Chained: A Sci-Fi Alien Invasion Romance (Garrison Earth Book 5)

by V. K. Ludwig

  “I hope you’re right,” she said, digging her little fingers between the gaps of mine. “In any case, we need to make it off this planet first.”

  “Our son seems in a rush.”

  His yuleshi already waited in front of a massive wall of layered rock, impatiently digging at the ground even as it heaved with exhaustion. Grit pricked my arms each time the howling wind threw it at me, and some caught in Naney’s hair.

  I nodded at Zerim and shouted, “You were right about the storms.”

  His lips curled into a satisfied smirk before he urged his mount into a walk along the rock. We followed behind him, allowing our yuleshis to catch their breath while their slits filtered moisture from the air with noisy whistles.

  Ten minutes later, Zerim lifted his hand and reined his yuleshi to a stop, his posture stiffening. “Do you feel that?”

  I steadied Naney in my arms, who must have startled from a state of half-sleep. “Feel what?”

  Zerim slipped off his mount and immediately pressed his palm against the ground. “Paw beats. At least ten, maybe fifteen.”

  My tendons strung tight. “A leap of yuleshis?”

  “They never live in groups larger than five, six at the most,” he said, locking his purple gaze on me as his brows furrowed. “What do you see, Mother?”

  “Mekara shows me nothing,” she said. “But even someone who isn’t a shimid can tell that we need to hurry.”

  Zerim nodded.

  I waited until he’d mounted his beast before I rode up beside him. Together, we trotted toward the spires of rock, their silverish tips glistening against the rising sun. Once the stargazer approached, we would have the smallest timeframe to get onto it.

  The incline proved a challenge.

  Our yuleshis dislodged a barrage of rocks and smaller boulders, causing our mounts to slip and stumble on our way up. By the time we reached the plateau, the sun had fully emerged, casting a damn spotlight on us.

  Handing Naney the reins with one hand, I retrieved the sat sphere with the other. “That thing better catch signal fast.”

  “Over there.” Naney pointed at a windworn boulder only a few paces away. “We’ll press against it and ask our yuleshis to do the same. Better chances of blending in.”

  Activating the sat sphere, I stared at it even as I dismounted and pressed my back against the warm rock. “You might wanna pray to Mekara now.”

  I held it up.

  Stretched my arm a bit higher.

  Beep-beep.

  The indicator flashed red.

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “Those storms down there are probably messing with the signal. How far is the next higher plateau?”

  Zerim groaned. “Two suns’ ride.”

  Great. If I couldn’t get this thing to ping our location for Torin’s warriors to pick us up right fucking now, then I’d led my family straight into danger.

  And Naney knew it, because she cupped my cheek. “Mekara wants us to be together.”

  “Right this moment, I don’t give a shit about what Mekara wants,” I said and glanced around the plateau. “I want us to be together.”

  My eyes caught on a sad little tree, its trunk emerging crooked from the rocky edge. Only a handful of leaves grew on the think branches, making it the perfect spot for a signal boost.

  “I’ll climb up there.” Hardly had I announced it, did I lower myself to the ground and combat-crawled toward it.

  Naney’s hiss whistled after me. “That tree can’t hold your weight, and you’ll fall to your death.”

  Oh no, it would hold.

  It had to.

  Some sort of powder lodged from the bushels of gray-greenish grass as I dragged myself toward the tree. It tingled my nostrils, but I suppressed a sneeze and grabbed for the trunk.

  Sat sphere safely lodged within the stiff clasp of my fingers, I climbed the tree, following its corkscrew shape toward a higher vantage point. The wind whipped through my hair and leaves rustled, almost drowning out the battering of my heart.

  I gripped the trunk tighter.

  I lifted the sat sphere to the sky.

  Then I waited, hoped, might even have prayed to Mekara while I turned the little metal ball this way and that until—

  Beep.

  A green flicker of light.

  All weight and tension slipped from my muscles. “I got signal!”

  A signal I needed to sustain while they activated stealth, so I carefully placed the thing between a tight fork of branches. I stared at the light for a second, two, three. Would the signal hold?

