Starburst

  Starburst

  by

  Imogene Nix

  Starburst

  Copyright © 2016, Imogene Nix

  ISBN: 9781944270483

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: November 2016

  Editor: Pamela Tyner

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  Can Meredith and Chowd survive the politics and war, or will secrets tear them apart?

  Meredith Gentry is a woman with a mission. Her skills are vital in assisting in the defeat of the rogues who seek to annihilate the Federation. Her task, to decode all the files and communications found on the Alpha Star Colony, is made far more difficult by the proximity of the man who makes her yearn for love.

  Chowd knows he’s different. He’s an alien-human hybrid, one of very few. Those differences always kept him apart—except on the Elector. Until now he’s accepted that…mostly.

  When Meredith is sent to work on the Elector, the differences that should keep them apart don’t seem to matter—yet it’s Chowd’s heritage that threatens to destroy the fragile peace between the humans and Ru’Edan.

  With so much on the line, is there truly a way these two lovers can be together? Especially when Chowd’s heritage is exposed.

  Content Warning: Space travel, violence, and evil aliens abound

  Acknowledgements

  Now that this series is done, I need to thank so many people for their input. First and foremost the lovely Pamela Tyner and Sassie Lewis. Without them, this book would still be back on my computer. Also, the wonderful Tara at Fantasia Frog Designs for her work in creating these great covers.

  Next to my husband and daughters. Over the years this series has been the subject of discussion, argument, and laughter. Thank you.

  And no book is complete without readers, so thank you too. It’s only with your ongoing support that I can continue to pen stories. Please visit my website to share your thoughts on the series and to subscribe to my newsletter so you can find out what’s coming next.

  Prologue

  The door burst open, and Chowd watched, wide-eyed, as his mother moved into the room, her graying hair in disarray, her face filled with joy, and her brilliant blue eyes shining.

  “Quickly, son, we don’t have a lot of time. Your half-brother Vi-Hal is dead, and while he’s busy—” Chowd couldn’t mistake the hatred he heard in her voice. “—we have an opportunity to get away. Grab the bag you made ready and follow me.” Her words stumbled over each other.

  His mother vibrated with excitement at their imminent escape, and he felt it wash over him. The bruises on her back and neck once again prompted an acid sickness to crawl up his throat, but he controlled himself and the burst of anger that bloomed at the sight. She cracked open the door, scanning quickly here and there, then with a hard pull they entered the cold, long, and soulless corridor, sliding along the walls that led them to the open shuttle bay.

  Eerie quiet filled the gloom, and his mother pushed him toward the ship he knew how to pilot. The one she had given up much to gain access to. The small, battle-scarred shuttle sat at the far end of the bay, but they had prepared it, stashing food and necessary supplies within. It also hid a secret. He had watched as she used her considerable knowledge to make carefully hidden additions to its original specifications.

  He moved quickly. His sturdy, late-teen frame with extra musculature, part of his human legacy, gave him a burst of speed. His feet tapped on the surface of the bay, the occasional slip and slide of the metallic surface impeding his progress slightly as he heard sounds of pursuit from outside. His heart rate increased with the burst of adrenaline that followed.

  The base on Otega had housed them for the last several cycles, but he hated the lunar-style landscape. He detested the cold silence of the planet’s rocky terrain and the dull dun-colored hills that surrounded the ugly military-type base. He hated everything about the lifestyle here, especially the way his father regularly used the women he collected—human, Ru’Edanian, or any other species he subjugated. Rage clawed at his insides when he considered Crick Sur Banden’s treatment of his mother, who was no more than a convenient punching bag, bed warmer, and possible incubator when his needs arose. Chowd had no recollection of Crick ever treating the females with the respect they deserved.

  Crick had made it clear that he only tolerated Chowd as a lesser son with his impure breeding. Not that Chowd had ever expected any chance of a real familial relationship with the maniac who sired him. It had become worse since the ceasefire with the humans though, as he remained a constant reminder of the potential alliance between humans and the Ru’Edan Senate. Crick despised humans and saw any concept of peace as a weakness in a strong warrior race. Since the followers of Crick Sur Banden and his rogues had been outcasts before banding together, now they followed his lead in every possible way, including their sexual appetites for the women they kept captive.

  “This way.” She tugged him forward, cutting through the rambling thoughts.

  Chowd and his mother reached the shuttle as the klaxon started its strident wail. He pushed onward, making it to the ramp and heading up the bouncing board, praying they could move fast enough to get inside the shuttle before their followers entered the bay.

  The fzzt of a laser whined behind him, and he turned to see his mother standing in front of him. She shielded him from the beam of light—which could cut through flesh and bone— fending off the first of an advancing number of pilots and warriors coming toward them. They’d obviously been alerted by the sudden computer-generated siren that rent the air.

  Laser fire split the air again, once more missing them. He saw his father’s closest men at the entrance to the bay and, beyond, the angry face of Crick Sur Banden himself. The harsh lighting illuminated the gray of his skin and the glint in his eyes.

