by Anna Carven
“Stubborn Kordolian.”
“Impossible Human.”
“You’re not as bad as you look, soldier.”
“Oh, I can be, if I want to. But not with you. Never with you.” Kalan’s voice softened as he stroked her hair, marveling at his good fortune.
The Universe bestowed her gifts in mysterious ways.
Not in his wildest dreams could Kalan have imagined he’d be lucky enough to have his own female. On Kythia, he was feared and shunned.
His chances of being accepted by a Kordolian female were nonexistent, not that it mattered to him anyway.
The shortage of females on Kythia was so extreme that most females took multiple mates, absorbing them into some Noble House or other, where they ended up as little more than glorified pleasure slaves.
Kalan had never been interested in seeking out such a fate. It wasn’t his style.
Kalan didn’t like sharing.
He would let nothing stand in the way of his relationship with Jia.
“You know,” Jia said wistfully, “considering everything that’s happened, I suddenly feel so small in the grand scheme of things. Now that your people have appeared in our little corner of the Universe, I feel as if Earth’s history is about to change course, and that terrifies me.”
“I told you, no harm will come to you.”
“And if the Kordolian Empire decides to claim Earth as one of her territories? What about my people, Kalan?”
Kalan shrugged. “Not all is as it seems on Kythia. I have the feeling the Empire will soon be too preoccupied to worry about an insignificant planet like Earth.”
“I hope to hell that you’re right about that.” She shook her head. “You know, I’d heard that you Kordolians were a cruel and ruthless species. But from what I’ve seen, you’re actually quite honorable. You didn’t have to evacuate the Humans from Fortuna Tau, yet you did.”
“It’s one of the basic rules of planetary colonization,” Kalan replied, keeping his tone deadpan. “Endear yourselves to the natives but keep them off-guard, plant a seed of fear in their minds, and keep a bargaining chip handy. Force is to be used only when necessary. Unnecessary force is a waste of time and resources.”
Jia punched him gently in the arm, making a face. “I really don’t know whether you’re being serious or not.”
“I’m dead serious, Jia. If your people play nice, we won’t bite. But cross us, fight us, or piss us off in any way, and Humans will find out the hard way why we have such a reputation.” He paused. “I’ll admit, though, I had a say in getting those Humans off Fortuna Tau. But I had reasons. Selfish ones.”
“Such as?”
“I didn’t want you to be upset. That is all.”
Jia stepped back and regarded him with a serious expression. For a while, she was quiet, and Kalan wondered if he’d upset her somehow.
She was always doing this; catching him off-guard and making him fear he’d done something wrong. The more time he spent with her, the more he started to question himself.
This had never happened before.
Abruptly, she patted him on the chest, having come to some sort of conclusion. “It’s called empathy, Kalan,” she said quietly, a sense of wonder creeping into her voice. “And for that, thank you.”
Kalan would never admit it, but her words made him feel strange, in a good way.
Her reaction pleased him immensely, but her inscrutable expression hadn’t changed. She ran her fingers down his cheek. “You look… different, somehow. What’s happening to you, Kalan?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The longer she stared at him, the more it became obvious. His strong features were a little more prominent, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced than before.
He had a lean, hungry look to him that hadn’t been there before.
Even his magnificent body appeared leaner. The differences were subtle, but they were there.
How was this possible?
“What are you staring at, Human?” Kalan narrowed his eyes.
“Have you lost weight?” It was faintly absurd to be asking him such a question, but she had to know. She didn’t know anything about Kordolian biology, apart from what she’d just, uh, discovered.
If she was to start caring for this big, intimidating male, then she had to understand how he worked, and what made him tick.
“My body is healing,” Kalan explained, his tone rather nonchalant, as if it was no big deal. “The virulent black nanites dwelling in my bloodstream require energy to synthesize proteins and repair tissue. If they don’t have enough energy, they start to consume anything they can get.”
“Including… you?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s… awful,” she commiserated. Half of what he’d told her hadn’t made sense, but she got the idea. Something to do with nanites, wound repair, and that crazy black exo-armor that he seemed to be able to manipulate at will. “What can we do to make it stop? I don’t want to get to Earth and find out that you’ve turned into a walking skeleton.”
“Any protein source will do.”
“I’m on it.” Still naked, she swept through the small galley area, identifying a basic food-dispensing bot beneath the counter. She bent down and flicked through the menu, searching for something reasonably edible.
What did Kordolians eat, anyway?
The food-bot was out of meat. There was no milk substitute. There were plenty of noodle options, but that wouldn’t help Kalan. He needed protein.
She settled on scrambled eggs. Of course, it was the recombinant stuff; a mixture of artificially grown egg-protein produced in a factory somewhere, but it would work.
Jia entered her selection on a small command-pad and waited as the food-bot whirred to life. Moments later, a steaming portion of lurid yellow eggs was deposited into the chute below. It sat in a white rapigrade tray. Jia found a fork and handed the concoction to Kalan, who sniffed it with a dubious expression on his face.