  When it did, I carefully slipped down along the branch. Once the soles of my boots made impact with solid ground, I pushed myself off the trunk, and turned.

  And walked straight into a punch.

  Knuckles collided with the side of my nose, and pain stabbed me right in the brain to the crunch of bone and cartilage. Warmth flooded my sinuses, dripped out of my nostrils, and seasoned my lips with the foreboding taste of iron.

  I would have landed on my ass had it not been for the blurred outline of a Jal’zar gripping my collar and hauling me toward him. “By Mekara, that freeraider had not lied. What are you doing on Solgad, Chainsmith?”

  He clearly wanted no answer with how he yanked me toward… toward where? Tears streamed down my face, turning my vision into a distorted mess. Where was Zerim? Naney?

  One irregular beat of my heart chased the next, but I swallowed the urge to call for them. They might have gotten away before this group ambushed us and were hiding somewhere this very—

  “Don’t hurt my son!”

  The sound of Naney’s voice tormented my soul, but it tore to shreds when the Jal’zar kicked against my calf, sending me to the ground. And there, right before me in the dirt, was my beautiful Naney, arms and tail bound behind her back. Zerim lay next to her, his grunts muffled by how they’d gagged him.

  “Let them go!” I shouted against the pain burning half my face while something sharp cut into my wrists. “Take me. Do with me whatever you want but let them go. They’re innocent!”

  “Cut the signal!” the Jal’zar shouted, and one of the five warriors sprinted straight for the tree. “Send a scout to Noja with a message for the Empire. Tell them we captured their warden, Zavis da taigh Broknar, when he roamed a planet that was not for him to step on ever again.”

  I held Naney’s gaze, veins shrinking at the sight of terror swirling in the depths of her stunning eyes. “Why didn’t you escape, dammit? Why?”

  Her lips trembled and her face distorted into one of agony. “He said he wouldn’t hide anymore.”

  By Mekara, that kid. “Listen to me, Naney. I’ll fix this. You need to trust—”

  Someone shoved thick fabric between my teeth, muffling all further pleas, prayers, and promises. Bound and defeated, I lay on the ground, and slowly blinked the Jal’zar before me into perception.

  Warlord Krevon loomed over me, easily recognized by a horn half broken off. “Take them to camp. Put the shimid in a tent along with the young… hybrid, by the looks of it. String the Vetusian to a tree.”

  Twenty-Two

  Naney

  Warlord Krevon slowly paced inside the guarded tent, his assessing stare on Zerim. “Extraordinary. Horns, tail, skin… one might be fooled into believing you are Jal’zar.”

  “I am Jal’zar,” Zerim ground out from where he sat on the dirt floor, his arms still bound behind his back for how he’d tried to fight them off. “I hunt, I hum, and I pray to Mekara.”

  Krevon snatched the end of Zerim’s flicking tail faster than my son could dodge it. “No tailclaw.”

  My heart grew heavier the more Zerim’s shoulders slouched. “He’s not a beast to be prodded and stared at.”

  He dropped the tail and raked his long brown strands between his horns, one badly damaged, then squatted before my cot. “Given his white hair and the color of his eyes, I assume he is your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “By Mekara, his very e
xistence is a sin, but a hybrid born with the touch of the goddess herself…? That is a matter for my shimid to mull over, no doubt.” He smacked his tongue. “Who fathered him?”

  I held his bright green gaze, the excited gleam I found making it clear he already knew. “Warden Zavis of the House Broknar.”

  The corners of his lips tugged into a smile too sly to rouse anything else but concern. “Your son is not the only hybrid that was conceived, you know, but he is the only living one.”

  That chased a shudder of fear across my skin. “What did you do to the other one?”

  His head cocked and his aging features tightened. “Have you forgotten who the savages are, female? Vetusians might have no qualms to make others suffer for their benefit, but Mekara demands honor from all of our kind. Child and mother died during birth, unfortunately.”

  Beside us, Zerim perked up. “Did it have a tailclaw?”

