ThunderClaw: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 2)

by Penelope Fletcher

  Feet dry and back in her shoes, Fergie tried to catch the phosphorus glow between her palms.

  I jerked and fretted each time she reached for something new, calming only when the Veraks indicated there was no danger. I kept my reactions hidden, so my neurosis didn’t damage her glee. I wanted her to feel safe and adventurous about our new home. I’d suffer the worrying for us both.

  Smoky air brought the universal scent of charred meat. Our stomachs grumbled. The music grew louder, more persuasive, and a harmony of voices warbled along to the catchy melody.

  ‘Are we going to a party?’ I wasn’t sure we were ready for such a thing.

  ‘It is Carnival.’ It was the first Beowyn had spoken in a while, standoffish now his Commander was present.

  ‘You will like it.’ Éorik’s head tipped to offer the illusion of privacy. ‘The people will see you, your family, and will feel honoured you wish to celebrate with them. Carnival is a sacred time. Many species from over the galaxy to Vayhalun during this cycle.’

  We reached the plaza, and my eyes drank it in.

  The mix of alien species wasn’t as dense as Paniki nor as eclectic as Zoi Quay, but none of the racial or class tension that rotted those destinations from the inside out was in evidence.

  The atmosphere was light and bright, the shopkeepers jovial and the market traders boisterous.

  Young children dashed across the aisles. Laughter and parents trailed behind them. I smiled at one intrepid Verak boy who hid on the canopy of a stall as his friends searched under it. The stall owner pretended ignorance when questioned as to his whereabouts, but her eyes were alight with mirth.

  Was there a greater testament to the safety of a city than its younger residents possessing the confidence and freedom to explore its streets without condemnation or fear of being harmed?

  A group on the cusp of maturity huddled in a cranny and took furtive sips of fermented nectar.

  I could smell it from where I stood, so no doubt the Verak could.

  Éorik pointedly ignored the infraction but kept a discreet eye on the situation. He tapped a message into his SonCom while explaining he’d reported the youths to a person of lower authority. ‘The Paladin assigned to this district will bring them in hand.’ He shrugged. ‘I would do it myself, but I am High Commander. It would be cruel to frighten them over a tipple during Carnival when they bother no one.’

  Beowyn was recognised, acknowledged, but not harangued by hordes of admirers as I’d expected. A bubble of space was respected around him, and, therefore us as his companions. The worry my life and that of my family would devolve into a circus vanished. If being afforded greater privacy was what it meant to be royalty on Vayhalun, I’d take it.

  ‘We must contact the Horde.’ Hel Bihter slipped away before I could ascertain when I’d see him again.

  ‘Good riddance,’ Fiercely muttered. ‘Too dangerous to have so close.’

  I admitted the male was terrifying, but he’d helped me learn to use a blaster, and he had fought with us on the jungle planet. There was a duality within all living beings. Hel Bihter’s ruthlessness was just closer to the surface than his compassion.

  Lumen hopped from foot to foot. ‘Shopping, shopping, shopping.’

  Snuggled into Aled’s barrel chest, Fergie wasn’t sure what the excitement was about, but she jumped on the bouncing-clapping bandwagon.

  I rubbed my nose. ‘I have no money.’

  Lumen jerked a shoulder. ‘I’ll send you credits. What’s your account string or do you have a transfer glyph?’

  Did I have a banking account? It seemed like something Éorik would arrange. I looked for him, but he ordered about a uniformed Verak, pointing out the errant youth. I faced Lumen, sheepish. ‘I don’t know it.’

  ‘Where’s your SonCom? It’s usually recorded on there.’

  I flashed my empty hands with a weak laugh. I felt stupid. Why hadn’t I thought about this before?

  Mouth turning down, Lumen twisted on her heel then dug a knuckle into the base of Beowyn’s spine.

  ‘Dah.’ He turned from his conversation with Venomous, sidling into me. ‘Why are you forever hitting me? What did I do to you?’

  ‘Save the woe is me act for someone who doesn’t know you.’ She sniffed. ‘Take Sìne and her family to a Vault then buy them SonComs. You know? The necessities one needs to move about in society.’ She tried to pinch him. ‘You should have sorted this for her cycles ago on Paniki.’

