And we knew that Silver was part of the Q’Ren. Arguably, she was the founder. We have known this all along, haven’t we? Isn’t it why Scizzor wanted to kill her in the first place?”
“We have evidence now, Warden. For the first time, we know who killed Saya. We have a name. More than a name. We have the actual human woman responsible… and you want me to keep it a secret.”
“Yes.”
“You want me to keep it a secret from everybody else on this ship. Including those of us who have nothing to do but listen?” He puts meaningful intonation on those last words.
I must be stupid. Either that, or I am so thoroughly distracted by Karen’s revelation that I don’t understand what Tusk is telling me for over a minute, which is several times more than it takes for a scythkin to kill a human. Feeds from the bridge are not private. They can be tapped into from anywhere on the ship, because scythkin are not supposed to have secrets from one another. There’s a decent chance that Scizzor already knows.
“Go,” Tusk says. “Go and see if your human is still alive.”
“Well, good luck with that!” Karen signs off with what sounds a little too much like glee for my liking. I don’t have time to file a complaint with her manager. I have bigger problems on my hands, like a captive human mate and a vengeful broodkin who just found out who killed our beloved Saya.
Silver
Has he found anything? Could he maybe be right? Is there a chance that Ella survived? I am left in the dark with nothing but questions, and worse than questions… cravings.
I’ve been alone too long. I miss Warden. The cravings for his seed are diminishing. I am starting to be less physically dependent on him, but there are other desires. Ones based less in addiction and more in emotional connection.
I thought my desire for him was a chemical thing. I thought he was manipulating me. Using me. Taking advantage of me as all aliens seem to want to take advantage of humans. But it is possible that he wasn’t ever doing any of that.
I am starting to believe that Warden could be described as a good man, if he were human. When I can push aside the veil of grief for long enough to concentrate on the present rather than mourning the past, I can see that he genuinely wants to help me. He might be the first alien to ever truly want something good for me.
He has entered dangerous territory with me now. He has given me something I haven’t had in years: hope. It is a tiny sliver of hope, but it is still hope. If he is correct, and the attack on our planet wasn’t scythkin, then there is a chance that my baby is out there somewhere.
The door to my cell opens, and I turn toward it with a hopeful look. Does he have news? Is it good news?
It is not good news.
It is not Warden.
It is someone else. Something else.
The scythkin confronting me is seething with rage, his eyes flaring and glaring toward me. His blades are extended, his horns canted forward so the entirety of his deathly being is focused entirely on me. The world contracts so there is nothing but this thing, this bringer of ends.
I have been in the presence of many scythkin. I have killed several, but never at this close a range. In this situation, my death is inevitable. I open my mouth, but not to scream, or even to beg. My jaw drops with fear, my face forming a mask of terror in the reflected horror standing before me.
Warden
I am too late.
The cell is open.
I should have known better. Should have been more careful, but all of those should haves are irrelevant now because there is nothing that can stop the present from unfolding. Scizzor has my mate in his arms. He is holding her like a rough animal might hold a gummed chew toy.
As I enter the cell, she looks at me. I can’t see any obvious serious wounds, but she looks terrified.
“Scizzor?”
I say his name as gently as I can while wanting to hurt him. He has her too close for me to intervene. If I throw myself at him and try to kill him for the sin of touching her, he could have her in a dozen pieces before I reached her. I am helpless. Hoping for mercy and