  “No tailclaw. The girl was conceived when a Jal’zar visited a brothel on Odheim and came upon a human female. He stung her but didn’t hum. We captured them when he brought her to Solgad. Studied them at the Noja lab, and scientists confirmed that, even without zovazay, he’d opened her womb to his seed.” Krevon planted his arms on his knees, narrowing his eyes on me. “How could this happen the other way around?”

  I sunk my gaze. “I’m not certain.”

  “Given his age, I assume he was conceived during the occupation?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was wise of you to keep him hidden. Another Warlord might have cut his throat on sight.” His naked soles whirled up a fine layer of ash as he came closer and reached for my hands. “Vetusians have ransacked our homes and raped our females. Had the warden forced himself on you back then?”

  My throat narrowed. “No.”

  “Why are you protecting him?” He lifted a brow at me. “Every Jal’zar knows he was notorious for it and inspired an entire Empire to do the same. He rounded up our females, chained them in a line, and marched them straight into the brothels.”

  That wasn’t how it’d happened. “That’s a lie. Zavis never wanted this to happen.”

  “No? Is there a solar system out there who has not heard of his… insatiable lust for our females? One he slaked for a decade during his self-imposed exile on Odheim after he fell out of favor with his people?” He sighed deeply and his hands clasped mine a bit tighter. “I am aware of… the unforgivable behavior some of our males have shown toward females who have been at the mercy of the Vetusians’ depravity. Whatever he has done to you, let go of your shame. I would never put any blame at your feet for this sin.”

  This sin.

  My eyes wandered to Zerim, my beautiful son who’d inherited my looks, yes, but also the protectiveness of his father. Throughout the sun cycles, he’d given me purpose and strength. He’d protected me and fought by my side against Jal’zar and Vetusians alike. How could he possibly be the product of sin?

  He couldn’t.

  He wasn’t.

  I lifted my gaze and stared the Warlord straight in the eyes. “Warden Zavis never raped me. More than once, he saved my life. He escaped to Odheim because he killed his own warriors—”

  “Another thing he is notorious for, including all other Vetusians of his crop: bloodlust.”

  My fangs ached with how I clenched them. “He killed them to protect me. During the occupation, he was my friend, my ally, and he was… he was my lover.”

  A flinch hushed over his fingers.

  He released mine from his grip.

  Warlord Krevon stared at me for long moments, unblinking, as if his thoughts couldn’t quite process my words. “Are you saying that you mated with this male… willingly?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a twitch underneath his left eye, and his pupils darted across my face as if searching for anything that would indicate a lie. “And what opened your womb?”

  “We don’t know what caused my womb to accept his seed,” I said. “He bit me, but I also stung him between his ribs and hummed for him like a male would to claim his female. Now, he’s my kunozay. My soulmate, bound before Meka—”

  The slap of his flat hand hit my cheek with such force, I tumbled across the cot. “There will be no talk of such a bond as long as I live. Zovazay is sacred, and no single Vetusian soul will ever sully the goddess like that.”

  My mind spun.

  Chaos broke out around me.

  Zerim hissed and things thudded to the ground, but it was short-lived. By the time I pushed myself up to sit and faced the Warlord once more, a guard had gripped my son’s horn and pushed his face into the dirt.

  “I should not have struck a shimid. We rode for many suns and are worn out, but that does not excuse this action. Forgive me.” The Warlord made the sign of the goddess before he rose and brushed the dust off his knees. “Here I stand before you as a liar. Not once have I shamed one of our females that had been forced to work the brothels. But this…? This is a sin if I have ever seen one.”

  Sticky and rancid hate crept from the ground, boring its way into my bones from where it spread. It itched my veins, tugged my muscles, but it never quite reached my core. Mother’s words lived there, like a resonance that protected my heart.

  Against the stiffness in my muscles, I rose. “There’s no sin in what Zavis and I shared.”

  The Warlord huffed. “For a shimid, you seem eager to betray your own kind.”

