Melachine knew this because she’d taken on the role of seller.
She was in touch with the new centralized industrial alliance the Cyclers in the Swirl had formed. Governments and individuals in need of base metals placed their orders there and were then referred to individual Cyclers who had the resources to fill the order. They had taken over and restarted the old industrial alliance account set up by the previous owner.
Melachine checked on the new orders. Kroga had told her to set everything to text or audio only, no vid. She thought this was prudent. She didn’t know any of these customers and she and Kroga were hiding out here in the Swirl because…well, she didn’t know why, but she felt an urgency to remain secret.
It turned out she had a talent for managing their currency. It came naturally to her. Maybe this was something she’d done in her previous life? She collected payments, came up with a budget and analyzed profit and loss statements for each moon cycle. She also hired a Gravian robo-investing firm that kept their currency secure and their wealth growing steadily. In three moon cycles they were already gaining so much profit they were living very comfortably. This lifestyle was high risk, but also high profit. They even had a reserve, currency set aside for renovations and upgrades to their facility and also just…extra. It was crazy how it had all happened so quickly.
Now, if only she could just get her memory back.
Melachine paused to glance at the security feeds and watched the antics of the cats running after each other in the mess hall and her male suiting up. He’d already finished in the mini forge and was opening the hatch at the end of the outboard tunnel to move outside the facility to collect space junk. Sometimes Kroga needed her help with the lasers, but today he was doing precision work that didn’t require her help.
She smiled and went back to work.
And then a message alert blinked on her screen. “In-coming holo vid from Megan in section fifteen,” the computer pleasantly informed her.
“Oh, really? Put her through.” She loved being able to chat with someone besides the computer and Kroga. Normally, Melachine had to remain on textual messaging or audio conversation with a voice disruptor to disguise herself whenever she needed to converse with customers. Kroga said they needed to remain secret because…oh hell, yet again she couldn’t remember why. But he’d considered Megan “safe” and agreed that Melachine could show her true self when working with this female who also lived within the Swirl.
Megan was a human female from the planet Earth which was on the opposite side of the four sectors. She’d been captured by alien slavers but managed to jettison in an escape pod that narrowly bypassed the four black holes and ended up here in the Swirl. The human Cyborgs from section fifteen had rescued her from the crushed pod and rushed her into their super-high-tech med bay. She’d recovered from her severe injuries and then had fallen in love with the Cyborgs and mated them. Megan was mated to three Cyborgs and they had a child.
Melachine had been riveted listening to this amazing story of a human female choosing to remain in the Swirl and become the mate to three different Cyborgs.
At first, she and Megan had only discussed how to efficiently sell base materials with the highest return on investment. Megan was extremely helpful and generous in giving Melachine tips on how to set up and run their recycling business. They’d begun chatting more and more and Melachine found she genuinely liked this human. Megan was easy to talk to. She seemed to genuinely love her three Cyborg mates and their offspring was darling. Megan was performing a similar function to Melachine for her husbands; she was their customer service/office manager and she also used her time to organize the members of the Swirl as a whole. She was the one who’d started the Centralized Industrial Alliance. Apparently, there was no cut-throat competition here amongst the Cyclers. They all helped each other and in the end, this helped them all to succeed.
Melachine had even admitted to Megan that she knew nothing about her past because of the amnesia she suffered as a result of head injuries on her journey to the Swirl. Megan was very sympathetic. Everyone in the Swirl had their own harrowing story of arrival. Sometimes fifty percent of crew members died; occasionally everyone survived, but traumatic injuries were common.
Melachine especially adored Megan because the tiny human had brought Jasper and Abby into her life.
Two and a half moon cycles ago Megan had messaged, asking if Melachine wanted something called a “kitten.” Melachine had been surprised, never having heard of this rare type of Earth pet. Megan was lonely for her home planet and had managed to acquire the DNA for this animal from New Earth. Her Cyborg mates were able to transport the cat DNA with zero degradation and grew cats in their advanced med bay lab.
They’d grown a male and female pair who had now mated and produced offspring which were called “kittens.” Megan had wanted to know if Melachine wanted one of these kittens. “I can’t keep all of them,” she’d said. “And you seem like someone who could use a pet right now.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Pets, especially cats, are good for you. Cats make everything better,” Megan had said. “I imagine someone with amnesia needs something to comfort her. Cats are soft, furry companions who will be there for you and will lift your spirits.”
“Oh, okay,” Melachine had agreed, tears in her eyes. Megan was so kind. These kittens sounded exactly like what she needed.
And then Melachine convinced Kroga they needed to adopt these exotic pets. “We are not adopting ridiculous human pets,” he’d originally sniffed. But she’d talked him into it.
At first, she’d only meant to adopt one, and then decided siblings would be a good idea because they could play together and the cats wouldn’t be lonely whenever she and Kroga were busy working. Megan had agreed.
Section five’s transporters were life-form-grade for short-range transport between sections, so the animals were able to arrive one day via transporter. Two tiny kittens in a crate showed up on a disk of light. Those little darlings changed her life. Megan was right, cats made everything better.
