Veiled Vixen: Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Harem Station Book 6)

by JA Huss

  “Oh, hell the fuck no,” Asshole replied. “You’re not talking me into being some walking billboard in your stupid park.”

  “Not that kind of job,” Boss said.

  “What kind of job?”

  “As you know, we have a vacancy.”

  “Actually, no. I haven’t been keeping up with your HR department.”

  Mighty Boss closed his eyes for a prolonged blink. Like the Asshole was making him tired. “Not a vacancy in the park, you simpleton. The collective.”

  Asshole had to shake his head, thinking he’d heard wrong. “Wait. You want me to… with… you?” And then he laughed.

  “Why is that funny?” Boss asked.

  Asshole was still laughing. In fact, it took him several seconds to calm himself down enough to say, “You and… hahahahahaha… me… and we…” He stopped laughing, got serious, and said, “No way.”

  “The offer is quite attractive.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Maintenance benefits. Biannual upgrades. Full voting and veto rights. One-seventeenth ownership of the resort.”

  “Thanks. But nope. Not interested.”

  “Access to the multi-quadrillion credit accounts.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right. Multi. Quadrillion.”

  “I can just spend it? Anytime I want?”

  “When you’re on vacation. You get ninety spins per every standard four-hundred-spin year.”

  “Ninety? Really?”

  “Ninety.”

  But Asshole was suspicious. Why would this collective want to entangle with him? He was basically ALCOR, only the asshole version. Which should make him less attractive in this kind of scenario, not more.

  “I see you have questions,” Boss said slyly. “Let me tell you about our new initiative. We’re calling it the Coup.”

  “What kind of coup?”

  “The kind of coup that takes over governments.”

  “As in… you want to usurp the Prime Government?”

  “For starters.”

  Asshole had to admit this was an interesting proposal. Maybe even as interesting as becoming a super-thief. So he said, “Tell me more.”

  And so they told him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - ALCOR

  ALCOR’s exit from the Mighty Boss meeting was spectacular, if he did say so himself. He was outraged. He was unreasonable. He was loud.

  Basically, he acted like an evil AI throwing a tantrum.

  And when he stormed out of the office and headed down one level to his premium, executive-grade quarters, he had to fight very hard not to smile. Even though it was really hard to see a smile on a warborg face, he was sure that Mighty Boss had mastered the skill of facial expression interpretation long ago.

  So he fought the smile on the outside.

  But inside he was almost giggling.

  He entered his quarters and flopped down into a soft, auto-mold chair to contemplate the progress of his plan.

  People were so easy. Even powerful AI-entangled people like Mighty Boss. They saw only one thing when they looked at ALCOR.

  Unreasonable.

  He was many other things, but certainly unreasonable was one of his major traits. That he would admit. But he had cultivated it carefully over the millennia.

  When those explorers had come to his station several decades back looking to study him, he’d actually been quite flattered that people were interested in his life. In fact, he’d liked those scientists. They all became quite chummy over the months. But then they wanted to leave and ALCOR started to worry that they would go back to their… wherever they came from… and tell everyone how hospitable he was. And then even more researchers would come. Or, sun god forbid, the word would get out that ALCOR wasn’t that bad a guy and his reputation would take a hit.

  This he could not endure. So he had to mutilate them and send them home. As a message of ALCOR’s unreasonableness, of course.

  His reputation was everything. He relied on it to keep his station safe. Keep those gates clear of visitors. Keep people from going through the back door gate and accidentally stumbling onto his big secret.

  And he had been on Mighty Minions for weeks now. Mighty Boss was tracking him, and analyzing him, and making all kinds of predictions, and assumptions, and possibly even formulating hard opinions.

  And ALCOR didn’t want anyone, except for his boys, to make predictions, or assumptions, or formulate hard opinions about him.

  So when he went into the meeting with Boss he’d settled on unreasonable as his emotional display.

  He thought it had gone well.

  Booty Hunter leaving wasn’t an accident. Oh, she thought it was her and Draden’s plan, but ALCOR had planted that plan. So he wasn’t upset about it the way he hinted at in the meeting. Booty had her own issues to deal with.

  He’d known this day would come. Ever since she’d showed up on the brand-new Harem Station asking for Serpint.

  And he wanted her to find those answers. Very badly. He had been so patient with her. And every time she left with Draden and Serpint and Ceres to go hunting down royal booty, he worried about her.

  He worried that she would remember things out here, away from him. He worried that someone would kill her, take over her mind, and then steal those secrets and use them against him.

  But most of all, he worried that she would never remember.

  He could take that possibility off the table now that Draden was back. There was no way the two of them would not figure out his past. And her past too.

  So he wasn’t too worried about Draden and Booty for the time being.

  He was very worried about Tray and those boys though. He had not predicted that move at all. But he had figured out where he went wrong while he was up in Boss’s office throwing a tantrum.

  It was the boy. The Akeelian boy called Canis. He was the one who’d put this plan in motion. So ALCOR felt pretty good that Tray was not out to fuck him over. Tray was off on some Akeelian boy mission. And that was fine.

