by Anna Carven
And I’ve just decided something. The General is coming to Earth with me.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
Tarak
“It’s here somewhere.” Berad Sokal, brothel-owner, smuggler and unofficial ‘boss’ of the Fourth Quarter, taps a panel beside his holoscreen. He runs a hand through his darkening hair, tapping one cybernetic foot impatiently. “Ah. Here ya go. Access code for the landflyer. It’s unregistered, unmarked and untraceable. A bit old and slow, but it’ll get ya where ya need to go.” He narrows his eyes. “Bit unusual for ya to be comin’ here unannounced, General. Somethin’ up?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, Berad.” I study the symbols on the holoscreen, memorizing the access code.
“She’s parked two sections from here, in the grey hangar beside the meat shop. Ya can’t miss it.” He joins me as I stand, walking me to the door. His gait is slightly uneven, a result of having a cybernetic leg replacement.
“Been a while since my military days, but I know when somethin’s up, Tarak. I ain’t so dumb as to ask, but just take care.”
“As always,” I reply, briefly clasping his hand in the military way. Despite the fact that he conducts most of his business outside the limits of Kordolian Law, Berad is trustworthy. He served as the First Division’s weapons master for many cycles before getting his leg blown off on a remote expedition.
He still knows his weapons. Under my ordinary looking robes, I’m now equipped with two plasma guns and a vicious, short Callidum sword. Even though I miss my long swords and would have preferred a high-powered military plasma cannon, they would have drawn too much attention. These small, concealed weapons will suffice. Berad always comes up with the goods.
He will not betray me.
And now that we have access to an untraceable flyer, we can start our journey to the Vaal.
I return to the antechamber to find Abbey sitting with her arms crossed, her entire demeanor hostile. But with her features hidden by the hood and the dark-vision goggles, I can’t read her so well.
The pleasure worker has disappeared.
I give her a small nod and she follows me out.
“You were not bothered?” I say quietly, as we go back through the dark entrance.
“Not so much,” she replies, but there’s a hard edge to her voice.
I wonder if that pleasure worker tried anything stupid. If he did, I am tempted to go back there and fucking strangle him, but Abbey’s not saying a thing.
Whatever happened, she’s obviously handled it.
We step back onto the throughway and start to head away from the pleasure district. I follow Berad’s directions, and we end up in an area lined with storage facilities. Some of the buildings are ridden with ice-rot, their signage faded, the windows cracked. There’s a meat shop on the corner, just like Berad told me. It’s closed now, the grimy windows darkened. It looks neglected. I can’t even tell if it’s operational.
Berad must have keyed the entrance to the hangar to my bio-signature, because the large doors open as we approach.
I pull Abbey inside, out of the cold.
“You-”
“Shh.” I push down her scarf and press my finger against her lips. I didn’t have to. I simply wanted to see her face and feel her soft, sweet skin.
I glance behind.
Just now, I thought I sensed something. I peer around. We’re in a large, dark storage shed that appears to double as a hangar. The flyer is in the corner, just as Berad said it would be. It’s an older model, from the pre-Callidum era, its body a dull silver color, as opposed to the Callidum-black of our newer craft.
I look around, my senses stretched taut, listening for even the barest hint of movement.
But there’s nothing.
If someone’s trailing me and they’ve evaded my notice, that would make them very, very good. A formidable enemy indeed. I need to stay vigilant.
We’re not out on the Vaal yet. Despite my best efforts to evade surveillance, the civilized zones of Kythia are full of hidden eyes. There’s always the possibility I might have been recognized.
But it’s pointless to worry about any of that now. The sooner we reach the Vaal, the sooner I can find Prince Xalikian. He wishes to meet me, but I also have vital information for him. Sensitive information, that can only be given in person. There’s no way I’d allow him to enter the civilized zones just to find me.
So we go to him.
The Humans’ reproductive compatibility could be the very thing we’ve been looking for, all this time.
