But whatever she intended to say was drowned out as a harsh crackle of static burst from the comms array. I flinched,instinctively reaching to kill the offending noise before a tinny voice cut through the interference.
"...oner Raxon, this is Fleet Actual. We have you on approach vector and are ready to initiate docking procedures. Prepare for secured linkup and transfer of all detainees to the holding deck."
My shoulders stiffened at the coldly impersonal phrasing. Of course, the fleet commanders would view any captives we'd retrieved as just more potential threats to be neutralized. Not all species we saved appreciated their rescue. It was standard protocol, one I shouldn't have expected any different from.
And yet, the clinical terminology, the way it so blithely stripped Sutton of any sense of individuality or personhood, made that protective impulse flare up again like an open flame.
"Acknowledged, Fleet Actual," I growled into the pickup, fighting to keep my tone level and professional. "We have... one high-value detainee aboard for secured transfer. Requesting quarantine procedures and assignment of a protective custody detail."
There was a fractional pause, one just long enough to convey the comm officer's surprise at my addendum.
"Understood, Raxon. We'll have a containment team assembled and ready to receive your... detainee." The unspoken questions hung in the air like a miasma—who was this 'high-value' captive I spoke of? Why did they merit such special handling outside standard operating procedures?
But to their credit, the Fleet officers remained silent on such matters. Discipline and mission focus were two of their strongest virtues, after all.
"Raxon out." I killed the channel with a flick of my thumb, then swiveled to regard Sutton once more.
To her credit, she'd remained outwardly composed throughout the terse exchange. But I could see the slight tremblein her limbs, the way her wide eyes kept flicking between me and the looming shapes of the Coalition fleet growing larger through the viewports.
"Hey." The gentle rumble slipped out before I could stop it. "It'll be alright, you have my word. I'll be right there to oversee the entire process and make sure you're treated according to my specifications."
Those expressive eyes found mine, shining with a kaleidoscope of unnameable emotions. Fear and uncertainty warred with a fragile sort of hope, all underpinned by a core of unyielding determination.
In that moment, I felt an unexpected surge of pride and respect for this little human female. She might be out of her depth in our reality, but she was facing it head-on instead of crumbling beneath the strain.
There was a remarkable strength to her, one that resonated deep within me in a way I couldn't begin to explain or understand. All I knew was that in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to shield her, to keep that inner fire blazing no matter what the galaxy threw our way.
Sutton held my gaze for a few heartbeats longer, then gave a slight nod—not quite acceptance of her circumstances, but an acknowledgment of the path we were being forced to walk together.
"Okay," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the thrum of the engines. "I'm ready."
I blinked, an unexpected lump forming in my throat at her simple words of assent. Swallowing hard, I could only nod as I turned back to the controls.
The docking procedures were already underway, the fleet's powerful tractor beams locking onto our small craft and guiding us into the main hangar bay. In mere moments, Suttonand I would be face-to-face with the full weight of the Coalition military.
Chapter Five
Sutton
The docking procedure was like something ripped straight from a sci-fi movie. One minute we were gliding through the inky blackness of space, next a fleet of massive ships, their hulls bristling with weapons and sensor arrays, swarmed near our little craft.
I couldn't tear my gaze away as they closed in around us. Energy fields crackled and shimmered, and suddenly we were inside one of the behemoth vessels.
The artificial gravity shifted as we were swallowed into the alien ship's hangar bay. I gripped the edges of my seat, fighting back a wave of vertigo as Raxon expertly guided us through the final docking procedures.
The ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics, and I flinched as fearsome alien warriors formed up outside. They looked like something out of a nightmare, all gleaming obsidian armor and wicked blades at the ready. They were a mix of aliens, some I recognized as those held captive on the same ship as me. Others were scary-looking aliens that looked like they could eat me for lunch and not think anything of it.
Raxon rumbled something low and reassuring, but I could only gape at him in stunned silence. How was I supposed to feel safe when everywhere I looked, creatures from my worst nightmares were walking around? Even Raxon looked like an unholy fusion of feline and human, a creature purpose-built to hunt and destroy anything in its path. Yet I felt safer with Raxon than I had since the night I had been taken from Earth.
Then Raxon rose from the pilot's station, fixing me with those blazing amber eyes. "Stay close," he growled, the low tones of his voice seeming to reverberate straight through my bones. "Do exactly as I say, and you'll be alright. Understand?"
I could only nod, mute terror rendering me incapable of speech. Because despite his words of reassurance, I knew the truth—I was well and truly at the mercy of these alien beings now. My life was in their hands, and even Raxon's stern promises couldn't change that fact.
He seemed to study me a moment longer, perhaps gauging my mental state. Then, with a slight dip of his head, he turned and started down the ramp towards the waiting warriors.
I scrambled to follow, keeping on his heels as we were surrounded. Raxon barked out a series of harsh syllables, and the guards parted just enough to allow us through. I could feel the weight of their alien stares boring into me, sense the thinly veiled hostility wafting off them in waves.
We moved through a dizzying labyrinth of corridors and security checkpoints. At each one, Raxon had to submit to scans and biometric identification, receiving brusque clearance before we could proceed further. All the while, I stayed plastered at his side, trying my best to make myself seem as small and unobtrusive as possible.
