Uprising of the Exiled (Splintered Galaxy Book 2)

by Eddie R. Hicks

  … … …

  An hour later, Jazz sat in a single patron seat at the Vuanel Gi Talsyk. The restaurant was barely alive with activity, probably because of the heavy downfall of rain. He grinned at the spectacle of rainwater. It was falling from the sky so fast, that to this day, he was not used to seeing it. Earth rain showers and Morutrin Prime rain showers were indeed two different experiences. Amazing what a difference twenty percent more gravity can do to weather. The barriers covering the top of the patio like establishment relentlessly ripped with blue waves as each and every raindrop slammed into it. Jazz’s utensil slowly picked at his meal in steady stages. His drinks received most of his attention, having to have them refilled twice now.

  A pair of soft and warm hands landed on both of Jazz’s broad shoulders, and began to move back and forth, massaging his stressed-out joints. There could only be one person who would do this. And her head popped into view from his left side. It was Kalis.

  “I thought I might have come too late,” Jazz said in the Rabuabin language.

  “My shift was supposed to start now, but since it’s slow, I’m going to head out for the day,” Kalis said.

  “So you have no plans?” Jazz asked with a hit of charm in his voice.

  She stopped her message to lean in closer to Jazz. “None!”

  His hands reached in to pull out the Talsyk rose he swiped from the imperial palace, and then extended it forward toward her. Her blue eyes tilted down to examine it, then went back up to stare into Jazz’s face with a level of hunger he’d not seen before in her. At that precise moment, he was glad Phylarlie was gone.

  … … …

  Jazz brought Kalis back up into his apartment suite. Kalis wasted no time pressing her young and plump lips across Jazz’s face in a rapid succession of moves as the doors slid shut. Her hands reached forward and raced to remove his top and pants, each newly exposed part of his body was greeted by multiple kisses from her. He was shocked at how fast she removed his attire. This certainly wasn’t her first time undressing a man…and she most certainly possessed way more energy than he did. Was it her youth? Or the fact she was a Rabuabin or both? It was hard for Jazz to figure it out, for his mind entered a brief period of pure ecstasy as her smooth, soft lips maintained their pervious actions across his body and then later wrapped around his shaft.

  Before he knew it, her face was back up toward his neck with another series of kisses, while his hands went to work removing her dress and undergarments. Her ears began to twitch with pleasure as he began to explore her now exposed body with his hands while she explored the sides of his muscular legs with her tail. It was soft and warm, and it slowly wrapped itself around his left leg.

  The sparks of pleasure erupted so quickly between the two that they never made it to the bedroom; the couch had to make do as it was close. A decision Jazz would later regret. Kalis was a firecracker. Every thrust Jazz made inside of her triggered her to release a loud shriek of ecstasy from her lovely lips that his ears weren’t used to, and no doubt his neighbors, either. Her actions were completely unpredictable. If her hands weren’t in her mouth, they were in his mouth or someplace on her doing something extremely sexy.

  Without warning, her hands wrapped around the back of his bald head, and pulled his mouth toward her mouth, another passionate make-out session commenced. Her hands refused to let go of his head, much like how her legs refused to unwrap themselves from around the back of his waist. Jazz expected this; Rabuabin men had larger horns, which pointed outward, making face-to-face kissing difficult, as there was a good chance of the female getting jabbed by them. I hope she lets go soon, he thought, for pulling out from her grip was going to be quite the challenge. He was seconds away from his climax, and antipregnancy chems only worked for Hashmedai. Being an exile, Kalis probably wasn’t sterilized like the rest of the Radiance races.

  … … …

  The night and rain still dominated the sky, another feature of this world Jazz never adapted to—its lengthy day and night cycles. Jazz’s hand reached across toward his data pad and checked it to see if there were any important messages from Onatiasha; nothing.

  Kalis’s nimble fingers yanked the device out of his hands. He rolled to face her, as Kalis rolled her petite frame across Jazz’s dark body and peered into his eyes in a borderline hypnotizing way. The Rabuabin were such an interesting race to Jazz. And finally on his last day out here in the cosmos before his triumphant return to Earth, he got to fuck one.

