Dark Space- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  Atton scowled, and what he said next came through gritted teeth. “She’s chipped, Ithicus. You can’t take her to your quarters, or anywhere. She isn’t who she thinks she is.”

  Alara stepped between the two men before Ithicus could even reply, and she jabbed a finger in Adan’s chest. “You know what, he’s right. Frek you! Why don’t you just frek off and mind your own business?”

  Atton blinked, startled by her outburst. “Alara . . .” he began, but she was already turning away.

  “Come on, Ithy, let’s go. I have some ideas about how we can relax.”

  Atton winced at the implication of her words, but he didn’t try to follow them this time. He just watched helplessly as Ithicus led Alara to the lift tubes and his quarters waiting below decks. He would use her roughly, and she was going to let him—even encourage him.

  One of the lift tubes opened just before Ithicus and Alara reached them, and out stepped a pair of guards, holding their rifles at the ready, followed by the overlord.

  “Good evening,” Ethan greeted as they approached. The guards stepped forward and seized Alara by the arms.

  She kicked one of them in the chins, but her foot bounced off his armor, and she yelped. “Frek you! Let me go!” she said.

  Ithicus’s gaze found the overlord’s and he gave a sloppy salute. “Sir,” he said, swaying on his feet.

  “At ease, Commander,” Ethan replied. “I’m afraid your date is out past her curfew, and we’re going to have to return her to her parents now.”

  Ithicus frowned, but he nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”

  Ethan turned to watch as his guards dragged Alara kicking and screaming toward the lift. “One more thing.”

  “Sir?”

  “Did you know that prostitution is illegal in the Imperium, and that soliciting carries a two to five year sentence?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “You didn’t know she was chipped. That’s fair, this is just your first warning. I assume I won’t need to issue another one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good night, gentlemen.”

  With that, Ethan turned to leave and he followed Alara and his guards into the lift.

  Atton watched the lift drop away, and then he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully his father’s warning would keep Ithicus in check, but Ethan would have to issue a similar warning to every man on the ship if he was going to keep Alara safe.

  Ithicus caught Atton’s eye and jerked his chin. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

  Atton shrugged. “I told you she was chipped.”

  “Frek you, Adan.” Ithicus turned and continued on toward the lifts.

  Atton frowned and shook his head. “I’m going to dismiss that insubordinate remark as the alcohol talking. Go sleep it off!”

  Ithicus gave no reply as he stepped into the next lift tube and rode it down to the flight deck. Atton shook his head. “Dumb brute.”

  He felt a hand land on his shoulder, and turned to see Aurora standing behind him. “Next time you’re here, your drinks are on me.”

  Atton smiled. “Thanks. You sure I can’t buy you one now?”

  She shook her head. “I think we’d both better hit the rack.”

  Atton nodded. “Rain check then.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Atton laughed and made his own way to the lifts. Turning and walking backward, Atton said, “You’re almost twice my age, Aurora.”

  “Which means I have twice the experience.” Her amber eyes glittered as she smiled at him. “Think about that.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “No, in yours,” she said, winking at him.

  The lift returned and Atton walked inside. He punched the crew deck and the lift dropped swiftly away before their banter could turn serious. He smirked to himself and shook his head. Sometimes a forward woman could be very sexy. Then his thoughts turned to Alara, and his smirk turned to a frown. Sometimes.

  He hoped that Ethan found a way to reign her in.

  * * *

  Ethan took Alara back to his quarters instead of her parents’ so they could talk. He left the guards posted outside his door. She noticed that and shot him a lurid smile as they walked inside. Ethan locked the door behind them with a frown. She had obviously misunderstood his intentions.

  “Mmmm, now I get it,” she purred, coming up behind him and touching his arm gently as she whispered in his ear, “You just wanted me for yourself.”

  Ethan turned to her with a grimace. “Alara, that’s not—”

  She was backing away, her hands already popping the buttons on her blouse. She shrugged the blouse off and it fluttered to the floor.

  “Alara, put that back on.”

  She giggled as she began working on her pants, her hips swaying to a silent melody. “Make me.”

  Ethan started after her as her pants fell off and she kicked them away. She was backing toward his bed, leading him there. She unclipped her bra to reveal two perfectly rounded breasts just as she stepped into the leafy shadows cast by the ferns growing up along the dividing privacy wall between Ethan’s living area and his bedroom. Ethan felt an answering stir inside of him, but fought to push it away as he followed Alara to the bed.

  Now she worked her panties off, one corner at a time, teasing him with partial glimpses before sliding them slowly down her thighs and legs to bare all. Ethan stopped before entering the bedroom, and now he looked away, holding one hand over his eyes and another up between him and Alara in a vain attempt to preserve her modesty.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding hurt. “Am I not pretty enough for you? You don’t want to look at me?”

  “Alara, it’s not that, it’s—”

  “My name’s Angel, she interrupted, and then she walked up to him and grabbed his hand—

  And placed it there. Ethan flinched as he felt something warm and wet graze his palm. He opened his eyes to see where she’d placed his hand, and he recoiled from her. “Alara!”

