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

by JC Andrijeski

  Anaze had been treating her like some kind of prostitute ever since she and Laksri officially became a thing––meaning in actuality, not simply as a part of their play-acting to convince the Royals that Jet was housebroken.

  Ironic, really, since she was only in this position because of Anaze.

  The memory still angered her whenever she let herself dwell on it. She’d hung out with Anaze for years, thinking they were friends. She’d trusted him, and all that time, he’d been sizing her up as an expendable foot-soldier in his father’s army.

  Now he had the gall to judge her for it.

  Giving him a scathing look, one she hoped held as much contempt as she felt, she got a faint twinge of satisfaction when she saw him blanch.

  Turning towards Richter, she let her voice grow bored.

  “What else do we know about her? Anything?” She gave another low grunt. “Anything that can actually help me, that is?”

  Richter lifted a hand off the grass where he’d been supporting his upper torso.

  Making a vague sort of gesture, he shrugged.

  “She’s not local,” he said. “…Obviously. Al-En Mosq’s keeping pretty quiet about how he found her, but the rumor is, she’s some kind of Russian South African, or maybe Dutch Russian. I don’t remember exactly. We’re still trying to find evidence of genetic tampering. We’re not the only ones. A lot of Nirreth are suspicious, too. I mean, look at her…”

  Richter snorted, glancing around at the rest of them.

  When no one returned his smile, he shrugged.

  “…Yeah. Well. My point is, it wouldn’t take much to get her disqualified. A number of different parties are looking into it, so we may even have help. No one wants to bet on her until they know for sure she’s going to be qualified.”

  Jet sighed, internally that time.

  The Nirreth and their gambling addictions. She supposed she should be grateful Laksri didn’t suffer from that particular affliction.

  Most Nirreth went into a kind of fever around the Rings.

  “Anything on her stats?” Jet asked.

  Leaning forward, she folded her hands in her lap.

  “Have you seen any of her prelim scores? Special skills? Brain scans?” She gave a low snort. “It would be convenient if she was stupid, at least.”

  “No, pet.” Richter let his voice grow serious, along with his coffee-colored eyes. “I haven’t seen anything. But I was told, in confidence of course… she’s not stupid.”

  At Jet’s frown, he made another of those vague half-shrugs.

  “Not a Nobel prize winner, either. She’s not book smart, or educated, but I was warned she has a good mind for the fights. Her demonstration utilized Nirreth opponents. Al-En Mosq’s choice, which means the idea likely came from Trazen. Usually they use animals, to give the fighter an advantage in terms of intelligence, but again, I think Trazen was trying to make an impression. I don’t know details, love, I wasn’t invited, but I hear she did well. Well enough that I’m told her preliminary scores would be a lot higher, if there wasn’t the question about her parentage and possible genetic disqualification.”

  “Is she a mutant?” Jet said, staring at him. “What do you think?”

  Richter met her gaze.

  For an instant, his cheery veneer faded.

  “I would bet my life on it,” he said. “But opinions are worthless. We need proof.”

  “What kind of mutant?” she pressed.

  “If I had to guess?” Richter said. “I’d say she’s a Nirreth-human hybrid. Maybe 70-30, human to Nirreth, to keep her looking as human as possible. They’ve done something to make her blood seem pure. But again, I’m not the only one who’s speculated this. Mosq infused Nirreth DNA in her somehow. I don’t know how he managed to fool the medicos, but––”

  “I agree,” Laksri cut in.

  When Jet glanced at him, she saw his eyes focused on Anaze, his dark pupils dilated.

  Great, Jet thought, so he’d seen their little glaring match earlier.

  She kept her face expressionless when Laksri looked back at her with a slight frown.

  “I have seen such creatures before,” the Nirreth added. “Their form was more mixed. Less pure on either end… but there are similarities. The way the legs form, and the shoulders. It is very much the same. The lack of a tail, and the human skin tones, these are constants, in every hybrid I have seen of our two kinds.”

  “What about the blood, Laks?” Jet said.

  His tail flickered more sharply behind his back.

  He scowled.

  “I do not know. But physical traits of humans tend to be dominant. Perhaps Trazen found some way to make the blood factors match closely enough that traces cannot be found.”

  Richter rolled his eyes dramatically.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That, or he just paid off the medicos. Or did a blood transfusion before the final tests. In any case, Al-En Mosq didn’t do this on his own. I’m still betting Trazen is holding his leash. Trazen knows his way around the rules. There are a hundred ways he could break them without undue risk of being caught. Hell, we broke a few ourselves, if you recall.”

  Laksri’s expression turned grim as he met Jet’s gaze.

  “Or that,” he conceded quietly.

  “How much time do I have?” Jet said. “How long before Trazen and Al-En Mosq get their challenge match?”

  “That depends, kitten,” Richter said, giving her another of those level stares. “Laks owns you now. He says he’s not going to agree with any challenges.”

  Jet looked at Laksri.

  “Is that true?”

  Richter answered her. “It is his right.”

  “But?” Jet said, looking warily between them. “There’s a ‘but,’ right?”

