Dark Planet Warriors: The Serial (Books 1-3)

by Anna Carven

  There’s nowhere for me to run, nowhere to hide.

  Where the hell is Tarak when I need him? As I try to evade the Kordolians, one of them catches me by the wrist, his grip like steel. Like the General, these guys are insanely strong. I flail about, trying to wrench away from his iron grasp.

  His buddy comes up behind me, and the other two guys also close in. I’m outnumbered four to one.

  The soldiers are staring at the scene before them in shock, still engaged in a rapid-fire back and forth with the white robe guys. “A little help here,” I gasp, appealing to them with a desperate glance.

  They stare at me in confusion, but just as I sense I’m getting through to them, something sharp pokes me in the back of the neck.

  Feels like a needle.

  Oh, shit.

  My last thought, before I black out, is that I really need to stop letting these Kordolians sedate me all the time. Then, my vision goes hazy, and everything fades away.

  Abbey

  When I open my eyes again, the world blurs slowly back into focus. Kordolian voices murmur all around me. My head is spinning.

  I try to move, but something is pinning down my arms and legs. Something hard and inflexible is clamped around my wrists and feet. The restraints have sharp edges. I think I’m bleeding a little.

  And it’s bloody freezing cold. There’s no warmth in this Kordolian world. Everything is dark and cold and inhuman. They’ve lived without the warmth of a star for so long they’ve turned into creatures of darkness and ice.

  I’m strapped down on some kind of table, and I’m totally naked.

  Oh sweet Earth, how I miss you right now. I preferred life when it was simple, when I could just retreat into my room and watch silly twentieth-century movies on Netcom in my pajamas, with a bowl of ramen.

  Oh, for the good old days.

  I shudder, closing my eyes again as a white-robed figure passes close to me. I feign unconsciousness.

  This is beyond bad.

  Drugged and strapped to a table on an alien space station? That only means one thing. They’re about to turn me into a giant lab rat.

  The frigid, hard surface of the table is brutal against the bare skin of my back and ass, My body trembles slightly, threatening to erupt into full-blown shivering.

  I am so sick and tired of this damn cold. If I ever make it back to Earth, I’m having a month-long, warm bubble bath.

  What would be better than a long, hot soak right about now? A long, hot soak with a grumpy, bossy, silver alien? There would be something so oddly satisfying about seeing General Tarak covered in fluffy bubble bath suds.

  A robotic machinery sound brings me back to reality and I mentally kick myself for thinking such stupid things at a time like this. I’m about to be dissected by aliens and I’m thinking about that muscle-headed jerk, naked? The word delirious comes to mind. Maybe it’s the drugs they shot into me.

  Speaking of the jerk, where the hell is he, anyway? My anger rises, mingling with a growing sense of helplessness. He’s the one who got me into this situation, and now he’s letting these robe-wearing assholes turn me into a human guinea pig?

  I hope this isn’t what he intended all along. I really hope he hasn’t sold me out.

  Because that would be rather disappointing.

  I almost thought we had a little connection going on there.

  And he keeps invading my thoughts with his damn nakedness.

  I freeze as a pair of cold, gloved hands touches the bare skin at my neck. I fight with every ounce of my self-control to keep from moving. Because some instinct tells me I shouldn’t let them know that I’m awake right now. The hands trace down my chest, resting at my breasts, before examining my stomach. They poke and prod and feel around, and I fight to keep from wincing in pain.

  Seriously dude, I’m not a fucking beanbag.

  The creepy alien hands descend to my pelvis, moving over the prominent bones of my hips, tracing down to my pussy, running over the soft, sensitive flesh. I bite down on my lower lip, drawing blood. It’s the only thing that’s stopping me from screaming right now as revulsion courses through me. This is like every bad, twentieth-century alien movie coming true all at once.

  But all of a sudden, the hand freezes.

  “Zhyl sarba ak Human regeliss.” Or something like that. The sharp voice pierces my misery. I recognize it all too well. Zyara.

  The hand stops, then it’s gone. Oh, thank sweet Jupiter.

