by Reagan Woods
Top marks in training earned him access to the archives. Through diligent research, he uncovered the original CORANOS Galactic Alliance treaty agreements. Each side playing to strength, Corians were to provide technical expertise and muscle to the CGA while the Doranos brought administrative know-how and a vast network of contacts to the table. Because there were so many fewer females in Corian Space, both sides agreed Warriors would have The Right to Seek Claim over any females conquered or otherwise absorbed into the CGA. Somewhere along the line, though, Generals quit demanding spoils for their Warriors until the Right to Seek Claim was no longer in the collective Warrior memory.
After that discovery, Calyx made becoming a model Warrior his mission. It had seemed fated when his battle group was assigned to General Darvan’s armada and they’d hit a payload the size of Earth both in natural resources and in female population.
When he’d stumbled across Tara, he’d known it was time to put the rest of his plan into action. A few words in the right ears and Warriors were granted the Right to Seek Claim after hundreds of years of going without. His years of patience and planning hadn’t paid off personally yet, but he wasn’t about to lose the female he’d waited for now.
Tara’s dark curls shone beneath the security light as she exited, and he straightened, stepping out of the deep shadow where he’d waited. It was time to shake off the brood and get to work. The sun wasn’t due to rise on this hellish little rock for another thirty minutes, but she would be tucked away in the kitchen by then, ready to feed the first shift of workers before they trudged out to the fields, mines or other jobs.
Like every day, she wore form-fitting black durafiber and thick black shoes. Her shiny curls bounced in a high, messy bun. He approved of the way she kept her head on a swivel, constantly checking her surroundings as she walked, and made a mental note to work with her on how to spot a tail. For now, though, he didn’t want a confrontation, so he trailed her in silence.
After tasting Tara’s passion, Calyx wasn’t certain how he could ever return to adoring her from afar. Somehow, he would make her want him – and only him.
It was a daunting task. A Corian female would never even entertain his suit, and, realistically, Tara deserved better than anything he could offer. He wasn’t wealthy, or from a prestigious line, or even particularly successful as a Warrior. Yet.
Given the whispered accounts of female Earthers engaging in scandalous behavior with certain Warriors, Calyx was seriously concerned that he might lose Tara to another male who triggered her biological response. How could he keep her from jumping every alien male who managed to corner her for any length of time? In his heart, he knew she would never voluntarily betray him once she developed true feelings for him – she was far too sweet for that, but a chemical reaction like her pheromone response would be impossible to stop once triggered. Hadn’t he experienced the proof of that last night?
Silently, he trailed as she palmed into the common building. The lights in the hall popped on automatically as she made her way to the kitchen. He gave it a few seconds and ventured close enough to peer through the big window.
Tara was already at work hauling large bowls to the center island and setting up work stations. She bustled with an efficiency that constantly amazed him. Her industriousness was a quality more people would do well to learn from. There was nothing she couldn’t plan and prepare for.
After he’d taken her to her dorm last night, he’d tracked down Silex. Together, they’d found Skylan who had just returned from a strategy meeting aboard the Victory, General Darvan’s massive warship.
Skylan, their Commanding Officer, was one of Darvan’s most trusted Warriors. He’d listened intently to Calyx’s report of the day’s events, asking several questions about the Doranos Shirok. After Calyx answered to the best of his knowledge, Skylan had praised his instincts and instructed Calyx and Silex to stick close to the Earth females they felt were the most ‘at risk’ of falling prey to whatever scheme the Doranos civilians were running.
The prevailing feeling amongst the Warriors stationed on the surface was that something was afoot. Doranos males had been tasked with running of most of the Earth work camps. It was an unusual move, but Calyx suspected General Darvan simply wanted the civilians off his warships.
Weeks ago, rumors began circulating that several of the Earth females were unable to take basic directions in Corian Standard. Most conquered people were disallowed from using their native languages after a time, but some said (and he’d experienced it firsthand) the Earthers were still using their native tongues. This oversight meant the females were vulnerable during situations where they might need to communicate with the mostly Corian Warriors.
He’d found out yesterday, a team of specialists were sent into the camps to examine the reconditioners. To their shock, standard operating procedure had been re-written to teach the females Doranos language and culture rather than Corian. General Darvan promised to put an end to the tampering, but it made the rank and file antsy.
Adding to the overall tension, Warriors had the Right to Seek Claim over Earth females, but if the Earthers were being reconditioned to the Doranos way of life, would they submit to a Corian Warrior’s Claim? Most thought not. The matter was tabled when the VENTIX, a rival to the CORANOS, attacked the armada surrounding Earth. Petty disputes over females had to be discarded for the good of the alliance.
However, Warriors continued to witness the Doranos civilians unapologetically abusing their power over the Earthers at every turn. Skylan intimated that General Darvan wanted the Doranos to believe they held charge of the Earthers, but that the females – especially – required protection no matter the cost. In short, Calyx had the go ahead to keep Tara safe. After last night, when she’d refused to speak to him throughout the tense march back to her room, he wondered how cooperative he’d find her.