“This is in no way representative of Earth food,” she warned him, as he took a bite.
His face didn’t change as he ate; there was no suggestion of either enjoyment or disgust. He simply ate, quickly, methodically, finishing the double-serve of eggs in a few bites.
“It is protein,” he shrugged. “It works. Do you have more?”
Jia was already onto it, ordering another serve. She didn’t like the idea that all this time, he’d been suffering in silence, while she’d been enjoying herself.
“Sit,” she commanded, dragging Kalan over to the seat. She retrieved the cooked eggs from the food-bot and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
Kalan ate with military precision, demolishing the rest of his food.
“You are not eating?” He thrust a forkful of egg towards her.
Jia shook her head, waving it away. “You eat. You’re the one who needs it most. I didn’t realize you’d been injured. Those nanites in your body… they help you heal?”
“Yes, but they need energy in the form of protein.”
“That’s… amazing.” The implications were mind-boggling, and more than a little terrifying.
What had Jia gotten herself into?
Now that she’d stepped across the threshold, there was no going back. For better or for worse, she had a big muscular Kordolian by her side, and something told her he wasn’t ever going to let her go.
A few bad things had happened to Jia during her short, rather uneventful life. Being stuck with her very own walking wet-dream wasn’t one of them.
Now if only he could convince his people not to turn Earth into their personal little slave-colony, they could both live happily-ever-after.
There was just the small matter of the Xargek to deal with.
And for that, they needed the Kordolians.
What was that thing her literary-minded friend Abbey always said?
A Catch-22. That’s what it was.
Jia prayed to Jupiter that her friend was okay. If the Gener
al was anything like Kalan, she’d be okay. She hoped Kalan was right and that the scary General would return Abbey in one piece, and preferably not traumatized.
But it was out of her hands. All she could do was wait and hope.
As Kalan finished his eggs, he gave her an odd look, inclining his head. “You’re doing it again,” he remarked.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too much. You are difficult to read sometimes, woman.”
“I don’t mean to-” As Jia sought to explain, there was a great crash, and the entire ship shook, listing to one side. Jia fell backwards, only to be caught by Kalan’s deft hands. He reached out and snagged her lacy pink panties,m handing them to her.
Kalan cursed viciously in Kordolian. “Get dressed,” he urged, as Jia slid off his lap and began to pull on her undies. Her jumpsuit was next to go on. He offered her his arm as he stood, somehow maintaining his balance as the cruiser rocked from side to side.
“What the hell was that?”
“External hit,” Kalan grunted. “Get ready. There’s going to be a firefight.”
“We’re being attacked?” Jia slid her arms into her sleeves, her hair whipping about as Kalan tried to steady her. “Who the hell would go after us at a time like this?”
“Perhaps it’s the ones who are behind the destruction of your mining station. They seem to want us dead at all costs.”
She looked up. Kalan’s body began to transform right before her eyes. It was an eerie thing to watch. Tiny black dots appeared all over his body, increasing in density until they coalesced together, forming the outline of his armor.
The exo-suit became seamless, gaining form and structure. All the while, Kalan remained expressionless, as if it was no big deal.
Jia was flabbergasted.
If the Kordolians were capable of producing technology this advanced, Humans had no chance against them.
The cruiser swerved, throwing her against the counter as they sustained another hit, this time from the starboard side. Kalan grabbed her as the ship rocked violently.
That’s when they started to float.
“The ship’s gravitron just blew,” Jia gasped, as her body became weightless. She snatched her boots as they floated past. Kalan grabbed one of the hold-rails on the wall, dragging them away from the galley. With a sharp tug he propelled them forward, heading towards the ladder.
He seemed quite comfortable in a zero G environment.
Of course he did.
Was there anything he hadn’t trained for?
Jia allowed herself to be pulled along. She managed to slip on one boot, doing up the fastening as they reached the ladder. With her body suspended in mid-air, she tugged on her other boot.
Kalan guided her down into the opening, and she grabbed the metal rungs, still trying to get used to the feeling of weightlessness.
Before being deployed to Fortuna Tau, she’d undergone standard space training, which had included a brief stint in a no-gravity environment.
But no-one really ever expected to experience a full-blown gravitron malfunction. It was a rare occurrence, except for when the cruiser you were in just happened to get hit by enemy fire.
Jia made it down to the main cabin, with Kalan following close behind her. He guided her to her seat and made sure she was strapped in. Then, he floated into the cockpit, utilizing the emergency handholds that were located all around the cabin.
Jia overheard a harsh exchange of words spoken in a mixture of both Universal and Kordolian.
He returned with a grim expression on his face, floating across to where Jia sat.
Whomp. The cruiser shook again, the victim of another hit. Kalan strapped himself in beside Jia as they swerved violently, the entire cabin creaking and groaning with the sheer force of it.
Bits of junk floated past her; there were tools and weapons and random scraps of packaging. Clearly, the mercenaries hadn’t expected the gravity to go either.
“What’s happening?”
“Human mercenaries,” Kalan grunted, his voice tinged with disgust. “Two armed cruisers, trying to take us out.”
