Dusan (Scifi Alien Romance) (Galactic Mates) Read online

  Dusan

  Galactic Mates

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Also By

  1. Cindy

  2. Dusan

  3. Cindy

  4. Dusan

  5. Cindy

  6. Dusan

  7. Cindy

  8. Dusan

  9. Cindy

  10. Dusan

  11. Cindy

  12. Dusan

  13. Cindy

  14. Dusan

  15. Cindy

  16. Dusan

  17. Cindy

  18. Dusan

  19. Cindy

  20. Dusan

  21. Cindy

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Preview of Alien General’s Baby

  1. Jillian

  2. Vinz

  Also By

  About the Author

  Copyright 2017 Luna Hunter.

  Published by Luna Hunter at Amazon.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Luna Hunter, please do not reproduce illegally.

  Created with Vellum

  Thank you for reading Dusan! This book is an entry in the Galactic Mates series, but each book can be read as a standalone.

  However, if you want the full Zoran experience I recommend starting with the Zoran Warrior series. You can find the links on the next page.

  If you sign up for my newsletter, you’ll get Zoran Wedding for free! It’s a short story that takes place between the events of the Zoran Warriors and Galactic Mates series.

  I also share chapters of my work in progress, and you’ll be the first to know when a new book is released.

  Click here to sign up!

  Happy reading!

  Also By

  Zoran Warriors

  Alien General’s Baby - Jillian’s Story

  Alien Warrior’s Baby - Kaitlyn’s Story

  Alien Soldier’s Baby - Kelly’s Story

  Alien Guardian’s Baby - Isabella’s Story

  Galactic Mates

  Thabo - Riley’s Story

  Fenrir - Abigail’s Story

  Bojan - Zoey’s Story

  Novak - Michelle’s Story

  1

  Cindy

  “One Terulian Bombshell for miss Knox.”

  The squid-like barman hands me the fruity drink with one of his many green tentacles. He’s serving five customers at the same time, his tentacles whirling around, grabbing bottles and throwing them in the air, cutting lemons and shaking ice, all at the same time.

  “Thanks, Bubo,” I say as I plunk down a few credits. I sip on the drink through a straw, the strong alcohol making my toes tingle.

  The two suns of Catonia are burning brightly, the white, pearly beach coated in perpetual sunlight. I’m wearing a straw hat to protect my pale skin and bikini-clad body. This is one of the so-called pleasure planets — worlds seemingly created for the pure purpose of vacationing. The temperature is always pleasant on Catonia, the water is always warm, and the cocktails are always delicious.

  As long as you stay away from the equator, that is. The two suns of Catonia shine the brightest there. It’s a desert wasteland, where no life can survive. But here, on the beach, life is good.

  At least, it should be.

  “Tell me Bubo, why do all your drinks have such violent names? The Terulian Bombshell? The Tyk’ix Mind-Wipe? The Zoran Piledriver?”

  The fluorescent green barman smiles at me. “Be happy I don’t serve a Humanity First Hurricane,” he laughs, his entire body trembling with laughter.

  “Hey, too soon!”

  “Sorry, miss,” he says. “I don’t name the drinks, I just serve them. If this is what the people want, this is what the people will get!”

  I scrunch my nose. “I thought you more imaginative, Bubo. You’re an artist! Your drinks should reflect that.”

  “You flatter me, miss,” he answers. His other three tentacles are simultaneously cutting strawberries and stirring a drink while he talks to me. Looking at it makes me dizzy, so I concentrate on his face. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Hm,” I say. “What about… Bubo’s Brightest! Or… Bubo’s Bodacious Beverage!”

  “The Bubo Bomb!” the barman answers, his eyes lighting up. “Great idea, Cindy, great idea!”

  “No no no! That’s not what I meant!”

  “I can see it now. Some cuhla, mixed with rum and a dash of lime… with chocolate on the rim of the glass! Perfect!”

  That doesn’t sound too bad, actually.

  “I’ll have to name a drink in your honor, too. What about Cindy’s Crawler? With a guarantee you won’t go home walking!”

  “That sounds horrible,” I protest. “Comfy Cindy sounds much better.”

  “Curvy Cindy.”

  “Too sexy. What about my last name? Knox. Can you run with that?”

  “Hmm… Knox You Out!”

  “I have one. Knoxing on Heaven’s Door!”

  “Purrrfect,” the barman says, his tentacles flailing around. “I’ll start experimenting right away!”

  The people across the bar keep staring at me and whispering amongst themselves. I know what that means.

  “Thanks, Bubo,” I say, tipping my hat before I walk over to my sunbed. I plop down onto the bed, pulling the straw hat down further, obscuring my face.

  I grab my tablet, hoping for some distraction. It automatically opens the Federation’s News page, and the headlines are exactly the same as they’ve been for the past month.

  “Novak: Who is this Blue God really!?”

  “Ten Things You Didn’t Know About Michelle Coors (#6 Will Shock You!)”

  “Michelle and Novak attend Swan Lake performance!”

  I toss my tablet into the white sand with a sigh. Yes, Michelle and Novak saved the day, with my help. I can understand that there would be some media coverage.