Perhaps it was better if he positioned himself nearby and didn’t let her know he was there. Technically, he was due to report to the Victory in a few days, so another Warrior would have the chance to rotate off-ship. His intention was to find a way to stay close to Tara until he was assured of her safety.
Chapter Twelve
Tara was determined to put Calyx out of her mind. Despite bone-deep weariness, she’d had difficulty falling asleep. Her heart hurt, and she was livid. The stirred-up anger mingled with unsatisfied lust had her tossing and turning half the night. It was a terrible combination resulting in a grumpy, hollow-eyed chef in a kitchen full of sharp tools. If she wasn’t careful, she’d explode and spray her toxic emotions all over the unsuspecting diners and workers – or hunt down that bastard alien and give him a piece of her mind. Neither were good choices.
Something had to go her way today. She pushed her frustration with the handsome alien Warrior aside to focus on the different techniques for preparing breakfast potatoes.
Boring? Maybe to some. For her, this was a chance to re-center, to make something positive happen with her own hands.
Oil pure enough to fry with in the quantity she needed wasn’t readily available and her limited supply of butter wasn’t something worth risking on an experiment. Finger scratching her temple beneath the alien field generator that functioned as a hair net, she inventoried the various alien contraptions.
The microwave-like food particle accelerator blew the potatoes to smithereens and made an unholy (and stinky) mess. Using the little anti-grav box and torching the shredded veggie was much more effective, but the batch size wouldn’t feed many. Finally, she settled on a type of air cooker that used a small amount of water to steam the potatoes and flash-charred them to crispy perfection at the end. If the taste wasn’t quite right, at least the texture was perfect.
“Your boyfriend is outside,” Marta reported, hiding a yawn behind a dainty hand as she checked in for breakfast duty. “I told Franny I’d take her shift today.”
Tara narrowed her eyes speculatively. What was Franny up to now? She was sure to find out at dinner,
so she didn’t bother pestering Marta.
Marta’s pale hair was braided in a pretty coronet atop her head and Tara felt a pang of envy. If only her unruly locks could be dealt with so handily.
“God, what is that awful smell?” Marta pinched her nose, eyes watering.
Maybe the initial potato bomb stunk worse than she realized.
Tara ignored the gagging noise her friend made. And her watering eyes. “Calyx? Here?” She touched the small field generator self-consciously. If Calyx was paying her a visit this morning, he’d simply have to deal with the unsexy head gear and the stench of charred starch that clung to her like the world’s worst perfume.
“Yep.” Marta bobbed her head. “He’s standing outside the supply depot,” she offered before ducking her head and scurrying to a back workstation as several of the rotating staff walked in.
“I hope we’re not serving whatever-the-hell smells like burnt sweat socks,” Cariann, a brash younger girl called out in lieu of a greeting.
Her companion, Serene, added, “I doubt that’ll make us super-popular this morning.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Tara marked their attendance on the project console the aliens insisted she use to report inventory and personnel at each meal. “Where’s Marisol?” She questioned after Leigh and Vanna checked in.
Vanna raised a timid hand, her eyes sliding worriedly to Leigh before answering Tara. “Marisol accepted a Warrior’s Claim yesterday. She’s gone.”
“I thought they put a hold on all that?”
That was the first Claiming Tara had heard of since the accident that decimated one of the alien ships. Though there weren’t a lot of details on the event, speculation ran rampant throughout the camp. She suspected the conquerors knew the root cause; however, lowly Earthers didn’t rate explanations.
She did know that said destruction went down late at night. Some of the women, on a break from midnight shifts in the mines, said they’d seen flashes of something like green lightning deep in the night sky. Personally, Tara thought that sounded terrifying and she was glad she’d slept through it.
“The program is still on,” Leigh reported with a shiver, tucking her hands firmly into the ends of her long sleeves. “I’m just glad the mixed couples from the lost ship are staying at another camp. I don’t think I’d like to see all those brainwashed women fawning over the aliens.”
“Brainwashed?” Tara echoed, with a frown. The reconditioners were, technically, a form of brain washing, but she didn’t think that’s what the other woman meant.
“Marisol didn’t want anything to do with the aliens two weeks ago,” Leigh explained as she hunched her shoulders and sent a mistrustful look at the swinging doors as if there were alien Warriors on the other side waiting to drag her off to have their wicked way with her. “Yesterday, she took a running leap at one I’d never seen before. Climbed that dude like she was a monkey and he was her favorite banana tree.”
“Actually, I think they had history. He was on one of the teams that brought her in, I heard,” Vanna interjected softly as she passed around a stack of the halo-shaped hair nets.
Vanna’s words struck a chord, but there wasn’t time to examine why. A few stragglers filed in and Tara made the mental shift from gossipy woman to kitchen manager.
“Good morning, ladies,” she projected with forced enthusiasm. “We have a good news/bad news kinda situation here. The good thing is that we have hash browns this morning!” She laid the cheer on thick, passing out knifes and graters. “Sadly, the aliens didn’t give us anything that will make prep faster. So, we’ll be peeling and grating the potatoes the old-fashioned way!”
Her announcement was met with groans all around, but the handful of women got to work.
