The Iron Altar Series Box Set One: Books 1 to 3

by Casey Lea

  The t’ssaa’s eyes were fully vertical when it stepped into striking range of Wing. It was ready to attack. The kres tensed with the realisation that this was another test and possibly the most important of all.

  “What?” he asked curtly and when he spoke the t’ssaa attacked.

  Its green arm glistened as it struck with the awesome speed that made the reptiles so feared. However, Wing was expecting the blow and reacted instantly. His head jerked and the t’ssaa missed its target. Instead, its fingertips caught the curved gold blade of his nose with stinging impact. He stepped smoothly back, shaking his head to clear it and ducked into a crouch with his hands raised protectively, but the fight was over. The t’ssaa stepped away and rejoined its companions. They regarded Nightwing impassively and then all three tongues flickered to taste the air.

  “He did not panic,” one stated, and the others agreed.

  “He knew fear,” said the t’ssaa that attacked, “but his reactions were only one hundreth sslow.”

  Its companions stirred uneasily and one raised its hand scan toward Wing. “Are all kres sso fast?” it demanded and he realized he had disturbed them.

  “Yes,” he lied. “My reactions are average.”

  The t’ssaa crowded together and one crest rose slightly to show streaks of red. Wing sensed potential violence in their odd minds, but something else as well. His answer excited them.

  “Yess,” the lead prober decided, “your people could be asseptable. You will ssuply ssperm to us.”

  Wing was utterly unprepared for such a request and, across the room, Greon gaped. Their eyes met and the leader groaned inwardly at his Senior’s expression.

  “It’s only sperm,” Greon said gruffly. “I’m sure they’ll pay well. Just provide some.”

  To Greon’s dismay, Nightwing shook a finger in absolute refusal.

  “I will not,” he stated flatly, staring at his Leader to make it clear that no order would change his mind.

  Greon straightened from slouching in the doorway and despite his size wafted silently to join Nightwing. He leaned down to whisper in his Senior’s ear, making Wing flinch. “I know you kres are notoriously nurturing, but it’s not actually children-”

  “Potential children, sah and I won’t negotiate. Not on this.”

  Greon started to hum and crouched lower, while casually raising his arm to lift his com. Wing realized he had just become a shield and clamped his teeth against a sigh. Subtlety was a foreign concept to memaridean. As if to prove his point five mutt shoved their way through the door, skidding and pushing past each like puppies chasing a bone. They raised their arms and their coms shrilled with blast energy.

  Wing wanted to bury his face in his hands, but imminent battle with the t’ssaa trumped his despair over his crew. His com circled his wrist with fire and he focused on his recent attacker. Who was recompressing the last of the t’ssaa’s equipment.

  Wing blinked, but nobody else moved. The remaining lizards watched him calmly, as if he was the only other person in the room. Their tongues flickered constantly, but their arms hung limp at their sides.

  “Very well,” the largest reptile finally said. “Our exam is complete.”

  The mutt turned with a clatter of boots and weapons to stare at Greon. He gestured to the hall and they looked at each other uncertainly. The Leader’s steady hum deepened to a growl, matching Wing’s exasperation.

  “Go,” their Senior ordered, “and wait close outside to escort our guests. They’re just leaving.”

  The largest t’ssaa’s eyes blinked rapidly and it ducked its head. “Thanksss, Nightwing. Good flight and good fight. Perhapss we shall ssee you on Gratuity or Eltok?”

  His eyes strayed to meet Wing’s and a chill touched the kres. “Perhaps,” he agreed noncommittally.

  He watched silently as the t’ssaa finished packing. The aliens were equally quiet, although their tongues flickered constantly as if they were exchanging information. They quickly finished and each lithe individual shouldered a compression sac. Their commander turned back to Nightwing and he was instantly alert again.

  “The sscars on your cheekss are markss of unworth, yess?”

  Wing felt Greon’s instant curiosity, but failed to hide his anger at the question. He found it hard to answer against a sense of choking and had to force words past a stiff throat. “Yes, they’re ritual marks of disHonor.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you wish to know?”

