Dark Planet Warriors: The Serial (Books 1-3) (23 page)

“A piece of information, in exchange for-”

“Exactly.”

Devious female.

“Very well,” I growl, admiring her persistence. I’m pleased with the compromise. The corner of her mouth quirks upwards. “But wait until we are a good distance from the civilized zones. Once we are over the Vaal, we shall talk.”

Abbey

Tarak keeps the cabin of the flyer pitch black, and I’m guessing that’s because he doesn’t want us to be spotted. As we leave the city behind, we become engulfed by darkness, with nothing to guide us but the glittering stars.

He’s at home in the darkness. It’s a little unsettling how he can see perfectly well.

Thankfully, I’ve got the dark-vision goggles. I look out at the scenery below. The flyer has a clear, curving roof that allows a 180-degree view of the sky and surrounding landscape.
 

The place Tarak calls The Vaal is completely flat.

It’s flat and white and desolate.

There’s not a single tree or bush or even a blade of grass to be seen.

Occasionally, an outcrop of earth rises out of the plain like an island, but even those are just barren lumps of rock or dirt.

There’s nothing living out here at all. It’s just frost and ice.
 

“It’s an ocean,” Tarak informs me, leaving his seat to come up behind me. He traces his fingers down the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “When our star died, the seas froze over, leaving flat, endless plains of ice. That is what we call the Vaal.”

“And our destination is somewhere out there?”

“There are Kordolian tribes that exist in the Vaal. Animals, too. They have evolved. Adapted. We are searching for one of the Lost Tribes, called the Aikun.”

“That’s why you guys see in the dark and don’t mind the cold.”

“So it seems.” His voice is a low rumble, his touch warm and certain. Possessive. I shudder, feeling cosy for the first time since we left the freighter.

“So what do the lost tribes have that’s so secret and so important?”

Tarak is silent for a while, looking at me with his depthless eyes. Viewed through the lenses of the dark-vision goggles, he’s a study in monochrome, his silver skin taking on a pearlescent sheen, his eyes almost glowing.
 

He looks like something out of a fairytale; a prince of the night.

Look at me, getting all dramatic now.

“The Imperial Prince has exiled himself to the wastelands of the Vaal. The Lost Tribes of the plains are loyal to him; they consider him as one of their own. I see potential in Xalikian, and I need to personally discuss certain developments with him, because there is a role I want him to play. These events may impact on the future survival of our race. It is too risky for him to return to the civilized zones right now, because there are many who would rather see him dead. Therefore, I go to seek him out.”

Oh. Talk about dramatic. I close my mouth, wondering when my jaw dropped.

Tarak shrugs. “Kythian politics is complex.”

“Obviously.” I had no idea Tarak was tight with the Imperial family. “You’re kind of a big deal around here, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always tried to serve the Empire with distinction.” His voice is distant. For a moment, he’s quiet, looking out over the empty Vaal. Is it just me, or does he sound a little bit conflicted? He’s curling his fingers around the nape of my neck, stroking the bare skin there. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” he asks softly.

 
We’re gliding over a frozen sea, alone in a desolate wasteland, and I’m seeing another side to Tarak. It’s a rare glimpse of his inner thoughts.

I wonder what this battle-hardened male has seen and done in his lifetime. Some good things, and some terrible things, I’d imagine, all in the name of the Kordolian Empire.

My curiosity is far from satisfied, but I don’t tell him that. If I have my way, there will be plenty of time to get to know him.

Instead I remove my gloves, taking his hands into mine. I’m sitting in the passenger seat and he’s standing behind me, looking out over the Vaal, the flyer on autopilot.

It feels as if we’re the only two beings on this planet, with millions of miles of vast emptiness surrounding us. It’s as if we’re stuck in infinity; in darkness.

I get up and walk to him. As I reach him, he takes the dark-vision goggles from my face. Without them, it’s pitch black. I can’t see a thing, but I’m anchored by the feel of his warm, hard body, pressing into mine.

“I want to see your eyes,” he says, tracing his rough thumb down my cheek.

“It’s okay,” I reply, running my fingers along his jawline, over the tips of his ears, along his cheekbones, down his nose, to his lips. I trust him. And I rather like this perspective, viewing him with a different sense. Touch is so powerful. He takes one finger into his mouth, and my finger brushes against the sharp points of his fangs.