  She tossed the data pad…somewhere, he couldn’t quite focus on where. Her naked body over his was far too distracting. “The next step is Tu berry wine,” she said running her fingers across his chiseled chest.

  Customary Rabuabin courting involved male and female partners exchanging a preset list of gifts to one another, and as Jazz discovered, the gifts changed based on the seasonal changes on their home world of Talsyk. First step was the rose. The next step, if the female was interested in going further, was for her to offer Tu berry wine.

  After the Rabuabin joined the Radiance Union, however, this custom became a thing of the past, only being practiced by Rabuabin exiles such as Kalis. Of course, if one were looking for booty call—in that case you stopped with the gift exchange after the fifth gift, which was exactly what Jazz’s plan was, now more than ever, since he wouldn’t be back for two decades.

  “You might want to wait a few years for that,” Jazz said. “I’m going off-world, into deep space.”

  “I’ll wait,” her fingers slid across his six-pack abs, the feeling triggered her tail to rapidly sway back and forth.

  “Twenty-one years?”

  “We Rabuabin live slightly longer compared to other races,” Kalis said. “I’ll still look the same as I do now.” Both of her hands now reached up to explore Jazz’s chest. “If your plan was to have a night of fun, it backfired. You can’t get rid me that easy!” Her gawk returned to that hypnotic sultry look from earlier. “You’ll be back, like the others.”

  Great, she’s clingy; good job, Jake. “If there are others, why aren’t you seeing them?” Jazz asked.

  Her forehead lowered, pressing against his as she whispered, “I don’t want them. I want you. And I always have.”

  Her aggressive fascination with him was admirable yet creepy. Was this the way exiled Rabuabin females normally acted around men they were interested in? Or was she just was just a little loopy in the head?

  Chapter 12

  ►► Imperial Palace, Paryo

  ► Uemaesce System

  Kroshka’s feet stomped into Y’lin’s personal sleeping chambers uninvited, where her mother and empress to the empire sat naked and crossed-legged on a soft velvet stool. Kroshka stopped a meter ahead of Y’lin. Her fists were rolled up, and her fangs scowled outward. Y’lin had a number of servants next to her, all fully clad in their red servant skirts. Some were in the process of patting her dry from the cold bath she finished taking. Two others stood behind Y’lin, engaged in the tedious task of styling her hair, while one other applied her makeup.

  Y’lin’s head tilted upward to her daughter, probably wondering why she was standing there, Kroshka figured. It took Kroshka a moment, but she finally managed to calm herself down enough to speak in a coherent manner. “Why…why did you not tell me?” Kroshka asked.

  “Tell you what?” Y’lin spoke calmly, unlike Kroshka.

  “Jazz left the empire!” Kroshka raised her voice. “You ordered him to Earth!”

  Y’lin smirked and then raised her left hand and deployed her claws. An eager servant swooped down with a tube-shaped device to sharpen Y’lin’s seldom-used claws. Y’lin then said, “He is an assassin. If I have a special mission, he will go where I want him to go. Much like with Phylarlie when I asked her to find you on Earth.”

  “He will not return here for over twenty years!” Kroshka yelled. “You know how important he is to me.”

  Y’lin’s pale face began to twitch. “Leave us!” she then ordered the s
ervants. The servants all froze in unison, as none of them had finished the tasks Y’lin required of them. “Leave us now!” Y’lin shouted. Panic-driven footsteps resulted in a mass exodus of red skirts out the sliding door, leaving an angry mother and daughter staring each other down.

  The sound of fleeing heels ceased; Kroshka returned to her defiant stance. Her mother more or less banished the one man in Kroshka’s life she had developed feelings for, feelings that now had been converted into anger. “This is not fair to me,” Kroshka said. “It was troublesome enough that he could not find the time to visit me during the year he was here.”

  “If and when that human returns, you shall be a mature woman, ruling the empire with your mate,” Y’lin said and then stood up from her seat to continue. “A Hashmedai mate that is, not a human. I doubt an alien like him would see the true beauty of you anyway.”