  This, however, is insane. It’s like they’re the ‘it’ couple of the day, elevated to the level of royalty. Paparazzi follow them like buzzards. And, as Michelle’s former assistant, I’m getting caught up in the frenzy.

  I got so sick from reporters blowing up my com and camping in front of my apartment that I quit my job at the human embassy and booked a spot on the first carrier leaving the Observer, the Intergalactic Alliance’s giant space station. I figured that would solve my problems, but no.

  “Excuse me, miss…”

  Not again. Isn’t the hat pulled over my face an obvious enough sign that I don’t want to be bothered?

  “What now?” I say, a bit too crabby.

  A human male stands in front of me, a sparkling golden drink in his hand.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but Bubo asked me to hand you this, and tell you it was a Knoxing on Heaven’s Door.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m a bit on edge. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he says as he hands me the drink. “Cheers.”

  That was a perfectly good guy I scared away by being bitchy. Way to go, Cindy. At this rate you’ll never find your Novak; your Zoran warrior from outer space.

  Not that I want a Zoran warrior. A big, broad, brightly colored, headstrong alien…

  No thank you.

  I sip on the sparkling drink, and a warmth spreads through me. I taste hints of pineapple and other exotic, alien fruits I can’t quite place. Together, however, it forms a delicious cocktail.

  “Excuse me?”

  Ah, another drink? That is some service!

  I whirl aro
und and look right into a cameraphone.

  “You’re Cindy Knox, aren’t you?!”

  A sunburnt woman is staring at her camera, slack jawed. She’s filming me like I’m an animal in the zoo.

  “What is Michelle like? Is it true Novak is seven foot tall? I heard he’s actually purple, and not blue, is that true?”

  Another one.

  Damn it.

  “You’ve got the wrong person,” I say, gritting through my teeth.

  “Oh,” she says, the camera still pointed at me. “Are you sure? That barman just said you were Cindy Knox!”

  Bubo!

  “He’s mistaken,” I say, adjusting my glasses.

  I leave my unfinished drink in the sand. I’ve just lost my thirst. I strut through the sand, my hat tucked down, and beeline straight to my spaceship.

  It’s the same everywhere I go. I can’t escape this unwanted, unwarranted fame. The media constantly broadcasts my face, and I’ve unwillingly become a pseudo-celebrity. When they couldn’t get Michelle in front of the camera, they came for me.

  I’m sick and tired of it.

  “Welcome, Cindy,” my ship’s AI says the moment I enter.

  “Hey, Nora.”

  My old boss Michelle, along with her boss Riley, pulled some strings and I got to borrow this top-of-the-line cruiser, the Needle, for a month. It comes equipped with an AI that practically flies the ship for you, which is awesome. She’s also genuinely nice to talk to, which is also a bonus when you find yourself all alone on some strange, alien world.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks in her characteristic southern accent.

  “I told you to stop reading my vital signs without permission, Nora.”

  “I’m sorry,” the ship responds. “I’m programmed to.”

  “It’s okay,” I sigh as I sink into my seat. “I just want to go.”

  “But we only just got here?”

  “It’s still the same, Nora. Everywhere we go. This isn’t far enough from the central planets yet.”

  “Catonia is 5 trillion miles from Earth. It is the farthest triple A planet from Earth.”

  “I know, I know. But it’s not far enough! Take me somewhere where no one knows my name.”

  The computer is silent for a moment. Normally she answers instantly, calculating everything in microseconds. I don’t know if this question is difficult for her, or if she’s just letting me simmer in my own anger for a moment.

  “I would advise against such a course,” she finally responds.

  “Why is that?”

  “I have strict orders from the Federation to keep you safe. This means traveling between triple A-rated planets only.”

  “Those are just guidelines. You have to obey my orders, correct?”

  Silence.

  “Correct.”

  “So lift off and take me into space. When I wake up tomorrow, I want to be anywhere but on a Federation planet!”

  “Okay, Cindy. If you insist.”

  “Thanks, Nora,” I say as I strip my bikini off and head towards the showers to rinse all the sand away.

  The next day, when I find myself stranded in uncharted space, I will have gotten my wish. I won’t be on a Federation planet. And the broad-shouldered, fully naked Zoran warriors who come to my rescue won’t be interested in my name…

  2

  Dusan

  The ship is silent.

  The ZMA Thunderbolt is flying through space without making a single sound. Without leaking any radiation, or emitting a touch of heat. To every sensor imaginable, it is completely invisible.

  To achieve this feat the rest of the crew, my brothers in arms, have to stay in hibernation. They are locked in their pods, in a deep, synthetic sleep. Their temperature, their breathing, their vital signs: these are all continuously monitored by the ship so it doesn’t have to use any more energy than absolutely necessary.

  I’m the only one awake.

  It’s my duty to keep an eye on things. I have the full responsibility for the ship and its crew.

  Sounds cool, but in reality, it’s boring as fuck.

