Chapter 15

Chigs scrubbed a hand over his scalp, emotions and desires ricocheting through his mind like enemy crossfire. "Of course," he agreed hoarsely.

He was supposed to be finding his mate, not fooling around with Emmy. But duty and logic did nothing to remove his desire.

Emmy took several unsteady steps back and plunked down in the other nav-grav seat, buckling herself in without glancing his way again. The final burn and short remainder of their carrier ride was made in near silence, and by the time they reached the small spaceport on Jarboa, Emmy'd resumed her former aloof persona.

It was nighttime when they arrived, and beyond the running lights of the cargo ship, the austere landing pad was lit only by a single tall post with a bulb of sickly orangish light glowing at its apex. Chigs grabbed their luggage and led the way through the shadows toward a dilapidated hangar at the other edge of the tarmac. Doug had acquired a small, undocumented shuttle off the dark web so Chigs could discretely fly them to meet the Icarus.

Shoving the hangar door aside with a teeth-grating screech, Chigs grimaced at the sight of a vessel that looked like it had come from the same dump as the nav-grav seats in the cargo carrier. The nose was slightly buckled, and the under panels near the thrusters were dark and sooty. He'd only piloted solo a handful of times, and this bucket of rust barely looked space-worthy.

Not wanting Emmy to worry, he entered the code to the hatch and stowed the luggage in stoic silence before assuming the pilot's seat. Emmy had already buckled into the co-pilot seat and sat with her head back and her eyes closed, obviously exhausted from the final burn on the cargo ship.

Reminded of why she'd chosen to endure that awful nav-grav seat, he set his jaw and ignored the acid burning in his stomach, focusing on his flight check. After going over the system three times, he finally lifted them off the tarmac with a teeth-rattling thrust. By the time they set down in the Icarus's shuttle bay and Chigs opened the hatch, he was in no mood to see Tovik sprinting toward them.

"You're back!" Tovik shouted, his bare feet slapping across the deck. "Did you get the information? I want to hear all about Aleigh."

"Later, kid. I'm tired."

Tovik leaned to peer around Chigs into the shuttle. "Where's Emmy? Oh, there she is!" Tovik elbowed past Chigs to offer her an arm. "Assirpaa! You look beat."

Chigs reined in his urge to grab Tovik by the scruff and toss him from the shuttle. The mission was over; playing the part of a possessive husband was no longer his duty. But his aching hearts and churning stomach argued differently.

"I see the disguise is still working," called Emilryde from the base of the shuttle ramp.

Chigs realized his holo-projector was still running and quickly turned it off, jerking the chain from his neck and stalking down the ramp. He thrust the projector toward the cyborg. "Like a charm."

Emilryde accepted it with a confused look, but more crew members had arrived and began peppering Chigs with questions. He answered tersely, keeping an eye on Emmy as Tovik escorted her from the shuttle. She joined the crew, smiling and laughing, apparently getting a second wind. Even so, Chigs sensed tension in the way she held herself, and got the feeling she was making an effort not to look at him.

Rust thudded through the crowd, cybernetic gaze focused on Emmy, and Chigs scowled, preparing to step in. The cyborgs were okay as a whole, but Rust could turn volatile for no apparent reason.

"Here." Rust held a small wrapped box toward Emmy and muttered something Chigs couldn't understand.

Emmy's face lit up, and she accepted the gift, placing a hand on Rust's forearm in a way that made Chigs wonder if she and Rust were in a relationship—or if Emmy was in a relationship with anyone else, for that matter. He'd never thought to inquire, but the mere idea made him grit his teeth.

A cybernetic hand settled on his shoulder. "So, where's the chip?" Doug asked.

Chigs dug into his pocket and handed him the small chip, feeling guilty that he hoped the data was corrupted. "Here. Sure hope that Dafari guy isn't taking us for a ride."

Doug nodded. "I'll get to decrypting it immediately."

"You're probably starving," Twerp called over the rumble of conversation, rolling back and forth noisily on her treads. "I've been practicing my cooking skills if anyone would care to join me in the mess hall."

Chigs was too pent up with frustration to eat. Exhausted as he was from the turn-and-burns, he needed to blow off some steam. He shrugged off the invitation and headed for the sparring gym.

His boots echoed against the metallic floor as he strode down the corridor, trying to shake off his mood. He tried reminding himself he should be happy they were one step closer to rescuing his mate. But it was impossible to care for someone he'd never even met when his feelings were so wrapped up in Emmy.

He reached the sparring deck and found it empty. The mats were worn from years of combat practice, and frayed punching bags hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the recycled air. Chigs walked over to the weapons rack and chose a staff, testing its balance.

He'd always liked this place, had always found solace in focusing solely on the physicality of fighting. He needed that release now more than ever as he grappled with his conflicting emotions. Duty bound him to the divine message of Ellam Cua. But how was he supposed to fall in love with another woman when his heart longed for Emmy?

"You gonna hit something or just stand there and brood?" Kashatok's voice broke Chigs from his reverie.

Turning, he saw his tall, bearded friend leaning against a second weapon rack, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. How long had Kashatok been standing there? "Hit something," Chigs said, swinging his staff. "Want to volunteer?"

Kashatok laughed and picked up a staff of his own. "I dare you to try, iluq."

They squared off, and Chigs launched into a series of strikes, whipping the staff through the air. Each crack against Kashatok's parry vibrated through his hands, easing the tension in his shoulders. But no amount of exertion could quiet the dilemma in his head.

Kashatok landed a blow against the back of his hand, leaving Chigs's knuckles throbbing. "Where's your mind?" asked his friend. "It's obviously not in this fight."

Chigs spun, attempting to sweep Kashatok's feet out from under him. His friend knew him too well. "This mission has me questioning everything."

Using a burst of ionic power, Kashatok leaped over Chigs's attack, landing nimbly against the mat. "This is about Emmy, isn't it?"

"I can't get her out of my mind." Chigs bared his teeth and surged forward with a series of blows that drove Kashatok backward. "Why did Ellam Cua send me on a mission with a female who diverts me from it?"

Kashatok ducked and rolled, surging back to his feet to face Chigs with a raised brow. "Our trickster god isn't always clear. Perhaps your destiny isn't as straightforward as you thought."

Chigs lowered his staff, frowning. "What are you saying?"

"Don't throw away a chance at happiness because you think it's not part of some grand design." Kashatok clasped his shoulder. "Follow your heart, my friend. That's the only destiny that matters."

The ship's com beeped, and Doug's voice echoed through the room. "I need everyone to meet me in the war room right now."

Kashatok set his staff back in the rack and tilted his head toward the door. "Sounds like we have some women to rescue."

Chigs put his staff away and trudged down the hall, stewing over the choices in front of him. He knew what his heart wanted, but could he really choose between love and duty? He'd once gone to Emmy for advice. Perhaps it was time to speak with her again. But this time, it wasn't merely advice he'd be asking for.