Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles)
Page 1
The Alarai Chronicles
Book One:
EXILE TO THE STARS
Dale B. Mattheis
Ardent Publishing
Northfield, Minnesota
Ardent Publishing
Northfield, MN 55057 USA
http://www.ardentpublishing.com/
This is a work of fiction. All characters, plot configurations, dialog and incidents spring solely from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed in any other manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2012 by Dale B. Mattheis
ISBN: 978-0-9705430-4-2
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover design by Lightbourne
Cover Art by Bleu Turrell
Print History:
Hardcover: December, 2002
Trade edition: May, 2008
Smashwords edition: September 2012
Dedication
Like the hardcover and paperback
versions, this edition is dedicated
to those who travel light and
seek distant horizons. May your
imagination never fail, your shoes
never wear out, and your eBook
reader batteries never need
recharging
Acknowledgments
Now, after hard back and paperback
versions of EXILE have been published,
it is time for the ebook edition. It must
also be said that the publication of this
edition was largely prompted by queries
from readers. Those queries got me
off the mark. Thank you, one and all.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
About the Author
Map of Aketti
For more maps of Arvalia and Aketti, go to the Ardent Publishing website
Prologue
Stretching north and south, Broadway glistened black. Rivulets of water curled around debris littering the street to join streams coursing toward storm drains. Many were clogged. Water overflowed curbs, leaving sections of broken sidewalk covered in deep pools. Cars passed with no more sound than the hissing of tires and click of windshield wipers.
Up and down Broadway, garish signs advertised evening pleasures. A few strobed brilliant images over the sidewalk: wrestlers, nude women and men, animals and women. Most signs stuttered and blinked in the random patterns of burned out neon, casting kaleidoscope fantasies on sidewalks.
Groups of people hurried toward one tavern or the other. There were no singles visible on the street. Swinging wide to avoid an alley, members of one group muttered disgust at an emaciated figure lying face down near an overflowing dumpster. It was a partially clothed man.
Sirens blared in the distance, some nearby. To the west, the tops of Seattle skyscrapers were visible. Some ways north, what could have been a fire flickered orange shadows on clouds hanging low overhead. It was not a holiday, but a distant crackle sounded like fireworks.
A city bus with small windows and side panels constructed of armor grade steel ground to a halt near one tavern. A bright pink and green cube suddenly flared to life over the tavern entrance. Seconds later a naked man seemed to leap from the cube and race across the street twenty feet up. A second man with horns sprouting from his head followed and impaled the first with a trident. The cube disappeared leaving a single word in crimson: Lucifer’s.
The rear door of the bus snapped open and a lone man jumped to the sidewalk. Gripping a long rectangular box, he made a dash for the tavern and disappeared inside.
Chapter One
An Unusually Bad Day
“Sock it home, citizen!”
A pizza spun onto the table throwing a circle of oil. Seated at the table, a man in his twenties jerked upright off his elbows.
“Good shot. Missed the beer.”
“Ready for the big time, compadre.”
“What’s the tempo, Paddy? Any mercenaries show?”
The waiter leaned down to wipe up the oil and also to be heard without shouting. The decibel level had a stein of beer vibrating on the table.
“One merc, Jeff. Gado came in a few minutes ago.”
“Now there’s a beautiful man. On his own or running in a pack?”
“Solo scout. Probably won’t move until he has a quorum, but you can’t tell. He’s flying high and ragged. Watch your back.” The waiter hurried off through a haze of tobacco and pot smoke.
Jeff Friedrick scanned the bar and dance floor for threat. Lances of brilliant color stabbed out in psychedelic patterns to illuminate brief glimpses of determined smiles. It was Friday evening and time to blow off the stress of a long week. Standing up to see better, Jeff felt his shirt flutter as banks of speakers slammed out a new beat. Someone gave him a shove from behind and he stumbled forward a step.
“Shove off, malcrap.”
Catching himself, Jeff whirled to find a woman pulling his chair out to sit down. The woman and her two companions had shaved heads and were dressed in black costumes with high collars. Long, surgically implanted canine teeth glinted white in contrast to carmine lips.
“The table’s taken, freak. Suck blood somewhere else.”
With a sweep of his foot Jeff kicked the chair out from under the woman, sending her to the floor. She leaped to her feet with an oath and aimed a kick at his crotch.
Stepping aside, Jeff grabbed the leg and heaved. Arms flailing, she flew into the women behind her. They caught her and staggered backward to fall on top of a nearby table occupied by three men and a number of beer pitchers. Two of the men leaped up and began throwing punches while the third tried to save the last pitcher with beer in it.
A bouncer and several armed guards bulled through the crowd and waded into the fight. One of the women hit a guard flush on the head with a pitcher, which shattered. The guard reeled back then came in low.
