Chapter 2 #2
“The buyer wants this specific item, not one like it. This one. So no fuck-ups.”
A chorus of confirmations sounded back to him as they approached their destination.
Gark switched his screen to a wider view.
The Xakul invasion force was advancing en masse across the planet.
The dark, glossy hulls of their ships loomed ominously above the most populated areas.
Gark did not want to be on this planet longer than necessary.
Minutes could mean the difference between living and dying.
“Status of the Xakul, A’Kar,” Gark demanded.
“Their usual tactics. Soldiers are engaging ground resistance, but the human weapons are useless.” There was a sneer in his voice as if his own planet had done better. They hadn’t. Gark rolled his eyes.
“Any Xakul ships near our destination?”
There was a pause as A’Kar swiped through a series of screens. “Yes. One. A battleship.”
“Great.” Jarden, their navigator, who mainly kept silent for much of the time, groaned. Gark silently agreed. One Xakul battleship could hold enough soldiers to take out ten cities. More than enough to ruin the job and send Gark back into debt for the fuel and wages for the crew.
He scowled. And that wasn’t even taking into account the utter carnage that would undoubtedly greet them. “Civilians?”
Screams rent the air. A child cried for his mother as a Xakul soldier cut him down, the bug biting into the child’s flesh, blood running down its carapace.
Gark grabs two children—one under each arm—and runs for the safety of his drop ship.
Others do the same, and soon the Xakul are chasing them as they run away with the Xakul's prey…
Gark’s fingers bit into the armrest of his seat so hard they had cramped. His jaw ached from where he had ground his teeth together.
A’Kar snorted. “Lots. It’s going to be a blood bath.”
Gark’s eye twitched.
Their destination was a small, coastal city that once would have been beautiful, but—his eyes narrowed—was now partially flooded. Gark flipped through the incoming visuals. The place looked abandoned, which worked in their favor.
Their destination—their mark—was located in a tall building in what looked like the less affluent part of the city.
This building wasn’t inundated with water—not yet—though the tidal calculations running across Gark’s screen suggested it would only be a matter of weeks before the building was uninhabitable.
Too much water.
Not that that would matter to the residents. The chance that anyone was left after the Xakul had ripped through the place was small. Gark grimaced as they approached and then landed on what appeared to be an elevated road for archaic wheeled vehicles.
The Lady was too big to land in the city streets or on top of a building with questionable structural integrity, so Vox and Jarden had chosen the closest appropriate landing space near their destination.
It was exposed—which Gark didn’t like—but their logic was sound.
Speed was essential, and if that meant drawing a little attention, then he could live with it.
Gark unstrapped himself from his seat as their ship settled, barking orders down the comm as he strode toward the cargo bay, standing in front of the huge door as it levered open.
He ran his hands over the chest harness he wore in practiced movements, adjusting the straps slightly and moving the multitude of weapons into a more accessible position that allowed a full range of motion.
Gark, Vox, and Jarden were the ground team for this job; the rest of the crew were on the ship, keeping the engines cycling and ready for a quick escape, and feeding any updates on nearby Xakul.
They were on the ground in under a minute, quickly falling into formation, Gark in the lead.
The Xakul had already ripped through much of this area, leaving destruction in their wake.
They quickly set up ropes and rappelled to street level, boots landing in ankle-deep water with a splash that sounded far too loud.
Whatever noise they’d made when they’d landed would have drawn any nearby Xakul, and Gark was thankful for the thick fog that dampened the sound and covered their conspicuous ship in gray swirling clouds.
Gark quickly unclipped his harness from the rope that led up to where the ship was parked and shouldered his weapon.
The team all wore HUDs clipped over one eye, with the streets overlaid and their objective marked as a flashing dot.
Jarden took point, as the heavyset navigator was used to much greater gravity, and he practically flew as he ran ahead, scanning all the places an ambush could be waiting before gesturing for Gark and Vox to move forward.
Jarden led them through the streets to their destination, the trio barely breathing hard as they ran.
Wheeled vehicles were haphazardly parked, bodies of the slain slumped where they’d fallen. It was all the same. Debris and oil floated on the water; partially eaten human bodies showed the Xakul had been in their usual feeding frenzy.
Hopefully, they’d moved on.
The biggest threat to their mission now wasn’t resistance from the occupants of this planet—they were far too busy trying not to be eaten—no, the biggest threat was the Xakul themselves.
If they encountered even one of the Xakul soldiers in its feeding frenzy, they would need to retreat, and they’d be lucky to get a second chance.
As it was, they barely had enough time to get this mission over and meet their buyer.
No, it was now or never.
And it was never acceptable. Gark did not want to keep doing these kinds of missions. He wanted legitimacy, not the life of a mercenary—barely above that of a scavenger—that he’d been forced into.
Jarden slowed and took up a sentry position when they reached their destination. The building showed evidence of the neighborhood’s change from affluence to slum. The peeling paint and sagging windows gave the place the look of a leprous old man at the end of his life.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Vox looked from Jarden to Gark.
“It’s the location I was given.”
Gark raised his weapon and slowly climbed the steps to the doorway that led into the building.
The hallway was narrow and dark, their heads scraping the ceiling and their shoulders almost touching the walls.
He’d been provided a schematic of the building and had committed it to memory rather than relying on his tablet.
There were some things he was happy to use technology for, but long experience had shown him that technology wasn’t as reliable as many of his counterparts thought.
“How small are these people?” Jarden asked, ducking to avoid hitting his head on a light fixture.
Gark shrugged. He didn’t care. What was the point of learning anything about the inhabitants of this planet when they were about to be annihilated by the Xakul?
