Feral Flaw Read online

  Feral Flaw

  By

  Skhye Moncrief

  © copyright Skhye Moncrief, Feb 2011

  Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright 2011

  978-1-60394-481-6

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Dedication

  To my sister who would probably love being abducted by aliens, that is those with an Irish accent!

  Chapter One

  Destiny viewed a man's merit as whatever he deemed right and just, but who could triage rationally with his starship's walls caving in around him? Commander Goro shoved the cacophony of his crew members' telepathic pleas colliding inside his head from his conscious mind and plowed down The Seeker's sterile white corridor toward The Chamber where his chosen mate had better be waiting.

  Would others view a starship commander saving his crazed earthling over his crew as the best of choices given the ship was on fire and the verge of explosion? But she was a lesser-evolved humanoid incapable of hearing the chaotic mindspeak aboard my dying starship, he thought. Nor had she a clue how to survive any place other than earth.

  She needs me.

  And I owe her more than the rest of the crew because I brought her here and she's my love-sworn mate. More than the mere fact I hold the kind gentle earth woman in my heart above all else. Without her, my detection methods to reveal spies would have relied solely upon breaking free-thinking law. And without Darla, the second child of legend would never be born. Darla's existence has kept my actions true to The Cause.

  The dissonance of fleeting word bits crashing into complete words dug deeper into his thoughts like burrowing worms, infesting and painfully invading my mind.

  "I'm bleeding," a crew member clearly blurted in mindspeak through the disharmony of voices. "I'm pinned against the aft wall in the biosphere."

  Sending someone down to help the crew member was a waste of time. Any moment, the fires contained in the nursery and the helm would set off a mega explosion. The Seeker would become a memory to all freedom fighters in the universe's eighteen quadrants.

  Ashes to ashes... Just what Voldon wanted. The end to a battleship that constantly countered all of the bastard emperor's murderous soul-less strategies. First he focused on nurseries to kill children who might grow into the children of legend. Then, he turned his mercenaries onto my starship. Whether it was to kill me or to capture Darla, Voldon's last stratagem failed with the looming explosion. Voldon was on the verge of killing the woman he desired to possess. Such mindless dogmatism resonated self-destruction. But the animal just kept coming like a feral beast.

  How does one kill such a creature?

  By honoring legend. Somewhere, somehow, Destiny would reveal Voldon's flaw other than simply his controlling the minds of other psychic beings. One would think his being blind to truth suicidal, enough to kill the bastard. Or am I only lying to myself? I have countered Voldon's every move he made to reign supreme over the universe. I even seduced the earth woman he targeted for abduction three years ago. Not that the gentle woman I fell in love with required much to earn her love or wasn't desirable enough to love.

  Darla hadn't been hardened by the Blood Wars. She had hopes and dreams that spread beyond simple survival and freedom of thought and reminded me often of the joys in life free thinkers had no time to remember. But I introduced her to life beyond earth, sucked her into the universal reality of psychic war. And now the heart of my heart could die because of my actions. Am I any better than Voldon?

  Do I harbor the feral flaw?

  How could I when Darla and I freely share our love? Ours is pure emotion, unconsummated. Unadulterated by the addictive blood lust of mated were-assassins. She loves me. Why else would she feign insanity and help me flush traitors from my crew?

  Another presence shoved others aside inside my head. "Can you hear me, Sukhaw? My last wish is to know you've escaped."

  A dutiful crew deserved more than abandonment when drawing their final breaths.

  My starship.

  My command.

  To aid and assist is to sentence Darla and all free thinkers to psychic enslavement. She is The Cause's only means to defeat Voldon. I must fulfill the legend and sire a child with my mate.

  Complete my duty. I leaned into my stride, ground another accursed step of metal floor beneath the heel of my mercenary boot, and ran toward The Chamber.

