Soros: Alien Warlord's Conquest (Scifi Alien - Human Military Romance)

by Vi Voxley

  The only comfort he had left was that Turian hadn't seen her face. At least Kat had listened to him that much.

  They walked.

  In theory, her plan wasn't bad, other than the small matter of the bastard clan lord now knowing he was chasing two instead of one. Soros knew exactly where to go. His hands itched for his swords, but he refused to give in to the urge.

  Now that he knew what Turian was capable of, he needed a new plan – one that didn't include butchering him in broad daylight and bringing the wrath of his warriors down on Dolon Hall.

  He grinned, thinking that the Hall was far from helpless, but bravery was a poor substitute for a shield against bombardment. Soros had been keeping an eye on Turian's doings ever since he became a clan lord. The men he promoted were nothing more than killers. He would have to find a way to take them all down before the realm could see peace again.

  Soros was willing to agree with the rebels on that matter. The Galactic Union hadn't even properly arrived, yet already the signs of political intrigue were everywhere.

  He had been given an opportunity to end it before the situation spiraled quickly out of control. If he took out Turian and his followers, the others would fall in line. And if they didn't... Soros frowned.

  So there he was. Fighting Nadar's battles for him after all. Soros wondered if there was a place for him at the end of all of it. Kat seemed to believe that the chieftain would simply let him be, but Soros wasn't so certain. Corgans were a suspicious bunch, down to their very core. Nadar was no exception.

  But Kat was right about some things, this much he had to admit. He'd thought he could stand aside and leave himself out of it all, but that was a false hope. Every battle, every war, no matter how small, had its gravity. And whatever went on in the Corgan realm kept pulling him in. He'd deluded himself into thinking he could stay neutral, but the bastards – Turian and the chieftain both – had forced his hand.

  He would be no pawn of theirs, but Soros refused to look at the unfolding events from a distance any longer

  Beside him, Turian was still grinning, but there was an undeniable discomfort in his movements. A warrior didn't like to be held at gunpoint. Soros was infinitely thankful to the Palians for their perfect design. Even he didn't know whether Kat still followed them, Turian's men were bound to be just as blind, if not more.

  But Turian saw shadows everywhere even without his help. Soros could see him looking for a way to run before he said it was fine. They were still in a dangerous area with nothing but smooth walls to either side of them. There would be no escaping, at least not on foot against a whole fighter unit.

  "Don't bother," he warned the clan lord. "If you move, I will kill you myself."

  The clan lord glared at him with no fear in his eyes for a change – apparently there was still some pride left in Turian.

  "You think you're invincible, Soros," he snarled. "I remember you never letting us forget that. Like none of us had ever held a sword in our lives."

  "You gave me good reason by acting like you hadn't."

  This goading was childish, Soros knew that, but there was something extremely satisfying in seeing Turian bristle. The clan lord wasn't a bad fighter, not even close. Most Corgan titles were taken by force and Turian’s was no exception. The man he'd killed hadn't been unskilled either. But Soros had realized the truth a long time ago and Ustra had recognized it in him.

  It wasn't that he was that much better than the rest. He'd fought all the current clan lords at one time or other and knew what they were capable of. The chieftain was fast and clever, winning by creating the circumstances to do so. Daegon was a stubborn fighter, forcing his will on the world by powering through any obstacle in his way.

  And Turian was, simply put, the dirtiest fighter Soros had ever seen. He used techniques from every species they'd ever encountered, creating an entirely new mode of fighting. Good, great fighters had lost to him because Turian had used the ingenious trick of finding out who they had experience against.

  In a way, Soros admired Turian. If only his intelligence hadn’t been coupled with the absolute need to stay in power, the one thing he'd always wanted. Even his nephews had been a testament to that – he'd wanted to make his position inheritable. Unheard of, but if the boys had been good enough, possible.

  Soros wasn't necessarily faster, stronger and cleverer than them. He was more powerful than most Corgans, but most importantly, he was himself. It was the prospect of facing him that won him battles long before they ever began.

