Hunted: BBW Alien Romance (Warriors of Karal Book 4) (3 page)

“Clandestine meetings?”

“Not of the kind you are thinking of. But there is a lot at stake right now, so many pieces of the puzzle coming together.”

“By puzzle, I assume you mean the saving of Earth and its human inhabitants?” Garth asked, starting the engines after clearance had been received.

The space cruiser seemed to hang in the air for a moment and then they took off, heading out of the atmosphere and into space. Garth looked down behind them as Karal became smaller and smaller. He loved the view of the planet from up here; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, two suns caressing the violet sky.

“Humans, Karalians, we are all interdependent, although sometimes the Hier Ruler tries to ignore that fact.”

“We could just go and take the females we need and leave the rest of the humans to perish on their Earth,” Garth said, to which Okil sighed loudly.

“I am so tired of explaining this, Garth, we are better than that. Soon you will see that.” Okil leant back in his seat and closed his eyes. “I need to rest.”

“Then don’t let me keep you awake.” Garth throttled back and they cruised past the space station and headed towards the wormhole, its beacons blinking, guiding them towards it.

He took the time to gather his thoughts together. It was only just becoming a reality to him that in the next few hours he would be given a female to breed with. They would journey into space to look for a new world, for a species he had no interest in saving. And yet Okil’s words rang in his head, and he tried to understand why the Karalian race, so strong, so self-reliant, needed these weak humans for anything other than breeding.

A whole new life was about to be thrust upon him, and the loss of his old carefree life struck him hard. He had never had to answer to anyone, except his commanding officers, but his time away from the warriors was his. His leave was a time he used to please himself, go where the wind took him. Climb the mountain, swim in the ocean, eat at whatever hour he wanted.

Would all this be gone now?

The beacons grew closer, and he guided his cruiser towards them, ready to enter the wormhole. Checking the instruments, he placed his hand on the control stick and inched it forward, speeding up and then holding it steady as the wormhole enveloped them.

The ship spun around a few times, and then he righted it and kept it steady as the lights of stars and planets flew past them. Next to him, Okil slept; his colours flashing across his skin, gave Garth the impression he was dreaming, but what about? What secrets did this Karalian hold that might cause him troubled dreams?

Or were they pleasant dreams? Dreams involving his human female, the woman he had conceived a child with?

Garth turned back to the view in front of him. Wormholes were simple, nothing complex to understand, a hole in space connecting one part of the universe to another. Much easier to understand, he was sure, than an alien female.

The wormhole ended, and he saw the big, bright Earth moon in front of him. It shone brighter than any beacon he had seen, and he was drawn to it, and then he turned, his cruiser heading towards Earth, and that view was even more wondrous. He had never expected the planet to be as beautiful as Karal, but it was: blue to Karal’s violet skies. But the atmosphere appeared muddied, and he recognised the pollutants in the air and dreaded having to breathe it into his lungs.

Yet this was where he had to go to find his mate, but he would stay in the cruiser, waiting for the lottery female to come to him. Okil could go about his secretive business and then they could depart.

His ship’s computer flashed up the coordinates of where he had to land, and he took the cruiser down towards the ground, taking readings of air pollutants as he went. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the composition of the air. This planet was sick. Did that mean his female was sick too?

No, Okil would never allow a sick female to come to Karal. Would he?

Looking sideways at the sleeping form of Okil, Garth had his doubts. What if the weak-willed Karalian took a sick human in out of sympathy?

Bringing them in to land, he placed his hand on Okil and shook him awake. “We are here.”

“Thank you, Garth.” Okil rose quickly, went to the back of the craft, grabbed his belongings and backpack and a roll of paper and then hit the button to lower the ramp. “I will return as soon as I can. Make sure you are polite to the lottery winner; she will be afraid, although she might not show it.”

“I will be courteous, Okil, you can be assured.” Garth watched him disappear out into the polluted night, and then shut the ramp again and waited. She was due in an hour. He sat back and waited patiently, as any Karalian warrior would.