  “Because my own kind wants me to betray the feeling that unites all living things within the goddess herself,” I said, and waved my hand toward Zerim. “My son was neither conceived of rape nor sin, but from love. Look at him! Mekara touched him herself. She speaks through him. And she is telling us that, deep down, we can be one.”

  Krevon turned away with his hands on his hips, sighing and shaking his head repeatedly as he stared at the tent flaps. Pacing soon followed, steps slow and deliberate, as if each one represented a new thought or conclusion.

  When he stopped, he turned toward Zerim. “You have visions?”

  When the guard eased his grip, Zerim shook his head. As much as he looked like a shimid, my son had never developed the gift of visions, and it was unlikely he ever would at this age.

  “Beastsight, then?” the Warlord asked.

  Again, Zerim shook his head, slower this time.

  Warlord Krevon sighed and placed both hands onto his hips. “You read the runes?”

  “No,” Zerim said, his voice heavy with self-doubt. “I might have been born shimid, but I carry none of Mekara’s gifts.”

  The Warlord turned away, his voice nothing but a mumble but still, I could make out his words. “A small amend in the face of this offense against our kind.”

  I hissed before he finished the words, trying to shield Zerim from them. “What are you going to do with Zavis?”

  “I would kill him if I could. Punish him for all the anguish he brought to Solgad.” He wiped a palm down one side of his face as he turned toward the tent flaps. “Since he is a warden, my hands are bound. Still, we need to get to the truth of this matter. Warden Torin has been informed, and we will meet with him on a neutral ship in a few argos.”

  “What of my son?”

  “Your son should not have come to be. But he did, and the scientists at the Noja labs will be pleased to learn there is another hybrid.”

  “So you’ll lock him up and study him like a beast.” My stomach convulsed, amplified by how a tremble settled on Zerim’s horns. “And once you’re done, will you… will you kill him?”

  “Kill him?” the Warlord scoffed and walked toward the tent flaps. “Isa will see to your needs and ready you for our departure.”

  As soon as he’d spoken those words, a female slipped inside our tent, her black hair twirled between her fawn horns. She carried a wooden tray that held a bowl, a stack of rags, waterskins, and a bowl with fruits.

  “Shimid,” she said with a dip of her head and placed the tray onto a wooden stool beside the cot. “I bro
ught this so you may wash. There’s food and water.”

  “Thank you.”

  The guard finally released his grip on Zerim and cut the bindings on his wrists. “Several guards are positioned around the tent. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “He won’t,” I assured him, and waited until he left before I turned my attention to my son. “This is not a time to fight, Zerim, but to listen, think, and guard your words.”

  Chest heaving, he lowered himself beside me on the cot, his lips trembling. “He called me an offense against our kind.”

  I reached my arms toward him. “Never listen to—”

  “Don’t!” he snarled and swayed his torso away from my embrace. “I should have stayed hidden. It hurt when females pointed at my tail and giggled, but at least they didn’t say I shouldn’t have come to be.”

  My spine rounded and a wave of despair flooded my veins. He’d been so excited to go to Earth where he could be himself, so his frustration over our failed plan was justified. What would happen to us now?

  Zavis was not the villain my entire race made him out to be but, with fourteen sun cycles between the truth and now, who would believe me? And even if they did and I told them that I had fired that arrow, throwing us all into chaos, what would they do to me? To Zerim?

  “I think,” Isa said as she handed Zerim a bowl of fruits, “those females were silly and too young to recognize something special when they saw it.”

  Zerim lowered his head and took the bowl, but his eyes flicked up to her. “Thank you.”

  “What are you, if not the proof that love can grow even in the most hostile of places? You are touched by Mekara for that very reason.”

  Zerim shook his head. “The goddess didn’t bless me with a single gift.”

  “Perhaps the gift was life itself.” When my gaze caught with Isa’s, she handed me a bowl as well and whispered, “Many sun cycles ago, the warden helped me escape Odheim.”

  I stared up at her, my heartbeat somehow sluggish. It wasn’t that I’d doubted Zavis’ words, but this female offering proof of the good he’d tried to do… there was so much to him I hadn’t discovered yet. Now that I wanted to, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get the chance.