  Zyara and the pervert examiner, a male Kordolian with a deep voice, exchange heated words as I keep my eyes closed. I’m dying to see what’s going on, and yet I’m desperate to seem asleep. I don’t want to draw his attention again.

  Then, a distant alarm sounds, and Mr Creepyhands curses in Kordolian, before leaving in a huff.

  It’s only when he’s gone that I dare open my eyes again.

  Zyara’s standing over me, her orange gaze brimming with pity.

  “Oh don’t give me that look,” I growl, as she rests a cool hand on my cheek. “I was going to kick him in the nuts as soon as I got the chance.”

  “Strange Human,” Zyara murmurs, shaking her head. “The Sylerian has become so much less effective on you since I first dosed you. You’ve developed remarkable tolerance in such a short time.”

  “I’ve been told I have an efficient liver. Always did well in drinking contests. So are you going to help me get out of here, or are you one of the bad guys too?” I try to look up, but even my head is strapped down, a thick, metal band resting against my forehead. I’m naked all over. They didn’t even leave me a scrap for modesty. Bastards.

  I should be blushing all over. But Zyara stuck me in the stasis tank to begin with, and I’m sure she’s seen all my naughty bits before. So to hell with ‘decorum’, as the General calls it.

  “Quiet, Abbey.” Zyara fiddles with something on the side of the table and the restraints are suddenly gone, retracting into the metal surface. “We don’t have much time. I’ve created a diversion, but the scientists will soon de-activate the alarm. You need to run. And just so you know, I’m loyal to the General.”

  “So all this bizarro test-subject stuff isn’t his doing?”

  That little shake of her head in response is the sweetest thing I’ve seen all day. I breathe a sigh of relief as I sit up, stretching my stiff limbs. “You’ve got impeccable timing, Zyara.”

  She stares at me blankly, before turning and ripping a curtain-thing from a nearby cubicle, making it look effortless. I guess lady Kordolians must also be ridiculously strong.

  She hands me the silvery fabric. “I’m afraid I have no garments for you. Cover yourself and run. The General’s quarters are on the lowest level. Keep going down until you reach the windows with the view of the Dark Planet. I’ll distract the scientists.” She punches a machine beside the table, causing sparks to fly everywhere. A holoscreen starts to flicker, a rapid sequence of images flitting across it. She rips her own white robes a little and messes her hair. “Now it looks as if you’ve overpowered me.”

  “Ha,” I grin as I wrap the silvery material around my body. It’s like liquid silk, all slippery and fine, but I manage to fashion it into an awkward sort of toga, securing a knot over one shoulder. “Like Frankenstein, the big, bad Human escapes.”

  Zyara gives me an odd look, before rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Human, go,” she sighs. “I will hold them off until the General gets here.”

  “He’s uh, on his way?”

  “Oh, he’ll be here,” she says darkly. “And he’s going to be angry.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tarak

  I run to the medical bay, pushing startled troops out of the way. I need to get there before they do anything irreversible to Abbey. The return trip to the Fleet Station took long enough, and time is running out. I can’t afford to let the High Council get their hands on her.

  I pump my legs, taking long strides down the sloping corridor. Bloodlust sharpens my vision and makes my hear
t pound. I’m ready to kill the one who dared to touch my Human.

  The pain behind my eyes is still there, but I channel it into aggression.

  A distant voice at the back of my mind tells me I’m acting irrationally.

  I don’t care. How dare the Council take what’s mine from right under my nose? On my Fleet Station?

  Unacceptable.

  As I round a corner, I see a group of medics running out of the medical bay, heading towards the lower levels. “She’s headed towards the rec hall,” one of them shouts. I catch up to them easily, overtaking them. They don’t hear me until I’m just behind them.

  “Do you want to die?” I snarl, coming up beside the medics. Three Kordolian males. Their eyes widen in recognition and they stop in the centre of the corridor. They’re young, barely old enough to have finished their training.

  The problem these days is that all the experienced military medics get stationed off-planet.

  Fleet Station, where no action ever happens, gets stuck with recruits.

