Willa's Way

by Reagan Woods

  “When you entered the Corian Galaxy, you became part of Tiron’s holdings, the part of his inheritance that he oversees and controls,” he continued.

  “I became property?” Willa asked, aghast.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “As you are a living being, he assigned me as your caretaker. However, it is, technically, within my mother’s power to redistribute the wealth of the House of Rion.”

  “Lovely,” she said through clenched teeth. “Is there anything I can do to prevent this ‘redistribution’?”

  “Don’t give her cause,” he advised. “Stay in your rooms, do as I ask and as she says.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Willa rubbed her eyes tiredly.

  She thought Giaon wanted to say more, but he obviously thought better of it. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said softly, finally making his exit.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Scarfing down her delicious meal of savory panna, a first for her, and a red-leaf salad, Willa confronted her next problem. She had only the clothes on her back and didn’t see a laundry refresher anywhere. Shrugging in resignation, she carried the cover from the sleeping platform into the bathing room.

  She would have loved a soak in the tub to soothe her hip, but she was too exhausted to stay awake. Her sleep aboard the supply ship had been fitful, and Willa knew she was at her limit. It would have to be a quick shower for her tonight. Tomorrow, she would take a long, luxurious bath, something she hadn’t done since, well, ever.

  Wrapping the blanket around her like a toga, she stopped short when she encountered Liania looking bored, sitting in one of the large, dove gray armchairs.

  “I didn’t hear you knock,” Willa said, startled.

  “This is my home, I shall go where I choose,” Liania parried in wintry accents.

  Whooshing out a frustrated sigh, Willa said, “If I’d known you were here, I wouldn’t have kept you waiting.”

  Tiron’s mother raised a delicate brow skeptically. Willa could see where Tiron got his disconcerting stare. Liania was scary-cold with her unblinking black eyes.

  Willa crossed the small space with as much dignity as she could rally, limping, in her bare feet and blanket ensemble, and took the armchair opposite the Corian female.

  “I did not give you leave to sit,” Liania bit out.

  “I didn’t give you permission, either,” Willa riposted calmly. “Yet here you are. Let’s just get it out in the open: you don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here. I will go when it is possible. Problem solved.”

  “I do not understand, Tiron said you would be staying indefinitely.” Liania’s smooth brow wrinkled in confusion. A long moment later, a pleased look passed over her face. “Ah, you mean to renounce his protection. A wise decision.” She nodded approvingly.

  “I most certainly do not,” Willa retorted vehemently. Having a half-Corian child inside an Earth work camp wasn’t high on her list of things to do. In fact, it wasn’t on it at all. But neither was being sold or given away by this power-tripping alien.

  “You must see that you aren’t good for him,” Liania said reasonably. “Of course, you’re attractive enough, but my son can’t breed heirs with you. Your children, if you were genetically compatible, which I sincerely doubt, would be half-breed scourge.”

  Willa bit down on her tongue. Hard. She wasn’t going to tell this female where she could stick her bigotry. That wouldn’t be prudent.

  “Look at you,” Liania continued, warming to her Willa Sucks theme. “You’re barely the size of an adolescent, you’re too weak and slow for a warrior of my son’s abilities. You’ve latched on to a high-ranking male, and now you’re using his honor to hold him.”

  Her words scored a direct hit with Willa. For the sake of her child, she would try to understand why Tiron sent her away without a word. She would try to learn Corian customs and fit in while she was here, but she would never try to keep him if he didn’t want her.

  “You have nothing to say?” Liania challenged.

  “If Tiron tells me he wants me to leave, then, of course, I will go,” Willa agreed quietly, feeling very unsure of herself.

  Was this how Corian males ended relationships, by asking their mothers to run interference? Now that she carried his half-breed baby, did he regret his decision to make love with her?

  Liania appeared inordinately satisfied with Willa’s words. “I’m glad you can see reason.” She rose and walked to the door.

