Drakan (Scifi Alien Romance) (Galactic Mates) Page 4

  “Captain Kingsley,” I say. “I thought I was being crystal clear when I told you never to return to his sector.”

  I haven’t forgotten the embarrassment I suffered on her craft. I’ve only just washed the chocolate from behind my ears, and now the human female returns, mocking my command once more.

  This time I will not be so forgiving.

  “I don’t follow orders that well, I suppose,” she says, though there’s not a hint of a smile on her face.

  “I can see that. Tell me why you have returned or I will forced to commandeer your vessel.”

  “Are you the one in charge of this whole… thing?”

  Thousands of vessels, a whole army worth of soldiers, and she calls it a thing.

  “I am in command of this fleet, yes,” I growl.

  “Then you’ll want to come see this, anyway,” she says.

  “Why is that?”

  “I picked up a drifter just outside your borders,” she says. “A rabid mad Tyk’ix who wants to destroy your home planet.”

  I rise from my seat in an instant.

  “You harbor our enemy?!”

  She rolls her eyes. “He’s a prisoner. I’m trying to help here—”

  “Prepare to be boarded,” I growl before cutting the transmission.

  It could be a trap, but the strange human female didn’t appear to be lying. If she was telling the truth then she harbors a trove of information.

  I hand over command of the ZMC Dreadnaught to Janko and lead a squad to the CS Lance, taking a small shuttle. Minutes later the doors open with a hiss, and I find myself standing face to face with the human captain once more.

  Her pupils dilate when her blue eyes land on mine, her cheeks flushing red.

  “General,” she says. “Welcome once again to my humble—”

  “Where is he?” I growl as I push past her, my blaster at the ready. My squad follows, every single of us at high alert. My eyes quickly glance at every corner, my mind and body prepared for an ambush.

  Hannah places her hand on my lower arm and tries to push it towards the floor. A futile effort, of course — I have more strength in one finger than she does in her entire human body.

  Still, I can feel her touch through my thin, form-fitting armor. It fills me with warmth. An uncomfortable and unfamiliar sensation.

  “Lower your blaster,” she says, “before you poke my eye out with that thing.”

  “Where is your prisoner?” I growl, my voice low and threatening.

  She nods at the cargo bay.

  “I locked him up in one of the tanks.”

  I tilt my head, my eyes studying the human’s features.

  “Are you mocking me, human?” I say. “Is this your idea of humor? If there is more of that foul sjo-koh-late inside, I swear that I will make you pay for it!”

  A thousand bare-bottom spankings, delivered one at a time.

  Hannah Kingsley rolls her eyes, placing her hands on her sides.

  “Puh-lease,” she says. “Get over yourself. You think I’d risk my ship, my crew, my life just to embarrass you some more? My world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. You’re not the center of the universe.”

  I frown at the shapely female. I find humans extraordinary hard to get a read on. So much of their communication depends on gestures, expressions, sayings. The true meaning of their words is found between the lines.

  Zorans, on the other hand, are direct. Clear. Honest.

  “Tell me what exactly what happened then,” I growl, keeping my blaster pointed at the cargo bay doors.

  She takes a deep breath before telling me her side of the events. When she’s done, I take a moment to let my eyes wander across her body as I mull her words over.

  “Let me get this straight. You claim to have seen visions of a massive Tyk’ix brain extinguishing our sun?”

  “Correct,” she says.

  “That sounds like the ramblings of a madman.”

  “I know,” Hannah responds, “but you have to believe me.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because!” she says, exasperated. “Because you have to! I know what I saw! They are coming, and they are going to target your sun, rather than attack Exon directly!”

  “You sure you haven’t hit your head? Inhaled too much sjo-koh-late fumes?”

  Anger flashes across her beautiful face, and she jabs her finger into my chest.

  “I didn’t risk my life for you to be an asshole to me,” she says. “You can’t be the real general. Who’s actually in charge?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because a true general would listen! I’m telling you how to save your world, your planet, the entire damn universe!”

