Chilled: Elemental Warriors (A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Paranormal Romance)

by Ashley West

  This wasn’t a joyride, though, there really were baddies to catch, and he scanned the sensors on the dash in front of him, before punching in a few buttons to bring the mapped image of the space ahead of them up on the HUD. One finger followed the scanner line as the ship searched for his prey.

  “Target acquired,” droned the ship’s helpful AI, and Silas grinned.

  “Gotcha. Thanks, Vai.”

  “Stop talking to the ship,” Cress said, and Silas could just make out the sight of him, catching up in the rear feed. “It’s not normal.”

  “Your face isn’t normal, but you don’t see me talking sludge about it.”

  Cress grumbled, and Silas just smiled wider.

  Being a member of Her Imperial Majesty’s Army was both a privilege and a dream come true. They were the finest fighters, the best defenders of the planet that the Shenandril Quadrant could boast, and being counted among the ranks of the mighty was something to brag about. Most of their job revolved around keeping the Empress safe and defending the borders of the capital city, as well as the planet itself when things called for it. Gathra was large and varied, and it was rare that someone was foolish enough to try and target it. But when they did, the Army, often called the HIMA for short, stood ready.

  In the meantime, there were missions like this. Scavengers, smugglers, and thieves, foolish enough to take something from a Gathran hub and get caught doing it. They always tried to run, no one wanted HIMA on their tail, of course, but they never got far.

  As good as they were on the ground with weapon in hand, everyone who was above a private had to know how to fly, as well. Never knew when a situation would go from a ground fight to a sky one, and it was imperative that someone be able to hop into a pod and take to the stars in pursuit.

  In this manner, HIMA was the best as what they did. Sometimes nearby planets asked to borrow them when their own defenses were lacking for whatever the task at hand was. If you were a member of HIMA and showed up in Imperial blue and gold, then you were given free drinks at almost any cantina in the Quadrant and a few other things besides. Almost everyone who called the Quadrant home had a story about how they’d been helped by HIMA, and most of them were thrilled to show their appreciation.

  Because of this, people who were looking for something to do with their lives often thought that HIMA was the way to go. They showed up at Her Imperial Majesty’s fortress in the center of the capital and proclaimed they wanted to join up.

  In order to be fair, HIMA and those who were in command of it allowed everyone to enter training as long as they were above the age of passage. Of course, the first week of training consisted of tests that disqualified over half of the people who enrolled in each training session. There were tests on everything from reading and writing to physical fitness to the way zero gravity affected the body. Anyone who didn’t pass every test was sent home, and they couldn’t say that HIMA hadn’t given them a shot.

  Everyone else went into the next phase. Now that they had proven they could handle the rigors in general, it was time to see if they could be useful for HIMA in specifics.

  It’d been awhile since Silas had gone through training. At twenty-four, his age of passage had been seven full cycles previous, and he’d been at the fortress, ready to sign up for training the very instant he’d been old enough.

  It was gratifying, actually, being competent at something he’d wanted to do for his entire life, and every day that he got to help defend the planet and help people was a day he counted as a good one.

  Especially days like this where he was racing through the beauty of space on the trail of a petty thief with nothing holding him back. Except Cress, Silas supposed, but he knew from working with him for so long that pushing Cress to his best just took Silas being his best. Cress would push to compete, and the job would get done.

  “Who do these liknaks think they are, anyway?” Cress was grousing in the headset. “Stealing like they think they’re gonna get away with it.”

  “Maybe they’re stupid,” Silas replied, shrugging one shoulder even though Cress wouldn’t be able to see it. He kept his eyes on his screen, making sure the quarry wasn’t getting too far ahead of them. “Maybe they like getting busted and hauled in to face Ammaline’s justice.”

  “What, like kinky?” Cress asked.

  Silas snorted. “No, not like kinky, you pervert,” he said. “I mean, maybe it’s some kinda thrill for them. Getting chased down by HIMA. It’s an honor for most criminals.”

  “Still sounds like some kinda kinky thing to me.”

  “Shut up and fly, liknak,” Silas said, using the word for someone possessing a few rocks short of an asteroid belt.

  They caught up with their petty thieves not far from the border of a different planet’s orbit. It was funny how they’d thought they could easily slip away, and when he used his tractor beam to haul their little pod back to the capital, Silas was sure to wag his finger at them and smirk.

  The man and woman who he’d caught looked angry, but that wasn’t Silas’ concern. Once he handed them over to the division of HIMA that handled things like this, he was relieved of duty for the evening and could go back to relaxing.

  “And on my day off, too,” he said as he slapped a pair of cuffs on the woman, letting Cress do the same to the man. They weren’t getting out of those. The cuffs were an invention from the techier side of the HIMA spectrum, and they were made of a common metal, coated in melted down stone and turned unbreakable. They were held together by a magnetic force that engaged instantly and kept a criminal’s hands together until the force was released. In the fifteen full cycles that they’d been using the cuffs, no one had ever escaped. Though not for lack of trying.

