“What?”
Sarven looked past Becsul, at her and the other women, at Katie still clinging to her mother’s hand. When he spoke, his voice carried a solemnity that hadn’t been there before.
“You’ve given us hope, Captain. Real hope. For the first time since the plague.” The expression on his face was almost painful to watch. “The Council has been lying to us. Telling us that we’re alone, that we’re dying, and that there’s no future except the one they’ve planned. But they’re wrong.”
“Sarven—”
“I’m going to start spreading the word.” The words came faster now. “Carefully. Quietly. To people I trust. The truth the Council has been hiding—that there are other possibilities, other paths forward. That mates who aren’t Cire might be possible.”
“That could get you killed.”
“So could helping you escape.” Sarven’s chin lifted. “Some things are worth dying for. You taught me that, once upon a time. Seems like it’s my turn to learn the lesson properly.”
Becsul was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he inclined his head in a gesture of respect and acknowledgment, and something that looked like pride.
“Be careful.”
“Always am.” Sarven was already moving towards the cockpit. “Now get going. The longer you stand here looking emotional, the more likely someone’s going to notice this shuttle hasn’t moved.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The streets were eerily quiet as they left the landing pad behind. Melissa walked close to Becsul, Robbie secured in an improvised sling against her chest, trying not to stare at the ruins around them. The buildings here had been elegant once—she could see it in the decorative stonework, the graceful arches, and the remnants of what might have been gardens now choked with strange, dark-leaved plants.
People lived here,she thought.Families. Children. And then the plague came, and they all just… left.
Or they didn’t leave. Couldn’t leave. They died in their homes, in their beds, while the disease burned through them like fire.
She shivered despite the warmth of the air.
“It’s not much farther.” Becsul’s voice was low, pitched to carry only to her. His tail brushed lightly against her leg in a reassuring gesture. “There’s a residential complex at the end of this street. One of my… contacts keeps a few rooms maintained for situations like this.”
“Situations like fleeing arrest warrants for treason?”
“Situations requiring discretion.”
“That’s a diplomatic way to put it.”
Behind them, Sarah and Katie walked hand in hand, the mother’s pace carefully matched to her daughter’s shorter stride. Katie still hadn’t spoken, but her eyes moved constantly, taking in the abandoned buildings, the overgrown streets, and the alien sky above them. Melissa thought that was probably a good sign. Awareness was better than the blank stare she’d worn on the shuttle.
Wei-Lin brought up the rear, her posture alert, and her gaze constantly scanning for threats. She’d found a length of pipe somewhere and carried it with the easy familiarity of someone who knew how to use improvised weapons.
We make quite a group,she thought.A scientist, a soldier, a botanist, a woman and her daughter, and a baby. The universe’s strangest escape party.
The residential complex loomed ahead—a squat, blocky structure that had clearly been designed for function over form. Unlike the more ornate buildings around it, this one seemed almost aggressively plain, its walls unadorned and its windows narrow and reinforced.
“Worker housing,” Becsul explained as they approached. “Built during the industrial expansion, before the plague. The walls are thick, the rooms are small, and there’s only one entrance.”
“Easy to defend,” Wei-Lin observed.
“That was the idea.”
He led them around to a side door, partially hidden by overgrown vegetation. A quick manipulation of the lock and the door swung open.
Inside, the air was stale but breathable. Emergency lights flickered on as they entered, casting everything in a dim amber glow that made her think of sunset. The corridor was narrow, the walls close, and the ceiling low enough that Becsul had to duck slightly. Doors lined both sides, most of them sealed, their surfaces dusty and undisturbed. But at the end of the corridor, one door stood slightly ajar, and light—real light, not the emergency glow—spilled through the gap.
Becsul pushed it open.
The room beyond was small, as promised, but surprisingly comfortable. Simple furnishings—a bed, a table, several chairs—had been arranged with care, and someone had recently cleaned the floors and walls. A connected doorway led to what looked like a second, similar room, and beyond that, Melissa could glimpse a third.
