Striker

by Charmaine Ross

  There was happiness in the bonds in that team – all men. Laughter between the blood of battles. It helped ease the clawing desperation that clawed like acid inside. There was never sex with these men. That was a line she didn’t cross. She didn’t want to lose them. They were family. They were everything. The fighting on Earth continued, and they were sent on another mission. Somewhere hot and dry and dusty and desolate.

  He found himself in a long, dark hallway. In front of him was a door, padlocked with many old-fashioned locks of various sizes. Heavy metal chains and barbed wire entwined the locks and barricaded the door. Behind him was a light. He had to get to the light.

  He strode to the door. Chunks of wood were gouged from the door as he tore at the locks and chains. The door creaked and groaned in protest, holding firm against his onslaught. With a snarl, he ripped the last lock away with a huge slab of door and flung it open.

  The world reeled around him. Confusion. Yelling. Clawing desperation. Something went wrong, and it was her fault. Many men, screaming at her. The ends of guns jabbed into her. They took her weapons, leaving her defenceless. Her gear. Her clothing. She was beaten and thrown into a freezing cold cell naked and hurting, and they starved her. Tortured her. The days blurred. Time became meaningless.

  They yelled while they beat her. Wanted to know things. Had she come alone? Did she have a team? She did, and they were a secret. She couldn’t tell them about her team. Her family. They’d kill them if they knew where they were. She wasn’t going to say a word.

  The beating continued. She was delirious. Didn’t know if she dreamed or was awake and she talked. Told them why she’d come to this land of hate and war. There was a bomb. It had to be disarmed. It would level half a city. She was the best at infiltration, so they’d sent her in first to disarm the doors. Ambush. She was trapped.

  There was no escape for her, but if her team stayed away, they would be safe. She was glad they should leave her for dead. Glad she’d wrecked their plans before she’d been caught. It was protocol. The one solace in all this mess.

  Then her worst nightmare came true. Her team had come! All lined up in front of her. But why were they here? They should be far away and safe. She asked her tormentors, but they only laughed at her and told her she’d told them where they were hiding. As a reward, she’d be able to see them get their brains blown out.

  One of the men pointed a pistol at Dane’s head. Pressed the trigger. Her scream filled her head as his blood splattered over the wall behind him. Then it was Mike’s turn. Then Scott. Her family. Dead. Gone. Right in front of her eyes. The pain was unbearable. When the pistol turned to her, she knew she was going to die. But she deserved it.

  She’d told them where her team was.

  They’d died because she couldn't keep a secret.

  Before the trigger was pressed, there was an explosion. The wall splattered with blood disintegrated and soldiers poured inside. There was a frenzy of bullets, and then she was thrown over a shoulder and taken out of the death place.

  The man with the stern voice found her guilty. Unworthy. A failure. Guilt so thick, it became her blood circulated through her body. She knew the man was right. She’d killed the only family she had.

  Striker stood, watching the carnage of her life from that event unfold. Her guilt clawed at him as though it was his. He lost himself in her desolation. Anguish became her normal. Heartache made every beat of her physical heart hurt.

  The man with the stern voice rejected her fully, but ironically it was the only voice she needed to forgive.

  Bleak days turned into months until over a year passed. There were no more men. Not even for sex. She didn’t seek comfort of any sort. It was undeserved. She resumed her duties as a way of being able to think of something else, even if for a few moments. Work became a reprieve. She threw herself into it once again. Hours and hours and hours. Falling in bed so exhausted, she prayed she didn’t dream.

  She came across the case of the missing women. Fifty of them. Maybe more. The military was involved because they’d gone missing along the Nullarbor Plane. That stretch of wide, lonely land was witness to top secret military manoeuvres they didn’t want anyone to know about.

  She’d gone to try and work out what had happened to them. Maybe if she found them – even one – she might ease her guilt. She’d stood in the middle of that wild and lonely land and prayed for help. Prayed she would save someone. Prayed she’d be forgiven. Prayed it would all end. When she saw a light descend, she’d been transfixed. Thought – ludicrously – that her prayers had been answered. But rather than an all-forgiving angel to take her pain away – the devil had come instead in the form of a giant Reptile.

  Now she’d never find those women and her sins would never be forgiven.

  Another reel of memories started. These, he was familiar with. Waking to another world, confused and doubting her sanity. He saw himself, but as she saw him. Huge. A little cocky. Fascinating. Long-dead desire stoked taking her by surprise. The heavy weight of responsibility to find these women.

  He was either an obstacle or someone who could help. She didn’t know for sure. He didn’t blame her response given the flippant way he’d first treated her. If only he’d known what she’d been through. But how would he have known?

  You could have asked her. Spoken to her. With her.

  He closed his eyes as her emotions crashed through him when they’d made love. Desire morphed into confusion as she acted out in such a primal, raw manner. Arousal beyond her experience. The inability to stop herself. The Callisteans at play – something they would answer to if he ever got out of this alive. The release unlike none other she’d known. She liked him, he was pleased to feel. Could almost feel, in that heightened, unrestrained state, that this could be more.

  Then her crash after their lovemaking.