  ‘Orik will arrange what they need. There is no rush. I provide for my One.’

  She propped a hand on her hip. ‘What if we separate? I don’t mind paying, but have you considered she might want her own funds?’

  ‘I don’t want to take your money, Lumen.’ I was reluctant to look at Beowyn. All my worldly possessions had been lost, and everything I owned he’d bought. Up until then food and clothing had magically appeared in my enclosure. I hadn’t had to face my clan was destitute. I now asked my wealthy spouse for more, and not just for me, but my whole clan. ‘Do you mind?’

  Searching my eyes, he ran a finger down the bridge of my nose. Tutted. ‘I should have arranged this the soonest myself. I did not think. How vulnerable you must feel not having access to your own funds. Come.’ He herded my family and me towards an illustrious-looking building leaving Lumen and her mates to peruse the market. ‘Banking systems on Vayhalun adhere to universal tenets and are straightforward as a result. You each will be issued a unique numeric string linked to a bio-signature. Retinal scans will suffice for now. We will add further protections later.’

  I stepped into an automated cylinder, and an androgynous manifestation guided me through the application process. I spoke to input the required information. ‘What’s my domicile territory? Is that our address?’

  ‘Royal Atoll, Vayhalun, Oda-Fyn cluster of the Nord Spiral Galaxy. The computer will deduce the galactic coordinates.’ Beowyn’s deep bass was muffled by the door. ‘Do not forget to note your title. Royalty are awarded diplomatic immunity against asset seizure and discounted handling fees.’

  I itched all over as I added Queen and House ThunderClaw to my name.

  Brokest royal majesty ever.

  A scan was taken of my eyes then a circular metal tab the size of my palm ejected from a thin slot, its surface etched with alien symbols I understood because of my implant.

  I stepped out the booth, and Patrick ducked inside.

  Hands gesturing as he spoke, Éorik now helped a bored Rowan and a frazzled Aled with their accounts.

  ‘Your transfer glyph, my One? I will send galactic credits. They are an accepted currency on Registered planets. You and our kin will receive a healthy stipend from our House each solar as you are my mate.’ Beowyn winked. ‘It is good to be King.’

  I showed him the tab, and he sussed in a glance what information he needed. His thumb claws went clack clack clack against the lit screen of his device.

  ‘Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry you have to pay for everything.’

  ‘Each member of the House receives a stipend.’ He peeked at me long enough to smile before he directed his gaze back to his task. ‘Even me. Further gains are subject to taxation so many are frugal. Spendthrifts tend to be artisans who accumulate great wealth through artwork. Such things are popular among the younger generation.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Older Verak prefer plundering.’

  I didn’t know his age, didn’t care either, but I surmised he was classed as older. ‘Are you paid as King?’

  He nodded. ‘The amount is modest. Enough for the upkeep of the palace and official trifles.’ He turned to Éorik and collected Aled and Rowan’s tabs to transfer them credits. Patrick was last. ‘Done. Now for the SonComs.’

  We ended up in a bright, high-ceilinged electronics store on the opposite side of the plaza. Pristine glass display cases were recessed into the walls, holding an array of glossy devices.

  Fergie tottered off to wait in the seating area with Éorik.

  Patrick
stood in the middle of the shop with a disgruntled set to his jaw. ‘I do no feel comfortable with this.’

  Aled and Rowan fidgeted behind him, sneaking longing looks at the rows of SonComs.

  I picked one to lead by example, a simplistic oval a mite bigger than my hand. ‘What’s the alternative, Trick?’ I understood where he was coming from, but we had to be practical. ‘We lost everything in the crash.’ I held up my device. ‘We need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency.’

  He crossed his arms, stubborn.

  ‘If it bothers you, once you have found employment you may reimburse the Great One.’ Éorik’s tone held a strong note of approval. He looked up from tickling my giggling daughter. ‘Or accept his generosity, and pay him back in kind. Remember you are kin to him. This is nothing more than your due, but I understand your thinking.’

  Beowyn’s chest puffed. He caved when I nudged him with my elbow. ‘Take what you need. I will accept repayment when you are able.’

  Relaxing, Patrick snapped a nod.

