Edge of Eon: Eon Warriors #1

by Hacket, Anna

  Next, Eve added a few PlastiCuff restraints and hoped to hell they were strong enough to hold an enraged Eon warrior. She also checked the small kit that Admiral Barber had given her.

  The small metallic case held three injectors. One was filled with a black, sticky ooze. Her nose wrinkled. Using anything Kantos-related grated on her. But the admiral had assured her that the ooze would contain a helian, which meant an Eon warrior couldn’t use his armor or weapons.

  The second injector held a bright orange fluid. This was the antidote to the ooze. Just one drop would dissolve the ooze away. The third was a clear sedative that Barber told her should knock out an Eon warrior.

  “Should” didn’t fill Eve with much confidence. She tucked the kit into her belt.

  Then she moved to the hatch and opened it. She stared at the black hull of the Desteron and touched it with her gloved hand. It had a faint, scale-like pattern.

  Her gut cramped. Just like it was rumored the Eon warriors’ armor had. God, please don’t let the hull be part alien symbiont. If it was, they’d already know she was there.

  But so far, it appeared she was undetected. She pulled out her BurnCutter, the small device sitting in the palm of her hand. She pressed it to the metal and then watched it attach. Lights flashed as the device activated, then it started burning through the hull and moving in a circle.

  This is for you, Lara and Wren. Be safe.

  It had always been the Traynor sisters against the world. After their father had died and their mother had imploded and gotten booted out of the Space Corps, they’d lost their father’s pension. Things had been tough after that. When she was sober enough, Mika Traynor had been out working—mainly in private security or as a club bouncer. That had left the sisters alone a lot. It had fallen on the girls to keep their home together.

  They’d been known as badass Lara, tough Eve, and sweet, smart Wren.

  The BurnCutter made a low beep. Eve waited a second, knowing the device was creating a seal between the two ships. A longer beep and she knew it was finished. She grabbed the device and slid it onto her belt. She watched as the metal circle disintegrated in a puff of ash, leaving a perfect hole. She ducked through it and onto the Desteron.

  She looked around and smiled. Score one for Eve. She might not know the interior of the Desteron, but she knew ships. Just as she’d suspected, she’d boarded right near the engine room. She found herself in one corner of the large space.

  She pressed another device, a HoloCamo, to the hull behind her, and a holographic shimmer flowed over the hole. It camouflaged the breach to look like the rest of the wall. Perfect.

  Eve turned, ducking down, and stealthily moved through the engine room. It was fascinating. She stared briefly at the sleek bits of moving equipment, strange gauges, and small vats of bright-blue fluid. Machinery chugged, and Eve wove her way under several organic-looking pipes and black metal parts. Other pieces of equipment were smooth, black metal and soundless, giving her no clue as to what their function was.

  God, she could stay here all day, investigating everything. She’d be a very happy woman.

  But she turned her head away from the alien technology, her gaze narrowing. She had a mission to complete.

  She moved quickly until she reached the back wall of the engine room. Her plan was to use the maintenance-access conduits to move through the ship. All ships needed space for crew to access hard-to-reach systems and equipment.

  Eve eased along the wall, searching for some sort of entrance. Come on.

  There. She spotted the small door at eye level. Probably an easy climb in for a six-foot-plus Eon warrior. She moved closer, readying to open it, when she heard voices. Deep voices. Getting closer.

  Shit. She ducked behind some equipment, and pressed as close to it as she could. Waves of heat radiated off it but it wasn’t hot enough to burn. She kept very still, listening as the voices grew in volume. Then, for the first time in her life, Eve saw an Eon warrior in the flesh.

  Her chest locked. Holy space dust.

  The photos she’d seen did them no justice. They were big, muscled, and freaking gorgeous.

  Eve was the first to admit she liked a built guy. She couldn’t care less about a pretty face, though. Instead, she liked knowing a man could handle himself and at least put up a bit of a fight if she challenged him.

