by Anna Carven
A chorus of birdsong pierces the still morning air, and I take a deep breath.
The air is crisp and cold, and my breath mists as it escapes my mouth.
Out here, it’s peaceful. I lean against the balcony railing, glass in hand, trying to forget my irrational fear. There’s nothing quite like sunrise in the desert. Thank Jupiter there are still some tranquil places on Earth.
Nova Terra was sterile and strange and had me constantly on edge. With Tarak going back and forth into space and the First Division soldiers acting as my silent shadows, I could never quite relax.
I take a sip of water and promptly spit it out again as a shadow drops from the roof.
Said shadow puts a hand on the railing and jumps over it, soundlessly landing on the deck.
“What are you doing out here dressed in only that?” Tarak glowers at me as I will my pounding heart to slow. “You don’t even have footwear,” he says disapprovingly. “This temperature is uncomfortable for Humans.”
“General,” I scold, “are you trying to give me a freaking heart attack? How many times have I told you not to snea-”
I squeal as he sweeps me up into his arms, blanket and all. The glass drops from my hand and rolls around on the deck. Thank goodness it’s artificial glass.
We’re soaked in orange now, as the rays of the early morning sun burst over the horizon.
Tarak squints, not liking the sunlight.
He stares back across the orchard, his attention drawn to something in the distance.
“What are you staring at, old woman?” His deep, commanding voice splits the stillness as he bellows at some unseen figure.
“I’m feeding the chooks, boy,” Kenna yells back. “Some of us have to work to keep this place up and running.”
I cringe. My partial state of undress suddenly has me feeling very self-conscious. “Let’s go inside,” I whisper to Tarak, wishing I could curl into a little ball and pull the blanket over my head.
“If you’re going to muck about with each other, do it inside,” my aunt yells, her cranky voice echoing through the silence. “Where’s your sense of responsibility, boy? She’ll get a chill if you stay out there for too long.”
“Hmph.” Tarak turns and steps inside, his ears twitching. “Disagreeable old crone,” he mutters under his breath.
I’m pretty sure my cheeks are flaming red with embarrassment right now.
“Are you not comfortable, amina?”
“What?” I’m actually very comfortable in his arms. He carries me about as if I’m as light as a feather, even in my current state. “I’m fine.”
“Then why do you have that look?”
“What look?”
“You wear the Human expression of shame.”
“Oh. Do I?” I shake my head, slightly flustered. “Well, it’s not every day that the woman who wiped your two-year-old ass catches you in the arms of your lover.”
Tarak looks bemused. “Mating and relationships are a part of life,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “There is nothing to feel embarrassed about.”
“I know that. I just… It’s hard to explain, but it’s a-”
“Human thing.” He completes my sentence.
“Yeah.” I laugh as he sets me down. “I think you’re finally starting to understand.”
“I will never understand Humans,” he says flatly, “complicated, contradictory, emotional, unpredictable creatures that you are.” A smile curves his lips. “You, especially.”
“Wait a min-” My jaw drops as I look down.
He’s completely naked.
Stark fucking naked.
How did I not notice this before? I swear he was fully dressed when he dropped from the roof.
There’s no way he was walking around out there naked, in full view of everyone. I know Kordolian males aren’t shy when it comes to showing off their manly bits, but jeez, this is Earth, not Kythia.
That means he’d drawn on his freaky exo-armor before, sneakily retracting it while he was holding me in his arms, hoping to distract me with his nakedness.
A cunning plan, but I know him too well.
“Ta-rak,” I say slowly, resisting the urge to ogle him. I could lay on the couch and watch him all day and never get anything done. “What are you up to?”
“What?” He tries his best to look innocent and fails miserably.
“You were creeping around on the roof in the early hours of the morning in your battle-suit.”
“I was surveying the area. There is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He manages to look slightly affronted. “I was not ‘creeping’.”
He’s secretive at the best of times, and I suspect I don’t know even a quarter of the various plots and projects he has going on at any one time, but right now I get the feeling he’s up to something.
That’s what happens when your mate is a renegade General from an evil empire.
“What’s going on, Akkadian?” I try again, even though I know it’s futile. Getting information out of him when he’s in cryptic Kordolian General mode is like praying for snow in the desert.
As if to sabotage my information gathering attempts further, my stomach growls loudly.
“You are hungry.” Tarak leaps at the opportunity to change subject. “You must take nourishment. I will go and ask the old crone to prepare something for you.”
I can’t deny that I’m starving. Pregnancy and serial orgasms can really take it out of a girl.
“Hm.” I regard him with a narrowed gaze, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “I know she’s eye-wateringly blunt, but that that woman fed me and put me through school, so I won’t have you calling her ‘old crone.’”
Tarak growls in irritation. “Very well. But only because you requested it.”
It’s a start.
Baby steps, Abbey. I remind myself that this is a man who’s used to being obeyed without question. He’s never had any time to learn social skills, let alone Human etiquette.
And my aunt isn’t the most welcoming type either.