  That was the reason Turian was acting as if he were walking on knives. The fear Soros had instilled into his students at Dolon Hall had never really let go. He had been an unforgiving master, driving them with an iron will to make sure they were prepared for everything.

  They feared him. All of them. And the thing one is afraid of always wins over rationality.

  Some of his cleverer students had figured that out in the end, but by then it had been too late. Soros was actually looking forward to seeing the chieftain again after so many years. He wondered if Nadar too would be unable to hide the flash of terror that had passed behind Turian's eyes.

  Silence had stretched for a while now, but it was growing quieter. The fighters were hanging back as Turian had instructed. Soon, it would be enough for the other warrior to hear Kat. He didn't want to risk that. Her ploy could easily have been used against Soros as well, and he was pretty sure Turian knew that. If he managed to grab her, even if Soros killed him in the end, nothing could bring her back from the dead.

  Luckily, the passage was not far anymore. All of a sudden, the clan lord laughed out loud. Soros thought he could hear someone move behind them, Kat adjusting her aim to shoot as soon as Turian tried to flee. But that was not what the joke was about.

  "You want to go in the ice," Turian stated simply. "That is a true sign of desperation, Commander."

  Yes. I might just be.

  "I remember you failing this one miserably," he said out loud. "Seems like the best way to shake you."

  Turian didn't let the insult get to him. Soros' plan had evidently put him in a great mood again.

  "I'm sure you would," he said. "But with her, you might as well let my fighters cut you down. It would be more merciful than dying out there, frozen and broken. How long do you think it will take for her to slip and fall? Does she know how long it takes to freeze to death?"

  Turian was no longer talking to him. Without knowing where to turn, Soros simply said, "Don't listen to him."

  She didn't answer. They kept walking until the passage ended and there was nothing but blinding light up ahead. The (hopefully) three of them were standing above an ocean of ice, a glacier of pure white. It was the start of another course he'd devised, but Soros had had warriors in mind. Alone, unhindered. But despite all the evidence to the contrary, he couldn't think of Kat as a hindrance.

  "I suppose this is where you leave me," Turian said.

  Soros looked back. The fighters were still close enough to have a read on them, but nothing hid body heat like an ice field.

  "Throw the rifle away," he replied. "The swords too."

  Turian didn't question him, doing as he'd instructed. Soros ordered him to back away as far as he could while still being able to keep an eye on him.

  "Come here," he called Kat.

  Without knowing her exact position, Soros had simply assumed that she was keeping close to him, but he'd been wrong. Like before, Kat was behind Turian, holding him at aim at his most inconvenient angle. But that had only worked while they were close to the fighters.

  Here, on the edge of the ice, where the cliffs towering above them silenced the wind... Soros heard her the moment Turian did.

  Soros charged ahead, crashing into the clan lord. They both went down, rolling on the ground, but the damage was already done. Kat stood, unmasked, pointing the gun at Turian again, but he had gotten what he’d wanted. Seeing that she'd been exposed, Kat turned the device off.

 
The desire to simply cut his throat and be done with it was burning in his blood, but Soros stood without unsheathing his swords. He would find a way to deal with Turian without causing innocent lives to be lost.

  After all, Dolon Hall was also home to many others besides warriors. The entire next generation of Corgans studied there. He couldn't let Turian's men level it as revenge for his temper.

  Turian stood, looking behind to check if his fighters were providing support.

  "She is a beauty," he said, unable to let the opportunity to gloat slip by.

  Soros wanted to say that she wasn't anyone he had to be concerned about, but that would only have proven his affection even further. Without comment, he pulled her back with him to the glacier.

  "All the things he said, about the ice," Kat whispered to him as they backed to the edge of the passage. "I don't want to get in your way. And I'm not that keen on dying either."

  "Not another word," Soros warned, but he could see the knowing smile on Turian's face.

