Legend Beyond The Stars

by S. E. GILCHRIST

  “You speak as if they will have a future in our world. I need not remind you of our laws.”

  “Our current laws.”

  “It is well, my friend, it is only I who hear these words.” Tarak unclenched his fist and grumbled. “I know of what you speak. But they must also realise Darkon warriors are responsible for their females.”

  “Haven’t we often spoken of how we wished to change our world to a similar culture? A society where women’s voices are heard with respect?”

  “Foolish ideas, my friend, which can never be implemented as there are no longer any Darkon women. These females from such an inferior race are only fit for the role of slaves.”

  “Hah!” Magar gave a snort of disbelief. “I know in your heart you believe otherwise. Do not try to tell me you believe they will learn the ways of Darkon women, our laws and obey without question.”

  Tarak barked out a laugh and said ruefully. “I think we will count ourselves lucky, if they will learn and accept even a small number of our ways.”

  Magar grinned. “So it seems the Darkon males must learn and accept these females’ ways.”

  ”Only what will not be detrimental to the females’ well-being. They will be protected at all costs.” Tarak glared at the older warrior. “We cannot and will not let harm befall them. Unlike the others.”

  Magar surged to his feet and strode to the viewing window.

  “Forgive me, Magar. I did not mean to remind you of the past,” Tarak said as he watched his friend’s taut back. “I also miss my family. My little sister would have just passed her twenty cycles, if she had lived. And your mate, my mother’s sister’s only child I considered family.”

  “It has been many cycles since the last of our females passed to the other life. I know I am not the only one who has suffered loss. But I often wonder what my daughters would have been like, whether they would have resembled their mother, what they would have enjoyed doing …” Magar braced his hands against the wall and was silent for a few sectons.

  Straightening, he swung around and faced his leader. “Well the past has gone and soon also the Darkon race will be vanquished. Do your plans remain the same?”

  It was Tarak’s turn to remain quiet. His euphoria evaporated like steam off the rocks which dotted the landscape of the ancient Darkon suns at this reminder of his orders.

  Finally he answered. “It is the duty of all Darkon males to deliver any females to the chambers in Isla. As the last in line, I must do all I can to ensure the continuation of our people.” With care, he hid the clenching of his gut, his bowels feeling as if they were being ripped from his body. “I admit the thought of sending Alana to such a fate grieves me greatly.”

  Magar raised his brows waited several beats before saying, “They are of puny stature. I cannot see how they can advance our cause. This order does not sit well with me, Tarak.”

  Tarak’s hands clenched over the metal arms. “Nor with me, but the penalty for disobedience of a royal decree is imprisonment or death. However, I have been considering taking them to Cerciron first.”

  “The king will not be pleased.”

  Tarak shrugged. “An initial analysis should determine their unsuitability quite easily. Have we not researched all the great races of the Seven Galaxies with no success? None have proved compatible with our species. I also do not believe these females can advance our cause. Once this has been proved, then they may remain on Cerciron.”

  “Then our chances of surviving are nil.”

  “Yes,” Tarak agreed. “If it was possible to learn the exact location of the Supreme Leader’s headquarters, we may survive a few cycles but we are a scattered race. Hope has deserted us. Many have already given up the struggle and chosen to live out their remaining cycles in peace. If I could find a way to reunite our people, then we may win through. But to what end?” He spread his hands wide. “Our race will still be doomed.”

  Magar hesitated before continuing, “Many of the men have overcome the impotence which has plagued us for the past six cycles. Some will not want to leave their chosen mates.”

  “Slaves not mates. Slaves.” Tarak’s fingers beat an irritated tattoo on the armrest.

  Magar continued as if he had not spoken, “Tarak, they have bonded. They worry what will become of the females after they are gone. Just as you worry about Alana.”

  Tarak launched himself from his chair and paced the length of the room and back again, at his sides his hands clenched and unclenched. “I will ensure her safety.”

  “How?” Magar persisted. “We will not be here. When we do not succeed with our plan, the Elite Forces will overrun the last outpost and take possession of the remaining Darkon Stars. With possession of our knowledge of how to wield the energy spheres to destroy entire planets, Liama will be unstoppable. We both know he will then wage war with any who dare to oppose him. Any surviving warriors will be imprisoned or terminated. Any person or race that ally with us, will meet the same end. Or worse,” he added softly.

  “This I already know, you need not remind me, Magar,” Tarak snarled, turning his face away. “It seems we are truly cursed.”

  “Our options are indeed, limited.”

  Tarak strode to the table and keyed in the code. “I have decided. We return to the last outpost.” He exchanged glances with Magar who nodded in grim acceptance. “The females will be safe in my father’s care. Those who choose may remain with their slaves.”

  He directed a sardonic grin at Magar who rolled his eyes at the word ‘slaves’. “They will not be forced to fight our last battle. And you, my friend what will you choose?”

  “I?” Magar asked in surprise. “I will accompany you, of course.”

  “Then you have not chosen a female amongst these women?”

  “No. There is no one,” he said abruptly.

  Too abruptly, Tarak mused as he considered his friend’s tense features and waited.

