Page 50 of Meteor Storm

I looked around the room, studying my surroundings, when I saw a familiar little trinket sitting on a stack of boxes near the door. My Buddy. I took a few careful steps to retrieve it and snapped it around my wrist for the first time since I woke up on that asteroid. When the face lit up, I was relieved, but the tiny, flashing notification that there was still no signal killed my spirit a little. Not that I was surprised. I didn’t know where the hell I was and if my Buddy couldn’t connect to the Nexus, that meant I was still pretty damn far away from anything remotely human.

I sighed loudly, drawing Sunhai’s attention. She stepped up behind me, looking over my shoulder as I fiddled with my cuff.

“What exactly does it do?”

“It’s called a Buddy. Everyone on the Nexus has one. It has most of the information we need, but we’re too far for me to send an SOS.”

“SOS?”

“I can’t send for help.”

“Right. Well, at least we not on Mekah. Monrians have very strict rules. They will not hurt us.”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Pek-Tol was killed. Mekah was dismantled.” She shrugged. “They will be going back to the one who holds their contract.”

“Someone was contracted to destroy Mekah?”

“Seems so.”

“I thought they were only hired for war.”

“They hired for whatever pays. They not take contracts that hurt their honor, though. Their codes are precise. Well… some do not follow them, but those are not welcome in colonies. They are bad-bloods.”

“How many monrians are out there, exactly?”

“Cannot say. Enough to make galactic army. Or a hundred. They expensive. Contracts can last many cycles. Even generations.”

I bit my lip, thinking about the conflict with the gek—the green bastards that destroyed the cargo ship I was on and got me into this whole mess in the first place. The Nexus could use a small army of monrian soldiers. Even one could do some damage judging by what I saw on Mekah.

“What do monrians want? I mean, how do they like to be paid?”

Sunhai frowned. “Mostly gold. Gold used in most of their tech.”

Before I could ask anything else, the door to the room slid open and a tall, gray-skinned man walked into the chamber, his pupils shrinking against the lights. He looked similar to Thilar in color and build, but his face was wider with a squared jaw and dark strands of hair braided tightly back. Unlike Thilar, who kept his hair shaved close to the scalp on the sides, this stranger had a full head of hair. He said a few things in his own tongue, glancing at Sunhai for clarification.

“He wants to know how you are feeling.”

“Fine. Considering.”

She translated and the man gave her a curt nod and then turned and left the room again.

“He wants us to follow,” Sunhai said.

The two of us tailed the big monrian through silvery hallways. There weren’t many turns. There were doors lining the passage though as if there were a hundred different chambers. The only one we used was the large door at the very end of the hall that opened into some kind of control room. A circular table dominated the center of the space, crowned by a holographic projection of a galactic map. Constellations shimmered in pale blue light, connected by faint lines and clusters of symbols I couldn't decipher.

I didn't recognize a single constellation.

Even the highlighted regions were unfamiliar, and I'd spent some time studying stellar charts.

We definitely weren't anywhere in space I knew.

On the far side of the table stood Thilar, bathed in the hologram's cool glow. His hair had been braided neatly down the center of his scalp, the intricate pattern far more elaborate than before. He wore a fitted black two-piece uniform that matched the attire of the other monrians. Like mine, it was covered in straps, pockets, and fasteners, but his were arranged with purpose, making mine look improvised in comparison.

And it looked damn good on him.

I had only just woken from what could have easily been my last sleep and I was thinking about how attractive an alien man in a suit was.