Draekon Conqueror

by Lee Savino

  Don’t worry, Lani Dennison. I’ve got you.

  She looks up at me, and I revise my initial opinion. She’s not ordinary at all. Her hair is dark and spills to her waist in lustrous waves. Her eyes are deep blue in color, like the dark clouds that roll in ahead of a storm. She’s pretty.

  Pretty and smart.

  I wink at her, an automatic habit.

  Her mouth falls open in outrage, and her eyes flash fire.

  I laugh under my breath as I plant my cameras. I’ve been sent on thousands of missions. This rescue was just another routine operation. But when she glares at me, something sparks to life.

  This is going to be fun.

  An Okaki guard accosts me outside Lani’s cell, but Gervil interrupts. He seems to think that I was looking for him. “Ruhan, what do you need?”

  “There is an anomaly in the engine room,” I reply. I don’t even have to lie; the Konar is in dreadful shape, and Gervil knows it. If I had it my way, we wouldn’t even have left Hokatir, let alone jump into a wormhole. But the spaceport had been swarming with mercs, bounty hunters, and ex-soldiers, and Gervil insisted we get out of there. “You should look at it.”

  I gesture to the door. “What’s wrong with them?” Gervil asks as we make our way to the engine room.

  “The primary has failed, and the secondary is about to blow,” I reply. “If the secondary fails, you—”

  “Won’t be able to use the wormholes,” he finishes.

  He’s not stupid. “Exactly. I can fix the primary and take some of the pressure of the secondary, but whatever I do won’t hold.” This time, I am lying. I can fix both the primary and the secondary, but we’re in deep space, thousands of light-years away from the nearest inhabited planet. I need to get closer to civilization before we can jump on an escape shuttle.

  He swears. “Can you get it to hold for one more jump?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He says something on his comm, and a couple of ehen later, another Okaki shows up next to us. “This is Devnik, my second-in-command. He will get you what you need from the stores.”

  Devnik glares at me. I give him a bland smile. He contemplates me for a long and hostile moment, and then, without another word, turns around and sweeps toward the storeroom.

  Pleasant guy.

  For the next few hours, I work on the Konar. I swap out the primary engine, stabilize the secondary, restore the wormhole navigator, and double-and triple-check the hull integrity.

  Devnik spends the entire time watching me with suspicious eyes. “That’s all I can do for the secondary,” I tell him when I’m done, getting to my feet and stretching to loosen my cramped muscles.

  “Will it hold?”

  I roll my eyes at his tone of barely concealed disbelief. “I told the Captain already. It’ll give you one jump.” Blue, my Ashara-issued bot, rolls around the narrow space, gathering up my tools.

  Devnik’s attention transfers to Blue. “The Adrashian Federation and the Zorahn Empire are constantly at war. The Adrashians don’t sell tech to your people. How did you say you got your hands on one of their bots?”

  “Do I look like an upstanding citizen of the Zorahn Empire to you? I don’t care about Lenox’s pissing matches with the Adrashians. I have my sources.” I pick up the toolkit, and Blue clambers up to his usual spot on my left shoulder. “I need to sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours to work on the fuel converters.”

  Devnik’s stare bores into my back as I walk away. “He doesn’t like you,” Blue sends through the feed. “Am I correct?”

  “Yes.” I’ve been programming the Adrashian bot to read emotions. The Okaki are easy to read—their tentacles move involuntarily when they are stressed—but even so, Blue is making excellent progress. “I don’t care. Let’s go look at the shuttles.”

  When I boarded the Konar, I did have a rudimentary plan, of course. I’m not completely reckless. It went something like this.

  Step 1: Infiltrate the Okaki ship as a mech.

  Step 2: Grab the human, if she’s still alive.

  Step 3: Get on an escape pod.

  Step 4: Get back to Hokatir, where my top-of-the-line Adrashian cloakship, the Circada, is hidden, and head back to the rebellion.

  It’s not a great plan, but it has the advantage of being simple. Sure, I expected complications to arise, but I’m a trained soldier. There are very few situations I can’t handle.