  His second-in-command bared his teeth, showing his long sharp canines. “I am too old for such things.” He ignored Tarak’s snort of derision. “Let the younger ones have their times of pleasure. It will be fleeting enough.”

  “Then there is none who takes your fancy?” Tarak persisted.

  “I have said no!” Magar folded his arms across his chest and glowered with irritation. He smirked as he attacked in return, “I believe it would be best if I take command of the battle and you remain with Alana to protect her. You cannot deny it is your true desire.”

  Tarak bristled at this intrusion into his innermost thoughts, and fought the bittersweet images rising unbidden in his mind. To share his last days with her, to be there to stand before her when the Elite hordes and the space scum Relics overran their last refuge, he could not deny was his dearest yearning.

  When he turned to Magar, his torment was plain to see in his eyes. “I will do my duty and lead our men to battle. The best we can hope is to exterminate as many of our enemies as possible.” He sighed, his heart heavy. “There is an old long range voyager, well-hidden on an orbiting docking station. At the time of our attack, it will take the women and those who chose to stay with them far from our universe. Perhaps, they will find their way to their home.”

  He reached out and clasped his friend’s arm. “And the Darkon race will be no more.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  The transport shuttle made its final approaches towards the massive planet the Darkons called Cerciron. Arms folded across her chest, Alana, with Jessamine by her side, stood at the viewing screen and watched.

  Her friend fiddled with her long black hair, twisting it into a long intricate braid and staring with a morose expression at the scene.

  Homesickness for their beautiful planet swept over Alana. Nowhere before her could she see any blue or green indicating the existence of water and plant life as she knew it. Rather the planet was a dull orange-brown. Even from this distance it appeared rocky and mountainous. Huge spikes towered into the pink-brown tin
ged sky which at first glance she had thought might be buildings. When the shuttle came closer, she saw they were steep slabs of some type of jagged sharp stone or rock.

  “This place sure don’t look so good,” Jessamine muttered.

  “I agree it doesn’t look particularly inviting.” Alana surveyed the depressing landscape.

  “See how close those twin suns are! We’ll probably burst into flames the instant we step off this here ship. And those suns are way bigger than ours at home.” Jessamine tossed her head, her braid flying out of her hands and whipping over one shoulder. “I vote we stay right here.”

  “I’ve already questioned Norman about this planet. He says the gravity and air composition are similar to earth. There is water. There are two rather salty acidic oceans and plenty of canals of underground springs. The problems are fierce electrical storms and wind storms which are generated by the proximity of those suns. It makes living on the surface almost impossible. Hence, the Darkons live underground.”

  “You’re kiddin’ me?” Jessamine gaped at her.

  “Trust me, this is something I’m not keen on either,” Alana grumbled. She winced at the fleeting memory of being trapped in the wreckage of her hover with wounded, dying soldiers surrounding her, several tonnes of concrete pressing down from above.

  Jessamine sighed gustily, returned her attention to the view.

  They had disembarked the Ark on one of the many docking stations which encircled the planet and been herded quickly onto a shuttle. Alana wished she’d had time to investigate the docking station, but she had been hustled along too fast to only observe it was sparsely manned. There had been large, mysterious looking machines lined up in regimented rows, and through one doorway she had managed a peek at lines of different types of flyers. She positively itched to examine them and was irritated she was given no time to do so.

  She glared at the screen. Perhaps if she had been able to speak with Tarak but she had rarely seen him since their return from seeking the source of the distress signal. He still showed plenty of interest in the sex department, but he was always quick to leave her and return to his duties. Alana uncrossed her arms and shoved her fists into the pockets of her blue flight suit pants. She was positive he was avoiding holding conversations with her, which just went to show in his eyes, she was merely a sexual convenience.

  His slave, nothing else.

  Alana stared at the screen so hard, it was a wonder she didn’t bore a hole through the thick material.

  If only she could treat their encounters just as casual. If only she could find the strength to say ‘no’.

  But one look from those searing eyes, one touch and she ached to have him inside her again. So much for her infamous ‘ice lady’ persona! Even now she was wondering where he was and what he was doing.

  She kicked the wall. How irritating!

  Beside her, Jessamine fiddled again with her hair. Curious, Alana shot a sharp glance at her friend this time noticing the pucker of worry between her brows. “Is there something wrong, Jess? Are those two blokes of yours giving you problems?”

  Jessamine emitted a sigh of pure pleasure. “Honey, my eye candy is definitely not givin’ me any grief. They treat me as if I’m someone surely precious. I feel like a queen.”

  She laughed but Alana noticed how Jessamine’s wide mouth curved into a gentle smile and how her brown eyes had softened.

  What was it about these men that had them not only going weak at the knees but weak in the heart? Or was it weak in the head? She recalled the tenderness and urgency Tarak displayed towards her and had to agree it certainly made her feel very special.

  But she wanted more.

  Needed more.

  The role Tarak seemed to want her to fulfil was not a good fit for Alana. She glowered.

  “I’m gettin’ a bad feelin’ ‘bout this place.” Jessamine’s voice interrupted her dismal thoughts.

