Barbarian's Choice: A SciFi Alien Romance (Ice Planet Barbarians Book 12) Read online

  Something different.

  At first I think it is my eyes playing tricks on me. A flash of light, and then it is gone. I squint up at the skies, my hand to my brow as I gaze at the clouds. Was it my imagination?

  But then, there it is again. It flashes in the sky and then grows dark. It moves quickly, darting high up and between the clouds, moving like no bird or sky-claw I have ever seen before. I watch in wonder as it hovers over one of the distant cliffs, then zooms across the sky faster than I can follow. When the lights flash again, I realize what this is.

  It is another human cave, just like the one Shorshie and the others came from. We have visitors from the stars. For a moment, I am terrified. Maybe someone has come to take Shorshie and the other humans away? Back where they came from? But no, they have said many times that they did not come here willingly, and Kira made sure their cave did not go back to the skies.

  These people are here for different reasons. They must be.

  But what?

  2

  MARDOK

  “I can’t believe we gotta set down here. Do you know where the kef we are?” Trakan snarls, sticking another carcinogel between his lips and lighting it. His foot taps angrily on the floor of the main deck.

  “You’re the navigator,” I tell him, keeping my tone slow and unconcerned as I scroll through screen after screen of error codes. “That’s your job.”

  “Kopan Keffing VI,” he snarls, and I can hear the angry smack of his fingers against his input station as he types. “Uninhabited keffing snowball of a planet, that’s what it is.”

  “Better than Kopan V,” Captain Chatav says, unruffled as he gazes out the monitors into space. “We’d be crispy if we landed any closer to that binary star. We’re lucky to be this far out.”

  Trakan snorts and gets to his feet, storming off the bridge.

  Chatav isn’t concerned. He swigs his tea and regards the screen, lit up with engine diagnostics. Not much ruffles the captain. Not after serving half his life in the military and being shipped out to conflict after endless conflict. To him, this is probably cake and not an emergency. “You can fix this, Vendasi?”

  “Probably,” I tell him. “Might need to take the engine or the matter drive apart, but I’m positive I can at least patch us to the next spaceport if nothing else. And call me Mardok.” Being called by my surname reminds me of my time in the military, and I’d rather not think about that shit. Not today. Not any day, really.

  Today, though, I’m trying not to panic. I don’t like that we’re stuck here. I don’t like being stranded. Not one keffing bit.

  The captain nods at my response. “See to it then, Vendasi. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

  I don’t correct him again. Been working with the captain for three years now and he still calls me Vendasi. Guess you can’t take the military out of him, even after all this time. It’s a game between us, one that’s been going on for a long time. I tell him what to call me, and he calls me whatever the kef he pleases, because he’s the captain. Most days I find it amusing. Today, it just irritates me. But I suck it up and do my best to not let it eat at me. Been down that road too many times. Let the small things get to me and I’ll never get my head calm.

  So I nod at the captain and grab my diagnostic pad. Everyone else gets to relax while we wait, but I get to work. Lucky me. I click a button on my console and lean in to give the order. “Computer, initiate landing.”

  It’s not the matter drive. I figure that out about three hours into the diagnostic. That’s a good thing, because if the matter drive is busted, we’re straight up keffed. So if it isn’t the matter drive, has to be the engine. The good news is that I can likely fix the engine. The bad news is that I have to take it apart to see which parts are failing, and that means going outside onto Kopan VI.

  In a way, I’m kind of looking forward to it. Spent the last few weeks on a medic station before returning to The Tranquil Lady, and before that, spent the last few years in space. Spent most of my time back in the military riding shuttles and at base stations, with a few ugly exceptions. Getting out in the open sounds kinda nice. According to my info-feed, the atmosphere’s breathable. There are a few bad elements that need to be filtered out, so I clip an air-gen to my nose and wait for it to kick in. Once it does, I breathe deep. Amazing how something so small can even cut away the dank, metallic smell of the ship. I suck in another breath or two, then grab my di-pad and my tools, and hit the button for the hatch.

  It creaks open, ice cracking off and falling away as the hatch door slides back. A blast of frigid air hits me in the face, and I immediately shut the hatch again with a slap of my hand over the button.

