by Anna Carven
It’s strange though; the dogs aren’t out. Usually Nyx and Zeus would have been slobbering all over me by now.
The house looms before us, dark and imposing apart from the few windows that are lit up. It’s a ramshackle collection of original buildings with added-on modifications. Although my father had some modern prefab structures erected out the back, Kenna prefers to stay in the old house.
As we make our way up the front steps, a familiar shadow appears behind the flyscreen door.
“What have you dragged into my place now, Abbey girl?” Kenna peers at us, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in Tarak. In her weathered hands is an old-fashioned metal bullet shotgun. “And you’ve gotten yourself knocked up,” she says, with a disapproving frown.
I reach the flyscreen door and yank it open, putting a hand on the shotgun. “Relax, aunty. There’s no need for that.” I push the barrel down so it’s pointing at the floor.
Tarak growls, moving to step between us. “Don’t touch that weapon, amina.”
“Is he the father?” Kenna glares at Tarak, her blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. She has gunmetal grey hair that’s cropped short and a tough, weathered face. She’s as lean as a whip; quick and wiry, despite her age.
Behind us, Zyara and the Kordolian troops are standing awkwardly in the driveway, sensibly keeping their distance.
“Aunty Kenna,” I say slowly, in an even, placating tone, “this is Tarak, my Kordolian mate and the father of my unborn child.” I omit a few details, like: ‘Former General of the Kordolian Imperial Military’ and ‘biologically altered elite soldier’.
I turn to Tarak. “Tarak, this is my Aunty Kenna.”
Tarak and Kenna glare at each other in a tense standoff. They’re both stone-faced, neither of them saying a word. But at least my aunt’s relaxed a little and lowered her gun.
Finally, Kenna speaks. “You should have sent word,” she grumbles. “I would have had more time to get dinner going.”
“It’s your fault for refusing to get any connectivity in this place. What do you expect me to do; send you notice by actual letter-mail like some eccentric paranoid quadrillionaire? Do you know how much that would cost?”
Kenna inclines her head, as if she’s actually serious. I sigh. Tarak glowers.
“At least this boy looks more serious than your last one,” Kenna says sternly. I resist the urge to drop my face into my palm. The problem with this tough lady is that she doesn’t have a filter.
Her tendency to speak her mind used to get her into all kinds of trouble.
“Can we not talk about that in front of Tarak?” I glance at him, feeling a little awkward. “That’s ancient history.”
Tarak’s ears twitch.
“Hmph.” Kenna rebuffs me with a dismissive wave of her hand as she lowers the gun to her side. “Come on in then. I’ll get the oven going.” She looks over my shoulder, noticing the Kordolians standing in the driveway. ‘Those your friends too, then? You better not be passing yourself around between them like I’ve heard goes on with some of these aliens.”
“Watch yourself, Human,” Tarak growls. “Or I will shoot you with that foolish weapon of yours.”
Canny old Kenna grins. “He’s a bit different to those idiots you used to go around with, isn’t he?”
I cringe. Tarak looks as if he’s ready to break something.
“I think I like this one,” Kenna remarks, before disappearing into the house. “I’ll put some dinner on,” she calls, her voice drifting down the hall. “You can all stay in the ice cubes out the back, just like you used to. Just don’t be having any drunken orgies.”
“Jeez, that was like, fifteen years ago,” I yelp, suddenly embarrassed. “And there weren’t any ‘orgies’.” I’d like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then. In my university days, I had my share of wild flings and one-night stands. I was young and foolish back then.
“Do Human females all become insane in their old age?” Tarak shakes his head. “Is this the woman who raised you?”
“Pretty much,” I shrug. “Ignore her. She’s just trying to get a reaction out of you.”
“She disrespected you, and she’s stubborn.” Tarak turns and beckons to his people, who join us on the front porch. “I can understand better now why you are also stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn.”
“You must also teach our child to be stubborn. It is a good trait.”