  Then I make my way to the escape pods to scope out their condition. Which is where I run into my first complication.

  The shuttles—my way out of the Konar—are wrecked.

  Mahr. So much for that idea. Now what?

  3

  Lani

  A few hours after the evening meal, Gervil returns to my prison cell. For a second, my stupid brain wonders if Ruhan’s with him, but no. He’s alone.

  Once again, Lani, stop it with the Ruhan thing.

  “The human had lost his palace and his wealth,” the pirate says eagerly. It takes me a second to figure out he’s talking about Aladdin. I’d ended on a cliffhanger last night, and it looks like the Okaki pirate captain has spent the entire day anticipating the next installment. Under different circumstances, his attention would be remarkably flattering. He’s as rapt as one of the kids in my class. “Did he die? Was he eaten?”

  Be amazing, Lani. Be so memorable that Gervil won’t even entertain the idea of cutting off one of your legs.

  “One moment, Aladdin had everything,” I intone, picking up from where I left off last night. “A beautiful wife, a large palace. He had wealth and power. Then, the next minute, it was snatched away from him. He was overwhelmed with despair.” I never did have wealth or power, but I can absolutely relate to the filled-with-despair part of this story.

  “Yes.” Gervil’s voice is saturated with ghoulish enjoyment.

  “But Aladdin still had the magic ring,” I say solemnly. “He summoned the djinn of the ring and begged him to bring him back his palace. But the djinn refused. He was not powerful enough.”

  I spent most of my childhood with my nose buried in a book. My parents hated that. My brother Trey played football. They attended all his games, but when it came to the plays I wrote and acted in, my dad couldn’t make the time to show up.

  Hey, mom and dad? Being a lifelong reader is paying off. Big time.

  The night drags on. I finish Aladdin and start my next story. This time, it’s an old Norwegian fairy tale, East of the Sun, West of the Moon. Even though the story isn’t as popular as some others—I’m looking at you, Beauty and the Beast—I like this one better.

  “Once upon a time, at the edge of a deep, dark forest, lived a farmer, his wife, and their three daughters. They were extremely poor. The farmer didn’t have enough money to feed or clothe his daughters.”

  “All the people you talk about are poor,” Gervil interrupts.

  Gah. Everyone’s a critic. I give him an annoyed look. “Do you want to listen to my story or not?” I bite out, and then immediately regret it. What the hell am I thinking? If he says no, the next step is to toss me in the stew pot. Dial back on the snark, idiot.

  “Keep going.”

  Phew. “One night, a storm battered the forest. Sheets of rain fell from the sky, and wind sliced through the air with icy claws. The hut provided only meager shelter from the weather. The roof leaked, and it was almost as cold inside as it was outside. The family huddled around the fire, seeking warmth. And then…”

  Gervil leans forward.

  “There was a knock on the door. It was no kind of weather for a traveler to be caught outside, and so the farmer’s youngest daughter, who had a kind heart, went to see who it was. Standing there was a great big white bear.”

  I have no idea how the translator works. To an alien who’s never seen a bear, what would the word mean? Still, Gervil doesn’t interrupt me to ask for clarification, as he sometimes does, so I assume he understands the concept.

  “And the bear spoke. He said to the
farmer, give me your youngest daughter, and I will make you rich.”

  I continue the story. The farmer’s daughter initially wanted no part of the deal, but she relented because she loved her family and wanted to help them. The bear took her deep into the woods, and in the heart of the forest was a castle. “Night after night, the White Bear came to the girl in the dark and laid next to her.” A nice fairy-tale euphemism for sex there, and of course, consent be damned. “But the lights were out, and she couldn’t see his face. This kept going on for a few months. As time went on, the girl got more and more homesick. She was lonely. She missed her family. She begged the White Bear to let her see them again.”

  Am I homesick? I’m not sure. What I really miss is not being afraid. Back in Brooklyn, I worried about money a lot. I worked as a badly paid kindergarten teacher. My student loans were crippling. I made paintings of dogs in costumes and sold them on Etsy to supplement my meager salary. But as stressful as my life was, I never once had to worry about tentacled aliens eating me, limb by limb.