  Through a crack between two vats, she watched the warriors as they studied some piece of equipment. She definitely wouldn’t call these guys pretty by any means, with their rugged, strong features, but they absolutely held a lot of appeal.

  She also got a good look at the broad shoulders and long legs covered by their standard black uniforms. They had no sleeves and their shirts were practically suctioned on to their hard chests. Both had longish hair—one in a deep brown, and the other tawnier.

  The warriors studied the equipment, turning dials and flipping switches, talking to each other in a low murmur.

  Eve had a neural translator implanted behind her left ear—like all Space Corps members—but the warriors weren’t close enough for her to make out what they were saying.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the men moved off.

  She released a long breath. Now that she’d had a good look at the warriors, she had grave doubts about taking one of them down.

  Especially the war commander.

  She was going to need the element of surprise, otherwise the warrior would snap her neck with a flick of his wrist.

  She waited a few more minutes until she was sure the warriors had completely moved away. She jumped up and eased back to the maintenance conduit. She leaped up, pressing her boots to the wall on either side of the door. The magnetic soles activated, holding her in place. Eve pulled out her AllDriver tool and set to work on the screws. A moment later, she opened the door.

  Shit, it was small. She peered into the tight, horizontal space. No way a warrior would fit in here.

  Suddenly, a small whizzing noise made her stiffen. A small maintenance robot zoomed down the corridor. It paused right in front of Eve, then turned, and zoomed away. Well, that explained why the space wasn’t very large.

  She climbed through the opening, and replaced the door behind her. She clicked on the flashlight attached to the shoulder of her suit.

  Okay, it was definitely a tight fit, but she’d make it.

  Again, she’d had to make some assumptions on where she’d find the war commander’s cabin. What little intel they did have suggested it was close to the bridge. That’s right where Eve would want to be, if the Desteron was her ship.

  She hoped War Commander Thann-Eon felt the same.

  Eve started crawling.

  Chapter Three

  Davion strode into his quarters, stripping off his training gear. He’d had a long, hard workout in the ship’s gym. His body felt warm and loose, and he already felt more relaxed.

  The ship was now in range of Hunter7 and anticipation slid along his veins.

  He crossed his cabin, headed for his washroom. His bags were already packed and on his private shuttle. As soon as he’d washed and changed, he was leaving.

  Halfway across his cabin, something skittered across his senses. He felt his helian stir, his senses expanding. He paused and scanned his quarters.

  Nothing was out of place in his cabin. He liked things tidy.

  He shook his head. Clearly, he was just ready for his vacation. He shucked the last of his clothes and headed for the shower. In the stall, mist rose around him. He was going to enjoy a long swim on Hunter7—much better than the mist of a starship water-conservation shower.

  Davion kept his washing quick—a habit bred into him after years of starship living. As he exited the stall, he grabbed a super-absorbent towel, wiping the water off his skin. Then naked, he strode back into his cabin, heading for his closet.

  Again, he felt a prickle of unease across the back of his neck, and he frowned.

  He shook his head once more. He really needed some ti
me off, if he was imagining threats in his own quarters.

  The attack came from nowhere.

  A firm weight hit his back and Davion stumbled.

  By Cren’s black heart. He went down on one knee, and an arm slid around his neck and pulled backward.

  The pressure cut off his air. Shoving his surprise aside, he reached back and grabbed at his assailant. His hands slid over a shiny suit. Whoever it was, they were small.

  But they were also cunning. His attacker moved, pushing their weight back, which put more pressure on the arm across Davion’s throat. He coughed, fighting for air.

  His attacker reached around with a slim arm and slapped something over his helian. The black, gel-like substance oozed over the wristband that housed his symbiont. Cren.

  Davion tried to activate his helian, calling for his armor and weapons, but nothing happened. Whatever the black gunk was, it cut him off from his symbiont.

  A punch of anger inside him. It didn’t matter, he didn’t need his armor to take down his attacker. He might be naked, but he wasn’t helpless.

