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“Run through that for me again one more time, Marks. You say you’ve been held captive? By a being that... is part of this planet?”
Strabo leaned her hip against Selena’s lifeboat, her weapon tucked under one arm as she sipped from a mug.
Troopers from the Francis Drake were stowing their powered exoskeletons, and some had already been transported back to their ship. A few were left behind as a security detail, patrolling the perimeter of the landing zone for Selena’s pod.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s all true. His name is Malcolm—that’s what he says I’m to call him. Apparently, his name is unpronounceable for humans, or something.”
“Or... something,” Corporal Richland said, her tone carefully measured.
Selena was grateful for the white blanket they’d given her—it afforded her at least a modicum of modesty—but it was too hot under it. Her sex was seething, and it had only gotten worse as they’d drawn further away from Malcolm, whom she knew still watched them from that mountaintop view.
What was most marked for Selena was how much she was really accepting of the fact that she wasn’t part of the crew anymore. She would miss them all—terribly—especially Lieutenant Strabo, a woman whom she felt she’d developed a kinship with that went beyond camaraderie engendered by months in space on lonely survey missions.
But her body—and her heart—were telling her that more than just her perspective had changed.
Everything had changed.
All that searching, all that striving, all that restless arrogance to get out amongst the stars and prove herself the best goddamned pilot in the UTCS... it didn’t really matter now.
That missing piece... wasn’t missing anymore.
He was up on that mountaintop, watching over her. He was the one who would always protect her, always care for her—and always make her feel like she felt at that very moment.
Wanton.
Feminine.
Treasured.
Desired.
Everything she’d ever need was right here.
It was time to say goodbye—and say hello to her new life.
To be the woman she’d always wanted to be, deep down inside—if only she could solve the mystery of how to let her out.
“I need to go, Lieutenant.”
Dark clouds flitted across Strabo’s gaze for just a moment, then they were gone as fast as they appeared. The lieutenant smiled. “I... okay, where do you think you need to go? Are you ready for us to return to the Bay?”
“No—I need to return to him.”
“To... him.” Richland inclined her head, meeting Selena’s gaze. “You really are serious about this.”
“Of course.”
“I think we’ve heard enough. I’m calling an IV210, per UTCS space directive 9.” Strabo lifted her wrist to her chin. “Lindemann, we’re going to need an infirmary bed ready. Full restraints, and sedation protocol.”
“Aye, Lieutenant,” Lindemann’s voice came back, clearly audible from Strabo’s earpiece.
IV210 was a familiar statute—but Selena couldn’t remember exactly what it referred to. What she did know was that both the LT and Richland were acting... strangely.
Then it came to her—and her blood ran cold.
IV210—Involuntary Quarantine—Mental Instability
She stood, throwing her blanket off, but she was much too late, the movement coming at her from both sides, troopers seizing her by both arms and hauling her to the ground.
“W-what the fuck are you... doing!”
She felt the prick in her arm as Strabo’s voice floated down to her from somewhere under the pile of bodies holding her to the ground.
“Don’t fight, Selena. We’ll get you back to the Bay. You’re not feeling right, and we’re going to get you the help you need, okay? Just try to relax for me.”
“No! You don’t understand!” She twisted against the hands holding her down, but it was useless. The sedative was already taking effect, her legs feeling like they were melting into the ground, her muscles heavy and weak.
“It’s okay... it’s okay,” Strabo said. “You’ll feel a lot better once we’ve got you under observation. It’s gonna be all right.”
“Of course I’m... going to be... all right. Malcolm would never... let anything happen to... me.” Her voice sounded far off, distorted. Her vision had shrunk to a tiny pinhole.
“My God, she’s really far gone,” Richland said, her voice unusually strained.
“It’s okay. Let’s get her home.”
“You don’t... unnerstan!” She tried to enunciate, but even speech was beginning to fail her now. “Youuu...tha... wunn... innnnn... dang... er!”
Then blackness swallowed her up, her last thought the sound of Malcolm’s primal scream of rage echoing in her mind.