My stomach rumbles again, louder this time.
He’s standing overwhelmingly close, looking down at me. Heat surges between my legs as I move closer to him, my body acting automatically.
Seconds later, my brain kicks in, and I realize he’s smiling.
He gently strokes the back of my neck as I lean into him, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.
Wrapped in my blanket, standing next to my naked Kordolian, I feel impossibly safe.
He touches my belly, his powerful arms curving around us. Our baby is quiet now, resting contently.
As for me, well now I’m terribly aroused, and from the, uh, feel of things down there, so his he.
Damn him, forcing me to choose between food and sex. I’ve been reduced to my most basic, primal urges, and it’s amazing.
If only life were always this simple.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tarak
One-and-a-half quants, or two Earth weeks since we arrived in this remote, barren place, Abbey has convinced me we need to travel to the nearest settlement, a place called Teluria. Apparently, we are to travel on something called a land vehicle, an ancient, cumbersome thing that has sat unused in the old woman’s storage house for far too long.
The land-vehicle is a primitive thing, constructed of metal and various polymers. I study it dubiously, wondering how such a cumbersome looking vehicle can traverse the unsurfaced terrain.
There is a large wheel at the front that I assume is the steering device. The body is rigid and heavy, and for reasons I cannot understand, there is a complete lack of any kind of roof.
It sits on four unstable looking wheels; giant, inflated things that elevate the vehicle to an impractical height.
The engine is at the front, covered by an array of panels that harvest and convert solar energy.
“You are not driving,” I tell Abbey with absolute certainty. “Not when yo
u are heavy with child.”
“But you don’t know how to drive a terrain-vehicle,” she protests. “Don’t worry. I’ve been driving these things since I was twelve. I’ll be fine.”
“You will not fit in that seat.”
“I so will fit in that seat.”
“No, Abbey, just no.” I cross my arms, glaring at her in exasperation. “What if we were to hit something?”
“We’re in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing to hit.” Her jaw is set at a stubborn angle. She glares back at me, her chin tilted upwards, her lips pressed together.
I almost find myself giving in.
She makes me want to yield.
She challenges me in a way no-one else can; in a way no-one else would dare.
I rather like it.
But this is about safety, so I will not give in.
Her stance softens. “Look, if you knew how to drive that thing, I’d let you get in the driver’s seat right now. But you don’t, so it’s up to me.”
I look at the silly vehicle disdainfully. “I have not yet encountered a single vehicle in the entire universe that I can’t master.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Oh? Try me.” I bare my fangs. “I will wager you I can master this thing before you finish fastening your safety restraint.”
“You want to bet,” she says flatly. “So what are we betting, General?”
I stare at her lustfully. She’s wearing the kashkan I bought for her. It drapes nicely over her ripe body, accentuating her curves. Her lush hair is arranged on top of her head, wrapped in a blue scarf, her pale neck bare and elegant. Like me, she wears dark glasses that conceal her eyes.
I look her up and down. “I will determine the price when I win,” I say slowly.
“That’s still a very big if, Tarak,” she retorts. “Go on then, I’m looking forward to seeing you fall off your high horse for once.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she’s smiling.
At least she is amused.
I turn and signal to my soldiers and Zyara, who are seated under a lone tree, out of the harsh sun. “Come.”
They lope towards the vehicle, jumping into the back.
I offer Zyara the front seat, beside Abbey, who is sitting between us. “Keep an eye on her,” I tell the medic.
Zyara nods coolly, her face concealed by a light scarf, protecting her from the sun.
It is affecting all of us, except Abbey. She seems to be enjoying it. My soldiers have also covered their faces and hidden their eyes, unused to Earth’s unique climate.
I am the only Kordolian foolish enough to face the morning sun. Even I won’t last long before the light from that infernal star starts to burn my skin. At least in my case, the nanites are constantly repairing the damage, but I still find the sensation irritating.
I wrap the soft black scarf around my face, my skin finding instant relief from the burn.
I take the driver’s seat. Sitting beside me, Abbey presses her palm to some sort of ignition panel.
The vehicle roars to life.
I’ll admit; there seems to be power under that ungainly solarcell hood.
There are two pedals underfoot; I assume one is for acceleration, and the other is for braking. I tap one experimentally, and the vehicle lurches forward, eliciting a gasp from Abbey as she grips my arm tightly.
That is the accelerator.
The other is the brake.
I press the brake, and the vehicle slows.
Accelerator, brake.
Simple.
The vehicle’s motion becomes smoother as I familiarize myself with the controls, driving it with ease. It’s actually ridiculously simple. I glance at my mate, feeling more than a little smug. “As I said, my reward shall be determined later.”
“You’re going the wrong way,” she says dryly, before I have time to savor my victory.
I’ve fought many battles, but these kinds of victories are the sweetest.
“You didn’t tell me what direction we were supposed to take.” My ears twitch under the scarf.
“Teluria is south of here.” She points to a mapping system on the control panel. “See?”
