The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure

by JC Andrijeski

  It lowered its head, and Jet was forced to leap back and out of the way as it rushed her, whipping its tail. Nearly tripping on the chain, Jet looked back just long enough to see that Ogli was back on his feet.

  “The table!” she shouted, pointing at the stone structure. “Wait for me there! Run for the table!”

  Wide-eyed, the kid only stared at Jet, standing as close to the security field as he dared.

  Jet wondered if Ogli the Nirreth prince could escape the same way he came in––

  But she didn’t have time to think about that, either.

  She focused on the T-Rex as it whipped its tail around, trying to knock her to the floor, or maybe into the force field. She barely managed to get out of the way, slashing down with the sword as the tail went by. She heard another howl from the dinosaur in reward, and saw that she’d again managed to break the tough hide.

  The young dinosaur tried to circle her, to flank her from behind, but Jet continued to draw it towards the center, away from the Nirreth kid.

  It seemed to have determined that the shiny object in Jet’s hand was the source of pain, just as the force field had been.

  The T-Rex opened its mouth and growled a roar at her, lowering its head.

  Jet lunged at it again, avoiding its feet as she darted closer, slashing at its underbelly a second time, closer to the creature's chest.

  Screaming in pain, the dinosaur backed off, growling and hissing at her angrily.

  Jet was just starting to feel like she might actually get this thing, that she could even kill it, when that hard tail whipped around, faster than her reflexes. It slammed into her side, making her scream… even as it sent her flying across the open arena.

  She landed hard, like before.

  This time, something in her felt broken, or cracked.

  Ribs. Maybe even her hip.

  Lying there, she couldn't move at first.

  For the second time in two days, Black left her fingers, clattering across the tile towards the far loop of force field. Before she’d stopped the spinning in her head or behind her eyes, Jet began crawling towards the sword, gasping in pain as she felt the floor tremble under the dinosaur’s large feet.

  She was done.

  Jet knew she was done.

  She was dragging one of her legs.

  At least one of her ribs was broken.

  If she couldn’t get to her feet, the dinosaur would simply break her spine with one crunching step. On the plus side, she might not be able to feel it when it began eating her alive. Maybe it would start with her legs and she would bleed out before it got high enough where she could feel pain, or see much of what it was doing.

  Her fingers closed on the handle of her sword.

  She chanced a look backwards, saw the young T-Rex nearly on top of her.

  Behind the Rex, the Nirreth kid watched what was about to happen, terror in his eyes.

  He screamed, holding out a hand as the T-Rex bore down on her.

  “Run!” she yelled at him.

  She caught hold of her sword, gripping the hilt in one bloody hand. Rolling to her back, she held the sword over her, hoping she might at least be able to hurt the thing one last time before she died.

  The creature reached her, its foot looming up over Jet’s face.

  Relief washed over her.

  At least it would be quick.

  She watched that massive foot descend, claws extended––

  When suddenly, everything went dark.

  15

  Disorientation

  Jet opened her eyes.

  She raised her arm from where it shielded her face, staring around in bewilderment.

  She stared at the faces near her, looking down at her, unable to make sense of them.

  Clawed, Nirreth hands pulled her to her feet, not ungently.

  One was unlocking the cuff around her wrist, while another knelt down to deal with the cuff circling her ankle. Jet just stood there, watching them work.

  Her leg no longer hurt. Neither did her side––where she’d been positive, only a few seconds ago, that at least a few of her ribs had been shattered. Her knee worked perfectly. Both of her legs held her weight without any stress.

  When had she gotten to her feet?

  She remembered. The Nirreth helped her up.

  Why had the done that?

  The two Nirreth working around her smiled at her, and that time, their black eyes reflected the friendly attempts to mimic a human facial expression.

  Then Jet heard laughter.

  Human laughter.

  She also recognized the voice.

  Rubbing her neck, she turned her head, already scowling.

  Before she found the owner of the voice, and the laughter, she found herself looking at Ogli, son of the Royals. She felt her shoulders unclench in spite of herself.

  “You okay, kid?” she asked him.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Of course he is!” Richter said, slapping her on the shoulder.

  The blow didn’t hurt exactly, but it caught her off guard, enough that it nearly toppled Jet over. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so exhausted. Still, at least Richter could speak English, and right about then, she needed some kind of explanation.

  “What just happened?” she said to him.

  “You did marvelously! Far better than even I expected, truthfully.” He grinned at her, grabbing her shoulder with his thick fingers and shaking her affectionately. “I could kiss you right now. I really could.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Jet warned.

  She heard a snorting, Nirreth laugh, and turned her head.

  She was shocked to see Trazen standing there, the Ringmaster who liked to kill human women. He was holding one of Ogli’s hands, which she hadn’t noticed until now. He gave her a sideways smile, something strangely more nuanced than the Nirreth attempts to emulate human facial expressions.

  Jerking her eyes off that face, and the dark, gold-flecked eyes, she focused back on Richter, who was giving Trazen a hard look.

  Realizing Richter still had his hands on her then, Jet jerked her shoulder out from under his fingers, stepping backwards.

