Page 21 of Sol Survivor

Vaen snorted, then slapped Drafe on the shoulder.“Have Nenn see to your implant.I’ll ensure the ship is prepped.”He paused, tossing a glance over his shoulder.“May Osnir bless your symbiote transfer with the uz, Drafe.Let us pray the servant survives it.”

Drafe stilled.Killing another Ivoyan would not be well received.They…heneeded the uz.The male had to remember something about the events leading up to the explosion.Once Drafe left the hall, he summoned his armor, relishing the excited buzz from his symbiotes.Trailing Nenn along the wide, ostentatious passages of the Q.C.C., he ignored the lilac sunlight creeping through the stained windows.Gold inlaid the stone walls in intricate patterns—a blurring of the seven tribes’ art and history, with images of a giant vasquva, the kind whispered across generations.

He strolled into a med-tech ward to where Nenn gestured to a chair.Drafe lowered himself, obedient for now.Tilting his head, he stared at the instructional signage on the floor-to-wall metal cabinets, not understanding the symbols and not caring to learn.Nenn sprayed something cold across Drafe’s neck, numbing his skin.

The red-orange-haired male paused to grin at him.“I am excited.To see other stars and species.There is much I can learn.”He leaned closer, dabbed Drafe’s neck, and stepped back, holding a circular temp-device in his palm.“Whore.”

Drafe growled and leaped to his feet.

Nenn threw out a hand.“My apologies, Drafe.That is the only word I know in Ivoy.”

Drafe relaxed his stance.“Then the new nodule works.”

“Good.I assume the uz is awaiting your presence in the transfer chamber?”Nenn arched a brow.

“I assume the same.Until we depart.”Drafe strode out, cupping his neck where the temp-device had been inserted.

Now it was smooth skin if a little numb.His symbiotes remained silent as if they resented what they had to do.This was for Meorri, Qaldreth, and Ivoy.His symbiotes had to comply.Taking the steps into the bowels of the building, he ignored the flickering venai stones casting ripples on the walls.The artwork was still present, carved into the stone but without the gold inlay.He burst into the small chamber and slid onto an S-shaped solid stone table alongside the uz sprawled on his own.The stiff male widened his eyes when he glanced at Drafe.

Compelled to speak, Drafe met his black gaze, hoping to convey a sense of peace.“Have no fear.”

The uz nodded.

“I have explained the process to Vizen Aehort Uz, the opportunity this affords him.”The Jakar’s black markings on his temple stated his role in the priesthood.He pointed at the table with a graceful flick of a finger, the dark gray of his cloak draping his form.“Please extend your arm.”

Between the two tables was a bridge upon which Drafe laid his arm, his gaze fixed on the ceiling studded with venai stones meant to replicate a Qaldreth sky.A glance confirmed the uz had draped his arm parallel to Drafe’s.

A hum started in his core.The sensation was one he had forgotten.The Jakar raised his arms high and droned a low song.Light caught the blade a second before he brought it down, slicing across Drafe and the Uz’s forearms.The pain was negligible.His blood pooled in the small basin at the center of the bridge.The Ivoy’s blood flowed blue.Drafe was taught, if his symbiotes accepted the Ivoy, they would travel along the blue rivulet and enter through the narrow wound.Due to his clear blood not being as visible, he had to contend with watching the Ivoy’s blood roll toward him.

When it entered him, he gritted his teeth, fighting the burn.He hadn’t forgotten about that.

The pain thickened and intensified.His mind roared in agony.Curling his fingers into fists, he forced himself to relax.Fighting the intrusion would make it worse.

The uz whimpered but did not twitch a finger.

Unlike Vadril Ot who had screamed like a pregnant hudu.

The Jakar wrapped a strip of garak leather around their wrists, binding them together.He hummed words, lyrical, nonsensical, as the pain ebbed and flowed and time passed on silent feet.

“It is done.”The Jakar’s words snapped Drafe out of his daze.

He swung his legs over the side, the leather strap and thin wound gone.

The uz did the same while stroking his arm.“I feel…different yet the same.”

“Our thoughts and memories will begin to align.”Drafe forced a smile as exhaustion sapped the last of his strength.“Until one of us dies, Aehort Uz.”

The orange male jerked, stared at Drafe, then nodded.“As you say, Drafe Arrak.”

Chapter Eight

The city of New Westlands

The Ring

At Vic’s deca-match

Vicspitoutblood,staring at it for a second when it pooled on the sand.Her body’s alarms blared warnings she had to ignore—cracked or broken ribs and a gash in her shoulder plastering her red faux-leather vest to her skin.A dull ache replaced the piercing agony, merging with the burn in her ribs.Numbness spread outward, and she would soon lose the use of her arm.

---