Hotbloods 6: Allies

Bashrik nodded. “Putting on our surrender lights and setting a course for our inevitable demise.”

I wanted to get out of this cockpit and find a place to hide, not from the Fed but from the disapproving looks of my crewmates. Yes, I’d been reckless in stealing the compass, but I refused to give up hope that it would take us to Lauren and the notebook. And when it did, I prayed this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach would go away.

Looking dead ahead, a breath caught in the back of my throat, my chest tight, I watched as we approached this new port-planet of Wander. It was small and blue, with marbled green and white across the surface, looking just like a miniature version of Earth. Although I’d been away from home for a long time, I’d never felt as homesick as I did in that moment, viewing Wander through the windshield. It was like seeing a familiar landmark on the final stretch to your front door… only we were still light-years away from home.

“Making our descent,” Bashrik said, sounding like an airline pilot.

I looked up at the shifter, who was picking at his elbow folds, humming the words to Whitney Houston. “Mort, when we land, can you pretend to be one of Brisha’s soldiers?” I asked hopefully. “You can tell the Fed officer that there’s been a misunderstanding of some sort, and we’ve been given this vessel for an exploratory mission—something like that?”

He pulled a face. “I’d rather pretend to be a Sonoran and tell them you’ve taken me from a lunar farm,” he muttered. “Or maybe I’ll masquerade as a wealthy regent and tell them you’ve kidnapped me and are holding me for ransom!”

“Mort, please do this for us! You might be the only chance we have of getting out of here without being clapped in cuffs.”

He grinned, waggling his bald brows. “I don’t mind cuffs, in the right setting.”

“I’m being serious, Mort. You’re the only one who can get us out of this.”

He paused, for what I was fairly sure was meant to be dramatic effect, before flicking out his fleshy hands. “Fine, I’ll do it. I shall coldblood up one last time,” he said, relenting. “Although, I’m warning you now, I’m too hungry to hold on to a different form for long.”





Chapter Three





We landed on a stretch of open, grassy plain that had been turned into a repair shipyard and was filled with dilapidated vessels of all shapes, sizes, and origins. A chain-link fence ran around the perimeter, but there weren’t many people about, only weary-looking mechanics smeared in dirt and oil. They wandered around the place, ripping panels and parts from the worst-looking ships and piling them into wagons.

The Fed ship was still descending, but I was already standing on solid ground, waiting for everyone else to come out of the hatch. A figure strode down the gangway behind me. My eyes went wide with fear, and I staggered back in shock as Pandora approached.

“What the hell, Mort? You nearly gave me a heart attack!” I hissed, clutching my chest as realization dawned.

“You like it?” Mort purred. “I’m especially enjoying these.” He cupped his newly forged boobs, jiggling them in such a way that I didn’t know whether to slap him or laugh. Somehow, it made the way he looked seem marginally less frightening.

“Why did you have to choose that form, out of every coldblood in the universe?” I asked, shaking my head in despair.

He grinned with Pandora’s lips. “She’s the coldblood I know best from Brisha’s side of things. After the near-miss with Captain Splatter, I thought it best to go with someone I’ve seen properly before. It’ll be more convincing this way, trust me.”

I grimaced at the mention of Commander Korbin. “Can you not call him that? Have some respect for the dead.”

“Still too raw? I guess it wasn’t too long ago you were still finding little bits of him in your hair.”

“Anyway, I thought we agreed I wasn’t going to trust you,” I replied, ignoring his comment, though I could feel a shiver of disgust running up my spine at the memory. “I trust you even less now that you look like her. How do you even know what she looks like?”

Mort shrugged. “She was always popping up on Orion’s monitors, chatting about something or other,” he explained, taking up his position next to me, changing his voice so it matched the flat, cold tone of Pandora herself. “What’s the matter? This bringing up some bad memories? You remembering how it felt when you—”

“Stop it!” I growled, flashing him a warning look. The others were coming down the gangway to join us, looking just as horrified as I had upon seeing Mort as Pandora, though they quickly covered their surprise as the Fed ship touched down with a hiss of its engines. I didn’t want to hear another word out of Mort’s new mouth, or any of his mouths for that matter.

The hatch in the side of the Fed ship opened, and an officer walked toward us. He was dressed in a smart uniform of maroon military fatigues, with a beret-like hat of the same color angled on his head. The clothes contrasted starkly with the shimmering tone of his pale blue-and-silver skin, which covered his body in interchangeable stripes, like the ripples of an ocean tide. He was bald, aside from the hat, with two conch-shaped protrusions, one on either side of his head, which I presumed were his species’ version of ears. There were three sets of gill slits, too—two running up the sides of his neck, and a narrow train of indentations along the front of his throat, which opened and closed every few seconds. As he came to a halt in front of us, I found it almost impossible not to stare at them.

“Criminals, I would like to introduce myself as Agent Xiphio,” he announced, putting his hands on his hips. His voice was clipped and oddly British-sounding, but far posher than anything that came out of a coldblood mouth.

Realizing how rude I was being by staring at his gills, I looked up, only to find that he had the most mesmerizing blue eyes. They looked like two whirlpools, standing out from a very aquatic face. His nose was almost indiscernible above a pair of full, fish-like lips. However, his smile was a bright white, his teeth strangely humanoid. If my heart hadn’t been thundering in my chest, I was pretty sure I’d have been struggling with a giggle. I mean, there was definitely something handsome about him in a curious kind of way, but he took some getting used to.

Mort stepped forward in his Pandora disguise. “Agent Xiphio, there seems to have been a misunderstanding about the status of our ship,” he said, his voice sending a chill through me. “This vessel wasn’t stolen from Vysanthe. It is being used on official royal business for Queen Brisha.”

“And who might you be?” Xiphio asked, lowering his voice as if to act tough, which was pretty difficult considering he sounded like Mr. Darcy.

“I am Pandora, Queen Brisha’s advisor, and you are preventing us from continuing our reconnaissance mission related to the current war, which you have no doubt heard of?”

“Yes, a nasty business from what I hear,” Xiphio replied, pulling a disapproving face that he quickly covered, evidently not wanting to show any bias toward the state of the coldblood planet. “If what you say is true, we shall soon have all of this ironed out. Regardless, I will have to go through with standard procedure. I can’t have you zipping off on your exciting adventure without checking the details. That just isn’t the Federation’s way, I’m afraid.” He chuckled to himself, seeming friendly enough. Maybe we’d actually get away with it.

I turned to steal a glance at Navan, but he was already staring pointedly at Bashrik and Ronad, the three of them sharing a baffled look.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the Agent Xiphio, would you?” Navan asked hesitantly, turning back to the Fed officer.

Xiphio puffed out his chest with pride, his gills flapping rapidly. “So, you’ve heard of me?”