And the place we’ve been searching for? It could be Earth.
Even though the light of their star makes it sickeningly bright. Even though we would have to co-exist with Humans. Even though it’s in an inconvenient sector of the universe.
It could be Earth.
“I’m guessing that’s our ride?” Abbey’s soft voice interrupts my thoughts. With her dark-vision goggles on, she can see perfectly well.
“That is the flyer we’re using, yes.”
“It’s small.”
“Yes.”
“It has auto-pilot?”
“Of course.” These primitive Humans. What kind of flyer doesn’t have auto-pilot?
“You’ll be looking for a way to spend the time, won’t you, Tarak?”
I like it when she says my name like that, sounding both stern and playful. Shaped by her sexy Earth accent, it sounds good. I will never tire of the sound of her voice.
“Any objections?”
“I’ll do you a deal. You tell me what you’re doing here on Kythia, and I will be more than willing to compromise.” She presses a gloved hand against my hardness, feeling me through the thin robes.
“A piece of information, in exchange for-”
“Exactly.”
Devious female.
“Very well,” I growl, admiring her persistence. I’m pleased with the compromise. The corner of her mouth quirks upwards. “But wait until we are a good distance from the civilized zones. Once we are over the Vaal, we shall talk.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Abbey
Tarak keeps the cabin of the flyer pitch black, and I’m guessing that’s because he doesn’t want us to be spotted. As we leave the city behind, we become engulfed by darkness, with nothing to guide us but the glittering stars.
He’s at home in the darkness. It’s a little unsettling how he can see perfectly well.
Thankfully, I’ve got the dark-vision goggles. I look out at the scenery below. The flyer has a clear, curving roof that allows a 180-degree view of the sky and surrounding landscape.
The place Tarak calls The Vaal is completely flat.
It’s flat and white and desolate.
There’s not a single tree or bush or even a blade of grass to be seen.
Occasionally, an outcrop of earth rises out of the plain like an island, but even those are just barren lumps of rock or dirt.
There’s nothing living out here at all. It’s just frost and ice.
“It’s an ocean,” Tarak informs me, leaving his seat to come up behind me. He traces his fingers down the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “When our star died, the seas froze over, leaving flat, endless plains of ice. That is what we call the Vaal.”
“And our destination is somewhere out there?”
“There are Kordolian tribes that exist in the Vaal. Animals, too. They have evolved. Adapted. We are searching for one of the Lost Tribes, called the Aikun.”
“That’s why you guys see in the dark and don’t mind the cold.”
“So it seems.” His voice is a low rumble, his touch warm and certain. Possessive. I shudder, feeling cosy for the first time since we left the freighter.
“So what do the lost tribes have that’s so secret and so important?”
Tarak is silent for a while, looking at me with his depthless eyes. Viewed through the lenses of the dark-vision goggles, he’s a study in monochrome, his silver skin taking on a pearlescent shee
n, his eyes almost glowing.
He looks like something out of a fairytale; a prince of the night.
Look at me, getting all dramatic now.
“The Imperial Prince has exiled himself to the wastelands of the Vaal. The Lost Tribes of the plains are loyal to him; they consider him as one of their own. I see potential in Xalikian, and I need to personally discuss certain developments with him, because there is a role I want him to play. These events may impact on the future survival of our race. It is too risky for him to return to the civilized zones right now, because there are many who would rather see him dead. Therefore, I go to seek him out.”
Oh. Talk about dramatic. I close my mouth, wondering when my jaw dropped.
Tarak shrugs. “Kythian politics is complex.”
“Obviously.” I had no idea Tarak was tight with the Imperial family. “You’re kind of a big deal around here, aren’t you?”
“I’ve always tried to serve the Empire with distinction.” His voice is distant. For a moment, he’s quiet, looking out over the empty Vaal. Is it just me, or does he sound a little bit conflicted? He’s curling his fingers around the nape of my neck, stroking the bare skin there. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he asks softly.
