Alien, Awakening Page 2

  Kat lifted a hand and cupped Evarda’s slim shoulder. “It’s our way of releasing any residual aggression. And we play the game that hard to honour its ancient Angrigan origins.”

  “Sacrificial lotto,” Evarda muttered, her fingers gentle as she smoothed a relieving cream over Kat’s battered arm. “I understand. Politics at its lethal best. Send out raiding parties to a destination prearranged by all opposition leaders and drag back anyone they can to fulfil the sacrificial needs of whichever deity they worshipped. Good way to eliminate people inconvenient to your regime. Why perpetuate such a hideous concept?”

  Kat studied her friend’s troubled eyes. “Lest we forget.”

  Evarda sniffed. “Hardly likely.”

  “Gives you more respect for General Mhartak,” Dave said, “knowing he plays six against one and remains unbeaten.”

  “That is one man I’m glad is on our side,” Evarda agreed.

  Yeah, lucky Sandrea, General Mhartak is an exceptional man—much like his brother.

  And there I go again.

  Kat stomped on, squishing and battering the admiration for T’Hargen Mhartak poking its unwelcome nose into her thoughts.

  Enough! He made his preference clear.

  “I’m sure there are other, more peaceful, ways for the Alliance to include us in their society,” Evarda argued. “What about the Magran fertility festival, or the Legolopanth fitness carnival?”

  Kat glanced at Dave. The Legolpanths reminded her of circus strongmen. They were born with extra muscles, even the females.

  Dave twitched his head to one side. “I suppose we could volunteer to be the weights the Legol’s lift. As for the fertility festival”—he stroked his chin in speculation—“I doubt even if I didn’t shave for a week that I’d meet their entry criteria.”

  Kat snorted. “You’d have to wear a pelt to even come close to equalling that beautiful fur of theirs.”

  Dave straightened and gave her a haughty look. “I wouldn’t do so bad in an Angrigan fertility contest.”

  She huffed a laugh. “If they had such a thing, and as they’re completely hairless, you’d have to shave more than your head.” She sent him an evil grin. “You could always wax.”

  A horrified wince twisted his features. “Ouch.”

  “Besides, Angrigans and humans can’t reproduce, so it kinda voids the whole fertility thing.”

  “True.” Dave turned his gaze to Evarda. “Participating in the Alliance’s most popular sport shows our willingness to adapt.”

  “I suppose so.” She sighed. “Kat, did you have to hit the Raider’s target so hard? I’ve administered to him, but he’s still a bit twitchy.”

  “I wanted him to be sure he’d been tagged. A gentle tap would probably have only made him meaner.”

  “That’s one theory,” Dave murmured. “I reckon you just wanted to make sure you put a very visible scratch and dent on that pretty, virgin target.”

  A sheepish grin lifted one corner of Kat’s mouth as amused guilt bubbled inside her then burst up from her lungs into a laugh. “I take the Fifth. Mind you, you got him back across the demarc line quick enough. Been working out? Trying to impress anyone I know?”

  Dave’s eyebrows rose and a secretive smirk etched his rough, masculine features.

  “Could be.”

  “Oo! Angrigan, Magran, Gailing, or human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ugh, frustrating bloody man.”

  ~ ~ ~

  T’Hargen braced his hands on the arms of the command chair of his shuttle and eased into the seat with a groan. Every muscle felt pummelled. Pulsating pain still danced in joyous abandon on his brain and he felt sure he’d lost the first two layers of skin on his face to heat, possibly even one or two minor jaw-plates.

  A green light on the grey flat-panel console blinked for his attention. With a resigned moan, he leaned forwards and tapped the encrypted communication icon.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you injured?” His brother’s solid voice sounded sterner than usual.

  T’Hargen felt his chest loosen and a little warmth relieved the pain encompassing him at the evidence of concern.

  He’d missed Eugen. How had he maintained distance from him all these years?

  “No.”

  “Are you lying?”

  A smile stretched his lips at his brother’s mate’s demand.

  “No, Sandrea, I’m not lying.”

  “Jesus, Cupcake, we thought we’d lost you then.”

  A mild ache clutched his chest and he cleared his throat. “No, you haven’t lost me.”

  “Did you retrieve what you were after?”

  Sounded like his brother was back in ‘General Mhartak’ mode.

  “Information wise, yes, I believe so, I’ve not done a complete analysis of the data on the crystal, but it should contain the coordinates of other laboratories like this, also any progress they’ve made with their pitkaed experiments.” He sucked in a deep breath, fought back the black tide of bleak anger rising in him and crying out for reprisal. “Unfortunately none of the captives survived the Bluthen.”

  Sandrea’s voice and stomping tread echoed from the speakers as though she marched away across the open floor of the command bridge of the Enda. “Jesus H. Christ. I’m telling you, Eugen, nuke ’em from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”

  He could imagine her throwing her hands in the air then clamping them on her hips, the light of vengeful battle glinting in her eyes. He felt the same. Though he hadn’t endured what she had at the hands of the Bluthen, his war with the enemy was replete enough with pain and anguish.

