Shattered Destiny: A Galactic Adventure, Episode One (10 page)

I locked the back of my hand
against my mouth,
and stood. I smoothly stepped back as the guards threw
themselves at the man.

Blood pooled down my shoulder and slicked
over my leg, slicking the tread of my boot. I ignored it as I took
one final step back.

All eyes were on the
man. Every single
person in the room stood in rigid surprise as the guards restrained
him.

All eyes, except for Xarin’s.

He chose to watch me.

I flicked my hand to the side, dislodging
the blood slicked over my fingers, and sending it splattering onto
the floor.

All too quickly non-essential personnel were
cleared from the bridge, which included me.

I was ushered back the armory, where they
had rudimentary medical equipment, which was all I needed,
thankfully.

My mind was spinning. I kept pulling my
hands up to look at them.

How the hell had I known that guy was going
to shoot Xarin? The second the prince had entered the room, was the
second I’d known he was in trouble.

How?

As that painful thought
spun
in my mind, I was led into the armory. Though a
tech offered to help, I didn’t need it. I grabbed a portable med
kit off them and set to work repairing my shoulder.

I tore off the sleeve of my tunic and threw
it at the floor by my feet as I rested back against a crate. With
the open kit to my side, I searched for what I would need with half
a mind.

The rest was locked on the armory.

I watched each tech and soldier in turn.
They all reacted to the shocking incident on the bridge
differently.

The first rule of survival was to attend to
your environment.

Watch.

Never let a detail go.

So I watched silently as I applied wound
mesh and skin glue to my arm. I didn’t bother to give myself pain
killers – they dulled the mind.

Some of the techs – the full
Arterians – looked
horrified
at what had
happened. Sure, I wasn’t familiar with their race, but some facial
expressions are universal.

Some of the other techs and soldiers – the
ones who looked as if they were mixed race – barely registered
it.

Others… looked pleased. Maybe I
was making that
up
– an independent observer
wouldn’t be able to pick up the same emotions I was – but I just
knew they didn’t care that Xarin had almost been killed.

I found my eyes narrowing to a point.

So I wasn’t the only person who hated Xarin,
then.

As soon as I thought that, pain stabbed
through my head. I flicked my neck to the side, brought a hand up,
and locked it on my brow.

Just as I did, the doors opened.

…
I knew who it was, even
before they strode into the room.

Xarin, finally in full armor. Though his
helmet was off, a slim, almost translucent force field remained
over his face.

Mark was by his side.

Xarin strode
in
with purpose.

Towards me.

Just before my heart could explode in my
chest, he strode right past to the primary armory cupboard on the
far wall.

…
He didn’t even glance my
way.

I’d just saved his life, and he didn’t even
deign to register my presence.

He spoke to Mark in hushed tones.

As soon as he reached the back wall, a light
appeared over the top of the cupboard.

The cupboard was made out of a specialized
kind of metal mesh that crackled with a constant charge of
electricity.

It was designed to keep people
out. With the right code, a man in armor would be able to walk
through. Without the right code, he’d be fried to
a pile of ash
.

I doubted there was anything on
this ship the prince couldn’t access. And as he strode towards the
metal cupboard, a door opened for
him
.

Instantly the array of weapons lined up on
the wall changed. The wall disappeared into a recess in the floor,
revealing another wall behind.

…
And it was crammed full
of weapons.

Weapons that had the strangest effect on
me.

My body seized. It was as if that ghostly
hand was back, this time clutching around my throat with all the
force of a noose.

I even brought a suddenly sweaty hand up and
clutched it against my neck.

I couldn’t see properly, and I pushed to my
feet, slowly, body as rigid as rock.

The prince and Mark did not spend long in
the weapons cupboard. The prince selected something off the wall,
locked it against his back, and walked out.

Immediately the wall disappeared, revealing
the ordinary array of weapons once more.

O
nce Mark and the prince were out of the
cupboard, it locked again.

Sit back down,
I begged
myself.
Sit
back down, you idiot.

No matter how hard I berated myself, my body
wouldn’t comply.

As Mark and the prince drew closer, I
picked up their conversation.

“Quick. It has to be quick. No
mistakes this time,” the prince growled, voice dropping several
registers on the phrase
this time.

I caught myself staring into his eyes once
more.

Mesmerizing
didn’t do them
justice….

They reached me.

The prince stopped. For the first time he
appeared to acknowledge my presence. His gaze flicked from my
blood-covered boots, across to my arm, then finally to my
face.

He didn’t say anything.

It took Mark clearing his throat to break
the uncomfortable silence.

The prince straightened. There was
something so penetrating about his gaze. It reminded me on every
level that he wasn’t human. More than that, though, it reminded me
that he thought he was a god.

I wanted my jaw to harden, but it resisted
my move.

Mark cleared his throat once more. “Your
highness, this is the woman from—”

“The worker from the refinery,” Xarin
interrupted.

The worker from the refinery…? Really? That
was how he referred to me?

Barely 10 minutes ago, I had saved his
life.

Finally my jaw hardened. I made no attempt
to control my expression.

The prince made no attempt to control his
expression, either, as he appeared to survey me like you might a
specimen in a lab.

Again Mark cleared his throat. “After
training, she’ll be cleared for operational missions. She’s already
been fitted for her armor.”

The prince didn’t appear to care. He kept
looking at me, his gaze slicing over my form, as if he were taking
a mental picture so perfect he’d be able to recreate me later.

My stomach curdled at that, though curdled
wasn’t quite the right word.

