The Mythmakers: An Impulse Power Story

by Robert Appleton

  “You’re not going to stand over my shoulder, make sure I do it right?”

  Syna laughed. “Oh no. I’m not getting close to you again until I’m certain you’re out of reach of everything fragile.”

  With the fate of the galaxy at risk, love may not be enough…

  Starjacked

  © 2009 Karin Shah

  In the lawless fringes of deep space, pirate Tia Sen has a rep for being hard as plascrete, tough as Amalan leather, and as strong as she is beautiful. She also has a secret that courts death: For years she has been freeing enslaved children. Stepping in to rescue a valiant mechanic from a near-fatal beating risks more than her life. Thanks to her traitorous heart, her web of lies is in danger of unraveling.

  Undercover operative Rork Al’Ren is no stranger to lies. Emotionally scarred by the murders of his wife and unborn child, he wants nothing more than to eradicate every bit of pirate scum in the galaxy. Then his mission goes sour, and he finds himself Tia’s personal slave—and falling in love with the very pirate he’s sworn to destroy.

  Yet love is a luxury he can’t afford. Tia possesses a powerful new weapon that could overwhelm the Union of Planets and plunge the galaxy into war.

  If Rork can’t convince her to surrender it, he may have to break her trust—and her heart.

  Warning: This title contains sensual love scenes and kick-ass, nail-biting action. May cause reckless behavior, lapses into daydreams, belief in happily-ever-afters, and is certainly habit-forming.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Starjacked:

  The engine-room door slid open and Luble came inside, drawing their attention. He held a piece of paper in his hand. “The following slaves are to come to me.” He read slowly from the list and soon a group of slaves stood around him. Kaber exchanged a glance with Tia, and the blonde strode forward. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m on a spy hunt. Captain Sen asked me to question the slaves from escape pod Alpha.”

  Rork stiffened slightly. This could get ugly.

  Tia nodded. “Well, get on with it.”

  The questioning went quickly, at first. The new slaves were too frightened to do more than answer the Coian to the best of their abilities.

  But Luble grew increasingly agitated as each slave was dismissed, and when he came to a tall, brown-haired human, he seemed to snap, burying his blue fist in the man’s stomach. The human fell to his knees, choking from the pain.

  Rork barely restrained himself from attacking the Coian. He took a step, but Kaber’s hand on his arm reminded him where he was. She gave him a warning look.

  “I am going to get some answers,” growled Luble as he paced in front of the slaves. “Or someone’s going to die.” He grabbed the kneeling man by the shoulders and kneed him in the groin. He slid to the floor, but Luble wasn’t finished. “You’re the spy! Admit it!”

  Anger and fear burned in Rork. What could he do? If he stepped forward, he would be killed. But if he didn’t, an innocent man might be beaten to death before his eyes.

  Luble kicked the human on the floor. As the man cried out, Rork made his decision, but before he could shrug off Kaber’s meaty hand, Tia spoke. “That’s enough, Luble.”

  The Coian turned to Tia. “What are you? A spy lover now? You were awful cozy with that Union scum Captain Sen flushed into space.”

  Rork’s eyes flashed to Tia’s face. The man the other pirate was talking about could only have been John.

  “Tia wasn’t even here when that happened, Luble,” Kaber interjected.

  “Oh, yes,” Luble sneered. “You were off on one of your convenient little ‘trips’.”

  Tia’s voice was calm. “My father ordered you to question the slaves, not kill them. Dead men don’t turn over spies and they don’t run engines, or bring in any credits either.”

  “Your father’s not here now.”

  Tia tilted her head. “Are you challenging me?”

  Luble turned, as if backing down, then spun back, a laserblade glowing in his hand. He cut a streak of blue fire in the air. “Yes!”

  Rork held his breath.

  Tia leaned back out of the way of the blade and it went skimming past. A laserblade appeared in her hand. “Good. I was hoping you would.”

