Legend Beyond The Stars (13 page)

She glared up at his handsome face. “Don’t you dare make judgement. You can’t pretend your world is any better. So, tell me, who’s the power in your world? It’s obviously not you blokes since Norman tells me you’re in the middle of an ongoing war.”

Her bones chilled as a grim smile lit a feral light in his obsidian eyes. She resisted her inclination to step back from his menacing aura.

“The Supreme Leader declares he holds all power with the assistance of the Elite Forces.” His eyes were depthless pools of darkness as they bored into hers. “Many cycles ago,
the Darkon Warlords were the Guardians of the Seven Galaxies.” He smiled without mirth. “And peace reigned in all the known worlds.”

Alana drew a shuddering breath and muttered, “It couldn’t have been so peaceful considering you’re at war.”

“With power comes greed and envy. Sometimes from within.” Commander Tarak shrugged. “Our way of life was not perfect. There were many aspects I had intended to change once I was sovereign but such a role is no longer my destiny.”

Alana noted the sudden frown knitting his heavy brows together, as if he regretted this admission of weakness on the part of his so called mighty race.

And to a mere alien slave!

He urged her to continue their perambulation around the room and she mulled over his words. There had been such a wealth of desolation in his voice she pondered over how much he must have lost.

How much more he would lose if the war dragged on.

It would have been hard for such a proud man to admit their way of life was not faultless.

A grudging admiration at his ability to voice his people’s failings sidled into her mind with sneaky stealth. Alana compressed her lips.
Bloody hell, now I’m feeling sorry for him too. He’s my enemy not a friend
. “No doubt you intended to declare everyone free and ban slavery,” she said, her chin pointed aggressively high.

The look he gave her almost sent her to her knees. It was rife with primal promise. “Now why would I ban something which gives me such great pleasure?”

Like an outmanoeuvred general on the eve of the next push she marshalled her defences. “But even as slaves I thought you said the Darkons do not force women.”

Ah hah! Take that!

“This is correct.”

“Then we have the freedom to choose whether or not we want a mate or whatever you mean by the term.”

“As Darkon slaves, you have no freedom,” he responded coolly.

Alana savoured her perverse satisfaction at his evaporating good mood. “That is not what you said, earlier,” Alana’s voice rose along with her agitation. Some nearby women glanced at her. She almost swore aloud at the fear she could see crouching on their shoulders. With a conscious effort, she lowered her voice. “If you don’t force us then we have the freedom to say no.”

The Commander bared his white teeth at her, his canines long and sharp. The warning snaked a cold finger along her spine. What was it about this man that made her forget her training and lash out so uncharacteristically? By nature, she was usually calm and unflurried—cold even. Yet here she was acting as if she was a panicked, untried young girl.

“I have to protect these women. I’m all they have,” she admitted after a long moment of silence.

Tarak stopped and drew her hand resting on his arm, to lay across his chest and held it there. Alana’s lonely heart lurched as she gazed into his dark eyes. A strange yellow light, like an electrical surge, flickered in their depths. It was as if she stared into a chasm where a river of hot lava flowed far below. Her thoughts sizzled and vaporised.

“No, not all they have, for now you have us.” He lowered his head, his breath feathered against her skin as he nuzzled her hair. “Now you have me, my Alana.”

Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat.
Damn it. Get a grip
.

She jerked back to evade his presence. His face hardened in response. A coldness entered his features. Despite herself, fear slammed into her. What did she know of these people anyway? Not much, only they were soldiers of some repute, feared throughout their universe. She knew nothing of what they were capable of, nothing of their motives.

Don’t forget they’re aliens
. They may not be capable of emotions. Her back snapped straight.

He drew back and dropped her hand.

“We are not slaves,” she said with heavy emphasis. She bristled as aggressive as a terrier at a rat hole. “And we will not consent to being chattels with no freedom of choice.”

“This is not for you to decide,” Tarak ground out. A muscle ticked beside his clenched jaw. “Look around you, Alana. Already my men are making their choices and leading their slaves to the Analysing Chamber.”