  “I am the general,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “And I will not be spoken to like this!”

  She yanks herself free, casting a glare in my direction.

  “Come see for yourself,” she says as she walks towards the cargo bay. “You’ll see. I expect an apology once you’ve saved the world thanks to my help. In writing, even,” she mutters to herself. “Or a statue! A ballad! You can start writing now.”

  “Not a chance,” I growl.

  “We’ll see.”

  She opens the cargo bay doors, and I instantly raise my blaster, ready for whatever’s coming. My small squad follows my lead, all of our weapons pointed in Hannah’s direction. The doors slide open to reveal… an empty space, save for an opened pod.

  That lends credibility to her wild stories.

  “See?”

  “That’s not proof.”

  Hannah throws her hands up in the air in frustration.

  “Yeah, because I conjured this insectoid alien pod out of thin air, right?”

  She strides towards one of the storage tanks and pulls out a plasma pistol.

  “Are you ready?”

  My squad members all nod after they take up position in a semi-circle around the tank.

  “Yes,” I growl.

  Show me the truth, human.

  8

  Hannah

  One of my hands is resting on the cold, metal wheel of the empty tank, the other one holding my plasma pistol at the ready. General Drakan’s radiant eyes, as yellow as the summer sun, are looking right at me, a frown on that chiseled face of his.

  I’ve never met a more infuriating man than him. I’m here risking life and limb, doing my best to convince him of what’s waiting at his doorstep, and he refuses to listen to me. Is it because I’m human? Because I’m female? Or is just because I don’t snap to attention when he barks; because I don’t follow his every command like a trained lapdog?

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Go ahead,” he growls.

  I turn the wheel and open the tank, mentally preparing myself for a possible incoming splitting headache. The Zoran warriors all raise their guns and I wince back, afraid that they’re going to open fire blindly.

  The general’s yellow eyes open widely when he peers into the tank.

  “By Zora,” he breathes.

  I peek around the corner. The Tyk’ix, so wild and rabid earlier, is kneeling on the floor, licking the residual chocolate off the floor of the tank with his tentacles.

  He glances up at me, and I see his pupils are dilated, his entire face covered with the brown sweetness.

  “Believe me now?”

  General Drakan holsters his gun and stands next to me. “This is your ferocious Tyk’ix warrior?”

  “He was quite a bit more frenzied earlier,” I tell him. “The chocolate must have a calming effect on him.”

  “Hm. Judging by his pupils, it’s more of a psychedelic effect.”

  The Tyk’ix warrior is looking at us with a confused look on his face, tilting his head like a dog. Drakan steps into the tank and straightens his shoulders. He can only barely fit in.

  “Do you understand me?”

  The Tyk’ix nods.

  “Why are you here?”

  “The call,” t
he alien coughs. “The mother called us.”

  “The brain,” I say with a shudder.

  “Yes,” the Tyk’ix says. “Yes. The mother brain. The creator.”

  “Why?” Drakan growls.

  “The time has come,” the Tyk’ix stammers. “Yes, yes, the time, the time!”

  “What time?”

  “Of retribution! Of reckoning! Of comeuppance!”

  The general turns to me. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

  I shake my head. I have no idea, but I don’t like the sound of it one bit.

  Drakan squats down so that he’s face-to-face with the purple alien.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The voice is fading,” the alien rants. “Need to hear, need to…”

  “What voice?”

  “The mother! The creator! The forebearer!”

  He claws at the floor, trying to dig his way out of the metal tank.

  “Sorry, mother! Sorry! I’m coming!”

  “Stop that,” Drakan says as he grabs the Tyk’ix’s wrist.

  The alien jumps back, as if the Zoran’s touch has burned him.

  “We made you,” the Tyk’ix spits bitterly. “You took our place!”

