Daahn Rising (15 page)

“Why didn’t you just call for a lockdown?” Evan groused.

One of the guards snorted. “Pira wants to prove his men are human enough to control the urge to kill you.”

Something in his tone caught Evan’s attention. He looked from one uncovered face to another, noting the sea of dark glasses. Several of their necks and foreheads undulated, ridge plates extending and retracting in fierce anger.

Xxan. Mac brought in a dozen crossbred Dominants.

“Being human is overrated,” he quipped. “I’m glad to have you guys on my side.”

Smiles appeared on two of the faces, just a quirking of the mouth in response to his compliment.

One guard offered a tip of his head. “You and your mate are safe under our protection.”

Evan nodded his thanks.

Walking the corridors was nerve-racking. There was no longer a question of what people felt about Evan.

“Where are you taking
him
?” an onlooker demanded.

The stress on the last word, as if Evan was something loathsome, raised a sour wave in his mouth. Pira thought these men weren’t a threat? He either wanted someone to kill Evan or was terminally stupid.

The sailor who’d spoken reached for the guard ahead of Evan and to the right. “Hey, I asked you a question, Marine.”

The Xxanian in question shoved him back before the sailor could connect with his shoulder. “Prisoner transfer, fireman. Stand back.”

“Prisoner transfer?” another challenged. “With the woman along for the ride?”

“Keep moving,” one of the guards behind him instructed Evan.

Stopping was the last thing Evan wanted to do. He’d only stopped because the men in front of him had.

“The brig’s the other way,” someone farther up the corridor shouted.

Someone across from him retorted with: “Scalies guarding scalies. They always protect their own, you know.”

“Don’t answer,” Evan’s adviser whispered.

He nodded, though the reply stuck in his throat like a small wad of food, choking him lightly.

“Back off.” Deacon’s voice came from one of the side corridors. “What if it had been
your
wife?
Your
girlfriend? The woman is the mother of his child, man. That’s a sacred trust. A man protects his wife and children. At least a real man does.”

Evan met Deacon’s gaze over one of the guard’s shoulders and nodded his thanks.

The sailor beside him shoved Deacon against the bulkhead. “What’re you? A scaly-lover like him?”

In the blink of an eye, the closest Marine to them had a shock stick at the attacker’s throat. “Stand down or the brig is your next stop.”

“Drop.”

It wasn’t Mac, but Evan complied. He hit the deck plates on his knees and shielded Zondra with his body.

Weapons unlocked and powered up in every direction.

Shit. This is about to get ugly. I should have taken the armor for me. At least it would have shielded Zondra better.

Mac’s voice was amplified by his helmet. “You’ve got one chance, son. Hand the weapon over and face ‘assault with a weapon’ charges or die here.”

One of the weapons ramped up to a higher setting, and Evan prayed it belonged to a Marine guard tired of this bullshit rather than the one attacking their group.

There was a moment of tense silence, then grumbled curses.

“Back off.” The voice was rough, probably fighting its way past an extended set of ridge plates.

Shuffling feet announced someone complying, and Evan breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your men failed, Pira,” Mac called out. “Guess they aren’t so superior after all. I want a lockdown. Now.”

The alarm blared, and the crowds shuffled back into rooms and side corridors. Pressure doors sealed in every direction. Moments passed, and two of the remaining sailors were shoved to the emergency rail and cuffed to it.

“Cameras show all clear, MacNair.” Pira’s voice echoed off the stark metal.

The Xxanian Marines secured their weapons, and two of them lifted Evan to his feet.

“You protected your mate well,” one of them complimented him.

“You, too. Thanks.”

Deacon looked around, more than a little rattled by the chain of events if his wide eyes and ragged breathing were any indication.

Mac opened his visor with a puff of released air and waved Deacon along with them. “You’re with us. If you stay here, it’s going to get ugly.” He pointed to the prisoners. “Pira will deal with you.”

“Better than scaly justice,” one shot back.

The guard between him and Evan scowled at the sailor. “I guarantee I would have killed you quickly for pointing a weapon at a female.”

