“These people were here to hurt us. We did what we had to, to save our family.”
“Yeah.” She nods shakily, then seems to steel herself, straightening her narrow shoulders. “Yeah, you’re right.”
And this time, when I wrap my arms around her, she tucks herself against my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lydia
If I thought I was traumatized before, I was so wrong. Now every time I close my eyes, I see those three aliens tangled in the algae net, splashing in the lake, their shouts muffled by water. Whenever that happens, I force myself to remember the woman in the arena, waiting to die, and the lifeless way Sorin and Roan looked when Killan carried them from the Freighter to the relative safety of his house.
The bit that came next was creepy, too. But Killan promised us it was important. He fitted Sorin, first, into the strange upright coffin-container-thing that looks disturbingly like the plastic pods Harlee, Briar, and I werestoredin when Smith first abducted us.
When Sorin was snuggling inside the “coffin” (I can’t think of any better name to call it), there were all these flashing lights, and it displayed rows and rows of words, which only Killan could read. After studying them for a long moment, he nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Well?” Briar demanded, her lips white and her fingernails chewed down to the quick.
“He is healthy,” Killan answered, and Briar almost cried in relief. “He should wake soon. Once the sedative has run its course.” He then tested Roan the same way, explaining about how the “coffin” is actually a medical facility, the alien version of a one-stop shop for people who don’t live near a hospital. It can’t cure chronic diseases, but it does a pretty good job of disinfecting wounds and treating illnesses. Maybe it can help me manage my asthma…if I’m never brave enough to climb inside.
I made Killan get into the “coffin” next, even though the sight of him in there made my skin crawl, and I kept having to glance over my shoulder to double-check that Smith hadn’t suddenly returned to Ril II.
The “coffin” cleaned and sealed the cut on Killan's forehead (was it only yesterday that the cave ceiling collapsed?) and declared the lump on his head to be nothing serious.
Next, Killan and I searched the Freighter for signs of Chloe. I found her designer glasses, one lens cracked, on the floor of the cockpit, but there wasn’t anything else. Almost as though she’d never snuck on board. Which..wow. That’s going to take a lot of therapy to process.
“You are glaring,” Killan says, and I blink, coming back to the present.
We’re sitting in his still-destroyed kitchen—him and me, Briar and Sorin, Harlee and Roan. We’re each nursing a cup of Killan’s homemade hooch, shaken, scared, and traumatized but alive, safe, and together.
“Just thinking.” I resist yawning, but it escapes anyway.
We weren’t able to save the guy who drowned, but we pulled the other two aliens from the lake. Which...wow. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.
The Guild finally answered its fucking phone, and Killan was able to make a formal complaint about everything that happened. It then told him exactly how to tamper with the Freighter’s engine to keep the ship from leaving Ril II and how to lock the two remaining guys in their own cockpit to await arrest, while the Guild sends someone to collect them. They should be arriving in the next two days.
“What I’d like,” Briar says, catching my yawn and yawning herself, “is for one single drama-free month when someone isn’t trying to abduct me.”
“Oh yeah,” Harlee says through a yawn. “That was your third time.”
Roan opens his mouth experimentally. Is he trying to yawn, too? Do Ril’os even yawn? It’s not a question I thought to ask before, but I suddenly want to know. I want to know everything about Killan and his family and his home.
“I don’t mean to brag,” says Briar, clearly bragging, “but apparently I’m super popular in outer space.”
Sorin wraps his two left arms around her shoulders, shuffling his chair a fraction closer to hers, and she leans against him.
“Imagine what a boring life would be like,” I reminisce. “Seeding lakes. Harvesting lakes. Rinse and repeat. It’s starting to sound like heaven.”
“Careful,” Briar warns. “You’re starting to sound as if you actually like it here.”
A complicated mix of feelings assaults me. I’m excited to be staying. I love that I’m not leaving the two best women in the entire universe, and I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and find that Killan hasn’t rushed off to work and is still asleep beside me.
But…the part of me that cringes at the sight of an unfinished plan is embarrassed to admit failure. Especially as everyone else has known for months that I wasn’t ever getting back to Earth.I’d been the only one stubborn enough—and stupid enough—to think I could change the course of our lives.
Call me selfish—hate admitting to being wrong.
“What would we do without her?” Killan asks, speaking before I can think of an answer. “It was Lydia who planned and organized your rescue. If she were to leave, I hate to think of the trouble we would find ourselves in.”
“That’s right,” Harlee says, reaching across the straightened table to take my hand. “I haven’t said this nearly enough. Please don’t leave, Lydia. We need you. We’ll miss you. It won’t be the same if you’re gone.” She makes it sound as if she’s begging. As if there’s still the possibility Icouldleave, and I love her for it.
