Vyken
An Alien Sci-Fi Romance
*
Starr Huntress
Thanika Hearth
Copyright © 2017 Thanika Hearth
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The following contains adult themes. All characters are aged 18 or over.
Read these books in order for the best experience. Light spoilers for past books to be expected!
Wrax
Tyr
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 One
Roxie
You hear stories all the time. Crazy stories. And we like to listen to them, read them, talk about them, because deep down we believe these things are never, ever going to happen to us.
But sometimes they do.
One minute, after all, I’m wandering lost in the desert a thousand miles away from home in nothing but a spangly sky blue bikini, sarong and flip flops, scrambling over clay red rocks and wiping sweat from my eyes and wishing I wasn’t so damn stupid.
The next minute a flying object -- it’s not a UFO because I can identify it; it’s Mahdfel military, an alien fighter ship from galaxies away -- descends several feet from my thirsty, trembling body and blows sand around. Sand that I’m certain I will continue to find in my hair for years to come.
Out of the ship hops an enormous purple-skinned warrior alien. He wears nothing but rough-looking pants and his bare, colorful chest is criss-crossed in a light spiderweb of scars. I recognize the pants, I realize, from media reports that come from a Mahdfel planet Earth women are starting to be sent to.
It’s a prisoner uniform from one of the more feral colonies in the galaxy.
“What the hell is--” I begin, but my demanding, authoritative tone descends into a squeak as the alien fugitive storms towards me with a look of pure determination on his feral face. He tosses me over his firm, toned shoulder and I dangle and scream and kick as he effortlessly walks me back into his fighter ship.
I watch, my hands pressed against the glass and my mouth open, as Earth drops away from us, and I realize with a sickening lurch -- that may have something to do with the speed we are rising at -- that nobody is going to even wonder where I am.
Because, thanks to my stupid scheme, everyone on Earth thinks I’m already dead.
Chapter Two
Vyken
One Week Earlier...
“Admiral is certainly a pressure-filled position,” Tyr is informing me, bringing the glass of hot fermented wine to his lips. Over the gigantic military man’s purple shoulder, the Paxian bar buzzes with other plum-colored lifeforms. All male. All vibrating with barely-contained testosterone.
Now that women were starting to populate the planet again -- to a small extent -- the Firosan Mahdfel warriors had been obviously desperate to claim a human woman of their very own.
But me? I swirl my own hot wine around on my tongue, delighting in the contradiction of its sharp numbness. I just do not know if I want a mate at all, really. At least not yet. I have some thinking to do before I sign up for the lottery.
I believe I still must prove that I am worthy of my new position. Once Tyr was promoted to Admiral of the entire Firosan military, it was I who moved up to General to fill the large shoes of the man -- boss and friend both -- who sits in front of me now.
“But you love it?” I reply once I have swallowed, feeling the heat bloom in my throat and stomach.
Tyr smirks, averting his gaze.
I know exactly what is entering his mind: his human mate. Alyssa is certainly and undeniably beautiful, for an alien, but she does absolutely nothing for me in that way. I have come to the conclusion that I am just not attracted to humans.
It’s a terrible shame that I will not be able to pass down my superior genepool to the future generation, and I have considered joining the Lottery to find an Earth mate if just to create the future’s finest warriors, but I just don’t want the responsibility of a mate I will not be fiercely and intensely attracted to. It is simply not fair on her.
I do not wish to create my children the way my father did, or his before me. My children, if they are brought into existence, will not be accidental. They will be born of a kind of passion I cannot bear to deny myself. They will be born of love.
So, more likely, they will not be born at all.
And I don’t believe that an algorithm, no matter if it is one as complex as that of the DNA Lottery, can find something like my fated love.
“I’ve been trying to spend as much time as I can aboard the Spitfire, but there are many things that require my attention planetside. I am lucky that Alyssa is so understanding as to allow me to shuttle her back and forth,” Tyr is saying. I snap my attention back to him and raise my brows to show that I am listening. The spiced wine is starting to go to my head already. “If you want to stay in ships all your life I recommend you get promoted no higher than General.”
This elicits a bitter chuckle from me.
“I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about that. With my history I’m surprised they promoted me at all,” I point out. I wouldn’t say I have a problem with authority, as such -- although I have always worked under Tyr, a man I would trust with the lives of everyone I know, so perhaps I am just lucky -- but I do have the tendency to make rapid and controversial decisions. So far they have always worked out in my favor, and we won the Suhlik wars, after all, but who knows what trouble my rash behavior might get me in in the future?
I can’t wait to find out.
The evening passes as a succession of increasingly more tasteless wines, and quickly becomes a blur, and then a haze. The time for Tyr’s news, the reason he wanted to drink with Axion and I, comes and goes, and all I remember is my heartfelt agreement to whatever he proposed.