We’re gliding over a frozen sea, alone in a desolate wasteland, and I’m seeing another side to Tarak. It’s a rare glimpse of his inner thoughts.
I wonder what this battle-hardened male has seen and done in his lifetime. Some good things, and some terrible things, I’d imagine, all in the name of the Kordolian Empire.
My curiosity is far from satisfied, but I don’t tell him that. If I have my way, there will be plenty of time to get to know him.
Instead I remove my gloves, taking his hands into mine. I’m sitting in the passenger seat and he’s standing behind me, looking out over the Vaal, the flyer on autopilot.
It feels as if we’re the only two beings on this planet, with millions of miles of vast emptiness surrounding us. It’s as if we’re stuck in infinity; in darkness.
I get up and walk to him. As I reach him, he takes the dark-vision goggles from my face. Without them, it’s pitch black. I can’t see a thing, but I’m anchored by the feel of his warm, hard body, pressing into mine.
“I want to see your eyes,” he says, tracing his rough thumb down my cheek.
“It’s okay,” I reply, running my fingers along his jawline, over the tips of his ears, along his cheekbones, down his nose, to his lips. I trust him. And I rather like this perspective, viewing him with a different sense. Touch is so powerful. He takes one finger into his mouth, and my finger brushes against the sharp points of his fangs.
It turns me on.
He sucks on my finger, his mouth warm and wanting. That simple act makes me moan in surprise and pleasure. I never thought such a thing could feel so insanely erotic.
I’m about to reach out and tear his robes off when a deafening blast goes off, and a flash of light tears through the clear roof of the flyer, missing Tarak’s head by an inch. Going from darkness to blazing light, I’m momentarily blinded. The bolt of light, or whatever it was, has hit the wall behind me, causing a shower of sparks to fly.
An eerie whistling sound echoes through the cabin. I can’t see anything, but it seems like the blast has left a small hole. A stream of freezing air starts to flow inside, causing the temperature to drop instantly.
Tarak spits out a string of vicious sounding Kordolian curse-words.
He picks up my dark-vision goggles. “Put these on.” He passes me something; a blaster of sorts. “Plasma gun. Anyone bothers you, push this button here, and pull the trigger. I’m going outside. Someone’s out there.”
“What?” I look up through the clear roof in alarm. “But-”
I was about to say something silly, like ‘it’s dangerous,’ but Tarak’s throwing off his cumbersome robes and trousers and drawing out his armor, the inky, liquid black stuff coalescing and hardening over his skin.
“I fucking hate being interrupted,” he growls, pulling a nasty looking short blade from somewhere, sheathing it at his back. He bends over to kiss me, and I twine my fingers with his. His hand is now covered with a hard, exo-armor glove. It feels totally impenetrable. No wonder the peacekeepers on Fortuna Tau backed off when Tarak and his boys turned up. I really hope they’re doing okay, back there.
We’ll need to talk about that.
And there’s another little discussion I’m going to have to shelve for later. I still don’t get how the exo-armor works. The nanites live in his body, or something. Are they symbiotic, perhaps? Even though I’ve studied biotech inside and out, nano-technology just boggles my mind.
It’s way beyond what we Humans are capable of right now.
“Don’t move. I’ll be back. If you see an intruder, shoot.” Tarak turns, and the black stuff glides over his face, forming a menacing helm. I’d hate to be his enemy. He opens a hatch at the top and pulls himself up and out, letting a blast of cold air into the cabin.
For a moment, the wind rushes past, impossibly noisy. Then he shuts the hatch, and everything goes silent, save for the thin whistle of cold air that flows in through the crack in the roof.
I hear a thud, then the flyer shakes a little, then there’s footsteps. Tarak appears on the roof, a black-armored figure. He’s followed by a person dressed all in white. The flyer rocks back and forth, unsettled by their movements.
They’re trading blows.
