Page 36 of Matched to the Alien King
He was as good a reason to hurry as any.
After tracing my toes through the warm sand to find the outline of the trapdoor, I quickly cleared it off and opened it without a creak. Sweat and the chemical, plastic-y smell of bureaucratic red tape wafted out. A metal ladder led about thirty feet below to a well-lit tunnel.
I left my heels in the sand and started the climb down, pulling the trapdoor closed behind me. A large glowing red button was affixed to the underside of it, and one press of my thumb sent a shudder over the top to shift the sand back and hide the door once again.
Space Fleet spared no expense when it came to war.
The lower I sank, the more people and shadows I saw moving through headquarters. A bolt of panic lit up my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I belonged here.
So why did it feel like I didn’t? My sparkly dress? That I’d come here without the weapon? The fact that my employer might have been involved somehow with Maxx’s assassin?
I leaped the rest of the way to the earthy ground and discovered two narrow hallways branching off from the one I was in and a small side room behind me. Pipes and wire mesh stretched down the carved-out walls and ceiling for support.
A crowd of boisterous males crossed the intersection, heading straight and away from me. Still too close though. Alarms blared inside my head, and I rushed into the side room to keep hidden.
Stupid. I was being so stupid. There was no reason to be afraid. I’d been putting groups of males in their place since day one of military school when I throat-punched one and threatened to castrate the others.
With my fingernails.
In the dead of night on some unknown date in the future.
While they were strapped to the steel slab in my dungeon.
The one I’d throat-punched had told me to bend over after stealing my e-pencil and purposefully dropping it, and the others had laughed.
After my show of violence and threats, they never messed with me again, thanks in part to my dad who’d taught me at an early age how to throw a punch, and my mom who’d taught me to take no shit from boys.
Ah, memories. I’d been fourteen then and maybe a tad extra.
Afterward, the superintendent of the school, one of the few adults I’d actually kind of liked other than my parents, had said, “Nera Cotrobin, comin’ in hot!”
It felt like I was coming in hot now too. But why was I freaking the fuck out? Was it my bare feet? The lack of a uniform?
The small side room was actually a small medical bay to treat injuries that couldn’t wait right after arrival. Inside a few drawers were fresh uniforms.
Jackpot.
As fast as I could, I changed into a too-big Space Fleet uniform complete with combat boots. Much, much better than heels. Oh my god, my feet were practically sighing.
I stashed the dress and then, feeling much more like myself, went in search of Avery.
It took exactly one left turn to find her.
“Captain!” She waved at the end of a long, crowded hallway, her slicked-back blonde hair shining in the fluorescents.
We pushed and shoved and practically traded spit with others on our way closer to each other.
“Quick, in here.” She pushed open a door and ushered me inside a small office with holographic maps of Klio-3 decorating the walls and desk. “You came at the right time.”
“I did?”
“We’re getting ready to do another assault on the Faid which is why everyone’s so loud and vibrating.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear them,” I said, peering closer at one of the maps. “Is this accurate?”
“Well...yeah. It’s Klio-3.” She waved at a topographical one to my right. “See all the pointy rock formations that contributed to your landing problems?”
How could I forget? “But…where’s the ocean and beaches and the jungle?”