  “Sir?” The male in the lead blinks, as slow realization creeps across his face.

  “Under whose orders are you acting, recruit?” The question comes out low and menacing. The junior medic unconsciously steps back, fear making his movements stiff.

  “I thought these were your orders, General,” he replies, in growing horror. “You mean you didn’t want her captured and restrained?”

  “Restrained?” I clench my fist to keep from punching something. The nanites that usually flow in my bloodstream have come to the surface, rippling just beneath my skin. It’s slightly painful and I embrace it. Pain is a gift. It keeps me alert. Sharpens my senses. It’s been a familiar companion for most of my life. “I have not given you permission to restrain anyone.”

  “But the Chief Surgeon said-”

  “The Chief Surgeon does not speak for me, Medic. Once you’ve spent a bit of time on Fleet Station, you’ll understand that. Now, who are you going to believe?”

  “Y-you, of course, General.”

  “Good. Now where is the Human?”

  Ashen-faced, they all point in the direction of the communal area. I give them a dark look, baring my fangs. “Get the fuck out of here. The Human is my property. You will abandon your pursuit.”

  “Understood, Sir!”

  As they disappear in the opposite direction, I speed down the hallway, following its slope as it leads me down to the lower levels. I pass by the communal area, finding it empty. Several seats are cast aside, and a table is overturned, telling me the pursuit must have passed this way.

  She’s heading for my quarters. Smart female.

  By now, she will start to discover that her body isn’t the one she was born with. That she’s stronger than before. As a Human, she needed strengthening. They’re such fragile creatures.

  They would not survive Kythia’s harsh climate.

  A familiar tendril of scent reaches my nose. It’s her smell, wild and taunting. But it’s laced with fear.

  And that makes me angry.

  There’s something else mixed in with it. Metallic. Sweet and yet pungent. I remember it from the surgery. Human blood. She’s injured again.

  This has happened to her because of my species. I should have known that she wouldn’t be safe from Kordolians. Even on my Fleet Station. A Human has never been brought to this side of the Nine Galaxies before. To some, she’d be considered a prize.

  But never in my wildest dreams had I expected her to be so genetically similar.

  It makes her valuable. Her very existence here becomes a dangerous one.

  I follow the alluring scent. It sings to me, stirring my most primal instincts. That’s been happening a lot since I found her.

  The scent of female, mingled with blood and fear. It has a strange effect on me, awakening something dark and predatory.

  I follow my nose as the scent becomes stronger. It’s not leading me to my quarters, but to the entrance of the swimming facility.

  As I reach the platform overlooking the pool, I hear a splash, accompanied by an angry yell. “Get away from me, you creepy bastards!”

  Mirkel is standing between two assistants, a sedation needle in hand. He’s at the edge of the pool, peering down into the dark waters. “Keep shooting. Aim for the far end. Once the dart hits her, she will be immobilized,” he says, his emotionless voice echoing through the chamber.

  I’m driven by a sudden urge to kill. As one of his assistants raises a long projectile firing device, I launch myself over the railing, bringing my foot down on the assistant’s skull as I land. The male crashes to the hard floor, unconscious, the weapon falling out of his grasp, rolling into the cold water.

  I see a pale human face rise out of the water briefly, before disappearing again. Abbey. She’s submerged, hiding on the other side of the pool.

  Mirkel whirls around, his thin face contorted in rage. “Akkadian, the Human is no longer your possession. She has been marked as an official asset of the Empire. You will cease and desist from this madness!”

  His white robes are tainted with small, crimson stains. Human blood.

  “Did you touch her, Medic?” I take a deep breath. “I can smell her on you.”

  “Get away from me, Akkadian.” Mirkel’s voice rises a notch. “This is the Empire’s jurisdiction. Interfere and face the consequences.”

  I laugh, a harsh, bitter sound. “Is that supposed to scare me? Unlike you, I’m no longer a slave of the Empire,” I growl, stalking forward, until Mirkel is teetering at the edge of the pool. My dominant hand twitches, seeking the familiar weight of my sword. But I’m still wearing the ridiculous, stiff dress uniform, and weapons aren’t a part of this attire.