“Most of them are much smaller than us, yes.”
Gark looked at Vox with a raised eyebrow.
“What? I was bored. I learned a few things about these humans. You should see their women.” He smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Jarden.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Jarden asked.
“Nothing.” Vox looked away, a slight flush coloring his bronzed skin.
Gark paused when he found their destination. He tried the handle and found the door locked.
“It’s a little strange we haven’t seen anyone,” Vox said, taking position to cover the hallway.
“It’s not a huge city. Maybe they’re all hiding,” Jarden said as he shrugged.
“But the bugs...” Vox trailed off.
Gark tuned out of their conversation as he opened the door. They were right. It was a little odd. He shrugged.
Get in. Get the goods. Get paid.
The door opened more easily than he anticipated, swinging into the wall with a loud bang.
He paused, weapon raised, and after a few seconds of silence, stepped into the room.
It was a small, one-room home. A compact kitchen was to the left, a table with two chairs, and a single bed was pushed against one wall. Gark took a step closer to the bed.
“Or maybe they’re all dead.” He said, looking down at the elderly man and woman's lax forms on the bed. The man had the woman in his arms, her head buried against his chest. They were dead, but not from the Xakul.
“Almost as if they knew what would happen,” Vox said, his voice devoid of its usual cheery tone.
Gark frowned and shook his head. That made no sense. Nobody knew what the Xakul were like until they’d seen the destruction the bugs wrought on planets like this. And humans? They were as naive and innocent as babies.
“Let’s get what we came for,” Gark ordered, spurring Vox and Jarden into movement.
The big navigator headed to a closet, dropping to his knees more gracefully than someone of his size had any right to, and pushed clothes aside as he looked for the safe they’d been told would be here.
“Odd that they’d need to hide any valuables,” Jarden muttered as he quickly attached a small explosive and covered the safe with a diffusion shield. A muffled bang sounded, and Jarden had the safe open and the contents in his hands. All in a matter of seconds.
Another question Gark didn’t ask his navigator was how he learned to open safes so expertly.
But now he thought about it, it made no sense that this elderly couple in a run-down city, with barely anything to their names, would need a safe.
Gark’s lips thinned. What had he gotten himself into this time?
Get in. Get the goods. Get paid.
Jarden stood and handed over the contents of the safe: a small velvet bag and a small disc the size of a fingernail. A human fingernail. Tiny.
“Remember the rules, Jarden.” Gark slid the items into a tamper-proof packet and sealed it with both thumb and voice print. Nobody could open the packet now unless they were either Gark or his delegate. If they tried to force it, the contents would combust.
“I know…" The big navigator stood and rolled his shoulders as if easing tight muscles from being crouched on the floor. “Don’t ask questions. Get in. Get the goods. Get paid.”
Gark nodded.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The three left the room, Gark giving the couple on the bed one last look. What would it be like to die holding the one you loved when you were old and grey? A warrior didn’t have that luxury, but a part of him yearned for it.
Would he scent his mate as his father’s people did? Or would it be more complicated for him? After all these years, he hadn’t found someone he wanted to spend more than an evening with, let alone his whole life.
He pulled the door shut and turned his back on the wishes and wants of his youth. Being stripped of his rank, his job, and his honor meant no woman would look twice at him. His dreams of companionship until he was old and grey were just that. Dreams.
They left the building.
“Boss?” Arik’s deep voice sounded over the comm link. The mechanic was on watch duty back on The Lady, and Gark tensed at his voice.
“Go ahead,” Gark barked down the comm. Jarden and Vox shared a grim look.
“Xakul incoming from the west. A pod of ten. There’s another ship here as well. Not the bugs.”
Gark ran his hands over his harness. “How much time do we have?”
Arik gave a number that had Gark grimacing. Half the amount of time they’d taken to get here. They might not make it.
“And the ship?”
“Slavers.” Arik’s voice dripped with disgust as he spat the word.
Gark didn’t need to tell Vox and Jarden to get moving; all three had started running as soon as Arik had mentioned the Xakul.
They were almost back at the ship when the most alluring scent Gark had ever smelled had him stumbling to a halt. It was the smell of ripe summer fruit combined with the rarest flowers, and it hit him like a blow to the stomach.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the calls of Jarden and Vox, who had stopped further ahead in confusion.
His lungs filled, and something inside him clicked into place. He hadn’t even realized he had been broken, but now he was whole. And then his eyes snapped open.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Not after so many years. Not now.
A small human darted out in front of him.
She—because it was definitely a woman—was terrified, her hair whipping around her face as she looked behind her.
A screech of a Xakul in a feeding frenzy echoed off the buildings around them.
The woman was so terrified that she ran straight into Gark, bouncing off his chest to land at his feet.
She scrambled backward on her hands like a scuttling crab.
The scent. It was her.
“Help me!” She cried, chest heaving as she gasped for breath.
Gark looked over her at the Xakul soldier who limped out of the foggy gloom. It paused, lifting onto its back legs and let loose a bone-chilling scream. The same scream that haunted Gark’s nightmares.
At least this one wasn’t fully grown. He looked down at the woman on the ground in front of him. Its immaturity was probably the only reason she was still alive.
But he couldn’t leave her any more than he could leave his own heart behind.
He shook his head. In and out. That’s what this mission was about. Get in, get the goods, get out, and get paid. He wasn’t here to save anyone—even people who were about to be eaten alive by his worst nightmare.
But that scent told him she wasn’t just anyone, and leaving her behind wasn’t an option.
Gark lifted his weapon and, taking a step forward to put himself between the bug and the human woman, he fired into the still soft underbelly of the juvenile Xakul.
Because she was his mate.