Chapter Fifteen

“This is taking too long!” Nuar strode across the common room and struck the wall as hard as he could. Light rippled out from the impact, a beautiful iridescent sheen that did nothing to comfort him.

“Our scans aren’t detecting anything,” Bron said. “Are you sure she’s here?”

“Yes,” Nuar said. “I know she’s close. I can feel her. I just can’t tell exactly where.”

He looked at the holodisplay again. Gridlines divided the nearby space into quadrants that they had been searching for what felt like hours. Nothing had turned up.

Sometimes, Nuar felt as though he could sense Lian moving, but whenever Rom managed to get the Arrow to the new site they would find nothing.

“Whoever took her had to have been in a small ship to leave Earth undetected by the Vegans,” Lar said.

Bron shrugged. “That assumes the Vegans can see through whatever cloak they’re using.”

If the Vegans couldn’t see through this cloak… Nuar couldn’t think of the ramifications of that. It would drive him insane.

His spine plates had been sticking straight out from his back, giving off waves of vibration in an irritating hum since they’d passed Mars. He’d torn the flimsy Earth shirt from his chest after it split from the pressure.

“We can’t cover enough area to box him in,” Bron said. “Even with our fighters, we would need at least two other vessels like the Arrow to have a chance at catching him.”

Lar brought up a data feed. “The nearest Cygnian ships are two Earth days away through blue space transit.”

“Two days?” Nuar shouted.

“Calm yourself,” Lar said. “You’ve been able to track her this far. We won’t lose our quarry.”

“What if their ship can drop into blue space?” Nuar asked. “We have no idea what the range of my bond with Lian is. We have to act quickly before we lose her forever.”

“We won’t lose her,” Bron said. “Cygnians don’t fail.”

“This isn’t a battle we can force our way through,” Nuar yelled.

“What do you suggest?” Lar asked.

“We could call the Reckoning,” Nuar said.

“You would ask Sadirians for help?” Bron snorted dismissively.

“I would ask anyone for help.” Nuar turned to Kral. “You came to Earth looking for your soulmate. Don’t let me lose mine. Please.”

Kral shook his head. “Cygnians do not ask other sentients for help. We help each other. It’s always been enough.”

“And our people are dying out,” Nuar said. “At the current rate of reproduction, we have only a few generations before we’ll go extinct.”

“Even if we find soulmates among Earthlings, that won’t change anything,” Bron said. “We’re not biologically compatible.”

Nuar turned to him. “Lian gives me hope. We can find a way to have children together. Or adopt and teach our children of Cygnian ways. At least our culture won’t die with us.”

“We walk a fine line here,” Kral said. “My father has not authorized our presence in the Sol system.”

“As if his approval has ever stopped you from doing what you want,” Nuar said.

Kral held up a hand to silence him. “The stakes have never been so high. Not for us as a prism or as individual Cygnian warriors. Not for our people.”

“Then think of our people,” Nuar said. “Think of me. Think of the future for us all. I’m telling you, our future lies with Earth.”

Kral held Nuar’s gaze, his orange eyes gleaming. He looked back at the holodisplay—at the blank grids and the vast emptiness of space beyond.

“Lar,” Kral said. “Connect me to Azure.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lar said.

“Do it,” Kral snapped.

“The Vegans have made it clear that their priority is Earth,” Nuar said. “What if they won’t help us?”

“An Earthling has been taken.” Kral nodded. “They’ll help.”

A light flickered in the common room. Azure appeared. The holodisplay of the Vegan made it look as if she was on the ship with them.

“Kral,” Azure said. “You have much to explain.”

Kral arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware that I had to tell you whenever I wished to leave Earth.”

Azure held up a hand, gesturing to someone they couldn’t see in the projection field. She must have another communication feed going.

“Your departure coincided with some disturbing disappearances.” The sibilance of her voice grew more pronounced.

“We know Lian is missing,” Nuar said. “Who else is gone? They must be the ones who took her.”

“A male named Gary Simms can not be located,” Azure said.

“Gary.” Nuar’s claws extended fully. He would rip out Gary’s heart and crush it beneath his feet.

“We had hoped perhaps Gary and Lian were with you,” Azure said.

“We left the planet in pursuit,” Kral said. “We’ve been tracking Lian, but can’t pinpoint her location.”

“That is most unfortunate,” Azure said. “She was not the only one taken.”

“Who else?” Kral asked.

A crackling mass of light appeared—someone forcing their way into the connection. The holodisplay glitched a few times before coalescing into a huge white form that seemed to fill half the common room.

“Craig?” Nuar said.

The Lyrian’s fur was standing out from his body in sharp points, making him look twice as big. He also had pulled himself to his full height—which Nuar corrected to at least eight feet. Craig’s jaw had shifted forward, his serrated teeth prominently displayed.

“Lian was watching Ellie when she was taken,” Craig said, his voice so distorted Nuar could hardly understand him. But when he parsed through the words, both his hearts beat even more urgently.

“The nestling?” Nuar said.

Kral stepped forward. “We had no idea.”

Craig stalked to Kral, towering over him. “If I find that you are lying, Cygnian, I will rip you into tiny pieces, run them through my ship’s power core, and then feed your remains to Barbara.”

“This bickering and posturing does nothing to return our lost loved ones,” Azure said. She turned to Nuar. “How are you tracking Lian?”

Before Nuar could respond, Lar said, “Nuar gave her his wristbands.”

