Cataclysm: Rystar and the LASSOs Book Three

by Jack Archer

  Cataclysm

  Rystar and the LASSOs Book Three

  Jack Archer

  Copyright © 2021 by Jack Archer

  Cover and Interior Design by Jack Archer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Na’gya Vasilev: Sluirossi, Yimesotwa, Nanyifmil System

  Chapter 2

  Rystar Umara: Sluirossi, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 3

  Rystar Umara: DSV Firehawk

  Chapter 4

  Na’gya Vasilev: Sluirossi, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 5

  Rystar Umara: Outskirts of Chure, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 6

  Enzo Vida: Tahi Prison, Tahi

  Chapter 7

  Rystar Umara: Jeraro Farms, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 8

  Rystar Umara: Sluirossi, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 9

  Rystar Umara: Yimesotwa

  Chapter 10

  Cobalt Torlick: Chure Bubble, Yimesotwa

  Chapter 11

  Rystar Umara: Outside Tahi, Nanyifmil System

  Chapter 12

  Rystar Umara : DSV Firehawk

  About the Author

  Also by Jack Archer

  Chapter One

  Na’gya Vasilev: Sluirossi, Yimesotwa, Nanyifmil System

  Since the death of the Gloriosum, Rystar had holed up in her room. Their attacker was still unknown and it set everyone on edge.

  It was nice to have Rystar back on the Firehawk, even if it did mean she was stomping around the ship, smoking away, and avoiding Kyran as much as she could. They had headed out to Yimesotwa immediately after the battle, hoping no one would follow them.

  Na’gya didn’t know what to expect on Yimesotwa, but he wasn’t ready to meet a group of rogue and possibly hostile Ya’ados. Even if he was the son of Chantakor’s Prime Jurat, he was still part of the royalty leading this war on the Ya’ados.

  Rystar pestered him with questions, even going so far as to follow him into his room, face buried in her comms tablet, taking notes diligently like any good Tracker Princess. The door shut behind her, and he turned around to raise an eyebrow at her, not getting a response.

  “I need to take a shower,” Na’gya said pointedly, letting his wings unfurl and stretch in the large room. Rystar barely looked up, jumping onto his bed and crossing her legs. Na’gya shrugged and stripped his shirt off, followed by his shoes and pants. He wandered to the bathroom and left the door open so he could still hear Rystar, turning on the water and squeezing inside the tiny shower stall.

  “Why did you decide to leave Chantakor, anyway?” Rystar called from the bedroom. Na’gya grabbed the soap and lathered up his body, letting the hot water pour over his chest and trying to keep the water away from his wings as best as he could.

  “I saw the way the Horoth were beginning to treat us,” Na’gya responded, pushing his face in the water spray for a moment, “I didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

  “But you were hidden, were you not?” Rystar asked, and he heard footsteps approaching. He turned around to see Rystar leaning against the door and blushed even though she was still looking at her tablet.

  “I was hidden the majority of my life,” Na’gya sighed and continued to wash, twisting his body in the small space. “I always thought my parents were ashamed of me. Turns out my father was just trying to protect me.”

  “And your mother?” Rystar’s eyes flicked up to him once, then back again to linger. This time, Na’gya did feel a blush creep up his entire body.

  “The Jurat?” Na’gya corrected her.

  “So impersonal,” Rystar chuckled.

  “The Jurat is no more my parent than one of the nurses that took care of me when I was little,” Na’gya said and turned off the water before holding out a hand to Rystar.

  “You don’t think the Jurat loved you?” Rystar asked, dragging the towel from its place and handing it to Na’gya. He began to dry himself off and thought about the question for so long that Rystar actually looked up from her tablet. “I didn’t mean to suggest—”

  “No, you’re okay,” Na’gya assured her, wrapping the towel around his waist and picking up a brush from the sink to run it through his hair. “I’m sure they loved me in their own way. It just wasn’t the way dad loved me.”

  Rystar held his gaze and seemed to realize for the first time where she was. “I apologize for following you into the bathroom. I’m sure you’ve had enough of me.”

  She made to leave, but Na’gya pushed forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. They gazed at each other for a moment before a small smile crept onto Rystar’s face, and she pulled her hand away to brush some hair from her eyes. “I can be done with questions for now. It’s getting late, and I should get going. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “Will you be in your room tonight?” Na’gya asked, wishing he hadn’t.

  “I might be,” Rystar answered, pushing her chin out and clasping her hands behind her back but not moving away from the door. “You planning on visiting later?”

  “Not necessarily,” Na’gya breathed, stepping closer and watching the color in Rystar’s cheeks rise. Sustri were known for their ability to share, but Na’gya had come from a family that mated with one Horoth (or human, in his parents’ case) for life. It was hard to quell the jealous fire boiling in his belly, but there was a darker part of him that longed to watch what she and Kyran got up to in their quarters.

  “Well,” Rystar drawled out, “that’s too bad.”

  “Figured you’d be busy,” Na’gya said before brushing past her and into his room. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be going to sleep now.”