  Aled walked up to the first display case to grunt, ‘That one,’ and was done, while Rowan cannoned across the room, quizzing the startled clerks on the latest and best specifications. The interrogation lasted long enough we left him there, Aled slouched next to him, eyes glazed, expression slack.

  We met up with the rest of our group, and wanting food, Patrick went his own way with Fergus. ‘I’ll take the babies.’ He scooped up Bravest from Cobra, who gurgled a laugh, four hands latching onto different points of Patrick’s smiling face. ‘Aye, wee man, you’re braw like your Da, aren’t you? Come on, Da, grab the wee bit.’ They disappeared into the crush, the hatchling tucked in Patrick’s arms, and Fergie piggybacking her great uncle, knocking off his flat cap to slap at his pink and shiny bald spot.

  Having the ability to contact my cousin and check on my daughter lifted a huge weight from my shoulders.

  The lingering guilt I’d felt about the cost of the SonCom’s dissipated.

  We’d needed them badly.

  ‘Patrick’s great with kids.’ Lumen smiled after them. ‘He’s going to be a wonderful father.’

  ‘Needs to find the right woman first.’ I stilled when I realised that ‘woman’ would likely be an alien female. I shook myself. ‘Where to now then?’

  Chapter 23

  Beowyn and Éorik glanced at the cratered moon blotting most of the dusky skyline then excused themselves.

  Venomous, Cobra and Fiercely vanished straight after.

  It clicked for me after a moment’s puzzled contemplation the males skedaddled to avoid window shopping.

  Wandering through the dye market, the indigenous, drumming music a sensual berceuse to my ears, I curled my fingers up to brush the damp swathes of woven plant fabrics and scraped animal pelts hanging overhead. Brilliant pigments blended into a watery kaleidoscope running down my forearm in rivulets. The brightness hurt my eyes. Dye residue left me sticky and smelling of salts and astringents, but the vivid colours lifted my mood.

  A sphere lifted off a flashing pedestal and followed me as I browsed.

  Tensing, I hesitated. ‘Lumen?’

  ‘Automated shopping basket. Tell it what you want then meet me at the sorting station over there.’ Her waving hands were patchy with dye.

  Brows lifting to my hairline, I walked on trying to ignore the floating orb. I stopped under a rich green. ‘Can I order a reel of this?’ I guessed there was a standard minimum purchase. Something caught my eye further down the racks. I pointed. ‘This as well.’ I patted the vivid blue colour to ensure the addition to my original order. ‘That’s all I want, thanks.’

  The teensy robot scanned by body with a laser. It bleeped then zipped up and over the crowd.

  Patrick knew the clan sett by heart.

  I’d find a weaver and explain our plaid as best I could. It would be an excellent home warming gift for my family, replace a little of what we lost.

  I might even have kilts made for Beowyn and Éorik.

  I caught up to Lumen in the centre of the dye market and joined her in the queue of patrons waiting to be served.

  Thirteen bristled feelers ended each of the merchant’s nine elastic arms. It sat inside a clay pot surrounded by dozens upon dozens of shallow dishes bearing a rainbow of powdered pigment.

  It flipped open two pouches and scooped up the colours I’d requested. It simultaneous offered up a round tablet with a flashing payment glyph while doing the same for three other customers and using the appendage that coiled from its’s napped torso to feed its gummy oral cavity a mash.

  ‘Did you get fingerprinted or sequenced?’ Lumen ran her hand through a scintillating pile of jet sediment, taking care not to spill the grains from the oval dish. ‘The mechanical arm that swabs you is creepy, but Venomous insists it’s the safest form of universal identification. Hard to counterfeit a DNA strand.’

  I tapped under my eye. ‘Just retinal scanned for now.’

  ‘Lean into the range of the lens. When the glyph stops flashing, the prompt will appear. Enter your authorisation code, and you’ve paid.’

  Shying at the laser that swept over my eyeball, I blinked, completed the purchase then took hold of the sealed pouches. ‘Thank you.’ My arse buzzed.

  Jumping, I remembered my SonCom and laughed under my breath. I tugged it from my pocket to check the touch screen. I had a balance notification from the Vault showing how much I’d spent and the leftover galactic credits. Tightness spread across my chest at the figure stretching across the screen.

  Beowyn had been generous.

  Very generous.