It turns me on.

He sucks on my finger, his mouth warm and wanting. That simple act makes me moan in surprise and pleasure. I never thought such a thing could feel so insanely erotic.

I’m about to reach out and tear his robes off when a deafening blast goes off, and a flash of light tears through the clear roof of the flyer, missing Tarak’s head by an inch. Going from darkness to blazing light, I’m momentarily blinded. The bolt of light, or whatever it was, has hit the wall behind me, causing a shower of sparks to fly.

An eerie whistling sound echoes through the cabin. I can’t see anything, but it seems like the blast has left a small hole. A stream of freezing air starts to flow inside, causing the temperature to drop instantly.

Tarak spits out a string of vicious sounding Kordolian curse-words.

He picks up my dark-vision goggles. “Put these on.” He passes me something; a blaster of sorts. “Plasma gun. Anyone bothers you, push this button here, and pull the trigger. I’m going outside. Someone’s out there.”

“What?” I look up through the clear roof in alarm. “But-”

I was about to say something silly, like ‘it’s dangerous,’ but Tarak’s throwing off his cumbersome robes and trousers and drawing out his armor, the inky, liquid black stuff coalescing and hardening over his skin.

“I fucking hate being interrupted,” he growls, pulling a nasty looking short blade from somewhere, sheathing it at his back. He bends over to kiss me, and I twine my fingers with his. His hand is now covered with a hard, exo-armor glove. It feels totally impenetrable. No wonder the peacekeepers on Fortuna Tau backed off when Tarak and his boys turned up. I really hope they’re doing okay, back there.

We’ll need to talk about that.

And there’s another little discussion I’m going to have to shelve for later. I still don’t get how the exo-armor works. The nanites live in his body, or something. Are they symbiotic, perhaps? Even though I’ve studied biotech inside and out, nano-technology just boggles my mind.

It’s way beyond what we Humans are capable of right now.

“Don’t move. I’ll be back. If you see an intruder, shoot.” Tarak turns, and the black stuff glides over his face, forming a menacing helm. I’d hate to be his enemy. He opens a hatch at the top and pulls himself up and out, letting a blast of cold air into the cabin.

For a moment, the wind rushes past, impossibly noisy. Then he shuts the hatch, and everything goes silent, save for the thin whistle of cold air that flows in through the crack in the roof.

I hear a thud, then the flyer shakes a little, then there’s footsteps. Tarak appears on the roof, a black-armored figure. He’s followed by a person dressed all in white. The flyer rocks back and forth, unsettled by their movements.
 

They’re trading blows.
 

Tarak’s attacker is agile and nimble, but Tarak is equally as fast, and their movements become a blur. Tarak has drawn his blade, and the attacker keeps hurling things at him. They look like small throwing knives. The weapons are thrown with vicious intent, but they deflect off his armor harmlessly. Tarak dances out of the way, looking for an opening.

Who the hell is this white-clad person?

He, and it’s definitely a he, is wearing a mask of some sort, concealing his features. For a brief moment, he looks down, and it’s as if he’s focusing on me, marking me through the transparent roof. The mask he wears is as creepy as hell; it’s got two black, tear-shaped marks where the eyes should be, but it’s otherwise smooth and faceless.

That split second of distraction is enough for Tarak to sweep the assassin’s feet out from under him. The attacker lands on his back and Tarak tries to stick him with his sword, but the masked guy rolls out of the way.

Tarak stabs again, but again the guy rolls. What Tarak’s trying to do looks near-impossible; he’s balancing on his feet while the flyer rocks back and forth, cold air streaming past them, the whole thing moving at ridiculous speed.

I’m surprised they haven’t fallen off.

The thought of Tarak dropping to the barren wasteland below scares the shit out of me.

There’s no way I’m going to just sit here like an idiot while he’s risking his life out there. I stare down at the weapon Tarak’s left in my hands. It’s similar to an Earth-style bolt pistol, but this one obviously fires plasma. I tap the little button the way Tarak showed me and a series of blue lights flickers along one side.

Whoa. It’s charging?

Was that the safety?