  Interested, Alana turned to face her and gestured towards the screen. “How so? Is it the planet, do you think?”

  “Well, hard to say, but I don’t believe so. I feel somethin’ bad is gonna happen. Maybe cause Wray and Casis have been actin’ kinda weird. You know,” Jessamine waved a vague hand in the air, “tense. And not that kinda tense.” She chuckled and Alana grinned. “Almost sad as if there is some kinda heavy decision weighin’ on their minds.”

  “They could be deciding whether one of them should bow out and leave the field for the other.”

  “Absolutely not. I did wonder at first but seems our trio is workin’ good and it sure keeps me busy.” Jessamine winked.

  “Then it’s something else.” Alana compressed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Jessamine exclaimed, “You feel it too!”

  “Yeah, I sure do.”

  ”Honey, I’m sure if you ask the Commander he’d tell you what was goin’ on. Don’t you have any idea what we’re doin’ here?”

  “Commander Tarak and I do not have the kind of relationship where we exchange confidences.” Alana turned away.

  “Ouch. Well, hon, my boys are holdin’ out too. And lookin’ forward, that will definitely need to change,” Jessamine said, her chin jutted out with determination.

  “All I can say is, I wish you luck.”

  Jessamine linked arms with her and grinned. “If I’m sure of one thing, it’s this, you sure have Commander Tarak wrapped around your little finger.”

  Alana snorted with disbelief.

  “Well, you’ll see I’m right. Though I so hope we’ll be eating real food for a change. I’m really tired of space rations. A huge juicy steak would go down just nice.”

  “I’m on the same page with you there, Jess.”

  “Honey, if a cow walked past me now, I would devour it whole, hide, hooves and all.”

  Alana laughed.

  A shrill whistle split the air. She spun round, alert.

  “Ugh! What’s happenin’?” Jessamine clapped her hands over her ears.

  A metal panel shot down and closed off the viewing screen.

  ”Warning signal. I suspect we need to strap in and get ready for landing. Come on, Jess.” Alana grimaced. “Time for us to face the next challenge.”

  Upon emerging from the shuttle, Alana examined her surroundings with considerable interest. They had taxied into a huge bunker which appeared to have been carved into the side of a mountain with walls made of stone. Some type of alien granite. The size of the mountain itself defied description and the far end of the runway stretched into the distance.

  The shuttle she had disembarked from stood first at the end of the line. As she waited with the group of women passengers, other shuttles flew in and landed. She gazed fascinated. Everywhere she turned the port was a hive of activity. There were representatives of a few other races all dressed in a uniform flight suit of dull grey, scurrying about their duties. They appeared to be of humanoid build but they were too far away for Alana to determine their exact differences. She wondered whether there were any Jurians on this planet. It would be good if Norman could meet up with more of his people. She hoped the other Jurians had managed to find safety. The Darkon warrior workers kept casting glances their way and it seemed to Alana, they were performing the same task over and over.

  Curiosity, she assumed and shrugged off the notion.

  On the side of the port where Alana stood, machines waited idle and lined the entire length of the wall. Some resembled mining equipment. Far above her head she saw a viewing deck protected by a type of toughened glass beyond which shadowy figures were stationed, probably keeping tabs on the work below.

  For the moment, the Darkon warriors from the Ark were ignoring the women as they offloaded equipment from one of the larger shuttles. After advising the other women to remain where they were, Alana dumped her holdall on the ground and strolled towards the entrance bay.

  At the very edge of the wide runway, she stopped and shaded her eyes with her hands. The strong sunlight made her squint a
s she stared at an alien landscape as harsh and forbidding as its inhabitants. Jagged spears of rock and stone arched skywards. Far below on the valley floor, the ground was littered with rocks and boulders of various sizes. In the distance rose the serrated peaks of enormous mountains.

  It would take a great deal of time and effort to traverse any distance in such a difficult terrain.

  She sensed the Commander’s approach and tensed when he halted beside her. Remaining still, she tried to focus on the scene but it was impossible. Every nerve in her body fizzed with energy like a newly opened bottle of soft drink. He looped his arm around her waist, slid his gloved hand possessively over her stomach then he pressed low, his fingers putting pressure on her nub. Her breathing hitched and desire unfurled its insatiable wings.

  “Planning your escape, my slave?” His breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck, as he pushed her hair aside and trailed his mouth to the side of her neck just above the rim of her translator collar.

  Alana swallowed over her dry throat. “Escape is a soldier’s first duty when captured by the enemy.”

  He chuckled. “As you can see, Cerciron is not an easy planet. Note the cloud formation to your right, my Alana. Already the storm is gathering its momentum. In a bare one rone it will unleash its power onto the earth. At such times, it is best not to be above ground.” His grip tightened. “I will protect you if I have to chain you to my wall.”

  “There’s no need to do anything so drastic. At the moment I have nowhere else to go.” She shuffled her booted feet and scowled.

  The Commander spun her around to face him. He cupped her face with one hand and his dark eyes scorched into hers with the intensity of a furnace. “And you will go nowhere. Your place is here. By my side.”

  “As your slave,” Alana challenged. She glared at his smug expression.