  * * * *

  The starship quaked beneath Darla's knee-high black leather boots where she stood on the clean metal floor in The Chamber's forested entrance. She knew something was going down. Something terribly disturbing by the odd wayward sounds echoing off the starship's always silent and barren walls, she thought. Since all I ever really heard was the circulating air through the ventilation system, something was damned sure wrong.

  But Goro had things under control. Right? The universe's hottest bad ass always did. And he made me promise to hide out here. That was part of the game to outwit Voldon. But something felt terribly wrong. I nervously slid my palms over reassuring slick hilts of the knives jutting from the tall shafts of my boots, up to the others concealed inside the warm soft leather of my snug mercenary attire.

  I'm armed. Even mentally with my telekinesis.

  What happens if nobody comes?

  Well, Goro wouldn't just leave me standing here. No. He'd come for me. His blood burned for mine as hot as mine did for his.

  Oh to share blood with him at long last. When would he submit to legend and let Destiny have her way with us? If they didn't get to work, they might never have the child of legend. Who, then, would end Voldon's tyranny?

  The door edged open.

  Not the normal smooth sliding action with a swoosh. Something was definitely wrong with the starship.

  Goro's muscular body thrust through the doorway, straddling the threshold, shoving the hatch open, propping the unruly sheet of silver metal back with the wedge of his muscled mass. His serious alien orange gaze locked upon mine. "Run."

  Not good. I stretched my legs and jammed my body into the space created between his hard somewhat giving frame and the unwavering doorframe.

  Pressure trapped me against my mate's hard body.

  Stuck. Damn smashed breasts. "What's happening?" I pushed his solid broad back toward the wall he almost hugged and wriggled in an attempt to free my pinned body.

  He gasped in profile. "Any moment The Seeker will explode thanks to Voldon. I must get you off this ship. Now." He grunted and jammed a boot back between my legs, braced against the doorframe, and groaned, sliding the hatch.

  Boy, he sounded like he was having sex. Not exactly how I pictured us deep in the blood lust he promised at every turn. This wasn't a good time to tease me with promises. But a chivalrous act was a chivalrous act to remember. Even if the guy was a Goth commander.

  His body gave just a smidge.

  Enough to allow wiggle room. Not for my hips.

  A tall gangly crewman slid to a halt in the passageway and scanned our predicament.

  Ass. He probably thought I tried to kill Goro. Like I killed anyone in pretending to side with questionable new inductees. A little blood-letting really didn't hurt anyone.

  Oh to hear their telepathic thoughts. I bet Goro talked a mile a minute in mindspeak... But time was a-wasting. "Can you lend me a hand?" I groaned at the crewman.

  The crewman snaked his fingers around my elbow and pulled.

  Hallelujah. Just enough to get my body moving. I grabbed Goro's shoulder and squeezed free of the pressure,
into the corridor.

  The crewman stepped rearward and scanned me from head to toe.

  Was that an assessment or could he overpower a telekinetic woman wielding knives? By the distrust on his face, the guy probably wished he wore mercenary black instead of the standard white operations' attire. Something to make himself look a bit more intimidating. But with the bloody splatters of red gracing his shirt and pants, he looked pretty damned invincible.

  A force shoved me toward the sterile docking bay.

  "Run," Goro commanded.

  Trying to keep up with someone raised in space was almost impossible. Gravity was so encumbering on Earth and affected a body raised under that smothering atmosphere. That baggage from childhood carried over into space life when sprinting with extraterrestrials. But nothing would interfere with my following the magnanimous starship's commander. Or was devout a better word for the renowned promoter of free thinking? I stretched my stride to keep up with Goro.

  He never turned to see if I managed to avoid his whipping knee-length leather coat and the blunt heels of his boots. He just ran like our lives were at risk.

  Right through the gaping docking bay door.

  Since the enormous cavern still had an atmosphere, none of the pod fighters could have launched yet. Or the obviously jammed external doorway would also be gaping. Deep space would have long since sucked every mercenary into lifeless oblivion. So the other psychic were-assassins awaited their commander's arrival.

