Page 66 of Bride of the Enemy Alien

I grunt and glare at him. The green under his ribs warms.

“Do not flirt with the live relay,” Syin snaps.

“I was being hostile,” I say.

“Your hostility is noisy.”

“I can make it noisier,” I say, raising my voice. “And you know what that will do.”

Renn makes the mistake of coughing. Maro turns it into a cough of his own. Lio studies the horizon with the devout focus of a man pretending not to hear anything.

I press salt cloth over the glowing line. Rhazek inhales sharply and his whole body locks like every muscle has become a door bar thrown across old fear. He grits his teeth so hard I hear them grinding, but the pulse fades by half.

I exhale sharply, leaning back to inspect the work.

“There,” I say. “Dampened.”

“Not gone,” Rhazek whispers, clearly in pain.

“Noted. I save optimism for emergencies.”

“This is an emergency.”

“Then we’re already overspending.”

His gaze drops to my hand. I haven’t taken it away from the cloth. My fingers press against his ribs through salt and ash and bandage. I’m not touching skin, but it’s still enough that my pulse is making terrible decisions.

I pull back. The green flickers once. Rhazek looks away first. Good. Let him have a little self-preservation.

Syin crouches by the broken tracker, but doesn’t touch it. He’s annoying, suspicious, and rigid, but not stupid.

“This can no longer send?”

Rhazek shakes his head. “No. But it may have sent enough before we broke it.”

“How much is enough?” Renn asks.

“For coordinates? One clean burst. For proof? More.”

“What proof?” Lio asks.

Rhazek looks at me. I wish he would stop doing that before saying the worst thing in the room.

“Surviving Zmaj,” he says. “Human survivors. Hybrid bloodlines. Epis in play. Active resonance. A living world everyone thought dead.”

Maro whispers, “That seems like a lot.”

“It is,” Rhazek says. “That is why they came.”

Anger surges fresh as if it’s the first time I’ve felt it. He knew this. Or knew it was possible and not only did he come, he held it back. Hands curling into fists I step closer, leaning back so I can glare into his open eye.

“You should have told us the relay could answer.”

“Yes.”

No defense. No careful speech. No explanation or excuses. Just yes. That only makes me angrier.

“I do not forgive you,” I say.