Into the Light: SciFi Alien Romance (Dark Planet Warriors Book 5)

by Anna Carven

  Nothing to see here, people, move along.

  I glance behind me at the three Kordolian soldiers who have tagged along with us. They’re taking everything in their stride, quietly chattering amongst themselves, as if they’ve been here a thousand times before. I guess these guys are used to visiting strange new planets.

  We pass through the pleasure district, heading for the bunker-like offices of Bank Street.

  It’s an ironic name; no-one actually uses banks anymore.

  “Stop here,” I tell Tarak, as we roll to a halt outside a building with blacked out windows. Makeshift frequency blockers bristle from the roof; odd metallic dishes and twisted antennae jutting out at strange angles to form a strange metal canopy.

  The building has no name, but everyone knows it.

  “This is the place.” Two armed guards stand out the front, wearing Armium-plate vests. They’re both packing bolt-cannons.

  I don’t remember them being here last time. Have things gotten dangerous in Darkside?

  “This is the place?” Tarak asks skeptically.

  “You want to get rid of your Imperial Credits? This is the place.”

  “Hm.” Tarak signals to one of his boys. “Lodan, you come with us. Jeral and Nythian, you will guard the vehicle, and keep an eye on those guards. Zyara, come or stay. Whatever you wish.”

  “I’ll stay here,” the medic says. “This place is interesting. I want to observe a little.”

  We slide out, Zyara helping me down the metal steps at the side of the vehicle. Tarak brings me to his side as the guy called Lodan, who I recognize as Darkshadow’s pilot, follows close behind us.

  The Kordolians keep their faces concealed under their light scarves. With their imposing heights and dark, exotic robes, they look mysterious and threatening.

  The two Human guards at the entrance approach us. “State your business,” one of them says.

  Before Tarak can do anything unpredictable, I step in front of him. “We’re here to exchange credits.” The guard looks me up and down in disbelief, noticing my pregnant belly. His stare borders on lecherous.

  Tarak growls. I put a hand against his chest as I glare at the guard. “Are you going to just stand there all day gaping, or are you going to let us in?”

  The guard grunts and mutters something into his comm. The doors slide open. “Security check first.” He points to a glass-walled room just inside the entrance. “Oceania Group would kindly request that you leave any weapons at the door.” He smiles wolfishly, staring at Tarak and Lodan. “It’s company policy.”

  Tarak snorts softly. “As if I would need any weapons to kill the likes of you,” he mutters under his breath. I elbow him in the side.

  “There will be no killing,” I say quietly, through clenched teeth. Tarak says nothing, placing a reassuring hand on the small of my back as we pass into a weapons clearing area.

  A stout, matronly looking woman dressed in a security uniform approaches us. She’s got short, curly greying hair and a jagged scar across one eyebrow. “Show us what you’re packing, boys, or else I’ll have to do a strip-and-search.” She cackles evilly. “Although I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on the likes of you.”

  Tarak leans down and whispers in my ear. “Is all this really necessary just for currency exchange? I would rather not abandon my weapons.”

  I sigh. “I know it seems excessive, but this is probably the only place on Earth that will take Imperial credits. And security checks are standard operating procedure in most of these places.”

  “I would rather order a shipment of goods from Sector One.”

  “That’ll take at least six months. We could probably make cloth diapers from some of Aunty Kenna’s linens,” I shudder, “but it’s not ideal.”

  I glance at the security lady. She’s waiting expectantly, her arms crossed over her generous chest.

  “Sir?” Lodan looks at his boss.

  We’re at a crossroads. I’m sure Tarak’s danger-sense is being challenged in a big way right now. I’ve stretched him to the limits by asking him to go against his protective instincts.

  “I don’t like it,” he grates. “It seems unnecessarily risky.”

  I put my lips close to his ear. “We’ve been in way worse situations before,” I whisper. “We have to live, Tarak. Wherever we go, there’s going to be some kind of potential danger. If it isn’t a threat from the Kordolian Empire, it’s going to be Human spies or Darkside gangsters.”

