Anstractor (The New Phase Book 1) (13 page)

He kept watching Rafian, whose rapid eye movement seemed erratic as he puzzled over what was going to happen to him, and whether or not Camille and Tayden were going through the same thing.

“What’s to happen to me, sir?” he finally asked, resolved that he would finally meet his fate through pain and death, the way he had always imagined it would end within this hell of white walls and mysterious people.

The old man kept pacing, and a number of men and women walked in, dressed in silver armor and brandishing black staves. When they surrounded him—there were six in number—he dropped to one knee in anticipation of lashing out and forcing them to kill him as a fighter instead of a prisoner or a pathetic example for the other recruits. When he fell to his knee, one of the armored women touched him with her staff, and he felt his body go still and then topple. He was now helpless, unable to control any of his limbs or utter a word.

The six jumpers interlocked the staves in a way that hoisted him above their heads and took him to the library, where they moved a panel on a shelf. It opened up to reveal a circular room where a bright crystal stood floating within a column of light. There was nothing else in the room except for a stone chair decorated with symbols that looked like nothing a human could have made. Rafian wondered what had happened to the other recruits. He would normally see some mulling around during that time of day, but the temple seemed to be vacant as his captors strapped him to the chair facing the crystal. He began to feel a numbing pain behind his eyeballs.

“Welcome to your first jump, young Rafian.” The old man was speaking, but it appeared as if he was doing so telepathically.

“In a few minutes, you will cease to be who you are and will forget everything that you think you know about your life, your history, and even your beloved Camille YAN. You will be making your first jump, recruit, and when—or should I say if—you complete the mission, you will come back to us a person.”

As soon as he said the word “person,” Rafian lost consciousness, and the bright light was the only thing that he would remember for a very long time.

On the quiet streets of Dearin, Talula, a lone, dark figure appeared from the mists, looking about as if it were his first time there. It was midnight, and the clean night smell was welcoming to his nostrils, especially after a long day of running madly through the wilderness to get here. The man was cold, and he paused by a streetlight in hopes of its warmth being sufficient, at least for a little time. A Soltek officer walked by, giving him the customary nod, and he smiled in response. She was pretty cute and probably the most pleasant thing he had witnessed since his arrival. Her beautiful round face was enough to make him forget his aching legs for a while, so the gift of a welcoming smile was the least he could give her.

With much hesitation, the man pulled himself together and continued his stroll, his mind flashing to the past’s unknown and the future’s uncertainty. His memories were a dense nothingness, and it hurt when he tried too hard to bring them up. He knew his name, though, which was the only thing he could manage when he tried to remember how he had gotten on the moon of Talula.

His name was Rafian, but where he was from was a mystery to him. He had awoken in a wilderness lush with olive-colored foliage, blue flowers, and streams of pinkish water that reflected the tiny sun that illuminated the moon. Looming like a giant eye above him was a beautiful blue-and-green planet, and though he knew enough to realize that he was an educated man, Rafian was still unsure as to what may have caused such deep Memory loss.

He walked for a number of days before he saw the lights of the city and made his way towards them. On his journey out of the wilderness, he found an abandoned camp with some leftover food inside a tent. About a mile or so later, he came across the bodies of the campers, who seemed to have been mauled by a large animal. He rummaged through their clothing and collected the coins and items that they had on their persons. While he had no Memory, he felt as if he knew everything about the people of the city.

His deep thoughts were soon interrupted by las-gun fire, and he dashed to the sidewalk to avoid the crossfire. Some men were pursuing a darkly clad man, exchanging shots midstride and endangering anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Ducking behind a bench, Rafian watched the fight continue until the man killed the two pursuers with expert aim and precision. With his heart pounding, Rafian snuck behind the closest building and dashed towards the next intersection. Looking around for any more trouble, he spotted a lively saloon and made his way into its doorway.

The saloon was bustling with activity. It seemed as if the entire city were there. Rafian walked in and checked his pockets as if more credits—other than the two hundred he had taken—would magically appear. To his dismay, there was no such magic, so he tried to find a private area where he wouldn’t be tempted to spend the few that he had. He looked around for some time and eventually spotted an empty booth towards the back of the saloon. He started making his way towards it.

“Welcome to the saloon, handsome!” A short human female stepped in front of him to bar his way, breaking the background noise with her greeting.