  Kef. That is cold outside. I’m shocked that my regulating jumpsuit isn’t able to handle the temperature. Feels colder than deep space, though I’m not sure that’s possible.

  I swallow the uneasiness I feel. We’re not stranded, I remind myself. It’s an easy fix. The ship isn’t critical, just has a minor problem. You can fix this. I retreat backward into the ship, flexing my artificial arm. The metal can handle extreme temperatures, but it still feels colder than the rest of my body. I clench my fist over and over again, expecting to hear a creak in the metallic joints, but there is nothing. There never is. Flexing my hand, I head over to the gear station in the bay and suit up against the environment. I leave off a helmet—it’s not necessary and I like for my eyes to be unobstructed while I work. Niri has a scarf left in here, since she claims her neck gets cold in enviro-suits. I wrap it around my exposed neck, ignoring the fact that it’s bright pink and yellow. It’s warm, and that’s all that matters. Once I’m dressed, I slap the door hatch again and close my eyes, bracing against the bone-jarring cold. Guess I don’t have to wonder about why this place isn’t inhabited. Not only is it in the middle of keffing nowhere, but it’s also so cold it makes your cock freeze off. I hunch against the brutal wind and head out, tools in hand.

  On the underside of The Tranquil Lady, I’m mostly protected from the wind, and the cold isn’t so bad. I unscrew panels on the hull, setting them down carefully in the thick snow before moving on to the next one. My diagnostic pad is telling me that everything in the engine is working just fine, which means that it’s wrong and I’m going to have to pull things apart and examine them, one by one, to determine what the problem is. I don’t mind working with my hands. Calms the roar in my brain. Just wish it wasn’t so cold. I get to work, carefully removing one part and setting it down, then another. A few of them are corroded in spots, which points to a leak somewhere. Maybe there’s not enough damage—yet—to cause things to stop working completely, but enough to cause the jerking in the accelerator, which is what concerned Trakan and the captain in the first place. I forget all about the cold after a few minutes of work, more interested in finding the problem and determining the extent of the damage.

  “Holy kef, it’s colder than a tranki whore’s tits out here.”

  Niri. I sigh inwardly. Gods love the old woman. She won’t leave me alone. Ever since I returned from my father’s funeral, she’s been hovering like she’s a mama zenda and I’m her spindly legged colt. “Under here,” I call out, because she’s going to find me anyhow. “Watch where you step.”

  “All this snow,” Niri exclaims, and I hear her feet crunch on the ice. “Brr! Give me a regulated-temperature cabin any day of the week.” As I glance over, she picks her way across the parts-strewn snow under the ship and makes her way toward me. She has a sweater held tightly around her lanky frame, and the metal tips on her horns are icing up. I imagine mine must be coated, too. She’s got a breather on, at least.

  “You’re not dressed to be out here,” I tell her, turning back to the next screw I’m carefully pulling out. It’s corroded as well, and looking a bit stripped. Damn. Captain’s going to blame me if this shit’s all rundown and busted. It’s my job to keep things in shape down here, and I’m wondering if I somehow missed something or if I’ve been too occupied to not
ice the poor state of the engine. Either way, I’m keffing ashamed.

  “I won’t be out here long. I just came out to see how you’re doing.” She comes and stands next to me, shivering as she gazes around her. “How’s it look?”

  “Not good.”

  “That’s because you’re a pessimist,” she says crisply. “I’m sure you can fix it.”

  I’m sure I can, too. “Eventually. There’s a leak in here somewhere. Hate that I missed something vital.”

  She makes a noise of agreement. “It’s not like you to be sloppy, but you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  Here we go. I remain silent, focused on my task so I don’t have to think about what’s coming up.

  “How are you handling things? You’ve been quiet today. Not that you were very talky before, but I’m a woman. I notice these things.”

  Niri’s also old enough to be my grandmother, and twice as nosy. “Fine.”

  She snorts, and I feel her thwack me on the side a moment later. “Don’t give me that shit. Before you left you were all wounded inside and strong outside. Since you came back, you’re just hollow all over. You wanna talk about it? Or about what’s bothering you today?”