  “Remember to keep out of sight. And, Willa, I know Linron is partial to a soft voice and a pretty face.” She turned back, wagging an admonishing finger. “He would have told you Beandra is our guest. If it has crossed your mind to dishonor Tiron by telling her of your…arrangement with my son, you should reconsider. I can make your life very unpleasant.” With that parting thought, she left.

  Willa stared forlornly at the cushy, gray rug wondering just what was in store for her next. She’d bounce back after a full night’s sleep, but, right now, she felt awfully alone.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  CGA Work Camp, Texas

  Eight Days Post Ventix Attack on CGA

  “Hi, Franny!” The chipper voice greeted when she pushed through the swinging doors that led into the industrial kitchen.

  “Hi, Tara. How’s it going this evening?” Fran replied, stowing her pack of carefully hoarded essentials on a shelf. The backpack was the key to her plan. Margot, her little sister, was out there somewhere. Fran just knew it. Whenever she got the chance, she would make a run for it. She was going to find Go-Go. Or die trying.

  She threw a wave across the large space to the quiet Marta who diligently chopped a heap of vegetables at a tall, steel counter.

  “Any day I’m behind the stove is a glorious day, but this shift is special. I have my two favorite sous chefs on the line tonight,” the twenty-three-year-old drawled, giving Fran a wink.

  She sputtered out a laugh, knowing Tara exaggerated for her benefit. Franny didn’t know how these girls could work so industriously in the broiling hot room, though they were almost a decade younger. The youthful women seemed to tolerate the heat and the oppressive humidity so much better. Good thing Fran had found time to braid her straight, dark hair, a blessing of her Vietnamese heritage, this morning; it was going to be a long, hot shift.

  Tara had piled her curly brown hair precariously atop her head. Per regulations, a little field generator crowned her shiny locks to prevent any stray hairs falling into the food. Tara’s short, curvaceous figure, encased in soft black durafiber clothing, was at odds with the childish, almost angelic quality her flushed olive skin and the little silver halo lent. Rather than looking like a first-rate chef, her rubenesque figure brought to mind old Hollywood at its finest.

  “Va-va-vooom.” Franny could almost hear her actor-father’s voice take on a dramatized lecherousness. He would have loved the women she’d met here. Too bad, he’d been gone for so long now.

  “Any word on Nora?” Franny asked, brushing aside the bitter-sweet thought. It looked like she’d be cooking rice and beans this evening. There was nothing like a little extra steam in the already soggy air to give the old lungs a good workout.

  Marta shook her head wordlessly, ducking her pretty head. Nora and Marta had been roommates for months. At opposite ends of the personality spectrum, the shy Marta and outgoing Nora had balanced one another.

  Nora, the brash young Latina with cajones the size of Texas, had escaped the camp a little over a week ago - without a word to Marta. Apparently, Nora had taken another young woman, someone she barely knew, with her. Wounded by her friend’s careless abandonment, the beautiful Marta had retreated further into her shell.

  “Shirok, what are you doing in my kitchen? Didn’t I tell you to stay out?”

  Fran glanced over her shoulder to see Tara hurtle a wooden spoon at the Doranos who’d popped through the swinging doors at a full charge. The huge, albino-like alien wasn’t able to dodge in time, the wood striking his forehead made an au
dible crack. He slowed his advance, but didn’t veer from his obvious intent to intercept Tara.

  “Help! Somebody help me!” Tara screamed, spinning on her feet and darting away from Shirok.

  Mouth agape, Fran watched the scene unfold. Tara zigged and zagged a random pattern across the room that would have brought a tear to the eye of footballers everywhere, whipping pots and pans off of racks and winging them at her pursuer. Shirok gave chase, reaching only to catch a face full of metal. That curvy little woman was quick. And her aim was amazing.

  Finally reacting, Fran snapped her mouth shut and ran to the panic button on the wall, giving it a hard slap.

  Another Doranos bolted into the room, completely ignoring the ruckus. He made a beeline for Marta, quickly stripping the knife from her hand, and threw her over his shoulder. Apparently, he wasn’t the cavalry.

  Strangely, Marta didn’t look panicked, but, instead, appeared resigned? as she dangled, bouncing like a rag doll, down his retreating back.