  The slaves scattered out of the way. Kaber dragged Rork, his heart thudding madly, back against the pipe-lined wall.

  “Get him, Tia!” she called, as Tia dodged Luble’s second laserblade thrust, a lithe blur of lean strength and flying blonde braids. She grinned, white teeth flashing in the inadequate light, but it was more of a primitive baring of teeth.

  She was magnificent.

  Luble thrust again, but Tia was ready. In the blink of an eye, she blocked up with her forearm, forcing his knife hand high into the air. Sliding her arm behind Luble’s elbow, she managed to lock his arm. His weapon out of play, she brought up hers and placed it at his throat. The blue light cast by her blade turned the Coian’s face into a grotesque skull. He turned his head aside, but didn’t speak.

  “Yield or die.” Tia moved her blade closer to the artery pulsing in his neck.

  Luble met her eyes with a flash of hate, before looking around the room. “I yield,” he muttered at last.

  Tia scooped his laserblade off the floor and slipped the weapon in her pocket. “You can tell my father I’ll do the questioning from now on.”

  Luble, still breathing heavily from the fight, nodded shortly, then left.

  Tia looked about the room. “Get back to work. Kaber, can you take over?”

  “Aye.” Kaber nodded.

  Tia gestured toward Rork. “Ren, come with me.”

  Neither of them spoke as they made their way back to Tia’s cabin, and Rork was infinitely conscious of the sound of Tia’s breathing and the warm smell of exertion that hovered around her.

  When the door to the cabin slid open, Tia headed into the bathroom. Rork glanced at the open door to the corridor, fingered the collar he wore and closed the door. There would be other, better opportunities to escape.

  The hiss of the shower abruptly flooded the room. The Tiger was only equipped with water showers, and Rork fought off the image of soapy water flowing over the perfect body he knew was beneath Tia’s clothing. Rork heard a sensual groan over the sound of the water, and his body hardened as his imagination wandered into forbidden territory. In his mind he could see the pink nipples that crowned her full breasts, firmed by the brush of her hands as she washed. Water, glistening on creamy skin, as it followed the concave curve of her belly down to a golden tuft of hair. Unable to stop himself, he visualized joining her in the tight confines of the shower stall. He could see himself standing behind her, cupping her breasts in his hands, licking beads of water off a satiny shoulder.

  Another groan met his ears, but it wasn’t hers. He wrenched his mind away from his fantasy. His breath was coming in staccato pants and he ached with desire.

  The water shut off and when she emerged several minutes later, he was almost composed. That composure was sorely tried when he realized she hadn’t dressed in the bathroom as had been her practice since he’d been there. She wore a light, silky, blue robe that clung to each curve of her damp body. Her braids were water-darkened and highlighted the ivory skin of her face. She held a tube of something in one hand and a large adhesive bandage in the other.

  She moved to the bed, sat on the edge and extended the tube to Rork. He took it. “Put this on my back,” she said, and allowed the back of the robe to slip down, revealing first one sleek golden shoulder and then the other, exposing almost her entire back. She held the robe closed over her chest with one hand and used the other to sweep her hair to the side, baring her nape.

  Rork gasped. He had expected to find healing flesh, but what he saw rocked him to the core. There were fresh stripes, but instead of being laid on lustrous, healthy skin, as he had thought when he’d seen her back the day she’d been whipped, he could see they overlaid dozens of old scars, some still puckered
and red, others silvery with age.

  A little uncivil disobedience is good for the soul…

  Happy Snak

  © 2009 Nicole Kimberling

  Gaia Jones is on A-Ki space station for one reason, and it’s not to ogle the hermaphroditic aliens. She’s out to make a name for herself and her line of intoxicating human snacks. Not easy in A-ki’s tightly controlled society. Her task gets even more delicate when she rushes to the aid of a dying alien—and finds herself the unwilling guardian of a shunned alien ghost named Kenjan. And the new owner of his slave.

