Pursued by Presley Hall
Zatir
As I flytoward the docking bay, I activate the comms on the ship to let them know I’m coming in.
I couldn’t help but take a spin over the city, getting my first real look at Jocia in a long time. It feels like ages since I’ve been home, and it has been. Years, in fact. I know that everyone here must have given me up for dead long ago.
“Zatir here, requesting permission to land,” I say over the comms.
There’s a moment of stunned silence before the Kalixian on the other end finally speaks, his voice making it clear just how shocked he is.
“Can I verify your ship code?” he asks.
I tell him, knowing they’ll need to verify that I really am who I’m identifying myself as. All they know of me and my squadron now is that we were attacked and overpowered by Orkun ships a few years ago, during a mission. They would have gotten the news that everyone was wiped out by the attack, the ships blown apart and every warrior lost. And I haven’t been able to contact them to tell them otherwise.
The comms unit crackles a moment later, and I hear a familiar voice come over the line.
“Commander Tordax here,” the voice says sharply. “Your code checks out, but I want to verify again. You’re claiming to be the Alpha Force warrior Zatir, returning home? We were given intelligence that everyone on your mission was killed by Orkun forces.”
A stab of pain pierces my heart. It’s hard to hear it said out loud, blunt and matter-of-fact like that, as if it’s old history. For them, with so many battles between now and then, I suppose it is. But to me, it still feels as if it was yesterday. But I push the emotions down, keeping my voice cool and casual as I answer.
“Well, nearly everyone died in that attack, Commander,” I say as lightly as I can. “But by the grace of the gods, I survived.”
“It’s been three years, Zatir. What happened that you’ve been gone for so long?” Tordax doesn’t sound suspicious now, just concerned. I suppose I can understand that. No one wants a member of their army missing in action for years.
“I’ve been trying to return since then, Commander,” I tell him, leaning back in my captain’s seat. “But along the way, I kept finding opportunities to go up against the Orkun and do damage to the deshing empire they’ve tried to create in this galaxy. And I couldn’t very well turn that down, now could I? I’ve been sabotaging their allies and skirmishing along their supply lines the whole way home. Took me three years, but I did some considerable damage. And now that you’ve finally crippled them for good, well, I supposed it was time to return home.”
I keep a light-hearted tone as I say the last bit, wanting Tordax to know I’m joking, at least about them finally having taken out the main Orkun base. I was grateful beyond words when I got word of that. I’ve missed Kalix deeply.
“Well, then, welcome home, Zatir.” There’s a touch of humor in Tordax’s deep voice, but I can hear the relief in it as well. He follows up with directions on where to land in the docking bay, then finishes with instructions to come to the palace as soon as I’ve landed. “King Khrelan will want to see you,” he informs me.
I glance at the comms unit curiously as Tordax signs off.
King Khrelan?
When I left, Khrelan was still a prince, since he was unmated—and with the death of our women at the hands of the Orkun, he was expected to always remain so.
“What’s changed, I wonder?” I mutter to myself as I bring the ship down, setting it in the space that Tordax directed me to.
When I step off onto the docking bay, I tilt my chin up, breathing in the fresh air of Kalix for the first time in over three years—and then open my eyes to see two of the Kalixian dock workers staring at my ship, confusion written plainly in their faces.
Ah. Of course.
I know what my ship looks like. Over the years, I’ve repaired her largely on my own, making modifications to make her faster and more nimble, better at getting in and out of skirmishes quickly. She looks more like a pirate craft than a Kalixian war ship now, old and patched together, some places more worse for wear than others. But I’m very attached to her, and I glare at the two men as fiercely as I can.
“Don’t look at her like that. You’ll hurt her feelings.” I flip them each a token. “And make sure no one else does, either.”
I feel their gazes on me as I stride away, and I sigh. I’ve never been one to mind attention, but as a lost Kalixian presumed dead and now returned, I expect that I’m about to get more of it than I’d like. It just reminds me of the many warriors who ought to be disembarking their own ships alongside me right now.
But they’re not here. And they never will be.