  Shirok put on a burst of speed, rounding an island counter right on Tara’s heels, but his slippered feet shot out from underneath him on the glossy floor. His head hit the deck with a sickening thwack, and Tara smacked him with a cast iron skillet on the rebound. Ouch. Maybe that would teach him to underestimate Earth girls.

  “You got this?” Fran looked Tara’s panting form over, she appeared winded but otherwise unharmed.

  “Yeah. I’ll wait here for Tall, Dark and Too Handsome to be Anything but Stupid,” Tara said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder in reference to the Corian guard, Calyx, stationed outside the mess hall.

  Grabbing her pack-o’-goodies, Fran dashed after Marta and her abductor. She’d miss Tara and the others immensely, but this was her chance to find out what happened to Go-Go. If she could free Marta, she damn sure would. After that, though, she was blowing this popsicle stand.

  Fran could hear shouts and screams coming from all directions as she streaked out of the kitchen and down the hall. Was she being opportunistic? Certainly. This chaos was the perfect cover for her absence.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Commander’s Quarters aboard the Trident

  Using the retinal controls on his hoverscreen, Tiron zoomed in on Willa’s beautiful, sleeping face. He’d tried repeatedly to com her, but they hadn’t been able to connect. She was always in the reconditioner or asleep when he was able to spare a moment away from his duties.

  Like a good Warrior, Tiron buried his pain at the loss of his close friend and cousin, Vank. He took solace in the fact that his female and their child were safe in the bosom of his family. It would have comforted him more to have Willa near, but that was selfish. A close second would be to hear her voice and share an intimate conversation with her, but that wouldn’t happen today, either.

  Willa shifted restlessly in her sleep. He knew her body sought his warmth, and the resentment that he felt at having to send her away swelled into fierce tenderness. He’d do anything to keep her safe.

  It had been eight lonely nights since he’d carried her unconscious body onto the stealth supply ship bound for Corian space. After the violence of the Ventix attack, Tiron’s only thought was to get his precious cargo away from the danger.

  Now, he spent his few off-duty hours obsessing over what Willa’s reaction had meant. She’d fainted as soon as Holly had confirmed her pregnancy. Was she simply in shock, or was it more? Did she, like Merik’s female, regret conceiving?

  Tiron needed to know her thoughts, but he didn’t know what he would do if she were unhappy. Their child was a blessing, not a mistake. In Corian society, the babe would be an outcast, but, for Tiron, it was a physical manifestation of love.

  Willa had pulled him from the bleak, lonely existence he’d been living. She was his color, his warmth, his home.

  “I will come for you when I can, you may depend upon it,” he whispered to her slumbering form.

  Reluctantly, he redirected the com signal.

  “Yes, what is it?” His brother answered, video blocked.

  “Giaon, we must speak privately.”

  “Oh, Tiron, it’s you.” Giaon’s harried face filled the screen. “I suppose this is about the Earther you’ve sent us.”

  “It is,” he confirmed, trying to get a read on Giaon. Usually, he was put-together and suave. Right now, his shoulder-length hair looked as if he’d been pulling it. “No one can know Willa is there.”

  “Not to worry. Mother saw to that,” Giaon reported. He hesitated for a few moments before continuing, “There have been violent protests in every Corian city. There’s talk of calling in the Council Guard to quell the populace here and on Cor I.”

  “What has happened?” Tiron asked, alarmed.

  “Someone released a video of General Darvan’s captive Earther sending your energy field codes to the Ventix,” Giaon whispered. “Is it true that she caused the loss of the Horizon?”

  “Possibly,” Tiron replied, unsure of how much he should say.

  Darvan believed his captive was collateral damage in the Doranos Attaché, Jorkan’s, nefarious plot. Arianna, Darvan’s captive, suffered massive brain trauma as a result of the attack. While her injuries didn’t clear the Earth female of guilt, they lent credibility to the General’s theory.

  “I’ve heard reports that anti-Earther sentiments are running rampant through Doranos space as well,” Giaon relayed with a frustrated shake of his head.