  At this point it was common for someone making an arrest to step back and just let the escape attempt happen. Cress and Silas did so, watching with twin bored expressions on their faces.

  The man was large, thick necked and built like a barrel. He strained against the magnets that kept him in place, grey tinged face turning red as he fought to get loose.

  The woman was a petite thing, slender and lovely, and she tried to contort her way out of them, working her thin wrists like they would slip through.

  They didn’t.

  Once the criminals were satisfied that they were, indeed, stuck, they gave in.

  Silas grinned. “Valiant efforts,” he lied. “But Her Majesty’s justice awaits.”

  “One day you will find yourself with someone you cannot capture,” the woman said, her voice slow and heavily accented as she pronounced the words in the Common language of that Quadrant. “And then what will you do?”

  Cress looked at him and Silas shrugged. “Dunno. I guess we’ll wait and see if that far off dream ever happens. Now, come on. You have a date with a holding cell, and the sooner I drop you off, the sooner I can go have a drink.”

  The woman spat at him, but he sidestepped it, giving her a chiding look before he and Cress led them from the landing dock all the way up through the city so they could head to the fortress.

  As they walked along, people called out to them. Even if they hadn’t been wearing the indicative blue and gold uniform, it was hard not to recognize someone in HIMA. They were all built similarly, on thick, strong lines, tall and muscular. If they were of the same race as Silas and Cress, which most of them were, native to Gathra and its surrounding moons, then they all boasted the same silvery blue skin and blue eyes, though those could vary in shade.

  They all walked with a straight backed-ness and had a cocky swagger about them that marked them as what they were. Whenever they passed through crowded areas of the capital, the markets or pleasure districts, the docks or trading arena, then they were hailed and given gifts and offers and all manner of other things. It was just common to let the ones who kept you safe know how much you appreciated it.

  Silas tried not to take advantage, but he’d been called to chase down these two in the middle of preparing his dinner, so when a love
ly seller of meat pastries stopped him to hand over a small basket stuffed to the brim with her fare, he couldn’t help but grin and accept it, tipping his head in her direction and digging into the basket immediately.

  Him eating a piping hot pastry while leading a criminal to justice just caused the people on the streets to cheer while said criminal just grumbled under her breath.

  He supposed it was a bit unfair. “Want one?” he offered some to her, holding a pastry up and pressing it towards her mouth.

  “If you bring your hand any closer, I will bite it off,” she said, mouth opening wider to show off dangerously sharp side teeth.

  Silas held his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Keep away from your mouth. Got it.”

  Cress looked considering. “How do you please a man with that mouth?”

  The woman looked disgusted, and she glared at him, fury in her acid green eyes. “Every woman is not put here to please men,” she snapped. “And women are not so fearful of a little bite.”

  Silas got it immediately and started to laugh, while Cress seemed to take much longer to put her words together to form a whole picture. “Oh,” he said. “Well. Then.” Silas just laughed harder.

  They dropped their prisoners off and headed together for The Skip, the cantina they both preferred when they were in the capital. It was on the edges of the city proper, halfway between the trading arena and the pleasure district, but just a bit closer to the latter. Which, of course, made it much looser than say, Shama’s, which was closer to the fortress and always crawling with HIMA members.

  The Skip was nearly always full of them, too, but for entirely different reasons.

  It was one of the older cantinas in the city, a ramshackle place that had existed since the time of the Old Emperor. Back then, it had been a way house between the more affluent market district and the pleasure district. Many members of HIMA had used it to watch for illicit activity going on between the two areas of the capital, but that had just fostered distrust between the people and the Emperor, so the practice had been outlawed at the end of the Emperor’s reign. When he died and Ammaline succeeded him to the title, she ordered that something else be done with the place.

  And thus it had been turned into The Skip.

  Tables and bar stools were always full to bursting at this time of night, and the pretty serving women kept spirits and food coming from the back.

  As soon as they stepped in, the raucous noise hit them, and it took some getting used to before they were acclimated.

  There was a gaggle of Prevarian women in one corner, hooded and veiled as their order required, and passing around a goblet filled with a pearly white liquid that gave off a telltale shimmer in the low light. Andolish men had a table to themselves in the center of the cantina, and they were laughing and betting over a game of Shol. All manner of other creatures and races packed the cantina, and Cress and Silas had to push through the throng to make their way to the bar so they could order their drinks.

  Soran, the current proprietor of The Skip, a pretty Havari woman with dark skin and darker eyes, grinned and saluted them as they approached.

  “Well, well,” she said in her sprawling Havar accent, all long vowels and rounded endings. “If it isn’t HIMA’s finest.”

