Page 43 of Pact with the Alien Devil

The shot struck Raxin in the shoulder, burning through armor and flesh. He roared in pain and lurched away from Korvan—exactly the opening Korvan needed. In a blur of movement, Korvan reversed their positions. His claws sliced through Raxin’s defenses, leaving deep gouges in the traitor’s chest and throat.

Raxin crumpled to the floor.

Korvan stood over him, bloodied but unyielding. “Traitors don’t get second chances.”

For a heartbeat, the entire depot fell silent. Then chaos erupted again as the remaining mercenaries realized their leader had fallen.

Korvan staggered back to me, helping me to my feet despite his own wounds. We retreated behind the barricade once more.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Nice finish,” I replied.

But our momentary victory changed nothing. More mercenaries poured in, filling the spaces left by their fallen comrades. We were out of traps, out of ammo, and out of time. Plasma bolts rained down around us, forcing us back against the depot’s reinforced door. I glanced at Korvan. He was pale, his movements sluggish. He wouldn’t last much longer. Neither would I.

Despite his Vinduthi healing abilities, the accumulated damage was too much. I’d seen how quickly he could recover from a single wound, but this was different—multiple plasma burns, blood loss, and continuous fighting without rest had overwhelmed even his enhanced physiology. His body couldn’t keep up with the damage, and it showed in every labored movement.

He needed medical help, now. And there was no way we were going to get it.

The mercenaries advanced for the kill—then froze as a deafening roar filled the depot. The ceiling trembled. Dust and debris rained down.

“What—” I began.

The roof imploded. Through the massive hole descended a combat shuttle, weapon systems fully engaged. Its first salvo cut through the mercenaries’ front line, scattering the rest.

When the loading ramp dropped, five Vinduthi warriors emerged, led by a figure I recognized immediately from the rumors that flew across Thodos III. Alkard. The leader of the Fangs moved with deadly grace, his every step radiating lethal purpose.

“You dared to attack my people?” Alkard’s voice filled the depot. “You dared to betray the Fangs? Allow me to show you the consequences of such poor decisions.”

The Vinduthi spread out with military precision. I recognized Makar from his distinctive build, dropping into position near the east entrance and quickly setting what looked like proximity mines. Another—Havek, I guessed—worked on a portable terminal, his fingers flying over the interface.

Everyone on Thodos knew Alkard’s inner circle. Stories stuck to them like shadowmarks—half warning, half awe.

A mountain of a Vinduthi who could only be Razov charged directly into a group of mercenaries, sending bodies flying. From the shuttle’s ramp, a slimmer figure—Tazhr—picked off fleeing enemies with methodical precision.

Korvan straightened beside me. Despite his wounds, he grabbed his weapon. “Come on.”

I nodded. This was my fight too, now.

Together we rejoined the battle, fighting alongside the Fangs. The tide turned completely—mercenaries who moments ago thought victory assured now fought desperately for escape.

None made it out.

When the last enemy fell, an unnatural quiet settled over the depot. Alkard surveyed the carnage, then turned his attention to us. His expression revealed nothing as he approached.

“You’ve done well,” he said, his gaze moving between Korvan and me. “But this isn’t over. Whoever orchestrated this attack will pay.”

He turned to his men, issuing rapid orders to secure the perimeter and gather any intelligence. Korvan sagged against me, his strength finally giving out. The anti-healing compound was beginning to wear off, allowing his natural regeneration to slowly resume, though the process remained sluggish.

“You saved me,” he murmured. “Again.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I said, trying to mask my concern with humor.

The moment between us stretched, intimate despite the chaos around us. Then Alkard approached, his piercing gaze locked on us both.

KORVAN

Istood among the remnants of destruction, my body protesting with each breath. The acrid smell of plasma discharge burned my nostrils, and scorched metal mingled with the metallic tang of blood. Mercenary corpses sprawled across the depot floor, their weapons scattered uselessly beside them.

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