Destin's Hold (The Alliance #5)(70)
A pod landed not more than two hundred meters away and the door burst open. “Ah, shit! Damn it! Another one’s hatched,” Mason groaned, staring out the doorway.
Sula watched in horror as the Drethulan spilled out of the capsule. Instead of being in a humanoid form, it was in its natural one. It immediately started digging, trying to disappear behind the soil to escape the gunfire aimed at it. Mason swung the gun on his shoulder around, and with a loud yell, he burst through the door after it, firing as he went.
Her heart in her throat, Sula hurried over to the door. She gripped the handle and stared out the doorway. The sky above them was difficult to see for all the smoke. The building across from medical had been hit and was on fire. Trivator fighters were still engaging the Drethulans. There were fewer pods opening than there had been. Most were destroyed before they made it to the ground.
Horror made everything feel hazy for a moment. Sula refocused when Mason and two Trivators aimed a burst of gunfire at a section of ground near the pod that was moving. Mason and two Trivator warriors turned in a tight circle when the ground stopped moving. Sula’s lips parted when she saw the ground buckle a short distance from them. One of the Trivators twisted around as the Drethulan erupted from the ground behind them. Sharp tentacles struck out, hitting the man in the side.
“No!” Sula cried out, seeing the man fall and the Drethulan strike him again. “Mason, look out!”
Sula started forward. She was unaware of even moving until she was running toward Mason. Her hand wrapped around the Mylio-batoidei baton stuck in the back of her jeans. Another creature suddenly appeared and Sula flung out her arm, shooting out a wave of energy from the baton just as the creature struck Mason in the back.
The wave sliced through the creature’s tentacle, severing it. As if in slow motion, Sula watched Mason’s large body stiffen for a moment before he fell forward. Swinging the baton around, she snapped the band of energy back across the creature’s neck, nearly decapitating it. The lone Trivator turned his weapon on the first Drethulan, riddling its body with a burst of laser fire until it collapsed.
Sula fell to her knees next to Mason. Hot tears streaked down her face as she tenderly looked down at his blank eyes. Her fingers trembled as she ran them down over his cheek. Pain and grief engulfed her at the senseless death of a good man. Glancing up, she stared through the smoke at all the destruction.
“Why?” she whispered, blinking through the haze of tears.
“The fall of this planet would just be the beginning of a new era,” a voice behind her said. “Drop your weapon, Councilor, or I will remove your hand from your body.”
Sula turned, falling to the side in surprise. Her eyes widened and she stared up at the twisted face of a Waxian. He held a pistol in each hand. Her gaze followed where he was pointing one and she saw the body of the Trivator lying on the ground next to the Drethulan he had killed. Her fingers relaxed and the Mylio-batoidei baton dropped to the ground next to Mason.
“You are my way off this world,” the Waxian stated, motioning for her rise.
Sula pushed off the ground and slowly stood up. Her gaze locked on the male pointing the pistol at her. A shiver ran through her when she realized who he must be.
“You’re the one called Prymorus,” she said more than asked.
“This way, Princess,” Prymorus ordered with a wave of his pistol. “Where is the other human?”
“Other human…?” Sula asked.
“The one called Destin Parks. Where is he?” Prymorus demanded, sliding one of the pistols he held in a holster at his side before grabbing her arm and pulling her close.
Sula couldn’t keep the cry of pain from escaping her when he roughly jerked her wounded side – intense pain radiated down from her shoulder into her arm. His fingers bit into her through the plaid, long-sleeve shirt that she was wearing. She stumbled on the uneven ground, biting back another cry when he shook her.
“I… I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been working in the medical unit while he has been fighting.”
“Do you have a communicator?” Prymorus asked.
Sula reluctantly nodded. “Yes,” she admitted when he squeezed her arm in a crushing grip. “Yes, I have a communicator, but I don’t know if it will work.”
“Contact him. Tell him to meet us at the body of water near here with an off-world transport,” Prymorus ordered, jerking her to the left and standing still next to a building as several Trivator and human soldiers ran by them. “Now or he will find your body in pieces.”
“How can you expect him to bring an off-world shuttle? He is human. He does not know how to operate such ships,” Sula started to argue before she closed her eyes in pain when he jerked her around, pressing his thumb into her shoulder and the pistol under her chin.
“He’ll find a way,” Prymorus murmured. “Now contact him.”
A soft whimper escaped Sula when he pulled his thumb away. Her knees felt weak and nausea threatened to overwhelm her. For a moment, she was tempted to give up on controlling it and just throw up all over the Waxian ignoramus. She opened her eyes and reached into the front pocket of the trousers Chelsea had given her to remove the small communicator she carried.
Slipping it into her ear, she murmured the command for it to connect her to Destin. It took several tries before he finally responded. Sula felt a fierce wave of protectiveness and love sweep through her, threatening to choke her when she heard the sound of his slightly breathless greeting and deeply drawn in breath.