“She will make a great asset to our
fighting force,” Mark continued.

Xarin tipped his head back and
surveyed me from head to foot with
one quick, final, dismissive look. “Once
she’s cleaned up,” he remarked as he turned from me, without ever
making actual eye contact, and nodded at Mark, “She may
suffice.”

She may suffice, might she?

This guy was a demeaning, arrogant,
belittling asshole.

Maybe Mark caught sight of my expression,
because he cleared his throat, nodded at Xarin, and quickly
motioned me away.

I turned, a sneer on my lips as I strode
towards the door.

Mark caught up to me outside, another
clearly impressed breath pushing from his parted lips. But his
expression had a hard edge, too. “Shar, you were incredible on the
bridge. But you can’t….” He appeared to be uncomfortable. He
sniffed and took a sharp step backwards. “Look,” he tipped his head
down and looked up at me from under his brows, “You can’t look at
Prince Xarin like that.”

I made no attempt to hide my
disgust.
“Really? I can’t look at him like that? Because he was
looking at me like I’m nothing more than a goddamn scrap of
meat.”

Mark paled, gaze flashing up and down the
corridor as if he were checking for witnesses. He pressed forward
again.

For some reason, my heart chose that exact
moment to speed up.

I looked at him with wide eyes.

“Shar, I know
you're
unfamiliar with the Arterian Royal Family. I know
you don’t know their traditions. People will cut you some
slack.
Some,”
his voice reverberated on that word. “But you can’t act out
of line. Especially around Xarin. You have to be
careful.”

I opened my mouth to demand why, but Mark
brought up a hand so quickly it was almost as if he intended to
slice it through the wall.

“Be careful,” he said, the kindness
dropping from his tone.

I surveyed him with a wary gaze. “Fine,” I
said through clenched teeth. “How long until we reach the civilian
transport?” I demanded, switching moods almost
instantly.

My troubles with Xarin may be one thing –
a terrible, frustrating thing – but I had morals. Hardened, gritty
morals that had survived with me all these years.

You didn’t put innocents at risk.

Again Mark looked impressed. It was a
deeper, more thoughtful look this time. He began to slowly chuckle
as he tilted his head to the side and appeared to assess me from a
different angle. “We don’t come across many like you in the
Empire,” he said softly, distractedly.

My eyebrows descended low over my eyes.
“What does that mean?”

There was an odd touch to his tone. For some
reason it sent the smallest spark of nerves climbing my back.

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “And the
transport, that doesn’t concern you. You’ve been injured.” His gaze
flashed down to my shoulder.

Instinctively I brought a hand up and ran
it over my glued-on wound-mesh. “I’m fine. It’ll heal. I’m ready
for battle,” I added.

He chucked his head back and laughed. “I’m
sure you are. That’s not the point. The prince wants this to be
done quickly, smoothly. He’s only taking his Imperial guards. It
should be enough. You, go to your quarters and rest.”

“Quarters?” I questioned.

He laughed again. And Mark appeared to
enjoy laughing at me, because his eyes sparkled all the more every
time he did it. “Where did you think you would sleep? At Xarin’s
foot?” he commented.

Maybe the comment was intended to be
innocent. It wasn’t. It was like a punch to the gut.

I felt my heart shudder, my breathing become
so shallow my chest began to fill with a cold pressure.

If Mark saw my disproportionate reaction,
he didn’t comment on it. “You get your own quarters, Shar. This
ship is big enough that crew don’t have to share. If you ask one of
the armory guards, they’ll let you know where it is. But I have to
go now.” He turned to walk away, but couldn’t appear to do it. He
flicked his gaze back to me. I couldn’t be sure, but I felt as if
it lingered.

I didn’t blush. I never felt embarrassed.
And yet I had the strangest desire to shrink away from him. “…
Yes?”

“Never mind.” With that, he turned and
walked away.

I watched him.

“Good luck,” I muttered.

He didn’t turn.

With nothing else to do, I found my quarters
and settled in.

Before I knew what I was doing, I flopped on
my bed, locked my hands over my eyes, and stared at the ceiling
through my interlacing fingers.

Though I tried hard to fight it
– though I used every mental technique I knew – I couldn’t stop
myself. My every thought returned to the prince
.

Several weeks passed.

My reaction to the prince only became
stronger, though I barely saw him.

I’d now learnt that he had an entire deck of
the ship to himself, and it was practically a mortal crime to go
there without being invited.

I wanted to say that I’d grown to hate him
completely, but that wasn’t true. Sometimes on the edge of sleep, I
would catch myself thinking about him, almost longing for him. The
thought was such a sickening one, that it made me want to
retch.

I went through my training quickly.
Extremely quickly, according to Mark. Because the training was too
easy. Too regimented. It prepared the Arterian soldiers for
ordinary battle, but battle was never ordinary. Once you’re thrust
into a real life-or-death situation, people do not react
predictably. They do everything they can to survive.

I was not as restless aboard the ship as I
thought I’d be. The other soldiers in my unit were coming to
begrudgingly accept me.

And as I stood there in the deployment
bay, waiting for my orders, I noted nobody glared at me as if I
didn’t belong anymore. They barely noted my presence at
all.

That I could deal with.

I brought my hand up and checked my helmet,
sliding my fingers along the point at which it connected to my neck
plating.

It was secure.

Though at first my armor had
felt like a coffin, now I was
accustomed
to it. It was like a second skin.

Suddenly the massive doors into the
deployment room opened, and in strode Mark. He was in his full
Arterian armor. It caught the powerful lights in the room and
glistened.