“Hello,” Rafian said, astonished by how bold this woman was. She wore a very short skirt and a golden top that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was cropped short and accented by azure fanlike frills. Her skin was a light tan and was complemented by lovely full lips, tinted blue to complete the ensemble. She stood a little over five feet, was extremely shapely, and was very well proportioned. Rafian immediately knew what she was as yet another thread of familiarity broke through his amnesia. Apparently, she was a prostitute who smelled the off-worlder on him and had moved to meet him as soon as he came in. No matter what galaxy you were on, the foreigners were usually the easiest tricks to turn, so it made sense for her to be as friendly to him as she was being. Rafian in this state of mind was no different, because he wanted her, and he wanted her badly.

Seeing the surprise in his eyes, the sexy nymph introduced herself as Riyah Mist and took his arm as he walked to his table. The fur couch felt like heaven as he sat across from her and relaxed for the first time in two days. Scanning the saloon, he noticed the walls were made of stone. The bar itself was also made from a rocklike substance, and the glasses all had a dark transparency that made it difficult to tell what fluid was being poured into them.

The clientele was a mix of alien races, and very few resembled him and Riyah. People were staring, but most were caught up in their own conversations and drinking without a care in the world.

“So, where are you from?” Riyah asked as she seductively ran her right leg up Rafian’s left. She was smiling with her tongue between her teeth and wiggling to let him know that she was hot.

Rafian felt as if he had to keep his cool, as this woman seemed like a she-wolf who was after the few credits he had and nothing else. With much effort, he concentrated on this fact. She wasn’t his friend; she didn’t care about where he was from, and if she could sucker his credits away without a sexual act, she would gladly rob him and leave him as dead as the men he had witnessed getting shot earlier.

Snapping into gear, Rafian cocked his head with a sly smile and said, “Be cool, lady. I’m not from here, as you can probably tell. I don’t suppose you know any friendly locals who could help me feel at home here, do you?”

Riyah flashed a toothy smile and asked, “What do you do? Are you an officer or merchant? I can’t imagine anyone else outside of that hopping around the galaxy…or maybe…are you a pilot?”

Looking up at the dance floor with a distance in his eyes, Rafian replied, “I am a bit of each, babe. Please don’t think me rude, but it grows late, and I have an urge something terrible. The only cure may be a drink and a bit of tenderness, if you know what I mean.”

In a strange, awkward moment, Riyah Mist stared at Rafian as if trying to read the thoughts in his head.

“You do understand what you’re asking for, don’t you?”

Rafian brushed it off and scanned the room. He was not sure what he was doing or why the words flowed from his mouth so effortlessly, but he kept talking, partly hoping that the prostitute could read more into who he was and tell him.

“I’m no nugget, Riyah. What type of credits do they lay on you for a bit of your love in this place?”

As she answered, Rafian missed it as he spotted what he was looking for. A large brute—who seemed out of place in the saloon—kept glancing in his direction as he and Riyah spoke. Either the brute wanted Riyah as badly as he did, or he was her “manager.” Rafian suspected the latter, and, turning back to the beauty, he thought about what his next move should be.

“Price sounds fine, lady; how about you show me what Talula has to offer?”

Smiling that toothy smile of hers, Riyah replied, “I want to see what YOU have to offer, outsider. I will be right back. Let me run to the little girls’ room, and we can head out once I return.”

As she swayed her hips off towards the saloon’s hole, Rafian crossed the room behind her, trying to mask his intentions as best he could. As they stepped into the bathroom lobby area, the brute pursued—as Rafian knew he would—so he slid a knife into the palm of his hand and held it close to his body. Time crawled by, seeming like eons as he let the calm settle within as he neared the women’s bathroom door. Some pretty Carians were leaving. Their hair was adorned with jewels, and they were wearing scented clothing that accented their supple, voluptuous bodies, causing the passion in Rafian to rise again.

The lobby emptied conveniently, and he paused outside the bathroom door as the brute approached for the usual robbing and easy money. Rafian drove the knife under his exposed chin to pierce the man’s brain, withdrew his blade, and in a matter of seconds slit his throat and buried the knife hilt deep into his solar plexus. The dead man collapsed into him, and Rafian grabbed him and shoved his body into a nearby closet.

Things were really bumping in the saloon, and the band’s loud melody and the fortunate timing made killing the pimp almost symphonic. Rafian’s original plan had been to possibly scare the man into letting him have Riyah, but he knew the empty lobby was a sign. At least he thought it was a sign.

