“Melissa—”
“No.” She stood, shifting Robbie to her hip, her free hand clenched into a fist. “He kidnaps us, experiments on us, treats us like livestock, and then he’s the one issuing arrest warrants? He’s the one calling you a traitor?”
“I know.”
“We should expose him.” The words tumbled out, fueled by fury. “Right now. Go to the Council, go to the media, go to whoever will listen and tell them exactly what he’s been doing?—”
“And would they believe us?” His voice was gentle but firm. “A disgraced captain and a group of escaped prisoners, making accusations against one of the most respected members of the Council? Without evidence? Without proof?”
“We are the evidence! Look at us!”
“They would say you were volunteers. That I manipulated you.” His tail tightened around her waist. “Naran has spent decades building his reputation, his connections, and his network of favors and debts. We have… nothing. Not yet.”
The rage didn’t fade, but it shifted, tempered by the practical part of her mind that had been both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. He was right. She knew he was right. You couldn’t fight a war without weapons, and right now, they were unarmed.
“Not yet,” she repeated. “That means you have a plan.”
“I have the beginning of one.” He glanced at Sarven. “The other hybrid pairings. The ones Naran mentioned. There has to be documentation somewhere, records of the bonds and of the children. If we can find that proof?—”
“I’ve heard rumors for years,” Sarven said quietly. “Whispers among the merchant crews. Stories of Cire males who disappeared into the outer colonies with alien mates, who had families despite everything the Council told us was impossible.”His skin flushed darker. “I always thought they were just stories. Wishful thinking.”
“They weren’t.” Becsul looked at her and Robbie, and at the other women huddled in the cargo bay. “They were the truth. The Council just didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?” Sarah asked. “Why would they hide something like that? If there’s a chance to save your species?—”
“Control.” Wei-Lin’s voice was bitter. “It’s always about control. If males believe they can mate with other species, they will leave Ciresia. The image of the Cire as separate and untouchable vanishes. The Council becomes more and more irrelevant.”
“It becomes a choice,” she said slowly, understanding dawning. “Not something they dictate. Not something they control.”
“Exactly.” Becsul’s jaw tightened. “And men like Naran would rather die than surrender that power.”
The cargo bay fell silent. Through the porthole, she could see the abandoned buildings surrounding them, the empty streets, and the ruins of what had once been a thriving neighborhood.This is what their extinction looks like,she thought. Not a dramatic ending, but a slow fade. Buildings emptying. Streets going quiet. A civilization simply… stopping.
“So what do we do now?” Sarah’s voice was small but steady.
“Now we wait.” Becsul moved towards the loading ramp controls. “This area was abandoned years ago because it was too close to one of the Red Death quarantine zones. No one comes here unless they have to.”
“Contaminated?” she asked, suddenly alarmed. “Is it safe for us? For Robbie?”
“The plague was exterminated many years ago. We’re safe.” He activated the ramp, and warm air flowed into the cargo bay, carrying an odd variety of scents—dust, something vaguely metallic, and underneath it all, the faint sweetness of decay. “I know a place nearby. We can lay low there until nightfall, then make our way to the spaceport.”
“And your contact?” Wei-Lin asked. “The freighter captain?”
“I’ll reach out once we’re settled. He operates on a… flexible schedule.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He ignored the sarcasm, and turned to Sarven, extending his hand in what she recognized as a warrior’s clasp—forearm to forearm, grips locked. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” But Sarven was smiling, a genuine expression that softened his sharp features. “You’re not off this rock.”
“No. But we’re closer than we were.” Becsul released his grip. “What will you do now?”
“Report to the depot. File a manifest. Act surprised when they ask about your whereabouts.” Sarven shrugged. “The usual.”
“They’ll question you.”
“Let them. I’ve been questioned before.” The pilot’s smile turned fierce. “Besides, there’s something more important I need to do.”
