The Kraken Series Boxset: A Sci-fi Alien Romance Series Books 1-3 with Bonus Exclusive Short Story

by Tiffany Roberts

  “I do not know. I assume Jax must have tried, but I do not believe he found any success.”

  Aymee removed a stack of folded clothing from the chest and set it aside, reaching back into the container. Near the bottom, her fingers brushed over an unfamiliar fabric, thicker and heavier than the rest. The flashlight’s beam revealed a hexagonal pattern on the dark material. She lifted the garment out of the chest.

  It was a PDS — Personal Diving System. Though it appeared small, she knew it would fit almost anyone, regardless of size or body shape. Until Jax had brought the injured Macy to town, the only other such suit Aymee had seen was the one on display in The Watch’s small history museum.

  The suit Macy wore had no apparent seams or seals, and none of the tools in the clinic had been able to cut the material. Only through sheer luck had Aymee’s fingers brushed over the small plastic piece on the suit’s wrist, activating the holographic display that introduced her to Sam, the suit’s computer.

  He’d been frustratingly cheerful as he opened the suit’s seal, allowing Aymee to peel it off Macy’s feverish body.

  Folding the suit over one arm, Aymee glanced into the bottom of the chest, where a clear mask lay.

  “Arkon, didn’t you say the computers in these suits can connect to the computer in the Facility?”

  “They can. It allows Macy to bypass the entry codes.”

  “Do you think it could work on the doors here?” She looked up at him as he approached.

  Arkon tilted his head and smiled. Excitement gleamed in his eyes. “I think it is well worth an attempt.”

  “Then let’s do it.” She rose to her feet with the suit in one hand and the flashlight in the other.

  Bending down, Arkon plucked up another flashlight and turned it on. He ran its beam over the faded painting on the nearby wall and hesitated. “I was hoping to show you this when there was sunlight to see it by.”

  Aymee stepped closer and studied the painting. Time had faded its colors, and the paint had peeled, chipped, and flaked away in many places, but she could still make out the people it depicted.

  “Even though I know more about how it must have been created than ever before, I find it no less amazing. I puzzled over it for days after Jax first showed it to me. And when I finally met a human and asked how it had been made, she told me she knew someone who could do this.” He turned his head and looked at her. “But this, despite its scale, is nothing compared to what you can do. Even when it was fresh and undamaged, I doubt it would have compared.”

  A spark of pleasure lit inside her, and Aymee’s cheeks heated. She tucked the suit beneath her arm and rubbed a finger over the paint. “What were you trying to puzzle out?”

  He lifted a hand and gently touched the painting, as well. “I don’t know. How the colors were brought together. How it could look so disjointed up close, but so coherent from farther back. How it could appear alive, despite so many years of damage.”

  She glanced at him. “Think of it as...a moment in time. A single moment of motion, of feeling and expression, frozen and forever captured.” Leaning closer to the wall, she traced a fingertip over the colors; they were only blobs and smears so close, but she knew each brushstroke had been deliberate. “Everything in that moment has a shape to it, and those shapes are so familiar that sometimes you only need to imply their presence. Our minds take all those little shapes and fill in the blanks to make something whole.”

  Stepping back, she looked at Arkon fully. “It’s just like how the stones you set up on the beach for me implied motion, even though they were still.”

  His hand lingered on the wall, but he dipped his head. “So, then...it is a matter of understanding the component pieces and how they relate to each other to create something greater?”

  “Yes, and how to use them to communicate what you want to express.”

  Arkon dropped his hand and met her gaze. “What do you seek to express when you paint?”

  “Life. Beauty. Emotion.”

  He smiled. “Then you are truly successful at your craft.”

  Aymee chuckled. “We’ll paint together someday.”

  “I brought the paints and brushes you gave me. They are in one of the chests.”

  “You did?” Anticipation swept through her; she couldn’t wait to create art not just for him, but with him, and it would provide an enjoyable distraction from her worries. “Then we’ll be painting together soon. We’re likely to be stuck here for a while, right?”

  “Though I cannot deny I am eager to spend the time with you, I am sorry, Aymee.” He reached forward and took her hand in his. “These are not the circumstances under which I had wanted to share this painting with you.”

  She turned her hand to fit it over his palm, curling her fingers around his. “Don’t apologize, Arkon. I’m happy you’re here with me, whatever the circumstances.”

  He gave her hand a soft squeeze. For a moment, she thought he’d pull away, but he hesitated, maintaining his gentle grip. “We had best get to it before the hour grows much later. I imagine the chance at a relatively warm and dry spot to sleep is too good to forgo.”

  Aymee grinned. “This suit better work.”

  Chapter 13

  Arkon held Aymee’s hand as he led her up the steps to the next level and turned right. His presence made this dreary, broken down place bearable — without him, its emptiness, gloom, and dilapidation might have crushed her. She swept her light over the walls, which had been stained by water and time, and noted several small cracks. Bits of debris that had fallen from the walls and ceiling lay scattered on the floor.