  He swipes at Drakan, but the Zoran general blocks the attempt with a flick of his wrist. The Tyk’ix flies back and curls up in the corner, his head resting in his hands as he whines in pain.

  Drakan stands back up, walks out and motions for me to close the tank. I do so quickly, the locks springing shut.

  “So,” I say. “What about that apology? You have some verses for me already?”

  That thoughtful frown on Drakan’s face seems to be etched in permanently now. He motions his squad to guard the tank before turning to me.

  “We need to talk,” he says, ignoring my question. “Do you have a drink? Something strong.”

  “Uhh… I’ll look.”

  I’m sure Evelyn — who has hidden herself in the engine room, as far away from the Zorans as possible — has some booze stashed away somewhere. I head down and sure as day, she sheepishly pulls out a bottle of vodka from behind a crate.

  When this is all over I’ll need to give her a stern talking to, but right now we have bigger fish to fry. I hand the bottle to Drakan who I find in the canteen, in the spot where I usually sit. The room seems comically small compared to him. His legs are spread wide, because they can’t fit under the low table.

  He twists the cap open and takes a big gulp.

  “Weak,” he growls. “But it’ll do.”

  I scrunch my nose. “Should you be drinking right now? Don’t you have a fleet to lead?”

  The Zoran throws his head back and laugh — the first time I’ve managed to make the warrior do anything but glare or scowl, though I feel like he’s laughing at me rather than with me.

  “A drink sharpens my senses,” he says, “but this is like water to me. Sit.”

  I sit down across the general. I still have to crane my neck to look up at him, for his large, red frame towers over me.

  “So, what do you think?” I ask.

  “This is disturbing,” he growls. “Very disturbing.”

  “Just like I said,” I murmur.

  “The alien mentioned a ‘mother’?”

  “I think he’s talking about that giant brain I saw in a my vision. Dream. Nightmare.”

  A cold shiver runs down my spine when I think back to that creepy monstrosity.

  “Describe it.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “There were tubes sticking into it, from all sides, that seemed to be… feeding… it.”

  “How ‘big’ are we talking here?”

  “Giant. The size of a cruiser, easily. It dwarfed me.”

  “Can you describe the surroundings?”

  I focus, trying to recall as much information as possible. “No,” I stammer. “All I saw was the brain, the rest was shrouded in darkness.”

  Drakan mulls this over, while I try to push the thought away again.

  “That Tyk’ix called it his ‘creator’. Do you think he meant it literally?”

  “Possibly,” Drakan shrugs. “Nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to those monsters.”

  “What if all the Tyk’ix are controlled by this ‘mother brain’?”

  “It means we have a target,” Drakan growls. “That’s the best case scenario. We take out the ‘mother’, we may break their entire army.”

  “How do you propose we do that?”

  “I don’t know yet,” the general says, “but you’re going to help me.”

  “M-m-me?” I stammer. “I’m just a pilot!”

  “You’re the only one who has seen this creature,” Drakan says.

  “I just described it to you! It’s a big brain, nothing more! I need to go, I have things to do. People I need to see.”

  “You are vital to the war effort now. You can’t go.”

  “I must!”

  “You can’t.”

  I rise from my seat with a huff. “I’m the captain of this ship, Drakan! I came back here to help you! I’ve done my duty. You can’t stop me from leaving.”

  “Wrong on both counts,” Drakan growls. He pushes his seat back and stands up straight. His broad shoulders block the exit completely. “First of all, I can and will stop you. Second of all, this is no longer your ship. I commandeer it for the war effort.”

  My eyes narrow. He plans to keep me from my little brother? To take what is mine? Oh hell no. I slap the general right in that fire-red face of his, right on that chiseled jaw. It’s like striking granite, and I think I hurt my hand more than I did him.

  “You’re done?” he growls without flinching.

  “I thought the Tyk’ix were the bad guys,” I grumble.

  “Watch that mouth.”