It was true, but that wasn’t how they were tracking Lian. Somehow, Gary was blocking the signal from the Cygnian tech. If she hadn’t bonded with Nuar as his soulmate, there would be no way for them to track her.

The thought made Nuar sick with dread. Though she was angry at how quickly they had bonded, Nuar would be forever grateful for it.

“Send them all of our data,” Kral said.

Lar stared at him instead of immediately complying. Nuar didn’t miss the challenge in Lar’s gaze.

“The data,” Kral yelled.

With a low growl, Lar turned back to the communications station and began to work. Nuar was certain he’d be leaving out any mention of the soulmate bond.

“We will arrive in five minutes,” Azure said, walking through Craig’s holoprojection and disrupting the field. Craig reappeared in his original spot, still glowering at everyone.

“Five?” Bron said. “That’s an impressive speed for intra-solar transit.”

“We left Earth not long after you did,” Azure said. “Though originally, we set out to stop Craig and Barbara from destroying your ship.”

“We will arrive in three minutes,” Craig said, peeling his lips further away from his teeth.

Azure snapped her fingers and two males flickered into the images crowding the room. One of them was tall, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and a strangely blank expression. Nuar recognized him as Marq, commander of the Reckoning.

Nuar had never thought he’d be grateful to see a Sadirian. He would take any help he could get.

The other man, Nuar didn’t recognize. He was a little over six-feet tall, had short dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. Something about his eyes unnerved Nuar, and he found himself becoming even more alert.

“Zemanni,” Azure said. “Report.”

“My ship isn’t detecting any vessels in the area aside from the Arrow,” he said. “But there’s an interesting disruption in the transient substrate of this sector of space.”

“Transient… What?” Lar asked.

Zemanni smirked at him. “Don’t worry, Cygnian. We’ll find something for you to hit any moment now.”

Lar snarled and took a step toward the hologram. Kral grabbed his elbow and held him back.

“Who do you think you are?” Lar said.

“I’m the person who’s been right on your back for the last half hour with none of you noticing,” Zemanni said. “I’m the guy who’s already here.”

Not many ships had stealth fields the Cygnians couldn’t see through. Lyrians were one.

Scorpiians were another.

“I heard rumors the Department of Homeworld Security was working with a Scorpiian,” Kral said.

“You didn’t think they were true?” Zemanni asked.

“I didn’t think they were naive enough to risk it,” Kral said.

“Enough.” Azure stepped between them. “Zemanni has proven he will assist us. You have not.”

“We will,” Nuar said. He looked to Kral and repeated, “We will.”

Kral nodded. “You have our cooperation.”

“Well, then,” Azure said. “Our priority is the retrieval of the missing sentients. If you would reactivate your holodisplay of this sector.”

Bron input the command, and an additional holodisplay formed, showing the area they were searching.

“I see from the data you have sent us that you’ve narrowed the field of possibility to this section.” Azure walked closer to the display and held up her small hands to show the area.

“If they even know what they’re talking about,” Zemanni said.

Azure cocked her head to the side and blinked her golden eyes at him. “You have a concern?”

“I’ve been following them since they reached Mars’s orbit,” Zemanni said. “Their path has been erratic. They’ve altered course at least three dozen times.”

But only because Gary had altered his.

Every time their quarry changed his direction, they had changed theirs to follow. Though they could find his general area, they had no way to box him in—even with their personal fighters. Shards were designed to destroy, not take prisoners.

“Even so, they have been able to lead us to an area where you are detecting an anomaly,” Azure said.

Zemanni shrugged.

Azure turned back to them. “Zemanni’s point bears scrutiny. How have you been able to track this vessel when not even our Vegan sensors can see through it?”

Kral’s back stiffened. Nuar could see his spine plates begin to rise beneath his shirt.

Before Nuar could intervene, Marq spoke up.

“The Cygnians are not part of our alliance,” Marq said. “We have no right to ask them to divulge information that might put their people at risk.”

The Sadirian’s voice had the flat cadence of a soldier who had long had their emotions suppressed. Nuar actually felt a surge of sympathy for the man.

“Are we not allies in this mission?” Azure said, turning to Marq.

“We are working toward the same purpose,” Marq said. “There’s a difference. And the Cygnians have little at stake here. We owe them our gratitude for bringing us this far. They owe us nothing.”

It was hard to believe a Sadirian would say such a thing on anyone else’s behalf. It was also hard to believe he could be so wrong.

For Nuar, everything was at stake. And even if they didn’t realize it yet, everything was on the line for the other warriors as well. For all of their people.

If they messed this up, Cygnians faced the chance of being banned from the Sol system. Banned from Earth. Nuar was sure that if that happened, his people’s doom would be sealed.

“To find the path to a new future, there must often be a leap of faith,” Nuar said. He was speaking as much to Kral and the rest of the prism as the sentients being projected into the room. “Perhaps this partnership will lay the foundation for an alliance in the future.”

“Nuar,” Lar snapped.

Kral held up a hand to silence the other warrior.

“Nuar’s words are sound,” Kral said. “I can’t promise that my mother will sanction an official alliance, but I can promise that I and my prism will do everything in our power to return Lian and the nestling safely to their families.”

Azure regarded him for a few moments, then nodded.

“Very well,” she said. “We shall place our faith in you.” She narrowed her eyes at Kral. “Do not disappoint us.”