Ignus tilts his head back against the wall and rolls it to look up at us. “I’m not Mindoran.”
We all turn to look at him.
“What are you talking about?” Marne asks.
Ignus takes a deep breath and releases it. His body shifts to blue scales with vibrant Nytheralian blue eyes. With another breath, he takes on deep red skin with bright red eyes. Black wings sprout from his back. Another breath turns him iridescent white like Leosantians. “I’m a shifter, just not your kind of shifter.
“I was abandoned on your world as a child because, believe it or not, Mindor is safer than our world. I just wore the Mindoran suit to survive. But your kind protected me. So I fight for you.”
“Then you are Mindoran in your heart,” Spike remarks. “And that’s what matters.”
Ignus forces himself to his feet with a groan. “They are looking for any power they can use against the federation. Seeing through shields, siphoning light,fracture pulsesthat they can send across space to shatter anything around their ships, anything that will make taking what they need easier. Even mimicking other species’ cloaks.” Ignus motions to himself.
“We need to get Azrim back. Can we start there?” I ask.
Marne motions in the direction Azrim was taken.
Ignus shifts to a Myndrous pattern then back to Mindoran again. “I will find Esrynne and get the crew loaded on our BloodMoon.”
“I will help,” Spike adds.
Marne joins me, and we form up with Carnas and Corzin in the front. I’ve never hunted with a team before, but the way they move together like one mind makes me want to be a part of such a well-oiled machine like this more often.
We find the forward chamber, but there’s no one alive around the conference tables.
“Must be on the bridge,” Corzin replies.
Carnas tenses as we stop outside the bridge access.
“Easy, brother,” Corzin warns.
“There is nothing easy about how it feels to have a bond threatened before it has a chance to become something.” Carnas is already worked up over Esrynne, and he barely knows her, just like Zorin was with me, and I realize just how powerful a scent-bond can be.
“Carnas…” Marne calls to him.
Carnas pants. “I’m good. I’m good.”
Marne directs them around one side of the bridge, then motions that he and I will take the other. The Nebulous commander has Azrim on his knees, before him, under guard. He wears the same gray uniform and cloak as the male who put me in the chamber on the first ship.
“Avoid the light,” Marne warns. “They can see you in the glass reflections.”
“Won’t they smell you?” I ask.
“Scent masking.”
I tilt my head and wrinkle my nose at the damp fur scent I’m picking up. “But I can still smell you.”
Marne rolls his eyes skyward. “Sorry.”
We creep into the shadows of the control stations where only a few Nebs still work.
“I’m surprised it took you this long to get to my ship, dark one.” The commander gets up from his seat and walks to where Azrim sits. I catch just enough of a glimpse around the edge of a desk that I notice the blood draining from Azrim’s chest and shoulder. A Myndrous guard jabs him again with the voltspear, puncturing his flesh and shocking him at the same time.
I know that life-draining feeling, the way it makes a heart pound lethargically as it tries to find its rhythm again. It’s terrifying, yet Azim takes the misery and nods like he deserves it.
Azrim’s whole body tenses, every muscle bulges, veins rise in his neck and face. But he grits his teeth and doesn’t make more than a restrained grunt.
The commander walks down his steps to Azrim and folds his hands behind his back.
