by Anna Carven
“Killing children is evil, General Daegan, no matter what the end-goal. Do not try and justify her actions to me. Ever. I am not returning to Kythia, and you will never find the Fleet Station.”
“You dare to defy the Imperium?” Alerak rose, his bright orange robes swirling around him. His jewelry clinked, a soft, metallic sound that accompanied his movements. “You do not understand, Princeling. We are the Supreme Rulers of the Universe, and you are nothing but a brat who has run away from home one too many times. You can flee to the farthest ends of the Nine Galaxies, but we will always find you. I have deigned to travel this far to fetch you because I am merciful, and the Infinite Mother is merciful, and we are giving you a chance to atone for your sins. But still you choose to reject us. In that case, you invite war. I don’t care if you have half the Imperial Fleet at your disposal. We will come at you with everything we have, and your precious planet Earth will be caught in the crossfire. Because of your insolence, the Human race will suffer. And the General who dared defy his Empress will suffer, because we will find that Human of his and tear her apart, limb from limb, while he watches.”
“Just try it, Alerak.” The General stood, his crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. “You think you can win against me? You dare touch her and I will personally tear you apart and I will take pleasure in torturing you slowly.”
Xal was also on his feet. “Leave. Go back to Kythia and I will forget this,” he said darkly. “I am giving you both the chance to leave this planet before you invite disaster upon us all.”
“What are you going to do, Prince? Fire upon us? We will destroy Earth if you attempt any such thing. We are not afraid to die for the sake of the Empire.” Alerak folded his ringed fingers and smiled smugly. “I will give you the duration of one of Earth’s rotations to reconsider your position. I would ask you to consider how insignificant you really are in the grand scheme of things. So much so that the Infinite Mother is even willing to allow you to return to your precious savage tribes, if that is what you wish. You can go back to your life on the Vaal and forget this madness.”
“Just think about it, Xalikian.” Daegan was the last to say something, acting every bit the voice of reason, before the holographic images disappeared.
Well, that went well. Sera was shocked to the core by what she had just witnessed. Earth was about to be thrust into the middle of a war between two groups of murderous aliens, hell-bent on destroying each other. Kordolians were a bunch of vicious, bloodthirsty Imperialists, and the conversation had pointed towards something more sinister in the Empire.
Killing children?
She shuddered.
What kind of environment had Xal grown up in?
That Alerak guy had given her the creeps. His eyes had taken on a fanatical cast and he’d seemed utterly devoted to this person they called the ‘Infinite Mother’.
Her psycho radar was going off.
Xal turned, and even from her place at the back of the room, Sera could feel the anger radiating from him. She saw the look on his face and thought about switching off the recording device, but something compelled her to continue.
He met her gaze briefly, his amber eyes holding a maelstrom of emotion, and then he left the room.
Sera decided now wasn’t the time to go after him.
Sometimes, men needed to be alone.
The General appeared at her side and Sera turned a little too quickly, startled by his sudden appearance. These guys moved like ghosts. “Now you see what nonsense we have to deal with,” he murmured, his expression unreadable. “I will show you to your quarters. The Prince has requested that you be accommodated next to his rooms, and Abbey has requested that we ensure your welfare at all costs. So come.” Strangely, the scary warrior from earlier was gone, replaced by a calm Kordolian who was almost civil.
That had to be Abbey’s influence.
“Is Prince Kazharan all right? He seemed quite upset.”
The General stared at her as if it was the stupidest of questions. “He needs to fight,” he shrugged. “Then he will be fine.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The training simulator was empty. Xal went through the options and selected a Kordolian opponent, cranking the difficulty up to Level 10. The desire to hurt someone had grown so strong that he’d been afraid to remain in the Bridge any longer.
As he’d left, he’d made eye contact with Sera.
She’d given him the strangest of looks. Her large brown eyes had been full of compassion and understanding and perhaps a trace of fear.
He’d hated seeing his weakness reflected in her gaze.
Xal threw off his robes. He was naked underneath, because that was the best way for a Kordolian to fight, free of any hindrances. It was how the Lost Tribes of the Vaal fought in their ceremonial battles.
His headache was stronger than ever, but somehow his vision had become sharp again, his hearing more acute. He had bitten down on his lip and tasted blood in his mouth, and suddenly he desired to taste the blood of his enemies.
An image of him ripping Luron Alerak’s heart from his chest had entered his mind, startling him with its intensity. In darker times, some of the the Lost Tribes, particularly the Aikun, had eaten the hearts of their enemies. On Kythia, Xal had spent a lot of time with the Aikun after he was exiled. They had welcomed him as one of their own. The Aikun were fierce warriors who lived by the Old Ways, never taking more from the land than what they needed.
They had taught him to harness his bloodlust and use it in the midst of the hunt, but this aggression he felt right now was different.
What was wrong with him?
What was this madness that had overtaken him?
Perhaps he was succumbing to the curse of the Kazharan line.
He couldn’t afford that. Now, more than ever, his people needed him. Thousands of ordinary Kordolians were starting the long journey from Kythia to Earth, answering his call.
