Damaged (Planet Alpha) (2 page)

He kept up with her effortlessly. “Quadrant
Four.”

Her heart skipped a beat
, and Cori struggled to keep her face expressionless. That was where Sky had rescued her all those years ago. After the floods, after her parents had died in the refugee camp, she’d been sold to the Xyrans and shipped off as a sex slave. She’d been too young for pregnancy at first, but when she became a teen, a Xyran had bought her for use as a breeder. Luckily, Sky had been captured and brought onto the same ship before Cori ended up pregnant and miserable. She’d been thirteen. Sky had saved her life and brought her back to Earth. She’d given Cori a reason for living: helping to free captives.

“That’s a busy route,” she simply said, glancing at Reiyn. She didn’t want him knowing her life story.

His long legs made the climb to the trail look easy. “So it is.”

She pursed her lips. “The Xyrans like sailing through there with their contraband humans.” She spat to the side as she found the trailhead. Dust kept getting lodged in her throat.

“Yes.”

She snorted. “Try not to sprain something with your witty conversation.”

He ignored her.

Cori sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
And an even longer flight.

Chapter Two

Kyuk firmly gripped the handles of his blades and patiently waited for his second-in-command to attack. The other Xyran’s skin flickered from grey to red to blue, but Kyuk kept his eyes on his opponent’s torso, ignoring the color changes. Lorkz was only the latest in a long string of challenges to his authority, and Kyuk had no intention of dying here today.

“You are a tribeless coward,” Lorkz growled.

Kyuk lifted his right shoulder infinitesimally, as if what his second-in-command had to say was meaningless.
Just enough to incense him,
he thought, keeping a firm grip on his anger. When the warrior suddenly lunged, long blade going directly for Kyuk’s abdomen, he lightly stepped to the side, slashing at the warrior’s neck. Purple-red blood spurted as Lorkz lost his grip on his weapon.

“There is a reason I am captain of this starship, not you,”
Kyuk said, making certain his voice was loud enough for the rest of the crew to hear. The low murmur of angry conversation that filtered through the hold didn’t faze him. He’d expected it.

“You will die soon,” Lorkz said, going to his knees.

“I think not,” Kyuk said, walking around him slowly. When Lorkz slumped to the floor, he bent down and tapped on his face with the tip of one of his blades. “Better warriors than you have tried to kill me and failed.”

Lorkz spat at him. Blood frothed from his nose. “You have no tribe. You are less than nothing. I die as Lorkz, fifth-son of Jarko, tribal leader of Xyran.”

Kyuk straightened up. “You are dead. Your pride and honor mean less than nothing once your heart stops beating.” He pivoted and walked to the hatch. He didn’t want the warrior’s skin gems, so had no reason to stay and watch the mutineer breathe his last.

The rest of the warriors under his command watched him warily, and Kyuk knew that they, too, believed his status as the last surviving member of a dead tribe meant he had no honor. Most would try
to kill him the moment he showed any weakness.
And most of them will die trying,
he thought as he stepped out of the hold and into the bowels of the warship he’d commanded for five years.

****

“Three klicks to Sarton Moon, Captain,” Rozorn said with barely concealed hostility in his voice.

“Very well, soldier,” Kyuk replied, insulting his latest second-in-command with the moniker. Most Xyrans preferred to be called by their title, if they had one. Rozorn did not, but Kyuk refused to call him
warrior.
None of the motley crew of cutthroats on the ship deserved that designation. He longed for the days when he’d still had some standing among his people, but his family had been decimated after the defection of Lord Jaxt to Earth. Kyuk had belonged to the same tribe, though as an orphaned male of a family far removed from the illustrious Lord Kaxt, Jaxt’s father.

May the old bastard rot in space, forevermore,
he mused, rubbing his chin. He’d been barely an adult when Jaxt had managed to escape the clutches of Xyran, but he’d fought enough battles for status to understand what it meant.

Freedom.

“Which you will never have,” he murmured, looking intently at the information scrolling down his display. He had a half-day to pick up the humans on Sarton and smuggle them undetected into the special hold he’d had built, then ferry them to Earth. The pretext for visiting the moon was a cache of gems he’d heard about, but the true reason was to rescue the humans. Setting them free was his way of redeeming his honor. No other Xyran would understand, but he did not care. His best friend, his brother-in-blood, had been a half-human, half-Xyran hybrid, and he mourned Reiyn’s death every day of his life. He couldn’t save his friend when they were children, but he could save others now.