And I remember the second piece of news. Alyssa is pregnant.
My old war buddy and my respected superior truly has it all now. The job, the ship, the woman, and now the family. Something that very few of us warriors are ever going to have. He has it.
I remember one more thing through the fog of our rambunctious and laughter-filled night. Somewhere around drink seven I realize that I want it all too. I have my ideal title and career. I might even get my own ship in the near future.
Around drink eight I eagerly and giddily sign up for the Earth Lottery. In that moment, I truly want what Tyr has.
Around drink nine, however, is when I wholeheartedly agree to my first serious mission as General.
Through the numbing alcohol in my blood and in my mind, the two events blend into one. And I am very aware, on a molecular level, that one of these two things is likely to destroy my life in a way I can never come back from.
Chapter Three
Vyken
I wake up uncl
othed, covered only in a thick and warm fur in Tyr’s apartment in Paxia. I know immediately where I am because the Admiral’s home is minimalistic, to say the least. The only furniture is purely for practicality, since the couple spends most of their time on their ship.
My mouth is painfully dry and my forehead feels bruised, though I have no idea why. I cannot remember the last time I drank that much … at least not since my adolescence.
It was the look in Tyr’s eyes that drove me to look into the bottom of several glasses. That utter fulfillment. That pure, unbridled happiness.
I was jealous.
And then it comes back to me in a rush. In the space of just a few minutes (in my unreliable memory, anyhow) I accepted a life-threatening mission, the details of which I cannot recall for the life of me, and I also signed up for the Earth Lottery.
I quickly scrabble for my holo tablet and check, and then wince to see that my memory was correct about the latter, at least.
With the fur blanket wrapped tight around my waist, I pour myself a huge glass of water and drink more angrily than I have before. At that moment, Alyssa, dressed in Earth sleepwear and looking groggy but glowing with happiness, walks in and stops short when she sees me.
“Oh, Vyken!” she laughs, and shakes her head with surprise. I avert my gaze out of something akin to embarrassment … but not quite. She can see my bare chest, but I have nothing to be ashamed of, other than the crisscross of needle-thin scars that run over my left side. Battle scars. Being mated with Tyr, I know she understands things like that.
“Congratulations,” I say gruffly. I am sure she will interpret my tone as uncaring, and I don’t intend to correct her. Actually, I am a little jealous still. It seems the effects of the drinks last night haven’t quite worn off.
“Thank you,” she says, and I note how serene she seems.
I finish my water and she returns to her bedroom to give me the space to dress myself again. Once I am decent, Tyr slips out of the bedroom with a smile on his face that almost annoys me.
“Thank you for last night,” he says, and the contented rumble of his voice gives away that he is nowhere near as affected by the evening as I appear to be.
“Sure,” I say dismissively, and then I look at him sideways. “What are you thanking me for?”
“You accepted the job I gave you without your trademark tirade of questions,” he says.
I pause, regarding my old friend.
“Remind me,” I say, “what exactly I agreed to?”
He laughs as if I am joking. “You are to take a ship and a crew to the planet Fera. You will seek out our old allies, the Ferathorns, and ensure that they will still uphold their promise to fight by our side in the upcoming war against the Suhlik.” He pauses, and seeing nothing light up in my eyes, carries on. “We haven’t had any contact with them in five years so it’s a recon mission. It’s safe, Vyken.”
I scoff at that. “I am not worried about th--”
“Of course,” he cuts in. “It’s a necessary mission, and probably a boring one. We need to ensure they are still our allies. That they are still able to fight. I see no reason why not. That’s why this is laughably simple,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder amicably. “Your first real mission as General. I assure you, this will be the easiest thing you’ll ever have to do in your long career.”
I smile. “Absolutely,” I say. “Laughably simple.”
With that, I gather my few things, and leave to catch a hovercab to my own accommodation.
Hopefully this mission won’t be too boring.
*
I come back to consciousness with a start.
It’s impossible to explain, but I feel as though I have been walking around, a zombie, for some time, but I can’t quite grip onto any memories since that morning at Tyr’s house.
Cara, the mate of the king of Paxia and the woman responsible for the reformation of our justice system, paces in front of me.
I realize I am in some sort of booth, on a seat, staring out at a sea of sombre purple faces. I feel very on display. Cara is speaking and it takes some time for the ringing in my ears to subside, and the beating of my heart to slow enough that I can hear what she is saying to me.
“... guilty on one count of genocide.” She stops pacing and turns to me, her eyes wild and her hands on her hips. “How do you wish to answer, Vyken?”
I clear my throat. “What … what do you mean?”
