Legend Beyond The Stars Read online

  “We have little choice, Magar. All of us here know the ramifications should we fail in our mission. No, we must proceed, but we need to move fast,” Tarak growled. His voice though quiet exuded his indomitable will. He kept his face an implacable mask.

  He turned to address a younger man, operating a vast complex array of intricate panels, schematic displays and holograms.

  “Wyomeh, locate the quickest exit from this sector and ready the ship for the jump. Casis, declare battlestations and prime the auxiliary weapons. Magar, I assume we have two divisions ready for boarding?”

  Receiving an affirmative nod in response, Tarak turned and strode towards the door.

  Magar followed and motioned for Pilot Officer Wray to fall in beside him.

  “Do you believe we can overthrow our enemies, Tarak? So many cycles have passed and yet the war rages on. I admit there are times when I wonder whether it would be better for us to depart the Darkos System. Seek a new world to live what time we have left in peace,” asked Magar of his friend.

  “Do not let the other men hear you speak so!” Irritated, Tarak shot his second-in-command a cold look. “There is no peace to be had for us, Magar. How can there be with our race facing extinction?”

  The warriors turned and entered a small apartment. Tarak punched in his code and several panels slid open with quiet smoothness. He perused the collection of weapons presented, then methodically attached his selection to various clips and compartments concealed in his armour.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed his friend’s glum expression. “We must fight to the end. Of more importance, we must continue our search. We must have hope.”

  Magar remained silent and Tarak realised his friend did not need to ask the obvious question.

  “Do you have hope, Tarak?” Wray insisted.

  Tarak clamped down on the bitter resignation gnawing constantly at his very spirit. For over ten cycles their greatest minds had laboured seeking a solution whilst their warriors had waged war in a never-ending battle, and still no solution had been found.

  Why should now be any different?

  In reality he held very little faith they would attain their goal with whatever the traders hawked. The long reign of the mighty Warlord Guardians of the Seven Galaxies was at an end. His people, now little more than rebels fighting a desperate rear guard action.

  Renegades who continued to wage war in an attempt to buy time—this was all that was left of a warrior’s duty. As one who had imbibed with his first breath the age old traditions of the Darkon code of honour and valour, he believed the only thing left for him and those who chose to follow, was to die in battle.

  His gut clenched as if an Elite sabre prong squeezed it dry of all its juices.

  By the stars of Darkos, his race would be remembered as proud and glorious warriors long after they were reduced to dust—his duty as the eldest son of their leader demanded it.

  Hence, this journey so far from their home system to investigate the rumours of a mysterious payload. If the traders proved to be untrustworthy, he would deal with them then turn his attention to the next battle.

  “I have no hope, Wray.” He faced his officers. “But at all costs we must continue to fight for our freedom. Should the goddess decree, we will die with weapons in our hands and honour in our hearts. No one will smear the name of the Darkons while I live.”

  He clapped a heavy hand to the back of Magar, a blow which would have felled a lesser warrior. “Are we not the best fighters in the Seven Galaxies?”

  The older warrior snorted. “Affirmative. No one can beat us in a fair fight. That is why after twelve cycles of war, they still have not conquered us.”

  “Nor will they, my friend. Now we will stand, as always, united. I know of what you all will lose by following my lead on this voyage. I can think of no better companions to fight at my side. Come. Let us see how deceptive these traders are.”

  Tarak secured the panel and the warriors stepped into narrow tubes which lined the opposite wall. In an instant they were whisked to a lower level. Here, there was a hub of activity. Maintenance crew on hover boards performed final checks of the crafts. Four lines of warriors marched towards the shuttles which were fired up, the blinking lights on their undercarriage signalling their readiness for flight. High above the runways, behind blast-proof flexiglass, technicians worked at their respective stations relaying instructions into their comms.

  Tarak and his men split up, each heading to man separate transport shuttles.

  He stalked towards the lead shuttle. The men pounded their chest with their right hand once in salute. Tarak acknowledged their sign of reverence. As he entered the craft heading towards the flight deck, he keyed in his protective armour code. From the confines of the armour encasing his shoulders and neck, a helmet emerged to mould against his head. The advanced nano technology immediately connected to his brain.

  The barrage of information always came with a slight electric charge which never failed to cause his muscles to spasm in protest. He rolled his shoulders to shrug off the discomfort, settled into the pilot’s seat, his concentration already centred on the task ahead.

  He would need to ensure they had more than one exit plan.

  Neither he nor his second-in-command trusted the Scaleen traders. His lips curled in a forbidding grimace at the forthcoming confrontation. The transport shuttle left the relative safety of the Darkon battle cruiser, the angular shape of the traders’ ship in his sights.

  A small contingent of twittering Scaleen traders glided along the curved corridors on their hover boards.

  In their wake, Tarak and his men marched with military cadence, weapons primed and ready. All sensors tuned into the smallest hint of trouble.

  Beside him, he observed Magar utilise his compu unit to sweep the chambers hidden behind heavy metal doors which lined the long corridor for signs of concealed militia.

  So far, nothing.

  And that by itself bothered Tarak. The hairs on his nape prickled.