  Not me, the crazed Earth girl.

  They undoubtedly waited for Goro.

  Was I really that great of an actress? None of them could know Goro and I played them all. Or Voldon might realize the part he served in Goro's game. And oh how Goro loved to work people to The Cause's advantage.

  What kind of terrible thing drove Goro to abandon ship? An uncontrollable fire? But Goro wouldn't allow his pilots to die in an explosion. He'd be too busy trying to save as many were-assassins as possible to counter the attack of Voldon's forces. Without the shape shifting perks of those mercenaries, The Cause would have dwindled centuries ago. So everyone waited for the word to launch.

  Hopefully sealed inside their pod fighters. They should clear a fire blast that way when getting sucked into deep space. After all, Goro had always told me to hide in my pod fighter. The machine would protect me.

  Goro's ringing footsteps stamped out a beat around the pointed noses of a few seamless pod fighters where they waited like a militia, poised to depart for battle.

  Or a line of huge whacky shaped condiment bottles resting on their sides.

  Goro turned, grabbed my forearm, and wrenched me off my feet. The overhead lighting blurred into a smear of rafters and shadow until I landed squarely and firmly upon my bottom. Seated on a solid surface.

  "Lie down, Darla."

  The universe stilled.

  Goro's shaved head hovered above the pod-fighter's cockpit.

  What an unyielding and calm mask he wore, undoubtedly the only one that worked to instigate his preferred reaction when avoiding conveying the emergency's details he had yet to disclose. Just what was the freaking plan? Did he even have time to explain? With only room for one inside my cockpit, debriefing seemed a distant luxury.

  "They're going to blast the exterior hatch. When it blows, I'll keep up with you. Just keep going. Communication between pod fighters is nigh impossible. But I'll be with you." He turned to his pod fighter.

  Where in the Hell am I to go?

  And how in the Hell am I supposed to survive to get there?

  Now wasn't the time for questions when facing a long dark ride. A fire ball was coming. Or something equally bad.

  Time to follow the sexy guy making rules. The one with the firm ass and slightly bowed legs. And when was I going to run into another extremely intelligent humanoid male again? Like that was even a possibility after falling for Goro's intelligent pontifications and getting lured off the only place in the universe I know. I thrust my boots into the dark recesses of my space vessel as my intended sank into his own pilot's seat in the craft next door.

  He shot me a wink. "When it's safe, I'll have you follow my lead."

  Safe? Shit, safe wasn't even possible in a foreign world where people could read minds, suck a sentient being's blood to gain absolute control over it, and hunt you down to give birth to their children of legend.

  "Password please?" my fighter's computer demanded.

  "Giggle bunny." Only the formal and commanding Goro would think of that ridiculous password. It was definitely a good one nobody would guess.

  The hatch shifted, choking out the light overhead.

  Into the darkness of deep space.

  Talk about rebirth. Daddy's Bible thumping would have finally dreamed up this as Hell froze over.

  * * * *

  The pod fighters shot into the blackness of space around Goro's fighter craft and drew up short. Into chaos, he snarled. Life pods idled everywhere on the radar screen. Pods loaded with my crew like a spray of molecules from The Seeker's last desperate breaths.

  My ship slammed my boots into the nose of my pod fighter with one strong forward thrust.

  Momentum.

  The Seeker had exploded.

  Ashes to ashes, old girl. I respectfully touched my brow in the traditional Xquine manner of my home world.

  Now to embrace the unknown. "Computer, locate Darla's pod fighter."

  "Darla's craft is on your starboard side."

  "I want to be inside her pod fighter. Stay with her."

  My fighter veered right.

  Thank goodness for computers. Pod fighters were virtually impossible to differentiate between given their plain exterior façade and window-less features. The plus was that nobody could gaze into your fighter and identify you. However, the pilot floated through space in muted blackness lit only by a soft orange glow where buttons illuminated a panel. Virtually undetectable.