  “I will not forgive you this.”

  A slap Kroshka had never felt before slammed across her face, interrupting her statement. “Stop acting like a child. You are an adult!” Y’lin demanded. “You are the last living heir to the throne! Find a mate, a Hashmedai one. Make babies, lots of them!”

  Kroshka held the side of her cheek, which now bore a red handprint. She did everything in her power to resist weeping; she took those emotions and converted them to additional anger. “I will not!” she insolently cried.

  Smack, Kroshka was hit once more. This time she fell to the carpeted floor. “You will do it. You will,” Y’lin assertively said.

  “As you said, Mother, I am not a child.” Kroshka’s skinny arms pushed her off the floor. “I will not carry out your demands; I will make my own.” Kroshka’s head aimed upward to her mother’s yellow glowing eyes. “This is what adults do, correct?”

  Y’lin turned her back to Kroshka, and stepped into her bedroom. She began searching for a gown to wear. “Eeladen has taken interest in you,” Y’lin said while she slipped into a loose-fitting blue outfit. “He offered to get to know you better. Do not walk away from a man like him.”

  Kroshka’s reply was a hiss, followed by her storming out of the chamber much like the servants did minutes ago.

  … … …

  Onatiasha stared ominously from the imperial palace’s hangar bay entrance at the heavy snowfall. It brought back memories of her being a little girl playing in the snow with a toy sword and shield. Her friends would launch snowballs at her, pretending to be Radiance rangers as she flailed her toys aimlessly to deflect them. Practicing defending the empire from religious zealots, she often told her parents when they inquired about the bits of snow and ice stuck to her purple hair.

  Three gentle taps on Onatiasha’s shoulders pulled her mind back into the present day, where her eyes were orange and not maroon, as they were back in those days. “Di’aria.” Onatiasha grumbled as she turned around to see that she was doing the tapping.

  “I trust you weren’t planning to leave without me,” Di’aria said.

  “I was, since you’re not supposed to be coming,” Onatiasha said.

  “I see Hasiv’s age is starting to show,” Di’aria said and stepped into the transport ship Onatiasha was preparing to board. “I’m coming with you. Hasiv was impressed with my skills, more so than yours.”

  “‘More so than yours?’” Onatiasha said as she faced the transport and grunted. “Don’t let Zhinbryo hear you say that.”

  “Say what?” said Zhinbryo as he stepped into the transport and laid eyes on Di’aria strapping her seat belt on. “And what is this psionic breeder doing here?” he added.

  “It seems Hasiv is more of a paranoid fool than I thought,” Onatiasha said and then stepped away from the transport. She started to wait for the sole reason they hadn’t left yet. Minutes later, that reason arrived. Kroshka.

  “You requested to speak with me, Onatiasha?” Kroshka said as she approached Onatiasha.

  “Yes,” Onatiasha said as her hands removed a plasma dagger from her pouch and offered it to the young princess. “Jazz wanted you to have this.”

  Kroshka held the dagger in her slender hands; the weight of the blade caused her hands to lower slightly. She looked down at the weapon for a good while. “Jazz.” was all she had to say. After another pause, she said to Onatiasha, “Well at least I shall be closer to his age when he returns.”

  Onatiasha’s face moved to the right and left, nobody was close enough to hear. She then quietly asked, “May I offer you advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t wait for him, twenty-one years is a long time to wait for someone who hasn’t shown a whole lot of affection.”

  Kroshka puckered her brow and yelled, “He has not had the chance to do so; Mother is always trying to keep him away!”

  Onatiasha’s hands instantly stretched out toward Kroshka’s face in a please-keep-your-voice-down movement. “I’ll just say this. There’s a reason Zhinbryo is always in a bad mood. And always alone,” said Onatiasha. “Don’t be the female version of Zhinbryo, especially when you take the throne.” Onatiasha’s voice returned to a normal volume as she revealed, “I must depart; it was an honor serving for you.”

  “You can always return once you are done.”