  “Frek me!” she said, her violet eyes wild as she pulled him close and kissed him firmly on the lips. She forced her tongue past his clenched teeth, and he gave her a rough shove away from him. Alara tumbled to the floor with a yelp of surprise and pain. She sat looking up at him with genuine hurt now.

  “I—frek, I’m sorry, Alara. He held out a hand to help her up, but she slapped it away and pushed herself off the floor.”

  “Hoi, if you like men, you could have just told me instead of wasting my time by bringing me here. I don’t know why you bothered.” She went to pick up her panties, and Ethan found himself watching as she bent down. He shook his head and looked away again as she pulled her underwear back on. He absently felt for his wedding band to give himself strength, but it wasn’t there. He’d taken it off long ago to avoid giving himself away. The overlord wasn’t married, after all.

  Alara brushed past him into the living room to hunt for the rest of her clothes. She pulled on her pants and then snatched up her bra and blouse. “Good night old man,” she said with a smirk. She was now almost to the door. “You’d probably better see a medic about that prostate before it explodes.”

  “Alara!” Ethan said, taking a deep breath to still his racing heart.

  “What?” she looked up at him with hard, angry eyes.

  His lips twisted in a miserable frown. “I love you, Kiddie.”

  Suddenly, she stopped buttoning her blouse and her expression went from angry to shocked. Then her eyes began to glisten with moisture in the low, night-cycle lighting of his quarters. “You what?” Her breath hitched in her chest.

  “I love you,” he repeated, now walking toward her. “That’s why I’m not going to do what you want.” He reached her side in a few short strides and led her gently by the hand to the nearest couch in his living room. She sank into it gratefully, her eyes wide and blinking as she stared at the opposite wall. A solitary tear slid slowly down her left cheek.

  “You’re not well,” he said, holding
her hand in his lap as he sat down beside her.

  Alara slowly turned her head to him and he wiped away that trickling tear. She began to shiver.

  He noticed and placed his hand against her forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “You called me Kiddie.”

  Ethan saw the spark of recognition in her violet eyes and his own eyes grew wide. “Well, to me everyone’s a kid, so—”

  “Don’t do that to me.” Alara frowned and shook her head. “Everyone’s been telling me I’m not who I think I am, and that what I remember isn’t real, but this is real, isn’t it? Are you him? Am I remembering you from my childhood? When you were younger?” She searched his eyes, but then that spark of recognition and hope he’d seen abruptly died, and she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your eyes are the wrong color. They’re blue, not green.”

  “Oh . . . well, there’s not much I can do about that, I’m afraid.”

  Alara gave him a broken smile. “I suppose not.” She withdrew her hand from his and clasped it together with her other one, as if she were about to pray. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, staring down at her hands, “To be caught between two realities and two different lives and to wonder which one of them is really yours.”

  Ethan rubbed her back gently and said, “I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at him. “Do you ever wonder who you really are? Do you have to listen to people telling you all day that the way you are, the things you want, what you say, and even how you act—that all of it is wrong? They tell you that you need to do a better job . . . to resist yourself, but even when you try, it’s not real. It’s just an act. You’re just doing what they want to make them happy. It has nothing to do with you.”

  Ethan shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that’s like.”

  “Then you can’t know how I feel.”

  “Perhaps not, but I think I know someone who might.”

  Alara’s eyebrows went up.

  “I believe you’ve met Captain Adan Reese, the new XO of the Defiant?” She hesitated, then nodded slowly, and Ethan went on, “You should talk to him. Make a friend. I have a feeling he’s looking for one, too.”

  Alara smiled half-heartedly. “I’m not good at making friends. I’ve never had to be.”

  Ethan shrugged. “Neither is he. Same reason.” He patted her on the back and rose from the couch, offering his hand to help her up. She took it, but her eyes were wary.

  “You can sleep here tonight, if you don’t want to go back to your parents’ quarters yet,” Ethan said.

  She cocked her head. “Reconsidering your decision not to sleep with me?”

  “No. I’ll stay here on the couch.” He waved a hand at the dividing half wall between the living area and the bedroom, and said, “Privacy screen on.”

  Suddenly the bedroom was cut off by a holofield of trees rising up behind the short wall of real ferns. The walkway between living room and bedroom had become a slightly-curving tunnel of greenery, the entrance all but blocked by a hanging veil of red and yellow blossoms.

  “Thank you,” Alara said, turning to him with a smile. She kissed him on the cheek and started toward the blossom-crowded path. “If you change your mind . . .”

  “I won’t.”

  She sent him a playful wink and then walked through the projected veil of flowers.

  Ethan let out a long sigh. “Hardest thing I ever . . .” He muttered and shook his head. He’d grown used to rejecting women’s advances over the years, and Alara had given him regular practice in the past—although she’d never been that pushy about it, nor that good at using her assets to change his mind.

  He hadn’t lied to her. He did love her, and maybe with enough time he could even be persuaded to love her romantically, but one thing stopped him: he loved Destra far more, and where before he’d only had his memories of her to keep him chaste, he now had something far more compelling.

  Hope.

