by Vi Voxley
Triad in the Making
Celestial Mates
Vi Voxley
Contents
Copyright
1. Joanna
2. Eredin
3. Joanna
4. Rago
5. Joanna
6. Eredin
7. Rago
8. Joanna
9. Eredin
10. Joanna
11. Joanna
12. Rago
13. Eredin
14. Joanna
15. Rago
16. Joanna
17. Eredin
18. Rago
19. Eredin
20. Joanna
21. Joanna
Epilogue
Alien Warlords’ Baby Excerpt
About the Author
Thank you for reading!
More from Celestial Mates
Copyright © 2017 Vi Voxley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Triad in the Making
Celestial Mates
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Vi Voxley. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Kasmit
One
Joanna
"Lieutenant Smith!"
Joanna woke up at once, rubbing her temples when sitting up too fast made her head hurt. It seemed that lately she hadn't been able to get more than a few hours of sleep at a time.
"Lieutenant!" the banging on the door continued, accompanied by urgent shouting.
"Coming!" she called back, getting out of her bed and pulling her black uniform coat on.
The lieutenant glanced in the mirror hanging on the wall as she tied her long black hair in a ponytail, noticing how tired her dark hazel eyes looked. Sleep had been incredibly sweet and very rare for days now, ever since the Rivera had left the planet Toshia with vicious scavengers on their tail.
She opened the door, thinking that a research ship had no business giving her crew so much trouble.
"What is it?" Joanna asked the clerk who'd been about to knock again. "Another fight?"
His name was Daven. The captain used him as a messenger.
"Yes, Lieutenant," the man said. "Two engineers. They've been detained and thrown in the brig, but Captain Matthews wants you there to observe them."
Joanna sighed. It wasn't the first time that had happened in the course of their fleeing from the Orochis. The shock of finding themselves fleeing from an armed to the teeth enemy was still palpable on the ship. There was nothing valuable or worth stealing on the Rivera. They had samples of local flora from meaningless little planets even their own crew wouldn't have bothered to run after.
There was something else now too, though. In the midst of caves and vines and curious purple waterfalls, the scientists of Rivera had found a mysterious Orb. It had sat on a pedestal in some underground temple-like hall.
They'd taken it to bring back to Terra to study the ancient culture further.
And all hell had broken loose.
"How far are the Orochis?" Joanna asked, hurrying along the corridors with the man falling into step with her.
"I'm not sure, Lieutenant," Daven replied. "The captain said they're gaining."
Joanna nodded grimly.
"They've been gaining for days now," she said. "It's only a matter of time before they catch us. Is anything known about the fight?"
"I was there myself," the man answered, pale and concerned. "I don't know what got into them, Lieutenant. One moment they were talking in the common room and then suddenly they were at each other's throats. It happened so fast I didn't even hear either of them saying anything.
"It was a terrible sight, though. They tore at each other's throats like some wild animals. I've never seen anything like it. Like they were... possessed or something. We all tried to shout for them to stop, some even tried to intervene but I swear, I don't think they ever heard us."
Joanna listened with a deepening feeling of dread. Everything Daven was saying matched her suspicions to the dot.
"Common room," she repeated. "The one above the cargo hold?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
It IS the Orb. I knew it. What in the name of gods is going on with that thing?
Joanna rushed ahead, thinking that the whole trip had been much more eventful than any of them could have ever predicted. First they'd decided to risk going a bit off course, investigating the outer worlds of Fara System, taking them perilously close to the Orochi worlds.
She hadn't protested that. If they were already so far from Terra, why not gather information about planets no one else but them would visit for another decade or so?
And the Orochis, while quite dangerous, weren’t known to attack commercial ships without provocation. The sector, along with many others, was under the protection of Haverins, a warrior species so powerful they kept the Orochis at bay with their name alone.
The Haverin home world was even deeper in unexplored space, but they had recently established relations with Terra, meaning the Rivera could hope for the protection of the golden-eyed warriors.
Everything had gone well, almost until the end.
"What do you think happened, Lieutenant?" Daven asked carefully.
"I think we messed up," Joanna stated, checking to see if her gun was safely on her belt. "Back on Toshia, you remember we picked up signals from a small Orochi fleet? And they didn't give any indication they were going to attack us?"
"Yes," the man answered, unsure where she was going with that.
"Well, they began chasing us very shortly after we left," Joanna explained. "My theory is that the Orb is somehow important to them. I think they didn't pick a fight because they were occupied with searching for it. And when they came upon the empty spot, they drew their conclusions."
"Okay," Daven said slowly. "But what does that have to do with the fights?"
"I think it's too big of a coincidence that they've been happening only after we left Toshia," Joanna replied, rounding the corner and arriving at the brig. "I have no idea what that thing is, but I'm sure it's responsible."