When she checked, Tara saw Marta was already halfway through the oatmeal and nutritional mash set-up for the morning meal. That left her free to spice up some of the bean-based protein with a blend of pepper, garlic and sugar substitutes that almost made it taste like breakfast meat. Kind of. Sugar, especially, was hard to come by, but the aliens had an awesome particle scanner that could closely – if not exactly – replicate almost anything scanned into its database. Her imitation sausage recipe was a work in progress, but most of her fellow Earthers seemed to like it.
Obsessing over Calyx’s proximity, what he was doing there or if he was going to come in and grovel appropriately didn’t detract from her ability to see that the breakfast line was set and constantly replenished. Anticipating his apology didn’t dampen the warm glow of a job well-done when she poked her head into the cafeteria and saw people eagerly forking food into their mouths. Some hardy souls even wore smiles at this early hour and she liked to believe happy tummies had a little something to do with that.
The morning mealtime came and went, and Tara was surprised to find herself in the late-morning lull between breakfast and lunch. Marta and the other girls had gone off to whatever was next in their respective days. Lunch was prepped, and her recipe notes had been updated with the hash brown details.
This morning had been a success. So, why did she feel so bereft, so antsy? The answer was obviously because Calyx hadn’t crawled in on his knees begging for forgiveness.
For as long as she’d known him, Calyx had kept a respectful distance, but he’d always shown up when she needed him. To think one encounter with her had driven him away hurt. And since they’d made out, he thought she was easy. Her! The twenty-three-year-old virgin, for christsakes.
His opinion burnt her pride, sure. It also ate at her heart. She’d liked him from the first moment he’d saved her life – despite the fact she was convinced he was nutty.
She’d believed they were friends at the very least right up until he’d practically called her a whore. This morning, she’d expected him to see his error and make it up to her. He hadn’t and now it was too damned late, she decided.
On top of it all, hearing that Marisol, a lazy example of a woman if ever there was one, had been selected and Claimed added fuel to the angry fire in Tara’s belly. She didn’t care to examine why the other woman’s good fortune pissed her off so badly. The answer would probably land too close to jealousy for comfort.
Scowling, Tara took a final look around her spotless kitchen and squared her shoulders. She owed the damned aliens an hour or so in the library. Last night, she’d been too distracted to do her time. So help her, if she saw that idiot Calyx on her way across camp, she was going to ignore his sexy, judgmental ass. Calyx who? She didn’t need a man or an alien or anyone else. Head high, she marched on with her day.
Chapter 13
Calyx hefted his weight vertically on the crude pull-up bar, grinding out the last of his daily physical training. All Warriors, on-planet or otherwise, kept a strict training regimen. Things were slow to settle since the loss of the Horizon, but this ingrained discipline kept the tension between the Warriors and the civilian Doranos from spiraling out of control. Or it was supposed to.
Personally, Calyx considered adding a few more sessions to his already grueling training. Too much whirled through his head, and the facts as he knew them refused to settle into a sensible picture. Colonel Vank, a male renowned for his strength and insight, was simply gone. Nineteen of his brother Warriors, including Track Team One’s tech specialist, Bram, were obliterated in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t help wondering if there was more he could have done to prevent his Commander and his friends’ deaths. This was the first major loss of his Warrior career and he knew he wasn’t handling it well.
Adding fear for Tara’s safety – and anger at the one who approached her with bad intentions - to the grief he felt had him teetering on the edge of control. The fact that he’d taken advantage of Tara’s weakness added to the acid churning in his gut. What was worse, it was all he could do to keep from hunting her down and taking her as his own even now. It would be so easy…
His internal communications device beeped in his ear. Lowering his heavy body to the floor, he p
ressed the slight bump on his temple. “Calyx here.”
“Your female is on the move,” Silex reported gruffly. “She’s headed for the dorms. I found something I need to check on, so after that, she’s all yours.”
Already stepping into a sonishower, Calyx replied, “Be there in a few. Thanks for your help, brother.”
Silex grunted and cut the comm without his usual pithy humor. Calyx shrugged philosophically as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He quickly donned a fresh uniform and tugged on his boots before jogging across camp.
The skies were overcast, but the sun still pierced the mild air with fierce rays. The planet’s atmosphere seemed to be deteriorating around them, but the scientists aboard the Hope believed the damage was reversable.
Stepping into a shaded area against the dormitory across from Tara’s, he took up watch.
Silex, the elder Warrior by several years, had been his patrol partner on nearly every part of his deployment. If it hadn’t been for Silex, it could have been years before Calyx had drawn Commander Vank’s attention and received the promotion to Track Team One. Calyx owed the other Warrior much.
The two of them, he and Silex, had done their best for the Earthers at Fort Burro while awaiting the orders to transport them to the safety of the work camps. When that day finally arrived, the occupants had numbered only twelve including Tara. Most of the dead and dying were ex-soldiers and civilian fort staff, too old to continue to serve. Some were simply wearing out after years of war and struggling to survive; however, there was a lung sickness slowly infecting the population, too. Tara became too ill to continue caring for the others the day after he pulled her from the swamp.
“Your young friend hasn’t emerged today,” Silex had reported, shoving a hover screen Calyx’s way so he could read the morning communiques as he silently returned from his morning rounds.