  Atton had told him that Destra Ortane had been alive when she’d sent him away with his great uncle Reichland, which meant there was a chance she might still be alive. And as long as there was even a chance, he had to keep looking for her. He had to wait. He’d wait until his dying breath if that was what it took.

  Chapter 10

  —THE YEAR 0 AE—

  Night was the most trying time of all, when all their nerves were frayed and the shadows seemed to take on ghoulish form. Night was when the Sythians came out to hunt.

  Destra sat huddled on the living room couch with Lessie and her son Dean, their eyes glued to the holoscreen opposite the couch, watching the night vision security feeds which were coming in from cameras scattered around the forest above Digger’s hideout. Each camera slowly panned left to right and back again, giving a comprehensive view of their surroundings.

  “You’re not going to see anything,” Digger said, calling from the kitchen. Destra turned to meet his gaze, but he was busy preparing himself a sandwich with the last two slices of bread. After a moment, he caught her staring at him and he looked up with a shrug. “The best we can do is listen for them.” He took a giant bite of his sandwich and then made a gesture at the holoscreen. Destra turned to see the volume rapidly increasing from 0 to 100. They heard a soft fuzz of static and the sound of wind roaring and whistling through the trees.

  Destra turned back to Digger. “How are we supposed to listen for anything through all that background noise?”

  “You’re not. I have a program automatically analyzing the feed for specific sound profiles—anything which doesn’t fit the usual background noise of the forest. Like footsteps.” Digger took another bite of his sandwich and waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, it’s one thing for the skullies to traipse by us. It’s a whole ‘nother thing for them to find us down here.”

  Destra’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think they have detectors? That they’ll detect radiation leakage from your generator, for example?”

  “Hey, what do you take me for, a total stim-bake?” Destra frowned at that. She’d caught him shooting up in the bathroom soon after they’d arrived. He’d claimed the stims he used were not addictive, with no side effects, but Destra didn’t want to know about it—stimmers all had the same excuses. “Patrollers have been lookin’ for me for years,” Digger went on. “I’m so deep underground and so heavily-shielded in here that they must have walked right by me half a dozen times.” Digger waved a hand at the screen, “Besides, I don’t see the skullies walkin’ around with any kind of tech. They’re just hunting for the next meal—one of us, that is.”

  Lessie clapped her hands over Dean’s ears. “Could you not talk about that while we’re here, please? Dean has enough trouble sleeping without you reminding us what’s out there.”

  “Hoi, sorry,” Digger drawled with his mouth full of sandwich. “Jus tryin’ to keep it real, ya know?”

  “Well, don’t.”

  “Speakin’ of what’s out there. Which one of you’s going to do the first scavenger hunt?”

  Destra turned to Digger with a frown. “The first what?”

  “You know, comb around for food and supplies . . . we won’t last long in here without that.”

  “You and I can go first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Ha! Ha, ha!” Digger lowered his sandwich and smiled meaningfully at Destra.

  She found herself distracted by a small green piece of salad caught in a smear of mustard at the corner of his mouth. “What?” she asked.

  “I’m providing the digs here, so I think it’s only fair you be the runners.”

  “You’re joking.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask the kid to go. He can stay here with me.”

  Now Lessie turned to join the conversation. “You can’t be serious.”

  Digger shrugged. “Fine, take him with. I don’t care.”

  “No, I mean about sending us out there—with those things.” Le
ssie appeared to shiver even at the thought of the aliens running around on the surface.

  “Someone’s got to go.”

  “How about you?” Destra asked, jerking her chin to him. “We can send Digger The Brave.”

  “Watch your pretty mouth.” Digger scowled. “You’re going, and I’m staying, and that’s the end of it. If either of you has something else to say about it, you can tell it to Doc and Petra.”

  Destra felt her ire rising at the mention of Digger’s pet rictans. They were both chipped, so they weren’t a danger to anyone unless Digger wanted them to be, but one of them could kill just as efficiently as a Sythian, and Destra was quietly furious that Digger let them roam around freely at night. As if it isn’t hard enough to sleep already.

  “I have weapons and armor for the two of you, so you should be fine out there.”

  Destra was about to reply when the sound of the wind whistling and rustling through the trees overhead was broken by a piercing scream. All eyes turned to the cameras, and this time they saw something. A warning tone issued from the sound system and a computerized voice said, “Warning, threat detected.”

  “Oh no, oh no—” Lessie said, trying to cover Dean’s eyes and ears at the same time. “Switch it off!”

  Dean began to cry.

  Destra watched with horrified fascination as one of the cameras automatically panned and zoomed in on the sight. A small group of people were running through the trees. One of the women in that group was screaming at the top of her lungs with the others hissing at her to shut up.

  “We have to do something!” Destra said, turning back to Digger.

  He just shook his head. “We can’t.”

  “You said you have weapons!”

  “For us, not for them.”

  “Digger!”

  Another scream came from the cameras, and there was a loud ruckus of shouting, followed by the sound of ripper rifles opening up. They all watched in horror as one by one the group of people was knocked to the ground and set upon by invisible beasts, their guns all firing in random directions as they were struck down. Destra looked away as the scene turned bloody. “Switch it off, Digger!”