Mac took over from there. “Captain Pira put his reputation on the line in the belief that none of you would be stupid enough to try this. What he does to you will be lasting, I’m sure.”

With that, the procession started moving again. Two of the Marine guards broke ranks to place themselves between Evan and the new prisoners, then shuffled back into line around him.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and Pira met them at the forward hatch.

Mac took a packet of papers from the captain’s hand. “Make a transfer packet for Petty Officer Deacon. Captain Seaver will be glad to have him.”

Pira nodded grimly.

And Pira will regret losing both of us this way.

It took a moment for the significance of sending Deacon to Seaver’s ship to sink in. That was where Aleeks was stationed. Gratitude that Mac was taking care of Deacon welled up in his chest, and Evan closed his eyes and thanked him silently.

“What do you suggest I do with the two below decks?” Pira asked, seemingly weighing his words carefully.

Evan opened his eyes, watching the interaction for signs that it was all going south again.

Mac handed the captured weapon over. “Assault and two counts of assault with. That will land one in the brig for a week or so and the other in Leavenworth for at least six months, by my estimation. I’d tack a drop in rank on the second... or a dishonorable. Your choice. Oh, and I highly recommend race relations training. Your command is full of bigoted idiots. You know that, don’t you?”

“Just that?” His surprise was impossible to miss. “You’re not going to press for the limits?”

Mac offered a cold smile. “Tell them the scaly-lovers suggested it.”

With that, he led the way to two nine-man vans guarded by two Xxanian Marines each.

Chapter Thirteen

The trip to Daahn’s nest didn’t take long. In less than an hour, the vans had dropped Deacon off at his apartment and Mac, Evan, and Zondra off at a rambling ranch-style house. Evan glanced at his truck, already parked in front of the home, seemingly packed with everything he’d left at the house he’d been sharing.

Everything left after Reynolds’s attack.
He hoped Zondra had a decent amount of belongings here. Evan resolved to replace what he could... and erase what he could of the attack from her memories.

Mac cleared his throat. “I couldn’t be sure how much would survive the mob.” He didn’t apologize for the invasion of privacy.

“Thanks, Mac.”

The Marines took their leave. Several tipped a head to Evan and wished him well. One uttered a Xxanian phrase that held the reverence of a prayer and turned away with a deep bow.

“What did he say?” Evan asked.

Mac clapped a hand on his shoulder. “May you have many daughters.”

His brow furrowed. “Dau —” Evan snapped a look at the retreating vans. The son of a bitch was wishing himself a prospective mate. “That bastard.”

“Cut them some slack, Evan. Human women don’t agree to become mates often. Other Xxanian females are more likely to. But look at Zondra. If she chose a human, others might.”

Mac turned toward the house, bringing Evan’s scrutiny to it again. It looked deceptively normal and human. He wouldn’t have guessed that the highest-ranking Xxanian elder on Earth lived here if he’d been shown a picture of it.

The code pad flashed a welcoming green, and Mac opened the door, waving Evan and Zondra in ahead of him. The room was akin to a locker room: there were two long benches and hooks, some of which had brightly-colored cloth hung from them.

He expected to move on, but Mac started stripping off his armor and storing it beneath the farthest hooks on the right.

“Mac?” What in the world was he doing? Was it against some Xxanian household rule to enter Daahn’s nest in armor?

“Toe off your shoes.”

“What?” What were the rules? And what would Daahn do if Evan violated them?

Mac pulled off his shirt and hung it on an empty hook. He brought the blue cloth from the neighboring hook back in his empty hand. The cloth looped over one shoulder, leaving most of his chest bare, and covered him from hips to knees.

“Shoes,” he repeated. “Even if you refuse to wear the
S’suumea
, you cannot enter the nest in shoes.”

Evan toed off the grippers, reasoning that it was good form to do so in any household. “The... thing you’re wearing is called a
S’suumea
?”

“Yes. This is the formal
S’suumea
; Daahn insists on the formal version. It’s the traditional dress of a Xxanian male.” Mac stripped off his boots and socks, then his trousers and underwear, leaving himself nude beneath the
S’suumea
.