  I try to slap the general again, but he grabs my wrist before I can make contact with that smug face of his, his brilliant eyes looking directly in mine.

  “There is something about your craft that severed the connection between the Tyk’ix and his flock,” Drakan says. “It could be the material in your ship, or the tank, or even the chocolate in the alien’s system. Until we’ve figured it out for sure, that Tyk’ix stays in that tank, and this ship stays in my fleet, and you stay by my side.”

  I try to wrestle myself free, but the general’s grip is too strong. He raises his arm and I dangle in the air, helpless.

  “Do you understand?”

  I briefly contemplate kicking him right where it hurts.

  “You don’t understand,” I fuss. “This ship is my everything! I have a little brother to take care of! You can’t keep me prisoner!”

  “I will, if you leave me no choice.”

  The general lowers me to the floor. Now it’s my turn to glare at him, while I rub my sore wrist. Evelyn is going to love this. Spending more time in a war zone is right up her alley…

  “Do we have an understanding?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. I’m furious, but it seems the general leaves me with little choice. Truth be told, I can even understand his point of view, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to be caught up in this intergalactic conflict. I am just a space-trucker trying to scrape together some credits to afford my little brother a better life.

  Not some hero who’ll decide the fate of the galaxy.

  “We do. But, I’m still waiting on that apology of yours, by the way.”

  Drakan is silent, but his radiant eyes speak volumes.

  I realize that if I’m waiting for the Zoran general to show some humility, I’ll be here for another few eons.

  Suddenly, the ship lurches forward violently, and we’re thrown across the room. I find myself pinned down under the general’s large frame, his hard body pressing down on mine. His eyes widen as he stares down at me, and involuntarily I feel a flush of heat spread through my entire body.

  The moment lasts only a microsecond — he leaps up, pulling me along with him.

/>   “Janko, what was that?” he screams into his com.

  “Enemy contact!” is the answer. “Ygg coming in out of nowhere!”

  “The Ygg?!” the general growls. “Hannah? Hannah!”

  I’m already sprinting down the hall towards the bridge. This ship is my baby, and I’m not letting any alien monsters damage her.

  9

  Drakan

  The ship jerks forwards forcefully, and I have to hold onto the walls to stop myself from falling over. Hannah is running down the hall, nimbly keeping herself on her two feet, and I chase her as quickly as I can.

  She jumps down behind the controls and grabs the stick firmly with her two hands.

  “Move aside,” I growl from down the hall. “I’ve got this.”

  “No,” she says resolutely. “The Lance is my baby. I know her like the back of my hand.”

  “You are a freighter pilot!” I say. “This is a battle. Move aside.”

  “Oh yeah? Watch this.”

  She hits a button on her control panel, and I can hear giant bolts detaching themselves.

  I look up to see that the sky is filled with Ygg. Thousands of the space-faring insects, the monstrous killing machines, are heading right for Exon Prime and tearing ships apart in their path.

  They have been our mortal enemies for centuries. They hide below ground, laying ambushes for colonists, laying waste to entire planets, but there has never been a method to their madness. They are mindless killing machines — yet this attack seems coordinated.

  One of them is heading right for us, spreading its pincers wide. Hannah presses down on her control stick and, freed from the bulky cargo-hold, the now-nimble ship dips down and avoids the incoming enemy.

  I watch in horror as the ZMC Dreadnaught fires on the creatures — and misses! The Dreadnaught has been built to fight another war fleet, not deal with a thousand small alien bugs. A few manage to land on my capital ship’s surface and burrow their way straight through the thick layers of metal.

  “Janko! You’ve got company!” I say into my com. “On the sixth and ninth level!”

  “We’re on it,” is the reply.

  “Wait, there!” I scream.

  A giant Ygg has landed right outside the Dreadnaught’s control deck. If it punches a hole in the metal with its claw or its acidic blood, Janko and all my other officers will be ripped right into space itself. The beast raises his claws, ready to strike.