  Do I miss my parents? My brother Trey? A little. Families are complicated that way. My relationship with my parents was toxic and corrosive. Every time I talked to them, I felt like shit. But I still wish I could see them and tell them I’m not dead.

  Gervil shifts in his seat and I realize I must have been silent for longer than I intended. I hastily pick up the threads of the story. “The White Bear took the girl home to visit her family. While she was there, she told her mother about the man in her bed, and the mother became alarmed. She advised her daughter to light a candle in the middle of the night and look on the White Bear’s true shape. The girl did this, and she found in her bed a handsome prince. But alas, the drops of wax from the candle hit the prince and woke him up. When he saw what she’d done, his face filled with sorrow.”

  “A bear?” Gervil interrupts. “Not a dragon?”

  Huh? “A dragon?”

  “Yes. Do you have the mutation in your homeworld as well?”

  I’m totally lost. I don’t have the slightest idea what Gervil’s talking about. “What mutation?”

  “The Draekon mutation. It’s a genetic anomaly in the Zorahn. Only affects the male of the species. Those that have the mutation can change their shapes, like the man in your lore. They become dragons.”

  “Like for real?” Duh, Lani. Dumb question. You already know the Okaki are extremely literal.

  Gervil looks confused. “Yes. The Zorahn are terrified that the mutation is contagious. Every year, all the men in the High Empire are tested, and if they pass, their arms are inked with testing tattoos. But if they fail, they are exiled for the rest of their lives.”

  The pirate captain has shown no sign of having a sense of humor, otherwise I’d think he’s pulling my leg. “Zorahn men can change into dragons? I can hardly believe it.”

  “Believe it,” the Okaki says grimly. “A thousand years ago, Nestri, the Okaki homeworld, used to be an independent planet. Then the Zorahn sent a dragon to subjugate us. The Draekon Conqueror assassinated the LoreLords, shattered our temples, and killed everyone who resisted. Because of him, Nestri is now part of the Empire.”

  Gervil sounds serious, but I’m still not sure I buy his story. I mean, men shifting into dragons? It’s the stuff of fantasy, but it can’t be real.

  I get back to my fairy tale before his attention starts to wander. “The prince had been under a curse. If only the girl had held on for a year, the curse would have been broken. But alas, her curiosity overcame her.” Fairy tales always gloss over some important details. Do you blame the girl? I mean, she was sold to a bear. Every night, a guy came to her in the dark, and you know, fucked her. Then, when she wanted to know who she was sleeping with, the prince blamed her for her curiosity? Honestly, if it were me, I’d have let him stay cursed.

  “But because she’d seen his face, the prince, along with his castle, was transported to a location East of the Sun, West of the Moon. The girl was left all alone in the middle of the forest.”

  Gervil yawns and looks at his tablet. Fear stabs my heart. Two days, two vanishing palaces. Come on, Lani. Mix it up. You can’t afford rookie mistakes.

  I’d planned to end today’s installment here, but I must keep going. I cannot bore Gervil. “The girl was desperate to find her prince,” I tell the pirate. My palms are damp with sweat, and I wipe them on the legs of my syn-made pants. “She set off on a quest.”

  Thankfully, I recapture his interest. He looks up from his screen, and the fist squeezing my heart eases by a fraction. “She asked the North Wind if he knew how to get to the castle that was East of the Sun, West of the Moon. And the North Wind looked down at the girl, and he said…”

  “Yes?”

  I yawn loudly. Deliberately. “I can barely keep my eyes open,” I tell him. “Tomorrow. I’ll finish the story tomorrow.”

  Gervil’s tentacles wave in irritation. My pulse races, but I do my level best to keep my expression calm. You’re a kindergarten teacher, I remind myself. If you can manage a room filled with hyperactive five-year-olds, you can manage one alien pirate.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Gervil hisses. “One day, I’m going to lose my patience with your antics. One day, I’m not going to want to know what happens next…”

  That day, I’ll be soup. Lani-flavored soup. Gervil doesn’t have to threaten me. Trust me, it’s all I think about.

  “Goodnight, Gervil,” I say firmly.