They trusted him. Before he’d fled into exile, he’d been their only advocate before the High Council, playing dangerous politics to improve their circumstances. The Nobles had thought it a cynical ploy for power.
On Kythia, if one didn’t belong to a Noble House, one had no rights.
Xal entered the simulation chamber and found himself face-to-face with a slightly imperfect representation of a Kordolian. The fighter-bot used holographic images to change its appearance, depending on the type of opponent that was required.
Without warning, the bot attacked, and Xal responded with a heavy block, pushing it backwards. The bot launched into a flurry of punches and kicks, and Xal defended, slowly gaining the upper hand, his speed increasing as the fight progressed. After a while, he started to understand the fight-pattern of the bot. Even at Level 10, there was only so much it could do before its movements became predictable. He went on the offensive, landing several solid kicks to the bot’s chest.
The exertion felt good. His aggression was off the scale. He needed release. Xal smashed his fist into the bot’s face and the simulated nose crumpled under his blow. He hooked a foot under his opponent’s leg, sending it crashing to the floor. Straddled over the bot, he rained a flurry of punches into its torso and its face, the action becoming mindless as he gave in to his rage. Pain shot through his fists, but still, he kept going. His knuckles were starting to bleed, a spray of black dotting the floor.
He smashed the bot’s face beyond all recognition. An alarm started to go off, but he ignored it.
Then, the bot went limp, and the alarm stopped.
Xal looked around in frustration, anger coursing through him. He wasn’t finished, and the bot hadn’t given him the challenge he’d needed.
“That simulator is difficult and expensive to repair,” a low voice growled. “Replacement parts aren’t available in this sector.” Breathing heavily, Xal whirled as Tarak stepped into the chamber.
“I will go mad if I don’t find release,” he grunted.
Tarak inclined his head, a look of u
nderstanding crossing his face. “Then you will fight me instead of destroying one of our simulator bots.”
The General willed his exo-armor to retract, leaving him naked, just like Xal.
Then, so fast he almost became a blur, he moved in and placed a hand on Xal’s neck. The movement was chilling; he was letting Xal know he could have killed him at any time. “Anger will cloud your judgement,” he warned, as Xal grabbed his wrist and tried to flip him on his back. Tarak resisted, and Xal followed up with a kick to his stomach, sending him back a pace.
The General was a freak; his body had been molded and shaped by years of painful experiments. In all forms of physical combat, Tarak was supreme. Xal’s chances of beating him were next to none, but at least Tarak would give him a good fight. That was what he needed right now.
Xal’s moves were adapted from the Aikun fighting style. He moved like water, aiming for every part of the General’s body. But Tarak had very few openings, and even the ones Xal managed to find were closed with a solid defensive block or a vicious counter-attack.
Tarak moved to Xal’s rhythm, allowing him to land blows, matching his pace as he sped up, their fight transforming into a vicious, beautiful dance.
He controlled the pace, challenging Xal, drawing him into moves Xal hadn’t thought possible, stretching him to his limits. Where his fighting had lacked structure before, Tarak molded it into a thing of form and grace.
Still, Xal wanted more. He focused his anger onto the General, searching for an opening.
There. The General had blocked a vicious right hook, and was using intricate footwork to avoid Xal’s low kicks. He used his left hand to strike at Xal, but at that moment, Xal evaded his reach and connected with Tarak’s left cheek, his sharp black fingernails leaving a bleeding gash.
The General grunted in annoyance.
The smell of Kordolian blood filled the chamber, and Xal followed the hit with another blow, his right hand connecting with Tarak’s shoulder.
The General growled and closed his fingers around Xal’s right wrist. He twisted, but Xal ignored the pain, hooking one foot behind Tarak’s leg, using the momentum of his body to flip the General over.
They crashed to the floor, but somehow, Tarak maneuvered in mid-air and they ended up with Tarak on top, one hand around Xal’s neck.
The cuts on Tarak’s face were already starting to close, thanks to the infected nanites that coursed through his veins.
Xal took a deep breath, the thrill of exertion rippling through him. His thoughts were starting to clear, his rage dropping down a notch.
“You are getting faster,” Tarak said approvingly as he jumped to his feet and held out a hand, hauling Xal up. “But work on your form. Anger makes your fighting sloppy. Control it, Xalikian.”
Breathing hard, Xal stared at the General. “It’s never been this bad before,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Usually, I can control it my temper, but lately I’ve been getting these terrible headaches, and I’m always on edge. If I could go and hunt a fucking lamperk or something, it wouldn’t be so bad. I fear that six-cycle trip has made a madman out of me.”
Tarak looked thoughtful. “Go and see Zyara.”
“I’m not sick,” Xal snapped.
“See the medic, Xalikian. I suspect there are only two ways to cure what you have.”
“How?” Xal shook his head. “I’m not sick,” he repeated, suddenly confused. “I feel fine, apart from this anger.”
“As I said, two ways. Fighting, or fucking. The latter may or may not be an option for you.” He raised a speculative eyebrow. Xal wondered what in Kaiin’s hells he was talking about. The General turned and walked out of the simulation chamber. “Get yourself checked. None of us like visiting the medic, but in this case, she may be able to explain things better than I can.”
