Rekker: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Vaznik Book 1)

by Ava York

  The crew of the Calliope was one of the best teams the Vaznik people have ever assembled.

  Our victory today only proved how capable we were and, even though I would’ve liked to have provided them with more rest, I knew they’d follow me anywhere.

  “Permission to make a request, sir?” I asked.

  “What is it, Rekker?”

  “After this recon, my crew gets a two-week furlough back on Vaznik. They need time to recoup and spend time with their families. It’s been a long six months.”

  “Granted, Rekker. So, you accept?”

  “Yes, sir. Send through the coordinates—we’ll set course as soon as the cannon is back online.”

  “Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Rekker. I look forward to seeing you back at base soon. Over and out,” Strygan said before the comms line went dead.

  I sat back in the chair, looking out the viewport to the frozen wasteland below, but not really seeing it.

  Here we go again.

  Lila

  “We’re here, Miss Kanes,” the older soldier said gruffly.

  I noticed that he hadn’t met my eyes throughout the entire trip, even though he’d sat in the back of the transport with me rather than up front with the driver.

  What did soldiers think about this particular assignment? Escorting women to be tested, possibly sent away from their families, maybe forever?

  The allied Terran forces had fought bravely, desperately, in the war against the Suhlik, but they’d been horribly overmatched.

  Peace had been hard won.

  It must have annoyed some soldiers to realize that women bought that peace with our bodies, not the military’s strategies.

  “Thank you,” was all I said though.

  It had been a two hour journey from our farm to the testing facility.

  The entire ride, my mind had whirled, trying to come up with plans, anything that would get me out of this.

  I’d visited the testing facility once, every girl did in high school. I think it was supposed to make it less scary, but that wasn’t exactly the result.

  Every girl I knew had nightmares for weeks.

  I looked through the thick, reinforced window at the facility as we approached the low building.

  It was larger than I remembered, but that made sense if this was the central point for all of the population of this area.

  Dozens of other vehicles were lined up in front of it.

  “Seems like May was a busy month,” commented the driver.

  An unreasonable thrill of hope ran through me.

  If there were lots of us, maybe that would make it less likely that I would be the one chosen.

  I knew that’s not how it worked, I really did.

  But peering out the window at the facility, all I wanted to do was to cling to irrational hope.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Kanes, we’ve got to go.”

  I met the soldier’s eyes for a moment, and just for a moment, I wondered if he’d let me go, if I could twist away from his hand under my elbow.

  I was in good shape from working on the farm.

  I could do this.

  Not.

  Irrational hope was one thing.

  Downright delusional was something else.

  I grabbed the small bag that I’d hastily packed, to Jane’s disbelief, and followed him down the stairs.

  98.5.

  Step.

  98.5.

  I repeated the number to myself over and over with each step.

  It was a ludicrously high percentage. I’d never known anyone who was matched.

  I wasn’t sure my parents knew of anyone who had.

  I had nothing to worry about.

  Until the soldiers stationed outside the facility opened the door and I saw the bedlam within.

  I was obviously the last to arrive, and the driver had been right.

  May must have been very busy. There must have been thirty or forty of us in the small waiting room, and for some reason, there seemed to be a delay.

  Nerves already tuned to a breaking point had shattered and hysteria ruled the hour.

  “I don’t want to go!” a buxom blonde sobbed. “You can’t make me!”

  I agreed with the sentiment, even if not her method of achieving her goal.

  I glanced around the room. All eyes were on the blonde as she sagged to the floor.

  Next to her, a brunette wailed, “I’ll never see my home again!”

  “Oh, brother,” my escort muttered. “It only takes one. Stay here, Miss Kane.” And then he waded into the sea of young women.

  Quickly I glanced at the door we had just come through. No salvation there, though, the steely faced guards maintained their post.

  “Quiet down, ladies,” my escort shouted, rounding up the other soldiers to try to gently tug their wards back into line.

  “No one is sending anyone anywhere until you get through the test.” He tried to dislodge a third woman from his leg, but she refused to let go.

  “What are you going to do if you are matched and you don’t have any tears left?” he asked. “Or if you aren’t matched, and you got all worked up for nothing?”

  The line in the wall was faint, but surely that was a slightly recessed door to the side of the room.

  I slid over to it, and with my hand behind my back, wedged my nails into the crack.

  It slid just a bit.

  Then a bit more.

  Finally, it was wide enough for me to dart inside and I dashed through the narrow hallway.

  Obviously, this was an employee-only area of the testing facility, but I didn’t really care. All I wanted to do was find a way out.

  Maybe find a storage room, some corner where nobody would find me.

  Sure, someone had picked me up, they’d have a record of that, but surely they wouldn’t find me yet.

  It could be someone else’s day.

  Three more turns, and I found myself in a narrow stairway. It looked like an access staircase, with dim lighting and military olive-green walls.