  “The last two are not a threat.”

  “I’m sure you would have no problem dealing with them, but what I’m trying to say is that there is always something out there in the Universe that could kill you. I refuse to live in fear. I’m not going to let fear dictate to me.”

  “You don’t really know the Universe, my love. What you’ve seen has only scratched the surface.” His voice is both dark and gentle.

  Something powerful stirs inside me. I drag him to the corner, ignoring Lodan and the security lady.

  I pull him close to me, and he leans in so I can speak softly, my voice dropping so low that it’s nothing but a breathless whisper. “This isn’t easy for me either. I have nothing right now but you and our child. Depending on someone else for money goes against all of my instincts, but if it’s you, I don’t mind, because I’ve given myself to you completely.”

  “Hm.” He’s gone still. A low, protective rumble escapes him, reverberating deep in his chest.

  “So, we have to live. And we’re having a baby. Babies need stuff, Tarak, and I want our child to have everything. I could scrounge money from Kenna, and Sera has offered to help me with anything I need, but the only being I can ever allow myself to depend on is you. So let’s go in there and exchange these Imperial credits of yours, because even without weapons, I know I’ll be completely safe if I’m with you.”

  “Hey lovebirds,” the security guard yells, cutting through the silence. “We don’t have all day. Show me your weapons and get inside, or get out.”

  Ignoring her, Tarak puts an arm around me. “Just this once,” he growls. “I will lay down my weapons just this once.”

  “You’re probably in one of the safest places on Earth,” I reassure him. “It’s in their interests to keep this place secure. Violence is bad for business.”

  I can’t read his expression underneath the scarf, but he’s looking at me something fierce.

  He’s still and quiet, and part of me fears he’s about to bundle me up, take me home and lock me away in some heavily guarded fortress.

  His large hand curves around my neck, caressing my sensitive skin. “I love you,” he murmurs, so softly I almost miss it; so quietly no-one else hears.

  My heart hammers. A warm, happy feeling unfurls in my chest.

  Sweet, impossible man.

  He’s an expert at dropping panty-melting, heart-squeezing bombshells when I least expect them.

  It’s a devastating war tactic.

  Before I have time to react, he’s turning me around, dragging me by the hand back to the inspection bay. I close my wide-open jaw.

  The security lady regards us with a sly look. “Hate to spoil your lovers’ tiff and all, but the boss doesn’t like it if the customers spend too much time in this here cage. If you want to speed things up, I can do a strip search,” she offers.

  “In your dreams, lady,” I snap, and she laughs, staring up at the two Kordolians with poorly-concealed fascination.

  “Time to remove those wraps and sunnies,” she says. “Let’s see those pretty faces of yours, my honeys.”

  Tarak rips the scarf from his face and removes his dark glasses, storing them in some unseen pocket in his robes. He bares his fangs. “Be careful what you wish for, Human,” he snarls. “Some of us bite.”

  “Oh, my.” The lady’s eyelids flutter as Lodan also removes his scarf. The softly-spoken Kordolian pilot is younger than Tarak, with fine, elegant features and striking golden eyes. Unlike the hard-faced General, he’s quite pretty f
or a Kordolian, in an almost feminine way. He’s not my type, because I only have one type, but I can see how some of these Kordolian boys might appeal to the ladies. “I wasn’t expecting Kordolians,” she gushes. “Show me your weapons, boys.”

  Tarak gives her an irritated sidelong glance and reluctantly starts to fish various weapons from underneath his robes. Lodan follows suit.

  Four plasma guns, two short swords, three daggers, three small bombs and one vicious looking garrote-thing later, we’re finally allowed through the security point after a brief body scan.

  “If you touch any of those, you will be punished,” Tarak warns the security lady, glancing at the rather substantial pile of dark alien weapons.

  “…-unish me any time.” The woman mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously saucy.

  I throw her a death-glare. How dare she look at my mate like that?

  As we pass, I pause beside her. “Do all male customers visiting Oceana Group get such special treatment from you?”

