Discovered (A Galactic Battle Series Book 2)

by L H Whitlock

  “Why? Did he show emotion too?” Alyssa asked.

  “Oh no. Heng kept Synthnic for himself. To build, to create, but he was discovered, you see, and thrown away.”

  Brock grunted, a feeling of unease resting on his shoulders. Synthnic, why would he need Synthnic?

  “Ah! We are here! We are here!” Nadia jabbed the rod into the water, bringing the vessel to a jolting halt. She retrieved a board from the side of the float and laid it between the two floating structures. Nadia hobbled across it, her gait awkward and tilted. Brock looked at the wood tentatively before groaning and placing a timid step to test his weight.

  Nadia waved at them, ushering them forward. Alyssa darted past Brock, pranced over the plank, landed on the other end in a ta-da stance, and immediately ducked around the side of the wooden hut.

  “Hmh,” Bixom said. “You got your hands full, I see.”

  Brock turned and glared at the young Hilian. “She’s just… lively, is all,” he mumbled. Sure, a little thing like Alyssa had no problem crossing the beam, but a full grown man like himself? Well, that was a different story.

  The air couldn’t seem to decide if it was cold, hot, or muggy, but settled somewhere between the three. Sweat ran down Brock’s face, dripping off his beard, and a sheen of moisture coated his body, trapped between his skin and the slender suit. But, just when he thought he would burn up, he shivered as a chill washed over his spine, making his muscles tighten and skin goosebump. Isn’t this thing supposed to have a climate setting?

  As he crossed the plank, he felt the weight of a sea of eyes, though each time he turned to look there was no one there.

  Bixom pulled up closely behind him. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he whispered.

  Brock grunted. “I’ve got the same damn feeling.”

  “Come. Come. Heng waits.” Nadia ushered them with a quick wave of her hand. Alyssa came around the corner holding a rusted, discarded arm. She held it up to Brock, tilted her head, and then tossed the appendage over her shoulder. It landed in the filmy water, bobbed for a moment, and then sank beneath the surface.

  Brock raised a brow.

  “Don’t you worry,” Alyssa grinned. “I’ll get you an arm. There’s plenty down here. All I need is to find one that is about the right size. Then I can cut it down and re-wire it.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Alyssa grinned and Nadia cleared her throat. Brock stepped ahead of Alyssa and entered the hut.

  The hut, like the structure it sat upon, was designed using an assortment of material. It appeared so haphazardly made that Brock feared it would collapse. The walls inside were covered in a wire, molding the materials into a dome. Lights that had been strung along the ceiling glowed dimly, though how this place had working electricity Brock couldn’t be sure. A fire in the center of the hut crackled and bounced its golden light along the walls.

  “Welcome,” greeted a man sitting on a bench around the fire. His form was so eclectic that Brock had previously mistaken him as part of the room itself.

  Brock took a step back, his arm going out to cover Alyssa. Bixom moved up alongside him, ready to defend.

  “Take a seat.” The man motioned with a slight gesture from something that appeared to have once resembled a hand.

  Nadia nodded encouragingly, her smile further wrinkling her face. Brock sat across from the man, and Alyssa sat next to him, crossing her legs beneath her. Bixom remained standing for a moment, weary, but then he took a seat on the other side of Alyssa.

  “I am Heng,” said the man across the fire. The light glinted off his form, though Brock still couldn’t make much sense of it. His face was boxy, with the eyes carved out, leaving two gaping holes. Inside the black pits shone a dim light that Brock could barely make out. Cords and wires resembling hair framed his face, and instead of a nose there was another hole showing his internal wires and gears. A large tunic covered the majority of his body. His forearms were patched together with several different pieces, a mixture of gold, rust, and silver. His head seemed far too large for his shoulders, swallowing his neck.

  Heng studied the trio for several moments before continuing. “What are your charges?”

  “I am from off-world. I was captured by mistake, and after being discovered they recycled me.” Brock looked down and startled, nearly falling back off his seat. A green eye stared up at him from beneath his feet. Swallowing his nerves, he shifted his boot so it covered the artificial iris.