  My heart beat nervously, but I didn’t have time to be scared. I took a deep breath and made it down two flights of stairs before a blaring alarm sounded, nearly deafening me.

  Damn it.

  I quickened my pace, but heard doors burst open from both above and below me and I knew I’d been caught.

  There must have been cameras somewhere for me to have been seen.

  Of course there were.

  I froze on a landing as footsteps closed in on me from both directions.

  I knew I had no choice but to go with them, but my brain had set too hard into fight or flight mode.

  And if I couldn’t run, I’d fight.

  Four of the younger guards took hold of my arms and legs, while my original guide shook his head.

  “I really had hoped you wouldn’t, Miss Kanes,” he said sadly. “But I figure it’s always the quiet ones that make a dash for it.”

  I kicked out as hard as I could, but with two of them holding my legs, it was no use—there was nothing I could do to throw them off me.

  They brought me to a room I recognized as a testing room. I kept struggling so hard it took all four of them to secure me in one of the chairs. Thankfully, it was a comfortable one, cushioned and made of leather.

  “This will be so much easier on all of us if you stop fighting, dear. You really have nothing to fear,” one of the approaching nurses said.

  “Swap places with me then,” I snapped.

  “All we’re going to do at this stage is take a little blood. It’s the easiest, most non-invasive way to tell if you’re a match,” she said, completely unruffled. “You do have your paperwork on file, correct?”

  I wanted to fight her more, but I knew I’d only injure myself when she tried to stick me, so I allowed it.

  Of course I did. Every woman eligible for the lottery kept their forms updated. It wasn’t exactly a choice. And it was the one decent thing out of this whole deal.
r />   The dowry. Every matched woman was given a million credits, in exchange for the “disruption” to her entire life.

  Or it went to her family, in case she didn’t survive the birth of the child.

  98.5%. It was close. But not perfect. Things could happen.

  I shuddered. I’d filled out my paperwork the day I turned eighteen. My family would get the money no matter what. It would help make up for missing a set of hands at the farm.

  Maybe hire more workers.

  But I couldn’t hope for it. That would mean the impossible had happened.

  “This will only take a moment,” the nurse said cheerily, as if struggling women were brought to her every day. Maybe they were.

  She was right—the blood draw was over quickly, and she swept across the floor to load the vial into a machine attached to a computer.

  “This should only take five minutes to come up with a result. If it’s inconclusive, we’ll try something else,” she told me.

  She was wrong this time.

  It took less than a minute for the machine to emit a high-pitched, positive-sounding chime.

  “Well, I’ll be . . . that’s the fastest we’ve ever gotten a match in this facility. And it’s perfect,” the nurse said, beaming.

  Perfect wasn’t exactly the word I would have chosen.

  It was my worst nightmare.

  Rekker

  “All hands, report to the bridge for a mission briefing.”

  Damn. This wasn’t in my plan.

  Worse, it was the opposite of what I’d promised my crew.

  “By mission briefing, I assume you mean talking about where to go for some downtime, right, Captain?” Derrix commed back.

  I repressed a snort. “I wish. Just get up here.”

  His response was another noncommittal grunt, but I knew Derrix ultimately did what he was told.

  It took them less than ten minutes to fully assemble. I looked out at them, surveying their injuries.

  We’d be fine. Maybe a little slow in the beginning, but fine.

  “We’re here now, Cap, don’t keep us waiting,” Cedroc said.

  I could see the hint of knowing in his eyes, even with one patched up.

  “First off, I want to say how well you all fought on this last mission. You did the job and sent the Suhlik back to their holes.”

  They answered me with a bellowed war cry.

  Someday, we’d do more than just fight back against those bastards. Someday, we’d wipe them from space, until they were only a memory, only a whisper mothers told their cubs about at bedtime.

  But that wasn’t today.

  “When I returned to the bridge today, I had a message High Command. Commander Strygan offered us another mission,” I said.

  I was greeted with groans, just as I’d expected.

  “I hope you told him to fuck off,” Javik said, never one to mince words.

  “I did not. Not only because it would be rude, but also because he’s my commanding officer and doing so would get me thrown in the brig,” I told him, even though I appreciated Javik’s sentiment.

  “Don’t tell me you took it,” Derrix piped up.

  “I did. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter—Strygan presented it as an offer, but one that shouldn’t be refused unless I was prepared to have it forced upon us,” I told them.

  “That’s bullshit. We were told after this last mission that we’d get to return home at the end of it. We’ve been out here skirting this damned galaxy for over six months now. When do we get to rest?” Javik asked.

  His tattoos were full crimson, and understandably so. I, too, wanted to return home. With each day that passed, I grew more tired of living on a ship.

  I wanted to be in my own home, in my own bed, back on the planet I was born on. I felt like it had been years since I’d seen its lush forests and teeming seas.

  “Strygan promised each of us a furlough once this mission is complete. He gave me his word,” I said.

  “What exactly is it? How long are we going to be gone for this time?” Cedroc said.