“Insists for whom?”

“His descendants. He’ll likely try to talk you into it. Hell, he’ll demand it if I know the old buck, and I do.” Mac shot him a sly grin. “Remember you cursing me out?”

Evan nodded.

“May be the time to pull that out on Daahn.”

“Check. I’ll keep that in mind, but if he pisses me off before that, all bets are off.” He meant it to be a joke, but the recitation was as dry as his throat.

Mac smoothed his
S’suumea
. “Don’t back down. If you say something and back down, Daahn will see it as a weakness.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Zondra is Daahn’s
gran-vvaash
— his granddaughter — but she is your mate. You are the head of your own nest. This is his nest, and he will try to order you.”

“Can he?” Evan asked nervously.

Mac chuckled darkly. “That is up to you. As Zondra’s mate, Daahn finds himself — for the first time in her life — not in complete control of the particulars of her life. Do you intend to give him that control willingly?”

Evan fisted his hands beneath Zondra’s sleeping body. “No fucking way.”

“Right answer.”

The discussion temporarily ended, Mac opened the door at the far side of the room. Behind it was an indoor garden. The air was hot and moist, and the smells of green, growing things and spice were pungent.

There were few walls separating the inside of the huge structure, and the roof was farther overhead than seemed right. He wondered if the changing room had been built on a gradual slope, but there was no way to be sure without using a level.

Evan could see through the first few doorways and wondered if there were blast doors installed to drop during invasion, compartmentalizing the structure. It was likely. He’d heard Xxanian warriors believed in defensible homes.

Here and there, columns emerged from thick stands of bushes or trees and reached for the heights. The structure was deeper than it had looked from the front. Evan had assumed it was no more than four rooms deep, but it seemed he’d underestimated it.

By far.

Evan bit back a moan of pleasure at the moss beneath his feet. It was softer than carpet, lush, and soothing. For a man who’d spent the better part of twelve years sucking oil and scrubbed air and walking on deck plates, it was a slice of paradise.

Daahn knows how to live.

Dripping water and insect noises put him instantly at ease. If there were fans, he couldn’t hear them. He understood now why Zondra had brought the fountain with her onto the ship. The sound of machinery must have been intolerable for her.

The floor sloped down at a twenty-degree or so angle. In the space of three large room lengths, they were a full story underground and still descending. Evan hadn’t been able to see the far reaches of the building, but he suspected the tunnels might extend past the outer walls. There was no way to be sure. The tunnels twisted and turned, winding through more garden caves. A set of rock stairs led up, and Evan peered into the darkness. If he had to guess how deep they’d come, his best estimate would be about three stories below ground.

“The sleeping chambers,” Mac informed him. “Though family members can choose to sleep in the center nest, sometimes a little privacy and human comforts go a long way.”

Evan filed that information away for later use. “Do you have a sleeping chamber?”

He smiled. “I am family. I’ll probably sleep here tonight.”

The next cavern was at least ten meters high and twice that width, with what appeared to be a natural pool in the center. The water wall at the far side certainly wasn’t natural. Evan suspected much of the cavern had been built and not discovered as it was.

Movement caught his eye, and Evan looked around. Aleeks closed from one direction, and a hairless man that was probably Zondra’s
seir
from the other. Both wore the formal
S’suumea
.

Where is Daahn?
The hair on the back of his neck rose, and Evan whirled around to face the Grea Elder.

The fucker was huge, easily half a meter taller than Evan was. He was wider, too. Evan’s best estimate was that the elder weighed in at no less than two hundred and twenty kilos of green-black scales, with eight-centimeter-long talons on the tips of his digits.

Rumbles and hisses left Daahn’s mouth, and Mac answered them. A different set emerged from the elder.

Aleeks appeared at Evan’s shoulder. “He has welcomed you to the nest. Thank him.”

“Thank you for offering us a safe place.” He meant it.

Daahn’s ridge plates extended, and his frill spikes fanned out around his head and shoulders. Evan could fully understand why the first troops who had faced Xxanian warriors in battle pissed themselves.