Adrik (Titans #1)

Chapter 23

Standing in the shadows outside command, Ember listened as Adrik addressed the Renx captain. Adrik’s voice was low and calm. She knew it belied the urgency of the rest of the Titan crew. She could imagine them working feverishly around Adrik. Lots of electronic noises were happening, and booted feet were rapidly shuffling. She didn’t need to witness their urgency to feel it. It hung heavily on the ship, nearly tangible.

Turning to eye the empty corridor as Adrik spoke some strange language with the Renx Commander, Ember considered returning to the med bay. At least she’d see her sisters before their fate was sealed. The thought of reuniting with them had her heart contracting painfully. It’d been days since she’d seen Vashti and Nova. Desperately, she wanted to see them, hug them, give them a heads up, and warn them about their potential doom. But she also wanted to wait. She needed to know what Adrik’s plan would be. Obaida and Pitch had seemed reluctant to let Kyan and Nova be sold. She was praying Adrik felt the same about her. She’d pleaded her case to him and begged, but Adrik had a duty to his men and his ship. He owed the women nothing.

On the bridge, Adrik loosed a vicious-sounding growl that drew her attention back to him. She listened intently as he briefed his crew. “They wish to board the vessel. I’m certain they don’t believe my denial about the females.”

“No!” one of the Titans raged, “They can’t have them!”

That had relief and gratitude flooding Ember’s insides.

“Kyan is too ill to be moved,” Obaida argued.

Pitch tagged on, “Nova is too young, too fragile!”

“Enough!” Adrik roared. “I understand all of this. And I don’t wish to relinquish any of the females either. But right now, the Renx are aware that we are out-gunned and too far from any belts or Cesca Sol to make any real attempt at a run. They can attempt to board us, and we can attempt to stop them, but it will most likely end with each of our lives terminated. Then where will the women be? We’d be dead, our ship and our females free for the taking.”

The way Adrik said ‘our females’ had hope flitting to life in Ember’s chest.

“What do we do?” Pitch asked.

Adrik’s tone was harsh, “Obaida, was there a tracker in Kyan?”

Obaida sounded sad as he admitted, “Yes, Commander. I removed and destroyed it but retained some raw material for further study. It’s a technology I’ve never seen before, organic, but not. That’s why it didn’t show on our scans.”

“So, we assume the Renx were the ones who held the females before the Ziefers?” Kaze postulated. “If the Renx had the females in their custody long enough to implant trackers, why not just keep them?”

“Because it wasn’t the Renx who implanted Kyan,” Adrik answered. “They would never have let the females go. The tracker belongs to someone else. Someone I’m sure the Renx encountered and most likely terminated. Tracker intel would be in a ship's data log. The Renx are notorious for overtaking smaller or weaker vessels, killing all aboard, and keeping the ships. They would have discovered the live trackers and any info about who or what was being tracked.”

“They know we have the females,” Obaida supplied gruffly.

“Wrong.” Adrik countered, “They know we have one female.”

Pitch cut in, “But Tyrate said their initial contact addressed females . More than one.”

“They did,” Adrik agreed. “But during the discussion I just had with Theb, the Renx commander, he was trolling for a number. He assumes there are more than one, but he’s not certain.”

“So,” Kaze breathed heavily. “Worst case scenario, we must give up one female to spare the others.”

The bridge fell silent, and Ember’s belly dropped. “No!” she breathed out quietly. “No, no, no.”

An enraged-sounding Obaida broke the silence on the bridge. “You want to give them Kyan, don’t you?”

Pitch was the one to respond, “It makes sense, Obaida. If she’s going to die anyway…”

His statement was cut off as what sounded like a tussle ensued.

“She’s not going to die!” Obaida roared.

“Enough!” Adrik boomed. “Enough,” he repeated more calmly. “Giving up a female is our very last option. Understood?”

There were a few grunts before Adrik continued, “The Renx will be docking shortly. We need to get to Level Bay, but first, we lock down command and secure our bridge. Tyrate, set command detonation linked to the last life signature for the Titans on this vessel. If the Renx board and attack, if we die in battle, then destroying the vessel with the females aboard would be best for them.”

Now, a new fear flooded Ember’s veins. There was the threat of these Renx boarding and attacking outright. And if they didn’t, they’d expect to leave the Titan’s vessel with at least one female. The Renx leaving with one female and doing so peacefully sounded like the best they could hope for, and the realization was chilling. Glancing down the corridor again, Ember thought about what Obaida said. That Adrik would relinquish Kyan because she was so sick, already near death. But Ember knew that now that Obaida had removed the tracker from Kyan, she’d recover. There was no doubt in Ember’s mind that the tracker had made Kyan ill. And the thought of Kyan recovering in the captivity of another enemy had Ember shaking her head. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.

Ember knew what had to be done. And she hated it. But, for the sake of Kyan, of all her sisters, for the sake of the Titans…for the sake of Adrik , it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. There was also the bonus that Adrik would be forced to believe her. If she sacrificed herself, he’d know beyond doubt that she, Vashti, Kyan, and Nova were innocent of any subterfuge. It’d be undeniable. It’d aid her sisters in their lives among the Titans.

An overwhelming sadness overcame her as she made up her mind. Surprisingly, it wasn’t just because she wouldn’t see her sisters again nor because she’d most likely be dead by tomorrow. It was the fact that her entire life, she’d merely endured her pointless existence. There’d always been this strange disconnect between her and everyone else. She’d never been na?ve enough to hope for more than her station could offer, but she’d known. She’d known down to her marrow that she was different. She wasn’t like everyone else, not even her sisters. Even after all the time she’d spent with them, there was a camaraderie but not the deep-seated kinship she’d longed for…that she’d tried to establish. For the longest time, she’d blamed herself for that. She’d blamed her unwillingness to let anyone get close, lest she lose them and torture herself needlessly. Needlessly and selfishly. But she’d always wanted that connection. She’d yearned for it, but it had never truly formed. Eventually, she’d deemed herself incapable of such bonds, but finally, after all this time, she realized that wasn’t it. It wasn’t until she met Adrik that she realized that the seemingly out-of-reach companionship that she’d thought non-existent was, in fact, real. She felt it when she was near him. Something about him sparked something in her. They were two beings with the burden of authority and obligation thrust upon them. Her life had been day after day of simply trudging ever forward, a mere placation of duty, and from what Obaida had said about Adrik’s upbringing and lack of hope for ever acquiring a mate, it sounded like Adrik’s life had been similar. Perhaps that was why his mere presence incited excitement and longing in Ember. He felt like someone she could anchor herself to. He felt like someone she finally wanted to anchor herself to. But now, fate was once again ripping away her chance at happiness.

Sliding away from the bridge, she descended the silent corridor. Sucking back stinging tears at the unfairness of life, she gritted out quietly, “Tyrate, how long until the Renx arrive, in terms I can understand, please?”

The robotic voice responded immediately, “Gauged on their current rate of speed and ours, approximately thirty-seven minutes, forty-nine seconds.”

Great, Ember winced inwardly. Just a little over half an hour of freedom.