I’d failed. My unit had failed.
Not only had we failed, we’d led the Hive Scouts right back to the base where we’d been stationed. I’d had long hours in that cell to think, and the only conclusion was that the Hive had followed us back to the underground base, that we were responsible for the deaths of the coalition warriors who’d died defending the base. That I was responsible for the suffering of those still underground.
My team of Elite Hunters.
Somehow, the Hive had tracked us. Predator became prey. And we were taken down.
My only chance to atone for my failures was to save those who were left and then remove that blue Nexus bastard’s head from his body.
“Let’s focus on the mission.” Vice Admiral Niobe’s suggestion was a command and everyone in the room felt the authority in her voice. They sat straighter, smiles fading.
My cock hardened and I had to blink to focus on her words instead of her soft, feminine scent floating in the room.
“The transport system on Latiri 4 is under my control,” she said. “I will transport in with the first wave of Atlan Warlords—led by Warlord Zan—and coordinate the attack from the transport room on Level Three.”
“I don’t understand, Niobe. Why? You should coordinate from here, on the command deck with Commander Karter.” Chloe asked the question and I was grateful. I didn’t understand my mate’s insistence that she be in the first transport.
Niobe shook her head. “The transport system is locked to my DNA. Either I am in the initial transport beam, or no one goes. Once we arrive, the transport room will remain locked down until I give the system my authorization codes.”
“A DNA lock? I didn’t know that was possible.” Captain Seth Mills, Chloe’s mate, sighed the words as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
I’d heard of such a thing, but never seen it used. Until she’d rescued us.
My mate had locked down the transport in such a way that only she could get anyone—literally anyone—in or out. According to what I was hearing, Prime Nial himself would have a hell of a time trying to override her lockout.
“Damn, girl. That’s badass.”
Erica, Lady Karter, smiled at Chloe’s words, but said nothing. I wished I could see Niobe’s face. Was she pleased? Bored? Irritated? Her shoulders were tense, as was the line of her jaw, but that was all I could sense from where I stood behind her chair like a sentinel.
I did not understand Chloe’s reference at all. Niobe’s ass was perfect. Round. Soft. Very, very female. But as my mate did not protest, and Commander Karter’s mate looked pleased with the words, I said nothing. Earth slang was going to be a struggle.
The time alone with Niobe had not been enough. The hours we’d shared were precious to me, but I wanted more. Needed it. She had a past, a history I had barely glimpsed and had yet to understand. Even though she was half Everian, her words, her world, were foreign to me. There was too much about her I did not know or understand, and I needed to know everything.
My hand tightened on Niobe’s shoulder and she absently reached up to entwine her fingers with mine. That was all I needed to pull me back to the present, to the battle plans. To her.
“Once the Warlords give me the signal, I’ll transport in the Prillon warriors,” she said, her hand returning to her lap. And the vice admiral was back. “The aerial assault should provide the distraction we need to draw their attention and the bulk of their fighters to the upper levels. The ReCon teams will be responsible for capturing the elevators and holding them in the event we need an alternate exit.”
“We’ll take them, Vice Admiral. I promise you that,” Captain Mills assured her, and I believed him. He was an experienced warrior, a tough fighter, and everyone on the Karter respected the hell out of him. I’d been around here long enough to know that.
“Good.” Niobe nodded at him, her finger pointing to the schematic of Level Three. “Meanwhile, I’ll transport in directly to Level Three with the Atlans. Zan will lead a group of warriors to the prison cells. The doctor has equipped us with knock-out gas. Since we don’t know what condition the prisoners will be in, we’ll anesthetize them all, slap transport beacons on them while they’re sti
ll unconscious, and transport them directly to The Colony.”
“Piece of cake.” Commander Chloe Phan spread her small hand wide on the translucent surface of the table, staring at the graphics on display beneath.
I searched my memory for the word, sure my NPU, the Neural Processing Unit every member of the Coalition had implanted at birth, had malfunctioned. Cake was a baked food on Earth. What did baking human food have to do with this mission?
“Where are we going to get that many transport beacons?” Prax asked. The Prillon had been one of the lucky ones, on Latiri 4 for less than a minute, and that time only in the transport room. He hadn’t been integrated or tortured, but he had known what was coming. He wanted to save as many fellow fighters as he could. “The Fleet hordes them like precious gems.”
My mate stirred in her chair. “Leave that to me. I’ve contacted Helion at I.C.H.Q. and he assures me the necessary beacons will arrive on the Karter within the hour.” The new Prillon commander, Zeus, had crossed his arms and was scowling at everyone, including my mate. His face was lined with cuts, one large one that had yet to heal.
I’d heard of the Prillon custom of fighting in the arena, and that they chose not to use ReGen pods to heal, instead wearing the marks of battle like badges of honor, proof that they’d earned their place in the Prillon chain of command. I thought the idea interesting, but stupid. The fight? Fuck, yes. I loved to fight. But I had no problem using a ReGen wand to heal. I didn’t want anything to distract me from focusing on my mate’s body instead of my own.
I didn’t like him. He seemed like an ass. A hard-nosed, uptight, Prillon asshole.
My mate cleared her throat. “In regards to the Nexus, he is to be taken alive and brought to me. Under no circumstances is he to be injured. Find him and bring him to me. That’s an order. Are we clear?”
Everyone at the table nodded, but I saw the anger in Zan’s gaze, knew it was mirrored in my own. I understood orders. I respected the chain of command, even though, technically, I was not part of the Coalition Fleet—more like a hired contractor. But what she was asking? Impossible. The Nexus had to die.