“Captain, these gems, from what source did you receive information regarding them?” Rozorn asked.

And so it begins,
Kyuk thought, angling his seat so he could see Rozorn better. “My source is classified.”

Rozorn curled his lips. “I am the son of tribal leader Lord Freskon. As such, I am privy to any and all classified information.”

Kyuk steepled his fingers, watching as Rozorn’s skin shaded to a sickly yellow. “As captain, I am not required to disclose anything to you or any other crew member.”

Rozorn’s skin flared red before he got it under control. Kyuk couldn’t help the thread of contempt he felt. Once, a long time ago, Xyrans had been taught to control their ferocity, and therefore, their skin color. Now, violence was celebrated
, and the warriors subjected the weak, to the detriment of the whole species. Most Xyrans had only imperfect control of their camouflage.

And though
your
control is perfect, you are as violent as the rest of them,
he reminded himself sourly. He considered the long list of dead bodies he’d left behind him as he fought for enough status to command a starship.
And you do not regret any of it. You fought to command a starship for a reason.

“I demand that you disclose your source,” Rozorn declared.

Kyuk raised his eyebrows. “You do not
demand
anything of me.”

Without warning, Rozorn launched from his seat across the metal decking, a small pulse weapon appearing in his hand. He wasn’t fast enough. Kyuk’s blade caught him mid-chest
, and the warrior’s momentum carried them out of the chair and onto the floor. Kyuk hurriedly shoved the body off, just in time to meet another weapon leveled at his face. He slid back, kicking with his feet. The astrogator went down, surprise chasing across his face as Kyuk’s heel caught him in the neck, snapping his spine.

Kyuk rolled, sensing the last two members of the bridge crew coming for him. A pulse from an energy weapon hit the metal near his head. He threw one of his blades, catching the ship’s pilot in the neck. The ensign slammed his fist on a display before Kyuk could stop him, and the next thing he knew, the ship vibrated as someone from outside fired at them. Kyuk’s eyes met his ensign’s. The younger Xyran bared his teeth
, and in that moment, Kyuk knew that the conspiracy to overthrow him was much further reaching than he’d thought.

“You will not be ship’s Captain for much longer,” the young Xyran snarled. “We know you’ve been freeing slaves, traitor!”

Kyuk threw his last blade, catching the ensign in the eye. Blood spattered the decking, but he rolled to his feet, ignoring the warm stickiness as he slapped his palm onto the nearest display. Six warships surrounded him. He sucked in a harsh breath, then whirled, heading for the door. He had a secret escape pod near his quarters. He’d set it up himself. Xyran politics being what they were, he would not trust his safety to anyone else. He dashed across the deck to the private corridor that led to his quarters. From the security feeds on the bridge, he knew the rest of the crew was in on the mutiny. On the way out, he initiated the self-destruct. They would
not
get their claws on his ship, even if he had to destroy it to keep it from their clutches.

“May their bones disintegrate in the cold of space and be forever lost,” he snarled as he raced down the hall. Just before he reached his rooms, he stopped and ripped part of the metal plating away from the wall, revealing another, smaller corridor. He ducked inside, knowing that the others would be waiting for him elsewhere, but they would be disappointed. None of them knew he’d built a safety escape from the hall into the pod on the hull, disguised and hidden inside the empty space between his room and the main corridor. He ran in darkness, crouched uncomfortably into the small space. When he reached the escape pod, he climbed inside and sealed the hatch.

He quickly buckled the restraints around his torso and then counted down. “Three, two, one.” He jammed his fist onto the release. He had maybe one minute to get away before the ship exploded. The escape pod ejected faster than normally built ones, and he gritted his teeth against the force smearing him into his seat. The unrelenting speed pressed his skull into the side of the pod as inertial dampeners strained against the non-standard ejection. Just when he thought he’d black out, the pressure eased. He checked his display, then took a deep, cleansing breath. His starship was gone. So were the four others attacking him. He was adrift in space.