I’m not sure why I was the sole survivor of the Orkun attack. Why the gods allowed me to live when so many others died. But I’ve tried to make my life worth it over the past few years.
When I arrive at the palace, I’m immediately escorted to the throne room. Tordax must have contacted Khrelan soon after speaking with me, and the king has clearly left instructions, because there are two guards waiting for me at the doors who quickly direct me down to the grand hall. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here, but the familiarity of it still warms me, just like everything else I’ve passed in the city.
It’s good to be home.
The doors open, and I step into the throne room. As I walk down the long, dark carpet inlaid with gold, I’m surprised to see someone sitting beside Khrelan in a slightly shorter throne. My shock is multiplied when I get closer and realize that the female sitting next to him is a Terran woman. Questions race through my mind even as I drop down on one knee in obeisance.
My surprise must be evident on my face, because Khrelan addresses it almost immediately.
“Welcome home, Zatir,” he says. “I’m interested to hear what you’ve been doing all these years. But first, I want to introduce my queen, Emma.”
“Queen Emma.” I incline my head respectfully, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as startled as I feel.
“A group of Terran women abducted by the Orkun as tribute brides were rescued nearly a year ago,” Khrelan says. “To our surprise, mate bonds began to form between our warriors and these women, beginning on the ship where they were rescued. The first was between a Terran woman named Rose and Commander Tordax. After they returned, my own mate bond revealed itself, and I was at last given my queen.”
It takes only an instant for me to realize what this could mean for our people, and a thrill of happiness runs through me. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that sort of rush of hope, and I’m glad of it. When I left Kalix, it seemed that our species was doomed to die out, all of our females killed by the virus that the Orkun unleashed on us. Now, it seems that we’ve been given a new hope for a future, thanks to these women and the mate bonds that have formed with them.
“I haven’t seen the rest of these Terran women.” I smile at them both, then bow my head to the queen. “But I feel certain you must have been granted the most beautiful one of them all.”
Emma blushes a little at my words, and Khrelan looks over at her, taking her hand. It’s clear from the way that he gazes at her that she is truly his mate. I remember seeing my father look at my mother with that same kind of adoration when I was a child.
“Indeed,” Khrelan says, returning his gaze to me. “And if the gods favor you, perhaps you’ll be granted your own mate.”
“Perhaps.” I nod noncommittally. To be honest, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. I’m just grateful to be back on Kalix again. “The gods have favored me so far, my king. It’s good to be home. And good to hear that the Orkun are closer than ever to complete and utter defeat.”
“I’m sure you’ll hear the tale of how it happened many times,” he says with a laugh. “Tycran and his own mate from among the Terran women were responsible for that.”
I look up sharply, my brows furrowing. “Tycran?”
I remember him as the most dreadfully boring of us all, sworn to never enjoy any bodily pleasure—including women, good food, strong drink, and anything else that might make his existence remotely bearable. The idea of Tycran being mated is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in years. But Khrelan is completely serious.
“Indeed.” A glimmer of humor dances in his blue eyes, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing I am, although he’s too polite and well-mannered to say it out loud. Always the diplomat, our prince—and now our king. “But tell me more about what you’ve been doing these past years, Zatir,” he goes on. “What took you so long to come back home?”
“With the rest of my squadron gone, I intended to return to you at once, my king,” I tell him, inclining my head again respectfully. “But along the way, I met others who were willing to supply me with intelligence that offered me a chance to strike back at the Orkun in a new way, one that only a lone warrior could hope to achieve. I saw the possibility to take out high-value targets, destroy vessels carrying supplies, and slow down their weapons manufacturing. I was able to slip in and out easily, attacking supply runs where I could, and I did some considerable damage to them.” I pause. “I know that I had no official orders to do so. But I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I wanted to make certain that the loss of my men was not in vain.”
I fall silent and wait, wondering if there will be censure from Khrelan for what I’ve done. But instead, he seems pleased.
“It’s good to have you back,” he says warmly. “The queen and I are pleased to welcome you home. You have done well in the fight against the Orkun.” He pauses, a rare smile crossing his face as he looks down at me. “Tomorrow night, we will hold a feast in your honor, to celebrate your return.”