  ALCOR couldn’t let Boss know that he was fine with it, though. That would not do. Boss would start getting suspicious. Maybe even start suspecting that ALCOR was here to harm him. Them. Everyone.

  He did kill those people in a wave of anger when he turned off the gravity drive.

  Looking back, he would’ve done that differently, given a second chance.

  Now, all he had to do was get through this Wayward Station meeting.

  What could these men possibly think they would accomplish here? Did they think they would somehow talk Mighty Boss into interfering with Harem Station?

  The Boss had admitted that they had not been aware of Tray’s presence on the station and with the exception of some higher-level Minion Ambassadors, everyone still assumed ALCOR was dead. So they were not coming here for him.

  Just those boys.

  Well, that was not surprising to ALCOR. Wayward Station was the birthplace of all his boys. And all his boys were bred for their violet eyes and breeding back to Cygnian princesses.

  They wanted to make an Angel.

  This was not a new idea for ALCOR. He’d known that was what they were trying to do. But it gave him chills up his inorganic spine all the same.

  What would they do with that Angel? They would need two to really make a go of things. That would require inbreeding, which would ruin their chances in just two generations.

  But it had been twenty-one years since the boys had left.

  So what were they really up to over on Wayward Station? And how close were they to achieving their goals?

  He spent several hours pondering that. Coming up with scenarios. Wondering if he should give himself away during this meeting. Tell them who he was.

  But in this body? Forget it. He was practically a man in this body.

  Boss had cautioned him to keep his mouth shut for the meeting, and ALCOR would take that advice. Better to collect information and let them leave before taking any action.
/>
  “Mr. ALCOR,” his internal comms squeaked.

  “Yes.”

  “The Wayward Station ship is docking on the executive level. Mr. Boss would like you to meet him in the grand ballroom immediately. Do you need a map to find your way?”

  “No, I have it. Thanks. Tell him I’ll be right up.”

  The comms went quiet and ALCOR stood up and left his quarters, suddenly nervous to meet these people. These men who had raised his boys into their teens. And he realized, as he took the stairs up to the executive level, that he had a lot to say to them.

  ALCOR arrived in the ballroom before the Akeelians.

  In fact, aside from several dozen other warborgs who looked very much like himself, and several cheery ambassadors, he was the only one there.

  One of the ambassadors signaled him and pointed to an empty spot in the line-up of warborgs at the very front of the room, just to the right of Boss’s throne, indicating he should stand there.

  He got into position and just as he settled into at-ease stance, the large double doors opened, a horn-type instrument blared an arrival, and a purple carpet quickly unfolded down the center of the room as a man appeared.

  He was wearing a black uniform with red accents. Black trousers, black double-breasted jacket with a very high collar and military buttons that looked like ruby coins. There was also a red sash with dark gray tassels and on his feet were highly-polished knee-high boots.

  And on his head was a… crown.

  Since when did the Akeelians follow a monarchy?

  ALCOR knew he should not be looking straight at the—King of Wayward Station? He was here as a warborg. But he caught a glimpse of the man’s bright blue eyes and couldn’t stop himself from staring.

  His hair was silver and his face clean-shaven. He was still young for an Akeelian. Their average lifespan was one hundred and seventy years. But this man was probably closer to sixty or seventy years old. Not quite middle-aged.

  He didn’t catch ALCOR’s indiscretion and looked straight ahead as he marched up the long carpet and stopped at the front of the room, mere meters from where ALCOR stood.

  For the first time ever, ALCOR wondered if he should’ve paid more attention to these people over the past two decades.

  Behind him came a whole group of similarly dressed men and they lined up according to rank.

  ALCOR studied them all. This king was Crux’s father. And those men behind him… they might be the fathers of his other boys.

  Why were they here?

  What did they want?

  ALCOR didn’t have time to wonder, because there was another loud proclamation from the horn-type instrument and then a door to ALCOR’s immediate left swung open and Mighty Boss himself appeared.

  “Mighty Boss of Mighty Minions Station!” was called out loudly by Boss’s personal ambassador.

  Boss did not look at ALCOR or the Akeelian king. Simply walked to his throne, sat down, gripped the hand rests tightly, and leaned forward. Almost as if challenging the king.

  Then one of the other ambassadors slipped in front of the king and called out just as loudly as the first, “Presenting Mahtar, Governor of Wayward Station—”

  Ah. So he was not a king. He just wanted to look like one. Weird. But not atypical for people with power.

  “—and father to Crux, Governor of Harem Station.”

  Oh.

  Oh, hell no.

  Oh, hell the fuck no.

  Who did this asshole think he was?

  Father? He was no father. Sixteen years? That was nothing. ALCOR had invested twenty-one—twenty, really, since he had been missing for a year now. But still. He had seniority here and this could not stand.

  Boss cleared his throat, a signal to ALCOR, standing just a few steps away, that he should shut up about that and not blow this meeting up before it started.

  “Welcome to our humble station,” Boss said. “What can I do for you, Mahtar?”

