Into the Dark (Dark Universe Book 1) Page 2

  He grunted. Tricking a couple of Devikians was one thing, but to impress this lady he was really going to have to up his game. He nodded and clenched his teeth. He was up for the challenge!

  Chapter 3

  Aden was barely through the air lock door before Amber tapped the button to cycle the air lock. He cried out as the door slid shut, narrowly missing his feet, and the artificial gravity in the air lock cycled on. Gravity slammed him to the metal deck and forced the air from his chest.

  With the air pressure already stabilized, the air lock stabilized and the inner doors slid open before Aden could get up. He sucked in a breath and looked up, staring through the open door into the small cargo bay. A Devikian looked up and set a large crate down. An Argossian, another four-legged alien known for their scientific and agricultural strengths, turned and looked at him.

  “You’re late,” the Argossian huffed.

  “Oh shit,” Aden breathed when he saw the Devikian rise up to his full height. This one had dark brown fur and eyes that were even darker.

  “Deadeye’s not going to like you bringing another boy toy aboard,” the Devikian growled.

  “Deadeye?” Aden asked.

  Amber ignored him. “He’s not a boy toy,” she snapped.

  “Oh, so you went for a jog through the station to smell all sweaty like that?”

  Amber scowled. “What, or who, I do on my leave is none of your business, Garf.”

  The door at the front of the hold opened to reveal a woman in brown pants and burnt-yellow tank top. Aden kept looking up past her toned midsection and athletic chest and shoulders to the slender tentacles that swayed and rustled around her head. She was a Vagnosian.

  “You’re late,” she said.

  “You’re still here,” Amber argued.

  “Barely—got a client inbound. Who’s the doormat?”

  Amber kicked Aden in the shoulder. “Get up,” she hissed. She turned back to the Vagnosian and said, “Meshelle, this is Aden. He’s looking for a job.”

  “He looks young, but I’m no expert on humans.”

  “He’s old enough,” Amber certified.

  “Old enough to screw, at least,” Garf added.

  The Argossian’s chuckle sounded like a series of grunts and snorts.

  “I’m not paying for entertainment,” Meshelle growled and looked Aden up and down as he climbed to his feet. “Especially one I got no interest in.”

  “I’m not entert—I’m in security,” Aden said. He lifted his chin and tried to remember what Amber had told him earlier. “Trained at the academy here. Top of my class at the range and with my marks in electronics.”

  “We’re replacing Tolsin, aren’t we?” Amber asked.

  Meshelle looked him up and down again before holding out her hand, palm up. “Let me see your gun.”

  Aden nodded and pulled his sidearm. He went through the motions of making sure the action was cleared and the magazine was empty before handing it to her.

  Meshelle flipped the pistol over and back, studying it. She nodded. “Suits for station use. Can you pop the lock?”

  “Pop the station-lock?” he asked. “Tampering with the lock will broadcast an alert! Security will—”

  “You’re not on the station right now, are you?” she pointed out. “Besides, I didn’t ask that.”

  Aden frowned. “Well, no, not now. But when I go back, if I take the lock off, it will signal the station’s security force.”

  “Aden,” Amber growled.

  He turned to see her nod at Meshelle. Her eyes were lower than the Vagnosian’s face. Low enough she was probably looking at his pistol. He turned back and nodded. “Yeah, I can pop it.”

  She tossed it back to him. “Show me.”

  “But—”

  “Show me, load it, and put three rounds in that crate. You’ve got ten seconds.”

  “Hey!” Garf snapped before he jumped back away from the crate.

  Aden caught the gun and stared at it. “Ten—”

  “Do it!” Amber snapped.

  Aden jerked and fumbled with the gun. He tipped it so it pointed at the ground and dug his free hand into his pocket. He pulled out his all-in-one tool and popped out the blade. With one fingernail jammed into the reset button and the knife digging into the seam in the plastic, he twisted and popped it apart.

  The station-lock bounced across the deck while he was digging into a pocket of his jacket and pulling out a loaded magazine. He jammed it into the bottom of the pistol and had to try again when it slid off the butt. By the time he got it in and yanked the action back to chamber a round, Meshelle stepped in front of him.