It’s surprisingly light in my hands. I curl my finger around the trigger and walk over to the point where Tarak’s attacker is rolling around on the roof. He aims a gun at Tarak, but Tarak kicks it out of his hand, the weapon flying off into nothingness.

I look through the clear barrier, my arm trembling slightly as I raise the gun. I add my other hand, trying to steady my aim.

I’ve never actually fired a gun before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.

I wait, both arms raised, forcing myself to breathe slowly. My heart is hammering inside my chest.

The guy above is moving all over the place as Tarak stalks him, trying to get a hit in.

I wait, because I don’t want to hit Tarak. I wait to get a clear shot.

Get out of the way, love
.
 

There.

I pull the trigger, and there’s a blinding flash of light. A boom reverberates around the cabin, and the recoil of the plasma gun sends me crashing to the floor.

Did I hit him? I’m not sure.

Tarak

The assassin’s head explodes in a spray of black blood, leaving a splatter of black dots across my visor, marring my vision. His death mask disintegrates into thousands of tiny fragments, instantly whipped away by the rushing wind.

I blink, and then the attacker’s body is gone, having tumbled to the icy wasteland below.

My vision clears as the nanites forming my armor internalize the organic matter. For the minuscule bio-machines, the blood is a source of energy, nothing more.

I look down through the clear roof of the flyer. It has two holes now, but the material has not fragmented. Below me, Abbey is lying on the floor, the plasma gun clasped in her trembling hands.

She looks so small and vulnerable, her face pale and luminous against the dark background of the flyer’s cabin, her eyes hidden by the dark-vision goggles.

This tiny, fragile Human has just taken out a Silent One, a notorious Imperial assassin. They are the most dreaded of killers, feared throughout the galaxy.

She stares up at me, and the most glorious thing happens. She smiles. Her expression is filled with relief, but also with a savage protectiveness I haven’t witnessed before.

Crazy Human. She will be a fine mother to our child.

My female is insane, and I am completely, utterly obsessed with her.

To think I once regarded her species as inferior. She has proven herself braver and cleverer than any Kordolian female I have known.

I open the hatch and drop back into the cabin, willing my helm to retract. The outside air is streaming in from two holes in the roof now, causing an infernal whistling sound to echo throughout the cabin.

I take the plasma gun from her hands, reset the safety and pull her into my arms. It takes her a moment to regain her balance.

She’s shivering, and her lips have taken on a blue tinge.

Even at this low flight level, the atmospheric air is much colder than it is on the surface.

Curse that Silent One to Kaiin’s nine barren hells. How dare he damage my fucking roof? I look around for a repair hatch. Berad’s ex-military. He would have made sure there was one, even on this small craft.

I spot the set of tiny red lights beside the passenger exit. “Wait for one moment,
amina
.” I step away, making sure she’s able to stand. I turn my attention towards the wall.

The hatch slides out as I press my palm to the activation panel. I open the case and find it fully stocked.

I say a silent thanks to that sly old warrior Berad for keeping his craft properly maintained and resourced.

I find what I’m looking for easily; a tube of polymer putty. I snap the tube in half, activating the chemical compounds inside. The putty heats up in my hands, turning from red to grey. I split it in two, making two balls.
 

Reaching up to the clear roof, I slap a ball on each hole. The polymer molds to the defect and hardens instantly, becoming transparent.

The irritating whistling sound stops, and silence surrounds us, save for the low hum of the flyer’s engine.

“You didn’t tell me about the recoil,” Abbey says dryly, tucking her hands into her coat. “That thing has a hell of a kick on it. How do you handle it?”

“Training.” I shrug. Add to that the fact that Kordolians possess far greater natural strength than Humans. My species has evolved to hunt wild creatures across the dark, icy wastelands of the Vaal.

I pull her against me, unable to contain myself any longer. “What were you thinking, female, shooting that thing through the roof? I did not ask you to help me win my battles.”

“No, you didn’t. And I’ve seen what you do. I know you’re quite capable of kicking ass. It’s actually scary, how capable you are. But when I see you out there in the cold, fighting some masked weirdo on the roof of a flyer traveling at high speed, what do you expect me to do? Sit back and watch? What if you’d fallen?”