“I told you, I’m not stubborn.”
“Hm.”
“Let’s go inside.” It’s getting too chilly out here for my comfort. I show our guests inside, feeling a little giddy. We enter the old house. What an odd procession we make; a Kordolian pilot, two armed-to-the-teeth guards, a lilac-haired medic, the General, and I.
And my old aunt Kenna, who is as paranoid as hell, has just taken it all in her stride.
But then again, her mistrust is mainly towards Humans, not aliens.
I take the Kordolians straight through the house and out onto the back porch, which overlooks a small grove of orange trees between the house and the modern buildings my father built that Kenna calls the ‘ice cubes’.
The view from the back is completely different. The front of the house is deceptively ramshackle and dry. Out here, green lawns stretch across land that curves slightly downwards, illuminated by soft lighting along the garden paths. To one side is a vegetable garden, and chickens and ducks roam around freely.
The ‘ice-cubes’ are two sleek glass-and-metal structures rise beyond the orchard. They’re the twin houses that dad built with his generous salary, before he died. One was for me, the other for him. They’re lit up like galleries in the darkness. The glass walls of the houses absorb energy from the sun during the day and emit it at night.
The sight sends a sudden, unexpected pang of sadness through me.
Dad never lived long enough to enjoy these beautiful buildings or realize his dream. He’d always wanted to turn this place into a fully functioning biotech facility, capable of engineering hyper-productive fruit trees.
Tarak is gazing at the scene below, a strange look in his eyes.
I wonder what he thinks about all this. Does he think I’m foolish and sentimental for wanting to come out here? Maybe the things we Humans think are wonderful seem petty and insignificant to to Kordolians.
He speaks to his soldiers in Kordolian, and the males spread out, disappearing across the back lawn and into the darkness.
“We are going to check the perimeter,” he says softly. The sun has all but disappeared now, and beyond the relative safety of the orchard, everything is black.
Up above, the stars are impossibly clear in the night sky.
Tarak leaves me on the porch, joining his soldiers, who have already slipped into the cold embrace of darkness. The chickens scatter as he walks across the orchard, a stalking black figure, silent and lethal.
Then, he’s gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tarak
We scour the perimeter, splitting up to search for any sign of life; anything that might indicate that we’re being watched, but we find nothing. Out here, there is just sand, dirt, small scraggly bushes, and the occasional odd Earth creature.
At one point, a strange warm-blooded animal crosses my path. It has two large hind legs and a long tail, and it propels itself by jumping.
During all my galactic travels, I have never seen such a bizarre looking animal.
I’m sure Abbey didn’t consider this, but from a defensive standpoint, this area is an ideal location. There is no cover and potential enemies would be easy to spot.
Now that it’s dark and the temperature has dropped, I’m infinitely more comfortable.
I’m sure my soldiers feel the same.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” I ask them through the neuro-comm, which I’ve had re-implanted behind my ear, its complex biosynthetic circuitry threading directly into my auditory nerve. It’s my hidden link to the universe while I remain on Earth, b
ut should I desire privacy, I can also turn it off when I wish, by pressing a small button.
It is much more discreet and convenient than the holo-comm I use to talk to civilians.
“No, Sir,” they answer, one by one. Like me, they’re First Division soldiers. I have taken the liberty of recalling them from one desert and posting them in another.
“Just sand and rocks and bushes out here, boss. Some tasty looking wild animals, though.”
“Good. Set up a trip perimeter. Afterwards, you may hunt.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I leave them and make my way towards Darkshadow. The flyer is camouflaged from above by nothing more than a thin holographic representation of the surrounding terrain.
The hatch opens as it recognizes my biological signature. I pass through the dark interior. From the weapons cache, I retrieve a pair of Callidum longswords, two plasma guns and a sheathed Callidum dagger that I hide in the folds of my robes.
I seat myself at the controls and open up a secure communication with the rest of my First Division. Although I could talk to them non-visually through the discreet neuro-comm, I want to get a visual of their situation, as I am curious to know what they’re dealing with.
