Well…thatworked out.
His appearance momentarily startled me, despite my relief, because he was inhabiting his most terrifying form yet.
Maroxians were vaguely humanoid, if only because of the bipedal aspect, but that was where the similarities ended. This particular skinsuit was closer to a xenomorph, with its inky-black exoskeleton, sleek aerodynamic head, disconcerting lack of eyes, and an extremely impressive tongue.
Hot.
I wasn’t being sarcastic. Yes, I probably would have pissed myself if faced with one of these predators IRL, but withZiggybehind the wheel, the grotesque became gorgeous.
Because it’s him.
Wait…
Is that him?
“Z-Zig?” I whispered, thepullI normally felt in his presence nowhere to be found.
That was when I realized the Maroxian at the bottom of the ramp was not only empty-handed, but had made no move to enter the ship. It was simply watching me, its creepily sightless head lowered and its elongated body coiled in a crouch, as if preparing to pounce.
Oh, fuck.
I dove for the keypad, but it was too late. Thenot-Ziggy nightmare was already bounding up the closing ramp on all fours—its claws gouging the metal as it released an ear-splitting shriek.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Operating on instinct alone, I used my powers to conjure a series of darts before blindly firing. Without waiting to see if they made contact, I threw myself through the door leading back inside the ship.
The Maroxian’s howl implied my aim was accurate. Unfortunately, the hit didn’t slow my opponent in the least as it tackled me before I could fully close the door.
I screamed—more from fear than pain—but managed to lengthen my steel toe spikes beyond my shields to kick the alien off me, power up my supespeed, and start running.
Ya boy needs a weapon!
As impressive as Ziggy thought my superpowers were, Ididhave my limitations. Yes, I could form basic weapons out of inorganic matter, including earthly guns, but that didn't mean I could match the offensive technology needed to survive out here in space.
The only reason I’d been able to take down Astrum Force’s Head Commander—besides feeding off my grief over Ziggy’s supposed death—was because I’d obsessively studied my man’s tendrils and battle techniques. Unfortunately, after being told Iwasn’tsetting foot on Marox, I’d stopped all research on its inhabitants out of bratty protest.
Not the smartest move, in hindsight…
In the interest of said hindsight, I quickly extended my high-tech glasses to 360 mode and immediately wished I hadn’t. The Maroxian was close enough that if I hadn’t had my shields up, I would have felt its breath on my neck.
Probably would have smelled it too.
My lungs screamed from exertion as I rounded the corner, but the sight of the weapons I’d discarded on the gangway gave me a second wind. I dove into the mountain of ammunition like it was a pile of autumn leaves, grabbed the first thing I could, and twisted onto my back before pulling the trigger.
The Maroxian yowled in pain, stumbling backward and pausing only long enough to glance down at the fuckingharpoonsticking out of its midsection before releasing a bone-chilling growl.
Imma die.
My superhuman strength was fading, making my shields waver alarmingly. Meanwhile, my intergalactic opponent seemed mildly irritated at being majorly disemboweled, clearly more than ready to go twenty more rounds.
Ziggy’s gonna be so pissed if I die…
At the thought of my man, the piece of him permanently lodged inside me pulsed—hard—and my hand moved of its own volition to grab what looked like a goddamn rocket launcher.
Why not go out with a bang?
The Maroxian screeched a battle cry and leaped for my jugular. I fired, releasing a screech of my own as the propulsion tossed me backward into the pile. When death didn’t arrive, I tentatively opened my eyes, but all I could see beyond my visor was a thick coating of green goo dripping down my shields.