Daven said nothing more because Captain Matthews approached them and they both saluted.
"Sir," Joanna said. "Will you reconsider my proposal now? It's the fourth fight now."
The captain regarded her seriously, a deep frown upon his face. Before them, the hatch in the door showed Joanna the two engineers. Both had been tied up to stop them from resuming their fight. Their eyes were bloodshot and she could hear growling.
Like Daven had said, they gave Joanna the impression of not being entirely there. Both men were staring only at each other, teeth bared in a wild snarl, struggling futilely against their restraints. Neither turned their head toward them although they had to hear through the door.
"My thinking is this," Matthews said thoughtfully. "You say it's the Orb that's doing this."
"Yes," Joanna replied respectfully. "Every time there has been a fight, it has taken place near the cargo hold. All the brawlers have been people who had no reason to try and claw each other's eyes out. Not to mention they only began after we picked it up."
"I'm forced to agree," Matthews said to
her relief, adding, however: "Even so, Lieutenant. What good do you think throwing it out of the airlock would do?"
"It's the cause of these fights," Joanna said. "If we remove the cause, I would assume that the symptoms will recede."
Matthews nodded.
"Possible," he said. "But I must weigh all the options. Have you, in turn, considered that these are cases of cabin fever?"
Joanna glanced at the two men in the brig again, looking at their mindless thrashing.
"I have, sir," she answered. "And I don't think they are. They're too random and –"
"Too close together?" Matthews sighed, nodding. "Yes, you're right. I was hoping it was an easier explanation than having some magical object aboard."
Joanna waited with bated breath.
"Now," Matthews said, turning to her. "I trust your opinion, Lieutenant. The Orochis are nearly upon us. The Haverins guard these parts of the galaxy, but they aren't summoned like watch dogs. They might be able to avenge us, but hope of rescue is close to zero. There will be fighting very soon.
"So my question is: Do you think we might be able to buy our lives with the Orb or is it better to fling it into open space?"
Joanna considered. She hadn't thought of it that way. It didn't change her opinion either.
"No, sir," she said. "The Orochis are vengeful, we know that. The Haverins have warned us that they don't let their prey go, ever. Even if we give them the Orb, they'll kill us for fun. I think our chances are better if we somehow managed to find a way to hail them and drop the Orb. Maybe we could buy ourselves time to escape while they go after it –"
The idea might have been good and worth considering. At the next second, however, alarms blared.
The captain opened his comm link.
"Bridge, report," he ordered. "What's going on?"
"The Orochi," Joanna could hear the response. "They're here, sir! Fighters approaching fast!"
"All power to the shields," Matthews ordered at once. "Sound the alarm! I want the entire crew to arms right now! Prepare to be boarded!"
Joanna took a deep breath.
"It seems we'll find out the answers very soon," she told the captain. "It's been an honor flying with you, sir."
Matthews gave her a fatherly smile and nodded.
"Don't die, Joanna," he said, turning toward the bridge. "I'll see if we can make a run for it. Keep them at bay. Protect the crew!"
"Yes, sir," Joanna replied, heading to the more populated areas of the ship.
As she ran, she saw other people picking up any weapons they could find and preparing to make a final stand against the scavengers. Joanna was proud to see grim determination on their faces. Rivera was nothing more than an insignificant little research ship, it wasn't in any way prepared to face the Orochi fleet, but they sure had spirit.
"With me!" she called. "We'll try to bring them down before they enter! Seal up the entry points, maybe we can keep them out of the main quarters!"
Some of the crew gathered around Joanna while others ran for cover according to their spirit and rank. There were thuds on the hull of the Rivera above them. Joanna drew the gun and took careful aim, ready to go down fighting if that was to be her end.
She was watching the first plasma cutters spit fire from the ceiling as the Orochis burrowed into the Rivera right from their fighters. Joanna was ready to make her last minutes count and hopefully save a few lives.
It’s what I signed up for, wasn’t it? she thought, her insides twisting with the rush of adrenaline and nerves.
In that moment, a man teleported right next to her.
His appearance was so shocking that people around Joanna screamed while she just stared, trying to resist the urge to pinch herself and see whether she'd lost her mind to the Orb too.
There was nothing particularly frightening about the man, however. He was a kindly old gentlemen, dressed like he'd missed a few millenniums, in a sharp suit Joanna had only read about in history books. He had kind deep green eyes and a hint of gray in his combed-back dark hair.
Most notably, the man was smiling in a calm and soothing way.
"Miss Joanna Smith?" he asked as it rained fire around them. "I am Reuben. Excuse me for troubling you at such a busy moment but it is, after all, the reason why I'm here.
