Striker (23 page)

"Ho! Wait! I need to retrieve the fuel cells and the starter circuitry!" Otho scampered over the top of the shuttle before swinging with one arm through the open doorway, chirping and chittering in his enthusiasm.

Zeus checked the time, running a list of things through his head that needed to be accomplished, and which communications to send. He strode across the bay, issuing orders as he went, trailed by Sohm'lan and his Monticore guards.

Dargon dozed, exhausted but unable to achieve real sleep, afraid he would move too much and disrupt the kit's path to his pouch. Alpha slept deeply. That was to be expected, but he anxiously waited for Alpha to wake.

Even though he had only assisted Alpha with the births, Dargon's nerves seemed overly sensitive and frayed, especially around the areas where Alpha punctured his neck, still attached and drawing extra nutrients from him. He thought the phantom pains he felt were Alpha's as well. If so, then maybe it was a good thing Alpha was unconscious.

"How much time has passed?"

Mayra looked up from her handheld vid screen. "Roughly two hours since Zeus left."

He lifted his head to peer at the kits, who rested against each other. One was always touching the other in one way or another. They had moved a small distance down his chest. Dargon calculated how much further the twins needed to travel before they reached his pouch. He had never disliked his height before then.

He never believed he would settle down and be a father. He had been too busy, too caught up in off-world activity. He never dreamed he would become domesticated. Watching the kits struggle and crawl together, their hairless bodies and translucent skin giving a clear picture of how fragile his kits were. A wave of strong protectiveness clawed at him, knowing how dangerous their situation was, but unable to do anything about it.

The kits seemed to be in tune with his rising emotions. They stopped their slow trek to curl around each other as if they expected immediate danger. Dargon worked to push away the worry and fear, to be calm and reassured once again. The kits immediately responded and continued their journey.

Hadon came through the door carrying another large crate. He brought in all sort of items: some he stored on the walkway above, others he stacked next to the doorway. Each time he entered, he shared news of the activities beyond the walls.

"You have not told me what you are doing here, or explained why you just brought a blowtorch into my quarters, Hadon." Dargon did not mind in the beginning, relieved to receive updates on Zeus and what went on outside. Dargon kept in communication with Abechan and was aware of how bleak the odds were for backup arriving before the Terren and the V'Saar.

"I am ensuring the cabin has enough supplies for forty-eight hours. Then, before the vermin get here, I will lock us in. Amlyn, Mayra, you, and I will stay until the kits are safe in your pouch. Then I will lead us out and we will make our way to the capitol, or if we are lucky, a shuttle will be sent for us."

"Wait. What?" What had just happened?

Zeus appeared in the open doorway. "With the other Terren ship crashing on the far side of Haven and the lack of ground troops, I cannot count on reinforcements coming in time."

Zeus gave Hadon a certain look, prompting Hadon to step out into the hall with the Monticore. Gesturing to Mayra, she followed Hadon out of the room. Pressing a button on the control panel, Zeus closed the door behind them.

"We will route communications to your handheld. I have already recalibrated life support and the shields. Your Monticore guard has been increased. They will lock this ship up tight and wait until we overcome the V'Saar and Terren invaders, or until you are able to travel and summon a shuttle to pick you up. Hadon will secure you here with the Monticore outside the cabin. I have done all I can do to keep our family safe."

Dargon wanted to argue, to rage at Zeus for placing himself in harm's way. He had fought the V'Saar before. He knew the devastation the damned bugs left on the field of battle. According to Abechan, a large force headed their way. Dargon wanted to argue with Zeus to bring everyone into the ship, for them to wait out the chaos together. But he knew Zeus would not do that. The Fal'Amoric were now fleeing through the mountains and any diversion Zeus caused would mean many lives saved. If he had been in Zeus’s place, he would have made the same call.

And yet, he wanted to demand Zeus stay, to remain by their side until all danger passed. He could not fathom the possibility of Zeus being wrenched from him and Alpha so soon after they found him. It was not fair!

A barely audible noise brought Dargon back to himself. On his chest, the twins continued the soft mewling. Again he pulled together the tatters of his overwrought emotions and rolled them into a ball, locking them away.