  Heng nodded, his hands rising to hover above the fire. “And you are?”

  “Same,” Bixom responded.

  Heng studied Bixom for several moments before shifting his attention to Alyssa. “And who is the lady?”

  27

  Alyssa shivered despite the fire burning close by. The slender suit clinging to her skin felt cold and damp though she knew the material wasn’t. It had a built-in climate control system, so despite feeling cold, she knew her body temperature was at a normal level.

  “I was cited for an emotional violation,” Alyssa said softly. Her throat stung with dryness and she swallowed, hoping to relieve some of the pain.

  The vast holes of Heng’s eyes seemed to bore into her. Judging and finding her inadequate. “You are old to have no advancements.”

  “I was delayed because of my violations.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She wanted to curl up in Brock’s arms. She didn’t know why, as she had never desired to touch anyone before, but she somehow knew that having his arms wrapped around her would make her feel stronger, safer.

  “They’ve gone soft. When I was in service one violation would have gotten me eliminated. It appears they allowed you several.”

  “But it’s understandable to have emotional responses before getting an advancement; it’s a weakness of the flesh. One we all succumb to,” Alyssa defended.

  “Not I,” Heng responded tersely. “Now, what is it you wish to ask?” Heng cupped his hands over the fire and rubbed them together. A mockery or a desire?

  “We need to get back up to the top. My friends are in trouble. I have to warn them,” Brock said.

  “Go to the top?” Heng paused for a brief moment. “We can never go to the top. There’s nothing for us there.”

  “We won’t get caught. We only need a ship. Then we’ll get the hell off this damn planet.”

  A sound similar to a scoff came from Heng’s open mouth. “It is not negotiable.”

  “They don’t belong here,” Alyssa interjected. “They’re from another world; they deserve to be with their families.”

  “No one shall go to the top.”

  “Listen, we have to. You’re not being reasonable,” Brock said, his voice rough.

  “As I said, it is not negotiable.” Heng’s voice came out deep, raspy, scary. Silence passed over the fire, seemingly sucking the oxygen from the air. “Now,” Heng said, his cadence returning to normal. “You will be given refuge for the night. In the morning, you will build your own hut.”

  Brock’s hand clenched in his lap. Alyssa smoothed her fingers over his knuckles.

  “Thank you.” Alyssa nodded and stood. Brock and Bixom followed her lead, neither looking back until they were out of the hut.

  Nadia smiled at them as they stepped outside. “I’ll lead you to your hut. You get some rest.” Nadia wobbled ahead of them, creaking and jolting the boards as she went.

  “Fuck,” Brock mumbled, his fists tight at his sides.

  “We will scout tomorrow while we are collecting material,” Bixom whispered, “There has to be a way back to the top.”

  “I don’t know,” Alyssa said, licking her lips. “If they catch you… It’s safer just to be down here for a while. It may not be so bad.”

  Bixom scoffed. “You want to stay in this place? The Developers are trying to destroy my people, for no reason at all, and you are fine condoning their actions?”

  “I never said that! And keep your voice down.” Alyssa stepped tentatively over a metal
slab, her weight causing it to pop beneath her feet. “Maybe there is a reason behind the Developers taking back Aray—”

  Bixom whirled around. “You dare!” He roared much too loudly. “You dare defend them?”

  Alyssa’s heart slammed in her chest. “But I… I—”

  Thankfully Nadia interrupted, “These two are yours. Sleep deep.” Bixom stormed off and entered the second hut, leaving Brock and Alyssa alone.

  Brock entered and peeked out of the curtain for several moments before shutting it and turning to Alyssa.

  “Listen, Alyssa,” Brock began, but then stopped as he quickly examined the room. “Bixom’s right. I know this is all really hard, but the Developers aren’t good people.”