  A feeling of all-consuming inadequacy reared its ugly head. The need to run that itched beneath her skin. The absolute certainty she’d done something wrong, that she’d only end up hurting him.

  Was that how she actually felt? How she saw herself? As a worthless piece of rubbish no one would take a second look at?

  Wrong. So wrong.

  Striker fell to his knees as her despair washed over him. Fisted his hands and ground them on the floor. The wash of her emotions was overpowering. He had to wonder if this was the way she felt all the time? He didn’t know what was more horrifying – that this was her normal, or that the stern man, whoever he was, the absolute arsehole he was, could be so heartless as to let her think it was true?

  She wasn’t guilty of anything. She wasn’t the horrible person she thought she was. She just didn’t see it. Guilt clouded her perspective. Made her see and think things that weren’t reality. He just wanted to gather her his arms, soothe her, tell her she did well under impossible circumstances, better than he could ever have done. A brave woman such her as should be honoured, not left to feel like a failure.

  If only he might tell her that. Let her see herself how he saw her. Even if the worst happened and they both died, she should know this one thing. He tipped his head back and did something he hadn’t done in a long time - prayed.

  “Gods, let me see her. Please. She needs to see the truth.”

  The scene of their tangled limbs disintegrated. There was a figure curled around itself, huddled in the middle of a beam of weak light. Surrounding them was the thickest darkness he’d ever witnessed. It wasn’t like looking out of his portal when he noted the space between the stars, as great as it was.

  The darkness here was the absence of – everything. Light. Sound. Smell. An all-pervading sense of hopelessness slid around his shoulders like a cloak.

  The only colour was the warm tones of honey skin and blonde sun-streaked hair.

  Vivien!

  He bolted towards her, his footfalls sounding dull and dead, and slid to a halt just on the other side of the spotlight. He couldn’t get to her. There was an invisible barrier between them.
r />   “Vivien!” he yelled.

  His voice sounded dull, as though the darkness ate his voice. He called again. And again. Again. He called until his throat tightened with the effort. He punched the barrier. Slammed fists, knees, heels. Nothing he did penetrated through the barrier. She remained huddled on the ground, still and silent. She didn’t even know he was here.

  “Vivien! Open your eyes. See me!”

  After who knew how long, he slid to the ground, his back against the light, using it as a backrest, looking through the impenetrable darkness.

  Despair. That same black, unending despair Vivien existed with gathered around his shoulders. Sank into his skin and took residence in his heart. He peered at her for a long, interminable time. She didn’t stir a muscle.

  The Callisteans would end her energy if he couldn’t get to her. Time had to be running out. He closed his eyes. Tilted his head back against the solid tunnel of light and did something he’d never done before. Opened his soul.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A steady rumbling brought her back to her senses. Not the sort of heavy-machine rumbling that could shake a building with those low, vibrating tones. It was a warm tone that rippled through her like a sigh. The rumble undulated with different tones. Meandering and slightly lilting.

  She allowed the drifting tones to surface, drifting through the shadows of sleep. She didn’t want to wake up fully. To do that would be to come face to face with that infinite darkness that lurked with evil intent and malice, reeking of that creature that had somehow devoured her.

  She couldn't put her finger on it, but the darkness was evil. Brimming with it. She’d do anything she could not to have to be fully conscious for that again.

  Besides, listening to the rumble was far better than the sound of nothing but her own breathing and paralyzing fear. If the rumble was a dream, she was staying here. She relaxed again and let sleep hide her. Here, she could dream of Striker, that big, golden man-alien with the body of an ancient god. That was much better than being subject to just any old dream.

  She was an arm girl, and boy, did he ever have arms. Long, wide arms, biceps bulging with muscle. Smooth forearms, strong enough to take on any burden. Hands with long, lean fingers that wrung that orgasm from her. That orgasm should go down in history. That orgasm that had taken her completely by surprise.

  She didn’t think she’d experience any orgasm again. Or sex. She’d sworn off it after…

  She stopped that line of thought. It wouldn’t get her anywhere or change those events.

  Wouldn't change the fact that she’d lost everything.

  Think of Striker again. The only positive thing that had happened to her in… well, her life, if she was totally honest.

  And it only had taken the destruction of her entire world and how she conceived of the universe. Aliens. Planets. The existence of other species, that wasn’t just the bacteria scientists on Earth spent decades searching for. She could definitely tell them now they should extend their focus a little larger. Those Reptiles, they were pretty hard to miss.

  She shuddered. Maybe it was better those scientists were looking for bacteria. Less trauma.

  Striker, think of Striker.

  She liked his arms. And chest. Abs. Maybe aliens didn’t get fat like humans. Their bodies changed over generations, or maybe they’d come up with a scientific method of stopping any sort of fat build up. They obviously had some serious technology if that Starjet was anything to go by.

  She liked his body. Liked the way he stood a head taller than her. That didn’t happen often to a woman nearly six feet tall herself. Made her feel feminine. Such a laugh since she went out of her way every day not to give in to that side of her, but damned if she didn’t like it when she’d been cradled in his arms.