  The t’ssaa was unblinking, but the dark slits of its pupils slid upright and widened, a first sign of battle readiness. “We have esplained already. We wish to know more of kres. More of all peopless.”

  Wing hesitated and realized that his injured emotions were putting his ship at risk. “I disobeyed my ruler, my house and the Bureau of Genome Protection. I’m now cast-out.”

  “Did your father sscar your face?”

  “No, my father died long past. I did it.”

  “This is part of the ritual, yess?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if you refuse?”

  “If I hadn’t cut my face, I would have been force branded. The brand is tiny and on the wrist, but that’s part of the ritual. It offers temptation, but only a coward takes the brand. A kres who scars his cheeks retains some Honor. Not for himself, but for his family.”

  The t’ssaa absorbed his words in silence, although their tongues were as busy as before. They turned away without thanks or any further acknowledgment, for which Wing was grateful. He shuddered as the five mutt reappeared, summoned by Greon to escort the t’ssaa from the med bay. The group’s footsteps receded and stopped when they entered the link. Nightwing started to relax, until a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

  “That didn't look like fun,” Greon stated happily. “You can rest for as long as needed. With sick pay, of course.”

  Wing stifled a curse. “Certain-sure. You’ll get the money.”

  “How many shifts will you opt off?”

  “One alone, sah. It’s all I can afford.”

  “For true, for true. Do enjoy your rest, Senior. I have to make haste back to the nest to give Jileea a fright.” Greon’s hand rose from Nightwing’s shoulder like an anchor weight lifting. The leader stepped jauntily to the door and his silver hair bobbed in time to his humming as he left.

  Nightwing looked sourly after him and ruefully rubbed his shoulder. “Greon’s a leader who truly cares.” He snorted at his own comment and stretched stiffly. He idly tapped his com and it showed a negative reading for any surveillance. Nightwing accepted its reassurance and connected with his console. He checked the data lock implanted in the cells the t’ssaa had harvested from him. It was working and showed a clear trail back to the t’ssaa ship. Wing smiled with satisfaction, relieved that the offensive examination had been worthwhile. He could find them again whenever he wished. He started to close the link, but an image of Pertwing appeared.

  “Hey, hon,” he said automatically, and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

  “Sweetie,” she responded with a languorous smile. “Do you need to run a check on your quarters?”

  Nightwing’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. “Ye, I think I do. How’s Darsey?”

  “I have no knowledge.”

  Nightwing groaned and wondered what else could go wrong. “Alright, where’s Darsey?”

  “I can't answer that question either.”

  Nightwing frowned and wondered how the alien could have escaped his data trace. “Why not?”

  “I can't answer that question.”

  “What? Oh Gods, has she made a personal file?”

  “I can't answer that question.”

  “Which means yes. The gat. She had me thinking she was a console muck.” Nightwing closed his eyes and rubbed wearily at the ache in his cheeks as he sent mental commands via the com to override Darsey’s privacy orders. It was harder to break into her file than he expected and, despite his fury, he felt grudging respect. “How the hail
did she do that? She darted past a dozen command layers.”

  “The female has an eidetic memory.”

  “Darsey has perfect recall? Why didn’t you on-tell before?”

  “She didn't let me and neither did you. I tried to limit her console access, but you overspoke me-”

  “Ye, I know and I’m sorry. I was somewhat distracted.”

  The tiny projection squirmed from her pose reclining on one side to push herself up on an arm. Her expression was genuinely concerned. “I know. Are you well? Did the t’ssaa hurt you?”

  Nightwing waved the questions away and hopped up onto the examining field. He sat there swinging his legs and re-establishing the data lock on Darsey. “I’m fine, but most pleased they’re gone. I won’t volunteer for such again. At last. There’s her signal, just coming from a service way. Lock out her access to vital systems and let her roam.”

  “You’re not going to fetch her?”

