Feral Series IV: Feral Fallout (13 page)

"Please, go away,” she spoke into her palms.

Tears in her voice.

Cut my heart and shred it. I stepped to her side.

She shifted away, hiding her face.

Nothing could be as bad with her new beauty as her behavior indicated. The !Dakos looked more like her than any other humanoid I'd seen. She had to still look like a !Dako. How could she be so upset? I bent my knees and descended.

She actually withdrew even more inside her incredible mane of hair.

Beautiful. So long and sensual. The type of hair that a warrior would stop, given the opportunity, and run his fingers through, stroke after stroke. I reached out a palm and touched the silk.

She flinched. “Please don't."

"But your hair is so beautiful."

"It's eating me. I'll be swallowed by nightfall,” she blurted into her palms.

"Theone, D'ena, look at me."

"No. Please, go away."

What could I say? There was nothing to fear. I curled my fingers around her wrist and tugged. “Let me gaze upon my Goddess."

"No!"

Fine. We'd do this the hard way. I snatched her up into my arms.

She flopped in shock, dropping an arm, subconsciously curling another around my neck, revealing the transformation.

Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

Her skin still damp with tears.

But the only thing that could have amplified her beauty spritzed across her cheeks like a silver mist, a sheen. When her skin dried, there would probably also be a finer trace of silver on her lips and eyelids. The barest dusting—the most coveted mark of glorious creation. “By the Gods and sacred stars, Theone, you're
starkissed
."

She burst into tears.

"No. No.” I settled down on the hard cool floor with her straddling my lap.

She sobbed, covering her face again.

"Oh, little tick, you make my heart thrash. Stop that. Before I throw you on the bed and make you beg for a breath. I'll teach you to appreciate your beauty."

She threw her hands down, snarling with vehemence. “Stop it. Stop trying to make decisions for me. I'm thirty-one years old. I can think for myself."

Yes. She could. “Then stop making a firestorm out of a candle's flicker."

She focused a contemplative gaze upon me for a moment, then blinked. “I told you to stop it!"

At least, her tears had ceased. I touched a fingertip to her cool cheekbone and trailed it down to her chin.

She waited, quietly, expectantly.

What thoughts whirled through her mind? I tipped her chin up so she'd look at me. “This sheen you hate only sparkles in the light. And is barely noticeable. It is merely an enhancement on parts of your face. Nothing too prominent."

She blinked again.

Thinking. A nice reaction. I'd feed her more. “When I was a young warrior and spent years in the darkness of space, I'd see nebulas with so much color embedded with glinting stars I'd yearn for home. My favorite nebula was one that reminded me of the clouds on a sunny day back on Prall.” I touched a long tendril of her coiled hair. “White as snow and ice when the sky was as pale as the blue of your eyes.” I stroked a fingertip beneath her eye. “And the way the sky shimmered across the lake's surface near my home.” I dragged the fingertip across her cheek. “You'll always remind me of Prall, Theone. The sky and dancing sunlight on the water I could no longer see as I lived the life of the living dead, buried beneath Treusch's surface."

Her face trembled with a warning that another round of tears would flow.

"Why do you want to cry again?"

Her lips quivered. “Because I don't know you well enough to hug you to death."

Although we were even closer than what she indicated after she'd let me bathe her soul with my nanites and seed, I just didn't see her making the connection as flustered as she was. “You tried to strangle the life out of me just yesterday. But, D'ena, you and I are so close I'd be insulted if you didn't try."

She threw her arms around my neck and buried her nose in my ear. “I like who I am. What I am.” She quaked with emotion. “I don't want to be a cyborg,” she growled.

Given time, she'd understand what I'd already told her.

That being a cyborg was a condition. Not a sentence.

That being a cyborg was a state of mind. Not an inflexible thought process.

Being thrust into the war between two different cyborg cultures, she would realize this sooner or later. The Pralls and !Dakos were sentient beings. Not machines. And she was nowhere close to becoming anything other than the Goddess I met in the arena. I rubbed her lower back with my thumb beneath her canopy of soft hair. “Theone?"

