Stowaway Read online

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  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Elliot Cooper

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-999-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Bet and Marie, who share my love of campy romance and have always given me their endless support.

  STOWAWAY

  Planet Alpha ™

  Elliot Cooper

  Copyright © 2016

  Chapter One

  The lone spaceship descended through the evening sky, landing somewhere beyond the crumbling shell of the old barn. Thalia's heart leapt into her throat. She knew this was her only chance to escape Tark and his power-hungry insanity.

  Playing the good little human, the willing slave, had kept her from losing her grip on reality. It was just a part in a terrible play. Like the ones "King" Tark made his "subjects" perform for his entertainment.

  Without waiting for the battle sounds she knew were coming, she snatched her bag off her mattress and tossed it over her shoulder. She threw on the dark cloak she'd secretly knit from repurposed strips of threadbare clothes and rags, making sure the fabric covered her bag, then headed for the window.

  There would be no time for goodbyes to her few friends. It would be better if they didn't know where she'd gone or why. Thalia couldn't worry about the implications. If she kept worrying about the other people under Tark's rule, she'd be stuck as one of his favorite playthings until he grew tired of her.

  Bryn would be able to guess, of course. The two of them used to spend so much time daydreaming about escape routes. Planning. Hoping. And Bryn knew Thalia's favorite fantasy involved godly golden aliens, the exact counter to the demonic Tark, coming to sweep her off to another world. She'd seen them twice since Tark had murdered her father and brother, and those glimpses had only added to her infatuation with Tark's mortal enemies.

  Any enemy of the Xyrans was a friend in Thalia's eyes.

  But Tark and his little collection of Xyran underlings had always dispatched of the golden Alphans before her dream could come true. They'd turn on their stolen Alphan emergency beacon, set their trap, then wait impatiently for the battle to come to them.

  She opened the window and peered out to look for watchful eyes from the smaller buildings beyond the farm's large main house. Seeing no one, she hurried back to the stained, half-flat mattress and dragged it to the large window.

  Guttural roars cut through the rapidly darkening expanse of Tark's domain. Thalia's head jerked up from her work lifting the mattress to the windowsill, but the fight was happening in the distance, out of her line of sight. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, but she kept working, shoving, lifting, and grunting until the mattress shifted out of her window and hit the grass below with a loud thump. She grabbed her pillow next and pulled from inside it the long, knotted rope she'd made.

  As soon as the rope was secured to the locked doorknob of her room, she tossed the rest of the coil over the sill and looked out into the early evening darkness again. No signs of movement or light near the house. More shouts from somewhere behind the sagging, weathered body of the barn.

  Thalia peered down the three stories to the ground and her heart hammered to a livelier tune. The rope didn't reach the ground, which meant she'd have to hope the mattress would break her fall enough to not injure her severely. If she couldn't walk, she'd be dead as soon as they found her. If she didn't die of starvation or thirst first.

  She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then took a deep, calming breath. With fresh, shaky resolve, she gripped the rope and slung a leg over the windowsill. Carefully, she eased herself down. Her arms began to shake with the effort, but she pressed onward. She had to.

  Thalia didn't have enough strength to climb back up to her room in the attic. Tark had made sure she received plenty of food to maintain her compliance, which had helped give her curves she loved—a beautiful, feminine shape that her meager upbringing couldn't afford. Exercise, however, wasn't encouraged. His human female pets weren't warriors like his mighty people, after all.

  Laser fire sounded. More great roars. Metallic clanging.

  A dull, grating slide sounded beside Thalia. She let out a startled gasp.

  Bryn's pale, wide-eyed face peeked out of the open window, her long brown hair hanging down. "What are you doing?!"

  "I'm done dreaming!" Thalia said, her voice hushed but strained as she clung to the rope.

  "Aren't you happy here? We're not treated so badly…" Bryn looked out over the open grounds toward the source of the battle sounds.

  "He killed my family for trying to protect me. He twists everything we say and do to his advantage. He wants you to feel that way, Bryn. He wants you to be his content little pet." Thalia paused, adjusted her grip on the rope. When Bryn didn't counter her, she carried on. "And it's fine if you want to be. But I don't feel that way. I never will. I don't want him. I don't want this life."

  She didn't bother mentioning how much worse Tark's men treated their hand-me-down pets, the ones they bred for more workers. They were bloodthirsty demons in the extreme, not saving their sadistic tendencies for their enemies unless their "king" invited them to share one of his favorite pets. She was grateful, not for the first time, that Tark found the idea of half-human offspring repugnant. Her carefully separated personas might not have survived intact if she'd been forced to bear his children. Or those of his men.

  "You weren't going to say goodbye." Bryn's voice was thick with emotion, but she glanced off into the distance, well beyond the dim light emanating from her room, then nodded. "Go. Chase your Alphans."

  "Take care of yourself," Thalia said as she focused again on working her way down the makeshift rope.

  The window slid shut above her, but Thalia kept looking downward until her ankles ran out of rope to cling to. She hung there for a moment, arms quaking, then took a deep breath and let go.

