Hardcore Green (7 page)
Dirven scowled. "What am I missing?"
"Garoz, or rather Hardcore, bought my freedom with the rescue of the carnival. They are not citizens of the Alliance but rather the opposite. Nomads without a home. They had no right to call for help from the Sector Guard unless they were offering something in return. That something was me. So, either you bought me, or they sold me. Either way I am a free woman with one exception, I am a wife."
She stood casually, arms crossed and watching Garoz in the scanner, frustrated by his inability to come to her. When the scanner beeped the end of its cycle, he crossed the room in two steps.
"You knew."
"I knew. I could be angry, but I was a slave and now am free to be myself, wings and all." She reached up and caught his hair in her fists, pulling him down for her kiss.
Heat flared between them and she was held against him, thighs around his hips when a throat cleared.
Gasping, Sylvain looked over her shoulder and saw a pale woman who shared a species with the Stellar Storm. "As much as Dirven is enjoying the display, we need to scan you so that any alterations or injuries will register. So, welcome to Station 13, Sylvain. I am your commander, Haunt or Kaylee, which I prefer. Now, get yourself on that scanner."
Chastened, but still aroused by the connection between her and Hardcore, she stepped onto the scanning plate and took her turn.
She watched the displays behind Dirven and the expression on his face while he read the reports. He whistled softly and Kaylee darted around to say, "That is really impressive."
Sylvain didn't comment, merely stood until the cycle finished and then moved to step off the disk.
"Wait. I want to run another scan. Can you flare your wings for this one?"
"Sure, do you want me to pout as well?" She crossed her arms and flicked her wings out, her irritation made them larger than usual and she had to pull them back in slightly.
"Pouting won't be necessary. You have a very unique chemical signature."
"Well, as Garoz has told me, I am a rare breed."
Dirven wasn't listening anymore, he was chortling over his data streams.
This time, when the scanner signalled its completion, she snapped her wings shut and stepped away.
"You have an amazing physiology. I can hardly wait to study this in depth."
Sylvain cuddled up against Garoz. "There is nothing wrong, right? I can go and find something to eat?"
Dirven scowled. "Based on this, you don't strictly
need
to eat."
She laughed. "I know, but it's a good habit to keep. Makes me feel a little more normal."
"Fine. There is a lovely dessert selection in the cafeteria today. Go, but if I need blood samples, I will leave a message in your quarters."
Garoz didn't need to be told twice and whisked her out of medical and down another endless hall.
The introduction to the staff was easy when he started every conversation with "Gralial has her soul back."
They were so excited that they wanted to know Syl's impression of his sister and when she replied, "Smiling and huggy." They were shocked.
Garoz winked at a few of the female crew and Sylvain narrowed her eyes. "You were a tramp, weren't you?"
He swallowed and blushed. "I enjoyed my time away from the clans."
"Will you be able to settle for just me?"
He lifted her hand to his lips and promise sparkled in his eyes. "It would be my honour to settle for you until the stars burn up. May I demonstrate?"
She looked at his plate, "Have you had enough?"
His laugh rolled through her. "Not yet. I will tell you in the morning."
Epilogue
The arrow was flying straight at her head so Green turned and let her wing take the impact. The bolt shattered as it struck and she flicked away the residue.
She hauled her stun rifle to her shoulder and started to fire.
"Send Hardcore and Green to a desert planet, she said. Sounds fun, she said. Haunt has something to answer for." She fired again, taking out a row of the small attackers with cold precision.
"Yes, dear. Haunt will be in trouble, dear. Shoot that one on the right, dear." Hardcore was enjoying the weapons fire as they ejected power packs and stunned an entire tribe of folk who had no interest in communication with the Alliance.
Laughing, Green took to the skies, firing as she went, replacing spent charges from the bandolier that was specially fitted to her torso. They were only missing one of the first contact specialists and as Green soared over the now-empty village, she spotted the female staked out in the sun.
"I am here to retrieve you." Green leaned down and cut the leather straps that bound the unconscious woman to the ground. It never hurt to announce herself. It reduced the fist-to-face ratio.
A noise from one of the small huts had her whirling to face one of the folk that were cornering Hardcore at the shuttle. The female looked at her face, the wings and smiled, bowing low.
Not wasting a moment, Green lifted the Alliance team member and took off before the creature could change her mind and fire.
She replayed the moment as she tied the last crewmember into a bunk, giving Hardcore the all clear for take-off. There had been recognition in the woman's eyes but something else. Green wished that she knew what the woman had been thinking.
* * * *
The gods have returned.
Maaski smiled as she watched the graceful flight of a creature that existed only in their legend.
The people of the Alliance had been aggressive in their insistence on putting a base on their world. Only the actions that they had finally been driven to had gotten their point across.
The female Vorwing radiated power and before she could forget the image, Maaski painted it on the interior of her home. Few, if any, of her people would have recognised the importance of this creature, but the lands they inhabited had once been lush and green. When their lone Vorwing had left, the land reverted to its original state. The blessing of the gods lost to their people forever.
Maaski painted the vivid colours of her face, the ivory, gold and red blending into a blue neck with her green hands visible outside her green suit. The wings were living rainbows, hard to catch with her paints, but she did what she could.
Standing back, she smiled at the stories she would tell her children, of the gods that may one day walk their world again.
Where there was one, there had to be others.
Author's Note
Greetings! This story was designed to be read after Hard Hearted. Writing linked books across the publishers was fun and the creation of the Vorwings as a race of earth-goddess fairies was just too tempting.
Thanks for joining the Sector Guard.
Viola Grace
http://www.devinedestinies.com
About the Author
Viola Grace was born in Manitoba, Canada where she still resides today. She really likes it there. She has no pets and can barely keep sea monkeys alive for a reasonable amount of time. Her line of day job tends to be analytical which leaves her mind hopping to weave stories. No co-worker is safe from her character analysis. In keeping with busy hands are happy hands, her hobbies have included cross-stitch, needlepoint, quilting, costuming, cake decorating, baking, cooking, metal work, beading, sculpting, painting, doll making, henna tattoos, chain mail, and a few others that have been forgotten. It is quite often that these hobbies make their way into her tales.
Viola's fetishes include boots and corsetry, and her greatest weakness is her uncontrollable blush. Her writing actively pursues the Happily Ever After that so rarely occurs in nature. It is an admirable thing and something that we should all strive for. To find one that we truly like, as well as love.