  Looking back at her, away from Trazen, Richter chuckled.

  Undaunted, he walked up to her, and caught hold of her upper arm, pulling her away from Ogli and Trazen and walking her deeper into the room. As he did, he gestured meaningfully out over the space of what had been her fighting arena.

  Following the motion of his hand, Jet realized abruptly what she was seeing. The entire space looked exactly as it had prior to the demonstration.

  “What happened?” she said again, numb.

  “A very interesting simulation,” Richter said, chuckling. “Very, very interesting, indeed. They threw the kid in there towards the end, just to see how you’d react, since you did such a great job outmaneuvering the T-Rex. I admit, I was a little nervous you might hurt him.”

  “Hurt him?” Jet stared at him blankly.

  “The kid.”

  Blinking, Jet gave him a disgusted look. “You would be.”

  “Jet.” He grabbed her shoulder a second time, shaking her as if frustrated with her lack of understanding. “You don't understand. You didn’t just do well. You were incredible in there. Incredible! Selflessly protecting the most beloved son of the Royals… gods above.”

  He chuckled again, bumping her arm with his good-naturedly, almost like something Anaze might have done while they were setting traps.

  “You have no idea how much money you just made me, girl. I think every Nirreth in the place bid on you after that…”

  Jet scowled, rubbing her wrist where the shackle had been.

  She didn’t want to talk to him, but again felt like he was her only option.

  “So that’s all it was? Some kind of mirage to get me to dance harder? To amuse them like a good little monkey?” She scowled harder, the longer she thought, the more foolish she felt. “All of it was fak
e? Everything?”

  “A lot of it, yeah.” He seemed to think. “Well. Most of it, really.”

  “How did they manage that?”

  Her voice came out even colder. She continued to examine her body, feeling over herself, assuring herself she was in one piece.

  If Richter noticed either her anger, or her checking for broken bones, he didn’t react.

  “Most of it was projections inside the VR field,” he said, shrugging.

  When she continued to glare at him, he explained more.

  “Your clothes were fitted with sensors, so you’d feel pain,” he said, pointing. “They needed to see how you’d react to that, too, since you’re being considered for the Rings. They don’t want a human who curls up in a ball at the slightest discomfort. They do that via electical signals, just like the virtual field gave you sounds, and visuals. They need you to think it’s real. Part of the deal is, you can’t know it’s not real.”

  Jet gave him a disbelieving look.

  “Hey!” He held up his hands, showing her his palms in a mock apology. “They can’t hurt the merchandise before it’s even changed hands. Now, can they? What kind of businessman would I be, if I let them dent you up before I’d been compensated fairly?”

  “So the dinosaur,” she said. “That was all fake?”

  Again, Richter shrugged.

  Now his eyes reflected puzzlement, like he thought she might be soft in the head.

  “They bring out a real one, partly as ritual, and partly to help you buy into the illusion, since you see everyone’s reaction,” he said, still watching her face, his eyes holding an open scrutiny. “Once you get a good look, they lead it back out. You don’t see them take it away, because they do it after you’ve been immersed in the virtual arena. We saw everything, of course… the audience.”

  Jet nodded, her jaw still clenched.

  “The kid was fake, too?”

  He snorted, shaking his head.

  “Of course he was. I thought that part tipped you off, honestly. I was worried the gig was up, when I saw you staring at the kid, but the Royals wanted to see what you’d do. They insisted. And I couldn’t really argue. You’d already passed the demonstration with flying colors.”

  At Jet’s deepening scowl, Richter chuckled again, shaking his head.

  “Jet, for crying out loud. Did you really think they’d risk that kid getting so much as a stubbed toe? I told you––he’s the heir to the throne. I thought for sure you’d figured it out when I saw the look on your face. I thought you must know he couldn’t possibly be real. I even wondered if maybe you were playing to the crowd a bit, giving them what they wanted…”

  Jet didn’t answer.

  She tasted the coppery tang of blood in her mouth, realized she’d bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to break the skin.

  “So what now?” she said.

  “What now?” Throwing his head back in a laugh, Richter slapped her good-naturedly on the shoulder.

  Nothing seemed able to dampen his mood, certainly not her anger at him.

  “Now you belong to the Royals, sweetheart! You’re the new bodyguard for Ogli, future ruler of Earth. You’re scheduled to begin training for the Rings in two weeks.”

  He motioned with his head towards Laksri, who had somehow managed to join them silently on Jet’s other side.

  “Laksri here’s going to be your translator, at least for now. He’ll teach you the local language, and some of the cultural stuff.”

  “What about Anaze?” Jet asked, her voice still hard as ice.

  “He’s part of the deal,” Richter said coolly, removing his hand from her. “They bought him, too, when I told them he might be useful in training you. He’ll be staying with you for a while. Until they can assess a role for him in the palace.”

  “What kind of role?” Jet said.

  Richter’s expression didn’t flicker.

  “I don't know,” he said, matter-of-fact. “What can he do?”

  Jet didn't answer, but felt her teeth grind into her check.