  “So you assure me, my love.” His brother replied in the soft tone reserved only for his beloved mate.

  A fleeting, unidentified emotion speared through his chest like a miniature meteor. Absently, he rubbed his pectoral plates then reached into his pocket, pulled out the data crystal, and inserted it into an access port.

  “I believe there is also information on those mysterious pillars they’ve taken an acute interest in lately,” he said. “I’ll transmit the data now. See what you can make of it.”

  “Assuredly,” his brother replied. “What is your next destination?”

  “Home.”

  To continue my investigation into why small amounts of supplies and tools are disappearing from my barns and why there’s an anomalous energy spike somewhere around the foot of the mountains that coincides with the thefts. And if any of it was connected to the rumours of a small Bluthen spectre supposedly haunting the area.

  “Very well. We’ll contact you soon.”

  T’Hargen cut the transmission and slumped back in his seat. The word ‘we’ spun in his mind like an alluring enigma.

  “We.” He tested the word on his lips.

  Hmph.

  Once, long ago, his carefree life had held many a ‘we’. Now such a thing was beyond his grasp. He hauled himself upright and headed for the trauma couch. With a bit of luck his aches and pains would be tended into insignificance by the time he awoke.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day, Kat drew a deep, satisfied breath and stared out the mouth of her office-cave. Below in the valley, gentle, morning sunlight bathed fields of grain in golden, life-giving radiance. Not for much longer though. Dry rock walls bordered green pastures where flocks of saffron coloured, silken-haired yarmen grazed with a contentedness she could almost feel.

  Yes, finally, finally, it looked as though all her friends were going to make it back to an even, emotional keel.

  Well, almost all.

  Xian had retreated into herself so far it was doubtful she’d ever find her way back. Maybe her inner self wou
ld always remain too unwilling, too afraid, to test the waters of reality and discover she might still be captive to the Bluthen. At least she’d enjoyed the slice of ombrayo offered her. Kat lifted the corners of her mouth in a gentle smile. Secluded in the dim light of Xian’s small cabin, the older woman had mumbled to her in an incomprehensible Asian language, a happy note tinting her voice.

  Kat doubted they’d ever be able to understand the woman, at least not until Xian reacted much more calmly when presented with technology and they could fit a translating device to her. She pulled in a rough breath. It probably didn’t matter. Just listening to Xian as she spoke was likely the best she could offer. That and the fudge. She shook her head slowly in amazed admiration for the little Asian woman. How Xian had even lived through the hell she’d endured . . . That woman must have a will of adamantine. Maybe in time she’d allow herself to discover this new, pleasant life.

  Six New Earth months reliving and dealing with, on a daily basis, the nightmare of Bluthen capture and torture had paid off for everyone else though. Their edgy hyper-vigilance had lessened and they’d settled into a daily routine. They no longer jumped at the least unexpected sound. She twisted her lips into a regretful grimace. Of course it might have gone smoother if she’d had more experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and if her friends had warmed to the psych analysts the Alliance had offered. Her concerns that her professional psychologist’s objectivity had been severely compromised by having endured the same demonic suffering as the other refugees were brushed aside.

  They hadn’t cared, had argued they’d rather express themselves to someone who knew exactly what they’d experienced.

  So she’d relented, on the condition they also attend sessions with the psych analysts, and established her office here, away from the settlement and with a magnificent, life-affirming view. Even in foul weather. She’d learned much in her inter-species sessions with the Gailings and Magrans.

  And she’d done her best to drive the Alliance biochemists nuts. She grinned. At least they’d thought so. Proper nutrition was a key element in recovery and she’d demanded confirmation that on a cellular level the food they received and were growing would contain the vitamins and minerals essential in a good diet, both human and alien.

  Turned out their new moon-home had comparable geological elements to Earth and produced similar basic cell structure in animals and plants, though outwardly some of the flora and fauna appeared quite bizarre.

  The slight hum of her self-sustaining technical equipment merged seamlessly with the background concerto of insects and birdcalls. She panned her gaze over the Earthship-style houses and buildings the villagers as a group had constructed at the edge of Lake Endurance. Things were looking good.

  They were warm, safe, guarded, and fed, and now exploring means to become a valuable part of the Alliance. She twisted her mouth in a rueful grimace. Unfortunately, their most significant commodity at the moment seemed to be the singular ability to operate the BMI-controlled interstellar, superior prototype fighter developed by the Bluthen and captured by the Alliance.

  A grim shiver closed her throat, shuddered over her shoulders, and slipped down her spine. Those damned Brain Machine Interface experiments. They had not been good times. The endless rounds of brutal Bluthen hands restraining her to a metal table. The cold, hard band of the interface as it descended on her from behind and clamped to her head as though to crush her skull. Sometimes she’d wished it would so the torture might end. Her self-will violated, the external commands that forced her thought patterns to specific tasks. The unceasing pain. The shame and despair of being unable to resist strongly enough. The casual disposal of test subjects that hadn’t been good enough for Bluthen purposes.

  Do not wish to endure that again. Ever.