Picking up his chair, Jeff watched the action with the sense of a job well done. It looked to be a decent match. He caught the glint of something coming his way.
“Shit!”
Snatching up the pizza, Jeff ducked away as a beer pitcher struck the table edge and dissolved in a burst of glass shards. Grinning over at the fight, he wiped glass off the table with a napkin. A furious scream was abruptly cut off by a solid thud.
Jeff winced, but his grin broadened. “Take it outside, dildos.”
An a
mplified voice blasted from the overhead PA system, “Hey hey, mals and fems! Here they are! Live from Twisted City, let’s hear it for Lick and Swallow!”
The roar of approval was blown away when someone turned the volume up, filling the tavern to bursting with throbbing sound. Then it was gone, the sudden absence of music as shocking as its presence. The bouncers had control of the fight, and crowd noise dwindled as Jeff teased a wedge of pizza free.
An incandescent cone of light seared onto a raised platform. Audio pickups and projectors mounted around the tavern began to swivel and flex. In the blink of an eye she was there. Perfect golden body and no clothing but skin. Holding her arms up, she pirouetted.
“You going to get deep tonight? You losers good enough?”
Shouts and whistles, high-pitched and low, were drowned out by a bass line as old as burlesque. Gyrating and bumping, she was abruptly joined by an equally perfect male. Thrusting his hips in time to the music, he leered out over the crowd.
“Let’s get it on!”
The music segued into a driving beat, and the dancers plastered their bodies together in a writhing mass. Leaping from the stage, Lick and Swallow reappeared on separate tabletops. Hands reached up to feel and probe, but the dancers paused for only a moment before jumping to the next table.
Someone yanked a chair from his table and Jeff turned quickly to see who it was. The dils had not gone easily into the night.
“Dammit, Carl, give me some warning! Where you been?”
Blond hair fell over Carl’s eyes when he sat down. He flicked it away with an impatient twitch. “Hell of a time getting here. Damn near civil war going on out there. Cops had two blocks sealed off just south of here. What you so uptight about?”
“Paddy told me Gado’s scouting.”
“It figures,” Carl replied with a grimace. “Friday night, and that bastard will wait until some poor slob is drunk on his ass trying to unwind.” He glanced at the litter of broken glass. “I see things are getting an early start.”
“Some dils tried to muscle in on our table. Managed to get themselves bounced.”
“With a little help?”
Their table lit up with eye-searing brilliance and breasts were swinging in front of Jeff’s face. Looking up, he gazed into blue eyes that were so real he could read the emptiness behind them. Red lips touched his, making his face tingle.
“Nice buzz, stud. Mama likes those green lamps!” Bright electronic laughter speared Jeff’s ears. “C’mon, grab a tit. Probably all you can do.”
“Flick off, deadhead. Show me the real thing and I’ll consider it.”
Whistles and applause sounded from nearby tables. A feminine voice shrilled, “Hang it on her, hairy male!”
An opalescent corona shimmering around her body, the dancer squatted and thrust her pelvis into his face.
“Ooh, little boy wants Mama.”
Jeff felt a tugging sensation then raw lust as her hips moved over his head. Pushing back from the table, he growled, “Screw off. Go fuck with someone else’s head.”
Laughing wildly, she was gone and Jeff pulled his chair up to the table. “Those holos get any better, you won’t be able to tell the difference. Damn, what a crotch shot!”
“You complaining?” Carl grinned and slapped Jeff on the back. “Maybe not such a bad idea. Things might really get interesting. You know, go to your local holo store and check out a woman for the night?”
“I like it.” Jeff tossed a wedge of pizza to Carl. “Eat up and let’s move it, Norsky. Big doings at the shuffle palace.”
“You got that right,” Carl said, jamming half the wedge in his mouth. “I can hardly wait. Lot of talk about tonight—might have a real crowd!”
The noise level made conversation difficult and they finished the pizza in silence. Lick and Swallow had the place ragging hard. Carl slugged down the last of his beer and unfolded from the chair.
“Come on, runt.”
Extracting a long wooden case from under the table, Jeff stood up. Carl topped Jeff’s six feet by a good three inches and was so lanky he seemed taller.
“Where’s your toothpick, Carl?”
“Out in the car. No way I was going to bring it in here.”
“Good move. Hope we can make it out the door with mine.”
Jeff looped the carrying strap over his shoulder and they sidled toward the door. At the bar, a man turned his head and watched them go. He was tall, and a brief flare of light revealed reddish hair. Before the spotlight moved on, odd points of light deep in green eyes gave the impression of motion although he was staring fixedly at Jeff and Carl. When they disappeared into the crowd he tipped his stein up for a drink.
“He’s almost there, but it’s going to be close. If only I could just say hello.” He took another swallow. “But I can’t.”
