Forged in Shadow

by Anna Carven

  Forged in Shadow

  Dark Planet Warriors Book 5

  Anna Carven

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Copyright © 2016 by Anna Carven

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  Sergeant Arin Varga resisted the temptation to adjust her collar as she sat in the witness stand. Her formal military suit was stiff and uncomfortable, and she thanked the stars she only had to wear the damn thing once every few years.

  She’d never expected she would have to dust it off to front up to a Senate Committee, and she’d been surprised to find it tight at the shoulders but a little loose around her waist and ass. A couple of years patrolling a gigantic mining station on substandard space rations could do that to a body.

  “Sergeant Varga, do you understand that you are under Truth Monitoring, and that you are under oath for the purposes of this interview?”

  “I understand.” A monitoring cap covered her cropped hair, capturing her brain waves. To her left, a holoscreen displayed her neural signals as indecipherable colored squiggles. Its complex neuranalysis algorithms would reveal even the slightest hint of a lie.

  It was standard procedure, and it didn’t bother Arin. She had nothing to hide.

  “Could you please state your full name, rank, and station for the Committee?” Her questioner was a stern woman with short gunmetal-grey hair called Senator Monroe. A few years ago, Monroe had headed some big investigation into Human-alien relations.

  Back then, the senator had been skeptical about opening Earth’s borders to nonhumans.

  Arin straightened and gazed across the room, making eye contact with each member of the Committee. “Sergeant Arin Varga, Peacekeeper Division Morrigan Five, formerly assigned to protection duty on the Armium mining and processing station Fortuna Tau.”

  Beside her, thin blue lines ran across the monitor.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Varga.” The senator stood, walking slowly across the floor until she reached the stand. The Committee was made up of five senators who sat in a semi-circle facing Arin. The gallery behind them was filled with their support staff and the representatives of various Federation Agencies.

  Of course, they all had the proper security clearances. Whatever Arin said wouldn’t go beyond these walls.

  Welcome back to Earth, Varga.

  It was her first day back on sweet Earth soil, and already she’d been hauled before this pain-in-the-ass Committee. But that was all part of the plan. She had a job to do. Arin schooled her features into a blank mask, careful not to betray any sign of her impatience.

  “Go planetside and explain the situation to your leaders in terms they understand. Don’t take too long. The Xargek are multiplying as we speak. Your entire planet is at stake now, Arin.”

  Monroe looked down at a datapad, going over her notes. “We’ve heard from a number of experts on this matter, but I wanted to get your input on a few specific points, especially since you’re the only peacekeeper who’s actually been allowed off the Hendrix II.” The senator regarded Arin with a steely gaze, raising a questioning eyebrow. Her tone was skeptical. “It seems you were ‘close to the action’, as they say.”

  Unruffled, Arin returned Monroe’s stare. She refused to be intimidated.

  “Sergeant, some alarming footage has been passed onto us. We’ve all heard rumors about the Xargek, but this is the first time we’ve gained direct vision of their offensive capabilities. They are clearly a threat to Earth and to the Human race. You are one of the few peacekeepers with first-hand combat experience against these monsters. For that reason, I will ask you: how do we kill them?”

  Arin gave the senator a long, hard look, choosing her words carefully. “For that, you need a Kordolian.”

  Murmurs rippled through the audience. Monroe’s eyes narrowed. She obviously didn’t like Arin’s answer. “Do you care to clarify that statement, Sergeant?”

  “It’s exactly as I said. Only the Kordolians have the capacity to take down a mature Xargek.”

  “I find it hard to believe you couldn’t eliminate any of the enemy up there, Varga.”

  Arin shrugged. “We killed a few larvae.”

  “A few larvae,” Monroe stated flatly. “Were you on vacation up there, soldier?”

  “Vacation?” Arin stiffened. “I don’t think the families of the men and women killed by those monsters would agree with that sentiment, senator.”

  Monroe opened her mouth then closed it again, shooting Arin a frosty glare. “Tell me about the Kordolians,” she said, changing the subject. “Not one, but two hostile species have appeared in Earth’s orbit during the past week. The Kordolians have captured the Superfreighter Hendrix II, and we don’t know what they want. There have been reports of Xargek attacks in the deserts around Naea. Now you’re telling me only the Kordolians can kill the Xargek? Tell me, Sergeant. What makes them so special? What makes you think only they have the capacity to kill Xargek when we have equipped you with the most advanced offensive weaponry in the Federation?”

  A sarcastic answer found its way to the tip of Arin’s tongue, but she bit it back. She reminded herself that she was sitting before a Senate Committee, not idling in the grease pits with her squad. She had to try and act civilized.