  He put his hands around her, feeling her lean into the touch, unthinking. There was no going back now, not for either of them. No words could have helped Kat get away from this confrontation. She wasn't a nobody to Turian anymore. She was the most valued piece in the game they played.

  "We will have to jump," he told her quietly, feeling the way the ground gave out behind his feet. "You have to trust me."

  "I trust you," she whispered, and though he believed her without question, it wasn't enough.

  Turian was standing motionless quite far from them, but Soros knew how deceptive that was, and he suspected Kat did too. The smile on the clan lord's face spoke plenty of what he thought their odds were.

  "You must trust me completely," Soros specified, uncaring whether Turian heard them or not.

  There was no way the clan lord would follow them, so it made little difference. It was so much more important that Kat knew how to survive the first few vital minutes.

  "I don't want to hurt you, but I must. Turian is damnably fast. It will take him a few seconds to get to the gun and one more to reach the edge. If you get hit with that... you saw your fighter."

  He could feel her nod and the way a shiver went down her spine.

  "When I say so, relax your whole body. Let me pull you where we need to go. Don't cling or we will both fall. I need you to put your life in my hands."

  "Yes," she replied, although her voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper.

  "Now," Soros said and Kat fired.

  Her action took him by surprise, but Turian got the worst of it. Soros took one moment to see she'd hit him square in the right thigh and then they dropped.

  His instincts kicked in as the only thought that rushed through his mind was, Not a bad shot indeed.

  She was amazing as they fell, sliding down the hill. Soros held her limp body against his chest, moving as though she was nothing more than additional equipment to carry. He steered them as best as he could, but the going was rough.

  Kat was performing better than he could have hoped. He could feel her heartbeat grow wild under his grip, but she fought as hard as she could against the instinct to try and hold on.

  A shot went past them. Turian had reached the edge at last, but they were moving with enough speed already that it went wide over their heads. Soros thought he could hear the clan lord's angry roar echo, but it didn't matter. The distance they'd traveled sliding down the side of the mountain right onto the wide open of the ice was too much for anyone's aim. Actually hitting them was practically impossible, but he couldn't fault Turian for trying.

  He could hear that the fighters were approaching. No doubt calling them had been Turian's first move after seeing the rifle was useless.

  There was a small hill up ahead, and below it, another passage. Soros had trained in it many times, but with Kat, even reaching the cover was difficult. He was used to aiming with only his body weight and now he had to compensate for two.

  She was amazing, incredible. As they sped towards the hill with nothing to indicate that they weren't going to become bloody specks on the white ice, Kat only screamed. She fought her reflexes to the end, only throwing her hands around him when they slid into the hill with full speed and dropped below.

  Soros tried to shield her from the worst blows, but the tunnel was knocking them around like pebbles in an avalanche. Above their heads, fighters opened fire on the ice, but they were too deep for it to reach them. They needed to move before a lucky hit crashed the ceiling, but that was the last thing on Soros' mind.

  They had landed, Soros' arms still wrapped around Kat. He pushed himself up, bruised and battered, but alive.

  "Kat," he called, pulling her unconscious body into his lap. "Kat!"

  Chapter Thirteen

  Soros

  He could no longer hear her breathe.

  It filled Soros with terror he couldn't remember feeling in his life. Every bit of danger he'd inflicted upon Kat, every moment since they met, he had always considered her soft breathing to be the most natural thing in the world. Even back in the cave and during their escape from it, Soros had somehow felt that she was alive and near.

  Now that beautiful creature lay across his lap, unmoving. Soros couldn't imagine anything more horrifying than that sight, after the way she'd done so well out on the ocean of ice. He fumbled in his belt, looking for anything that might help.

  She wasn't gone yet, but the fall had been too much for her. As his panic passed, Soros could feel her chest move, but only ever so slightly. With nothing else to do, Soros slipped an adrenaline pill between her soft lips.

  She had been tossed around like a leaf in the wind, but now Kat's body needed a kick to start fighting.