And even though Kroga had at first been horrified at the thought of two of these creatures roaming the halls of their facility, he now loved them almost more than she did. Cats were addictive that way.
A vid screen on her console blinked to life. “Melachine? How you doing, guuuuurl?” Megan said with a bright tone.
Melachine grinned. She loved this human’s attention-grabbing language. It turned out human-speak was already downloaded into Melachine’s brain so it was easy for her to understand Megan, they didn’t have to use a universal translator. It was surprising to find out that prior to her amnesia she must’ve been in proximity to other humans enough to require knowing their language. Interesting. In fact, she found Megan’s specific dialect of human-speak very easy to understand, and delightful. They both thought this meant that Melachine had known humans from the original planet prior to her arrival at the Swirl. Melachine couldn’t remember, and she’d asked Kroga about it and he’d said…shoot she couldn’t remember what he’d said. She shook her head.
“I’m fine, how are you? How’s Amani?”
“Oh, she’s having a great time playing with her breakfast, look at her,” Megan lifted her baby up so Melachine could see the girl’s perfect little face, covered in food. “She’s a mess.”
Melachine barked out a laugh.
Amani looked even cuter than normal, her mouth open with food stuck everywhere, even in her hair. The infant had a lovely skin tone that was darker than Megan’s unfortunate colorless aberration, and a shock of hair that was dark as ancient night.
Megan was trying to clean up her child while also navigating around her own large, pregnant belly. Her second offspring was due any day. Apparently, Megan’s sister-in-law Trish, who lived on section thirteen, was also pregnant with her second offspring. There were babies everywhere in the Swirl, except on section five.
Melachine gazed at the child longingly. She loved offspri
ng. She did know that about herself. She liked the idea of family, of having a line close. Why didn’t she have offspring? It was so confusing. Nothing about her life made sense. She was beginning to think this life, while it was good, didn’t particularly align with what she was learning about her personality. Living in isolation wasn’t what she wanted for herself. How had it come to this?
“Your daughter has beautiful Margol pigment and hair dark as ancient night,” she commented. “The food doesn’t matter, she’s still darling.”
“Oh,” Megan laughed, “thank you.” She turned the baby toward the screen and lifted her little hand to wave back at Melachine. “Amani says thank you too. Right, Amani?”
The baby gurgled.
“Now if only Amani had some Xylan ridges to complete that smooth forehead of hers…” Melachine joked.
Megan chuckled. “Right? With silver threaded through like her cousin.”
“Hmm?” Melachine asked, confused about this reference. “Who here has ridges with silver?”
“Oh, Tryxen does, Trish’s son.” Megan explained absently as she continued to clean her infant’s hands and face.
“Your sister-in-law’s son has ridges on her forehead? Is she a Xylan Cyborg?”
“No,” Megan laughed. “She’s a human Cyborg, but remember, her husbands are Xylan.”
Melachine sat up straighter. “Xylan? There are other Xylan out here in the Swirl?”
“Yeah, you know about them. Remember how at first it seemed like you wanted to remain private, and then I wanted to confirm with them that it was okay for me to tell you about them, but then I explained their living situation to you. Privacy is highly important here in the Swirl. Everyone who comes here left the four sectors for a reason. I make sure I remain confidential and respect everyone’s wishes to remain private.”
Melachine nodded, pleased at Megan’s diplomacy. This was exactly why she liked this female. She trusted her and felt safe around her. “I’m sorry, I had a relapse recently and I’m sort of reset to no memories, which means I don’t remember any of this. Could you please retell me about these Xylan?”
Her claw hovered over the comm system. Should she call for Kroga so they could hear this information together, at the same time? Then she remembered he was outside, in his suit, in the corner of their section cutting a particularly difficult piece of space junk. It would take him an eternity to return to the facility if she called now. And, if she tried to include him in the convo from his location, he might not want to talk at that moment and want to wait. And she felt agitated and wanted to hear what Megan had to say right now. She’d just tell him later… He probably knew all of this already anyways. She was the one who’d forgotten. “Who are they?” she asked, wondering if just hearing their names might jog her memory and help her brain to fully heal and bridge that last fifteen percent gap.
“Oh no, you had a relapse?” Megan stared at the screen with concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, I’m fine. The good news is that now my brain is eighty-five percent healed.”
“Oh, that’s progress.”
“It is.”
Megan finished wiping up her child and handed the baby a bottle. “Okay, so the three Xylan you were asking about. Their names are Wyric of Fifty-Three, Bex of Thirty-Seven, and Zaxon of Forty-Eight. They were all three originally of the Xylan mafia.”
“The Xylan mafia?” she gasped.
“Don’t worry, they aren’t part of the mafia anymore. Oh shoot, maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention that part? I can’t always keep track in my head of all the intricacies of Xylan etiquette. I’m so sorry. But Kroga was here in our section before so I thought it was okay to speak to you about the fact that they were in the mafia. Wait, it is okay, I’m remembering now that I told you that part last time.” She blew a hair away from her face and grinned. “Now I feel better.”
Her hearts started racing and her skin heated. “There are three Xylan males on section thirteen and Kroga has met with these warriors?”