  “Time’s up,” the Vagnosian said. “You lose.”

  “I wasn’t ready!” Aden whined.

  Meshelle lunged forward and planted both of her hands in his chest. He stumbled back and bumped into Garf. The Devikian was on all fours, which wasn’t surprising, but he’d moved behind Aden to trip him.

  Aden fell back and teetered over Garf. The back of his thighs pivoted slowly and his boots lost their grip on the metal deck. Aden knew he couldn’t stop himself so he threw his gun up in the air and rolled back over the crouching Devikian. He reached out and hit the ground fingertips first. Aden snapped his legs forward and pushed off the ground, flipping over and landing on one foot and one knee. He looked up and reached out in time to snatch his gun out of the air.

  Three small cracks of bullets breaking the sound barrier joined with the pops of the concentrated powder that ejected them from the barrel. Brown fur floated through the air from the first bullet that barely cleared Garf’s back. All three slugs lodged in the crate.

  “Bet you didn’t expect that!” Aden crowed as he rose to his feet and lowered his pistol.

  Meshelle’s tendrils rose and swayed, showing her agitation. She glared at him and then turned to Garf. “Did he hit you?”

  Garf was twisting and staring at his back. He reached back and patted himself. “He missed.”

  “I hit the box,” Aden protested. “Like you asked!”

  “I said your time was up,” Meshelle spat at him. “That means so was your chance.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, boy toy. Get off my ship.”

  Aden spun and looked at Amber. She shook her head, warning him not to argue. He looked down at his pistol. It was useless now; he couldn’t take it back. He spun around. “You bitch! I never had a chance, did I? You just wanted my sidearm!”

  Meshelle’s serpentine hair writhed. “Boy, don’t you dare challenge me! Your gun is nothing to me! I have dozens that are better. Now get off my ship this instant or I’ll have Garf throw you off. I’ll leave it up to him which air lock to use.”

  Aden opened and closed his mouth. He clenched his teeth and threw his pistol to the ground. He’d have to save up for a couple of months to get another one. He spun and started towards the air lock when a chime rang through the hull.

  Meshelle cursed and said, “Stand aside. I’ve got a client coming aboard. Don’t say a thing!”

  Amber snapped her fingers to get his attention and gestured for him to join her. He scowled and grabbed his pistol before moving next to her. He holstered it and waited while Meshelle moved to the air lock doors and opened them. She stepped back and waited for the newest guest to join them.

  Aden’s eyes widened when the alien stepped into the hold. He had to look down to see the four-foot tall being as it moved ahead in a smooth and quick motion on the twelve tentacles it used. The Kesari looked to be little more than a large greenish-gray head rising out of the tentacles. Two eyes and a small mouth marked the being’s front. Flaps covered two slits it used for breathing.

  “You are Meshelle, the one they call Deadeye?” he asked in a soft and raspy voice.

  “I am,” Meshelle said. “I’m surprised. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve dealt with a Kesari.”

  “I am Fluvulis. Your accomplishments came to my attention at a time when I need someon
e able to move quickly, yet with a proper understanding of priorities and mission parameters.”

  “I see. How swiftly are we talking?”

  “Now.”

  Meshelle’s sinuous hair went still. “I’ve taken on fresh supplies but we’re still undergoing maintenance on the ship. Nothing that impairs our ability to fly, but our backup life support power generator broke down on us. The new one was being installed before you showed up.”

  The Kesari’s tentacles twitched upwards as though it were shrugging. “Fix it on the way,” he said. “I am prepared to pay aggressively.”

  “I like aggressive,” Garf muttered.

  “What is the job?” Meshelle asked.

  “I require an escort to a discreet location. There may be light resistance, but it’s unlikely. This is a clandestine operation, so it requires absolute silence.”

  The Argossian grunted and dropped on his haunches to sit down.

  “What if I turn you down?” Meshelle asked. “There goes your secrecy.”

  “You won’t,” Fluvulis said. “It is a very aggressive payment.”

  Meshelle’s hair twitched once and lay still.