”This is wrong and you know it. There are no slaves where I come from. Everyone is free.”

“Free to die in hunger and disease, it seems. You are now in my world and will do as you are bid,” he snarled.

“Well, don’t expect me to
‘yield’
to you again.”

Commander Tarak folded his arms across his chest. To her dismay, her eyes were drawn to his clearly defined muscles. The memory of the feel of his skin under her fingers drifted into her mind like a traitor’s sly whispers. She could have screamed with exasperation.

“It is a warrior’s duty to persuade his slave to yield to him.” He smirked, his gaze riveted to her face. He sounded so confident Alana was positive he could read her wayward thoughts.

His self assurance irritated her beyond measure. If smoke started to steam from her ears it would not surprise her. The urge to box his was so great she shoved her fists into her pockets to prevent an all-out war.

“Is that what you did last night? Persuade me?” Alana’s voice shook with the force of her feelings.

His hesitation in answering her, the discomfited look which flashed across his face had her heart contracting. She shivered, feeling isolated in the crowded room. So she was right, their encounter was the result of a lack of companionship.

On both their parts, she quickly reminded herself. She stepped backwards, putting more space between them. He reached out to pull her to his side, but Alana dodged his outstretched hand.

A heavy scowl darkened his features.

She ignored his irritation.

“You are forgetting you are my slave and I can do as I will with you,” he said his voice as cold and remote as Antarctica.

“This is a hopeless argument as it’s obvious you are too pig-headed to see anyone else’s point of view. As far as we’re concerned, we have the choice of saying no if we don’t yield. I intend to remind my friends of this fact, constantly. So if you don’t mind I’m off to supervise this so-called analysing as I don’t trust you any further than I can throw you.”

Alana swung about and stomped her way to the exit. She could hear his measured tread as he followed in her wake, his deep voice muttering something like,
‘what is this pig head?’
.

Her anger faded, and a wistful smile tugged her lips.
If only …
she sighed.

Chapter Seven

When Alana entered the Analysing Chamber after she swallowed her pride and asked the Commander for directions, she found many of the other women already inside. Her disappointment when Tarak chose not to accompany her confused her no end. Rather he very formally took his leave and marched off, no doubt to oversee his battleship. The delightful fantasy Alana had indulged in while hurrying to keep up with his long strides, where he declared a never-ending passion for her, dissipated like smoke in the wind at the sight of his receding back.

She snorted.
Hah!
Fairy tales were not for her. Resolutely she turned her attention back to her responsibilities. She muttered a brief heartfelt thanks to the heavens when she saw the room was devoid of any warriors bar one, an older man with greying black hair tied back into a single braid and dressed in a white flight suit. He was busy waving a small instrument over a woman and intently studying the data which was constantly changing on the holo display surrounding both of them. The instrument appeared similar to the one Norman had brandished at Alana earlier.

Fascinated, Alana strolled around the images of what appeared to be an intriguing mix of hieroglyphics, runes and some form of mathematical equations. She reached out a hand and moved it to and fro. The data rippled over her hand like waves over a rocky shore.

“You find this interesting, yes?” queried the medic in a pleasant voice.

She glanced over to find the warrior regarding her with similar curiosity.

“Very interesting.” Alana smiled at him, liking this warrior with the sad eyes of someone who had experienced his fair share of hurt. He was tall, with stooped shoulders and thin with the patient considerate manner of a good physician.

“This instrument analyses any disease, illness, any weaknesses and correlates a report which you see here in the hologram,” he said as he turned his attention to the woman standing at his side. With deliberate care he continued his measured sweep over her body.

“It’s truly amazing,” Alana admitted.

“So how I’m doing Doctor Char?” asked the woman, a faint anxiety tinging her tones, her natural courtesy giving the medic the respect she would normally give physicians in her home town.

The familiar title caused a quickly stifled pang of homesickness inside Alana.

“Mmmm.” The medic interpreted the information before him. He turned and directed a sweet smile at both of them. “You appear to be perfectly healthy.”