  While the lower level’s edge was lined with thick mooring posts that were spanned by heavy chains in some places, the second tier had a waist-high guardrail that blended seamlessly with the railing of the two bridges. Aymee glanced over her shoulder; for a fleeting instant, she imagined some huge watercraft anchored there, its metal-and-plastic hull gleaming under long-dead lights.

  They stopped and turned toward a pitch-black corridor to their left. Aymee shined her light onto the wall over it. Like everything else here, the words were worn, but remained legible.

  AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  “Turn off your light,” Arkon said.

  They both clicked off their flashlights.

  “There is a light at the end of the hallway,” he said.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s very small. Very faint. A single point of red…”

  “Has it always been on?”

  “I do not know. I have never noticed it before.” Without releasing her hand, he moved ahead of her into the corridor, switching his light on again.

  She turned her light on and followed him.

  Though she’d seen construction like this in The Watch — at least one or two of the old concrete structures had hallways like this — there was something oppressive about this space despite it only being three or four meters deep. Perhaps it was instinctual claustrophobia, but the walls and ceiling felt too close after the relatively open area of the bay, where the ceiling was so high she’d yet to see it through the cloying shadows.

  They passed two large metal doors — one on each side, both with small keypads built into their frames — as they moved. Arkon held his light on the door at the end of the corridor. It looked like the others at first glance, but Arkon gestured to its keypad.

  “There.”

  They shifted their lights away, and she saw what he’d noticed from the other end of the hallway — a small red light on the upper corner of the keypad.

  “The other keypads are dark,” Arkon said.

  “So, this is the only one working?”

  “Maybe. It could be the only one with functioning power. This would be the spot to try, I’d guess.”

  Aymee straightened and considered the keypad, running her fingers over the flat numbers. “You said there was a keypad to enter the Facility. Did you try the code here?”

  Arkon extended a
hand and entered a sequence of numbers. The red light flashed and returned to its dull, constant glow.

  “How did Macy’s suit allow her access?”

  “She said it asked her when she drew near. Perhaps if you activate the suit, the system will recognize its location and do the same?”

  Adjusting her hold on the flashlight, Aymee felt along the suit until she found the wrist piece. She traced her fingers along its shallow grooves. Light flared from it, as intense as that cast by their flashlights, and formed into a glowing orb.

  “Hello!” The hologram pulsed as it spoke. “I am your system assistant and monitor, Sam. How may I be of service?”

  Aymee glanced at Arkon. The blue glow cast deep shadows on his cheeks, and his pupils were thin lines as he stared at the hologram.

  “Sam, can you grant us access?” Aymee asked.

  The hologram flickered and was silent for a moment. “You are standing at the IDC Personnel Entry Door. Is this what you require access to?”

  “Yes.”

  “This facility has been placed on emergency standby power.” There was a heavy click from the door. “The lock has been disengaged, but the door’s automated opening mechanism is currently inoperative. Please open manually for entry.”

  Aymee stared at the door; the excitement of discovery faded suddenly, giving over to uncertainty. This place had been abandoned for hundreds of years. What would they find on the other side of this door? If the huge room behind them felt lonely and stifling, how would the interior chambers feel?

  “Sam, can you power on the facility?”

  The hologram pulsed for several seconds. “Manual override for emergency standby power has been engaged. It will need to be released physically to restore power.”

  “How do we accomplish that, Sam?” Arkon asked.

  “The power override switch is in the control room. Turn counterclockwise to deactivate standby mode.”

  Aymee took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.

  Arkon settled a hand on her forearm, gently guiding her arm down, and moved in front of her. “I do not believe there to be anything dangerous on the other side, Aymee, but I would rather stay between you and the unknown all the same.”

  She stepped back with a nod. Arkon grasped the hand and pulled; the door groaned, and he leaned his weight to one side, muscles tensing.

  If he had to strain to open it, she would never have managed.

  Finally, metal scraped against metal, and the door slid aside. A gust of cool, clean air hit Aymee. The corridor beyond the threshold was lit by a faint red glow from above, just enough to cast everything in deep shadow.

  Arkon straightened, and they turned their flashlights forward.

  Though crafted from the same slate gray concrete as the rest of the building, the walls inside were cleaner and showed little of the wear evident in the exterior. The corridor led first to an intersection, where another hallway bisected it, and ended at a door some fifteen meters beyond that.

  She followed Arkon inside.

  He stopped at the intersection and Aymee glanced up at the red overhead lights. Though they were solid, they all seemed to flow from the ends of their respective corridors to this meeting place, from which they led to the entry door.

  She raised her flashlight to look past Arkon, down the center hall. The small sign beside the door at the end read CONTROL ROOM.

  “There,” she said.

  They moved toward it, passing more doors on either side.

  “Control room lock has been disengaged,” Sam said. Aymee started at his voice; it had been amplified by the concrete.

  Arkon grasped the handle and pulled, nearly falling into the wall — this door slid smoothly, and he’d likely put too much force into it. Arkon met her eyes when she chuckled.

  “Everything in here has been protected from the moisture and salt outside,” she said.

  “Well, it is nice to hear you laugh, even if it’s at my expense, in this case.”