  “Come on, Mother!” he cried out to her just as a laser blast found its mark. He watched, shocked, to see her eyes glazing with pain as she half-turned her face toward him. He noted the jolt of her body and the seeping red blood that escaped from the point of impact at the center of her chest. Everything moved slowly, as if captured in resin. He heard his voice, harsh with grief, cry out.

  “Go, my son. Go! Take the chance and escape.”

  He hovered anxiously for a second. His mother would die; he could see it as she slumped to the floor, her face a mask of agony. He made his decision in an instant. He had to go; there was no choice. She would die and he had to escape, had to get to his uncle. His mother had given her life to allow him to flee.

  He lurched into the shuttle, slapping his hand on the emergency lockdown button, which also turned on the improved shielding around the pitted and scarred metal. As the ramp rose he shouted commands to the computer, the one his mother had carefully reprogrammed. “Secondary shields online and complete exterior lockdown sequence initiation. Sequence beta-beta-zulu- omega-fiver-niner-gamma.” He breathed heavily as he ran toward the cockpit, yelling to the computer, “Initiate automatic launch sequence and lay in the course gamma-alpha-two.”

  The engines roared to life as he reached the command seat, buckled in, and brought the rear vid-feeds online. His mother lay lifeless on the ground as his father reached her. The rise and fall of her chest had ceased, and pain filled him as reality hit home. His eyes welled with burning tears, which he ignored. Crick’s fo
ot aimed a vicious kick at his mother's body, the contact making it jerk even in death.

  Chowd punched the thrusters. Crick lurched back, but not before the heat seared him. Chowd saw him slump to the floor, jerking in agony, as the body of his mother ignited.

  Pain slashed through him, and he dashed away the tears blurring his vision as he slapped off the feed. He could feel the shuttle begin to ascend before it shot forward, the forces thrusting him back in his seat.

  The radar wailed as other ships set an intercept course, but his mother had taught him well. Her skills as an engineer with the Admiralty had been carefully instilled in her son, together with his knowledge of flight. Chowd brought the radar dampener on line as the ship, which looked old and worn, climbed through the atmosphere at a speed beyond its normal specifications, leaving the craft rocking and groaning under the pressures.

  He closed his eyes, saying a quick, silent prayer for the safety of his mother’s spirit into the afterlife of Re’Ven’Har, the goddess of the Ru’Edan people. His stomach clenched as the ship punched through into space, accelerating as it prepared to jump to hypersonic speed.

  The bleep of the comm signaled, and he opened the link, but he already knew what his father would demand. “Return to base, or I will instruct my fighters to shoot you down like the half-breed dog you are.” His father—so loving in their every interaction, he thought with bitter sarcasm—bit out the words between halting pants.

  Crick’s gasping breath reminded Chowd of his injury, possibly mortal, but he could feel no remorse at the thought that his father could die. Instead, something within him rejoiced at his freedom. But then another part of his psyche reminded him that he’d lost his beloved mother, the only one who had showed him nurturing love.

  He turned off the comm. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of a response.” He hurled the words at Crick Sur Banden, knowing he’d likely never hear them. Crick might be his biological father, but he felt no familial connection. Crick held no importance to Chowd apart from that of enemy.

  Chowd knew what he needed to do. Entering the coordinates into the system and rerouting every possible ounce of power into the drives, just as his mother had taught him, he watched the blip of Otega spin away.

  * * * *

  The pain was excruciating. Crick pushed another Xeradax into his mouth, waiting for the tingle, and the pressure and pain in his burned limbs retreated. “Chowd Sturat Sur Banden is a traitor.” He considered how best to deal with such a dangerous youngling.

  Chowd had reached the edge of human space before they could catch him, and the fury within Crick rose. Chowd and his mother had altered the old shuttle somehow and already the youngling traveled outside the borders of his control. Crick knew the traitor had traveled too far away for him to exact retribution. He cut the thought off as he heard the tapping of feet heading toward the infirmary. He quickly secreted the vial of Xeradax tablets that one of his men had liberated for him from the locked pharma-room.

  “You are doing better, My Lord. Perhaps in a few days we can release you to the care of your concubines, though I am concerned that even with the weaning of drugs, there seems to still be more than you require in your system.” The medi-tech wrung his hands nervously. “There is also a small matter of some drugs missing from the pharma-room. My Lord...do you by any chance...have access...to a source of Xeradax?”

  The medi-tech knows about the Xeradax. He assumed his most menacing pose, and the tech wilted before him. “No.”

  The medi-tech shifted slightly, and Crick wanted to roar. He held onto his composure by the thinnest of threads. I am the leader on this rock, and my will is the only one that’s important.

  “Sir, Xeradax is highly addictive and has a number of side effects, each becoming progressively worse over time.”

  The sniveling tech. If Crick didn’t still need him, he would have the man shot down and his body left outside as carrion to the Vrai. “And you are telling me this...why?” His voice conveyed his disdain, waiting expectantly for him to cross the line into traitorous speech.

