Ice Planet Barbarians: The Complete Series: A SciFi Alien Serial Romance (16 page)

“This planet has many names depending on the language. Your species has not discovered this solar system yet. Our current location is the second planet in this binary sun system. This particular world completes an orbit around the suns every 372.5 days and rotates on its axis every 27.2 hours. The current temperature is—”

“Cold. Yeah. I know.” I wave a hand because none of this information is helping me out any. “So if he’s not from here,” I say, pointing at Vektal. “How did he get here?”

“This vessel was originally a sakh pleasure cruiser,” the ship continues in a melodious voice. “Due to a solar storm, the crew was forced to shelter at the nearest habitable planet, which you are currently on. They experienced technical difficulties.”

“Technical difficulties?” It sounds so absurd. “Really?”

“This ship is keyed to a specific pilot. The pilot experienced congestive heart failure, and a secondary was unavailable to pilot the ship. A distress signal was launched but malfunctioned. No further signals were sent.”

So Vektal’s people are stranded here too? “When was this?” I ask, feeling a little faint at this new tidbit of information.

“This event occurred 287 years ago. Please note that when this system references ‘years’, it is calculated based upon the orbit of this planet versus the planet Earth.”

And the years were longer here. Jesus. I look at Vektal with wide eyes. He’s looking at me curiously, impatience stamped on his features. I know he has questions, and my conversation with the computer is probably just giving him more of them.

But I still have more questions, so I’m selfish for a little longer. “How many of his people crashed here?”

“Log books record sixty-two passengers and one pilot. Many also died before accepting the symbiont.”

That catches my attention. “Symbiont?”

“The definition for ‘symbiont’ is an organism that lives in symbiosis with another organism.”

I’m starting to get creeped out. “Wait . . . Vektal has an . . . organism in him?”

“This planet has an element in its atmosphere that is toxic to human kind and also to sakh. It is a gas element similar to nitrogen that has not yet been discovered by humans as it does not exist in any form on Earth. Your body is not equipped to filter it out of the air. Once you reach toxic levels of the element, your body will slowly shut down. The sakh at your side exists in mutualistic symbiosis with a creature they refer to as a khui.”

“Khui
,
” Vektal says, suddenly speaking up. He asks the computer a question, and it immediately answers him. Then he nods and looks at me.

“I told him I am explaining to you how the khui functions in the atmosphere,” the computer tells me.

I rub my forehead. “I’m not understanding. So you have to have this khui thing inside you or . . . you die?”

“The khui enhances the body of its host and makes subtle changes in order to allow it to thrive in an otherwise hostile environment. Those who originally found themselves stranded on this planet lasted eight days without the symbiotic relationship.”

Eight days? All I have is eight freaking
days
? “M-modifies it?” I ask weakly. I feel sick. I either get a . . . parasite or I die?

“The khui modifies its host. Genetically modified khui-symbionts are altered to perform at lower temperatures and to filter the chemicals from the air that the body cannot process. It improves the host’s recovery from wounds and sickness, and it ensures procreation of viable offspring.”

Oh, God. So I get a cold-resistant tapeworm, or I get to die. “What if I get this khui thing for now and when I leave, have it removed? Can I do that?”

“Once implanted, the khui and host are dependent upon each other. The khui cannot exist outside of its host for longer than a few minutes, and the host will need a replacement khui in order to survive.”

And here I thought staying on Not-Hoth with my sexy barbarian was the better option than waiting for the little green men to come back. If I choose to stay here, I can’t ever leave again. It’ll just be me and my parasite . . . forever.

Ugh.

But if I don’t get the parasite, I only have days left to live. Not even a week, now. The green men must know that we humans can’t survive on this planet for long. That means that either they aren’t intending to pick us up again . . . or they’re going to be returning very, very shortly. I suck in a breath at that.

The odds are not looking good. I have to get the others out of there, and fast.

I want to ask the computer more questions, but the welfare of the others takes priority. One step at a time—we have to rescue the other women, and then we’ll figure out the khui thing. I turn to Vektal. “We need to talk.”

He touches my face, glowing blue eyes tender. “
Sa-akh mevolo
.”

