“Vyken,” I whisper, running my palm across my face lightly. “I can’t go back to Earth…”
He pinches the purple bridge of his nose. “If I had not picked you up, you would be in an Earth prison right now, for life, for neglecting your contract with my people. So the Oracle has saved you by sending me to you. It must believe you important.”
“So it doesn’t think I genocided a whole bunch of aliens?” I asked, folding my arms and trying to get him to meet my gaze.
“I suppose I must have misunderstood.”
“Yeah, you think?”
We sit in silence for a moment. There was nothing for me back on Earth, true, but since I did all the things I did so that I didn’t have to live an unplanned life in space with a strange, grumpy purple alien … this hasn’t gone so well.
I’m angry at myself for making whatever stupid mistake it was that led to my being caught.
I’m grateful to whatever the hell this Oracle is, because even though it sent me an impossible and conflicted alien to save me, it did save me from life imprisonment. And it looks as though Vyken has no plans to turn me in to the authorities. Which means he hasn’t even thought twice about adding to his charges -- he is going to keep me safe.
The thought warms up my stomach and I flick my gaze over him as he stares at his screen, and then looks me up and down thoughtfully.
“The Oracle did not want you to be imprisoned,” he says again, thinking out loud. “I don’t know what is going to happen next, Roxie, but are you prepared for dangers?”
He’s asking for my thoughts?
I swallow.
If I choose, technically, to continue with whatever it is this is … it’s still my life. It’s still the life I’ve chosen. And after being passed around from foster parent to foster parent, living a life I have chosen is so important to me. If I turn myself in or try to go back to my planet, it’s life imprisonment against my will, for refusing to live a life of imprisonment against my will. I want this: the great unknown, instead.
So I nod, and in that moment I mean it with everything I am.
“Whatever happens next, Vyken,” I say, “I’m in it one hundred percent. Let’s figure all of this out.”
Chapter Nine
Vyken
I continue to be impressed by the small human woman, more and more so every time she opens her pretty little mouth, in fact.
She is fed and watered and she has given me her word that she will aid me in my quest -- presumably in return for rescuing her from imprisonment. She dodged the Mahdfel DNA Lottery, a crime on Earth punishable by up to 75 years in prison, or simply by sending them to their mate regardless, if they have one. Chances are, though, that this woman does not have a Mahdfel mate. Which makes her punishment all the sadder. These Earth women who dodge the Lottery, I just don’t understand it. Why choose the potential of a life in prison over a life being loved fiercely and protected by a warrior?
This woman beside me is very curious for taking this path. She did not even get tested to see if she had a match. So she chose life in jail over the remote possibility of leaving planet Earth with a Mahdfel. And I, a Mahdfel, snatched her from the face of the Earth regardless. It’s almost ironic.
I wonder if she regrets her choice. I glance over at her and decide against asking. She has been through a lot in a very short time, and she is now sitting in a spaceship wearing a robe that is maybe six sizes too large for her, having agreed to figure out the mystery behind a genocide of a species she has probably never even heard of.
“Do you know about the Ferathorns?” I ask her as we shoot through the void.
“Who?”
She looks so perplexed suddenly, the pretty features on her face twist and it makes me shift in my chair, suddenly uncomfortable. I look away to answer. “The species I am accused of wiping out. They live on Fera, a race of plantlike people who travel the surface of their planet searching for sunlight. They are peaceful but they wish to eradicate the Suhlik threat. To this end, they have allied with my people: the Firosan Mahdfel of Paxia.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see that she still looks completely bemused. I continue anyway.
“I have been accused of wiping their species out, but I believe that it was the Suhlik.”
“I got that bit,” she says, waving her hands through the air. “All of them? Like, as in, there’s no more left?”
I remember how desolate and broken and dry everything on Fera looked when I had been there a few days ago. I swallow bitterly. “I believe so,” I admit. “But it wasn’t me.”
She looks at me for a little while. “I think I believe you,” she says. “I don’t know why, but I think I do. You’re going to some pretty ludicrous lengths to prove your innocence, like follow some mushroom’s instructions and kidnapping a woman from a different planet…”
“Who turned out to be a fugitive, same as me,” I mutter. “And … the Oracle is not a mushroom. Please don’t say that once we land on Fera.” I flick my eyes upwards in irritation. “It doesn’t matter, anyway; the Oracle sees all.”
She giggles a little. “Sorry, Oracle.”
“This is all getting more and more confusing,” I say. She nods a couple of times, flushed with excitement and focusing on what lies ahead, through the glass screen in front of her, rather than what lies behind.
It is refreshing, this attitude, and I find it to be contagious.
“We can figure it out,” she says after a moment. “I think we’re meant to figure this out.”
Meant to? “I wasn’t aware that humans were believers in fate or destiny like that.”
She smiles a little, settling her gaze on me. “Humans are all very different from each other. I never really thought I was into fate or destiny before, but you have to admit … this is all really strange. You saved my life without even meaning to, the very minute you had to. Now some psychic plant brain thinks I’m the key to clearing your name?”