Zeus crossed the room quickly and knelt beside the bed. "What is wrong? Should I call Mayra back in?" he asked, his voice tinged with a note of fear.

"No, they are reacting to my emotions."

"Is that common?"

"For the first year, it is. They will be keyed to me, able to respond to potential danger without a sound from me."

Zeus’s eyes turned soft and liquid the longer he stared at the kits, his voice thick with emotion when he whispered, "They do not have hair."

Dargon cleared his suddenly tight throat. "All kits are born hairless. It will begin to grow around the third month."

Dargon listened as Zeus whispered to the kits, his voice soft, but rough. The twins stopped mewing at the sound. Dargon thought Zeus spoke to them in some form of Mar'Sani, though his translator did not seem able to convert the words for him. The cadence reminded Dargon of what he would find in a poem or maybe a song filled with hisses, clicks, and other guttural noises. Their eyes would not open for some time, but Zeus’s voice held their attention. What was he telling their sons? The twins were settled when Zeus finished, both heads turned toward their parent.

Zeus met Dargon's gaze, contentment in those silver eyes. They both looked back at the kits when Zeus said, "Meme sang the soft nursery rhymes about peace and love and happiness to us when we were young. My father sang of warriors and honor and bravery. I sang a part of what I remembered. The words are in the old tongue, used only for prayers and poems nowadays. It translates to something like:  'You are a seed sown from the past. You are the unbroken link and you will never be lost.'" Zeus blushed, his cheeks turning crimson.

"It is beautiful." Dargon hurried to reassure his lover. The song, even untranslated, had a certain beauty to it.

"The lines are a small part of a war chant unused for several centuries. I have been trying to recall the words because I will be responsible for leading the Mar'Sani in reciting the poem before we go into battle. The whole piece is not suitable for them to hear for another couple of years yet."

Zeus’s expression became grave as he turned his attention back to Dargon. "I will do everything in my power to come back to you and Alpha. But if something were to happen, would you consider raising the kits on Atlainticia? Allow them to know me through my family?"

Dargon clamped his lips down on the demand Zeus stay with them. His eyes stung and his vision swam, Zeus’s figure wavering as Dargon swallowed his selfish pleas. "We will raise the kits on your homeworld."

An expression of relief colored Zeus’s features, his shoulders squared, his spine straightened. Dargon accepted Zeus’s tender kiss. When Zeus withdrew, a single tear dropped onto his cheek.

Hastily, Zeus wiped at his eyes. "I need to get ready."

He could not take his eyes off of Zeus as he shed his clothes, revealing a hard, ropey body and smooth, silky skin. He bit back a whimper when Zeus disappeared into the lavatory. The edge of the doorway was still scorched from the bite of the blowtorch.

He heard the sonic shower engage. Dargon grinned at the memory of how many times Zeus had complained about the cleansing gel cycle, about how happy he would be to take a bath in water and not be buffed to death by the sonic pressure.

When Zeus did not immediately come out after his lavatory, Dargon grew curious. He listened hard only to hear repeated snipping noises he could not place. Before his patience ran out, Zeus stepped back into the main cabin.

Dargon's breath caught in his throat as he stared in shock. "Your hair!"

Zeus ran his palm over the close cut, cheeks pinking. "Even tied up it, will get in the way or become caught on something or by someone."

He did not know what to say. He loved Zeus’s hair, how silky if felt against him, how Zeus’s eyes sparked with desire when Dargon wrapped his fingers in it and tugged. Zeus grabbed the bag he had dropped at the door then crossed the room to sit in the chair next to the bed. What Zeus grasped in his other hand held Dargon's attention.

"Are those ... ?" He slid his fingertips over the back of Zeus’s closed fist.

Turning his palm up, Zeus uncurled his fingers to reveal his side locks, still entwined with the polished stones and tied off at both ends.

"I thought you and Alpha would want to hold on to these for me. When this is all over, maybe we can take them to a jeweler to have them create earrings for my ears, like yours? And if I do not make it, then the kits will have something of mine."

With care, Dargon lifted the two long side locks from Zeus’s palms. Both ends had been meticulously secured so the dark strands would not unravel. "We will safeguard them for you."

