Page 81 of Enslak

My heart clenched. "This isn't 'difficult.' This is impossible odds. This is—"

"This is us," she interrupted, grabbing my hand and squeezing hard. "Together."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"And I'm trying to protect you!" Her voice rose, echoing through the trees. "We protect each other, you stubborn, self-sacrificing—" She made a frustrated sound. "I'm not some damsel who needs saving. I'm a cop. I've been in worse situations than this."

"Not against Ulkommenians."

"No, but some of the gangs I came up against in New York would argue they're just as tough as any alien species." A bitter smile crossed her face. "And they wouldn't be far off. The Bratva crew that ran Brighton Beach? They'd cut off fingers for looking at them wrong. MS-13 in Queens? I watched them execute a witness in broad daylight, then disappear like ghosts." She met my eyes. "I've stared down men who had nothing to lose and everything to prove. Men who'd kill me just to send a message. So don't tell me I don't know what I'm up against."

I stared at her—this small, fierce human who'd somehow become my entire world. "You're being irrational."

"I'm being loyal. There's a difference." Her jaw set in that stubborn line I'd learned to love. "Now stop trying to be a martyr and start thinking like a tactician. We're both getting out of this alive, or neither of us is. Those are the only options on the table."

My mind worked through possibilities, analyzing what I'd observed. The ship that had landed—I'd seen it clearly. A smaller transport vessel, the kind that could hold maybe a dozen Ulkommenians at most. I'd counted at least ten distinct voices in the forest behind us, coordinating their search patterns, spreading out in a systematic sweep.

Which meant no more than two remained with their ship.

Two guarding the landing site. Ten hunting us through the forest.

"We can't outrun them forever," I said, the plan taking shape as I spoke. "But maybe we don't have to fight all of them at once."

Niki propped herself up on one elbow, watching me. Her tactical mind was already working—I could see it in her eyes, in the way her expression shifted from exhaustion to sharp focus. "What are you thinking?"

"Their ship landed near ours. In the clearing." I sat up, ignoring my screaming muscles. "A transport that size? Maximum crew of twelve. I counted at least ten voices tracking us through the forest."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Which means only two stayed behind to guard the ships."

"Exactly."

"Our ship is still intact," I said, the certainty settling in my chest. "Still flight-worthy."

Doubt crept across Niki's face. "Enslak, Binwee programmed the autopilot to only get us here."

"I was piloting ships like that when I was a youngling." I grinned as the memory flooded back with startling clarity. My hands on the controls. The feel of the navigation systems responding to my touch. The way the engines hummed when you pushed them just right. "Before they... before everything. I remember."

She processed this, weighing the risks, calculating our odds. Always thinking, always analyzing. It was one of the things I loved about her.

"If we can get to the ship," she said slowly, "and you can actually fly it..."

"Then we have a way out." I reached for her hand, threading my clawed fingers through hers. "But first we have to deal with whoever's guarding it."

I met her eyes, the words tumbling out before I'd fully thought them through. "We hide you somewhere safe. I go back alone, take out the guards, get our ship powered up and ready. Then I circle back for you."

Niki's expression shifted immediately. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw set in that stubborn line—the one that meant she was about to dig in her heels and refuse to budge.

"No," she said flatly.

"Niki—"

"Don't." She sat up fully now, and despite her exhaustion, despite the blood and dirt covering her, she looked fierce. Formidable. "The answer is no."

"It's the smart plan," I said, trying to keep my voice calm even as fear clawed at my chest. The thought of her in a fight, of her getting hurt—or worse—made something primal surge inside me. Something that wanted to lock her away somewhere safe and face the danger alone. "I move faster alone. You wait here, stay hidden, and I come back for you."

"Absolutely not."

"There are only two soldiers at the shuttle. I can handle them."