  “Ahh, My Lord. Indeed.” The tech backed away, just one step, but it was a sign of weakness, and he smiled. “I just wanted to assure myself that you were aware of any side effects and the reason I am seeking to wean you off them.” The youngster before him had paled and now he wobbled with fear. There wouldn’t be any more lectures. At least for now.

  He would keep this one a little longer, until he personally had no need of him. For now, though, the most pressing duty remained the appointment of his successor. An heir and second who could be trusted must be chosen, since the loss of a son left him with no alternatives. Chowd, the traitorous offspring, needs bringing to heel, or will need to be disposed of.

  He lifted one blistered hand and flicked it, dismissing the shaking medi-tech from his sight, controlling his response to the pain that rocketed through his body with some effort. The older medi-tech would soon begin graft therapy, taking the skin from his most trusted soldiers to repair the damage to his and covering the damaged nerve endings.

  Crick turned his mind from the pain. He needed to plan how to deal with the humans causing him so many problems. Plus, he needed to find a way to deal with the cowardly Senate. Most of all though, the issue of how to make his Ru’Edan warriors fitter and more capable continued to badger him. How could he could swell their ranks? Problems, questions, and conundrums filled his mind.

  The Xeradax kicked in, and he felt the quietness he craved lifting him from the pallet where he lay as the pain disappeared.

  * * * *

  Chowd’s uncle waited in the office beyond the wall. With him waited his second-in-command and another senior commander. Neither had spared Chowd a glance as they entered the office area. Duvall McCord and Grayson Myatt. Chowd already knew their reputations as strong, driven officers, totally committed to the Empire.

  “You’ve got to be joking, sir! He’s...” There was anger and frustration in the words, and while Chowd wanted to wince, he didn’t. Instead, he stood at attention, listening to the raised voices beyond.

  “That’s an order, Commander McCord!”

  Once more he would be subjected to derision from these people who knew his background, but he held fast, even as his muscles tensed, not looking forward to the encounter that lay ahead. He reminded himself gratefully that the slight gray tinge had slowly disappeared from his skin over the last few months. The color of his eyes had changed significantly too since he’d become a test subject for the radical gene therapy his uncle, Fleet Captain Elphin, had suggested might help.

  For many years, his mother had spoken of her younger brother, Gustav, a man set on achieving a larger and more powerful ship since he’d attained his rank of captain. But Chowd hadn’t expected to find that he was a fleet captain. His mother would have been so proud, but she hadn’t lived long enough to experience a reunion with him. He turned his mind from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him, bringing himself back to the now.

  The door slid open quietly, and the voice of his gruff uncle, prematurely aged from his command and the concern over his sister, came from within. “Chowd, could you come through, please?”

  Chowd’s uniform rubbed his skin, and the scent of new material wafted into the air, assaulting his senses, something he now understood came from his Ru’Edan heritage. He stepped into the office, the atmosphere surrounding the two openly hostile men leaving him bristling. He worked to release the bunched muscles. A cold pool settled in his belly.

  “Chowd, meet Duvall and Grayson. Both are commanders that I respect and personally would call friends. They’ve been apprised of the need for you to be stationed aboard the Star of Ishtar with me. Grayson here will be in charge of your training and your day-to-day integration into the crew. I’ve discussed your background and the training you’ve told me you received, with an emphasis on engineering and security.” His forehead creased as he sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

  “Co
mmanders,” he greeted. He refused to hold out his hand, though, until either of them made a move. If they wanted to play power-control games, then let them, he thought sourly.

  “How do we know you aren’t a plant from Crick Sur Banden, given you’re his son, according to the captain.” The blond man, Grayson, his uncle had called him, leaned forward as he spoke.

  Irritation and anger washed over Chowd. “If I was a plant, do you honestly think that I’d be prepared to undertake the gene therapy my uncle suggested? You sure wouldn’t know anyway.” He stopped, taking a deep, cleansing breath before continuing. “I’m here because my mother died giving me the opportunity to get away.” The burn in his belly grew. How in Eshra did they expect him to prove his allegiance to the Empire when no one would let him show what he could do and what he knew? When no one allowed him to show his allegiance?

  He took a step forward as the dark-haired man, Duvall, raised his chin. The silent question flowed between them. Would he try to take Duvall McCord on? He sure wanted to, but his uncle had warned him of the need to accept the pre-determined and imagined offences against him based on his mixed parentage. He let his anger subside to a place at the back of his mind where he could control it.

  He stepped back a pace. “Commander, my mother was the sister of Fleet Captain Elphin. She died getting me onto that shuttle and giving me an opportunity to escape. As the lesser son, I was little more than dirt under Crick Sur Banden’s boots. With the death of Vi-Hal, there was danger that he would choose me as his successor.” He sucked in a deep breath. The next words could make or break his future with the Empire. He weighed them carefully. “I didn’t want that, and I still don’t. Neither did my mother. I’ve given my uncle the information pertaining to the whereabouts of his base on Otega and all the information I have concerning his alliances that I know of. I have shared every piece of information I have, including maps and details of his strengths and weaknesses. I’m happy to share the same information with you. My first loyalty, however, is to my uncle. It always will be.” He stood quietly, waiting for the sneers and condemnation.