  “…But,” Richter conceded, giving her another nod. “There will be political fallout. Trazen’s raising a stink about you being queen and a fighter.”

  He gave Laksri a thin-lipped smile.

  “…Pretty ironic, coming from a Ringmaster who’s trying to run his own candidate from behind the scenes, but there it is. He is demanding that you step down from the fights.”

  “Great,” Jet said at once. She gestured shortly. “So I stop. Big deal.”

  Richter gave her a hard look, his eyes warning.

  “Not so fast, kitten. We need you in the Rings. If you turn into a house pet, the Nirreth aren’t going to stand for you being on that throne, not for long.”

  Grunting, he ran a thick hand through his chestnut-colored hair, right before he planted it back on the grass.

  “Memories are short around here,” he added. “You’re their favorite little Samurai right now. If you’re not fighting, you’re just a girl with nice hair who’s getting screwed by their king-to-be every night.”

  Jet winced, her jaw hardening, but Richter held up a hand.

  “…My point is, that whole symbol of ‘sword-wielding human girl fighting for freedom’ is the only reason they’ve put up with you in this role in the first place. If you disappear out of the limelight… or worse, if the only time they see you is at the periodic banquet in a revealing dress, stoned from Laksri’s tail… they’re going to start viewing you as another of their pet dogs. They might want to sleep with you, but they won’t want you on the throne. Not exactly the poster child for human independence that we’re looking for, love.”

  Jet felt her face tighten, but as she turned over his words, she could only nod.

  “You’re so sure they’ll accept me now?” she said.

  “No,” Richter said, blunt.

  His eyes looked honest, which again threw her.

  “…But we don’t know much of anything in terms of how much they can accept from a human. Didn’t Laksri tell you? This whole thing’s a grand experiment. We can go off what we know about Nirreth culture, and how they’ve responded so far, but the truth is, we’re throwing darts with a blindfold on, just praying we’re aiming in the right direction.”

 
When Jet glanced at Laksri, he made a subtle gesture with his head and hand, conceding Richter’s words.

  “This is true,” he said with a low hiss. “We have capitalized on the Samurai thing, since they have responded to this… but we do not know how long it will last, or if it will translate to them viewing humans more sympathetically as a whole. I can guess that it is so, from what I know of my people. But there are many agendas being played right now, and not only in the government. There are those who make a career out of manipulating the sentiments of my people. Right now, our agendas appear to align, but that will not always be so. Until we have consolidated our new rule, we cannot afford to do anything that might turn popular sentiment against us. Not unless we are forced.”

  He paused, his dark eyes on Jet’s.

  “Trazen knows this. It is why he is conducting this charade with Al-En Mosq. He is hoping to force you out of the Rings… or to humiliate you with a loss of face, assuming his candidate can beat you in a one-on-one match. If he can get me to refuse the fight, that is also a loss of face. One serious enough that popular sentiment could again turn against either or both of us, if the refusal went public.”

  “What does he want?” Jet said. “Trazen? He must be after something. This can’t all be some grudge thing with me?”

  “We’re looking into that too, kitten,” Richter said.

  That time, however, she saw the caginess in his eyes, and even in his body language.

  Feeling her face grow hot, she kept her voice low and controlled with an effort.

  “You know something,” she said. “Is he the mole you were worried about before?”

  “Mole for who?” Richter said, his voice carefully blank.

  “Don’t give me that crap!” she snapped, losing her cool abruptly. “It’s my skin on the line. Especially if I have to fight that freak!”

  That time, when Richter and Laksri exchanged looks, she saw a different look come to Richter’s face. After a longer pause, where Laksri’s expression grew almost as angry as Jet’s, Richter gave a low sigh, turning back in her direction.

  “Look, kitten,” he said, running another hand through his hair. “You have to have noticed… Trazen’s not the most pro-human rights Nirreth on the planet.”

  “And?” she said, feeling her mouth harden. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means he’s ideological,” Richter said, his voice colder. “He also knows people. In fact, love, he knows enough people to likely be aware Lakri’s story about being abducted as a child and thus not knowing his real parentage is nothing but bullshit. He may not know the real story, but rest assured, love, he’s looking into it. Chances are, he’ll make the connection to the rebellion on the home world. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “I thought all of the tapes of those old Retribution matches were destroyed?” Jet said, glancing at Laksri. “Is there any way he could prove who Laksri really is?”

  “We don’t know, pet,” Richter said grimly. “But I’d be willing to bet, proof or no, he’ll eventually uncover enough to figure out Laks knew exactly who he was… long before he was ‘discovered’ in a random genetics test for fertility. Trazen won’t buy the Queen’s story for long after that. He’ll know we’ve all been colluding… even apart from the deal we just made with the usurpers, who are probably more Trazen’s people than ours. If I’m judging him correctly at all, Trazen will dig until he finds out the truth. He’ll eventually uncover who Laks here worked for in the intervening years… which means me, kitten. Which means he’ll know you’re a plant, too, if he doesn’t already.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Jet said. “Would he go public?”

  “He may not have to,” Richter shrugged. “He could try threatening the Queen, but I think it’s more likely he’d go to his pals in the other factions. Get one of them to discredit Laks and make a bid for the throne. He could get rid of the rest of us however he wanted after that.”