Tarak’s attacker is agile and nimble, but Tarak is equally as fast, and their movements become a blur. Tarak has drawn his blade, and the attacker keeps hurling things at him. They look like small throwing knives. The weapons are thrown with vicious intent, but they deflect off his armor harmlessly. Tarak dances out of the way, looking for an opening.
Who the hell is this white-clad person?
He, and it’s definitely a he, is wearing a mask of some sort, concealing his features. For a brief moment, he looks down, and it’s as if he’s focusing on me, marking me through the transparent roof. The mask he wears is as creepy as hell; it’s got two black, tear-shaped marks where the eyes should be, but it’s otherwise smooth and faceless.
That split second of distraction is enough for Tarak to sweep the assassin’s feet out from under him. The attacker lands on his back and Tarak tries to stick him with his sword, but the masked guy rolls out of the way.
Tarak stabs again, but again the guy rolls. What Tarak’s trying to do looks near-impossible; he’s balancing on his feet while the flyer rocks back and forth, cold air streaming past them, the whole thing moving at ridiculous speed.
I’m surprised they haven’t fallen off.
The thought of Tarak dropping to the barren wasteland below scares the shit out of me.
There’s no way I’m going to just sit here like an idiot while he’s risking his life out there. I stare down at the weapon Tarak’s left in my hands. It’s similar to an Earth-style bolt pistol, but this one obviously fires plasma. I tap the little button the way Tarak showed me and a series of blue lights flickers along one side.
Whoa. It’s charging?
Was that the safety?
It’s surprisingly light in my hands. I curl my finger around the trigger and walk over to the point where Tarak’s attacker is rolling around on the roof. He aims a gun at Tarak, but Tarak kicks it out of his hand, the weapon flying off into nothingness.
I look through the clear barrier, my arm trembling slightly as I raise the gun. I add my other hand, trying to steady my aim.
I’ve never actually fired a gun before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.
I wait, both arms raised, forcing myself to breathe slowly. My heart is hammering inside my chest.
The guy above is moving all over the place as Tarak stalks him, trying to get a hit in.
I wait, because I don’t want to hit Tarak. I wait to get a clear shot.
Get out of the way, love.
There.
I pull the trigger,
and there’s a blinding flash of light. A boom reverberates around the cabin, and the recoil of the plasma gun sends me crashing to the floor.
Did I hit him? I’m not sure.
Tarak
The assassin’s head explodes in a spray of black blood, leaving a splatter of black dots across my visor, marring my vision. His death mask disintegrates into thousands of tiny fragments, instantly whipped away by the rushing wind.
I blink, and then the attacker’s body is gone, having tumbled to the icy wasteland below.
My vision clears as the nanites forming my armor internalize the organic matter. For the minuscule bio-machines, the blood is a source of energy, nothing more.
I look down through the clear roof of the flyer. It has two holes now, but the material has not fragmented. Below me, Abbey is lying on the floor, the plasma gun clasped in her trembling hands.
She looks so small and vulnerable, her face pale and luminous against the dark background of the flyer’s cabin, her eyes hidden by the dark-vision goggles.
This tiny, fragile Human has just taken out a Silent One, a notorious Imperial assassin. They are the most dreaded of killers, feared throughout the galaxy.
She stares up at me, and the most glorious thing happens. She smiles. Her expression is filled with relief, but also with a savage protectiveness I haven’t witnessed before.
Crazy Human. She will be a fine mother to our child.
My female is insane, and I am completely, utterly obsessed with her.
To think I once regarded her species as inferior. She has proven herself braver and cleverer than any Kordolian female I have known.
I open the hatch and drop back into the cabin, willing my helm to retract. The outside air is streaming in from two holes in the roof now, causing an infernal whistling sound to echo throughout the cabin.
I take the plasma gun from her hands, reset the safety and pull her into my arms. It takes her a moment to regain her balance.
She’s shivering, and her lips have taken on a blue tinge.
Even at this low flight level, the atmospheric air is much colder than it is on the surface.