The more she speaks, the more two things happen: I realize that she is right, and it seems that we are currently subject to something larger than ourselves here, and we must play the rest of this situation correctly … but also, I realize how intensely interested I am in what she has to say about all of this.
I have never felt this way about anyone, especially not somebody with less combat training than myself.
“Did we lose your friend or what?” she asks, jerking me from my thoughts.
Tyr. “Yes,” I say with confidence. “There are no ships in the Firosan system or in your solar system that can keep up with the ship you are in right now.”
She laughs. “An hour ago I would have found that ominous.”
I turn to look at her, sitting next to me in my robe, leaning forward to gaze with excitement at the ship’s controls, her cheeks pink and her hair messed up from the day’s events. I find myself longing, perhaps more than I’ve ever longed for anything before, to take her cheek in my hand and press my lips against hers. To feel the softness of her skin with my firm, demanding mouth.
I find myself needing to know if she -- this small yet confident, brave and impressive human -- could ever keep up with me; if she could handle the things I need to give to her.
The thought makes my cock stir underneath my armor and before I can turn to hide my sudden stiffness, I see Roxie’s gaze drop to my lap and then widen. I can’t help but smile slightly at her surprised reaction.
I no longer want to hide myself. Instead I remain seated, confidently, facing her, waiting to see what she will say, or whether she will hide her face from embarrassment.
But she doesn’t. She looks back up at me and raises her eyebrow.
“What are you planning on doing with that?” she asks dryly, and I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.
“You are a very unafraid woman,” I tell her. “You just speak your thoughts.”
“Is that strange to you?”
I look into her beautiful eyes and let out a breath. I want to lean in,
but that would be wrong. I kidnapped her, after all. Driven mad by the desire to get to the bottom of this, and assuming that she was working with the Suhlik, I kidnapped her. The thought is sinking in now. I swore a long time ago to protect others, especially those who found it harder to protect themselves. And I have failed that vow.
Although … I did save her. Even if it was by accident.
I am struggling with the morality of my decisions for the last few days enough as it is; far too much to add the confusion that would arise from my sinking deep inside of this wonderfully sweet-smelling creature.
Paxia help me, though, I want to. I can’t think about anything but spreading her creamy thighs and massaging between her legs until she is slick enough that I can slide right in…
“Are you alright, Vyken?” she asks, grazing her lower lip with her teeth as she watches me stare at her with intent.
“I am,” I tell her, and turn back to the controls. “And we are nearly on Fera. Are you ready?”
“Ready for what, exactly?”
It’s a good question.
“Roxie,” I admit, “I have no idea.”
Chapter Ten
Roxie
Before we land, I need to know more about the Ferathorns. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and I stand and look at myself in the mirror, straightening my messy dark hair with my fingers and wiping away streaks of red dust from the Earth desert from my cheek.
“Of course I would be glad to help you,” the translator AI tells me smoothly. “The Ferathorns are a generally peaceful species--”
“Yeah,” I say. “Vyken told me some of this.” I am mostly curious to know if anything he told me wasn’t true. Maybe then I could help by finding a clue. If I were to solve an intergalactic tragedy, maybe my sentence would be shortened, or dropped altogether.
That’s the plan, anyway. It doesn’t seem too unlikely an outcome to me, but maybe I’m just being optimistic.
“They are known for having one of the most difficult languages to translate. Despite being one of the most treasured allies to the Firosans, who programmed me, it is difficult for me to fully comprehend their tongue.”
“Oh,” I say, not particularly interested in that. “That’s cool. Anything else? Anything about … I don’t know.” I deflate; this was a long shot. It looks like it’s failed.
“Their language consists of high and low tones and accurate pitches so specific that most aliens would never be able to naturally learn how to speak it.”
“Right,” I say, trying not to be impolite to the robot voice in my ear, but not really certain how to continue with this conversation. When I know what to enquire about, maybe I’ll ask more. I exit the bathroom just as we touch down and I feel the cold clutch of nerves in my chest.
But still I strap my sandals back on, tighten my huge robe around my waist, and walk across the metal studded ship’s floor to meet Vyken at the ship’s doors.
“Are you ready?” he asks, looking a little nervous himself. Like me, he has life in prison to worry about right now. I can relate to his fear.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I won’t ever be more ready than I am right now, though.”
This makes his unfairly handsome, solid features twist into a sweet smile that reaches his golden eyes, but then the expression drops from his face as quickly as he arrived, and he pulls in a deep breath.
“Let’s do our best,” he says. “A meaningless platitude, but…” He trails off.
“I understand,” I say, and I think I do. “We can’t do any better than our best!” I have to laugh, the situation is so absurd. All that stands between both of our lives being taken away from us right now is the idea that somehow we can solve a mystery with zero clues, zero leads, zero help.
Both of us giddy with the thought of a life behind bars, we step through the opened door of the Spitfire and step onto the planet Fera, excited and terrified together about what we might find when our feet touch solid ground.
And what we find is perhaps so unsurprising, that it surprises me.
Absolutely nothing.