  Onatiasha laughed. “Your mother won’t have it. She must be overjoyed that I’m transferring.” Onatiasha hesitated briefly. There was another detail she didn’t mention, and she didn’t want to involve Kroshka anymore in the search for the Celestial Order—more than ever after that attack. But who else can do it? “And one last thing.”

  “What is it?” Kroshka asked.

  Onatiasha leaned in closer to her and whispered, “Seek out a woman named Fahia; she may be able to shed more light on the Celestial Order.” Kroshka’s face grew pale, more than it naturally was. “You should be able to find her here in the city.”

  “Why me?”

  “Who else can I trust with this task? We’re heading to Taxah and won’t rematerialize from the space bridge for at least a month. Jazz is gone to Earth, Phylarlie is acting like a female Yoronarian dog,” Onatiasha explained. “With that said, look into linking that dagger with a miniature battery pack that you can hide in your handbag. We can’t afford to lose your help, but we can’t afford to miss out on this information. I’ll send you an encoded message after we take off. It will have all the instructions you need to find this order defector.”

  … … …

  ►► Cargo Ship, Morutrin Prime Orbit

  ► Morutrin System

  What a waste of my perfect time, Phylarlie thought as the cargo ship she stowed away on rematerialized in the expanse of the Morutrin system. Following up on Jazz’s advice, Phylarlie made the two-week trek to the Assassins’ Guild on Paryo to claim her partial reward for her participating in General Hilemei’s death. She also wanted to prove to the guild that she was still an active member by taking Jazz and Veloshira’s kill order for Avearan Slayer that they had to drop.

  Her advanced cloaking field, enhanced by her psionic powers, along with the new equipment upgrades she picked up from the guild, rendered her whole body completely invisible and undetectable to the ship’s crew. The past twenty-two years had seen a number of technological advancements for assassins and the military alike.

  The biggest upgrade for Phylarlie was her armor; she wore a light version of the new psionic assassin armor. It consisted of long thigh boots, a skirt, a vest, and small halter. As with all light-armor variations, it was designed to be extremely lightweight and consume less power, as the suit had less area on the body to protect and heal with its built-in medical systems. It was also ideal for use on hot planetary environments, just like Morutrin Prime, Avearan’s last-known location. The biggest change in the suit was the inclusion of shields. Hashmedai armor never had shields, as they relied on plasma weaponry for combat. The battery packs that powered their weapons and armor just couldn’t handle both. Ships were one thing; reactors were powerful enough to provide shields and plasma, but the small portable batteries?
Shields or plasma—you had to pick one.

  This suit was different. Its shields, while weaker compared to shields of Radiance and human combat armor, consistently shut off when the wearer was in certain situations. The shields would become inactive should the wearer activate its cloaking device, plasma daggers, jump ports, or heavy use of medical systems. However, if the wearer was not doing any of that, the shields would automatically activate, providing a small level of extra protection. The idea was for the wearer to engage in a dance of shutting down all systems to force the shields to activate, and then deactivate the shields to perform the needed task; all of this was aided by the addition of a secondary set of nonplasma daggers.

  Since assassins who use this armor have psionic gifts, those who have a level of psionics strong enough can channel psionic energy into the daggers, causing them to heat up to extremely hot temperatures similar to the white fireballs psionics were able to conjure. The psionic daggers did not heavily rely on the armor’s battery pack. They could be used in conjunction with the shields. It was even possible to use them while still cloaked, should the assassin’s mind be strong enough to handle the demand of charging psionic daggers and maintaining true invisibly with the cloak.

  Phylarlie’s last addition to her arsenal was the introduction of a new disk, a gravity well disk. When activated, the disk would create a small singularity, forcing all matter close to it to be drawn in and orbit it. Users had to be careful with this disk, as they could be drawn into the singularity as well. In addition, using it in an enclosed environment could cause major structural damage, as the walls, floors, and the ceiling could be ripped apart and sucked in. The mere thought of rigging a Radiance transport ship full of rangers with a dozen of these disks put a devious grin on Phylarlie’s face.