“What’s your status, Kalan?” The big gunner is my unofficial second-in-command, although the First Division consider each other to be equals. He appears on my holoscreen, his rugged face streaked with dirt.
“Give me a fraction of a siv, General. We’ve got incoming.” He’s breathing heavily. I expand the holovision. He appears to be in some sort of stone tunnel; a narrow space with a low roof that forces Kalan to duck his head.
For a Kordolian of Kalan’s size, fighting in such close quarters isn’t a great idea. But I mindfully hold my tongue. He appears to be in the middle of a combat situation.
The First Division has been fighting the Xargek without me ever since I left them on the Human mining station, and Kalan doesn’t need my uninformed input at this critical moment.
“They’re coming!” I recognize Rykal’s voice as it echoes down the tunnel.
It’s followed by a familiar chittering sound.
“Smoke the fuckers,” Rykal yells. He’s outside of my vision, so it’s difficult to locate him, but I think he’s farther up the tunnel.
“On it,” Kalan yells. “Get your ass out of here!”
He starts to run, his image shaking as he takes big strides down the tunnel. “Sorry General, just gotta take care of something first.”
As he reaches the end of the tunnel, he turns and pulls a heavy-duty plasma cannon from his back, hefting it over his shoulder. I rotate the vision and see a horde of juvenile Xargek larvae racing towards him.
“All clear?”
“Clear!”
“I’m gonna burn ‘em.”
“Do it, Kal.”
He activates the cannon, its blue charge indicator flickering. “Gonna be a bit of interference on your end, General.”
“Stop talking and fire the fucking thing, Kalan,” I growl.
“Sir!”
There’s a deafening roar, and then the holoscreen goes blank as he discharges a powerful blast at the Xargek.
I wait, and eventually the vision flickers back to life, accompanied by Kalan’s harsh breathing.
He’s running down the narrow tunnel. It opens into a large, cavernous area filled with stone statues that depict strange Earth creatures. Indecipherable markings are etched into the walls.
Some sort of religious temple, perhaps?
But Kalan doesn’t have time to enjoy the scenery.
He sprints across the wide space, entering another narrow tunnel. I get the sense he’s heading upwards.
Are they underground?
He pushes forward, grunting with the effort, the vision becoming shaky and grainy. Although he’s carrying a heavy plasma cannon on his back, he never falters.
The holo-vision flashes white as Kalan bursts out of the tunnel and into the light.
He rolls to the side as several of the Xargek pour out of the exit, skittering across a dune of golden sand. Some of them are missing limbs, and tendrils of smoke rise from their chitinous exoskeletons.
“Fuckin’ sunlight,” Kalan grunts, hefting his cannon as he activates his helm, shielding his face from the harsh ultraviolet light.
It is dark here, and light there. Clearly, they are on the other side of the planet.
He fires again, and again the vision goes momentarily blank.
When the projection is restored again, Kalan has retreated to another small tunnel, out of the blinding sunlight. He’s removed his helm, and he wipes the dirt from his face.
“Sorry, boss,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Just a little infestation we had to smoke out. They’ve gone down into these fuckin’ Human-built tunnels and multiplied like cursed vorchek, but at least we’ve been able to contain them. We’re just finishing off the dirty work now, cooking them underground before they can escape and infest the nearby Human settlement.” He shakes his head in frustration. “But whenever we think we’ve got the last of them, another clutch of larvae appears. There’s gotta be a Queen down there somewhere.”
“Do you need reinforcements?”
“Not yet. You might be interested to know that the Humans are working on something they reckon is gonna take care of these Xargek once and for all. Some sort of biological fix, they say.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” I say dryly. “Very well, carry on with your strategy, but alert me if you require backup. Don’t waste too much time chasing insects in the catacombs. I will have need of you soon.”
“Got it. Once we get the Queen, it’s all over.”
“Good. And Kalan?”
