Page 62 of Fated to the Dragon Alien

“Stavian—” Talla coughed as smoke poured from her panel. “We’ve got three hostiles closing. One on vector nine is already charging weapons again.”

“Evasive!” Stavian snapped. “Rek’tor, arc us left and—take us through the edge of that debris field!”

“Aye,” Rek’tor barked. He shoved one throttle forward and the ship pitched hard.

Cerani slammed into Stavian’s side and his arm tightened around her. Behind her, Talla braced against her seat as sparks shot from the nav panel. Smoke rolled in heavy waves from the floor vents.

She looked at Stavian. His jaw was locked, eyes scanning the displays. His arm stayed firmly around her waist.

“These weapons can’t punch through their shields,” Jorr muttered. “I’m scratching them. Minor damage only.”

Rinter slammed his palm against a console. “Shields down to nineteen percent. We’re going to start losing hull plating in thirty seconds!”

Stavian growled under his breath. “I need to know, Cerani—do you love me?”

She turned her face toward his. “Yes,” she said as easy as breathing. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He lowered his head for half a beat. She thought he might kiss her, but the moment passed too fast.

A proximity alarm screamed.

“What now?” Jorr yelled, flipping up a safety cap to fire a round—

—But then everything on the screen changed.

“Something huge,” Rinter warned in a hoarse whisper. “Dead ahead.”

Cerani’s mouth dropped open as a dark ship moved into their line of sight—intimidating, silent, and appearing impenetrable. No Axis markers. No coat of arms.

It didn’t look like any ship she’d ever seen, and granted, she hadn’t seen many ships at all. But the crew’s reaction made it clear that this was not a typical vessel one saw in space. It was wide at the base, which was covered in massive thrusters, and more tapered toward the other end. It wasn’t sleek. The matte metal hull had multiple spires jutting from it. It looked more like a building than a ship.

And yet, there was something strangely familiar about it. She couldn’t place it, but seeing it made her skin crawl and her belly twist into knots.

“What thefekis that…” Talla’s voice shook.

Everyone on the bridge, including Cerani, was silent as the massive ship came closer, filling the viewport. The ship moved in fast. At first, she tensed up, thinking it was going to smash into them, but no. It halted abruptly. It was so close, she could see the dark metal was edged in streaks of pulse lighting. Scars marked the hull—burns, gouges, repair patterning that wasn’t Axis. This ship had taken damage. It had fought and survived and now it blocked out everything, looming ominous and dark.

“Routing override incoming,” Rinter said, reading the panel. “We’re being scanned—”

A nauseating vibration passed through the Mirka. Cerani curled her hands into Stavian’s shirt, holding tight.

“They put a locking beam on us,” Rek’tor shouted. “Can’t dislodge it.”

“We’re behind their shields,” Rinter said in a voice far too high-pitched to be passed off as calm. “At least ours are holding now. Fifteen percent. If they want to crush us…”

“They don’t.” Stavian’s voice held a note of awe. He leaned toward the massive viewport as if he could reach out and touch the intercepting ship. “Look,” he said softly.

Cerani pressed closer and watched as the massive ship released bands of golden light that arched out from its hull and attached to the Mirka like tentacles.

“It’s formed a compound lock of shielding around our vessel,” Rinter said in wonder. “It appears to be protecting us from the Axis ships.”

“What thefekis happening?” Jorr asked, clearly baffled. “Should I open fire?”

“Do not fire,” Stavian said without looking away from the viewport. “Jorr, keep your hands off the weapons.”

Jorr lifted both palms in the air, but his voice was dry. “That ship could swallow us without chewing.”

“Rinter,” Stavian said, his brows drawing together, “don’t try to break the tether. Let it hold.”

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