  “What kind of aggressive are we talking?”

  “Name your price. It could take a month or longer and will require superluminal travel on at least one occasion.”

  Meshelle’s fingers rubbed her thigh as she considered his question. “Galactic credits?”

  “If you desire,” Fluvulis agreed.

  “Fifteen thousand, with five payable up front.”

  Aden heard Amber’s breath hiss through her nose. Fifteen thousand credits was more than he made in a year. It was more than four years at the academy would have cost him!

  “Twenty-five thousand, five of that now, and we leave within ten minutes,” Fluvulis said. “Long and medium range communications systems shut down after we receive clearance to leave.”

  Meshelle stiffened and turned to see Garf’s jaw hanging almost as far below his mouth as his ram horns rose above his head. She turned to Aden and narrowed her eyes. “Go with Chuck and get that backup life support generator working.”

  Aden jerked and turned to Amber. He opened his mouth to ask the obvious question: who the hell is Chuck?

  Before he could out himself, the Argossian snorted and rose to his feet. “It’s already in the port engine room. Come on.”

  Amber gave him a nod and a ghost of a smile. He returned the nod and turned to look at Meshelle. He offered her the same nod and smile and saw her hair twitch in response. He bit back his laugh and trotted through the door after Chuck.

  Chapter 4

  “Why can’t we ever turn the heat on in here?”

  Aden heard Amber groan and saw her shake her head, but he was already turning to get a look at whoever owned the sultry voice that had spoken behind him. He saw skin first. Smooth and bright, the color of a setting sun. He turned some more, his lips parting in surprise while he followed the long leg up to where it joined her hip. The only thing that interrupted the line was a narrow band of polished metal that served as a belt and held up an unusual silvery skirt that was slash cut diagonally away from her left hip. The skirt left her right ankle and her entire left hip and leg on display.

  Her stomach was smooth and flowed up to the silver tassels that hung from the bottom of the matching sash that was crisscrossed over her prominent breasts. Even more prominent was the effect the cold in the small galley was having on her.

  The Tassarian woman stood at the entrance for a long moment, letting Aden ogle her. She stretched her arms out and arched her back, pressing her chest forward and straining the sash against the flesh it barely contained.

  “Holy shit,” Aden breathed in disbelief. He’d seen Tassarians before. They were beautiful, whether male or female, but this was something else. They possessed no humility and adored attention, but what he was seeing went beyond that.

  The woman twisted, stretching her back some more, and caused her sash to slide across her skin. The bulge of her nipple traveled across the silvery fabric closer and closer to the edge until—

  “Okay, you win,” Amber snapped. Aden jerked his head back around to see her dig her cred-stick out of a pocket on her jacket and stab the screen with her finger. “There, one hundred credits. Bitch.”

  “Damn it!” snarled Tosc, a Lermian sitting at the table beside Amber.

  “Ten more seconds,” Garf agreed with the feline-faced alien.

  “Not ten, two,” the Tassarian said. She smiled and shrugged, her clothing falling back into place. “Sorry, boys.”

  Both men groaned and looked back down to their plates. The Tassarian walked over and swung her left leg over the stool, baring all of her inner thigh except the part that mattered the most. She dropped onto the stool and smiled at Aden before sticking out her hand. “I’m Twyf.”

  Aden nearly choked on his tongue but managed to shake her hand. Her skin felt smooth and moist, but she hid a strength inside that let her move with the grace she displayed. He jerked his eyes up to hers and admired her sun-kissed yellow and orange face and golden eyes. “Aden,” he mumbled. “Sorry about, um—”

  She smiled, showing sharp teeth. “No you’re not. Besides, I like it.”

  “Holy—you—wow!”

  She winked at him and turned to look at Amber. “He’s cute. Are you two—”

  “No,” Amber snapped. “And neither are you. The boss doesn’t like complications, especially when we got a job.”

  Tosc swallowed the stringy meat he’d been chewing on and slurped up a drink out of the straw in his cup. “What’re you doing here, anyhow?”

  “Don’t be pissed at him because I ruined your show,” Amber said.