  Soryan’s voice spoke into Tiron’s ear com, “Commander, there has been a raid on one of the Earth camps. You’re needed on the bridge.”

  Tiron pressed the button embedded in his skull, “Acknowledged.” Then to Giaon he said, “I must go, I’ll be in touch. Keep Willa safe. She is everything to me.”

  “We will keep her as safe as possible.”

  Tiron ended the communication. It seemed that chaos abounded in the CGA controlled territories. The warriors with Claimed females needed a safe place to send their charges, especially the expecting ones. They’d have to figure something out and do it quickly.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  House of Rion, Cor II

  “Giaon visits you often after last meal,” Linron commented, coolly firing his blaster at the low-flying Kawa Bird intent on eating the townsfolk.

  “He’s checked in every day, same as you.” Willa took her own shot at the winged, needle-toothed lizard with bright blue feathers. She wasn’t a fan of the battle sims that Linron loved so much, but they’d found a common bond in their shared hatred of bad-tempered, cold-blooded creatures.

  “Last evening, Beandra expressed her desire for my parents to declare Giaon their heir so she might pursue a contract with him.” Linron smirked, dodging a giant, red-tipped talon that scored the lip of the stone ravine in which they hid. “She makes him very uncomfortable.

  “I’m sure your parents will do the right thing.” Willa already knew the information Linron imparted. Somehow, she’d become Giaon’s confidante, her apartment his refuge over the last ten days, or rotations as the Corians referred to them. It was rather disconcerting, she was a Claimed Female, after all.

  “He says he wants an Earther like you,” Linron snickered. “Have you woven a spell around him?”

  “You’re real funny, kid.” Linron was like the little brother she’d never had. He enjoyed stirring Giaon’s ire by smuggling Willa to the holoroom for a few hours each day.

  Ducking for cover from the stream of toxic gas the beast released from its mouth, she squeaked, “How many shots can these damned things take?”

  “Almost everything bounces off of the Kawa,” Linron responded admiringly. “Their natural armor is resistant to most weapons.”

  Initially, Willa had been hesitant to leave her assigned space but Linron insisted that Tiron wouldn’t want her to sit around bored all day. Thinking along the same lines, Giaon had procured a reconditioner so that she might continue her education during her long stretches of time alone. She was grateful for the distraction, it kept her fr
om brooding over the fact that Tiron still hadn’t contacted her.

  “I bet an EMP would knock it out of the air,” Willa speculated, studying the list of weapons available to her as the monster streaked, screaming through the sky.

  On Earth, lightning interrupted birds’ ability to fly because it temporarily confused their natural compass. Some manmade weapons had the same devastating effect. Surviving the war on Earth had taught her that much.

  “What’s an ee em pee?”

  “An electromagnetic pulse,” Willa said, unsure how else to explain it.

  Linron sent her a puzzled look. He clearly enjoyed having a playmate as determined to win as she was, but he hadn’t yet learned to trust her instinct for survival.

  The creature made a sharp turn and swooped towards them once again. “Long story short: it emits a pulse of energy that interferes with electrical systems.”

  “Sounds quite primitive.”

  “Primitive against your technology, yes,” she was shouting to be heard over the wind generated by the great beast’s wings. “But against flying creatures that likely rely on magnetic energy to navigate…” They fired at the same time, diving in different directions to avoid the incredibly angry bird-thing. “It can’t hurt to try, we’re getting our asses handed to us.”

  “Agreed.” Linron nodded, scrolling furiously through his virtual weapons cache until he came to a small box with a funnel protruding from the top. “We have enrays, an outdated tool like the one you’ve described, in our standard arsenal.”

  Mimicking his actions, Willa found her own enray and powered it up. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered, discharging the pulse towards the menacing bird.

  The Kawa began flying about drunkenly like a kite caught in a tornadic wind. As the gigantic carcass spun wildly over the little village, it clipped a wing on a stone hut. Skidding and bouncing in forceful spirals, it reminded Willa of a runaway bowling ball scattering buildings like pins – make that a runaway bowling ball headed straight for their hiding spot.