  She manages to look somewhat guilty. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot, girlie. I know he’s yours. Lord, the way he looks at you? But an old biddy like me has to take whatever tiny thrills she can get. I don’t mean nothing by it.”

  I swallow the tirade I’d prepared earlier, settling on a slightly strangled laugh. “You’re just lucky I’m here, lady.” I shake my head. She really has no idea. I shudder to think what the old Tarak would have done in such a situation.

  He wouldn’t have agreed to surrender his weapons to Humans, that’s for sure.

  Tarak

  “I will repeat myself only once, Human,” I snap, losing patience. “I wish to exchange ten Grand Imperial Kavroons.”

  “K-kavroons?” The Human currency broker, or whatever he is, punches something into his terminal, his eyes wide. “Let me just look that up.”

  “It’s Kordolian currency,” Abbey adds, trying to be helpful. As if that isn’t obvious. The ignorance of Humans never fails to surprise me. Fucking Humans. Why can’t they just accept Kordolian currency like almost every other planet in the Kaiin-cursed Nine Galaxies?

  “I’m just going to get the manager.” The Human smooths his grey jacket nervously and disappears into a back door.

  I take the opportunity to analyze our surroundings. Lodan lounges near the exit, looking deceptively relaxed. But I know he’s marking everything and everyone in this room. At the first sign of danger, he will be back inside the ‘cage’, retrieving his weapons.

  This place is at odds with its shabby exterior. Inside, high, vaulted ceilings rise towards an ornately patterned roof embedded with a cluster of glittering lights. I assume they are supposed to represent stars.

  Numerous discreet booths line the room, and a Human worker is assigned to each one, serving various customers. Not all of the clients are Human. I spot a pair of Ifkin males being ushered into a booth opposite us.

  I watch them carefully as they pass, my senses on alert.

  They are short two-legged creatures with stark white skin and hairless heads. Wide foreheads and hairless, ridged brows overhang small, glowing blue eyes. They lack noses and have small, lipless mouths set above a narrow chin. Their upper limbs resemble normal arms, but they also possess a pair of lower accessory limbs, which hang limply by their sides.

  One of them pauses, his behind-eyes opening. The Ifkin have four eyes; two in front, and two at the base of their skulls. Without turning his head, he stares at me with a baleful glowing blue gaze.

  “Excuse me, sir?” The Human broker is back, along with another senior looking Human. This one has dark skin and brown eyes. His hair has been arranged in intricate knotted patterns that stretch the length of his scalp.

  He wears a neat black suit. Its only ornamentation is a small, silver pin in the shape of a bloom, attached to his breast.

  He smiles as he sits in front of us. I tap the desk, impatient to be on my way.

  This Human place is making me uneasy. There are too many unknown variables here, and I’m at a distinct disadvantage.

  I’m unfamiliar with this environment.

  As we drove into this chaotic, disorganized Human settlement, I once again experienced the sensation of being watched. I wonder if my mate’s pregnant state is making me over-vigilant. My fingers twitch, yearning for the familiar sensation of a hilt or trigger.

  I feel as if many eyes are upon us.

  “I hear you have Kavroons for me.” This new broker wastes no time, not even bothering with an introduction. “It’s not every day we get someone coming in here with Imperial Kavroons, let alone ten of them. In fact, I’ve never seen one in my lifetime. I’ll tell you what. You’re going to empty our networks today, but I can offer you fifteen billion Earth credits.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. Money is of little consequence to me, and bartering seems like such a tasteless practice. I just want to finish and be out of here. This amount should tide us over for the time being. As long as I can pay my soldiers and buy Abbey the things she desires, it should suffice. I have plenty more Kavroons stored away, courtesy of the Imperium’s coffers, and when those run out, we can contract out our services as mercenaries to some of the lesser planets.

  But first, the Empire must fall.

  I am about to accept the offer when Abbey leans forward. “Fifteen billion?” She rolls her eyes. “What do you take us for; idiots who’ve never left Earth’s orbit? I would think twenty billion would be a more reasonable figure.”