  “Kordolians are super-evolved beings,” she answered, keeping her tone neutral. “The Xargek are impervious to bolt powered weapons and any other incendiary substance known to man. The only thing I’ve seen successfully penetrate their exoskeletons is a Callidum blade. And the only being possessing the speed, power, aggression, technology, and experience needed to take on a fully grown Xargek is a Kordolian warrior. As much as we love our bolt-weapons, senator, we have nothing on the Kordolians. We might not like to hear it, but there’s a reason they’re holding half the known galaxies hostage.”

  Beside her, the Truth Monitor flickered blue and green. Arin was cool, calm, and collected, and she was telling the honest-to-Jupiter truth.

  “So it seems,” Monroe said dryly. She studied her datapad for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch between them. A few awkward coughs and shuffles punctuated the stillness.

  Arin tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation spreading across her lower back. Sitting still for long periods of time didn’t agree with her. She
needed to be up and about, moving, doing something. This pointless interrogation was starting to make her edgy.

  Finally, the senator looked up. “The way you describe these Kordolians, one might almost think you don’t regard them as enemies. How would you describe your interaction with these aliens, Sergeant?”

  Frisky.

  That was the first word that popped into her head as she recalled the infuriating Kordolian called Rykal. Arin quickly tried to scrub such thoughts from her mind.

  “We had an agreement,” Arin said bluntly. “They needed something from us, and we needed something from them. I would say our relationship was one of necessity. If we’d made the mistake of engaging them in a fight, I doubt I’d be sitting here and talking to you right now.”

  Rykal.

  He’d been an asshole at first. He’d taken her hostage, using a quick-and-dirty tactic to secure their co-operation. She remembered the feel of his rough gloved hands on her throat. His naked Callidum blade had been pressed against the bare skin of her neck, and for a moment, Arin had known nothing but fear. He’d moved so damn fast. If Arin or any of her squad had been stupid enough to retaliate, would he have slit her throat?

  In the end, he hadn’t put a scratch on her.

  And afterwards, when the Kordolians had ensured they were all spooked enough not to try anything, he’d changed, turning from aggressor to protector-by-default.

  Default.

  They shared a common enemy. That was all.

  “I can assure you, senator,” Arin added, “there is no way I consider the Kordolians to be our allies.”

  That damned Rykal. He’d seemed to find every possible excuse to appear around her. It was almost as if he’d enjoyed sneaking up on her.

  As red lines flickered across the Truth Monitor, a smug expression crossed Senator Monroe’s face. “There seems to be a discrepancy in what you’re saying, Sergeant. Do you care to rephrase your last statement?”

  “Are you implying that I’m being untruthful?”

  “The Monitor doesn’t lie.”

  “I don’t see a falsehood notification on the Monitor,” Arin retorted. She knew how this shit worked. She’d watched her share of crappy courtroom dramas on the NetCom. If the Monitor detected a lie, an alert signal would flash across the holoscreen. The senator was just trying cheap intimidation tactics on her.

  “She’s right, Senator Monroe.” One of the other Committee members, a dignified looking man called Senator Aquinas, looked up from his notes. “You know very well that not all readings in the amber to red range signify deception. Quite frankly, your line of questioning is starting to resemble a prosecution. Sergeant Varga is here because she was witness to a hostile takeover, not because she’s committed a crime. I’ve heard several analyses of this incident, and personally, I think her actions should be commended.” He looked down at his datapad, a small sigh escaping him. “It’s going to be a long day. We have quite a list of interviews to get through. I suggest we adjourn for a quick recess before continuing with the day’s proceedings.” He glanced across at his fellow committee members. “Any objections?”

  There were none.

  Monroe shot Aquinas a frosty glare, and some sort of silent communication passed between them. Clearly, these two weren’t friends.

  Serves you right, dragon lady, Arin thought. The woman wasn’t handling the truth well. Kordolians were physically superior. That was just the way things were. Sooner or later, the Human race had to accept the fact that they weren’t at the top of the Universal food chain.

  As people began to file out of the chambers, the Truth Monitor flashed blue and green, much to Arin’s relief. The red signals had surprised her.

  What was that all about?

  She liked to think she had pretty good control over her inner thoughts and emotions.

  But deep down, she knew what had happened.

  Rykal had invaded her thoughts. Again. That alien was pure trouble wrapped up in impenetrable obsidian exo-armor. He’d found every excuse to appear at the most inconvenient of times, turning up to boss her around or ask some obscure question. Arin had tried to ignore him, but it had been oh-so difficult. How was one supposed to ignore an overfamiliar alien who could be playfully gentle with one hand and deal swift, silent death with the other?

  He was impossible. The smoldering amber glances, the way he’d ‘accidentally’ brushed against her, the insolent flash of his fangs. He had no understanding of the concept of ‘personal space’.

  He was still was causing her trouble, and he wasn’t even here.

  He was somewhere up in low Earth orbit on a hijacked Superfreighter, probably terrorizing the crew and the passengers.