***

“She has not arrived.” Those were the words he greeted Okil with as he entered the cruiser some two hours later.

“Have you checked with the Lottery HQ to see if she had made contact?” Okil asked.

“Yes, twice. They said they would radio us if she was found. She has stood me up.”

He didn’t know why, but he took it personally, even when he reminded himself that she had no idea who he was or what he looked like. This was still a personal affront to the huge Karalian. It was a matter of pride.

Okil brushed past him, depositing his belongings, which now included a bound folder of papers and another backpack, in the hold. Then he went to the control deck, radioing the Lottery HQ once more.

“And you have no fixed address for her?” Okil asked.

“No,” came the answer.

“Thank you. Permission to fly within your atmosphere to locate her.”

“Of course, permission granted. I will notify the tower.”

“It seems we must hunt her down.” Okil pressed other buttons on the cruiser’s console and pulled up some data. Flicking through it, he stopped at a screen and then zoomed out. “The signal is weak, but this is where she is.”

“How can you pinpoint her?” Garth asked, coming forward and looking at the screen.

“She has a tag in her neck. It sends out a signal and we can pick it up.”

“This tag is definitely her?”

“Yes, it is linked to her DNA. It’s how Darl matched her to you.” Okil sat in his seat. “Shall we go? I am afraid she might need our assistance.”

Garth sat down and powered the engines. Yes, this female was already influencing his life, and he hadn’t even met her yet.

“We are in trouble.” Tamzin had moved among the other people under the tarps so her mouth was next to Sybil’s ear. The words were for her alone. The last thing they needed was panic, but by the look of things, that was what they would have any minute now.

Those on the outside edge of the shelter were now sitting on their haunches to keep off the ground. It was beginning to become a thick sticky mud, which would damage their skin if they touched it.

“I know. But while the rain lasts, what are we supposed to do?” Sybil said, her face shadowed in fear.

“If we stay here, we are going to die.” Another burst of rain battered them, and the whole group seemed to be buffeted sideways.

“And what will happen if we go out there?” Sybil asked. “I don’t like it, but we stay put.”

The wind buffeted them again and more rain splattered across the tarp. Tamzin closed her eyes, wishing she was somewhere else, somewhere where the sun shone and she was safe. When was the last time she had felt safe? Never.

That was right: never in her life had she felt safe and protected; her days had been spent lurching from one nightmare to another. Those nightmares had always ended in the death of someone she loved. Now it seemed death was reaching out for her, for all of them. These pitiful excuses for human beings were dying, even though half of them hadn’t realised it yet.

Sand was the other problem. The wind was whipping it up, and it was falling on the tarp, and around it, the south-facing side was now covered in a layer of it, making the tarp heavier. To make it worse, they were all getting tired. The long walk across the desert had tired them, and now with no rest and no food, they were not strong enough to hold on for much longer.

A sudden gust, and the tarp was ripped out of someone’s hand. A scream went up, and they fought together to catch the edge before it blew away, taking their only shelter with it. Tamzin stood, getting a faceful of rain and sand, which blinded her, but she reached the edge of the tarp and dragged it back down.

The cover, now back over them, revealed the next problem. Someone had slipped and their leg was soaked in the caustic wet sand.

“Don’t brush it with your hand,” Sybil called.

Sobbing filled the shelter, as slowly and methodically, someone helped brush the sand off with a gloved hand, but it didn’t stop the wet burning her skin.

“We have to keep still,” Sybil said, her voice belying her fear. Tamzin looked at her, wondering what was wrong now, and then she followed Sybil’s gaze and saw that their movements, as they had fought to right the tarp, had led to the sand underneath them becoming a quagmire. One by one they had to stand so only their feet would get wet, which gave the wind and rain the advantage it needed, and it began to relentlessly pull at the tarp, coming under it, making the ground wet, which in turn made the sand stickier, and they began to sink.