  The danger mounts when Kenjan’s grieving lover, the powerful leader of the Kishocha, offers her a dream and a nightmare rolled into one: a new store all her own with a strange double purpose—half snack bar, half shrine. The catch? She must spend the rest of her life there, tending Kenjan the Heretic’s ghost. Or the entire station will be destroyed.

  There’s only one way to gain both her freedom and justice for Kenjan—teach both the powerful government elite and the Kishocha theocracy a lesson in uncivil disobedience…

  Warning: This book contains excessive consumption of clams and clam-based snacks. Also, gratuitous abuse of orange dye, as well as summary decapitation, forbidden love, alien sex and one beloved hamster named Microbe.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Happy Snak:

  “Are you troubled, my master?” Wave asked.

  Gaia jumped and knocked over another stack of boxes. Wave was awake and looking more refreshed than before.

  “Please, just call me Gaia.”

  “Of course, I am deeply regretful to have caused need to correct me again.” Once more Wave lay flat out on the floor.

  “Please stop doing that too. Humans just don’t prostrate themselves before others. Well, Americans don’t, at least.”

  Wave shot bolt upright. “Is this pose correct?”

  “Good enough.” Gaia slouched forward, compensating for Wave’s now excellent posture. “Look, Wave, I want to talk to you.”

  “And what a coincidence. I love to talk!” Wave folded its white hands and leaned far forward so that its muzzle was lower than Gaia’s nose. Gaia decided to ignore this submissive posture. She could explain about groveling and related annoying topics later. “Can I ask what’s troubling you now?”

  “I’ve got a lot of messages to answer and—” Gaia broke off, looking at Wave. “I just can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do with you.”

  “Anything you want. I am your servant.”

  “That’s just so wrong.”

  “No, I am a good servant.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Gaia said. “Anyway, what can you do? I mean, what do you usually do?”

  “I am the Grand Experiment.” Wave dropped its voice theatrically.

  “And that is…?”

  “I am the proof of Kenjan’s wisdom. I was the lowly servant chosen by the exalted Kenjan to learn.”

  “Learn what?”

  “Everything!” Wave opened its arms expansively. “I know many various things. The exalted Oziru am Kenjan taught me stories and philosophy and mathematics and English language. And I learned. And, as a result, that one’s wisdom was proven. Even the wise Righteous Sea had to admit that I could learn.”

  “So you can learn.” Gaia tried not to sound nonplused by this proclamation. She knew the point eluded her, but didn’t feel up to pursuing it to its murky and dubious end.

  “Yes! I can learn. I can learn to do anything for I am intelligent.” Wave sang out this last part. “Any task I can comprehend. Tell me what to do and I will learn to do it. I am flexibility.”

  “Do you want to work for me?”

  “I not only want to, Gaia Jones, but I must. For I am a good servant, and you are my new master.”

  “If you don’t want to work for me, I’m sure I can get the embassy to get you a stipend,” Gaia said.

  Wave blinked at her in confusion.

  “Money to help you live,” Gaia clarified.

  “Um… Money pieces…?” Wave looked even more perplexed. The alien cradled its bandaged arm.

  “You don’t have to be my servant.”

  “But”—Wave sagged—“why do you not want me? You are the master of a food-making place, is that right? I can make food. I told you I could learn.”

  “I do want you, but only if you actually want to work for me.”

  “What else would I do? Please, explain my duties and allow me to serve.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Gaia asked. “I mean, you’re hurt and…things.”

  Wave looked down at its hands. “Work and learning is sometimes a strong distraction from sorrow.”

  The Kishocha didn’t really understand the concept of paid employment, Gaia realized. Kishocha castes being as rigid as they were, aliens were simply born into a profession. So she spent the rest of the day explaining what she expected of her new employee, beginning with using a human timepiece (Gaia’s ex-husband’s watch) and ending with the Kishocha’s wages.

  “I don’t understand,” Wave said apologetically. “You give me money pieces, but then what will I trade my money pieces for?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I see.” Wave’s gaze wandered over the room. “So after this, where will I be allowed to sleep?”