  She hauled in a deep breath. In the end, she’d won. They all had. She wouldn’t be surprised if Dave volunteered soon to aid the Alliance technicians in analysing the BMI. As for her, if she never saw one again, it’d be too soon.

  A cool breeze brushed her face and lifted the long, black fringe from her eyes. Time to get Evarda to have a go at her with her scissors. She crossed her arms and drummed the fingers of one hand on her bicep. Hopefully, General Mhartak’s response to her proposal regarding an expanded investigation into closed Bluthen society would arrive soon. She found it odd that the Alliance seemed to know so little about their enemy’s social culture. Hadn’t deemed it necessary to delve into the structure of intimate relationships within a society nor discover the general day-to-day customs of the lay people. She worried the corner of her lower lip with her teeth and creased her brow in a frown.

  Surely the women and children couldn’t be as coldly merciless and self-centred as the males in the military?

  For there were only males in the military. That, at least, was a fact. She’d even seen the ones who’d held her captive force experiments on members of their own race. Besides, if it turned out that Bluthen women were oppressed, helping them might just be a weapon the Alliance could use to destabilise the ruling military regime.

  Well, that was a consideration for the future. Right now she’d earned herself a holiday. She nodded briskly. Yes, her friends were well on their way to only requiring a psychologist for simple, every-day needs, and those could easily be dealt with by venting to friends. Or a ripping game of goundash.

  Though the Bluthen shadow hovered on the edge of their happiness—and probably always would—it no longer held the power to intimidate them. She curved her lips in a grin of pride and humour. In fact, if the Bluthen showed up here this very moment, she was certain many of her friends would give them the middle finger, with accompanying acerbic verbiage on the shortest and quickest route to hell.

  She rested a shoulder on the smoothed rock framing the cave entrance. Dave had done an amazing job with the laser-adze provided by T’Hargen. Ah, T’Hargen. She let out a soft sigh. What had she been thinking, contemplating getting involved with the man? She gave a mental shrug and acknowledged she hadn’t been thinking. She’d needed something trustworthy and solid to cling to after the horror of the Bluthen and the big, brave, honourable Angrigan had fit the bill.

  He’d been an amazing source of strength and encouragement to every survivor of the Bluthen. The resources he’d provided for the settlement had arrived days in advance of those issued by the Alliance. He ensured every physical need was met, either by himself or the alien Alliance governing council.

  Yet he reminded her of a man who volunteered at an animal shelter, providing every care for the inmates with a generic compassion, while shielding his heart against the suffering and anguish. Never taking one close as though to do so would invite a pain he could not bear.

  She sensed the scars on his soul ran deep and her instincts screamed to rescue him from whatever perdition claimed him. But the second she’d broached the subject of psych analysts, he’d become colder than winter at Mawson station.

  Yes, for a short while he’d seemed interested, then his ‘keep away’ signals had come through loud and clear. It seemed obvious he wished to remain caught in some past tragedy that drove him.

  In all honesty, she’d quite probably dodged a bullet there. With her head now in the right place, she knew that what she didn’t need in her life was another man like Matthew. Something drove T’Hargen to protect the Alliance with ruthless determination and that was a complication she could well do without. She let out a rueful sigh and raised her eyebrows in impish acknowledgement that T’Hargen’s tall, powerful body certainly held a strong appeal.

  Those massive battle-plates that covered each pectoral muscle, each sharply defined ridge of his abdomen added some serious badass dimension to him that attracted her on a primal level. It was seldom she had to look up at a man, and the memory of his dark coffee and cocoa scent . . . seductive tingles skittered over her skin.

  Mm
m-mmm.

  Yes, as far as masculine specimens went, he was a prime one, but as for personality? No, she thought with a sigh, they just didn’t match. She returned her gaze to the yarmen. Another week and Dave would organise the herding of them into the barns, preparatory for the long night. Things were going to get cold and dark as the moon followed its wobbly orbit through the shadow of the parent planet for about fifteen days. They’d deal with it, just as they’d acclimated to sunrise in the west. This was their home now and they were bent on experiencing it to the full.

  And to that end . . .

  She straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine. Time for this psychologist to heal herself, to find that last piece to restore her inner balance. And she had just the ticket in mind. She turned her gaze towards the snow-clad mountain peaks to the north and the tableland lake she knew nestled at the base of their vast feet.

  Aerial reconnaissance images showed crystal-clear waters reflecting the sky into a sapphire blue. Islands dotted the surface like drops of viridian life. Her bohemian spirit soared at the prospect of exploring, of sidelining her cares for a short while and indulging in nature. Their community had given her the privilege of naming the azure body of water, and she’d dubbed it Lake Desiderata.

  It seemed fitting.

  Though topographically mapped, the exploration of New Earth was the province of its most recent residents, and she planned to make her mark. A sense of peace and enthusiasm filled her mind. Armed with Sonic Deterrents to keep the local wildlife at bay, thankfully even the tiniest skin-sucker, a couple of days trekking should see her to the pass. She’d borrow a canoe from the fishing settlement they’d established there and explore the eastern reaches of the lake. Anticipation tilted the corners of her mouth. She had more than enough time before the long night set in.