  “Could he do that?” Jet said, puzzled. “Put a whole other family on the throne?”

  Richter glanced at Anaze, then Laksri, and sighed.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time the bloodline of succession changed,” he said. “Half of those family trees have some b.s. sprinkled in them, either to cover up some scandal or to legitimize a kid born outside the bloodlines. They rearrange the map every so often to suit their purposes, too. Happens every few thousand years or so… right, Laks?”

  The Nirreth continued to study Jet’s face carefully as he nodded.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Jet looked between them.

  “So what’s the bottom line? Win the match with the mutant? Or? What? Laks here gets killed in his sleep?”

  “Or while he’s awake,” Richter said, giving her a wan smile. “They’ve done public executions before, too, love. Nirreth love a good blood sport, as you know. Whether in the Rings, a Retribution match, or in the town square.”

  Jet nodded, again biting back what she would have liked to say. She knew Richter was deliberately baiting her, probably to keep her from asking the questions she should be asking.

  She’d never in her life met anyone so adept at misdirection.

  As if he could read some portion of her thoughts, Richter chuckled.

  Again, the laugh was warm enough to throw her.

  “Are you saying you can’t beat the throwback, Jet?” Richter said teasingly. “Tell me, if so. I’ve got money pending on the first one-on-one with the two of you.”

  Jet leaned back in her chair, expressionless while Richter laughed again.

  When she glanced over at Laks, that worried look hadn’t left his eyes.

  6

  The Incident

  Jet stepped into the chambers of the First Son of the Royals and sighed, hands on her hips.

  She’d known this room in a different context before she started sharing the space with Laksri. It had been Ogli’s room once, before the little prince was sent away.

  Before Jet murdered his parents.

  Feeling a flicker of nausea at the thought, she pushed it away.

  Since that time, Laksri had most of the previous furniture removed.

  The carpets had been changed out, along with most of the wall-hangings, which had been more appropriate for the child Ogli had been, not a grown male Nirreth who spent most of his adult life working the way Laskri had.

  Sometimes it was difficult to remember what the space looked like before, with Ogli’s brightly-colored clothes and mechanical toys spread all over the carpet, and his pet otter, Scampers, sleeping in the largest of the walk-in closets.

  Even so, Jet had to fight the residual images out of her mind.

  She would have chosen a different room to sleep in, but the room had undeniable advantages. Advantages shared by no other rooms in the palace.

  The big one was the lack of surveillance.

  Surveillance of any kind was illegal in the royal chambers of the First Son. A security team comprised of Nirreth and humans, overseen by Richter––as well as Laksri himself at times––swept the chambers at least twice a day.

  Jet glanced at Laksri, wondering at his silence.

  He remained standing by the door, his normally unexpressive face tighter than usual. Turning away rather than meeting her questioning stare, he began hitting through controls on one of the wall panels, pausing to scan news and security lines with a methodical precision that didn’t mesh with the unfocused look in his eyes.

  As Jet continued to watch him, it occurred to her that he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing at all.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was stalling.

  “Laks?” She quirked an eyebrow humorously. “Something up?”

  There was a pause.

  He turned to face her at the end of it. His dark eyes had re-focused somewhere in that silence. She saw the tension in his body and eyes dissipate as he studied her face, as if remembering her, really seeing her once more.

  Even a
s she thought it, he averted his gaze.

  Immediately, his eyes grew distant again, and that tension began to creep back to his posture and expression. He clenched his long jaw, his elongated features turning to stone as he flicked his tail in a rough curl behind him.

  Then he walked directly to where she stood.

  He moved quickly enough that Jet flinched back… barely.

  She didn’t take her eyes off him as he approached.

  She also didn’t step backwards, even when he moved right into her space, looking down at her with those star-flecked, obsidian eyes. The lighter, blueish bits of color looked brighter than usual, and she found herself thinking it had been a while since he’d stung her.

  The truth was, they’d been running pretty much nonstop since that night after her first Rings match. They’d shared a few interludes since.

  Most had been brief, and for some reason, Laksri had chosen not to go all the way with her, even when Jet made it clear that she wanted to.

  So really, they’d only been together-together the one time.

  Laksri told her, not long after that night, that he wanted to wait before they did it again. He said he didn’t like that they’d been pushed into doing it prematurely for strategic reasons. He said he wanted things to develop more naturally between them.

  What he hadn’t said, but what Jet felt off him at the time––since he’d stung her recently enough for her to feel a good chunk of his thoughts––was that Laks wanted Jet to ask him.

  He wanted her to invite him formally into her bed.

  Somewhat formally, anyway. Nirreth-formal.

  She didn’t get the sense Laksri was insecure, but he seemed to want things to start on the right foot with her.

  It wasn’t the first time Jet got the impression that he was thinking long-term about the two of them, probably more long-term than Jet let herself think about much of anything these days. Laksri acted less like someone who’d just acquired a human pet, and more like he was courting her.

  That should have reassured Jet, and maybe it did.

  It also made her nervous.

  Remembering their one and only real night together didn’t help.