  Davion surged up, his attacker clinging to his back. He spun and slammed his assailant into the wall. The arm around his neck loosened.

  Then Davion reached over his shoulder and grabbed a handful of what felt like his attacker’s hair. He heard a sharp gasp. Then he yanked them over his head.

  The small figure flew through the air and hit his bed, rolling instantly up on their knees.

  Davion got a good look at a pair of brilliant blue eyes. He froze.

  A woman.

  She was slender, but the slick, black-and-white suit left no doubt that she was also fit. Dark hair was pulled back severely from a face with a pointed chin and high cheekbones.

  She was Terran.

  In a blur, she moved, launching at him. She aimed a fist at his gut and Davion blocked it, only to realize that he’d done exactly what she wanted.

  He left his upper body dipped and open. She leaped up and landed a hard hit to the back of his neck. He grunted, and in that split second, she jumped on him. Two toned thighs circled his neck.

  Her slim, strong body twisted, and they both crashed to the floor.

  Davion growled. Enough.

  He had questions—like how the Cren she was on his ship, in his cabin, and why—and she was going to give him the answers.

  He shifted, ready to pin her to the floor, when he felt a sharp sting at his neck.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said in a deep, throaty voice.

  Davion felt a tingle flow through his veins. A drug. By Ston’s sword.

  He turned his head, and his gaze met hers.

  “Just for the record—” she said “—I was against this plan.”

  “You’ll…pay…” It was difficult to speak, and his vision was blurring.

  She winced. “Yeah, I know.”

  As his muscles went lax, she leaped off him and helped lower him flat on the floor. He glared at her, unable to move any of his limbs.

  “You should be out by now,” she muttered.

  “Make…you regret this.”

  “I already do.” Her gaze drifted down his naked body.

  He saw the flare of appreciation in her eyes before she looked away.

  She cleared her throat. “If I had a choice…”

  He heard the regret in her voice, but his thoughts were all splintering, too hard to pull together. He stared into those amazing blue eyes, like they were a lifeline.

  Brack would never let him live this down. Him, the greatest war commander of the Eon fleet, taken down by a woman. A small, Terran one.

  Then Davion lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Damn, he was a heavy bastard.

  Eve had managed to pull some trousers onto the war commander. That had been a very hard job, considering he was dead weight. And especially when she was trying not to notice his nakedness.

  His impressive nakedness.

  With a lot of grunting and groaning, she’d gotten him covered enough. So maybe she’d looked at the smooth skin of his chest and the smattering of brown hair on it, once or twice. And the hard abdomen. She’d managed to drag him into the maintenance conduit that ran alongside his cabin. Thank the stars that it was larger than the ones down near the engine room. Still, it was a very tight fit.

  In the narrow tunnel, she leaned over and sucked in some air. No way she could get him all the way back to her ship. He was too damn big and heavy.

  Plus, she had no idea how long the sedative she’d used on him would last. It had taken far longer than she’d expected for it to knock him out.

  She pulled out the PlastiCuffs she’d brought and tied his hands together. His wrists were thick and strong. One was covered in the device she’d used to trap his symbiont. The sticky substance had the faint scent of tar and smoke. Her gaze fell on his hands—they were big too, with long fingers and blunt nails.

  Focus on the job, Eve. She snapped the cuffs on. They were the highest rated, and she hoped to hell they would hold an enraged alien warrior.

  Right. Now, she needed a Plan B. Fast.

  She heard a chime, and realized there was some sort of communicator attached to his trousers.

  “War Commander, I know you’re preparing to depart for your vacation.” The voice was deep and smooth. “I just wanted to leave you a message to let you know that your private shuttle is prepped and fueled in docking bay AC-7. Good travels, and good hunting.”

  The communicator clicked off.