"You have about eight minutes to live. Let's see if we can do something to change that."
Two
Eredin
The honor duel was the last ritual on the long path of becoming a Templar.
The first step for me. After this, I finally have the power to make the changes the order so desperately needs.
It was the day Eredin had waited for his entire life, like any other Haverin who'd been chosen by the priests when he'd been no more than two years old.
It showed the gods had noticed his potential to be a great warrior, even back then. There could be no greater praise than that. It was a pity Eredin couldn't believe a word of that, not with the Lord Templar running the order like his personal army for long, long years now.
I will stop him. If no one else believes me, I can do it alone.
"Are you ready?" asked the priest cloaked in gold, the color of godliness on the planet Corolon.
Eredin wasn't sure if he should answer such a ridiculous question. Out of the corner of his eye, the young Lord Greole saw his tutors give him a row of quick nods. Over the years, Eredin had become fluent in the subtle hints of the men who'd been tasked with preparing him for the holy duty.
Those nods said Don't be an asshole.
"Yes," Eredin replied, stating the obvious.
The priest turned to the man standing next to him, the only person that managed to dim the glory of the day a little. Eredin had known the young Lord Merive was to be a Templar too, he just hadn't figured the day of their induction into the order would be the same.
It wasn't a happy coincidence. What could have been a friendship crossing the borders of the two highborn families had quickly turned to ashes when Eredin realized how little Rago wanted to see of the world around him. The warrior had such illusions about the order, blinded by being honored by the gods, not seeing how little the gods had had to do with the order these days.
It made Rago oblivious to the blade coming for him as Eredin knew all too well what the Lord Templar had in store for the Merives.
The feuds between the two ruling families of Haverins were supposed to be behind them – by the decree of their kings, at least – so Eredin kept his mouth shut. Truth was, the old disputes weren't entirely gone because someone wished them away.
His uncle, the Lord Templar, had brought Eredin up to think Merives were his natural enemies. It had taken him a long time to shake that belief off, but Rago's stubbornness was rekindling some of it.
"Are you prepared?" the priest asked Rago.
Eredin didn't turn his head but he could guess that Rago would be feeling about the same as he did. They were twenty-five years old and the gods had marked them a long time ago. What could possibly be the reason why they wouldn't go through with the ritual that stood between them and the thing they'd been working toward their whole lives?
"Yes," Rago said roughly from his left.
Eredin gave his own answer a bit of thought. Truly, was there something he regretted? He'd given the answer so freely, so easily. Now that he considered the massive step he was about to take, Eredin wondered if the priest wasn't on to something after all.
There were no regrets in Eredin's heart as he stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Rago.
Except for one.
He would never have a fated. Templars served the gods and there could be no distractions or inner conflicts for them. Unlike the Haverin armies, the order protected the heart and soul of the Haverins, challenged anyone who was a threat to their way of life.
As such, it shouldn't have been surprising that the order had taken the kings' order to banish the past with the most reluctance.
"I swear that I have come here
voluntarily this day," Eredin said out loud, Rago chorusing after him. "If I should die today, it is the will of the gods and if I live, my life is theirs."
They turned toward each other. It was the first proper look over several years Eredin got of the man who used to be his friend, back when they were training for the final challenge they now shared.
Dressed in a dark black armor of the Templars, Rago was tall and powerfully built, just like he was. Lord Merive's eyes were entirely golden, showing his great ancestry, again matching Eredin in that. That was where the similarities ended.
Rago was the coldest creature Eredin had ever seen, from his light, icy blond hair tied behind his head to the absolute calm in his golden eyes. Even his body was pale to reflect the ice within. In contrast, Eredin was tan and fiery, his hair as golden as his eyes were.
He wondered if Rago also felt the slightest twinge of regret as they prepared to forever deny themselves the chance to truly be whole through the bond between fateds.
"Begin," the priest ordered from the corner of the arena.
All thought washed from Eredin's mind as he turned immediately, ending up back-to-back with Rago. At once, the many gates leading to the arena opened and warriors marched in. All fully armed and prepared to cut them down without mercy.
There were twelve of them. It was the only goal of the chosen elite warriors to kill them, while Eredin and Rago had no rule but to be alive when the sacred twelve minutes had passed.
Seconds started to count down in Eredin's head as they waited. First, they needed to get some weapons if they had any chance of survival.
"On your left, man with the scar," Eredin murmured to Rago, pointing out the weakest link. "Meet in five."
A grunt was Rago's only reply. They both dashed from where they'd stood, heading for their chosen victims. It crossed Eredin's mind that they should have prepared more but that sounded like a weakness to him. Templars had to be prepared for anything if they wanted to protect the Haverins against all false gods. It was imperative that he and Rago managed their opponents without tricking them.