  He leaves. I lie down and do my very best to get some rest. I expect my sleep to be invaded by nightmares, but instead, I dream of a green-eyed, gold-hued stranger who comes up to me on a magic carpet. I climb on board, and together, hand in hand, we fly off into the starry night.

  4

  Ruhan

  Each standard escape pod can carry ten people. The Konar has a crew of fifty. Thirty-seven Okaki, thirteen Zorahn. Hardened criminals, all of them.

  There should be five escape shuttles, all regularly inspected and kept in top-notch shape.

  There are three, and they’re all wrecks. No wonder Gervil was so happy to hire me. Whoever their last mech was, he or she was hopeless.

  I guess I’ll be spending the next few hours fixing an escape pod. So much for sleep.

  At least I know what I’m doing. If this had happened to one of my brothers, they’d be screwed. Then again, it probably wouldn’t happen to them, because they’d have contingency plans in place. I can hear Fifth’s voice right now, worry overlaid with a hefty dose of exasperation. “Third, for Caeron’s sake, be careful.”

  Thinking of the others sends a pang through me. I wish I could talk to them, but I can’t. My Adrashian comm would have set off even more red flags than Blue did. Techbots are common, but the same can’t be said about comms. In war, the side with better information tends to win, and as such, the Adrashians zealously guard their communication technology. My model—courtesy the techmages in Ashara—would have blown my cover, so I left it behind on Hokatir, along with my ship.

  I’ve been without comms before, but I’ve never felt the loss as acutely as I do right now, and I know why. It’s because of the threat posed by First.

  There are six Draekons in the Crimson Force. Five of us—and yes, I’m counting myself in this category—are not homicidal maniacs.

  Then there’s First.

  When the Rebellion brought us out of stasis, First was missing. For a few days, I’d dared to hope he was dead. First, so named because he was the first Draekon ever created, is a complete psychopath. We’re all covered in blood—we were created to kill—but First was the only one who took pleasure in the act. If I never see him again, it’d be too soon.

  Unfortunately, First is very much alive. He’s allied himself with some fanatical splinter group, he’s slaughtering Draekons, and when he finds out we’re determined to stop him, he will come for us.

  I should be with the others. My true and only family, the brothers of my heart. I should be fighting with Kadir, and with Fourt
h, Fifth, and Sixth. That’s where I ache to be. Not stuck on an Okaki pirate ship in the middle of nowhere. The sooner I can get Lani back to the Rebellion, the faster I can focus on the thing that truly matters.

  I open up the nearest shuttle’s control panel and run diagnostics on the mechanicals. “This is a mess,” Blue says on the feed.

  Bots. They’re great at pointing out the obvious. “Yes, Blue, I can see that.”

  Blue continues to tell me things I already know. “You don’t have spare parts to fix this.”

  “I’m well aware,” I say dryly. The storeroom isn’t well-stocked. I could hack the lock and take a second look, but Devnik keeps a very close watch on the supplies, and he’d soon discover something was missing. “We can’t take off. Just yet, at any rate.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I run my hand over my face. I’m a little stymied. We’re in space. There are fifty pirates on the Konar, and they’re heavily armed.

  In dragon-form, I’m invulnerable to most weapons, but the Konar isn’t built for someone my size. If I shift, I’ll damage the ship. Contrary to popular belief, Draekons can’t breathe in the vacuum of space. If the hull’s integrity is breached, we’ll all die, including the human I’m here to rescue.

  Shifting to the dragon isn’t an option.

  Unfortunately, my two-legged form is the weaker one. Can I fight all fifty pirates without shifting? Maybe. Can I take all fifty of them and keep Lani Dennison alive? The odds lessen considerably. In a pinch, I’ll risk it, but for the moment, I’d rather look for a different solution.

  I straighten and move to the second shuttle. “We might be able to salvage parts from this one,” I comment. If I do that, I’ll be leaving the pirates without any way off the ship, but I can’t bring myself to care. A vast majority of the galaxy’s denizens are good people who deserve to live out their lives in peace and prosperity, but the crew members of the Konar aren’t among them.