  Rystar gave him one last lingering look up and down before crossing the room and exiting. Na’gya followed her and clicked the lock shut, pressing himself against the door and wishing Rystar was between him and it, without clothes and rubbing herself against his unfurling erection.

  He let the towel slide to the floor and folded his wings as he laid back on the bed, letting his hand move down to palm himself, sliding a finger into his core. Closing his eyes, he thought of Rystar the morning he’d caught her coming back from Kyran’s quarters, hair disheveled and wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts.

  He stroked up his tentacle and imagined Rystar’s mouth on his skin, kissing down his stomach and hips before sinking down onto him and sucking the life out of him like he knew she could. Na’gya turned his head to the side and brought his free hand up to his mouth to bite down the moans that threatened to escape.

  It was the image of Rystar straddling him, bouncing up and down, that sent Na’gya over the edge, and he came while muttering her name into his fist.

  The second shower he took that evening was less productive.

  The next morning they all strapped themselves into the chairs on the bridge, looking out of the space shield of the Firehawk. The sun glared at them as they headed towards the first border gate, its white-hot insides calling to them.

  “Hold on,” Lupe muttered and pushed forward on the stick, sending the ship towards the gate and into the familiar tube of time and light. Lupe navigated them expertly through the stars and out of the border gate before pulling up on the stick and sending them towards the second one.

  They went through the second gate, emerging on the other side to a magenta sun, twice as big as the one they had seen so far. Na’gya�
��s eyes went wide as he took it in, the enormity of it all, but before he knew it, they were heading towards another border gate, and the sun disappeared.

  A small, white dwarf star greeted them in one of the systems. Na’gya hadn’t asked which one they were in and, to be fair, didn’t exactly care. The engines quieted as Lupe’s hands flew over the console and turned them to fly past the sun and towards the blackness of the system.

  He couldn’t see it but knew they were heading to a small, rocky planet somewhere in the center of the system, and it would take a few hours to get there. Some of the crew began to rise from their seats, and Na’gya followed suit, heading back to the elevator.

  The ride to the planet was made in silence. No one knew what to expect from a planet full of Ya’ados, especially one so far out in the Bubble. Na’gya wracked his brain for every possible scenario, including the one where none of his brethren cared to see him. That one made him shudder.

  Rystar sat with a cup of coffee, her legs folded up underneath her in a dining room chair. Na’gya’s stomach was too full of knots to eat.

  Enzo was buried in his tablet, swiping away while Cobalt sat in his own chair across from Rystar, his eyes flickering up towards her every so often. Kyran was nowhere to be found, and Na’gya assumed he had stayed on the bridge with Lupe. Shea tossed Na’gya a tired smile before stretching and getting up to visit the coffee maker.

  “Nervous?” Rystar asked. The rest of the crew looked up at him, pretending not to be as interested as they were.

  “A little,” he replied and shifted in his chair, wings stretching out as best as they could in the space.

  “I’m sure everything will be okay,” Rystar soothed, “we’re almost there, and you’ll get your answers.”

  Na’gya nodded, his stomach sinking. Lupe came in on the speakers, their voice echoing through the dining room. “Approaching Yimesotwa now. Will be landing in Sluirossi in about half an hour or so. Get ready.”

  The weather on Yimesotwa penetrated the ship and chilled them to the bone before they had even landed. Na’gya struggled with a jacket and eventually ripped the back of a large coat into strips to slide over his wings. How he wished there was a store around that sold clothes for Ya’ados.

  When they set down, the entire group except for Lupe crammed themselves in the airlock and waited for depressurization before falling out of it and onto the causeway. The port at Sluirossi was far nicer than the ports they had been to on this trip, and they all filed down the metal walkway towards the first checkpoint.

  A Sustri guard took their tablets one by one and checked them in, nodding to his brethren in turn before gazing at Na’gya’s wings for a moment and taking his tablet. Enzo had programmed a false name into Na’gya’s tablet to avoid detection, and so far, it had worked.

  “Thank you, Mister Korang,” the guard said and nodded, handing Na’gya’s tablet back to him. Rystar and Shea went through next with no questions, and Na’gya thanked the port for being so lax with its security. Enzo didn’t look too happy about it, even if it put the odds in their favor.

  “So, where are we headed?” Kyran turned around when they had made it into the center of the massive foyer, bustling about with all sorts of life forms. Na’gya shifted his weight and scratched an eyebrow. He must have been the only Ya’ados here.

  “I’m not sure,” he mumbled, looking around as if to see a sign labeled “THIS WAY TO THE RESISTANCE.” But there wasn’t even another Ya’ados around to follow. “Maybe we can search the communications board for some ideas.”

  Kyran pursed his lips and took a deep breath, gazing around the foyer and putting his hands on his hips. “Well, we didn’t come all this way to look at a damn comms board. Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

  Na’gya blanched and watched as Kyran turned on a heel, heading off towards a plethora of stalls and a giant elevator that disappeared into the ceiling. Rystar shrugged at him and followed, leaving Na’gya in a stunned wake. He shook his head and trotted up after them.