She flicks her eyes to the ceiling and then back to me, clearly angry. But why? “Like I said, Vyken … you stand accused of wiping out the entire Ferathorn race.” The venom in her face falls away for a moment and she just shakes her head slightly. “We just want to know why. How did the Suhlik convince you?”
I fight to think of a single word to say, but I find nothing.
What is going on here?
She presses a small button on the panel around her wrist and behind me a moving image appears on the wall. I crane my neck to see.
Sound fizzles in to join the picture, and I see what it is I’m looking at -- and it’s impossible.
It’s me, arms folded in defiance, mouth upturned into a smirk, in Tyr’s office.
“It was me,” the me on-screen says, with pride and with malice. “I killed them all. They’re dead.”
Poor Tyr, my friend and my ally, pinches the bridge of his nose and bends over. “Not you too,” he says from behind his desk, and knowing the betrayal he must have experienced feels like a heavy punch to the chest. “Vyken … why?”
The video ends and I turn back with wide eyes to Cara.
“If you have nothing to say, I’ll move to put you back in jail until you’re ready,” she says calmly.
She has no idea to what extent I have nothing to say.
“Th-that wasn’t me,” I find myself forcing from my throat.
“What a weak defense,” someone in the large audience splutters. They all look so angry at me. This isn’t what I want. I joined the Firosan military to serve. To protect my people with everything I have.
What in the name of Paxia and her moons is happening here?
I know one thing, if I don’t know anything else. As I’m led away in handcuffs, bewildered, and ignoring the glares from people I know and people I’ve never met, I know one thing for sure.
I’m going to break out of jail tonight, and then I’m going to figure this out.
Even if it takes me the rest of my lifetime, I am going to clear my name.
Chapter Four
Roxie
The sun beats down on my pale, slight body, clad only in my simple and cheap blue bikini. The beach towel beneath me is threadbare and scratchy from weeks of picking up sand, but I don’t care.
I’m free.
I’m more free than anyone could ever be in their lifetime. You know why? Because, in the eyes of the law, I’m a dead woman.
And I’ve never felt more alive.
“Would you like another drink, miss?”
I look up at the bright white smile of the tanned waiter. He has been leering at me like this all day, but I’m not interested. I ran away from my life because I didn’t want a man, after all.
Screw that Mahdfel Lottery. Nobody has the right to tell me what to do with my body, or what not to do. I am going to live the life I want to live. It might suck, it might be dreadful just as soon as I run out of money -- which, if I keep sucking down these cocktails, won’t be long at all -- but it will be my choice.
And that’s what I’ve always been about. I’m not going to stop now just because my stupid planet has some kind of debt to some purple steroid-heads.
Not my problem, sorry.
I do the smart thing and I refuse my second drink. One fruity cocktail has given me a nice faint tingle, but two might just make me give off some ‘come hit on me’ vibes, and I’m not in the mood.
It was weirdly easy to fake my own death and grab a new identity from the black market. Nobody is going to be able to find me now. I am neve
r going to be forced to live the life of an alien warrior wife.
For a second, as I get up and walk around, securing a cute sarong around my waist, I get the feeling someone says my name.
“Roxie.”
But that’s impossible.
My heartbeat returns to normal swiftly -- no one can find me here. It just isn’t going to happen. The things I had to go through to get a new identity and come here? My new name is Jetta Gryffin, which I just thought was so cool I had to go for it. I must remember to stop answering to Roxie and only answer to ‘Jetta’ from now on.
Because Roxie? She’s dead now.
My new life has begun, and so far, I’m loving it.
Well … sort of?
It might take me a little while to adjust.
I hear it again. Roxie. But this time I don’t turn around. Roxie is gone. I lower my eyes and keep walking, knowing there’s no way anyone knows I’m here; trying my best to convince myself of that fact.
But what if I’m wrong?
What if my runaway attempt has failed and I have to go live my life for someone else? I dare to glance up at the picturesque blue sky and squint, but I cannot see a single star -- of course I can’t. I don’t want to go there.
Roxie.
Before I know what I’m doing, I break into a run, away from the cabana and the hotel and the deck chairs, and towards the harsher, non-touristy places. The red dust and sand of the deserts. The cold sweat of pure fear breaks out on my skin and my limbs tingle and buzz.
And once I start running, I can’t stop.
Chapter Five
Vyken
I release the last of four guards from the sleeper hold and brush my prison uniform off. Cara implemented a new outfit to distinguish between the prisoners and the guards, so I am now wearing simple sackcloth pants bound tight to my purple waist with rope, unlike the armored furs of the guard I am lowering to the ground.
“Apologies,” I growl to his snoozing body. “If I were supposed to be here, I would not have fought to leave.”
Vyken: (Warriors of Firosa Book 3) Page 1