  Thank the blessed stars for a computer to locate Darla's biorhythms in the sea of bobbing starship debris. Pod fighters could keep up with other pod fighters. But Voldon wouldn't have that luxury. So Voldon couldn't just swoop in and pick off every crewman one by one. Or he'd take out his treasured Darla.

  What idiocy possessed Voldon to attack and risk the female earthling's life the moron so hungered to possess? Why his latest strategy to destroy Darla's transport? With but months left until Earth's winter solstice 2012 he should be focused on finding the crystal Bramyllion skulls he desperately hunted, those last few relics claimed to be hidden on Earth. Voldon's giving up on the collective power of the thirteen crystal skulls was a sign of something.

  Until today's disaster. The idiot suddenly homed in on Darla.

  The only way to protect Darla now was to hide her. Find the opportune moment we can bind our souls together in sacred mercenary fashion. Find a safe place to raise our soul child, the child of legend. As Destiny promised. To do so meant escaping. Hiding. Waiting for a chance to get back at Voldon. Time. We just need enough time to bring the child of legend to life and win the ultimate power game. The game I seem to be losing at the moment.

  One side would win.

  The honorable side. Faith would see me on the side of justice.

  Faith.

  What hid within that concept of loyalty, dedication, and devotion? Disaster for the soul. Perspective. Pure legitimization. A crutch to measure a man as sufficient. Faith, the burden of all souls. A curse. Especially when everywhere a man turned a dictating bastard lurked trying to harvest your thoughts in the Blood Wars. And in the end, who truly won? The man who reasoned he could think for himself like Voldon or the man who followed blind faith to save others like a commander? Was following Destiny any better?

  Thinking about it never provided a clear answer.

  Either way I'm enslaved, by Destiny.

  No true revelation existed otherwise when a commander lived each moment making life-threatening decisions for his friends and comrades. Destiny should pity a faithfu
l soul and reveal which path was the wisest with my starship's cosmic dust. Just a few stepping stones to peace among the stars would do. Darla still stood along those ephemeral steps.

  Waiting.

  Demanding the binding.

  Voldon could never have her though. At some level, the mating had already occurred. The bond was deeper than just sex and blood. The bond was heart and soul.

  "Commander, a Mawshwuc destroyer just materialized aft of The Seeker's location," the computer announced.

  Welcome to the godforsaken Blood Wars.

  Chapter Two

  Curse Voldon. Goro ground his teeth and choked back a snarl. "Relay survival message Code Disaster to all of The Cause's spacecraft." Hopefully, Voldon's forces won't locate Darla's or my fighter in the process, he thought. Or I'll be lucky to save what was salvageable and regroup my forces. That is if a rational person called ordering all escape pods to scatter could lead to salvage more than a final command.

  The radar screen's border flickered in red with the word disaster along the upper edge.

  Peace unto you, my friends.

  "Your crew has been notified," the computer reported.

  My gut sank with the announcement.

  Why did everything seem so final? Was this the end? Had Voldon defeated Estal Goro, second son of a simple farmer, sole survivor of the decimated planet Xquine? Certainly Destiny didn't intend on this being the moment Xquine's colorful history faded into nothing but legend. I had to hold my crew together.

  Restructure.

  Retaliate.

  The pod fighter eased forward ushered by a gentle nudge of momentum.

  The crew would scramble as was standard in such situations in order to create confusion for the opposition. Even Darla who had rattled off the steps for an evacuation drill knew what to do.

  Everybody probably hoped my little actress was accidentally left behind to die in the chaos. But a free thinker would never truly know she feigned insanity given her lesser-evolved mind was impenetrable. Even if I could project into her mind, a fool dared venture into curtained corners of another psychic's thoughts without permission. Talk about sacrilege. But if I could know Darla that intimately, I damned sure would. Something almost dangerous enchanted me with the simple psychic female from Earth. What? Maybe the fact I couldn't read her.