“Shit. You’re not understanding me.” I turn to the computer. “Can you translate for me?”

“That is one of the functions of this unit,” it says in an amicable tone. “Would you like to learn the sakh dialect he is speaking?”

“You . . . you can teach me?”

“I can perform a one-time linguistic upload. Would you like to do this?”

“God, yes.” I want to be able to hold a real, honest-to-goodness conversation with Vektal. “Please.”

A small red circle appears in midair. “Please step closer to the marked location.” When I do, it gives me additional instructions. “I will perform a retinal scan. When I do, please do not blink or attempt to move. This can interfere with the transfer of information. It will be connected in three . . . two . . . one . . .”

A low hum starts. I freeze in place, trying not to blink as a red laser shines into my eyes.

“You may experience some discomfort as your brain processes the information,” the computer tells me, just before a rush of symbols crashes through my brain and my head feels like it explodes.

VEKTAL

My mate collapses, and my khui slams against my chest in protest. I grab her before she can sink to the ground. “Georgie!”

“Please allow several minutes for recovery,” the strange voice coming from the walls intones.

I snarl at it, at the air. I don’t know where this faceless voice is coming from, but if it’s hurt my Georgie, I will tear this place down to its strange-looking rocks and scatter the pieces to the icy seas. I cradle my mate against my chest, unable to breathe out of fear. I place a hand over her heart, where she has no protective plating. She’s too soft and vulnerable, my poor human.

But it thumps steadily in her breast, and I exhale in relief. I press my lips to her strange, smooth forehead and hold her against me as the room becomes uncomfortably warm.

The disembodied voice speaks again. “Standby. Please indicate if you have questions for this unit. Otherwise, I will return to hibernation mode.”

I hold Georgie against me, stroking her hair, her face, her cool skin that cannot retain enough warmth for her to be comfortable. I ignore the strange voice, even though it’s now speaking my language. When Georgie jabbered at it in her tongue, it sent a red beam through her head and knocked her unconscious. I do not want it to do the same to me, so I narrow my eyes at the flashing lights and wait.

Georgie’s sleeping face turns to my chest and she nuzzles me. “Mmm.”

“Georgie?” I ask, touching her cheek. “Are you well?”

Her eyes blink open, and the pale, ugly white with a weak blue circle in the middle is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Oh. I hear you,” she says in my language. “Your words. They’re . . .” she thinks for a minute, and then a smile breaks across her face. “Wondrous.”

“How did you learn my language?” I ask her, shocked.

She tilts her head, her nose scrunching adorably for a moment. It’s as if she’s considering something. Then she smiles again. “The words are a bit different than the ones in my head. Maybe it’s the
die-ha-lekt
that the
kom-pu-tohr
has.” Some of her words aren’t mine. They make no sense.

“Kom-pu-tohr?” I ask.

Georgie gestures at the air. “The voice. The ship. It taught me.”

“Magic?” I ask dubiously. The only magic I know of is khui-magic, and it does not teach languages.

She giggles, the sound bright and glorious. Then her eyes grow a bit dull again, and she rubs her forehead. “Not magic,” she says. “Learning. I probably do not explain it right.” Her eyes close again, and she curls against my chest. “My head hurts. Will you hold me for a bit longer?”

“Always,” I tell her and cradle her close. My khui throbs in my chest, and for the moment, I am content. Full of questions and wonder, but content.

• • •

“Eat,” I urge my mate, offering her my rations.

Georgie makes a gagging noise and shakes her head. “That stuff burns my tongue. Even now, it’s making my eyes water.”

I peer at her small face, and she’s right; her pale eyes are weeping and glossy. Curious, I sniff the travel rations. They have a slightly spicy taste to them, but it’s meant to be pleasant, not choking. “Humans have weak tongues.”

“Gah!” She gives me an exasperated look. “We do not.”

“Weak tongues, weak eyes, weak bodies,” I murmur, enjoying the look of irritation on Georgie’s face. It’s such a pleasure to be able to speak to her—really speak to her—and to tease her. “Weak in many, many places . . . but a delicious cunt.”

Her face goes bright red, and she bats my arm with her good hand. A hint of a smile curves her mouth. “You are always thinking about sex, aren’t you?”