  As soon as he felt her swallow the medicine, a shock went through her body. He held her through the trembles that wrecked her small frame, hoping he hadn't made a mistake. That was the problem with different species and classes – everything he had was meant for Corgan warriors, with years of training and organs she didn't possess. The effect was immediate, but just as dangerous to her as her condition.

  Soros could only hope that she'd be able to pull through.

  When the adrenaline had run its course, Kat fell back into his lap, now appearing to sleep. Her breathing returned to normal, but Soros didn't count her safe just yet. If the noise was anything to go by, the fighters were probably blasting the little hill to pieces on top of their heads. They were deep within the ice, and finally, even Soros started to notice the cold.

  Moving was essential. To get away from the place that was about to collapse and to get warm. The path through the ice was treacherous, nearly impossible to traverse for Kat, but that was the only way out. At least Turian would have trouble tracking them, with the tunnels spreading out in every direction.

  Soros hesitated. He didn't want to wake her, not when her life hung in the balance, but if she didn't move, she'd freeze. He could carry her, but motionless, the cold would take her before they got out.

  There was nothing to be done.

  "Kat," he called again. "Can you hear me?"

  After a few moments, she opened her beautiful blue eyes and looked up at him. Soros didn't think he'd ever seen a more gorgeous sight or one he cherished more. He'd been afraid that he would never see light in those eyes again.

  "What," she whispered, "what happened?"

  "We made it," he responded. "We are in the ice. Safe for the moment. But you took a bad beating from it on our way down."

  "I remember," Kat murmured. "You were holding me. How are you not more hurt than I am?"

  Soros smiled. He couldn't help it, her ridiculous concern over his well-being was curiously endearing. No one had ever worried about him like that before, mostly because there hadn't been a need. There still wasn't, but the fact that she cared was exhilarating.

  "My armor is made to endure things like that, yours is made to sneak," he offered. "And I won't repeat the rest. You wouldn’t like it."

&
nbsp; A tired smile dawned on her face. Soros hated the idea of doing anything to make it go away, but they needed to start going.

  "We have to move now," he said. "Turian won't forgive you for that shot. His warriors are searching the area already. Can you hear that? Soon he'll find those brave enough to come down after us. They can't catch us here."

  He didn't mention the rest, mainly the need to keep blood flowing in their veins. Kat was already shivering in his arms. Ironically, he was glad that they'd spent their nights in biting cold. It would help a bit with her endurance, but not for long.

  Soros got up and helped Kat to her feet. Even there, on relatively stable ground, she slipped and nearly fell. He caught her, wondering how they were going to make it out of there alive. If he'd left her, he could have reached the edge of the ice quickly enough, but that wasn't an option. They would leave together or not at all.

  "Any chance your suit has a feature that might help you walk on ice?" he asked, hoping that his clumsy attempt to make a joke would lighten her mood.

  It seemed to do the job. Kat smiled sadly, shaking her head.

  "Nothing like that," she said. "But I will mention it to the Palians once we get out of here. I can't imagine their field tests included a place like this."

  "Probably not," Soros agreed.

  "I have an idea though," Kat said then. "Do we have anything we could use for rope?"

  "Not as such. Clothes are the closest we can get."

  "Than we should do that. My shirt is made to endure, it should hold at least that much. Help me take this off."

  Undressing her should have been a pleasant task for Soros, but he could barely watch as her soft skin slowly turned blue because of the cold. By the time she slipped out of her shirt, her teeth were clattering so hard she could barely speak.

  Kat rubbed her arms before donning the armor again, wincing when the cold metal touched her bare skin. Soros wished he could have used his, but in their morning rush, he'd left the shirt.

  She had been right about the cloth. The Union apparently made the clothes intended to be worn under armor durable. Kat cut through it with a dagger, fashioning it into a rope. He tied one end of it around his left arm and Kat did the same to her right. Like that, if she fell, he could at least catch her. It also meant they were depending on each other, but there was no other way.