zonnoblaster at the ready in case a human male comes flying out of the shadows. So far, we haven’t encountered any, but I know they’re lurking.

Aside from the entry point door, the Facility is otherwise intact. We’ll need to make sure we repair it to also keep the beasts out. The thought of a sabrevipe prowling through our home, sniffing around for the vulnerable human females hiding down below is enough to make me sick to my stomach.

“Calix, send Oz,” Jareth whispers on his comms. “Door is destroyed. We’re going to clear the Facility first before we assess what’s going on outside.”

“He’s on his way,” Calix radios back. “Be safe, my brothers.”

Jareth and Theron hook their zonnoblasters in their belts before picking up a heavy weapon stand. They move it in front of the door, keeping it blocked from more predators until Oz can repair it while I cover them, scanning for any sound or movement.

“We’ll spread out,” Jareth says when they finish. “Check all the rooms, storage areas, and hallways. Shout if you encounter anything and need assistance.”

We split off, the three of us heading in different directions. I’m craving to check out my greenhouse and my own rooms, but it feels selfish all things considered. Instead, I make my way to the medical bay first. It’s dark in the room that smells of antiseptics aside from the glow of my headlamp.

Clink.

The sound is soft, so soft I almost don’t hear it, but it feels like a threat. My sub-bones start popping one by one as I stalk the source of the sound. If it were a beast, it’d be making a lot more noise.

Which means—

My thoughts are interrupted by a human roar. A shadow charges for me, the gleam from his magknife glinting in my headlamp light, giving me a hint at what’s coming for me. Ducking, I rush him too, aiming for his stomach. He grunts when my nog makes impact and we crash into something that sends zutametal instruments scattering with a deafening clatter.

The human male keeps trying to stab me, but he’s easy to overpower. He snarls out a bunch of nonsense—most of it claiming we can’t kill them all—but I end it with a snap of his neck.

Hopping to my feet, I crane my nog, listening for the sounds of more intruders. My chest heaves and rage consumes me as I think of these mortarekkers somehow getting down into the tunnels.

They won’t.

Calix has both morts and human females protecting the entry point. Anyone who tries to get in will be vaporized.

Focus.

Focus on eliminating the threats up here.

I want to call out to Jareth and Theron, but there might be more humans. I’m not about to give out my location. Once I’ve cleared the medical bay and all attached rooms, I slip out the door and prowl to the next set of rooms.

This time, I’m ambushed. By three—or maybe four—human males, lying in wait. They all come at me at once, magknives slashing through my minnasuit and cutting recently healed flesh. I growl in fury as I attempt to shake them off me.

Too many.

I manage to crush my claws into the face of a human. His howl of pain is otherworldly. With my fingers deep in his eye sockets, I use him as a shield, firing my zonnoblaster at the humans while deflecting any stabs by blocking them with his body.

Finally, I manage to eliminate all of them.

Five bodies, not three or four.

I drop the now-deceased body in my grip to the floor.

Six.

A grunt of pain has me whirling around, my headlamp skimming over shelves. I’m ready to blast this new threat, but when I see a familiar face, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Breccan.

“Commander,” I bark out, rushing over to him. “You’re hurt.”

It’s true. He’s bloody and his face is swollen from being beaten by this group of men. They’ve gagged him with a filthy piece of material. I tug it free of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” he grinds out. “Unbind me.”

I turn him around and use my magknife to cut through the rope holding him captive. Once he’s free, he unsteadily rises to his feet.

“What did they do to you?” I demand. “Where are the others?”