"Since we're going to know everything about each other sooner or later, and since we're going to be together for a long time, not to mention, you're just really sweet,” she sniffed, “well, you might as well know my friends call me Theo."

"Then, dearest Theo, please call me Sol."

She sniffled and leaned back to gaze into my eyes.

Tears still glimmered upon her long eyelashes like someone tried to douse the fire in her spirit. But I could see the coals there. Ready to burst into flame.

"Well, Sol is a good name for you. Back home, it means sun."

Did she not realize the irony? “Theo,” I petted her soft cheek again. “The sun is a star, and you are
starkissed
."

She smiled the most glorious smile. “I wish I felt like I was
starkissed
now.” She batted her lashes playfully at me.

I could grant her that one wish. Just to keep her smiling. I pressed my lips against the salt-tinged pillows of hers and opened my mouth to taste the Goddess lurking beyond her salty pain. She canted her head one way and parted her lips until we gently kissed each other with tender nibbles and pleasant plucks of flesh. More a kiss of acknowledgement. Of understanding in how there was more between us now. I wanted that for her. Because I'd kill anyone who made her cry again.

Blessed Prall! My Goddess needed more than the prison could offer.

She needed sunshine. Rain. Fresh air. The green of the countryside. None of those things graced my bedchamber. I had to get her out of here before this place killed her inner fire.

And she had the makings of an escape plan.

M'yote almost spat blood as the vid screen flicked off. The !Dakos had to be showing me the recordings of the sex between Solvun and Theone for a reason. To obtain my assistance. I'd never collaborate with the species that decimated Prall's population. The accursed microbe's destruction overrode all sane pleas for help. More so, like I'd oblige their requests when I was dumped into an empty cell while my brother plowed home between Theone's pale thighs on a luxurious bed. Someone needed to rethink the !Dakos approach to coercion.

The door screeched.

Another round of persuasion? Foolish. The !Dakos feared my Handler powers. But they wouldn't touch me and risk my restructuring their biological structure into a lump of mush. Just futilely attempt to convince me to work for them.

Flonn, Rom's eleventh son, stepped through the doorway wearing the innocence of a machine lacking motivation.

However, I knew how each !Dakos warrior had independent goals in how they were simply reflected in his actions.

These !Dakos warriors might have had their minds replaced with computers when their skeletal modifications were made by the age of one year to avoid their telepathic minds attracting their beastly females who ran wild on the planet's surface, but the mere fact, alone, is one resonating
choice
. Fathers chose to save their sons. Fathers could just let the strong or fortunate survive. And the entire prison witnessed Theone weep for the changes made to her body—changes Flonn fancied ideal and beautiful when beauty is relative and defined by the individual. In other words, each !Dakos warrior has a choice. Bias.

Now, gazing into Flonn's fluorescent eyes glinting with bias, I could only wonder what the motivation was behind his visit.

"Follow me,” Flonn commanded.

The !Dakos warrior didn't speak at all en route to the planet's warm sunny surface. Nor did he explain as he took me to the hangar housing Goro's spacecraft,
The Savior
. But the rounded vessel sat alone inside the cavernous room without so much as a guard anywhere to be seen. Just what was Flonn up to?

His tall form led me into the vehicle and descended into Theone's pilot seat. He turned his gaze to mine and waited.

As if expecting something. “You brought me here for? You'll have to tell me why because I can't read your mind."

Humor danced in Flonn's fluorescent green eyes. “Sit."

Better to sit and learn what the cyborg was up to than stand around getting nowhere all day. I settled into the navigator's seat.

"Describe how Theone operates this vessel."

So, he thought I'd just hand over the information. “She sits there, touching the archaic console and alters the position of various switches.” My explanation revealed nothing.

"Does she command the computer?"

What a waste of my time. “Of course."

"Since she isn't telepathic, she spoke her commands. What did she say?"

"If I tell you what I can remember, will you take me down to eat with the prisoners?” Anything to get a chance to mindspeak with Solvun. The prison had some sort of system blocking telepathic communications through walls.

Flonn said nothing for a minute. His face blank as a board.

His thoughts undoubtedly heading off to meld in a pool of computer-generated electrical waves so similar to telepathic impulses that a shiver of dread crept down my arms.