I swing the vehicle around. “And remind me again, why is it so important that we go to Teluria?” We have been living on the remote property for the equivalent of two Earth weeks now, without incident. After much arguing and protesting, I have finally allowed her to make this trip, although it doesn’t sit well with me. “Why could we not just use Darkshadow to go there?”
“We need to buy baby stuff. Clothes, toys, booties… diapers. And Teluria’s huge. You can’t just land on the outskirts and walk all over town. Trust me. The Outer Ring is a mess.”
“Diapers?” I have no idea what she’s going on about.
She laughs, a sinister sound that has me instantly on edge. “Oh, you’ll learn about diapers, daddy. Trust me; you’ll learn quick.”
Abbey
Our trip to Teluria is relatively uneventful, considering I’m sitting in a vehicle full of Kordolians; my own personal military entourage. At first, Tarak absolutely refused to let me go into town. It took me two weeks to convince him. After our last argument, he finally agreed, on the condition that we all go together. So I have an armed guard consisting of himself and three large Kordolian males and Zyara, who’s also probably packing something. I’m sure they have all sorts of weapons concealed under their plain Kordolian robes.
What does he think might happen; an abduction attempt?
On Earth, such things are unheard of.
With our rugged terrain vehicle towering above the stream of bot-cars, one would think we’d stand out, but most people don’t give us a second glance, because Telurians are used to strange things.
Teluria’s skyport is Earth’s main entry point for alien traffic, and the locals here have seen it all before. Teluria is a trade town; vast sums of money pass through here, giving rise to all kinds of activity, both legal and illegal. The locals are a diverse, eclectic mix of Humans, and various aliens who have ended up making Earth their home.
Some of the aliens come here willingly; some are left behind, stranded and penniless, with no way to reach their home planets.
We exit the main stream of traffic and turn down a narrow alley. After following the alley for a while, the road starts to become patchy and poorly maintained. The buildings on either side of us are a strange collection of styles, ranging from badly maintained late twenty-second century structures to cheap, modern pre-formed affairs, with their fabricated box-like rooms and polymer windows.
We’re heading for a place called Darkside, where almost anything can be traded or bought.
It’s the only place where one can exchange Sector One Imperial credits for a currency that can be traded on Earth.
In my rush to come to Teluria to do baby shopping, I’d forgotten one crucial thing.
I’m totally broke. My credit account is completely overdrawn.
Termination of employment by abduction can do that to you.
I was supposed to get some sort of compensation payment from the corporation that ran Fortuna Tau, but the company declared bankruptcy soon after the mining station ceased to exist. I know Tarak’s boys had something to do with the complete destruction of Fortuna Tau, but he’s never really explained what happened back there.
I’m just glad most of the workers, including my friends, made it out of there alive.
“Are you sure you know where we are going, female? This location is not indicated on the navigator.” Tarak’s grumpy voice cuts through my reverie. To my surprise, he drives like a total grandfather. I somehow assumed he’d be a speed demon, but I guess being a badass in real life doesn’t necessarily equate to being a badass driver.
“That’s because we’re in the grey zone,” I explain, as we hit a minor pothole. Luckily this terrain vehicle has good shock absorbers. “It won’t show up on the standard mapping systems. But I know my w
ay around.”
“This is some kind of… illegal district?”
“Semi-legal,” I correct him.
“And you are familiar with this place?”
“Kind of,” I shrug, putting on my best innocent look.
“Hm.” I can’t see Tarak’s expression underneath the thin scarf concealing his face, but I know he’s curious. I know what he’s thinking. What reason could a nice girl like me possibly have to come to a place like this?
“I used to trade biomaterial for money,” I say quietly, so softly only he can hear. “Plant and fruit genetic material, mainly. After dad died, Kenna and I were desperate for cash.”
A random thought occurs to me. Maybe that’s why I saw pineapples onboard a freighter heading for Kythia.
Maybe that was my doing.
That’s freaky.
We reach a familiar landmark; the dilapidated corner cafe called Greasers. Its old-fashioned brightly lit pink sign casts a lurid glow across the street.
“Turn left here,” I whisper, as Tarak carefully rounds the corner. Shops and restaurants and dive-bars start to appear amongst brightly lit advertising boards. There’s a bit of foot-traffic here; it grows denser as we head for the center of Darkside.
Humans and aliens of all kinds walk alongside each other, the stream of foot-traffic becoming a dense crowd, which parts before us as we roll down the street. I see shoppers dressed to the nines, their porter-bots trundling behind them. A busker sits on the pavement, creating a complex tune on his digi-pad. A guy dressed in an old-fashioned tailored suit watches us with a cold black stare as we pass. Only Darkside gangsters wear those kinds of suits.
Darkside seems a whole lot busier than it used to be.
But then again, I haven’t been here for years, and galactic trade with Earth has increased dramatically since then.
The upside is that we don’t stand out amongst all the weird and wonderful souls that frequent this place. A terrain-vehicle full of sun-averse Kordolian warriors, a purple-haired medic and one very pregnant Human?