“Oooh, fantastic. Thanks.” The woman gave a brilliant smile, proffered her hand and shook the medic’s when he gingerly offered his, and calling out a greeting to a friend, she sauntered off.

The bemused medic stared at his hand, muttered
‘how peculiar’
and asked Alana if she wished to be examined next.

She shrugged. “I guess so. This looks like a great invention but how do you compensate for diseases or illnesses which are completely foreign to your world? I mean, an
illness which is prevalent on our planet may not exist on yours, so how would you be able to detect it?”

“All good questions.” He beamed at her and waggled a finger in the air. “The shayote has been programmed to detect anything unusual. The data is stored in the Ark. Behold, how it streams upwards.”

Alana tilted her head. From just above her, a light beamed. She could have sworn she could see the fabric of the ship pulsing rhythmically at the point of emergence.

“When necessary, the information is investigated further in the research stations on Darkos,” the medic continued. “Now remain as still as possible. This should only take a few sectons.”

Obeying his orders to the letter, Alana held her arms loosely at her sides and waited. She was so focussed on the display of data, she failed to realise Norman and Jessamine had joined her until her ears were assaulted with Jessamine’s cheerful voice.

“At least we don’t have to strip in front of this guy.”

A look of horror blanched the medic’s face. “No, no, this is not necessary.”

Jessamine chuckled.

“Why do you let this Darkon perform such work, Alana? I wished to do this examination earlier and you refused me,” Norman whined. He glared at the hapless medic whose cheeks turned the colour of terracotta mud.

Obviously this alien was not one who relished confrontation and was well suited in his present role.

”That’s because I need you elsewhere,” Alana said and when the Jurian pursed his mouth with skepticism, she added, “We will require a copy of all the information gathered on the women. Norman, I am charging you with ensuring this is carried out. Any problems are to be flagged by you and brought to both myself and Jess. The three of us will then review the matter together.”

A smug expression settled over Norman’s flat features. “This I can do, Alana.”

“It is complete. No abnormalities,” the medic said in relief, waving her away and gesturing to the next woman.

Jessamine linked arms with her friend. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ve already been analysed. Come on, there’s somethin’ we need to discuss. It’s important.”

Alana repressed a sigh. She had learnt by now the things Jessamine thought were important could be as simple as a question regarding hair or as devastating as a possible nuclear strike.

“Well?” Alana smoothed a wrinkle from her pants.

She was glad to see Norman was happily occupied with questioning the Darkon medic while he undertook the next examination. With a small black box clutched in one hand, the Jurian was gesticulating madly with the other. The medic had the look of a cornered rabbit on his face. Alana smiled at the sight.

“He is kinda cute,” agreed Jessamine.

Alana allowed herself to be led in the opposite direction. Her curiosity pricked its ears when she intercepted Jessamine’s apprehensive expression.

Her friend blurted out her question in a rush. “Here now, Alana, would you think I was terribly wicked if I chose two warriors?”

Alana laughed then sobered quickly when she noticed the wounded look in Jessamine’s eyes. “Sorry Jess. You took me by surprise. At first I didn’t realise you were serious.”

“So you think it’s a joke?” A scowl furrowed Jessamine’s smooth brow. She looped a thick bunch of her sable brown hair and coiled it over and over her fingers in agitation.

“It’s okay,” Alana said. She reached out and clasped Jessamine’s hand, stilling the restless fidgeting. “Although I thought we’d decided we were going with the
‘no’
response.”

The other woman shrugged, then grinned. “Given what’s on offer, how could I refuse?” Her brows furrowed and perplexity settled over her pretty face. “You sure, you won’t think any less of me? Be honest, now.”

Alana met the other woman’s eyes. “I’ll always be honest with you, Jess. And you will always have my respect.”

Jessamine’s smile returned. Excitement flushed her cheeks with colour. “I just don’t get it. It’s like this weird kinda connection pullin’ me towards them.”

Alana shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked on her feet. She glared at the wall and wondered. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”