  Doesn’t matter. I don’t need weapons to finish off this idiot.

  He must see death in my eyes, because he yells at his accomplice. “Get the tranquilizer. Shoot him!”

  I glare at the kid. “Try it,” I snarl. “See what happens.” The medic freezes, glancing nervously back and forth.

  “Do it, Jerik! This is an order from your superior!”

  The kid fumbles around, retrieving the gun from where it floats in the pool. He raises the weapon with trembling hands. I turn back to Mirkel, ignoring his assistant. “You off all bastards should know that tranq won’t work on me, Chief Surgeon.” I take a step forward. He falls backwards into the water, his long, white robes swirling around him. I grab him by the collar and haul him out again. Water streams off him, plastering his pale hair to his face. Mirkel flails against me, but he knows he’s no match for me.

  “You wouldn’t dare kill me,” he hisses. “I’m the son of a Noble House. The Empress would have your head, freak.”

  “Freak? You made me this way,” I shrug, dumping him on his feet. Water pools beneath him and makes the light robes stick to his thin frame. “And now you want to undo all the good work you’ve done for my Human?”

  A faint splash makes me look up and I see her pale face rising out of the water. She’s at the far end of the pool, closest to the windows. She’s staring at me.

  I cannot allow a transgression like this to go unpunished. On my Fleet Station? Mirkel has overstepped his bounds. After this incident I’m kicking him off the fleet. Talented surgeon or not, disloyalty has no place here. I’ve only tolerated his presence here for the sake of keeping peace with the High Council.

  “You’re right. I wish I could kill you, but I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.” I grab his wrist. He hits me with his free hand, but the blow glances off my cheek without a scratch. He can’t break out of my grasp, no matter how hard he tries.

  “Freak,” he hisses. “Savage.”

  “Your experiments made me into this, Mirkel.” I twist, and the sharp crack of bones is accompanied by Mirkel’s high-pitched scream. I squeeze his hand, and the fine bones give way under my grasp. He cries out in agony.

  “The Empress will hear of this,” he shrieks. “Your days in this ill-advised role are numbered. I
lhan was crazy to appoint you!”

  “Shut up.” I twist again, crushing the flesh of his hand to a pulp. Black blood starts to seep from a protruding bone, as Mirkel falls to his knees in agony. “Or I’ll crush your other hand as well. But you know very well it’s nothing a nanograft won’t fix. If you can get the nanites in the critical period. I hear there’s been a shortage lately. Too many wars, you see. I won’t be donating any of mine.”

  “Yet you would give them to a Human?”

  I throw him to the floor, his right hand mangled and twisted. “Go back to Kythia and get it fixed. Otherwise your days as a surgeon are finished.”

  Mirkel scrambles backwards, glaring at his subordinate. The kid is gaping. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. He’s frozen with fear. I tend to have that effect.

  “Touch my property again and I’ll cut off your hands,” I snarl. “Harm her, and you’re dead.”

  Mirkel glares at me with hatred in his yellow eyes. He’s as poisonous as ever. I shouldn’t have left him on the Fleet Station for so long. He’s never accepted the fact that I, the only subject to survive that particular project of his, am no longer under his control.

  The High Council aren’t going to be happy. But then again, our race as a whole hasn’t been happy with anything for thousands of orbits. All is not well on dark, frigid Kythia.

  Perhaps it’s finally time for change.

  I turn my attention to the ripple at the far end of the pool. She’s disappeared beneath the surface again, hidden from view.

  I have the feeling she may not be entirely pleased to see me.

  No matter. I will simply need to convince her otherwise.

  Abbey

  I go back under the water, and all I can see underneath me are blurry stars. I hate to say it, but this pool is freaking amazing. Gotta hand it to those Kordolians, they’ve built a mean aquatic facility. It’s as if you’re actually swimming in space. Floating above the stars. Incredible.

  Too bad I’m stuck in the middle of a hostile situation.

  And the problem with being underwater, is that like in space, you can’t breathe.