  “Where do you sleep now?”

  “I used to sleep in Oziru am Kenjan’s forechamber on an eel-skin sponge nest, but not anymore.”

  “So you don’t have anywhere to stay?”

  “I thought I would sleep on a floor, like I did just now.” Wave gestured to the spot where she’d dragged the Kishocha’s unconscious body the previous evening.

  Gaia rejected the notion entirely. “You can’t just lay on the floor in my bedroom.”

  “Can I lie under a table?”

  “No.”

  Wave looked hurt. “Do I have to sleep in the shrine? It’s spooky in there.”

  “We’ll think of something.” Gaia wondered where she could get a sponge nest, then realized she didn’t even know what an eel-skin sponge nest was. Luckily the very same was delivered to Happy Snak in the early evening by Oziru’s servants. The sponge nest was, literally, a nest. It was approximately six feet in diameter, with a red eel-skin exterior and an inner lining of soft yellow sponges. Along with the nest, the servants brought two green bowls and a transparent orb. The orb was about the size of Gaia’s head and filled with squirming creatures that closely resembled baby snakes.

  Wave once again fell to the floor, gushing effusive thanks to Oziru’s servants. About halfway through Wave’s speech, Gaia realized that the alien was thanking Oziru on her behalf. The items were for her, not Wave, in spite of the fact that she’d have no use for a sponge nest of any kind. It was then that Gaia began to get a feeling of the true separation of the Kishocha castes. She realized that Wave’s status in the hierarchy was somewhere near Microbe’s or a dog’s. Oziru was, in effect, saying, “Here’s Kenjan’s ex-pet Wave, and here’s its bed and bowl.”

  This was not a working environment Gaia felt comfortable promoting.

  As soon as the other Kishocha left, Gaia turned to Wave. “Well, where are you going to put your stuff?” she inquired innocently, as though she had no ulterior motive.

  “Oh, these are not mine. These are yours, to do with as you see fit.”

  “Mine? I thought they were yours. Isn’t this the bed you used to sleep on?” Gaia scratched her head in mock confusion. “I don’t really have any use for them. I guess I’ll throw them in the garbage.”

  Wave’s eyes widened, and the Kishocha’s mouth dropped open. Wave looked so sad that Gaia was nearly deflected from her lesson in personal possessions.

  “…garbage?” Wave whispered.

  “Unless you want to buy them from me.”

  “Trade them for my money pieces?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t have any money pieces yet,” Wave said.

  “But you will. So do you
want me to save them until the end of the week when you have some money?”

  Wave nodded.

  “The question is: Where are you going to put it all?” Gaia suppressed a rush of guilt. This was a little cruel. “I happen to have a little supply room that you could rent from me for one dollar per month. Would you like to see it?”

  “If you deem it proper and wise, then I don’t need to see it.”

  “You’re not even curious?”

  “Slightly,” Wave admitted, “but not because I question your judgment.”

  “Of course not.” Gaia led Wave back through the kitchen. The supply room was adjacent to her bedroom and measured eight by ten feet. Because it was meant for storage it had a plain tiled floor with a drain in the center. One wall was Kishocha-made, so it emanated a constant heat, which would be advantageous to Wave. Gaia could tell the sponge nest was an inherently damp furnishing. The sponge nest took up about half the room and left a little space where Wave could keep its baby-snake orb.

  Gaia gave Wave the room key, which prompted another long discussion about personal space and privacy. Wave asked if it had to keep the door closed, even when it was lonely, and Gaia assured the alien that solitude wasn’t mandatory.

  “The idea is that you have your own room, and I have mine, and we don’t go into the other person’s room without asking.”

  Wave experienced an epiphany. “Is it like we are playing democracy?”

  “What?”

  “We’re playing like we’re equals. I love the game democracy. The lovely Kenjan and I used to play it all the time.”

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