  “I understand you’re tired. I’ve been assured that this is going to be a quick in and out retrieval—easy. It probably won’t even take a full week. The longest part will be the travel.”

  “Okay, fine. What’s the prize?” Derrix asked.

  “Aside from returning home to a two-week furlough? The bonus for everyone involved is five thousand credits,” I told them.

  “What the hell does he want us to go get, Cap?” Cedroc asked.

  He wasn’t stupid. For that price, he knew the mission was something important, and we hadn’t had two-solid weeks off in… I didn’t know how long, anymore.

  “I don’t have many details at this point, just that we’ll be headed to an uncharted planetary system to perform a retrieval mission. That’s all I know.”

  I watched as they exchanged glances with each other and finally looked back to me.

  “We’re in,” Cedroc said, speaking for the entire crew.

  “I knew you would be. For now, return to your quarters and get some rest. We’ll stay here at the Walkandro until we’re flightworthy, and depart tomorrow,” I told them.

  “You know what would make us flightworthy faster,” Derrix commented, “a working teleport.”

  Kyre rolled his eyes. “I can fix the ship, help you with the guns, or work on the teleport. Only one of those can wait until we’re underway.”

  He turned to me, datapad in hand. “But I do have a list of supplies that would make all of this faster. I’ve been replicating items out of stock, but if Command can just ship over parts before we depart, it’d be more efficient.”

  It was the least thing they could do after revoking our leave was the unspoken message.

  I took the pad, skimming down it, ammo, heavy machinery, rations, more replicator stock in four different strains.

  “I’m certain it can all be here in time,” I promised.

  Hopefully I wouldn’t have to break that one.

  As the men left, chattering to each other in low voices about our upcoming mystery mission, I turned back to the comms station.

  If Strygan wanted us out there so quickly, surely he’d be able to get approval on the supplies faster.

  But he wasn’t available, and instead, I had to deal with his assistant, a thin young man with a scowl on his face and a permanent sense of disapproval.

  “This list is quite long, Captain,” he drawled. “Are you entirely certain that all of the supplies are entirely necessary?”

  “Yes.”

  Every single time I had to deal with this idiot, I wanted to reach through the comms and throttle him.

  But chances were good that wouldn’t do me any favors with Command.

  A deep sigh.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “If you could ask Commander Strygan to take a look, I’m sure he’d approve our requests.”

  I was quite proud of myself—my tone was remarkably even.

  “I don’t believe you understand,” the aide said in a shocked voice. “Commander Strygan is a very, very busy man.”

  “Yes.” I held my breath, counted to three. “Of course. Please let me know if therere’ any additional complications or problems.”

  I flipped up off the comms and pulled up the charts we had on file for the system in question.

  Not much.

  Not a huge surprise. In the endless expenses of space, there was no way every possible system could be adequately mapped and charted.

  Especially since so much of our time was spent fighting the Suhlik.

  A mission of peaceful exploration seemed almost laughable.

  The comms pinged again.

  Damn.

  But this time it wasn’t Strygan’s annoying aide.

  “Captain Rekker, good to see you looking well after the last few days. I hope your bunk over here is proving adequate.”

  I relaxed, just a bit.

  Base C
ommander Mozo was in charge of the Walkandro. He might not be flying directly into battle daily, but his assignment was no easier, moving the supply station to support our fighters, wherever they were in this quadrant.

  “Glad you were around for this one. I’m pretty sure you saved our asses this time. I owe you a drink.”

  Mozo laughed. “I’ll take you up on that another time, but for now, I think you ought to head this way.”

  “Everything all right?” I asked, about at my limit for surprises in one day.

  “Everything will be fine, but come over to my office,” he insisted, then cut the comms.

  I rubbed the base of my horns, the tight knot of tension heralding an oncoming headache.

  Fantastic.

  I hit shipboard comms. “I’m headed over to the Walkandro,” I announced. “Cedroc, you’re in charge till I get back.”

  As I went through the airlocks into the outer wheel of the Walkandro itself, I quieted my mind.

  No point in speculating ahead of the facts.

  But I couldn’t help but speculate a little.

  Mozo met me outside his office, pulled me in. “I’d offer you a seat, but we don’t have long.”

  “For what?” I asked warily.

  He leaned against the wall, just as tired as I was, and I pushed my temper down.

  Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t his fault.

  “High Command has just informed me that as a reward for you and your crew’s actions in the last mission, you were entered into the matching pool.”

  “What?”

  Feeling around for a chair, I sat anyway, mind spinning.

  I hadn’t considered being entered into the matching pool. Not for years.

  Not now certainly. I didn’t have time to dedicate to a mate. None of us did.

  Sure, with some reconfiguring, the Calliope could take more crew, but it was no place for women and their families.

  Children.

  My mind flipped through my crew, trying to imagine how each of them were going to handle this.

  Which of them would be the first to be matched.

  We’d have to rearrange spaces, and shifts, and . . .