“It is difficult not to when my mate is so soft and beautiful.” I brush a finger down the curve of her cheek.

She looks sober at my words. “Vektal . . . I’m not your mate.”

“Yes, you are. My khui has chosen you. When you receive a khui
,
it will thrum for mine. Wait and see.”

She shakes her head. “Humans choose their mates. I haven’t chosen anyone. Not that you aren’t nice,” she tells me, giving me another soothing pat to the arm. “And not that I don’t care about you. It’s just that . . . mating should be a mutual decision.”

A mutual decision? Is she mad? Are humans mad? “It is not a decision. The khui chooses. It always knows.”

“But I don’t have a khui.”

“We will remedy this soon enough,” I tell her. “Once we return to my tribe, we will organize a hunt to take down one of the great sa-kohtsk. They carry many khui in them. We shall provide enough for you and your tribeswomen.”

“Vektal,” she says, her face unhappy. “You’re not listening to me. I . . . I don’t even know that I want a khui.”

My heart turns to ice at her words. “You must. It is a death sentence—”

“Only if I stay,” she says softly. “I’m not sure. If there’s a chance I can go home . . .” Georgie drops her gaze and looks away. “I just haven’t decided yet, all right?”

“And where is your home, if it is not here?” My heart starts to pound a slow, unhappy beat. Georgie talks of leaving me as if she does not feel as I do. As if her heart is not torn apart at the very thought of being separated. My khui brought us together, but I am proud to have her as my mate. I want no other. Not now, not ever. It is unthinkable.

She lifts a hand, points at the cave ceiling. “In the sky. A really really long way away from here.”

My eyes narrow at her. I do not understand.

“Like in this
ship
,” she continues. “Your ancestors came here in this thing from another place.”

“This is the cave my ancestors came from,” I agree slowly. “But it does not fly.” I imagine a flying cave, moving through the skies like a bird. The thought is ludicrous.

Georgie makes a frustrated sound. “It’s a
ship
. Do you know what a
ship
is?” When I remain blank, she drums her fingers on her lip, thinking. “It’s a craft that floats through the stars, Vektal. You know I’m not from here, right? I don’t have a khui. So I can’t be.”

I nod because I know this to be true. But the thought of her coming from . . . the stars . . . is strange and bizarre. Unfathomable. But there are things I cannot answer. Her strange language. Her clothing. Her lack of khui. “You . . . wish to go back to the stars?”

Her expression softens into something sad. Her pale eyes gleam for a moment, wet with unshed tears. “I don’t know. I think I hate not having a choice more than anything.”

So it is not me she hates. My khui begins to thrum in my breast again. I press a hand to it. “Then I will go with you.”

Her tears vanish, and she gives a soft chuckle. Then she moves close and squeezes my arm with her good one. She lays her cheek on it and sighs. “I wish that you could.”

I trace my fingers down her soft cheek. Does she not realize? Anywhere she goes, I will gladly follow. She is my heart, my resonance, my soul. My mate. It grieves me she is so miserable here, with me.

“Even if I wanted to stay,” she says softly, “I cannot make that decision for the others. If there’s a chance we can go home, I have to let them decide that for themselves.”

My mate is noble. I grunt my understanding, though the animal side of me wants to drag her back to a hunting cave and keep her there, naked and pink, until it is out of the question.

But then my Georgie might die, because she has no khui. And the other girls will certainly die with no rescue. And all of my tribesmen who have no mates—Dagesh and Raahosh and Haeden and so many others—will never know this pleasure. Like Georgie, I cannot be cruel.

“We must go and rescue your friends,” I tell her. “If we travel swiftly, we will make it to my tribal caves tonight. We can collect the best hunters and return after them in the morning.”

“Let’s do it, then,” she says, determination steeling her voice. “Every moment that passes is another moment I feel guilty.”

“Guilty?” I ask her, cupping her small face up so she can look me in the eye. “Why guilty?” Why does my mate carry such burdens?

Her cheeks pink again. “Because I’m here with you, and I’m warm and happy and fed, and they’re not.”

Ah. My thumb strokes over her full mouth. “And because my cock makes you cry out with such pleasure?”