“Yeah, Sir?”
“I am informed that you have found yourself a Human.”
“Uh,” he shifts awkwardly.
“Are you mated?”
“Well-”
“If you’re mated, then you’re mated,” I snap. “I trust you are treating her well.”
Kalan gapes, an expression rarely seen on his hard, battle-worn face. “Y-yeah. She’s completely nuts, but somehow, it just works between us.”
“Good.” I have no doubt that my most experienced soldier will treat his female well. “Then I wish you a successful hunt. Keep me informed.”
“Always, boss.” Unable to help himself, Kalan executes a fist-on-chest salute. Once military, always military.
I kill the communication, and his three-dimensional image flickers out.
The last thing I do is retrieve a device from inside my robes. It’s the drone-cam I plucked from the air when I was with Abbey; the one that was following us on Nova Terra.
It might be nothing but a harmless journalistic device, but I have my suspicions. Most of those cursed journalists gave up on bothering us a long time ago, after I warned them in no uncertain terms that the next footage they took would be their last.
I would be surprised if any of them had ignored my warning. No; this seems to be a different type of surveillance device.
I drop it into a message capsule and enter three simple commands.
Dismantle.
Identify.
Trace.
I drop the capsule into its chute and enter the destination: Silence.
A press of a button is all it takes for the launch chute to fire the capsule into the sky. It will punch through the atmosphere and enter space, where it will activate its own propulsion systems and head for the warship.
Once it arrives on Silence, a team of technologists will carry out my bidding.
Being a Human-made device, it shouldn’t take them long to analyze.
Having completed what I set out to do, I leave the flyer and walk into the cold, clear night, carrying a small arsenal of weapons.
These will be carefully hidden from view, because I do not wish to concern my mate with such trivial things.
She does not need to suspect that anything is amiss. She has a much more
important task ahead of her, and I do not want to burden her with unnecessary worry.
Abbey
As we go back indoors, I’m bowled over by two over-excited black furballs.
“Hey Nyx, hey Zeus,” I gush, as the dogs swarm around me, their tails wagging. Nyx is a midnight black kelpie, and Zeus is a dopey black labrador.
It’s been years since we’ve seen each other.
Nyx rears up on her hind legs, trying to put her paws on me. I bat her away, mindful of my pregnant belly. “Get down, girl.”
Zeus makes a low doggy sound of pleasure deep in his throat as he circles me. I reach down and pat both of them. “Good boy. Good girl,” I say approvingly.
Zyara is standing out of the way, looking wary. “These are… Earth creatures?”
At the sound of her voice, the dogs look at her, their ears pricking up. They stare at her curiously, but make no attempt to approach her.
Strange. These dogs are usually so friendly, even with strangers.
They’re not afraid, though. They’re just wary of the unknown.
Zyara stares at the dogs with a dubious expression. “They have quite prominent canines. Do they not bite?”
I laugh. “Zeus is a big old teddy bear. He won’t bite anyone. Nyx hunts rabbits sometimes, but she won’t bite people.”
“Oh.” Zyara elegantly brushes a stray bit of black dog fur off her impeccable white robes. With her imposing height, long, slender limbs and angular features, she looks like some sort of ethereal fairytale elf-queen.
“They won’t bite,” I reassure her. I point to her. “Nyxie, Zeus boy, go and say hello. Say hello to the pretty Kordolian lady.”
Slowly, the dogs approach Zyara, Nyx going first.
She nudges Zyara’s hand with her nose.
“Give her a pat,” I suggest.
Tentatively, Zyara strokes the sleek fur on Nyx’s head. The dog closes her eyes and sits down.
“I think she likes you.”
A hint of a smile graces Zyara’s dark lips. “I have heard about the strange creatures on Earth. These ‘dogs’ are interesting animals.”
Emboldened by Nyx’s reaction, Zeus steps forward, nudging himself under Zyara’s other hand. He can’t let her be the center of attention, after all.
