“No,” Rosalind says calmly. “I said fight, not commit suicide.”
“How?” Shidan asks. “We are outnumbered twenty to one or more. The human males cannot stand against one Invader, much less those odds.”
Rosalind sits in her chair, leaning back. She steeples her fingers in front of her face and frowns.
“Ladon thought there were weapons we could use in the bunker he found,” she says. “I agree there will be, too.”
“That is a long way to travel considering all the exits to the City are amass with enemies,” Sverre says.
“It is,” Rosalind agrees. “But we know those aren’t the only ways out of the City, don’t we?”
“I think it’s clear that the Invaders are not here for any other purpose than the complete and utter destruction of all we’ve built,” Visidion says. “My father has spoken to me that this day would come. That outsiders would come again to threaten Tajss.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why now? Why the all-out assault?”
“They want epis,” Visidion says.
“I get that,” I snap. “So why don’t they take it? The entire planet, as far as I know, is wide-open for the taking. Why bother with us? They can take all they want and what difference are we going to make to them?”
Visidion and Rosalind exchange a look.
“When we were off world,” Visidion says. “The rumor of life on Tajss was enough to ignite a fire. We did all we could to quell the rumor, but it would seem that our allies out there have failed to contain it.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t explain what’s happening.”
“Before the Devastation, Tajss had become little more than a glorified slave planet,” Khabri says. “The Twelve Galactic Federation planets vied for control of it for epis. It was a cold war for ages until it was ignited at last. The one who started the war was from Krik. If I’m not mistaken, that is the planet that you and Visidion were taken to?”
“It was,” Rosalind agrees.
“And?” I ask, shaking my head. Nothing is making any sense.
Everyone in the room seems to know something I don’t. Something that makes all of this make sense to them, leaving me lost.
“Krik was known as a gladiatorial planet,” Khabri continues, “even before the Devastation. A planet of primal pleasures and baser pursuits. They won’t just kill us, we will be enslaved. Some will go to their arenas for the pleasure of the crowds. The rest will be forced to mine epis until they die in the work itself.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say.
“I do not jest,” Khabri says.
“Gladiators?” I ask, unable to process the thoughts fast enough.
Earth history was a required subject on the generation ship, including vids of old documentaries and movies on the various eras. I was familiar with the rise and fall of Rome, but I had always thought it was more of a story, not something that really happened.
“I’ve been there. It’s real,” Rosalind says, as if reading my mind.
Calista is shaking, with grief or anger I don’t know. Fresh tears well and fall down her face as she steps towards Rosalind.
“Do you have a plan?” she asks through gritted teeth.
“Yes, we have one,” Rosalind says. “It’s dangerous and foolhardy. It’s also our only chance.”
“Tell me,” Calista says. “Show me how we make the loss of my love not in vain.”
Rosalind’s face twists into a grim smile.
“His loss will not go unanswered,” she says, unrolling a map on her desk. “Here is the plan.”
18
Anna
I can’t believe we’re even thinking about this. Rosalind’s plan is insane.
Khabri walks beside me as we leave her office building. Neither of us have spoken since walking out of the meeting. My head is spinning, too many thoughts, too much information, and too much loss.
I’m a leaf in a storm, being blown from moment to moment and unable to control my own fate. Is this the hand of fate that Khabri goes on about? Am I fighting against some universal power trying to guide me to… what?
His side? Love and babies and eternal happiness? What happiness can there be? We’re under siege by a far superior force, and our one hope is a two-pronged suicide mission?
“You are very quiet,” Khabri says.
His voice is soft, subdued. Does this weigh as heavily on him as it does me? I eye him out of the side of my vision. He’s so big, like a rock. Imperturbable is a good word to describe him, but does it mean he doesn’t feel? Doesn’t care? Do Zmaj feel loss and fear like humans do?
I don’t know the answer. I turn my thoughts over and around, thinking about Zmaj. They’re so… alien. Yet he’s been nothing but kind and protective. More protective than any man I’ve known my entire life. More caring. Even gentle.
How weird is that? Gentle. Him. All seven feet, overly muscled, bare-chested, wings, tail and even freaking horns, and still I find him gentle.
Well, not if he’s facing down an enemy. If he were like that towards me, I’d be terrified, but he’s not. Not with any human. Even those who’ve frankly acted like jerks and probably deserved it.
Gentle.
And now I realize he’s watching me with expectation, because I’ve been busily stewing in my own thoughts and ignoring his question. My cheeks warm as I clear my throat.
“Uh, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I guess I’m lost in my thoughts.”
“I would dearly love to know them,” he says.
I snort. “I want to know yours.”
He stops and I do too. I turn towards him, and he has this curious look on his face that is tinged with amazement.
“You do?” he asks.
My cheeks hurt, my smile is so big, and tears well in my eyes. Why am I being so emotional? A lump forms in my throat and I can’t speak, so I nod. I reach out and take his hands, squeezing them, and nodding even more vigorously.
“I am afraid,” he says.
The bluntness and honesty in his words drive into my heart. Blossoming in pain and love.
“Me, too,” I say, choking on the words. Swallowing hard, I cough and clear my throat the best I’m able. “Of dying?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Of failing to protect you,” he says.
My heart explodes as emotion too strong for my body swells. Trembling, I step closer. My breasts touch his chest as I reach up and cup his face in my hands. Words won’t suffice. Facing certain death, and still, his only thought is for me.
And I can’t quit thinking about him. About what might have been if things were different.
I tighten my hands on his face and pull down. He acquiesces, bending in, until our lips meet. Of course Khabri is far from my first kiss. Still, this is unlike any kiss that’s come before it. Those weren’t kisses, they were but the pressings of flesh.
This. This is a kiss. A kiss that ignites fire in my blood. It rages through my soul. His lips touch mine, and I transcend to something beyond. I throw my arms around his neck, giving myself to him.