Page 10 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
Stavian didn’t respond right away. His jaw worked. His eyes stayed locked on hers.
“I’m not the one you should be asking questions about,” she said, softer now, but not gentler. “You’re curious why I’m not falling apart? I’m more curious why you let everyone else work until they collapse.”
“May I remind you that the miners here are convicted criminals,” he said. “Jorr murdered an Axis official. Toval was a spy.”
“I’ve done nothing,” she said quietly. “Aside from having the poor sense to be born into a penal colony.”
Stavian pushed off the console. His pace was slow and steady as he walked to the side of the room. He hit a switch and one of the wall displays blinked dark, then pulled up a rotating feed of more data. It was obvious that he expected her to know what she was looking at. Was he unaware that she couldn’t read any of it?
“I know the system is broken,” he said. “I’m trying to hold it together with repairs that barely hold past one shift rotation.”
“At least you’re making quota,” she said dryly. “The Axis must be pleased.”
He turned to her, silver eyes hot and molten. “Do you think this is the job I wanted? All of this?”
Cerani tilted her head. “I think it’s the one you chose to keep. Every cycle.”
That landed. She saw it in the flex of his jaw. He didn’t argue. Just moved until he stood across from her again.
“I was raised by the Axis. My duty is to them,” he said.
Cerani let out a breath like a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “The riests at my old settlements worshipped the Axis. We bowed to Axis guards when they arrived to take our food. We weren’t allowed to read, of course, but we sang Axis prayers and if we questioned the Axis, the riests would punish us.” Her gaze locked onto his. “You sound like those riests.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t forget your place, Cerani.”
“Oh, I know my place.” Her voice rose as anger bubbled up. “Did you know that under the Axis rule, we didn’t have enough food to adequately feed every child? The Axis took most of the harvest, kept us rationed and starved. My bondmate died from a fever because we didn’t have even the simplest of medicines. You talk about duty while you watch people suffer.” She missed the surprise that moved over his features at mention of her bondmate, as she threw up her hands. “Fek. Why am I even bothering?”
Silence stretched between them. The only sounds left were the low hum of equipment in the room and the crackle of a nearby power relay.
“I care more than you know, Cerani,” he said.
She stood, meeting his gaze without fear. “My designation is 630-I,” she said. “Do not pretend I’m anything more.”
They stared at each other. Long enough that her stomach growled.
Stavian reached behind the central console and pulled something out—compact, gray, unmarked. A ration square. He held it out.
Cerani didn’t take it. “Think that fixes something?”
“No,” he said. “But you’re hungry.”
She was. With an annoyed growl, she reached out and snatched it from his hand. Her gloved fingers brushed his bare ones. Big. Strong. “If only I could eat it with thisfekkingsuit on.”
Stavian didn’t say anything else. He went back to the console and keyed something in. One of the lights beside the door turned green. “You’re clear to return to the barracks,” he said without looking at her. “I’ll summon you again if I have more questions.”
Cerani held back the wordsfekyou, but just barely. She wasn’t even sure why. She had nothing to lose. The radiation might not kill her, but something here would. The Axis had her and she saw no way that they would ever let her go.
FOUR
Stavian
Stavian stood at his console, staring at the blank screen in front of him. The room around him hummed quietly—the sound of machinery running smoothly, the filtered air cycling through vents overhead. Routine sounds. Safe sounds. But none of it touched the chaos turning in his chest.
He felt numb. Not the kind of numb that came after days without sleep or hours bent over logistics reports. Not even the kind he’d trained himself to feel when delivering casualty stats to Central.
This was different. This was worse.
Cerani.