  Tension radiated off his men. His body tightened with the effort of maintaining control as adrenaline surged through his blood stream. Too much depended on him and his warriors. If the Scaleen traders deceived him, he would have difficulty in reining in his vengeance.

  They stopped outside a well secured door and one of the traders performed a complicated series of codes on the control panel. The door slid open.

  “Come. Come. You shall see. Here is what you have been seeking,” hissed the Scaleen leader. His one bright red eye glowed, an unholy beacon in the darkness of the grey hood which covered his pointy head. “Three energy chips is the price. You must pay now.”

  In his excitement, his hover board wobbled. He pitched sideways with an agitated squawk.

  Tarak brushed past. Behind him, the trader grumbled in his wake as he entered the chamber. His men followed, fanning out on either side of the entrance. By force of habit, five remained outside, their weapons pointing down the corridor which stretched in both directions.

  “By the holy hem of Cercis’ cloak, they register as human. And carbon based.”

  He heard Magar mutter as he rechecked the scanner. Tarak noted the instrument in his subordinate’s hands give a minute wobble.

  Tarak stood motionless, legs apart, his in-built scanners first checking the room for danger and then zeroing in on the inhabitants. There appeared to be around forty or fifty of them bunched together at the far end of the room. A small group of five stood in front and gave the impression of a protective barrier. He raised his brows.

  Most unusual.

  His stomach muscles clenched. Had those rogue traders found something of value? He drew a deep breath. Through the filters in his suit drifted the familiar scent of fear.

  And …?

  He scowled. Inhaled with deliberation using all his senses to collate data and analyse. A faint whiff. A scent he had almost forgotten. Female.

  Then, to his extreme astonishment, sexual interest
stirred deep down in his groin.

  Nostrils dilating, he stalked towards the group in the centre of the room, his two subordinates kept pace. Without communicating with his men, he knew by the level of tension flooding the room, they also had detected the tantalising scent.

  A Jurian male in an out-moded jumpsuit lingered close-by, flapping his hands. Three fellow Jurians waited in a huddle near the far wall. All the females were clothed in an odd assortment of garments. Different skin tones and facial features revealed they were of different races, bound together by their mutual fear of the enemy.

  One of the females caught his attention. She stood straight as any warrior a pace or two in front of the others and with her square chin tilted starward, her posture radiated a proud defiance. He stared, his gaze sweeping over a slim body with soft curves easily discernable beneath the flight suit, to linger on her face, drinking in the clear blue-green of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. This one with her air of command and direct gaze baffled him. A strange pull urged him to step closer and he shook his shoulders as if to rid himself of an uncomfortable itch.

  He forced himself to remain cautious. It would be foolish to assume success—for the traders were as slippery as coda worms.

  This could be an elaborate ruse to throw them off guard.

  And the swift recollection of the Elite battle cruiser heading with lethal intent towards their co-ordinates cooled Tarak’s heated blood.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Predators! Alana stared horrified at her first glimpse of this new threat. The women at her side cringed. She spared them a quick, encompassing glance.

  Jessamine stood goggled eyed. “Oh, moma. They are huge. Are you sure we can do this, Alana?”

  Faint perspiration dotted Elise’s forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she wailed.

  “There’s no time for hysterics Elise. Now everyone just remain calm. Let me do the talking. I’m sure these aliens will listen to reason.” Alana spoke with a feigned brisk reassurance. It wouldn’t do to show the mounting apprehension which clawed at her gut.

  She didn’t blame the women for their fear. It had been all she could do to control a yelp when the aliens had trooped into the room. They exuded an aura of danger and death.

  And she was used to the sight of battle hardened soldiers. Behind her she could hear the gulping snivels of some of the women.

  Weeping and wailing would not help them now.

  Alana wiped her damp palms against her thighs, irritated when her knees quivered as insubstantial as dandelion fluff. She squared her shoulders. I can do this! I have to. She stepped forward a few paces.

  And waited.

  The alien she assumed to be their leader came to a halt a mere arm’s length from her.

  And waited.

  The two other aliens had also stopped, one on either side of their leader. Alana swallowed over the dryness parching her throat. Directly in front of her was a massive chest. Her gaze traced a slow path upwards, marvelling at the intricate black armour which covered the alien. It moved with smooth coordination towards her. Amazing how the technology allowed such freedom of movement and yet obviously offered effective shielding.

  She positively itched to try the suit herself.

  The creature’s outward appearance showed a reassuring humanoid composition. Alana gaped upwards. Never had she seen anything or anyone so huge. It towered over her, and she was a tall woman. Alarm bells clanged inside her head.

  With shoulders so wide she could not see past and that non-reflective black armour stuff covering thick forearms, a massive chest and sturdy legs, the alien exuded an aura of power and danger. Her curiosity pricked at the sight of what appeared to be control panels inlaid into the armour above the wrist and along the full length of the arm. It had big hands, gloved and lying in a casual flex position by its side.

  Her gaze travelled downwards. Various items which she took to be weapons hung from a belt at its waist, slim hips and massive thighs, again all encased in armour, knee high boots.