  “No.”

  “Mardok, don’t be an asshole.”

  I’m not. “That’s Trakan’s job. As for what’s crawled up my ass…I just don’t wanna be stranded.” Understatement.

  “Fair enough. And Trakan’s an asshole because he’s got a girl back at spaceport and misses her.”

  Does he? I didn’t know. I wonder if I should feel guilty. We’re a small crew—four strong—and we should be close. I should know if Trakan’s got a girl waiting for him. I did notice he’s been huffing carcinogels a lot more. “Mm.”

  “You got someone waiting back at spaceport for you?”

  “No one.”

  “Well, that’s your problem.” Her crackling, imperious voice softens. “You’re lonely.”

  I clench my jaw. I’m not lonely. Can’t be lonely when you crew on a ship as small as this one. Can’t afford it. I’ve been out on runs for months at a time. Never know when I’m going to be back somewhere for longer than a day or two, and that suits me fine. Haven’t been with a girl since I left the military. Prefer it that way, really. No one to make miserable while I’m gone. No one to stay up at night, terrified and weeping and wondering if I’m missing in action, like my mother worried about my father. I’ve got my hand when I’m lonely enough. It’ll do. “I’m fine.”

  “Was the funeral nice? Did they shoot the coffin into space, or did you buy a plot on one of the moons?”

  Gods, she’s not going away, is she? I bite back my sigh. “Cremated.”

  “Ah. And your family?”

  “I’m it.”

  Her voice softens. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mardok? I think of you like one of my sons, and you just don’t seem to be yourself lately. I worry, that’s all. Got nothing to do but look after you and Trakan on these long voyages. Captain Chatav’s so healthy he doesn’t even need a damn medic.”

  I grunt. She’s not wrong. Chatav’s very into balanced nutrition bars instead of meals, and drinks nothing but herbal teas. Works out every day in the ship gym and can probably bench press my entire body without breaking a sweat. Trakan’s skinny and thin. I’m muscled, but I don’t bulk. It’d look ridiculous with my bionic arm. As if my missing arm knows I’m thinking about it, it aches, and I flex my hand. Even with a metal arm and six years of living with it under my belt, the phantom pain doesn’t go away. Probably never will. “Promise I’m fine.”

  I don’t know what to say to her. The words stick in my throat. What do I tell someone like Niri, who’s acerbic and cusses like any soldier but has the heart of the softest kitten? She’d never understand my relationship with my father. That we fell apart when my mother died and our last conversations together were angry, bitter ones. That I got the call two days after he died, and we never had final words to say to each other. That our last ones were full of hatred. That he thought I was a weakling for leaving the military behind, even after it shattered my body and nearly broke my mind. I still dream about the people on Uzocar IV, and my men. I still hear them screaming. In my mind, I still hear the ship flying away…without us on it. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can smell the bodies of the dead. It still kefs with my sleep.

  My father’s funeral was a military one. Being there around all those soldiers? Brought back all the hell I’ve worked for six years to bury. Made me remember, when I took a job on The Tranquil Lady specifically to forget. Which reminds me. “You still got the sleep meds I like, Niri?”

  “I do.” The concern creeps back into her voice. “You’re not sleeping again?”

  “Not enough.” I want to leave it at that, but my artificial arm cramps up with another phantom pain and I nearly drop the wrench I’m holding. I pull away from the half-dismantled engine and glance over at her. There’s concern written all over her pale blue face, almost comical given the amount of ice forming on the decorative metal capping her horns. “Just tired,” I add, and rub my face with my good hand. “Sometimes I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Captain deserves a better mech.”

  “You know this crew. We hire people that don’t ask questions.” She reaches out and pats my arm. “Besides, you’re so big that you’re security as well as mech. Two for one. You know Chatav’s a cheap bastard.”

  I snort. That he is. “Go inside, Niri. I’m fine, I promise. We’ll talk later.”

  She nods and pulls her thin sweater tighter around her frame. “I’ll get those meds for you and we’ll chat. Dinner?”