  “Evening, Soran,” Silas said, setting himself down on a barstool that he could have sworn someone was sitting on only moments ago.

  She leaned against the bar as Cress took a seat as well. “What was it tonight?” she asked. “Chasing down murderers? Bringing outlaws in for the Empress’ justice?”

  Cress snorted. “Petty thievery,” he said.

  “Well, that’s dull,” Soran replied.

  “Still falls under our job description,” Silas pointed out. “They were moving fast in one of those old speeders from the First War, you know.”

  “And you’re the best pilot in the Army,” Soran said, winking at him.

  “He is not!” Cress complained. “I was right there with him.”

  “You were behind me,” Silas pointed out. “The whole way there.”

  “My ship-”

  “Was exactly the same as mine.”

  Soran roared with laughter and then pulled down two glasses from the back shelves. “You two make running this joint worthwhile, I have to say. It’s nice to know that some members of HIMA can be, you know, people.”

  Cress shrugged. “Eh, we’re all people. Just some of the senior members take themselves too seriously. Comes with the rank increase, I guess.”

  “Speaking of,” Soran said, pouring their drinks and sliding them over before she leaned closer. “I’ve heard a rumor.”

  That caught their attention immediately. As someone in a position right smack dab between the two major districts of the capital, all gossip that flowed through The Skip in either direction was right there for Soran to hear. She was an expert at filtering out the nonsense and the things that were blatantly untrue and finding the nuggets of truth and useful info. She passed on what she thought was relevant, but could never have been accused of being a snitch or a rat. It made her excellent at her job, and was one of the reasons why Silas and the others who came to The Skip always made a point to speak with her.

  “What did you hear?” Cress asked, all baited breath.

  Soran snorted. “It’s about flyboy over here,” she said, pointing a long finger at Silas and looking at him with her fathomless eyes.

  “Me?”

  “Mmhmm. Curious now?”

  He had been before, but now he was especially. “Of course.”

  “Well, it seems like Her Imperial Majesty has been speaking of promotions, weighing her options, as it were.”

  “How would you know that?” Cress wanted to know.

  “The servants listen, and they talk,” Soran told him. “And then they go spend their credits in the pleasure rooms, and all that comes back to me.”

  Silas didn’t need her to make the connection. “Me?” he asked again.

  “You. Excited?”

  He made a face. As much of an honor as it would be to be a leader, he was…unsure. Leading meant less time for things like speeding through the stars taunting Cress as they chased down petty criminals stupid enough to run. It meant longer hours, more data work, and less action in general. The whispers in the lower ranks said that the higher ups were so stuffy because they never got to kill anything. He didn’t want that to happen to him.

  But he’d have to be a fool to turn down a promotion from Her Imperial Majesty.

  “Sure,” he said blandly, and knocked back his drink.

  Prequel Two: Second Shift

  “This is WFQK, Lite Talk for your drive into work. It’s 7:23 am, a balmy seventy two degrees out there, but enjoy it while you can, folks. The dog days of summer will be here soon enough. For those of you on the Westbound connector, you’re looking at another fifteen or twenty minutes added to your commute while an accident is cleared off to the side. Two lanes are still blocked and traffic is positively crawling. As always, your morning report is sponsored by Melbin’s Jewelers. ‘For a diamond as bright as her smile, it has to be Melbin’s’.”

  Katia rolled her eyes and hit the button to scan through the radio stations while she turned onto the road that would lead her to the highway. An extra fifteen minutes to the commute wouldn’t make her late for work, but it did mean that she wouldn’t have the chance to stop and get her usual coffee and a bagel on the way in.

  The first five seconds of pop songs played while the scanner did its job, and she stopped it when she heard the opening bars to a song she really liked, singing along as she drove.

  “You’re listening to Live 103.5,” said the DJ when the song ended. “And that was Slowly, Deeply, Always by Jenna Pry. It’s 7:30, and for our half time this morning, we’ve got something interesting for you all. Daniel Simmons is a name most of us recognize these days. If you haven’t seen him on the news, telling stories of his very own close encounters, then you surely know him from memes on
Facebook. I bet if you check your feed, you’ll see one in the first five posts right now. Go on, I’ll wait.” He paused, and Katia rolled her eyes again. As if anyone was actually checking their phone for Facebook updates when half the city was in their cars on the way to work.

  She went to change the station, but something made her pause. Katia knew the name Daniel Simmons. It was hard to find anyone who didn’t these days, the DJ was right about that. He was the latest in a string of people all claiming to have seen aliens in the last couple of years, but unlike the rest of them, he’d had photographic evidence.

  …Of a sort.

  There was only so much you could prove from a grainy cell phone picture, but there was definitely a large, hulking shape in the image that had been shown on every major news network and late night comedy talk show for the last month or so.