  Her stomach lurched in frightened somersaults as gravity took hold. She landed awkwardly on her side with a pained grunt, having shifted in the air to keep from falling on her bag and shattering the precious contents wrapped tightly inside her blanket and change of clothes. Sitting up on the mattress, she rubbed at her shoulder and hip, knowing both would bruise, but feeling fit enough to run through the night.

  She lifted her hood over her thick, black curls and darted around the worker slaves' quarters, the grass cool against her bare feet. After a brief pause to make sure she wasn't being watched, she moved toward the silo. Its silvery skin, half rusted and smeared with long dried blood, was an omen to slaves who dared to misbehave. No human who'd entered had ever returned. A small, fearful part of her conditioned for self-preservation told her to run the other way, to head for the woods beyond the old paved road. But she didn't have enough food stored in her bag for a long trek, and the Xyrans, especially Tark, would scent her out and follow her trail all too easily. She had to get away from the irreparably broken Earth. Away from a life with no future.

  She ignored the silo's grisly exterior as she neared it and skirted around the looming structure, using it as a temporary shield to hide behind while she assessed the scene beyond the nearby barn. The shouting had died down, but there were still odd grunts, the sounds of intense struggle and pain.
She couldn't see any movement from her vantage point, which meant the fighting must have been taking place inside the barn or on its far side.

  Light spilled out of the front of the barn, but the huge field behind it remained dark. A hulking shape stood out, reflected in the faint light of the crescent moon. The Alphan ship!

  Thalia ran toward it.

  ****

  Vall slammed the Xyran into the barn's weakened wall for a third time and growled as the wood splintered and gave way. He landed on top of his enemy, purple blood from the Xyran's ugly face smeared on his arms. Their weapons had been lost in the ensuing scuffle, kicked away and forgotten as they embraced one another in true battle, a true test of strength. He had the advantage on height over the Xyran, being tall for his species, but the Xyran was wild and far stronger than he looked.

  "Where is the beacon?" Vall demanded one more time. He and his bondmate had been sent to track down their warrior brethren who'd gone missing. Three separate groups had gone chasing a mysterious signal for aid in a remote area of Earth's northern hemisphere. It hadn't been much of a shock to find a pack of Xyrans at the root of the disappearances, but it hurt to have his worst fears confirmed.

  The Xyran laughed and grinned, squirming under the Alphan's weight, his bright red skin flickering orange for a split second. "Finders keepers."

  Glyn grunted behind him, still struggling with the other remaining Xyran. "Tell us now and I'll spare your kin!"

  "If he can't survive a runt like you, he deserves to die." The Xyran under Vall stared up at him with bottomless black eyes. "The same to you if you can't survive a runt like me."

  Vall narrowed his eyes and braced for a fresh struggle, but when the Xyran remained still for a long moment, he slightly relaxed his hold.

  The Xyran flexed his body lightning fast, twisted around the Alphan, and pulled Vall's arm behind his back while his free hand went to Vall's throat.

  A wet thwack rent the air, and Glyn let out a mighty roar. Vall couldn't see what was going on from his supine position half on top the Xyran, his body tangled with his enemy's in a way that made his blood boil with disgust, but he knew Glyn had ended his opponent.

  "Stay back! I'll rip his throat out!" The last Xyran's spittle flecked onto the side of Vall's neck. His grip tightened, thick red fingers digging into Alphan flesh.

  Vall flexed his neck muscles, but the pain and the pressure were too strong to fight against directly. No visual confirmation was needed to know Glyn wouldn't sacrifice him to make a kill, which put them at an uncomfortable impasse.

  "Let him go," Glyn growled and clanged his quad-blades together.

  "I want assurance of my life," the Xyran countered.

  "We want the destruction of your stolen beacon." Glyn clanged his axes again.

  Vall knew his bondmate was irritated at not being allowed to act on his battle instinct to rend the Xyran's limbs from his body.

  The Xyran thought for a moment, flexing his fingers against Vall's throat until the Alphan let out an involuntary choking sound. "I'll tell you where the beacon is and you will destroy it. When I release your bondmate, you will both leave this place, never to return."

  "Deal," Glyn said without bothering to haggle.

  Vall groaned internally, his face screwing up in discomfort as the Xyran lessened the grip on his throat.

  "The loft, up above, under a blanket." The Xyran kept his body taut, limbs tight against Vall's larger frame.

  "Hurry," Vall muttered. He couldn't take much more of this humiliation now that the agreement had been struck. It wasn't the deal he would have tried to make, but then he knew Glyn's emotions for his bondmates ran hot when a threat was involved. He'd become more openly affectionate since they'd claimed their beloved Summer. Vall didn't mind at all when they were at home or on their ship. When it came to battle, however, he needed Glyn to be able to think and act clearly no matter the danger.

  Vall listened to Glyn lumbering about, unwilling to crane his captured neck for a better look. The Xyran wouldn't need a real reason to go back on their agreement if he thought he had the advantage. They were a race of honorless scum, and he wanted to destroy the one beneath him the same as he'd destroyed two of the Xyran's pitiful companions.

