Alex

ALEX

C hohan is a lush, warm place. Part jungle, part pine forest, if pines are several hundred feet tall and a blue/red color. There are a myriad of plants in such varieties it almost makes my head spin. Bright flying creatures flit between the trees and plants, and there is an overwhelming scent, part perfume, part vegetation, all delicious and heady.

I drink it in like a shipwrecked sailor finding fresh water. After my time in various grimy settlements and, of course, the dusty streets of Tatatunga, this is absolute perfection.

I'm glad Sylas chose this place, even if I don't think he knew why he chose it himself.

My massive gladiator is presently attempting to intimidate Haxrix again, something I'd have thought he'd have given up on. She takes no shit, even from a gladiator multiple times her size, and I'm going to miss her.

"What's going on?" I ask, approaching the pair.

"I'm telling the Cirmos not to reveal where she dropped us, on pain of death," Sylas growls.

Haxrix stares at me with blank eyes.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Sylas." I put my hand on his arm. He's vibrating with repressed violence which drops down a notch at my touch. "Haxrix is used to transporting cargo , aren't you?"

I give her a slow nod. She narrows her eyes.

"Cargo, yes. I take it everywhere. Don't ask what's in it," she says rapidly.

Sylas tears his eyes from where he's been looking at Haxrix like he's going to eat her.

"That's good," he says. "I have to protect my mate at all costs."

Haxrix's lips curl up into a cat-like smile.

"Of course," she purrs. Sylas' wings flare, and his brow settles into his worried face for a second or two before resolving into his ‘I'm a big, strong gladiator', all cheekbones and glower.

"I'll transfer the rest of your fee," I tell her.

She flaps her paw at me. "I was glad of the company. You can keep your credits. The big Gryn didn't damage my ship and he was quite entertaining…" She huffs a laugh. "Plus he redecorated, so I'm not complaining."

I wrap my arms around Haxrix. The fur tickles my nose, but if I don't hug her, I will cry. Again.

"Thank you for everything," I say in her furry ear.

"You and the Gryn deserve some good in your lives. I know what they do to gladiators in the dome," Haxrix says as I release her.

She gives Sylas a glare which he returns until her gaze becomes a grin, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Instead he flips his wing tips one over the other, like he's trying to strike a match.

"No one deserves that fate," she adds. "Not even annoying Gryn like you."

"You have met other Gryn?" Sylas fires at her. "Where?"

"Haxrix told me she met Gryn on a space station," I say apologetically. "I meant to tell you."

"On one of the older X-stations. They were passing through, and I had some cargo they were interested in," Haxrix says evenly as Sylas looms over her again. "They looked different to you but the same I suppose. Less interested in tearing things apart, perhaps." Her tail curls around her feet, oblivious to Sylas' hungry gaze.

"Where were they from?" he asks hoarsely. "A farm? Here on Trefa?"

"Oh no!" Haxrix coughs out a laugh. "They were not gladiators, nor slaves. They had their own ships. They were free."

Sylas takes a step back from her. "Free?"

"Free." Haxrix nods. "You are not alone in the galaxy, Gryn."

Sylas quirks up the corner of his mouth, shaking out his feathers and straightening his back.

"Free," he says, partly to himself.

"There's a settlement farther down this track," Haxrix says, pointing down through the vegetation. "I wish you both well. And if you need anything, you don't know me, right?" she says, mounting the steps into her ship with a wink.

Sylas looks very confused.

"No, and you didn't see us ," I reply, elbowing my big gladiator in his hard abdomen.

The confusion clears, and Sylas actually smiles at her. "No, we don't know you, Cirmos. Vrex off," he says genially.

"Possibly overdid it a bit there," I say to him as the ship lifts up and over the canopy of the trees.

Sylas shrugs, his wings heaving with his shoulders. Mirth dances in his dark eyes.

"I want to be sure she'll come back if we need her," he says.

I can't fault his logic.

"Where do we go from here?" I ask.

"I know just the place," Sylas says with a deep rasp. "And I'll fight for it if I have to."