Destin's Hold (The Alliance #5)(71)

“Sula….” Destin greeted.

“Destin… Destin….” Sula had to swallow before she could continue.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?” Destin demanded.

“The lake… Yes, Prymorus… Destin, Mason is dead,” she whispered brokenly.

“Tell him,” Prymorus ordered, shaking her hard.

“The lake… Prymorus wants you to meet us at the lake with an off-world transport,” she forced past the thickness in her throat. “He said… he said if you don’t that you’ll find pieces of me.”

“On the lake, where?” Destin demanded in a voice devoid of emotion.

Sula glanced at Prymorus for instructions. Fear gripped her when he didn’t say anything at first. It took a moment for her to realize that the other man was unsure of the area.

“Tell him the old planetarium,” Destin finally said. “You’ll need a transport to get there. Go due east until you get to the lake, then north along it. It will be on an island by itself. It is a dome-shaped building. It will take me a while to get the type of transport he needs.”

“Proceed with caution, human. I have no fear of dying,” Prymorus warned. “I would not say the same for the Councilor.”

“Sula…,” Destin said.

Sula closed her eyes again and tilted her face away from Prymorus when he reached up and removed the communicator from her ear, effectively cutting Destin off. She turned her head toward him when he stepped away. Swallowing down her fear, she turned back to him and defiantly met his eyes.

“Move inside,” Prymorus ordered, nodding to a door nearby.

Sula slid past him and slowly walked to the door. This was the building where the transport Chelsea had told her about was stored. She opened the door, and stepped inside. The interior was dim. The first three bays were empty. The fourth bay contained an air transport.

“You will pilot the craft,” Prymorus said, motioning for her to move forward.

Sula hesitated. Her feet felt like they were filled with the heavy ore of the Drethulan pods. She started to shake her head, but stopped when he shoved her in the center of her back.

“Why do you want Destin?” Sula asked in a thick voice.

“Because I am a force to be reckoned with! The Alliance will fear me, not just the power of the Drethulans and the Waxians – me! They need an example of what is still to come. He will be the first,” Prymorus replied.

Sula swallowed and opened the door to the pilot’s seat. She climbed into the front of the transport while he climbed into the back. Pressing the power, she waited while the doors of the transport closed and the one to the building opened.

“Why involve a human? He is not part of the Alliance Council. Why would they care about you killing a human male?” Sula argued.

“Chancellor Razor’s Amate will care,” Prymorus replied in an icy voice. “Move slowly and do not engage any other fighters.”

“This is a medical transport. The Trivators will give it clearance. I can’t say the same for the Drethulans,” Sula snapped, guiding the transport carefully out of the storage bay and into the yard.

She carefully maneuvered the vehicle clear of the building and rose. Once again her throat tightened when she saw Mason lying among the other dead. Swirls of smoke danced around the transport and she refocused on the distant shoreline. Pressing the accelerator, the transport shot forward, away from the Trivator base and toward Lake Michigan.

She was forced to keep the transport low. There were no more Drethulan pods falling from the sky, but the Trivator fighters were still locked in combat with the few remaining Drethulan fighters. Her hands tightened on the controls and she turned the transport sharply to avoid colliding with an escaping Drethulan fighter.

An explosion behind them rocked the transport and she almost lost control of it. Her shoulder protested the strain she placed on it, but she ignored the pain. Instead, she used all of the calm she could muster to focus on a plan of attack that wouldn’t leave Destin or her dead. Leveling the transport out, she moved away from the battle to the tranquil waters in the distance.





23





Destin stood frozen, staring across the open area of the base where he had been fighting. Smoke, fires, bodies, and the destroyed remains of both Trivator and Drethulan fighters littered the area. The remains of the burning Drethulan pods covered the area.

The acrid smell was overwhelming and Destin had removed his outer T-shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. He didn’t bother replacing it after talking to Sula. His gaze locked on where Cutter stood. They had been fighting together for the last several hours.

“What is it?” Cutter asked.

“Mason is dead. Prymorus has Sula,” Destin replied. “I need your assistance.”

Cutter grimly nodded. “Where are they?” he asked.

“The old Adler Planetarium,” Destin responded. “Prymorus wants an off-planet transport.”

“I know where one is and I know a pilot for it,” Cutter replied with a sharp-tooth smile.

“I won’t jeopardize Sula’s safety,” Destin said.

“He will kill you both if he takes you. I promised Trig I wouldn’t let that happen,” Cutter retorted, pushing past him to one of the hangers several hundred meters away.