Then life snapped back into Flonn's features. He locked his fluorescent gaze upon me. “Deal."

"The Captain cursed at the computer a lot.” Anything. Expletives. I tried to appear to struggle to pluck something from the shadowy depths of my mind. “And she spoke coordinates to the computer. I was surprised to hear her command the machine in such a crude manner. One would think pilots would endeavor to keep their skills hidden. Especially a pilot operating such an archaic,” I swept my gaze across the empty metallic shell, “mode of transportation."

Flonn studied me with the finesse of an interrogator—a keen pinch of brow and an unyielding stare.

So the !Dakos wanted to use
The Savior
. Maybe even Theone. But she was my mate as much as Solvun's. I couldn't allow them to separate her from either of us. She must be protected. My D'ena. I struggled to think of information to appease Flonn's curiosity. If only to gain myself access to Solvun and some time to mindspeak and plan an escape. I needed to get into Solvun's head.

Stepping into the noisy cacophony of dining inmates with a large portion of his view blocked by Flonn's body ahead of him was akin to being reborn for M'yote. And here lay opportunity. Where is my arrogant brother?

Flonn's broad mass strode onward through the parting crowd of extraterrestrials.

Toward Theone.

I should have realized the !Dakos warrior would veer straight for the female he'd altered. Marked. Albeit the changes only enhanced her beauty, Theone would have nothing to do with even glancing at Flonn's black boots. How odd after his pheromones had drugged her.

She turned her shoulder to him as Solvun stepped between her and Flonn.

But Solvun didn't explode like a pulse canon. He merely spoke. And Flonn instantly pivoted back to me.

Did the oversized cyborg host a trace of sadness caused by rejection on his face?

Yes. Just another reflection of choice and runaway emotion. Time to pass on the information to Solvun. I made my way through the prisoners to my watchful brother who stared past my shoulder.

Probably to ensure Flonn left the chamber. I pushed out, into his mind, marking my words in case someone dared eavesdrop. After all, this was a prison. Desperate people might resort to breaking even the most hideous taboos in order to reclaim their freedom. “
Have you been beating our D'ena again, Solvun
?"

His golden gaze locked on mine. “
No. Have you not been watching the fuck fest?"
His face sneered with the feigned contempt I easily spotted since I hit my teens. “
Do not worry. She will accept her future bit by bit with the passage of time
.” He flicked his gaze to where she stood against the wall, almost huddling for the shelter offered by the stone barrier as if the crowd's probing eyes bore down on her like a harsh wind carrying biting sand.

She'd tamed her wild hair with a long piece of cording by pulling it into one long thick tail and winding it securely with the black leather in sections along its length.

But Solvun couldn't be angry with her. His demeaning analysis of her situation was all show in case someone eavesdropped on our thought relay.

Solvun scowled at me. “
I will take care of her, little brother
.
She is mine to protect in this accursed place you've sentenced her to. My D'ena. Leave her alone
."

I could almost hear the vehemence in Solvun's words sent across the communications’ channel.

"
Do you see the irony, M'yote
?
A firestorm once burned in her heart. Now the coolness in her hair and starkissed markings instigated by Flonn's nanites dowse her flames. Her soul dies with the fire. I must pull her out of this before the D'ena you chose for us slips deeper into the murky cold darkness of Treusch
.
Give me time. I'll set the inferno raging in her eyes once again. I will save her
. “

Solvun had always been the poet—a true sign of a king. A great orator. “
Yes, I see
.” Time to fish for the makings of a plan. “
I've just returned from Theone's spacecraft
."

Solvun's gaze whipped to mine. “
And you didn't escape
?
I worry about you more often than not, little brother
."

"
I need Theone to pilot that rusty child's toy. Who flies something so archaic
?"

"
Our D'ena
.
I fear the only thing to bring the life back to her soul is to make her fly again
."

I snorted. “
Not with Flonn's plan. Whatever that may be. And he zeroed in on Theone the moment he entered the room. He wants her. Maybe you can get him to take her flying
?” Yes, it was a brilliant spark of a plan sputtering into a raging blaze by the next nanosecond.