  After this interrogation was over, she had to get back up there. Her people were up there, and she knew how to handle the Kordolians. These Federation guys didn’t. They would screw everything up.

  The Monitor started to flash orange and red. Exasperated, Arin ripped off the monitoring cap before her thoughts could betray her any further.

  The warden of the chambers stepped up to the stand, giving Arin a strange look. “Happens all the time,” he said flatly. “Red and orange are just colors. Emotions. It’s the pattern that counts. You ain’t lying unless the machine’s neuranalysis says so.” He pressed a button, releasing the sliding gate. “Take a break, Sergeant. Go smoke a Juvi-stick or something. Relax. You ain’t off the hook yet. They’ll all want to put the hard talk on you. Trick is to stay calm and figure out what they want. They’ve all got their own agendas. Use that to your advantage.”

  “Huh.” Arin stepped out of the booth, grateful for the chance to stretch her legs. The warden was right. She would be back in the stand after the recess, and she needed to regain her composure.

  She had to try and keep her thoughts away from Rykal.

  Focus, Varga, you idiot.

  Somehow, she had to convince these civilians that Humankind’s only hope of defeating the Xargek lay in co-operating with the Kordolians.

  But what happened when every last Xargek was dead and the Kordolian General returned to retrieve his men?

  Would Rykal act so friendly then, or would he once again become the cold, brutal warrior who hadn’t hesitated to hold a knife to her throat?

  Chapter Two

  Rykal missed his ashika. He secretly called her that because she reminded him of one. Ashika. Iceblade. Sharp, direct, and effective. Without her level-headed guidance, the Humans were starting to become panicky again.

  An ashika was a special type of blade. The Aikun used them to hack through the thick ice sheets of the Vaal, creating portals to the frigid ocean below so they could hunt the eyeless creatures in the depths.

  Rykal wasn’t really sure how he knew that, but he did. Fragments of stolen memories surfaced every now and then, vivid and baffling and intense. It happened to all of them, but for some reason, Rykal experienced flashbacks more frequently than the others.

  He munched on a bar of protein mix as he surveyed the cargo hold. The craft they’d escaped on was a large, bulky thing the Humans referred to as a superfreighter, and it had been their ticket off the doomed mining station.

  Rykal went still, extending his senses. Except for the ever-present background hum of the ship’s engine, all was silent. He listened carefully for the telltale skittering of Xargek larvae, but there was nothing. He peered into the darkness, scanning rows of empty cargo containers. Before they’d escaped Fortuna Tau, the containers had been full of crudely processed Armium metal. They’d ordered the Humans to dump as much of the payload as possible. Less weight equaled greater speed.

  Rykal’s hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. In close quarters, stealth and speed were king. The best way to clear out a Xargek nest was to stalk, stab, impale, and sever. In silence. In darkness. That was what they did best, and it was why they were feared throughout the Nine Galaxies.

  Most of the time, their enemies died before they knew what had hit them.

 
As Rykal crept forward, soft sounds tickled his sensitive hearing.

  Whispered words reached his ears, uttered in indecipherable Human-speak.

  Then, footsteps. Rustling fabric. The scrape of clumsy limbs against hard armor. Minute metallic creaks as unsteady fingers clutched ungainly weapons.

  An ironic smile twisted Rykal’s lips. Someone was trying to hunt him.

  Humans. They were eternally optimistic.

  He moved silently down the aisle, drawing his dagger. He could smell them now. Humans gave off a distinct scent, especially when they were afraid. The coarse rasp of his breathing betrayed the first Human, who was just around the corner from him.

  Rykal waited in the darkness.

  The Human shuffled into his line of vision, his bolt-gun raised. He wore a pair of goggles with glowing green lenses. He looked around, snapping his head left and right. His breathing was labored, and a faint sheen of moisture coated his cheeks.

  He had no idea that Rykal was behind him. Rykal took a step forward, placing the tip of his dagger against the back of the Human’s neck, ensuring he applied just enough pressure to make his intent clear. “What are you doing, Human?” His voice was low and soft, and threaded with a dangerous undercurrent. He spoke Universal, the language developed and spread by the Empire. Like all societies that aspired to trade throughout the Nine Galaxies, Humans had adopted Universal, molding it to suit their strange, lilting accents.

  “You’re outnumbered, alien,” the Human hissed. “Drop your weapons and we might let you live.”

  “Are you dense, man?” Rykal shook his head. “Don’t be foolish.” It wasn’t his habit to give the enemy a friendly warning, but he’d grown strangely fond of these funny soft-bodied creatures called Humans. They were irrational and sentimental, and they allowed their actions to be guided by their emotions. It was somehow endearing.

  “Don’t get too full of yourself, alien,” hissed the Human. “There’s only one of you, and there are many of us. Too many for you to take down on your own.”