Zeus swore softly under his breath. "Running out of time." He glanced at Dargon. "I must get ready." He paused as if he would add more, but shook his head before leaning down and brushing his lips against Dargon's. Zeus was the first to kiss him, to show him the delights of the meeting of mouths. Every time Zeus pressed his lips to Dargon's skin, it was a treasure he stowed away, and now he feared these would be the last. He attempted to commit the feel, the taste, the brush of breath and tongue to memory. It was not fair. Since meeting Zeus, obstacles met them at every turn, as if the universe conspired  to steal Zeus away from them. The humans. The V'Saar. The Qrxzl. How many more trials would they have to overcome before they were allowed to live in peace? Would today be the day that Zeus walked out the door, never to return? Dargon refused to dwell on it, or otherwise he would be tempted to give in to despair.

Zeus rifled through the large, oblong bag, pulling free a pair of black pants with a dark green, iridescent sheen. "Sohm'lan said the Monticore had donated their spare armor to make this warrior's set. If anything comes of this trip, besides finding you and Alpha, I am more aware of their acceptance now. All along, I worried about the Noble Houses when I should have been listening to the people. The Monticore do not go through this kind of trouble for those they regard with disrespect or who lack honor."

Slipping his feet into the pant legs, Zeus stood and pulled on the trousers. Dagon knew the Monticore used skins from Atlainticia's deadliest snake, the Gerrho'Sauride—creature commonly called a striker—that lived in the Black Sands Desert. According to rumor, some of the Monticore had begun to call Zeus "The Striker" in private, but he could get neither a denial nor confirmation from those he questioned.

Once Zeus was dressed, he sat back in the chair and used the side table to roll out a kit of dark inks and tiny brushes. He set up and lit two candles, speaking in a low monotone in what Dargon had come to know as the ancient language of Poseidon.

As he watched, Alpha woke, groggy but well-rested. For the first time in hours, Alpha's thoughts were coherent and not tinged with pain. He opened his mind and shared his memories, knowing that was the quickest and easiest way to relay what had happened. Through Dargon's body, Alpha assessed the kits, finding them healthy and strong. He released a long slow breath. That was one less worry.

"How do you feel? Mayra told me the split in your skin had healed and closed completely, but I needed to make sure."

"Your body gave me the nutrients I needed to heal. I could do with more rest, but for now I am well. Be prepared, I am disengaging from you. You will bleed, but it will be minimal."

Dargon held still while Alpha removed the small needle-like protrusions and resituated himself about Dargon's neck in his customary position.

"What is he doing?"
Alpha asked after a moment of silence.

"He is preparing for war in the way of his people." Dargon glanced over to their singing lover, who used the small brushes to paint swirls, lines, and dots on his face and chin. The way the lines flowed, they created a fierce mask that would give anyone pause and elicit fear.

"His hair,"
Alpha lamented softly. The corner of Dargon's mouth kicked up. They were of the same mind.

They did not talk much, wishing to keep from disturbing Zeus as he concentrated. With the war mask completed, Zeus repacked the ink and brushes, rolling the case and secured it in his travel bag.

"Take me with you."

Zeus gave a start. Dargon realized Zeus had been so involved in his ritual that he had not felt Alpha wake up.

"Alpha?" Zeus left the chair, crossing quickly, looking over Alpha's form.

"No." Dargon replied to Alpha's request, which he should have anticipated. The most hated and despised enemy of the Alpha-Zetamite were headed in their direction. Just as with Dargon, it was not in Alpha's character to sit on the sidelines and allow others to go to battle.

"Dargon, you know I must. Do not be angry."

"If you go with Zeus, I could lose not only our Marked, but you as well. How am I supposed to live without either of you? One would have been hard enough; the both of you would ensure I would be a dead man walking. Do not do this to me. I am not strong enough to survive without the two of you."

He closed his eyes to the pain and grief on Zeus’s face, the painted mask magnifying and giving a dark edge to Zeus’s emotions. Tears he had held back all day slipped free, burning hot trails down the side of his face. Why could the kits not wait a couple more hours to be born? Why had the Terrens been lucky enough to slip by Valespia's shields? Why had the Terrens dealt with the V'Saar? What was so important about the Bespoken to have caused a hunt spanning more than two decades, leading to the battle being waged in the skies above them?