  “No. She forced her way out and any trouble that finds her is hers to fix. I’m coming home to cleanse and sleep and then cleanse over. See you soon-as.”

  “Good,” his console murmured, blowing a kiss as she disappeared.

  11

  Violation

  Darsey blinked furiously and a blurred image appeared. Maybe that cabin wasn’t so bad, she thought as consciousness returned. She wakened to the groping hands and clumsy pawing of two males arguing over her. The bony creature was crouched above her and he smiled when her eyes focused. The lighting and the width of the corridor made it clear that they had carried her back to a main passage. Darsey shook her head and it cleared immediately. She felt surprisingly normal and had to search to find the faintest trace of a headache. She looked across the bony mutt’s shoulder at his companion. His bearded face was clean and his nose undamaged. They had obviously healed themselves and their victim. Darsey was grateful for the medical attention, but her stomach tightened at the attention she was receiving now.

  The hairy alien pulled his chortling friend back from a close examination of Darsey and pushed past him so that they were equally near. Each knelt astride one of her legs, but their gloating appreciation was interrupted by a quarrel.

  “Don’t trick’m,” the bony face spat at his companion.

  “Not tricking,” said the hairy one in a sulky tone. “You’n go first. Your’n turn, right? Just touching is all.”

  His crewmate retched and spat at his friend. He ignored Hairy’s angry protest and turned back to Darsey. He licked two bony ridges that served as lips and gripped her cheeks with his fingers and a spatulate thumb. His breath was hot against her mouth as he pursed his ridged lips thoughtfully. “Pretty eyes. Blue. Lots blue. Strange.”

  Darsey was suddenly terrified that he was going to kiss her, but her mind was drawn to new horrors as his partner reached out to tear her tunic. The laces ripped and the mutt with the bony face licked his lips again. The other simply grunted and reached toward Darsey, but his furry hand was slapped aside by the first.

  “My turn.”

  They glared at each other and Darsey quietly eased away from them. Her movement was infinitesimal as she gradually slid further from the arguing pair. She eased herself closer to the passage wall and her legs started to reappear from between two pairs of sweaty thighs. The calmer of the two turned his shaggy head to watch, but she assumed a terrified expression and he looked back to his angry colleague.

  Darsey seized the chance to free her legs completely while they were distracted. Her muscles tensed and fired before the mutt even realized that she had curled to strike. Her heels hammered into their groins and they collapsed, their solid frames crumpling around the point of impact. They hit the floor hard, to lie curled and comatose.

  “Ouch,” said a familiar voice, and Darsey’s head jerked up.

  Nightwing was leaning against the far wall, casually watching. She realized he had been spying on them and fresh anger joined fear and adrenaline to start her shaking.

  “You know,” he continued conversationally, “mutt coms carry no protective fields. Those two won’t be walking any time soon.”

  Darsey took a deep breath and ran the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to clear the foul taste left by the mutt’s touch. Nightwing pushed himself away from the wall to stroll past his injured crew and offer her a hand up, but she ignored it to rise unaided.

  “You could have helped before,” Darsey snarled, and reached to re-tie the torn laces of her tunic, but he shrugged without any remorse.

  “You found your own trouble, and I felt you could free yourself from it. I did think of warning the mutt, though.” He turned to retrace their steps and Darsey followed.

  “Damn,” she muttered, and he looked back in surprise. She was struggling to re-fasten her top, but her hands were still trembling. The knots blurred as her eyes filled with tears. She was too angry and embarrassed to look up when she heard Nightwing return.

  “I’m sorry they scared you,” he said with unexpected gentleness, and Darsey did look up in surprise.

  He shifted her hands from the tunic and her gaze dropped immediately, but Nightwing was careful not to touch her bare skin. He efficiently re-laced her top and tied a skilful series of knots.

  “You’ve done that before,” whispered Darsey, looking up again and trying to smile.