  Despite the freaky way she’d ignited and combusted when they’d made love, it hadn’t been a total surprise. She had wanted him. Had already desired him. She was just surprised she’d acted on it. She thought that part of her had died with her team. And it had. Until recently.

  And now – now that she was trapped wherever the hell this was – she couldn’t regret it. Would let him do those things to her again. And again.

  She could imagine it now. How he’d hold her. Gentle at first, then hard and firm when it mattered, building her up and up until she shattered.

  It was more than just the physical, although that had been there ever since she’d clocked him on the back of his head – poor guy. He hadn’t known what he’d been in for, she snickered, but that was a side point.

  What had really caused her to sit up and pay attention was the way in which he looked at her. When she’d caught him staring at her. She could see the confusion in his expression. That, she could understand. They were in a situation where anything sexual usually shut down. But it hadn’t. Not for either of them.

  There not only had been a primal, sexual interest she that recognized from men around the world, but there had been more. There had been caring. Tenderness. Interest in her as a person, beyond the urge to merely fuck. Although she didn’t have a whole lot of experience with tenderness like that, she’d seen it in those deep, glowing eyes of his. She wondered if he knew how expressive they actually were.

  How much she’d craved a look like that directed her way. Ever since she was a little girl. How hard she’d worked for it.

  “...then I signed up for the Starlight. I know you’d understand this, but I had to get away from the war. The constant fighting. Going to battle and wondering who would come back with you...” The rumbling became a voice. Striker’s voice! She surfaced through more layers of sleep to listen.

  “...we've been fighting the Reptiles for a long time. For decades, we’ve seen planet after planet succumb to them...” She didn’t know where it was coming from, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she listen.

  “… lost good friends. Too many. Been to so many battles, I’ve lost count. Seen things I can’t unsee. Things of nightmares...”

  Didn’t she know about that! Some nights she didn’t want to go to sleep because she knew what she’d be dreaming about. Drank bottle after bottle of whisky to stop her thinking. To get some rest before the nightmares invaded.

  “...don’t know why the Reptiles managed to invade any planet. As a species, they’ve never shown much progression for centuries. There’s was a world of in-fighting and tribes. No technology. Then all of a sudden, they changed. In a short time, they invaded every planet in their galaxy. Then moved on to the next before anyone knew what was happening. Planets banded together, formed a central army, and all the while they kept invading while we got our arses together.

  “Then they invaded my planet...”

  Vivien sucked in a long breath, filled with horror. She hadn’t known that. But of course he had to have a history to be what he was. To do what he did.

  “...managed to hold them off, but just. There were lots of casualties. More than two-thirds of the planet was – still is – mind-enslaved...” She heard the strain in his voice. Understood it right to the depths of her soul.

  “...my family included. Mother. Father. Brothers. Cousins. We care for them. Keep them alive in the hope that we can free them. But it’s getting hard. No one from any of the banded planets can work out how they’re doing it. But it gets to you. The not knowing. The constant battle. That’s why I signed up for the Starlight. We can protect a planet. Stop it from being targeted. Much better than fighting to stop an invasion. Those poor bastards. Fighting. Dying….”

  She knew about battles. The dying. She slammed the thought away, letting Striker’s voice centre her.

  “...what better could I ask for? Five years onboard a vessel to babysit a peaceful planet. Some didn’t want to go. They thought it would be boring, but I jumped at the chance. A vacation! I like your planet. I like your way of life – in your peace zones, of course...”

  She liked life in the peaceful countries as well. She was so sick of the fighting. The
constant striving to try to make a difference. The knowing that nothing she did would ever end the fighting at all.

  There would always be those who wanted to fight. The human race seemed just like the Reptiles in many ways. Tribal. In-fighting. In the history of humankind, there always had been one war or other. Always some faction – religious or geographical - that wanted to change the world, make people live their lives the way someone else wanted them to live it. And there would always need to be people to fight for the freedom they selfishly wanted to take away.

  She was so, so tired. Bone tired. Soul-tired.

  “...I actually applied to Command, but Jo’Aquin, that bastard, got in by a hair. Only released Command to me when he met Lauren, and he didn’t want to leave her side. Not that I mind. I’m glad he found someone to love….” His voice caught. He sounded so lost. So hopeless.

  She knew that feeling intimately.

  He’d had no other option but to fight out of necessity. He had to save his planet. His family. When all anyone ever wanted was to find someone to love. It was a universal truth. Something anyone deserved.

  Except for you.

  Even now, halfway across the universe, she thought of her father. She couldn’t seem to get away from him.

  When did it ever end?

  “...I always wanted to be a soldier. Thought it would be a life of adventure...”

  There’d been no option for her. Become a soldier or lose her father. As for the life of adventure, she’d endured, striven, went without – all for an illusive smile. Such a small price. One that was never paid.

  “...I didn’t understand the reality. I’d never seen anyone sick, let alone die in front of me...”

  “No one ever gets used to that,” she whispered. There was something about seeing a chest torn open on the battlefield no amount of psycho-talk could erase.

  “...to see men, your unit, your family be ripped apart and die. You never get over that...”

  That, she could understand. “You take it with you wherever you go. Your dreams. Your thoughts. It consumes you and never let’s go,” she whispered.