  “Mind your business,” Tosc snapped. “I was talking to him. And I’m over that. It’s not like Twyf does anything but tease anyhow.”

  “Hey!” Twyf argued. “Don’t blame me. Without a real bath, do you know how hard it is to get fur off my skin?”

  Garf chuckled and slid off the stool he was sitting on. He grabbed his plate in one hand and used his legs and other hand to walk across to the washing unit. “Deadeye told him to get lost, but our new client showed up and didn’t give him a chance to leave.”

  Aden winced and saw Tosc studying him. “That a fact?”

  “I guess,” Aden admitted. “She didn’t give me a fair chance, though. Besides, I think I proved myself after.”

  Garf snorted. “You almost shot me, Terran. Don’t think I’ll forget that.”

  “I missed. Missed you, at least. Hit what I was aiming for.”

  “What happened?” Tosc asked while Twyf leaned in closer to Aden to listen.

  Aden turned and stared at the bronze-skinned beauty so close to him. His eyes shifted their focus and looked down past her face to where her wrap struggled to keep her breasts from falling free. Her position and angle pressed her cleavage together and offered a hint of a darker tone of flesh near the edge of the sash.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked him.

  Aden jerked his eyes back to her golden irises. He gawked for a moment and then said in a rising voice, “No!”

  “Don’t even bother,” Garf suggested. “She don’t give it up.”

  Twyf turned and stuck her tongue out at the Devikian. “Your people have a history of taking mine as slaves, so excuse me for not wanting to jump into bed with you!”

  Aden glanced at Amber and saw her roll her eyes. He tilted his head, wondering what was going on he didn’t know about, but before he could try to ask, Twyf turned and pointed her finger at Tosc. He noted the faint webbing between her fingers, a reminder of how her race had evolved.

  “And your people aren’t any better,” she accused the Lermian.

  Tosc held his hands up. His fingernails looked more like claws but his brown fur thinned to nothing below his wrist. “My people didn’t make slaves of yours.”

  “Trophies,” she snorted.

  Tosc’s short snout
made his grin seem feral. “Prized trophies.”

  “You didn’t mount them on a wall, did you?” Aden asked.

  “Oh, there was plenty of mounting,” Twyf said. “But not any walls.”

  “Oh.” Aden looked at the Lermian and saw that he was still grinning. Another definition for the word mount came to him. “Oh!”

  Amber groaned and stood up. “Come on, kid. I’ll show you around and tell you what you can do. We’re a few hours from being able to go superluminal still, so—”

  A blaring alarm cut through the ship, stopping Amber in mid-sentence. Twyf and Tosc jumped to their feet. They started to move, leaving Aden standing still and feeling stupid. Amber grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him after her.

  “What’s going on? Attack?” Aden asked.

  Amber nodded. “Come on, let’s gear up and take our stations. I’ll take you to our armory. You can wear Tolsin’s suit.”

  “Isn’t he the guy who got killed?”

  “Hope you’re not superstitious,” she said.

  Aden bit his lip and followed behind her. The alarm cut off, plunging them into silence. He followed her to a locked door and waited for her to punch in the code to open it. Just before the door slid open, he asked, “Um, what’s my station?”

  Chapter 5

  Aden looked down as much as his armored space suit would allow and then looked back up. It was pointless; the suit was just too big and clumsy. He stood at the door of the bridge of the Uma and watched the crew at work. He was glad nobody wanted him to do anything; he could manage to move in the armor but not fast or far.

  Amber stood on the other side of the door with weapons bristling from her armor. The only weapon she’d given Aden was a large rifle that his helmet identified as a Colson Cartridge Assault Weapon. Circuitry in the rifle linked up with the suit and displayed the payload of the magazine: sixty cartridges loaded with pulsed laser rounds. A targeting reticle flashed whenever he placed his finger on the trigger.

  He wasn’t sure where Garf, Tosc, or Chuck was at but he imagined the Argossian was in one of the ship’s main engine rooms. Twyf was at a station on the bridge, wearing a space suit that managed to hug her form and still look sexy. Another Lermian in an armored suit that was far more mobile than Aden’s sat at the pilot’s station.