  Smiling, she turned her attention to the control room. It was lit with the same dim glow as the hallways, but movement ahead caught her attention — a blinking red light. The beam of her flashlight revealed a control console, atop which the light blinked beside a handle. Both were set within a square of striped red paint.

  “That must be it!” Aymee stepped into the room, wrapped her fingers around the handle, and turned it counterclockwise.

  There was a low rumbling in the floor. Instruments flickered on along the console, and holographic projections of screens materialized in the air.

  “Primary power restored,” a female voice said from overhead.

  “That is the voice of the Computer in the Facility,” Arkon said from beside Aymee.

  The red emergency lights went out, replaced by bright white illumination an instant later. Aymee squinted against its intensity. She turned off the flashlight and placed both it and the suit atop the console.

  “Performing diagnostic scan,” the computer said. “Structural damage detected in submarine pen. Rerouting power from damaged lighting. Communications array non-operational. Submarine pen ventilation system operating at thirty-five percent efficiency. All other systems operational.”

  Aymee turned to glance behind her. “And we now have li—” She shrieked as she caught sight of something in the corner of her eye and leapt back against Arkon.

  He encircled her with his arms and turned her away, shielding her with his body. The tenseness in his muscles quickly faded.

  “It is all right, Aymee,” he said gently.

  Heart pounding, Aymee peered around him.

  A skeleton lay face up on the floor. Bones yellow with age, its empty eye sockets stared blankly at Arkon and Aymee, and its dislocated jaw hung open in an awful grin. Its uniform, though intact, was filthy, and the floor beneath it was stained dark. One of the skeleton’s arms was outstretched, fingers curled over the grip of a pistol.

  Slowly, Aymee crept from behind Arkon and walked around the skeleton, gingerly avoiding the stain — she knew it was blood, even if it wasn’t the right color anymore. By the uneven lay of the skull, she guessed the back had been shattered by an exit wound.

  “He killed himself,” she said.

  Arkon clicked off his flashlight and set it on the console beside hers. He lowered himself near the remains and reached out with a hand, delicately turning the skull to get a better look. “Is that normal for humans to do?”

  Aymee pressed her lips together and furrowed her brows. “Sometimes…”

  He lifted his gaze to her, tilting his head to the side. “Why?”

  “I mean, it isn’t normal. Self-harm is often a result of mental illness, distress, or extreme fear…” She glanced around the room before her eyes settled back on the skeleton. “Do…the kraken know of this place?”

  “Jax, Dracchus, and myself, but only the main chamber. If our people knew of it before, that knowledge was lost before I was born.” Arkon rose. “Is there... something we should do?”

  Aymee shook her head. “For now, no. We can take him to sea later...and hope there are not others.”

  “Your people give your dead to the sea, also?” Despite the morbidity of the situation, there was unmasked curiosity in his voice.

  She carefully returned to Arkon’s side. “We do. Families take their loved ones out for their final goodbyes.”

  “We do not have families in the same manner you do, but the hunters carry our dead away from the Facility to be reclaimed by the sea. It is symbolic of the cycle of life — the sea provides for us and sustains us, and in the end, it claims us all.”

  Aymee took his hand and traced a fingertip over his knuckles and down to the webbing between his fingers. “I wonder what things would be like now, had our people lived together peacefully.”

  “No one can say with any certainty.” He raised a tentacle and brushed its tip across the back of her hand. “But, selfish as it may be, I would not wish to change any of that history.”
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  Aymee tipped her head back to look up at him. “Why?”

  Arkon smoothed his palm over her hair. “Because I would not want to place the chances of us meeting in jeopardy.”

  Warmth blossomed in her chest as she stared into his otherworldly violet eyes; they were layered with color and emotion, and she wasn’t sure there were enough shades of purple to encompass their depth.

  Her hand tightened over his. Perhaps her earlier fears were unfounded; how could he say such things if he didn’t desire her? He showed it in his every gesture, his every touch, word, and glance. Whatever had happened between them that morning on the beach, there’d been good reason for his retreat. Arkon would never purposely hurt her.

  She stood her toes and placed a light kiss on his lips. “Me too.” Smiling, she released his hand and stepped back. “Let’s see what we can find on the console.”

  “Yes,” he said distractedly.

  Aymee touched the main screen. The projection presented a variety of choices; she perused them slowly, not sure what she was looking for. Maintenance, Temperature Control, Core Monitoring, Surveillance, Personnel Records. She tapped Operations Logs.

  “Please enter your access code to—” the computer said, and then the screen — and all the others around it — flickered. “Computer security systems have been rebooted. Welcome back, Captain Wright. Please create a new access code.”

  Aymee looked at Arkon.

  He leaned forward and entered a series of numbers. “Zero eight one three zero five,” he said.

  “Access code reset.” The projection displayed a series of still images, each with numbers at its bottom, arranged in neat rows — five across and five down, with an arrow at the bottom indicating more. All the images were of the same man, though the background and his clothing differed in some of them.

  “That is the same code we use to enter the Facility,” Arkon said. “I didn’t know what any of these symbols were until Macy taught me.”

  “The kraken can’t read?” Aymee asked.

  “In the beginning, I believe at least a handful knew how. But it was not a skill that was passed down through the generations.”