The Starfarer Read online

  THE STARFARER

  THE ARALOKA CHRONICLES

  Advanced Reader Copy

  Version 1.0

  PETRA LANDON

  Copyright © 2018 Petra Landon

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Advanced Reader Copy - Version 1.0

  This copy has been provided to Sheena [[email protected]]

  www.petralandon.com/The-Starfarer

  For my Star Captain who makes it easy to dream of love stories.

  And Kefalonia,

  for a magical few weeks that inspired me to continue the story.

  THE ARALOKA CHRONICLES

  In a distant corner of the galaxy, a war for territory and domination of space rages, fought by two equally matched factions – the Kampuchan Alliance and the Budh-Ketaari Empire. These are the stories from Sector Araloka and the Aralokans’ struggle to survive against the backdrop of a never-ending war.

  The stories are all standalone but the reader may enjoy them more if read in order

  www.petralandon.com/The-Araloka-Chronicles

  GLOSSARY

  A glossary of Aralokan races and warring factions is available at the end.

  THE MERCENARY

  Book 1

  THE STARFARER

  On a rustic agrarian world, Sila hides a dangerous secret. After centuries of absence, a legendary race of starfarers returns to their old stomping grounds. When an accident causes Sila’s world to intersect/collide with that of an Ur’quay warrior on a desperate mission to Sector Araloka, she finds herself exiled from her home and everything familiar, except for an unlikely protector/guardian. As the warrior and his accidental captive learn about each other, they forge a unique bond with repercussions for the war, the sector and the Ur’quay. Plunged into the politics of war, Sila’s ability, Ur’quay tradition and a complicated legacy test their faith in each other and their new allies. But as the stakes get higher, can an Ur’quay warrior choose to follow his heart or will history repeat itself all over again …

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ONE

  Help me, O Goddess.

  O Goddess. O Goddess!

  Please, O Goddess.

  The panic-stricken cries of a distinctly feminine voice reverberated in the confines of his mind, seeping through the mental barriers he’d spent a lifetime perfecting. His eyes snapped open, his body transitioning abruptly from deep slumber to sharp alertness — an invaluable ability for a warrior whose profession demanded battle-readiness at all times. He lay still in the darkness, his head resonating with the echoes of the desperate cries. But try as he might, he could no longer hear the unfamiliar voice. In the dark rest-chamber, everything lay silent around him — no exotic intonations reverberated in his mind. He sat up slowly, switching to his night eyes to guide him in the dark. Could it have been a dream, he mused? Every instinct in him screamed that the voice had been very real. The cries had been unfamiliar, feminine and in Alliance Standard. Despite his lack of vocabulary in the language, he could comprehend the tenor of her thoughts — she invoked her deity hysterically in blind terror. It seemed unlikely that his mind could conjure up such an improbable and exotic dream. He had never possessed a fertile imagination. There had to be a simpler and more likely explanation. Perhaps, his mental shields had relaxed a little in slumber, allowing the voice to seep into his well-guarded mind.

  Deliberately, he lowered a few of his formidable mental barriers, silently willing the voice to call out again. There was no danger in relaxing the shields — his shipmates would never infringe on his thoughts. But lowering the barriers was all he could do. Sending out any mind-feelers to seek the feminine voice was out of the question. His people had stringent laws against mind-breaches of any kind, both intentional and inadvertent. Ur’quay law deemed any invasion of the mind a crime punishable by death. Every child on Ur’Qia was taught to safeguard his mind from an early age and to never attempt to breach privacy through thoughts.

  Abandoning further attempts at slumber, he sprang up from the bed to pad to his desk. Much as his body needed the rest, his mind was restless, insistent on solving the puzzle that preoccupied it. His arm-band, embedded with his communication device, lay on the desk where he had tossed it before disrobing for bed.

  He reached for it to ping the Command Chamber — the nerve center of this starship.

  “First Commander” Sub-Commander Sh’stral’s voice responded alertly.

  “Are we flying through Alliance territory, Sub-Commander?” he inquired.

  “Not one protected by their security net, First Commander” Sh’stral answered promptly, with just a hint of query in his voice.

  To their astonishment, the Ur’quay had discovered that not all of Alliance territory was enclosed within a security net to guard against enemy incursions. Their months long clandestine survey of Alliance-claimed space was the only reason he could translate a few words from the terror-stricken wails permeating his mind. The Ur’quay, not of this corner of the galaxy, were unfamiliar with the languages of Sector Araloka.

  “Have we taken on any prisoners recently?” he queried the Sub-Commander. It was unlikely, but he had no other explanation for those frantic calls to her deity.

  “Yes, First Commander. We picked up traces of shtoal on a planet we passed through a half hour ago. The pod sent to pick up samples returned with a tiny female. The autoport beam scooped her up with the shtoal.”

  Success, he mused with satisfaction tinged with puzzlement. This might explain the mysterious cries in his mind, but not how she had breached his mental shields.