“Yes.”
Melachine gasped as a sharp pain hit her head. Dim memories began to resurface. Suddenly she remembered everything Megan had ever told her about those three warriors. And she began to remember so much more.
“Melachine? Melachine? Are you alright are—?”
Melachine reached out a shaky hand and cut off the vid call and stood up, swaying as images flooded her mind. She gasped at the onslaught, sickened by what she was discovering.
4
Kroga went through the work steps he’d performed each day during the last three moon cycles. He enjoyed the view out here of dark space and the satisfaction of knowing he was doing a small part in cleaning up this mess and reclaiming raw materials. The monotony of the work was comforting, keeping his mind off the worries over his female’s recovery. She’d just regained consciousness after yet another relapse, sleeping under that coma-shield, her life on the line. But this time her brain had progressed to eighty-five percent healed and for the first time since they’d arrived, he finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel.
Melachine was going to survive and regain all of her memories. He was certain.
He’d left her alone in the bridge, as she liked, letting her work. She was good at what she did, and he knew the sense of satisfaction in a job well done was good for her well-being. He understood the devastation of memory loss and how debilitating it could be.
Kroga was still recovering from his time under Hurlian mind control—having lost over a decade to those lazhuls. He was never able to understand why he had been chosen as their target. They’d stolen his mind, used his body, and ruined the lives of his immediate line—and he had no idea why he’d been subjected to this humiliation and horror.
They’d been trying to find the perfect mark—a Xylan to capture and use as a spy. They’d taken him, unbeknownst to anyone else. Even to himself. They had him for a full diurnal and implanted their mind control device in his brain and then returned him to his normal life, no one the wiser. He was a ticking time bomb, ready to be activated. Then one day they’d flipped their switch and Kroga had become essentially an organic Cyborg under their control. He wasn’t in charge of himself anymore.
He was still sickened at the thought of the short amount of time he must’ve initially spent with his Bride and sons, under Hurlian control. What had he done to them? What had he said? He had no way of knowing. In fact, he had no memories of those times. A whole decade of his life, lost. He was older now, his hair turning gray and lines on his face with no memory of time passing. He’d been placed deep undercover, to do the Hurlians’ bidding and dirty work in many key positions across the four sectors, to cause chaos and death.
He was appalled, thinking of what they’d done with his mind and body, harming other beings, blaming it on him—as if he’d had the free will to do these violent actions himself. No one had known it was the Hurlians controlling him. They all thought Kroga had turned into a criminal mastermind.
He had not. He was as much a captive of the Hurlians as anyone else. He was their toy, stuck in their mind prison. And sometimes, in between missions, he was left to languish in an actual Hurlian prison. He’d been lucid while locked in prison and able to agonize over the loss of his mate and offspring. Finally, they’d decide his next placement and he’d go undercover again, time lost to their manipulations.
But now he was overexposed. The Hurlians had used him to commit so many high profile, unspeakable crimes he was now too recognizable for them to use. He was wanted by the High Command, by the Bounty Hunters, by the Creekans… He was the most notorious being in the entire four sectors, at the top of all the most-wanted lists.
The Hurlians didn’t want him now; their mind control had begun to crack. Over time the control they’d had over his brain had begun to degrade and they weren’t able to govern his mind as perfectly as they had before. He’d discovered the Hurlians had been about to terminate him, and his Bride too. Kroga an
d Melachine had a mental bond that crossed sectors and time. The Hurlians were concerned that classified information would leak over to Melachine. They considered her a weak link and if they killed his Bride too, they were assured that all evidence of their treachery was perfectly extinguished. When he’d discovered their plan to murder not only him but his Bride too—that was the last crack in their mental prison. He’d escaped from his position as the Warden of Detention Center: Zeta 149, and had kidnapped Melachine with him to hide here, in the Swirl—the only place where they couldn’t be found.
They’d taken over this empty section. He’d spent an entire week in the med bay, recovering from brain surgery required to have the Hurlian implant removed. He and his Bride had both lain side-by-side in the med bay, on beds next to each other. Melachine’s injury had been a result of the difficult journey past the four black holes. They’d almost died on that trip. The ship they’d arrived in had been severely damaged.
“Wyric of Fifty-Three messaging,” the computer intoned inside his helmet.
Kroga turned off his laser. Wyric? Heh. This was surprising.
Wyric was the warrior he’d met when he’d transported over to oversee an honor battle on section thirteen between Wyric and his cousin. Wyric had expertly killed Oaxan of Eighty-Seven, the head of the Xylan mafia. It had been a glorious battle and Kroga considered Wyric to be an honorable male. “Give me audio here, live,” he ordered the computer.
“Affirmed.”
“Kroga?” a deep voice questioned.
A smile tugged at the corner of Kroga’s lips. It was nice to hear the rough voice of a royal pigment peer. How many years had he been apart from his own species? “I am here, Wyric. What do you require?”
“Greetings, Kroga. I am contacting you because Megan, the human female of my extended line, arrived in my section, upset, saying she’s concerned for your mate.”
The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8 Page 75