“Can we outrun them?” They’d already taken damage; Jia feared their small SX-45 wouldn’t be able to take any more hits.
“We’re not going to outrun them,” Kalan replied ominously. “We’re going to take them out.”
“Take them out?” Alarm crept into Jia’s voice. Out in open space, they were very, very vulnerable. “Are you insane? Shouldn’t we be trying to shake them off?”
“If we don’t destroy them, we suspect they will attack the freighter next. Someone from your planet seems very intent on killing us at all costs.” Kalan’s jaw was rigid, and his eyes were cold. “Is this behavior typical of Humans, Jia?”
Her first instinct was to tell him no, but that would be a lie.
Human history was riddled with horrific tales of treachery. For the most part, wars on Earth had become a thing of the past, but there were still places where her own species killed one another.
For stupid reasons.
Petty reasons.
Money, land, religion; these things seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of the Universe.
So when she heard that mercenaries had been sent to sink Fortuna Tau because of corporate risk, or stock prices, or some other such stupidity, she could well believe it.
“My people… do stupid shit from time to time,” she answered finally, with an apologetic shrug.
“When we reach Earth, I will find out who’s responsible for this, and I will make them pay,” Kalan said, his voice chillingly calm.
“You really think we’re going to make it?”
Kalan regarded her with a look of unshakeable confidence. “Lodan has taken over the flying. He is a supremely skilled pilot, and a genius who, given time, can figure out how to fly any type of alien craft. Now that he’s observed the Human pilots for some time, he can handle this.” He leaned across and put his lips close to Jia’s ear. “Do not worry, my love. We are not going to allow you to die on this primitive shitbox.”
She shuddered as a warm feeling surged through her. Despite the dire situation they were in, somehow, she believed him.
If Kalan was saying it, then it had to be true.
“Hold on now,” he warned, as the cruiser accelerated, throwing Jia back in her seat. Across from them, the Station Boss swore, sweat beading on his fleshy face. The other Kordolian, Nythian, was sitting back in his seat with a lazy half-smile playing across his face.
Seriously, who could smile at a time like this?
Probably only a Kordolian.
The cruiser tipped to the side, throwing Jia around in her seat, despite the restraints that crossed her body.
She stared up at the monitor and saw two blips in the distance, closing in on them. They grew larger in size as they neared.
Jia gasped as a missile flew towards them. Then they were swerving violently, doing a full ninety-degree flip as the pilot maneuvered their small craft out of harm’s way.
The missile shot past, before looping around to chase them.
They slowed, and Jia’s pulse skyrocketed as the missile closed in on them.
“We’re going to die,” shouted Emin, his knuckles white as he gripped his armrests.
Kalan and Nythian didn’t react. They looked perfectly calm.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, they dropped.
Jia’s stomach flipped as their cruiser lost altitude, plummeting through space at great speed. The attacking craft disappeared from the monitors as they plunged out of range.
It didn’t seem physically possible. How had the pilot managed that?
The missile disappeared, probably streaking overhead. There was a muffled boom, then a small shockwave rocked the cruiser.
“One down,” Kalan said darkly. “Now, we go on the offensive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Outwardly, Kalan revealed no emotion, but inside, he was se
ething.
Treacherous Humans.
Why were they attacking their small convoy of escapees, both Kordolian and Human alike, when there was a Xargek ship heading for their planet?
Someone had their priorities mixed up.
Whoever was behind the attack didn’t seem to understand that if they took out the First Division, Earth would be doomed.
Did they even know what the Xargek were capable of? Apparently not. It seemed Kythia wasn’t the only planet populated with fools and idiots.
In the cockpit, Lodan was navigating the cruiser with his usual skill and ingenuity, and after evading the first missile, Kalan knew he would seize his advantage and attack.
The kid had the reflexes of a wild szkazajik and a good head for planning unorthodox moves. He was capable of finding impossible openings whilst luring his enemies into a false sense of security.
And as soon as they’d understood the situation, the two Human mercenaries in the cockpit had fallen into line, outraged that their fellow Humans would go after them in such a way.
But as one of them had said, that’s business.
Mercenaries. They were the same the Universe over.
All that mattered to them were the credits.
The thrusters roared and they accelerated again, going almost vertical as they climbed. Beside him, Jia had turned pale, and her eyes were wide with fear.
Kalan had long since forgotten what it was like to be afraid of death. That was what happened when you were forced into a program designed to create biologically enhanced super soldiers.
All of them had ended up with monstrous abilities, but there had been a price to pay.
A part of Kalan was missing.
Perhaps Jia was that missing piece. As he caressed her thigh, she turned to look at him.
There were no words for what passed between them then.
There was just a gentle look from Kalan, his gaze softening as he took in the fatigue around her eyes, and the tension in her body. The constant acceleration forces were hitting her hard; she was obviously unused to open-space combat flight.
Her dark hair floated in front of her face, partly obscuring her features. Kalan grabbed a strand and tucked it behind her ear as the ship started to level out.