Jeff and Carl were nearly to the door when a hand gripped Jeff’s shoulder.
“Hold it, Friedrick. Running out?”
Brushing the hand away, Jeff turned to confront a rat-faced man of about his height. Gado. His pupils were pinpoints, and spittle had dried to white foam at the corners of his mouth.
“Go find a drunk, merc. That’s more your style.”
“Hear you won the regionals, Friedrick, but that’s the way it is with you college boys—no guts for the real thing.” Gado giggled and gave the wooden case a shove. “Make you feel like something to carry it around?”
“One of these days soon,” Jeff replied in a coldly level voice. “Just keep showing up.” He pushed through the circle of bystanders that had gathered.
“Hey now, look at him go. Friedrick’s on the run. Looks like a whipped weenie dog, don’t he?”
Anger flashed, stopping Jeff in his tracks. Grabbing his arm, Carl dragged Jeff along to the entrance where they stopped to zip jackets.
“Cool down, buddy. Gado isn’t worth it.”
“I keep coming here and I’ll slice that cock sucker,” Jeff grated. “He’s been pushing me for months. I think it’s about time for show and tell. Why the hell not? Maybe that’s the only thing that counts anymore.”
“We got to keep muckin’, boy; keep the faith.”
“Isn’t anything else left.” Jeff glanced out the door. “Nice night.”
“What else? Cold and wet.” Carl let out a snort. “Ah, Seattle. Emerald City of Dreams.”
“Yep,” Jeff said with a grudging laugh, “home to the starving and privileged.” He put his face close to the armored glass and peered up and down the street. “Where’d you park that cybernetic chlorox bottle you call a car?”
“Around the corner, dork. You ready?”
“Let’s do it. You get the door, I’ll rearguard. Keep your eyes open for those dils that got bounced.”
Outside, Carl checked the street in both directions and ran south. Clamping the case against his side, Jeff took off after him but stayed four or five feet behind. The only light came from a few streetlights that still functioned. The rest were dark with broken or cracked lenses. Carl dashed around a corner and Jeff put on a burst of speed to catch him.
“Let’s do it quick, Jeff!”
Carl yanked his access card from a slot under the door handle. A relief valve popped, both doors shot into the roof and Carl slipped inside in one smooth motion. Jeff had to deal with the case, which slowed him down.
“Clear!”
Hydraulic pumps whined, the doors snapped shut and locks thumped home. Punching numbers into a keypad on the dash, Carl enabled the fuel cell. A low-pitched whine gradually built in volume. Lifting free of suspension stops, the Ford leveled itself while Carl’s fingers flew across switches on the dash. An orange display materialized low on the windshield and a red light blinked rapidly, accompanied by an electronic voice.
“Reset, please.”
“Rapid sequence reset, feature Capitol Hill and University District.”
A map of Seattle scrolled across the heads-up display. Icons sprang to life at several locations.
“This is the Police Information Network, Friday evening, Twenty-one March, 2025. Citizens are strongly cautioned to remain indoors. Civil unrest is reported on Capitol Hill off Broadway, intersections Roy and Aloha. Aurora Avenue has been closed at Greenlake, fire…”
Lifting his finger from the PIN switch, Carl pulled out onto Broadway. “Civil unrest, my ass. What they mean is riot.”
After a period of tense observation that revealed no threat, the men relaxed.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about that sword of yours for some time, Jeff. How about some history? Seen a lot of sabers in the fifteen years I’ve been around fencing, but have yet to come across one that gives me the same sense as yours. It seems regulation normal, but every time I handle it I come away wondering if it’s a saber at all. The balance is exquisite. In the two years we’ve been knocking around together, you haven’t said a word about it. What gives?”
Jeff considered the question while Carl wove the Ford around deep potholes and patches of glass that littered the street.
“Probably haven’t said anything because it’s just a normal part of life. Had that sword since I was a kid.” Jeff examined the sidewalks and street with intent concentration, then chuckled. “In fact, now that I think about it, I feel naked when it isn’t with me.”
“Might look a little funny if you brought it to your classes,” Carl responded, throwing a broad grin at Jeff.
“Yeah, but damn, what a teaching tool.”
Releasing a snort of laughter, Carl intoned, “What? Your paper isn’t done? Off with your head!”
Blurred figures running across the street a block ahead caught Jeff’s eye. “Hang a right, Carl. Don’t like the looks of that.” Blue and yellow lights suddenly strobed the night, quickly followed by a muted popping. “Shit! That’s gunfire! Make it quick!”
Nearly past the intersection, Carl flicked the steering yoke hard over and the Ford lurched around the corner, gyros whining protest. Half expecting a setup, they quickly checked out the street. Empty.
“Things get any worse,” Carl muttered, “and it’ll be worth your life to drive after dark.”