“Damn it,” Tamzin said. Of all the ways she thought she would die, this was not it. Not out in the middle of nowhere. She was supposed to live to at least an old-enough age to suffer her lungs packing up from inhaling the sand too much.

Then, in the distance, a different noise could be heard. A noise none of them had heard before. “What is it? Rescue?” Tamzin asked.

“Honey, no one rescues people stuck in the desert.”

“Then what?” Tamzin asked.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” Sybil ducked down and looked out, only to stand up, her face pale. “It’s some kind of vehicle.”

“Who would be out here in this storm?” Thomsk said, moving towards his kids, putting a protective arm around them while still clinging to the tarp.

“Maybe they’ll pass on by,” Sybil said.

“Surely any help is better than us being stuck here,” Tamzin said.

“Are you sure? I mean who helps people like us?” Sybil cut Tamzin’s answer off before she had chance to voice it. “Without wanting a lot of coin in return.”

Sybil had a point. If there was someone out there they would be mercenaries, people out for what they could make off these poor people stranded in the desert. For all they knew, they might be out there now waiting for the tarp to blow off and for them to become stuck in the sand one by one. Then they could pick over the dead bones at their leisure. No one would see, no one would know.

“Hello.” A voice sounded from outside.

“What do we do?” Tamzin asked Sybil, everyone else’s face held the same question.

In response, the rain came down heavier, leaving Tamzin with soaking-wet ankles. “We have to take a chance. We are going to die here.” She shouted her words this time; there was no use trying to hide the situation, the others weren’t stupid.

“We are looking for Tamzin Barnstable.” The voice boomed louder, and Tamzin’s heart stopped beating for a moment as she tried to work out why anyone would want her.

Am I dead? she asked herself. Was this the grim reaper or something coming for her soul. Had she died in the storm?

“Tam. Tamzin, they want you,” Sybil said. “Who are they? The law?”

“No,” she said shaking her head. “Do you really think I’ve done something so wrong that the law would come looking for me in the middle of the desert, in a rainstorm?”

“Well, who else would it be? How would they even know to find … you.” She looked Tamzin in the face, her eyes piercing. “I know who it is.”

“Who? What’s going on here, Sybil?” Tamzin was scared now. Really scared.

“Aliens,” Sybil breathed.

“What?” Tamzin thought Sybil had gone mad, that the rain had addled her brain.

“There is this rumour going round the tags are tracking devices, that they track everything we do. Everything we eat, damn, they probably know how often we visit the box.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. For a start, do they really need to know how often I visit the box?” The box was the name for the toilets dug into the sand, makeshift holes with a box over them for privacy. No mod cons in the desert.

“Well, how else did they find you here?” Sybil asked as the voice called Tamzin’s name once more.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“Honey, you get off this planet. That’s what you do. If they are here, that means you are the lucky girl who won the lottery. Now, you make a run for it.” Sybil urged her forward to the edge of the tarp, and held it up so they could duck down and look.

“How am I supposed to get to them?” she asked. The vehicle had no visible means of access.

“Shout, tell them you are here, let them figure it out. They need you in one piece, don’t they?”

“I don’t know. If I die, there are another billion women who would gladly take my place.”

“That’s not how this works. They chose you specifically, you must be compatible.”

“Compatible? With what?”

“Them, you numbskull. One of them must be compatible with you, which means you are worth a lot to them.”

“I can’t leave you all here,” she said, not just because she knew she would not see them again. But because she knew these people, these faces she had known all her life, would die here if the rain didn’t stop soon.

“Yes you can,” Thomsk said. “At least we will know one of us survived, one to remember us.”

His children were clutched to him, both crying, and her heart broke. He should be able to save his children, look after them, and know they had good food and clean air to breathe. A sob escaped her. “I can’t.”

“She’s here,” Sybil yelled and pushed Tamzin to the front, where the rain splattered her cheek, stinging it.

A light came on and the tarp was illuminated. Then the vehicle moved towards them, and a ramp lowered. At the top of the ramp stood a man, a huge man. Larger than life, with the light from the vehicle framing him.