  “Dinner’s good. Thanks.” It’ll make her feel better to mother me for a few hours.

  Niri gives me a faint smile and heads back inside, her tail flicking in the wind.

  I’m alone again with my thoughts and the snow. I watch her leave, contemplating. Maybe she’s right and I’ve been more silent than usual, sloppier on the job. I don’t mind being a mech. I don’t even mind being security. Ever since my father’s death, though…I’m just tired. Hollowed out. Like nothing’s left of me after the war on Rede System IV. Thought I’d gotten better at handling it, but after the funeral, I think I realized I haven’t been handling it at all. I’ve just buried it, and seeing my father—my angry, proud, bitter father—put into a coffin pushed me right back over the edge again.

  I sigh to myself and return to my work, tugging at a loose screw. Shouldn’t matter that I’m nothing but broken parts inside. That’s why people crew on long-distance freighters like The Tranquil Lady. Got nothing going on in their lives. I go back to work, filling my mind with the problem at hand and not problems long gone. Don’t want that shit in my head.

  I don’t know how long I’m working after that. I lose myself in the gears that fit together, the small, intricate parts that play such a vital role in the complex engine of the ship. It’s like a puzzle, and I enjoy figuring out which pieces are needing attention. I’m lost in thought, my hands around an oily gear, when I hear a sound behind me. It’s a gasp, small and feminine. Niri. I pull my filthy hands free and glance over my shoulder.

  It’s not Niri.

  It’s…a woman. A stranger.

  I must be hallucinating, because she’s gorgeous. Something out of a dream with arching, proud horns, long black hair, and a hauntingly lovely face. Her eyes glow a strange, bright blue, and she’s completely, utterly keffing naked except for the tiniest of loincloths.

  That does it. I’ve lost it. I’ve finally snapped.

  She beams at me, all white teeth and vibrant blue skin, her tail fluttering back and forth with interest. She looks at me with awe and wonder both on her face, and she’s…just breathtakingly beautiful. I’m stunned by how perfect she is, from the high, tight buds of her breasts to the long, muscular length of her legs. I don’t know how she’s not freezing out here, because she’s wearing absolutely nothing.

  Of course, she’s imaginary, so I don’t suppose it
matters.

  She says something, her glowing eyes distracting me, and she picks up one of the discarded parts. She cocks her head at me like she’s just asked a question.

  “Sweetheart, if you’re a dream of mine, you’d be less interested in the mechanical parts and more interested in mine,” I murmur. Even though I haven’t felt the need for female companionship in a long, long keffing time, the sight of this woman is making my cock stir uncomfortably. It has to be because she’s so naked and so…fit and lean. There’s not an ounce of fat on her body. Her perfect, perfect body.

  The girl says something again and holds the gear out to me. Her long hair blows in the wind, and I see she has a few braids tangled in with the long, glossy locks. Her horns aren’t capped and she’s got no tattoos, no body art whatsoever. She looks wild and primitive, and…and I must be completely crazy, because she looks so keffing real and utterly sexy.

  But this planet is deserted. Inhospitable. The air has traces of poison in it. “You’re not real, are you?”

  Her brows pinch, and her mouth turns down. She gestures at the gear again, her gaze flicking over me with avid curiosity. I notice she keeps stopping at my horns and my facial tattoos. I have a feeling that if my bionic arm were uncovered, she’d stare at that, too. Normally it bugs me when people stare, but I don’t think there’s malice or glee in this imaginary woman, just curiosity. Curiosity and sheer, abandoned beauty.

  I guess my spank material is taking a turn toward the odd. Huh. I take the gear from her hands, and as I do, our fingers brush.

  And that’s when I realize three things.

  She’s real, she’s incredibly warm, and she’s purring.

  FARLI

  I watch the cave land in the distance, fascinated. It settles down like a lumbering sa-kohtsk, blowing snow in every direction and making my hair whip wildly about my head as if there’s an incredibly strong storm. The skies are clear, though, so the wind must be coming from the cave. How curious. Something high-pitched whines and roars as it descends, loud enough to frighten Chahm-pee back over the ridge. I know he will return, so I do not chase after him. He knows he is safe with me.