  “No,” he admitted with an answering grin. “It’s most often the reverse.” He started to say more, but cut off the comment and turned on a heel. He took off immediately to stride down the corridor, his boots thudding hard in another abrupt change of mood.

  Darsey gaped briefly, but then hurried after his receding figure. She had to break into a trot to catch him and wondered what she had done wrong this time.

  “Why are you so mad?” she demanded as she drew alongside.

  Nightwing’s jaw jutted and he snorted upwards, disturbing the dark wave of hair that swept over his brow.

  “I’ve known enough pain today to last for many shifts and yet you manage to make it worse. I don’t know why the drak I changed my mind and came for you, because sadly, I was too late. It could be impossible to protect you now. Mutt may speak slowly, but they do speak. When talk of a beautiful female reaches Greon, he’ll want to examine you. Regaining his attention was stupid.” He lengthened his stride, but she paced him.

  The alien’s tawny eyes flashed, but Darsey refused to give ground and squeezed close to brush his shoulder as the corridor narrowed. “How?” she demanded. “How have I changed things? What will Greon do? I need information. I thought I was repulsively ugly to all civilised beings.”

  “In my cabin,” he growled, and she nodded.

  They were now moving too fast for easy conversation and Darsey recognised the series of rapid turns they made from her memory of the console map. She and Nightwing hurtled through the door to his quarters together. Darsey had to stop to get her breath back and, before she could question Nightwing, he raised a commanding hand. “Warm my bed,” he ordered and started to strip.

  Darsey heard the soft hum of a cleansing field powering up in response to his unspoken instructions.

  “We need to talk and you owe me some answers. For both our sakes, Nightwing. How can I stop doing stupid things if I don’t know why they’re dumb? I don’t understand the rules in this place, much less what’s going on in your head. You tell me I’m not a slave, but then you expect me to live and act like one. So what does that actually make me? Nightwing?”

  However, the kres ignored her furious demands and continued to tear at his clothes.

  “Please? Nightwing?”

  Darsey stood there unanswered and helpless as Nightwing ignored her. He continued to undress and she was reduced to trying to shame him with her expression. He refused to meet her gaze and left her fuming impotently as he entered the blutions. She listened to the soothing hum of the field compressing the dirt from Nightwing’s body in disbelief. She desperately wanted to feel clean herself and to scour away all memory of the mutt. Nightwin
g’s selfishness enraged her and she clambered into bed cursing him. She left her boots on and scuffed them against the sheets on his side. She thumped Nightwing’s pillow, before rolling as far from his side of the bed as possible. She hoped that it was cold and dirty when he reached it. She sat scrunched against the wall, with her knees tucked up to her chin, and waited for her turn cleansing. She amused herself devising fitting ends for Nightwing that also consigned Pertwing to a scrap heap. When Nightwing finally emerged from the blutions looking fresh and relaxed, she twisted her face into what she hoped was a venomous scowl.

  “You can cleanse now,” he stated and, to Darsey, the comment sounded more like an order than an offer.

  “Perhaps I don’t want to,” she answered between clenched teeth, but he simply yawned.

  He pulled back the cover, which to Darsey’s disappointment looked perfectly clean and collapsed beneath it.

  “Good sleep, Darsey,” he murmured, and rolled away from her immediately.

  She glared at his back and then realized that the expression was completely wasted. He was breathing deeply and already seemed to be asleep.

  I hate you, she thought desperately, and I hate this place and I hope you have nightmares and never sleep again. Why didn’t you help me? She shut her eyes as hard as she could, but was unable to shut out a last, plaintive question. Why did I think you would?

  12

  Deadly Pact

  Nightwing’s home planet was called Kresynt and it orbited a white star at the heart of kres space. It was named for its six satellites, and at least one moon was always visible, night and day. Glacial ice covered much of the planet and the only liquid water was near the equator. A continent straddled much of that balmy zone, circling Kresynt like a girdle, and its fertile land could be clearly seen from space. It was a vivid tapestry of fawn and green, broken occasionally by the white streaks of mountain ranges and the gold of beaches.