  The Xyran's head twitched at the sound of the beacon being smashed over and over again. Glyn grunted with the effort, then noisily clambered back down to the main floor of the structure.

  "Release him and be on your way," Glyn commanded.

  Surprisingly, Vall felt his opponent's muscles ease. The Xyran flung him sideways into a roll along the hard, dirty floor, then darted off into the night, likely towards the main dwelling.

  "I want to kill him, but I'll stand by my word," Glyn groused and offered a hand down to his bondmate.

  Vall clapped his hand to Glyn's and pulled himself to his feet, happy to see relief wash over his bondmate's face.

  "Our mission is accomplished. Let's go before he tries to break his end of the deal," Vall said.

  The pair of them ran to the rear of the barn and shoved the doors open. Going around the front, as they had when they'd landed and begun to inspect the area, would waste too much time and potentially play into a second ambush. Vall had had enough for one trip. They'd shed blood, destroyed the beacon, and now it was time to head home to report their findings and reunite with their beloved Summer.

  A frown settled on his face when he noticed the hatch on their ship was partially opened. They'd had trouble with the mechanism after a poor liftoff following their last battle. Glyn's arm had been wounded, and Vall had suffered a head injury that caused him double vision for a short while. It had been through force of will alone they'd managed to make it safely into open space.

  "The hatch repair must be our priority before we set out on our next mission," he said as they opened the hatch properly, made their way inside, and ensured it was completely closed again.

  "The gap was too small for a Xyran to fit through, at least." Glyn sighed and made for the cockpit. "Too bad we can't harvest the gems from those Xyrans. No sparkling prizes for Summer. Do you think she'll be disappointed?"

  "She'd be more disappointed if you returned home alone." Vall shook his head, then rubbed at his aching throat. His bondmate meant well, but he often sounded as if he were still a young man being trained in the art of war. "Go, get us out of here. I need to wash that Xyran's stink off."

  ****

  When Thalia woke inside the smaller craft within the Alphan ship, she kept herself compressed into a tight ball for a few moments. She had no idea how long she'd been asleep, or whether or not the Alphans had even made it out of the barn alive. A cold fear shot through her at the thought of Tark having been successful again. But the battle had gone on far longer than usual. That had to be a good sign.

  There was only one way to find out if the Alphans had been victorious, but she wasn't ready to abandon her hiding place and brave the ship's interior. The room around the little passenger craft was darker now than it had been when she'd stowed away on the ship. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

  She listened for a while, shifting to make herself more comfortable. There was no fighting her restlessness, though, and she finally slipped out of the little craft. The ship was quiet beyond the little docking bay, so she moved as slowly and silently as possible back to the hallway leading to the ship's hatch and other rooms.

  Light emanated from an open doorway at the end of the hall. Thalia heard a deep, rumbling growl from the dark doorway to her left and froze. Her heart pounded, and she held her breath, ears alert for any sudden changes in the volume of the noise.

  Tark had been a font of knowledge about the Alphans, but his views had been tainted by his species' long running hatred of the other aliens. Hadn't they? The Alphans couldn't really be devils, arbitrarily destroying Xyran settlements simply because they couldn't fight their urge to kill. That sounded far more like the Xyrans themselves. Maybe not Tark, to a degree, but she'd been bitten roughly and
bruised by him enough times to know he craved causing others pain.

  Another sharp growl made Thalia jump back a step, a hand clamped to her mouth to keep from making a sound. She let her breath out, slow and steady, then took another, attempting to calm her nerves.

  The growl rose again, punctuated by a stuttering snort and a hum.

  Thalia blinked, then smiled behind her hands, catching herself before she broke out in a laugh at her baseless fear. It wasn't a growl at all. It was one of the Alphans snoring.

  Or she hoped it was one of the Alphans. The realization one of Tark's men could have taken a look inside the ship and fallen asleep made her smile fade.

  She peered into the open doorway, but she couldn't make out what sort of humanoid slept in the large bed at the center of the darkened room. He looked larger than Tark, but that didn't mean much.

  Feeling brave and half convinced the Xyrans wouldn't sleep on their enemy's ship—wouldn't they rather loot it, then destroy it?—Thalia crept beyond the bedroom toward the end of the hall. She hid around the corner of the doorway to the lit room, then cautiously bent around it to look inside.

  A head of long, black hair. The pointed tips of dark horns. A deep, golden shoulder and sculpted bicep to match. The cheerful hum of a tune she didn't recognize. An Alphan!

  The stories she'd coaxed out of Tark came back to her in a rush. Alphan warriors took human women to their planet, Alpha, and made them their mates. Not slaves, not fragile little pets, but actual loving partners. Tark hadn't described it that way, of course, but Thalia could read between his fork-tongued lies and crooked Xyran thinking. She'd waited for so long, hoped one day she'd be saved by handsome, loving Alphans who would treat her like a person, not a thing.

  But she'd stowed away on their ship. Would they be angry if they discovered her? She cringed at the thought of angering her unwitting saviors. Would they understand she'd had to take her liberation into her own hands? Their culture was foreign to her, outside of the skewed snippets she'd gleaned from Tark. Maybe he understood their nature better than she wanted to believe.