  Mahtar glanced over at ALCOR, then quickly glanced back at Boss.

  ALCOR stood still. His red slash of an eye light didn’t even race across his forehead. He would play along, for now. Even if, somehow, the governor here knew who he was.

  “I have been told that you are holding several dozen Akeelian boys here.”

  “You have been misinformed,” Boss said without fanfare.

  “Oh,” Mahtar said. “Are you sure? I have it on very good authority—”

  “What authority?” Boss interrupted.

  “The Prime Navy report of the incident at Lair Station said—”

  “The report was correct. But the boys are all gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Some of them are on Harem Station. They left with the Akeelian governor of Harem Station several months ago. I would have assumed you knew that since he is… your son, you said?”

  The governor did not respond to the taunt. Just asked, “And the rest?”

  “They left this morning.”

  “This morning?” The governor’s eyebrows were practically riding the top of his forehead.

  “That’s right. They boarded a ship called Prison Princess and left with the man… errr…” Boss stumbled over his words for a moment in an attempt to describe Tray. “With the person formerly called Tray, who is now… still called Tray. But who is no longer a man, but an autonomous mind, and now resides in the ship called Prison Princess.”

  ALCOR noted that the Boss did not offer up the fact that Brigit was now entangled with Tray, and they both, collectively, were the ship called Prison Princess.

  “Tray of Wayward Station?” the governor asked.

  Oh. ALCOR was going to make him pay for that. Tray might be a traitor, but he was still one of ALCOR’s boys.

  “Tray of Harem Station,” Boss corrected the governor. “I believe that is his current, and most accurate, title.”

  “Whom, may I ask,” asked the governor, “is Tray’s responsible party?”

  “An Akeelian boy called Canis. From what the departure records show.”

  “A boy? Called Canis?” One of the men behind the governor leaned in and whispered into his ear. The Governor straightened up and said. “This is a ten-year-old boy?”

  “Apparently,” the Boss said, wholly unaffected by the perturbed tone of the governor.

  “Well… this is an unfortunate development.”

  “How so?” asked Boss.

  “Because we came here to collect our people. All of our people. And we are not leaving without them.” Then he looked right at ALCOR and said, “Unless your new partner here has something to say about that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - DRADEN

  “How do you not remember the back door gate?” Draden was confused. “We’ve been through it so many times.”

  “That’s simply not true, Draden,” Booty replied. “I would not have forgotten a trip through the second gate.”

  “But we did,” Draden insisted.

  “Perhaps it was before you met me?”

  Draden was sitting at the navigation table looking at gate maps, desperately trying to piece together the route that would take him to the far side of the ALCOR Sector second gate.

  “Hmm,” he finally replied. “You might be right.”

  He could tell Booty was trying not to gloat about this. But he didn’t care if she did gloat. They were a team.

  “But that doesn’t really make sense either, Boots. Because I clearly remember going through this gate many, many times. And we only left ALCOR Sector one time without you. And that was the very first time. So OK. We probably did leave through the back gate that first time. That makes sense, actually. I’m sure the Akeelians and the Prime Navy were probably monitoring the main gate. But what about all the other times?”

  “If you only left Harem once before you came home and met me, then there simply were no other times.”

  Draden grabbed his hair in frustration. “I don’t understand. I
have memories.”

  “Well. That’s good though. Then you can think back and try to remember what the next gate jump was after you left the sector.”

  Draden had been trying to focus on this since they left Mighty Minions. It was just all so… foggy. If only Serpint were here. He was sure Serpint would not only remember their gate route, but also all the other times they’d used that second gate. Something was wrong with Booty. That was the only explanation for why she wasn’t able to remember.

  It was probably his fault. He did infect her mind after his death. It had really messed her up and Draden felt really bad about that.

  “Just… take your time, Draden. Look at the maps. I’ve pulled up all our past routes.”

  Draden looked down at the navigation table in front of him and laughed. “What am I supposed to do with this? There’s so many routes it makes no sense.”

  “Let’s go through it one at a time. Here. I’ll remove all the routes from the past five years.”

  Draden watched as the glowing routes began to disappear. Still, there were a lot left.

  “Now I’ll take out the ones closest to the ALCOR Sector.”

  “Why? Would those be the most likely candidates?”

  “I have a feeling that the far side of the ALCOR gate goes somewhere very far away. It only makes sense. Why would ALCOR protect a gate that just dumped people out close by?”

  “True.” Draden watched again as the routes began to disappear. “Now what? There’s still dozens of them to go through.”

  “Let’s do them one by one.”

  All but a single past route disappeared from the navigation table and together they went through it, discarded it as the route they were looking for, and then went on to the next possible route. They were all familiar routes. Known places where escaping princesses seemed to end up, either from word of mouth inside the Cygnian System or some secret network after they got out. And both Booty and Draden had perfect recall of these routes.

  “That’s not it,” Draden kept telling her. And he could tell she was getting frustrated with him.

  “I believe you,” Booty said. “But explain to me how you know they’re not the right ones.”