  This Thunderbolt is so advanced that it already monitors everything. And I mean everything. It even tells me when I’m feeling hungry, or warns me that a sneeze is on the way. It’s ridiculous. So far I’ve yet to make a single decision — even my meals are picked for me by the ship.

  Our squad leader, Zlatan, doesn’t trust technology. He stuck me with guard duty. So now I just stare into the darkness of space, my hands folded in my lap, thinking of home.

  To be honest, I don’t mind being the only one awake. I lost my father to a malfunctioning ship. His life support system shut down when he was in cryogenic sleep. There was nothing that could be done.

  I’ve had a very healthy distrust of technology ever since.

  Uninhabitable planets whirl by in the distance, colorful orbs hovering in the dark. I take my assault rifle apart and put it back together again out of sheer boredom. It’s been drilled into me so many times in training that is has become second nature. I’m trying to get my record to under a single second. So far I’ve only managed to crack 1.14.

  Once I’ve done that ten times in a row I take out my axe and sharpen the blade. As a member of the Zoran Special Forces I’m an expert in all forms of combat: guns, axes and hand-to-hand. I’ve trained in zero gravity, underwater, and even in outer space. I’m a pilot, an engineer, a medic and a soldier, all at the same time.

  As a member of the Special Forces, I have to be.

  Our missions are top-secret. Only a handful of Zorans even know of our existence. If a mission goes south, all involvement by the Zoran government will be denied.

  There will be no rescue.

  We are truly on our own.

  I do not even know the purpose or destination of our current mission. That is on a need-to-know basis, and the ship has got the coordinates straight from command.

  Sometimes I wonder if all that secrecy is needed, or even good. Is it so bad if the public knows we’re there to protect them?

  Besides, not being able to tell people what your job is can get quite annoying. I’ve had more than a few females tell me I’m a liar, or that I didn’t trust them enough to tell them where I keep disappearing off to.

  If I told them the truth, my squad leader, Zlatan, might literally kill the both of us for treason. He’s the toughest motherfucker I’ve ever met. There’s not an inch of him that isn’t covered in scars. His skin is as red as fire, and his yellow eyes burn with a fever.

  Zlatan is old school. He grew up in the days when military service was mandatory and the only way you could advance in the ranks was to beat your leader in a fight to the death. Judging by his rank as unquestioned leader of the special forces, his kill count must number in the hundreds.

  A single beep rouses me from my thoughts.

  “Ship, what was that?”

  “Nothing of importance,” the ship’s robotic voice answers.

  That’s DEVO, the ship’s AI. It can talk using any voice it likes, but Zlatan insisted on using an old-fashioned, robotic sound, so that none of us got ‘attached’ to the ship or started thinking of it as a person. It’s definitely worked — I avoid talking to it as much as possible. Mostly because it monitors everything, which is just creepy. It’s also got a bit of an attitude problem.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It was a distress call from a Federation cruiser.”

  “A Federation cruiser? What’s it doing out here?”

  “I do not know, Dusan.”

  “What was the message?”

  “It’s not relevant to our mission, Dusan.”

  “Show me the fucking message, machine. On screen.”

  A blonde human female appears on screen. Her skin is beautiful and pale, her cheeks red with a healthy blush. Her blue eyes are filled with despair as she relays her message into the camera.

  “This is Cindy Knox, on the Federation cruiser the Needle. I have u
nexpectedly lost all engine power. My back-up generator is struggling, and I’m running out of time. If you see this, please help!”

  The screen fades to black, and the Thunderbolt keeps whizzing through space, its course unaltered. The ship does not care.

  “Play again.”

  I watch the scene again, and again, studying her fine features, committing the warm sound of her voice to memory.

  “Where is her ship located?”

  “Several thousand clicks away,” the ship responds in an almost annoyed tone.

  “Is there anyone else nearby?”

  “Short-range scanners show no other forms of life.”

  “What about long-range?”

  “A long-range scan would use a gratuitous amount of energy on non-vital—”

  “Do the fucking scan, DEVO.”

  The ship is silent, but I can sense its fury. A minute later it comes back to me with an answer.

  “Long-range scan shows no other forms of life as well.”

  “So if we ignore this distress call, what are her chances of survival?”

  “0.04 percent.”

  “Plot a new course,” I say decisively. “To the Federation’s cruiser.”

  “I strongly advice against that, Dusan,” the ship responds. “This ship is not calibrated to sustain another life form, and it would be a violation of your direct orders by Commander Zla—”

  “Plot. The. Course. Ship.”

  “I will be forced to report your conduct.”

  “I don’t care. Do it, or I’ll have you scuttled for parts for insubordination.”

  Finally, the ship turns around and alters its course.

  Zlatan will be pissed. He’ll be furious. The red giant will threaten to tear my head off, or to fire us both out the airlock.

  I can take him.

  Perhaps I’m endangering a vital mission by going off the rails, but I was appointed a guard to make executive decisions, and that’s what I did. I’m not letting an innocent soul suffocate alone in the darkness. The reason I became a soldier was to serve all people — not just Zorans. I won’t let someone befall the same fate as my father, even if they are human.

  “We’ve arrived at our destination. Docking sequence initiated.”