Rafian checked for blood on his person and secured his mood. Then he stepped into the women’s bathroom, where Riyah was waiting, smoking a cigarette and looking at herself in the mirror. Apparently this was the usual activity for beauty and the beast. The lobby had not cleared by accident, since she was waiting for the murdering brute to come in and deliver money from Rafian’s corpse.

She played it cool as he entered, but her puzzled expression was an open book.

“What’s the matter, baby? I would think you didn’t expect me,” Rafian mocked, smiling widely as if he were being genuine.

“I told you I have an urge, lady. It got crazy as I waited out there for you. Solteks came and took this big guy away, so I slipped in here during the entire bustle. I was lucky they didn’t see me.”

He let the lie sink in and examined her reactions. As expected, she believed what he had told her.

“Remember, it’s a hundred credits, right?” she asked, smiling back, and Rafian placed the money he had slipped from the pimp’s pockets onto the counter.

“You paid, so we can do whatever you want,” she said as she inhaled the smoke with a seductive, demonic glaze over her eyes. “So, should we go find a room?” she asked.

But Rafian was no longer talking. Taking her hand into his, he guided her into a stall and locked it. Riyah complied as he pressed her up above the toilet and made love to her, hard. It was not to punish her with sex, as that would be too easy. It also was not a tactic he was a big fan of. He wanted a good time. It was what he had wanted all along, before the brute and his nymph’s attempt at a trick. Riyah moaned in pleasure and surprise as she was filled from minute to minute, their lovemaking taking the better part of an hour. There seemed to be no end to Rafian’s lust, and she wondered if an eternity of this was worth the credits that he had given her. When he was finished, she was worn through and smiling. He seemed surprisingly energetic and not at all embarrassed at the many times people had come in, hearing and knowing what was going on. He had sparked something within her, and she was grateful that her abusive boss had been taken away. This outsider was mysterious and sexy, and she wanted to see more of him even if credits were no longer involved.

Smiling and thanking her for the good time, Rafian exited the saloon, rented a hotel room a few blocks down the road, and slept peacefully for the first time in a long time. He was bothered by his loss of Memory. His past was a dark cloud, and his only Memory was of a voice giving him instructions to survive and wait for a sign.

When Rafian had arrived in Dearin, Talula, he had no Memory of anything prior, yet one thought was embedded in his mind: he was to stay there until he received a mission. What the mission would be, he had no clue. Hell, he didn’t even know who he was! He thought that due to his build, skill with a gun, and stamina, he might have been a soldier of some sort, or some sort of Soltek agent. Whatever he was, he remained at the hotel for a few weeks, only leaving to visit the saloon for food, drink, and the occasional romp in the stall with Rhiya.

During the weeks that passed, Rhiya sought out Rafian daily and became attached to him in a way that even he couldn’t explain. Despite his misgivings about her, he never ran her off. He happily accepted her advances, especially since she no longer charged him for it. Their bond turned into an odd relationship, with him using her for sex and her using him for protection—and eventually room and board.

When his mission finally came, it was six weeks later, and it came by way of a traditional courier.

When Rafian opened the package, the only details were a number and a vid-phone, which he used to call his contact for mission details. A voice told him that his mission was to join and aid “the resistance,” and he was to get their attention by making a name for himself. He listened to the message while pretending to use the bathroom and quickly destroyed the phone when the voice was finished speaking.

“So, I am a Soltek agent, then,” Rafian muttered to himself as he tried to make sense of his call to espionage, the whole business of his amnesia, and awaiting missions in hotel rooms. The contact he was given for joining the resistance turned out to be a man named Corren Fox. Corren had a slight build and a crop of orange hair, which seemed to be the fashion on Talula. His face was hard, and his demeanor was that of a killer. Rafian recognized him as the same man who had shot the two pursuers six weeks back, and they became quick friends after some conversation.

Over the next couple of weeks, the men bonded through nights at the saloon, throwing back drinks, and Rafian introduced him to Riyah. Corren’s specialty was armed robbery, and he lived very well due to his success at pulling them off and flying under the radar as he did so. No one knew of Corren, but many had been killed by him.

After warming up to Rafian enough to trust him, Corren asked if they could speak business one night in the hotel room. When he arrived, Riyah answered the door to let him in, and he sat across from Rafian, staring at her hungrily as if he couldn’t help himself. Who could blame him? While at home, Riyah always wore transparent, silken, body-length robes that showed off her shapely body, despite the slight underwear beneath them.

“You want Riyah, don’t you, Corren?” Rafian asked with a sly glint in his eye, and Riyah shot him a glance that could level buildings, showing her disapproval of his suggestion.