  “Where is the prisoner now?” he asked.

  “In the holding cells, First Commander. I would have brought it to your attention at the next duty rotation.”

  “That is correct procedure, Sub-Commander” he acknowledged to his junior officer. “However, I am awake now and will speak to the prisoner.”

  “She is in Cell One, First Commander.”

  “Acknowledged” he signed off.

  An acute sense of urgency assailed him. The voice in his head had been terrified. He donned his armor with practiced haste to stride out towards the holding cells. The warriors aboard the starship slept in partial armor, their life onboard driven primarily by their duty rotations — accustomed to taking short naps in the intervals between shifts. The Ur’quay on the ship had been forced to acclimatize to their circumstances as they wandered unstable corners of the galaxy, far from home, in search of scarce resources for their people.

  As he approached the narrow corridor that led to the cells, her voice slammed into his head again.

  O Goddess, I pray to you. Please spare me.

  I promise to never again shirk my gathering duties!

  He barely understood her thoughts, but her desperation and terror came through. Despite his ru
dimentary command of Alliance Standard, her emotions swamped him through the connection of their minds. To comprehend her words, he’d need a translator. And no ordinary translator would do. He would need an implant to mind-read the cries echoing in his head. His ship did carry such implants for emergencies, just like it had translators to allow the Ur’quay to communicate, if warranted, with alien species they were likely to encounter as they travelled an unfamiliar slice of space. But it would take time and a medic to embed the implant in him. He’d also have to answer awkward questions about his sudden and inexplicable request for one. That he could handle should he need to. It was something else that beckoned him to urgency — a sense of running out of time. It was imperative he get her to stop projecting her thoughts before she ran afoul of Ur’quay law.

  Females had become progressively rarer on his world, as birth rates declined steadily. He wondered how no one had thought to protect this one by teaching her to shield her mind from others of their kind. Ur’quay were born with the ability to mind-read most species. Only those highly trained to erect mental barriers could prevent an Ur’quay mind-scan. To him, it was obvious that she shared this ability with his people. If that was the case, the laws of his people would apply to her on this starship. She would be put to death for inadvertent invasion of privacy.

  O Goddess, hear my prayer!

  I promise you that I’ll even listen to the advice Peruthan gives me next time.

  She sat unguarded in a corner of the dim holding cell, hunched over defensively in the near darkness. As he punched in the code to disable the energy shield that protected the cell, she glanced up warily. Her alarm, already dangerously close to hysteria, seemed to ratchet up at his presence — her emotions washed over him in a deluge of apprehension and horror.

  The cell’s overhead lights switched on automatically, as the shield came down. In the harsh light, her diminutive figure appeared vulnerable and defenseless, more so than her huddled silhouette had in the near darkness. He could feel her fear escalate, despite her attempts to pull herself together. Yet, she rose to her feet to face him determinedly, her back to the wall and her posture defiant.

  He hesitated outside the cell, not wanting to intimidate her. Her eyes widened as she caught her first glimpse of him, the jewel-bright depths flaring as she took note of the Ur’quay male.

  He’s huge!

  And so strange — not like anyone ... so different. What species?

  This he understood, more than some of her other cries. Inordinately pleased by the small flicker of curiosity, he took advantage of it. Stepping into the cell carefully, he attempted to appear as non-threatening as he could. But despite his efforts, her curiosity was soon wiped away, vanquished by despair and fear.

  How will I ever get away from them?

  Help me, O Goddess. Please … help me!

  He paused at the entrance to dredge through his limited Alliance Standard for some words to reassure her. His presence in full battle armor had unnerved her, he surmised. That had not been his intention. In an attempt to soften the image, he directed a small smile at her — a subtle quirk of his lips. Only to inadvertently flash his sharp canines. Meant to reassure her, his gesture seemed to instead open the dam to her worst fears. A palpable escalation of her terror enveloped him.

  He’s going to eat me. O Goddess!

  Oh please, please O Goddess, don’t let me be food. Please, I pray to you. Oh please!

  This time, she could not control her emotions. A gasp escaped her to echo in the cell — a helpless whimper that she attempted to stifle by pressing a small fist to her mouth. Eyes closed, she slumped against the wall, as if to shut out the vision of the large creature poised at the entrance to her cell.

  Stupefied, he went utterly still — immobilized by horror and a feeling akin to insult at this impugning of his intentions. He had caught the word eat to arrive at the right conclusion. His species did not feed on sentient beings, he fumed silently. Did this strange female consider the Ur’quay to be barbarians?

  “No eat” he growled out vehemently in Alliance Standard, his finger pointed at her. All thought of attempting to cut a non-threatening figure had vanished in his ire at her unmistakable insult to his species.

  “No eat” he repeated again, his finger stabbing angrily in the air to gesture at her.