  Alyssa walked over to a bed designed out of a thin, stained mattress with two sleeping shirts sitting on top. Sighing, she reached behind her back and unzipped the slender suit. She wanted nothing more than to get the clinging, cold outfit off. Normally, she would just switch into her sleeping outfit, but the Developers had taken their RABs and that was how the change was controlled. She slid the suit around her waist, reveling in the feeling of air washing over her exposed skin. It was chilly, yet stuffy, but still a huge improvement. She wiggled out of the suit and hung it over the bed to dry.

  Brock cleared his throat, and Alyssa turned to look at him. His face was flushed red, his eyes half-lidded and his arm dangling stiffly.

  “What?” she asked, not quite ready to get into it with him. “Just hold on a minute and I’ll be ready, no reason to be impatient.”

  “I’m not being impatient,” Brock growled. “You can’t just drop your clothes in front of people like it’s nothing. You’re going to drive me crazy.”

  Alyssa lifted the shirt over her head. It hung to the top of her knees and was soft and warm. Just being out of the stifling fabric of the slender suit eased her nerves.

  She sat on the bed and looked up at Brock. He still wore the slender suit; it clung to him, embracing his every contour.

  “People changing attire makes you go crazy?” She tucked her legs up and leaned on her side.

  Brock scoffed, marched across the room, and yanked the sleeping shirt off the bed. He turned his back to her and reached for the zipper, his hand falling a few inches short. Brock cursed and tried again, but to no avail.

  Alyssa hopped off the bed, grabbed Brock’s zipper, and pulled it down. The material parted, showing off his smooth, dark brown skin, and she followed the valley of his spine. She couldn’t remember ever noticing someone the same way she noticed Brock. She couldn’t even remember what a single one of her patients’ flesh forms looked like. Not in the slightest. In fact, she could only vaguely recall their advancements and only in the prideful way of an artist.

  Brock hesitated and then mumbled a thank you. He pulled the suit down, wobbling slightly as he lifted his legs out. He stood in his boxers, his back still to her, and with a flex of his muscles he lifted the shirt over his head.

  “No,” Brock finally responded, turning to find her still looking at him.

  Embarrassment flushed Alyssa’s skin, bringing with it a sense of insecurity and doubt she wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Never had she been worried about how someone felt or if they found her attractive. There had never been any reason. But now all she wanted was Brock’s appreciation. But not only appreciation for her flesh form, also appreciation for her abilities and camaraderie.

  “People undressing don’t make me go crazy. Pretty girls make me go crazy.” Brock paced several steps.

  Emotion swelled and she found herself sheepish of Brock’s approval. Pretty. Her? She wondered what about her would be considered pretty. Was it the length and color of her hair? The shape of her body?

  “Listen, I know the Developers are your people, but they were going to kill you. They still will if they find out about this place down here,” Brock said.

  Alyssa sat on the bed and brushed her fingers through her long black hair. It felt filmy and she wished she had a can of cleansing spray. Another desire she shouldn’t be having: comfort.

  Brock’s words stabbed her. But she knew they were true. No matter how badly she wanted to fit in, she didn’t, and she probably never would. Her own people had disposed of her. But it was her fault. She didn’t abide by the guidelines. She didn’t respect the rules. She was too carefree. She was too… human.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Brock continued. “Why would you follow someone who tried to kill you? Who gave up on you? Who abandoned you?”

  Emotion welled behind Alyssa’s eyes and she blinked them rapidly. “Everything would be fine if I could just—”

  “If you could just, what? If you became like them? If you gave up who you are? The fact is they don’t want you. They got rid of you. You don’t belong with them.”

  Alyssa brushed her hand across her face. She knew he was right. It had been that way for a long time. But who did she belong with? Where was she going to go now? Would she have to live in this place forever?

  Brock paced across the room, his stern face softening. He sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her until her face rested against his chest. She struggled against his hold, but gave up as he rubbed his hand down her back.

  “I only know that these people tried to kill you, and they tried to kill Bixom and me too. They killed hundreds and betrayed the Hilians and the Renegade.”

  Alyssa took a deep breath, drinking in the smell of Brock, a smell of natural masculinity and muted cologne. Her mind was foggy and she was too exhausted to think. She pushed against the expanse of Brock’s chest and he unraveled his arms.