With that, he left the room, leaving Xal to wonder what the hell he was talking about.
Aside from his own mental weakness, there was nothing wrong with him, was there?
~~~
After Sera had been shown to her quarters, she spent some time going through the footage she’d captured.
The raw film on its own would incite panic on Earth if she transmitted it.
No; it needed some serious editing and interpretation. She needed to analyze what she’d just seen.
The underlying threat was obvious. Earth was about to get caught in the cross-hairs of two warring Kordolian factions, and if the Kordolians decided to battle it out, there was nothing Humans could do.
The only things that stood between them and enslavement were a troubled, volatile Prince and a Kordolian General who had taken a human as his mate.
Xal’s anger had grown as the confrontation with the Kordolians went on, to the point where he’d struggled to contain himself.
She hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash. She had to make sure he wouldn’t do anything rash.
The future of the Human race depended on it.
Sera was finally able to admit to herself that she was attracted to Xalikian Kazharan and she’d decided she wanted to get close to him. The near-instant lust that had overtaken her back on Earth hadn’t been a fluke, and it wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon.
He was a damn attractive male, and usually, if Sera wanted something, she went after it. But back there on Earth, sensing her arousal, he’d turned her away.
Still, she was curious. She wondered if Kordolians were compatible in that way. Well, Abbey and Tarak were together, weren’t they?
Were Kordolians good in bed? She suspected she knew the answer to that already.
Sera touched the scars on her face, tracing her fingers over the hardened skin. Did her appearance turn him off? Underneath her long grey sleeves were the marks of her suffering, but the jagged scars that marred the smooth skin of her left arm were mostly hidden by colorful ink.
She’d had the tattoos done to erase signs of her suffering; the swirling vines and blooming flowers were a symbol of her resilience. However, there were thorns amongst the beauty.
What would he make of her if he saw her naked?
After the accident, her flesh had healed. As a child she’d endured months of stem cell therapy and laser treatment and rehabilitation. There was only so much medical science could repair. The emotional scars had taken longer to heal.
But she had survived childhood, fought her demons and come out the other end stronger and better for it.
Sera hid her scars not because she was ashamed, but because she hated the looks of pity she got from strangers.
Did she dare reveal herself to the Prince, who she sensed had his own demons to battle? Because when she shed her outer layers, questions always came up.
And would he trust her enough to reveal himself to her?
She lay her equipment out on a small desk, moving by feel and touch as much as sight. The dim lighting on this ship didn’t do her Human eyesight any favors.
Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t had anything to eat since before her run. Did the Kordolians have some kind of mess hall onboard this ship? What did they eat anyway? The General had said they were meat-eaters.
Carnivores. That would explain the fangs. At some point during their evolution, they had been natural predators. She shuddered.
They had better have something edible on board, because Sera was starving. What the hell had Abbey eaten when she was stuck on this ship for months?
She slipped out of her quarters, the strange door opening like an unraveling basket, thousands of tiny black fibers separating to allow her to pass.
Apparently, the entrance was keyed to her biological signature.
Kordolians really had the most freaky and fascinating technology.
Sera made her way down the dark hall, activating her link-bracelet so that its powerful light illuminated a path in front of her.
As she rounded a corner, she almost bumped into a Kordolian soldier. He was wearing what seemed to be the standard-issue uniform of their
military; a plain, black ensemble with a red insignia on the collar. She wasn’t sure how Kordolians aged, but he looked young.
He started babbling at her in Kordolian. Luckily, the translator was still in her ear.
“What are you doing, Human? You are not authorized to be here,” he snapped, towering over her. It seemed all Kordolians were tall. “Go back to your quarters immediately.”
Sera stepped back, trying to appear non-threatening. “I was just after some food,” she said, in Universal. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to go snooping around where you don’t want me to. Don’t you guys have a mess hall or something? I’ll go straight there and straight back, I promise.”
The soldier stared back at her blankly. Great. So the translator helped her understand Kordolian, but this guy couldn’t understand Universal. It was a one-way street. Had he missed out on the mandatory language classes, or did the Kordolians just not care enough to teach their military to communicate with the rest of the Universe?
The soldier must have misinterpreted her reply, because the next thing she knew, he was grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to force her back down the corridor, and he wasn’t being gentle at all.
Sera’s training kicked in and before she realized it, she’d assumed a fighting stance. “Get your hands off me,” she warned. “I’m not a prisoner onboard this ship.”
“Do not resist, Human.”
“Get your hands off me, Kordolian.” It was pointless to argue with him; he didn’t understand a word she said. Sera started cursing in English. Part of her was incensed that Xal could just leave her to vegetate in her chambers without any thought for her welfare.
What was she supposed to do? Sit there and wait until they said she could come out?
Being a captive hadn’t been part of the deal.
It was too bad Junior here hadn’t received the memo.
He was still trying to shove her around, and it was really starting to piss her off. Sera gave in to her frustration and pulled him forward by the arm, dragging it down to distract him while she moved her leg around his. In a single swift movement, she toppled the soldier onto his back.