“Farewell,” he murmured to his lost ship, fingers trailing down the display. He initiated the distress call he’d set up years ago, and tipped his head back against the wall. “If only you had lived, Reiyn. Perhaps survival would not be so pointless.”

All the slaves he’d stolen and freed must have felt this same sense of isolation, but that did not assuage his grief. It never did. Over the years, he’d returned many rescued humans to Earth and helped scores of Xyran women and children find hidden places to live. Places away from the major Xyran cities. Freeing them had been his life’s work, and now it was over—destroyed in one, terrible act of brutality. His crew would not have mutinied so violently if they had not had approval from a high-status Xyran directing their actions. Somehow, someone must have discovered his smuggling. And no one would understand why he’d done any of it, no one except another warrior who’d been born to the lowest-status possible and had to claw his way up. No one else except a slave.

He tapped the controls to open the viewport. When the screen slid back, he stared into the unblinking infinity of the dark universe, thinking of his childhood oath-brother wistfully. He still missed his blood-kin Reiyn, the slave boy he’d known for only a few short years. Reiyn had understood his loneliness, but then he’d disappeared one night, long before either had grown to adulthood.

Kyuk knew Reiyn was dead. The ones who disappeared almost always died trying to find freedom, and the one thing he remembered was that Reiyn’s mother had been desperate to escape. So Reiyn had gone to his death while Kyuk lived on, wishing he’d died too.

****

Reiyn followed the woman along the trail, wondering if she really owned a ship. They’d been hiking for hours in the desolate scrub, all that was left of this part of Earth. The rest of the planet alternated between a frozen wasteland and swampland, making this place almost pleasant in comparison, so he stifled his weariness. At any rate, the woman leading him onward didn’t seem like the type of person who lied, but he’d learned a long time ago not to trust anyone.

Well, anyone except for Kyuk, but he is long lost to you,
he thought, keeping pace with Cori. Kyuk had been the only person who’d made his slavery on Xyran bearable. They’d become friends and then sworn a blood oath to each other, becoming blood-kin at an absurdly young age. They’d been too young to do it properly, so he’d stolen a knife to make a cut and take the place of the fangs they’d eventually grow into as adults.

Reiyn remembered
with intense clarity the night they’d snuck away to do it. His hand had slipped as he held the knife to Kyuk’s palm and purple-red blood welled up faster than either had expected, but he hadn’t flinched. When Kyuk had cut him in turn, they’d pushed their hands together tightly, mixing their blood. The pulse of energy that had flown through them like a rushing river once their oath had solidified was like nothing he’d felt before or since. The bond had been made, in defiance of custom and law.

“You keeping up okay?” Cori called over her shoulder, hazel eyes sharp with intelligence and not a little bravado.

Reiyn ran a finger over the scar on his palm. The look on her face dared him to get angry, but little did she know that he had far more control than most humans over his emotions. “I am fine,” he replied. “How far have we yet to go?”

She made a face and sighed. “Another half-hour.”

Reiyn nodded, and she turned around again, hiking a little faster. He watched her backside sway to and fro, thinking once again that this woman was more than a match for him. She’d braided her blonde hair into a complicated design around her head, and he wanted to take it down and run his fingers through the strands. It looked like it would fall to her waist. He would have liked to have sex with her, but the timing of the distress beacon made such things impossible.
And you have no idea if she would be open to that, either, warrior,
he told himself.

“I will need to retrieve the fuel cell before we can go,” she said, pausing to wipe her face with a small cloth.

Reiyn decided not to tell her that she’d only succeeded in smearing the dust around on her skin. “Very well,” he said when she raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not coming with me to get the fuel cell,” she added.

He stopped and frowned at her. “Unacceptable.”

She kept going. “Too bad. I’ll leave you at the ship. You’ll probably want to look it over anyway.”

Reiyn narrowed his eyes at her back, suppressing his irritation. She kept her spine very straight as she walked. “You do not trust me?”

She snorted and spun around, walking backward. “Um, no. We just met.”

He held out his arms. “I am no threat to you.”

She stopped and cocked her head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust anyone.” She pivoted and started walking again, careful not to disturb the trail as she hiked. “I’ll set you up with the ship, then get the fuel cell. It won’t take long.”

“I prefer to come with you,” he countered, hiking faster so he could loom over her. “If something happened to you—”