  There were so many kiosks and different wares, Qartzl and Sustri, Terran and Atrexean, Horoth, and some he didn’t recognize. At one point, Rystar had to pull Shea away from a small shop in the wall that was selling some kind of Terran food Shea hadn’t had in years, according to his pleas.

  The elevator fit all six of them comfortably, including Na’gya and his pain in the ass wings. He folded them up as best as he could behind him, but they still towered over the rest of them, making him duck even with the tall ceiling.

  A quietness settled on the next floor up, a welcome break from the cacophony below. They exited the elevator and turned to their right, following Kyran down a wide walkway lined with native trees. Above them, a curvature of windows showed the howling wind and snow outside.

  “Why do you all keep taking us to these shitty planets?” Rystar asked, gazing above them at the horrifying weather.

  “Because, sweetheart,” Kyran started, glancing back at them, “not every planet can be a winner like Aurum or Yarev. Most of them are tiny rocks fit for nothing but a spaceport.”

  Try as he might, Na’gya couldn’t bristle at the nickname. He shook his head and found himself smiling instead, looking around at all the different stores and wondering if any of them sold clothes that would fit his wings and seeing none. “Where are we going?”

  Kyran turned and called back from the front, pointing at a restaurant stuck in the wall in front of them and to the right. “I told you, Prince, we’re getting something to eat. Preferably at that hole-in-the-wall, seedy-looking bar there.”

  Why they were heading to some place like that was beyond Na’gya, but he followed him anyway, blindly, it seemed.

  “Six, please.” Kyran held up a finger to a bored-looking Sustri server, and they all followed her to a long table near the back of the restaurant. Na’gya slid into the chair near the back to let his wings stretch out. The rest of the group gathered around the table to sit as the server placed menus in front of them and left.

  “So, Kyran,” Enzo started in that particular ‘what the fuck are you doing’ tone he put on so often, “care to tell us why you have the son of the Jurat Prime in broad daylight on a rebel planet?”

  “Rebel planet?” Kyran scoffed, ordering them drinks when the server came back. “First of all, keep your god damn voice down. Second of all, the Sustri don’t care if the Ya’ados are here. It’s the Terrans we need to look out for. I haven’t seen any officials, but they could be in plain clothes. That’s all the more reason to keep our voices down.”

  “I’ll keep my voice down,” Enzo hissed, “but we can’t hide those wings.”

  Subconsciously, Na’gya folded his wings into himself, trying to hide as best as he could.

  “Look, you’ve made him sad,” Kyran pouted, taking his drink as the server dropped it in front of him. He took a sip and pointed at the menu, giving his order first. Na’gya ordered some kind of fish and the rest of them placed their orders. He picked up his drink and took a sip, pulling a face at it.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked Kyran.

  “Charlom,” Kyran replied, taking a sip of his own and making a face as well. “Granted, it’s Sluirossi’s attempt at Charlom, but they’re doing their best. Can’t fault them, right?”

  Na’gya shrugged and took another sip, watching Rystar do the same. “I suppose not.”

  As they waited for their food, Na’gya looked up and saw someone gliding by the restaurant's windows, someone with a jacket that fit perfectly around the base of their enormous, black, and silver wings. He perked up and watched as the Ya’ados turned into the restaurant and spoke with the server, their hands flying around animatedly.

  “Rystar,” Na’gya whispered and placed a hand on her arm. She looked down at it before following his gaze to the Ya’ados up front, who was still talking in hushed tones to the server.

  “Oh my god,” she said, choking a bit on her drink and setting it down. “Kyran, how did you know they’
d be here?”

  “I didn’t,” Kyran said and shrugged, red eyes locked on the Ya’ados now, but Na’gya was sure he had brought them here for that reason. Suddenly, the Ya’ados looked up at their table and noticed Na’gya’s wings. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to the server, keeping his eyes on Na’gya and nodding.

  As he left, Na’gya let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and let his shoulders relax. The server came by the table and set down their food and the slip of paper, presumably from the Ya’ados that had just left. Cobalt, at the end of the table, pushed it to Na’gya and raised his eyebrows at him.

  “For you, I believe,” he muttered. Na’gya took the paper, flipping it over to see what was written on it.

  6B92-Underground Pass

  Na’gya stared at it for a good moment before handing it to Kyran, who raised an eyebrow at the address before looking back at Na’gya and scoffing.

  “These guys sure know how to play, don’t they?” Kyran said.

  “What’s that mean?” Na’gya asked and ignored the fish in front of him. Kyran tucked into a piece of raw meat, fangs bared, and shrugged.

  “Underground Pass isn’t somewhere I’d go now, much less as first-timers on Sluirossi,” he explained. “Although it doesn’t surprise me that’s where they’re holed up.”

  “Why?” Na’gya asked, taking a bite of fish.

  “Full of wonder, ain’t you?” Kyran chuckled and took another rip out of his dinner.

  “Can’t you use your utensils, you animal?” Rystar scoffed and picked up her own fork, possibly to show Kyran what a fork was.

  As a response, Kyran picked up his meat and sunk his fangs into it, letting the blood drip down onto the plate below.