The ground is cracked and dry, vines and leaves lie scattered over the dirt, brown and curled. Everything is just so very … not alive. I don’t feel death all around me, it’s just a really noticeable absence of life. Nothing is lush or green or sprouting or moving.
Everything is just strewn, dusty, dry.
I step carefully over some cracks, some tangled dry plant matter, and follow Vyken’s confident footfalls as he makes his way to the Oracle. Who, I have to admit, I’m pretty excited to be meeting. We have nothing at all like this back on Earth. I never thought I’d be so interested in exploring outside my home planet -- after all, I think back to all the laws I broke in order to stay put right there -- but so far I’m having a pretty good time, learning a lot about my universe, and not missing a single thing back on that old blue and green marble I call home.
I am surprising myself. And that’s pretty cool.
He guides me downwards, and soon I realize that we are moving into the planet itself. The light from the bright white sun fades and soon everything is dusty, cool, and dark. We wind through stiff roots and then we come to a chamber lit by what I recognize as bioluminescence.
“Oracle,” Vyken demands, and his voice rumbles at the roots above our heads, sending a cluster of dry dirt tumbling onto me. I wipe it off and blow air at my bangs.
When the glowing orb of tiered fungus lights up fully, I feel a presence tingling at the base of my skull and a voice all around me; inside me, I don’t know.
“Vyken and Roxie,” it says in perfect English. I don’t know if that’s due to my translator or the Oracle itself, and it doesn’t really matter. I’m in over my head now, drowning in alien tech and impossible beings of light and power. And it’s only day one of my space adventure.
To be honest, screw Earth at this point. My adrenaline is soaring sky high right now and I don’t see how I could ever go back to being a lounge singer at a dim little bar right now.
“What is our mission now?” Vyken asks, and I can feel next to me that he is all tension and impatience. I don’t blame him.
The glowing orb brightens and then dims, almost like it’s taking a deep breath before ‘speaking’, and it interests me to watch.
“Nothing yet. You will have to wait for it.”
“For what?” It’s my turn to speak, and its light judders momentarily, as if surprised that I’d address it.
“You’ll know.” A beat. “You’ll have to excuse me. I am exhausted by the fate of my people. I must stop speaking.”
The light dims considerably and I turn to Vyken, eyes wide. He clears his throat. “Well, but we really don’t know what it is we’re supposed to--”
“You will.”
Vyken turns to face me and runs a hand over his jaw, looking concerned but like he doesn’t want me to know how much. “The Oracle is never wrong,” he explains, and his voice is hoarse with a thousand harsher things he is leaving unsaid. I appreciate it, actually. Although I see exactly where he’d be coming from, it wouldn’t be helpful to curse and damn everything. Restraint and level-headedness are actually qualities I am particularly drawn to.
In humans, anyway. I turn away from Vyken with a blush as all sorts of thoughts creep into my head. If he were human? Sure, I’d date him.
Ugh, no, I’d do more than that. I’d let him pick me up with that insane upper body of his and push me against the wall of his spaceship … press himself against me so I could feel every impossibly hard ridge of his body…
I snap myself out of it. Not so much because I’m about to have a vivid fantasy about a man who is walking right in front of me, but mostly because I realize a big part of that doesn’t appeal to me. Vyken as a human doesn’t exist. Human men don’t have those values. They certainly don’t have his build.
I might just have to suck it up and admit to myself that I’m attracted to an alien. What is wrong with me?
We emerge onto the planet’s surface and already the sun has halfway dipped below the horizon. “Days here are a little shorter than Paxia or Earth days,” Vyken mutters, as much to remind himself as to educate me. “It will get very cold shortly. The Ferathorns move themselves below the surface for the chill weather and travel back up again when the sun is out to photosynthesize.”
I nod, only half listening. “Right, so we should get ourselves warm,” I say. “In the ship?”
He opens his mouth to speak, his perfect lips parted and his harsh golden gaze in the middle distance. “I don’t know about that, Roxie,” he growls. “That’s the first target if we find ourselves, you know … targeted.”
Right.
“We’ll utilize a tent.”
A tent? “Will that be warm enough?” Cold wind sweeps across my skin as I speak and he sighs in response.
“Yes, for me. I don’t know anything about optimum human conditions, but I have never seen Cara or Alyssa require more than an extra layer of clothing on our planet. You will be alright if I am.”
I don’t know how encouraged I am by that, but it’s more than nothing.
I follow him into a secluded area. Twisted roots and branches so devoid of life they could be made of stone curl in archways above us and twirl across our path, intertwined. We duck under and hop over them until we find a patch big enough for his two-person tent, which he pulls from the belt of his military uniform. It’s just a tight tube of lycra-looking material, and he presses a tiny button on it and tosses it at the space on the ground, motioning for me to get away. I do.
It inflates like a balloon, finding its shape and forming walls and a curved roof, and then sitting proudly on the dirt floor. It flickers lightly and then it changes its hue to match the grey-brown surroundings. I raise my eyes, impressed. It even has a couple of streaks across it like shadows.
“Well done, aliens,” I say. “Your stuff is all pretty cool.”
Vyken: (Warriors of Firosa Book 3) Page 4