  The broker doesn’t miss a beat. “That might have been true a few months ago, but we all know the Kordolian Empire isn’t what it used to be since half of them decided to break away and make Earth their home.” He shrugs, giving me a pointed look. “Currency fluctuates. Kordolian credits have been on the downslide lately.”

  “I was quoting twenty with those adjustments in mind,” my mate says dryly. I raise my eyebrows as I glance at her.

  The broker frowns. “That exceeds our currently available daily transfer limit. If you want to walk away with the whole amount today, you’re going to have to settle for less.”

  Abbey stiffens, her eyes locking with the broker’s. They sit like that for a moment, as if they’re waiting for some unseen signal.

  Then it starts.

  “I’ll give you fifteen-five, final offer,” the broker snaps.

  Abbey laughs. “Please, don’t insult me. Nineteen billion is reasonable.”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Eighteen and a half.”

  “You’re dreaming, lady. I’ll give you sixteen and that’s absolutely final.”

  “Seventeen.”

  “You’re kidding. Sixteen-three, and that’s it. I can’t offer you any more; the networks are absolutely maxed.”

  I watch the two Humans in mild fascination, especially my mate. She haggles like a seasoned pirate-trader. Where did she learn to do that? As she opens her mouth to protest, I squeeze her hand.

  “Enough,” I say. “Take the offer.”

  She pouts, looking most adorable. “Fine. Sixteen-three it is, even though I know you’re going to make a killing trading those Kavroons.”

  The broker keeps his expression carefully composed. “You’re getting a good deal, lady. There isn’t anywhere else on the planet you’ll be able to offload those Kordolian credits.” He turns his dark gaze towards me. “Humans have had mixed feelings about your people ever since the annihilation of Earth became a possibility.”

  I remain silent. I still plan to make the Empire pay for their audacity.

  “If you have a credit chip, we can make the exchange now.”

  I reach into my robes and retrieve two credit chips. They are keyed to my biological signature, so no-one else can use them. “This holds nine, the other has one. Exchange them like for like.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  The broker inserts the chips into his terminal and starts to input commands, the datapad hidden from view as he types.

  I look at Abbe
y, raising an eyebrow.

  She shrugs, the very picture of innocence, even though I know she’s anything but.

  I make eye contact with Lodan, who’s watching the exit. The unease I felt earlier has settled in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t shake it.

  It is unusual for me to feel this way, but then again, I have rarely experienced what it is like to live as a ‘civilian.’ In the military, mundane activities like procuring goods and handling credits are usually handled by a logistics crew.

  But now, our growing family needs a logistics crew of its own, and said crew consists of me, and my mate.

  Once the procedure is complete, the broker hands me the credit chips. I check the amounts on the credit display carefully, doing some quick mental calculations.

  The amounts check out.

  I nod at the broker, and that signals the end of our transaction. Abbey smiles sweetly, holding her pregnant belly.

  “You did not need to haggle,” I hiss, as we make for the exit. “I will not have my mate bartering like some common Veronian pirate trader.”

  In Kordolian culture, haggling is considered vulgar.

  She regards me with a strange look. “Whatever. I just scored you over a billion extra credits.” Her smile turns wolfish. It’s distractingly sexy. “Now we can go shopping.”

  I don’t want to go shopping.

  I want to take her somewhere quiet and fuck her until we are both blissfully spent. In pregnancy, she has become more responsive to my touch. She has become pliant and easy to arouse, and every single one of her orgasms is music to my ears.

  Her body is ripe for the taking; a luscious, juicy prize.

  “Stop staring at me like that,” she whispers as we leave. It is with relief that I collect my weapons, concealing them underneath my robes, giving the foolish Human female guard a warning glare.

  Intentionally, I brush against Abbey, my hands grazing her rounded ass.

  She’s aroused; I can tell by her sweet, musky scent.

  “Behave yourself, General,” she protests. “You’re going to cause an accident.”

  “These kinds of things are never accidents, my love.”