  Private shuttle. AC-7. She scanned the narrow conduit. She’d passed a few maintenance comp panels earlier. Turning sideways, she shimmied along until she spotted a panel. She pried it open and saw a comp screen embedded in the wall. A few swipes activated it, and it took her a while to wade through the data. She’d learned the Eon lexicon at the Space Corps Academy. There. A map. She scrolled through and a shiver of excitement went through her. An entire, detailed map of the Desteron. Ooh, she was so downloading a copy of this.

  She tapped on the screen and quickly found Bay AC-7. Her pulse leaped. It was right next door.

  Heading back to the war commander’s prone form, she pulled another device off her belt. She touched a button on the LoadLifter, and a small, strong cable wound out. It was a small cargo-carrying device. She wrapped the cable around the warrior. When she pressed another button, the lifter did most of the heavy-lifting and, as she moved, it took most of the warrior’s weight.

  She still had to pull, but it was far easier now. She dragged him down the conduit and soon they reached the doorway into the docking bay.

  Eve quickly grabbed her AllDriver, it whizzed on the screws, and then she pushed the door open. She peered inside. It was a small bay, neat and orderly. Everything was quiet.

  She touched another device on her belt, jamming any cameras in range.

  Then she quickly pushed the war commander out of the doorway. “Sorry.”

  She watched him drop the meter and a half to the ground and winced. Then she climbed down behind him. Grabbing the LoadLifter, she dragged him toward the sexy, little shuttle parked nearby.

  Even with the LoadLifter, her arms were starting to burn. “God, why do you have to be so big and muscular?”

  When he woke up, he was going to be pissed. As she pulled him around some cargo crates, she blew out a breath. She couldn’t worry about that right now. Across the cargo bay, she eyed the shuttle again, and stifled a little moan. It was made of black metal, had a long, sinuous shape, and two arches of metal at the back that formed part of the propulsion system. Yep, the Eon knew how to design sexy ships.

  And men.

  Eve shut that thought down. That was what five months in prison got you—horny.

  Note to self—don’t drool over the alien war commander who’s going to try and wring your neck when he wakes up.

  She pulled him up the ramp of the shuttle and used his palm to open the door. It hissed open, and she tugged him on board.

  Oh y
eah, baby. The inside was as sleek and sexy as the outside. She dragged the war commander over to a chair and, with a lot of heaving and grunting, got him into it and strapped in.

  Then Eve moved to the cockpit and sat behind the controls. The large pilot’s seat enveloped her.

  She was a pretty good pilot, but much of this ship was foreign. She’d also heard that Eon warriors used their symbiont to plug into a ship’s systems and help them fly.

  Well, she didn’t have a symbiont, but she was sure as hell going to fly this thing. She shifted around in the large chair, disliking that its size made her feel like a kid playing dress-up. She touched the controls.

  Lights flared.

  “Automatic takeoff sequence initialized,” the computer’s voice intoned.

  Uh, okay. That was probably a good thing.

  “Heading to preset destination, Hunter7.”

  Hmm. Eve had no idea what Hunter7 was. Still, she’d worry about getting off the Desteron, first, then she’d worry about changing course after.

  “Automatic takeoff sequence commencing.”

  The shuttle’s engines fired up, a faint vibration going through the ship. More lights flared on the console.

  All right, baby. It looked like they were taking off.

  Once she put some distance between them and the warship, then she’d work out how to actually fly this thing and make the rendezvous with the Polaris. She glanced back at the warrior. He was still passed out in the chair.

  Ahead, the cargo bay doors opened, and the shuttle rose from the floor. They zoomed out, going fast.

  Eve laughed. She liked this shuttle.

  They flew out into the dark of space, leaving the Desteron behind them.

  “Commencing journey to Hunter7,” the computer intoned.

  Good. Eve still felt twitchy knowing they were in range of the Desteron. Each second eased some of the tension inside her. She wondered what this Hunter7 was.

  Eve tapped the screen, calling up the information. A picture of a small planet appeared. It had weird signatures, and she leaned forward to study its scans, her brow scrunched. She’d never seen scans like this before.