  My hand shook. I’d never seen so much money in my life. Feeling sick, I realised I’d receive the stipend once a year. What was I going to do with such wealth?

  I open the caravan door and stare at the man there. He looks like me. I can’t breathe. He grins and tips his head. ‘Hello there, lass.’

  My Uncle pushes me behind him, shielding me with the door.

  He yells.

  Patrick pulls me into the living room to watch television. I glance over my shoulder, fascinated by the man who I know is my Da.

  But he doesn’t stay.

  He takes a long look at me, shakes his head then walks away.

  Uncle Fergus speaks to Cait and Patrick. They sit me down to explain my Da wanted to take me but changed his mind. I ask why. The men refuse to discuss it, but Cait mutters something about a gold-digger. It isn’t until a month later I figure it out. My Mam died, and her life insurance paid off her debt and for her funeral. There was nothing left. I had no money, so I wasn’t worth sticking around for.

  I felt overwhelmed, so tucked the device away and stopped thinking.

  Another tidbit for the denial jar.

  ‘Ooh, look.’ Lumen pointed at a clothier and adjusted our course through the throng. ‘Their selling razorbeast leathers. They’re native to Rök, you know? Cobra hunts them.’ She appeared proud as she rummaged through the folded offerings. ‘These are divine, but would make me look like a dumpling.’ She held up a pair of off-white leathers. ‘They’d look hot on you, though. You have that whole slinky, ethereal-waif thing going on.’

  I called it awkward skinniness. Her description made me sound alluring.

  Feeling brave, I nabbed the leathers.

  The hide was like velvet.

  Eyelids drooping, I licked my lips. I picked up a top on a rush of adrenaline. How long had it been since I’d bought new clothes? ‘Can I try them?’

  Bouncing on the spot, the corpulent clothier chittered, viridescent rolls of neck fat dimpling. It jabbed a stubby arm towards a pod. ‘Please. Please.’

  I stripped off the softsuit favoured by Rä females and exhaled, rolling my head on my neck. It was pretty, and I had to admit I felt like a storybook princess in it, but walking around in so much wispy fabric was impractical.

  I wriggled into the buttery-soft leathers. A hologram flickered on, a to-scale double of me. It twirled, modellin
g how the trousers moulded to my ass and made my stick legs appear sculpted. I stared agog until I realised the hologram was bare breasted. I slipped on the woven top. Long, tight sleeves ended halfway down my palms but exposed the rounds of my shoulders. The slight swells of my inner breasts remained bare as the neckline plunged to the embroidered strap encircling the gentle dips at my waist. My middle was naked too from navel to hipbones. Standing collar points hugged my square chin and turned my skinny throat into an elegant column. The fabric weave had a lustre that suffused into a low-grade glow.

  What I found shocking was the cream and blue outfit didn’t clash with my hair. The muted hues complimented my natural colourings–green eyes, ginger hair, billions of freckles–and drew the eye to my feminine aspects without overpowering my speckled, pale skin or making me feel self-conscious.

  With my short curls, clean features and form-fitting clothes, I seemed bold, a woman who was grounded and exuded confidence in her abilities, in her elevated place in the world.

  For the first time, I saw how Beowyn and Éorik could want me.

  I rubbed at my stinging eyes and breathed through my teeth. It was ridiculous. I logically knew physical beauty wasn’t a measure of a woman, wasn’t a measure of my worth, but I’d felt ugly for so long, it felt good to look at myself and see attractiveness.

  I exited the pod with a grin that died. Insecurities I thought I’d long dealt with swamped the meagre happiness I’d found in my improved appearance.

  Lumen had changed into a sleeveless bronze tunic that split at the front in an upside-down tulip, black leathers hugging her shapely thighs. Her naked arms bore thick, engraved gold bands. Her raven hair had been gathered into a riot of kinky coils held by a jewelled pin, and her dusky flesh shone with vitality.

  She looked like a heathen goddess.

  She spotted me, and her eyes snapped up and down. Her jaw dropped. ‘Sìne, you look incredible.’ She took hold of my waist, giving it a shimmy. ‘I knew those leggings would look good on you, but damn girl.’

  Worrying at my ear, I managed a faint mumble at the floor, struggling to regain control of my spiralling thoughts and hide my distress.