  Brock sighed heavily. “I’m sorry—”

  “No, you’re right. I can’t go back, I just don’t know where to go now.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  Too emotional to continue the conversation, Alyssa lay on the bed. The lights woven along the top of the hut didn’t shut off but casted a never-ending dull glow over the room. It wasn’t enough to disturb sleep, but enough to trick the mind into not knowing what time it was. She tried to distract herself by attempting to follow the tangle of cords but kept getting lost in the maze.

  Brock sat on the edge of the bed. He sighed and looked at her for several moments, but when his mouth parted to say something Alyssa turned onto her side, displaying her back to him. Brock didn’t move, then he grumbled and lay on the small bed, his back pressing against hers.

  She listened to his soft snores as she tried to fall asleep, but her mind kept wandering. She wasn’t sure what to think or even who she was at this point. Her eyes studied the details of the wall, following the mishmash of discarded metal and tarnished plastic. Light glinted off an object. She leaned forward for a closer look and found a prosthetic eye staring back at her.

  She turned away but it bore through her. Nuzzling against Brock’s back, she finally slipped into a dream, but even in the mistiness of sleep she felt the glass eye boring into her, looking deeper and deeper.

  28

  Brock wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep. All he knew was that he was hot and there was a leg twisted with his, a soft female leg. Fuck. He mentally groaned. Nothin’ like waking up to a hard-on that wasn’t going to get any attention. He peeked at Alyssa and was about to get up when she snuggled against him. He released a sigh. This situation seemed familiar and, if he remembered correctly, it hadn’t ended well last time.

  Brock closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her against him, her long legs draped over his, her hot breath against his chest and her arm across his body. Gods, he could get used to this. He found the rhythm of his breath matching hers, lulling him back to sleep.

  “Hey, you two going to get up and help me build this damn hut?”

  Alyssa jolted upright. Brock groaned and glanced over at Bixom, who was standing in the doorway. He wore his slender suit and held a slab of metal.

  “Morning, Bixom, we were just getting up.” Gods, he hated Hi
lians.

  “Whatever you say, Stiffy. I just do not want to be left building this shelter alone.”

  “Stiffy?” Alyssa questioned.

  “He’s just being an asshole.”

  “Hah! Put that thing away and get dressed.” The Hilian rustled a hand through his brown hair, giving himself a young, boyish look.

  Brock gritted his teeth and got to his feet before Alyssa could question him further. He was beginning to prefer Ulrick over this douche bag, and he really couldn’t stand Ulrick. “All right, all right, I’ll be right out. Just hang on a second.”

  Brock snatched his slender suit off the floor where he had left it and struggled to get his legs inside. He managed to get his right leg, but stumbled as he tried to fit his left foot into the tight fabric. Alyssa caught him around the waist and helped him balance himself. She tugged the fabric up his legs and helped him get it zipped up. He tried to ignore the light touches of her fingers as they brushed against his calves, his thighs, his waist, and he was successful at controlling his feelings until the tips of her fingers brushed against the length of his spine. He shivered against the feather-light, unintentional caress, and another wave of heat made its way to his groin. Yes, he was sure this was the way he was going to die.

  The desire to tangle his fingers in Alyssa’s hair and crush his lips to hers blinded him, and with the intention of doing just that he turned to face her, but lost his ability to perform when he found her, once more, in her underwear and bra. Her back was to him and she was bending over, displaying a perfect, smack-able ass. A groan escaped his lips and he found himself frozen, his eyes locked on her. She slipped one long leg into the slim fabric, then the other, and with a slight wiggle she pulled the jumpsuit over creamy thighs and the luscious curve of her ass. Brock followed the fabric as it lingered at the base of her spine and his entire body nearly trembled with want.

  “Will you zip me up?”

  Brock shook the fog out from behind his eyes and glanced up at Alyssa. He swallowed nervously. “Sure, er, sure.” Instead of his normal deep voice, he got a raspy, longing tone. Gods, pull yourself together.