  The furious words, gutturally growled, echoed in the cell. After a long moment, she opened her eyes, slowly and with infinite care, to tilt her head warily and meet his incensed gaze for the first time. There was a pregnant pause as they stared at each other. He was the first to break it, turning on his heels to stride away from the cell. Grimly determined to disabuse her of her false imputations, he made for the cubbyhole in the holding area that stored translation devices. He knew they could translate Alliance Standard — it was one of the few Aralokan languages Ur’quay devices had been programmed to handle in the last few months of traveling clandestinely through their space.

  She watched him walk away, confused and surprised by his action. Only for her earlier wariness to return in force when he strode back in. This time, he did not remain at the edge of the cell. Her bright eyes followed his progress, holding back her terrified gasp with sheer will-power.

  When he stopped a few feet away from her, her very breaths seemed to suspend as she awaited his next move. Holding out his arm to her, careful to keep his distance, he extended his palm, unfurling his fingers to show her the tiny device it held. With his other hand, he gestured at her to take the device. The Ur’quay stayed silent for the simple reason that he didn’t know the words in Alliance Standard for either translation or communication.

  Her eyes took in the big palm extended to her and the strange webbing between the long tapering fingers, before she glanced up at him uncertainly. It was clear that she did not understand him, but a little of her fear seemed to melt away at his unthreatening gesture. He took note of the pronounced air of puzzlement about her now, though her fist still pressed up against her mouth.

  He pointed at the translation-cum-communication device embedded in the arm-band that encircled his right bicep over his armor, willing her to understand. She remained immobile, her wary gaze alternating uncomprehendingly between his face and his palm.

  With a little growl of impatience, he reached for her. She shrank back until she was tucked up against the wall behind her with nowhere to go. He felt a pang — she had no reason to not fear him. At least a foot and a half taller than her, his physical appearance was as different from her as could be. Attired in a shapeless, all-covering work-suit cinched in at the waist, her fiery red hair was pulled off her face, tied back with a scrap of cloth, to fall to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a jewel-bright green, the irises encased in white, with dark round pupils at the center — a stark contrast to his. Even the pale skin of her face, dotted with a smattering of darker spots, was a far cry from his darker bronze skin with the pale stripes that covered him all over.

  He stopped at touching distance to her, reaching out slowly to attach the translator to her right shoulder over the work-suit. Closing her eyes, she flinched away from him, her cries stifled by the fist over her mouth. But as she felt his gentle touch on her shoulder, she opened her eyes cautiously, her curious gaze drawn to the device. Tapping it lightly, he stepped back. Pointing at the device clipped to her shoulder, he drew her attention to the arm-band on his bicep, his eyes on her.

  “Translation device” he explained.

  For a moment, she looked confused and uncomprehending. His voice, with its guttural undertones, sounded strange to her, especially with her mind clouded by fear. He repeated it again, slowly and deliberately, and suddenly, her bright eyes blinked, glancing up at him with a glint of understanding permeating them. His eyes — a throwback to his reptilian forebearers, like much of the Ur’quay’s physical characteristics, with the gold-colored iris that covered the surface punctured by an elliptical-shaped vertical stripe of black that served as the pupil — raked her. Gathering
her courage, she gave him an almost imperceptible nod to signal that she understood him.

  He rushed into speech, without giving her an opportunity to say anything.

  “You are not food” he spit out the words precisely, unable to mask his fury. “We do not eat your kind. Do you understand?” The guttural tones were colored by emotion she could not miss.

  She nodded mutely, this time with more confidence, her eyes on him. Finally, her fist fell away from her mouth. She seemed to understand that he meant her no harm. Yet, her bright expressive eyes clouded with confusion — she had taken note of his inexplicable displeasure. That he was responding to thoughts she had never voiced aloud escaped her. To her, the very idea was preposterous. And, she had bigger fears to conquer at the moment.

  “Do you understand?” he growled again, impatient now.

  My Goddess, so impatient.

  “I understand” she answered in a soft voice.

  His eyes narrowed at her answer, though it was her thoughts he was responding to. Silence descended in the cell as captor and captive studied the other.

  “First Commander Zh’hir Mu’raat” he announced abruptly, pointing at himself.

  She remained silent, despite his introduction, though she continued to stare up at him.

  “What are you called, female?” he asked, at her continued silence.

  “Sila Gatherer” she stammered, her hands reaching for the wall behind her to hold her up.

  “Sseela” he drawled out in the guttural voice, hissing out the s, his head cocking as if he didn’t know what to make of her.

  She gave him a short tilt of her head, her green eyes wary.

  His eyes wandered over her, cataloguing her appearance and attempting to match it to the reports he had been provided before the mission. Only to come up empty. His ancestors had never met hers, for if they had, they would have kept a record of it. They were starfarers — a race of explorers and warriors. And once, a long time ago, his ancestors had fulfilled their destiny by wandering the stars and fostering legends about Ur’quay prowess in far-flung corners of the galaxy. Including Sector Araloka.