  “Can he fight?” Richter said.

  Jet nodded, her eyes following the progress of Ogli, son of the Royals. She saw him walk by, now hand-in-hand with what looked like a house employee. She didn’t see Trazen in their entourage anymore. She didn’t see him among the crowd of partying Nirreth, either. Maybe he’d taken off, heading home to abuse more human women.

  Ogli stared back at her, dark eyes wide in his face, a kind of awe expressed in that dark blue countenance. His coiling tail wrapped around the thigh of the adult Nirreth with him.

  “He can fight,” Jet acknowledged. “Anaze.”

  “Great!” Richter said, slapping her shoulder again. “Maybe he can join you in the Rings. Or we can groom him as a trainer.”

  Jet didn’t ask what that meant.

  She watched the small entourage of Nirreth disappear through the far doors of the long room. The boy Ogli walked in the center, still watching her with wide eyes. Jet noticed only then that he was holding his pet otter again, gripping it tightly in his free arm as it clung to his chest. His long, blue fingers stroked the back of its furry head.

  “That’s me, too,” she muttered. “The new pet.”

  Richter was watching her face warily again when Jet turned.

  “So what now?” she said again, speaking bluntly, matter-of-fact.

  Richter folded his arms, staring her down, just as she did him.

  When she didn’t break the silence, Richter smiled.

  “A shower?” he suggested, looking down at her humorously.

  She fought not to hit him in the face. It was probably good she no longer held Black in her hands, either.

  She remembered the sword had been fake, too.

  “Sure,” she said instead. “Why not?”

  Even as she said it, she found herself fantasizing again, wondering if there was some way she could kill Richter, if she got him alone.

  Somehow that bothered her the most, the idea that he could leave from here, happily in his ship, swimming in Nirreth currency. Currency she’d earned him, rewarding his kidnapping by proving herself a worthy addition to the Royal’s collection of artifacts and animals.

  Worse than that, was the thought that she wasn’t the first.

  She would be far from the last.

  Richter would leave here well fed, refueled and looking for more skags to drag back to sell to his Nirreth overlords.

  To think, he’d once been known as a bigger radical than the rebels themselves.

  He’d once been feared and adored by the skags, sometimes condemned as a fanatic, other times championed as a human hero. Jet remembered being told by her uncles that Richter was one of the few humans left who claimed he would fight to the death, for as long as it took, until every last Nirreth on Earth was dead.

  So much for idealism.

  16

  Race Traitor

  Jet hadn’t expected to find anyone in her quarters when she exited the shower cubicle they’d provided her.

  When she saw the tall Nirreth standing in the middle of the small room, she came to a dead stop. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she gripped the thin robe she wore tightly across the front of her chest, hating how self-conscious she felt.

  She recognized him, though.

  Already, she was learning to tell them apart.

  “Laksri?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  Even as she said it, she felt the back of her neck burn with heat.

  It crossed her mind that she might have misunderstood Richter’s comment about Laksri sticking around. She hadn’t forgotten Richter’s promise to Laksri in that medical examination room, that he could sting her all he wanted, after the demonstration ended.

  So, what? Was she supposed to “entertain” the giant?

  Is that what Richter meant?

  Watching the Nirreth look her over in the thin robe, Jet felt her muscles tense. She let her eyes dart around at the furnit
ure closest to where she stood, looking for a weapon.

  Laksri must have noticed the change in her stance.

  Showing his teeth in a less-exaggerated version of a human smile, he made one of those reassuring gestures with his long fingers, flicking his tail around behind him. Jet saw humor in his demeanor somehow, but wasn’t sure how to interpret that, either.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  Her voice came out blunt that times, almost a threat.

  Laksri walked deeper into the room, folding his hands neatly over his belly as he walked. He approached Jet in a roundabout way, as if still attempting to disarm her, perhaps with his casual, meandering strides, perhaps by keeping his hands and tail in visible sight.

  “That’s close enough,” she said, holding up a hand when he stood within a few yards of her. She hadn’t moved, but continued to drip water on the plush carpet, mostly from her long hair, which hung down her back.

  “What is it, Laksri?” she said again. “What do you want?”

  She told herself impatience caused her to talk to him that way, not fear at being alone with the dark-skinned giant––or the way he’d looked at her in the robe.

  She studied those deep black eyes now, noting the iridescent flecks, paying attention to where he looked, the expressions she glimpsed there.

  “There is more to Captain’s message,” Laksri said.

  He hissed the words softly, seeming to struggle to form the English words.

  “More?” Jet said, gripping the robe tighter. “What kind of more?”

  She’d already zeroed in on a heavy lamp she was pretty sure she could wield as a weapon. It looked heavy enough to crack the Nirreth over the head, if Laksri tried to get any closer to her with his tail.

  “How much more?” she said warily, feeling her jaw tighten when she saw Laksri glance at the lamp, too. “Where is he? Why didn’t Richter come himself?”

  Laksri smiled, motioning towards her with his hand.

  “It is things he cannot say. He is friend of Nirreth… he deals with Royals. He still is human. He still outside.”