  She quickly jerked her gaze upwards to where she imaged its eyes must be. That is, if it has eyes! Now, now, Alana. Get a grip. What the devil lived under that extraordinary suit?

  A tiny midget manipulating controls? A grotesque squid-like being with no soul?

  Lurid images of torture scenes fed from a lifetime of watching science fiction and horror vids rose up to haunt her. Fool! Concentrate.

  She took a deep breath to state her name, rank and serial number when it moved. The words shrivelled on her tongue, like snowflakes in a bitter Arctic winter wind as with deliberate measured steps, the alien leader circled her.

  It stopped.

  Alana swore she could feel its gaze boring into her, as relentless as an oil rig drilling for hidden wealth. She sensed it was attempting to analyse her strengths and weaknesses.

  The chamber vibrated with a tension so tangible she wouldn’t have been surprised to see it shimmering like a summer heatwave in the air.

  The urge to run, as far and as fast as she could, screamed in her brain.

  This was more than fear.

  A shudder racked through her. With an immense effort, she buried this weird primeval apprehension by calling upon her years of military training. Damn it, but this ‘inspection’ was humiliating. Pride whipped through her. She stood at attention, her posture so stiff she felt if she moved she would snap in two.

  Pressure smoothed over her short hair, lifting the strands, the stroke soothing down towards her nape. Oh God, it’s touching me!

  Her breath hitched in her throat and fear cinched her lungs in a tight embrace while her heart raced out of control. Norman’s words repeated in her mind. ‘From my investigations I understand you are required for research. Why and exactly what type of research I have been unable to ascertain. I do know the Darkons seek females from any race, in particular, females that are carbon based …’

  Anger obliterated her fear. A lab rat! No way! That was so not going to happen.

  The touch drifted away.

  Alana set her jaw. Just as well. If it dared prise open her mouth and inspect her teeth, she’d pound him into the deck.

  The alien continued its circle with excruciating deliberation, then once again stood in front of her. She was certain it examined her as if she was a rare specimen.

  The leader snapped off a pouch which dangled from its belt. It appeared to judge the weight by tossing it in the palm of its hand a few times. The alien performed a military about-turn and marched over to where the Scaleen captain perched on his hover board, a crow hovering over road kill.

  “Your payment,” the alien growled. He threw the pouch at the Scaleen captain. “We will take all of them.”

  Alana felt the ripple of shock wash over the women behind her.

  Norman had been right.

  Alana closed her eyes for a second and willed everyone to maintain control. She concentrated on her steadying her breathing and regained focus.

  ”Three is not enough. For all of them, you must give us …” The Scaleen trader paused to confer with his confederates. They muttered together, hoods bobbed up and down. “Yes, yes. Six you must give us six. They are valuable. We can get much, much more from the Elites.”

  The alien leader reached out and grabbed the Scaleen trader by its scrawny neck. He shook the smaller body with such vigour the captain lost hold of his hover board. It clattered to the floor. The other Scaleen traders twittered and hissed. They made no move to assist their comrade.

  “You do plan to betray us.” The leader tossed the Scaleen into a corner, where it cowered quivering and made hoarse hacking noises. The alien turned back to the group of females. He signalled his soldiers and half trooped forward to surround them. The remaining warriors trained their weapons on the agitated Scaleens.

  Ugh, time to act. The situation had deteriorated. Any minute now guns would start blazing. And they would be caught in the middle, between heavily armed giants
and a bunch of scrawny pygmy creatures.

  The small alien appeared to be unhurt. He shook his head and scurried, hissing, to his hover board. She touched the translator, a thin clerical collar they all wore around their neck, and muttered a silent word of gratitude. Norman had assured the women they would also be able to understand these morons, but Alana had been sceptical. She was glad she had been proved wrong.

  Remember the mission.

  She slipped between the armoured aliens and stalked towards their leader.

  ”My name,” she said in an authoritative manner, “is Captain Alana Knight of the United Defence Force. We are from the planet Earth. Our mission is to colonise a new-earth but we have been deceived and taken against our will. We demand to be returned to our home planet.”

  She halted a mere hair’s breadth from its chest. Clenching her hands into fists, she fought a war of nerves, well aware the creature could blast her to oblivion at any moment.

  Sweat trickled down her back.

  A murmur arose from the alien soldiers as if they were disconcerted by her bravado. Alana guessed they were used to intimidating their enemies by sheer size alone.

  “Go, girl!” Jessamine piped up in shaky support.

  Alana’s resolve strengthened. “This is your one chance. I suggest you let us go or suffer the consequences.” She lifted her chin with an outward show of confidence. Ignored her disquiet and stared at the alien. It was so tall, a crick sliced down her neck as she waited. Really, you would have thought it would have reacted by now, but no, the alien stood silent, head now tilted at a slight angle to one side.

  She frowned.

  It was breathing long slow deep breaths. For a second she had the weird impression it was drawing her scent deep into its airways. A hunter scenting its prey? Could the alien be uncertain of its next move? Perhaps it was confounded by the situation. Or perhaps … by them?

  Again, a deep sense of foreboding swept over her but she shrugged it off.

  Before she could take advantage of its confusion, a shrill alarm split the weighted silence. Alana glanced around the room.