Gamma Raiders: Storm Squadron Alpha: Scifi Alien Romance Novel (19 page)

With no time to second guess herself, Lana rocked the magnecycle back, throwing the weight of her body to the left as she broke from the canyon edge. She gunned the throttle as she raced the falling stone. Her cycle juddered and spat as its meager engine pushed itself to capacity. She gripped the handles as they pulsed beneath her, quaking under the strain of the exhausted engine.
Steady,
she told herself, wrestling to keep the cycle under control.

There was no room for error. This was going to be tight.

A chunk of stone smashed to the ground in front of her, mere inches from where she was headed only moments before. A blanket of debris clouded her vision. No time to course correct. She had to trust.

Then, she felt a bone-shaking crash behind her. The vibrations surged through her as the massive archway shattered against the canyon floor and she flew unscathed into the open mouth of the city.

Safe.

Not that she expected anything less. She was the best damn pilot on Tarksis. She was ready for the Gamma quadrant. Ready for the Dennegar belt.

Nothing could shake her.

Chapter 2

Lana killed the engine on her magnecycle and made her way to the Bazaar on foot. It was never a good idea to let the merchants see you coming in on a cycle. They were more likely to take advantage of you if they thought you had something to barter with. The less ammunition you provided them, the better.

The only major city on its namesake planet, Tarksis should have been an inspiration. A monument of triumph for those who braved the harsh conditions of life in such an inhospitable place.

In reality, it was anything but.

The wooden pushcarts and dilapidated shops of the Bazaar stretched out before her. The sight of the crumbling, abandoned buildings and the defeated eyes of the people in the streets bored into her heart every time she saw the place. Even as a child, she had hoped it would be a bustling metropolis filled with possibilities. She imagined a place where she could experience the art and culture from far-flung corners of the Galaxy. With the massive deposits of Tarkanium buried deep within the planet, there should have been more than enough wealth to support a vibrant and growing city. But the Kamaran military made sure that that every last bit of it was funneled back into the Empire. They left nothing but scraps for the citizens who were too powerless to protest.

Their desperation showed in their faces. The people knew they deserved something better. But the hopelessness of Imperial control ran deep, seeping into their very bones.

The place bustled with the activity of daily life. It was a hub for traders who made their way here from the breadth of the galaxy. Resting just on the edge of the Empire, Tarksis was largely ignored. A fact which made it particularly appealing to those who didn’t care to abide by the letter of Imperial law.

Lana hated spending time in the city. She was grateful that her parents had built their home outside the walls. It was a shelter from the fog of depression that possessed the soul of the city. And the citizens who were lucky enough to find work outside the mines tended to stay as far away from the Imperials as possible.

She loathed the thugs and the gangsters trading here almost as much as she loathed the Imperials. It was a perfect storm of greed and corruption. And sometimes, that worked to her advantage.

As a pilot for the Consortium, she had access to the cargo manifests of most of the ships that made port on Tarksis. And she heard plenty of scuttlebutt about the supplies that
weren’t
on the manifests thanks to her father’s old friend, Sakaj Namat. That kind of information came in handy when you were in the market for ship mods.

She braced herself against the crowd as she approached the Bazaar, gathering the material of her headscarf. The throngs of people, human and otherwise, pulsed like a living creature. And they could be just as deadly.
Stay vigilant
, she told herself. Lana wasn’t stupid enough to carry anything valuable. But the hungry mobs of pickpockets didn’t know that.

She tasted copper and dust in the dry air, and the familiar sounds of merchants rattling their wares filled her ears. Handcrafted knickknacks purported to solve all one’s problems, basic cutlery of the mundane and lethal sorts, assorted supplies for surviving the fearsome Tarksian sun. All of it could be found for the right price.

Lana wrapped her scarf around her face as she penetrated the crowd. The fewer people that recognized her here, the better. Lana didn’t want word getting back to officials in the Trade Consortium that she had dealings with anyone in the Bazaar. That kind of rumor would cause them to double the inspections of her cargo. It was more headache than it was worth.

It was well-known, if unprovable, that many of the exotic treasures one could acquire were pillaged from Consortium ships that failed to arrive at their intended destinations. The Kamaran officials received steep discounts and gifts in exchange for not asking too many questions.

But the Bazaar wasn’t only for gangsters and thugs. It provided a few of the more entrepreneurial colonists with the opportunity to earn an honest living. Trust was hard-earned on Tarksis, but the Artruvian junk dealer, Sakaj Namat, was an old friend of her father’s. And that was good enough for her.

She lowered her head and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the catcalls of a large, scaly-skinned Ratolian fellow with a pair of curled horns protruding from the sides of his craggy face. The ample curves of her soft body were always enough to attract attention here in the Bazaar. Attention she preferred to avoid.

As she ducked deeper into the crowd to speed away from Curly-Horns, she passed a merchant’s cart carrying a fresh harvest of ripe, orange sun-fruits. No doubt imported from the thriving garden planet of Anara. All the best delicacies were. Anara’s mild climate nurtured lush jungles, thriving oceans, and rugged mountains. The place was a paradise of abundance, and every once in a while, exotic fruits and other goods found their way to the Bazaar.

She stopped for a moment, gazing wistfully at the sun-fruit. Lana had neither the time nor the credits to indulge. That was a luxury reserved for wealthy off-worlders and corrupt city officials.

Disgusted, Lana turned away, crashing into the cart as she spun. A large, ripe fruit rolled off the top of the pile, and straight into the hands of…

“Hungry?” said a deep masculine voice that didn’t belong to the merchant. Lana lifted her head to greet the most gorgeous Kamaran man she’d ever laid eyes on. The same man she’d seen on Kira’s holocomm earlier. His strong, broad-shouldered frame and well-muscled arms suggested military. But he lacked the uniform. And he wasn’t dressed in the extravagantly tailored suit of a nobleman or city-official, either. He looked as though he belonged here, among the common people, but he carried himself with a confidence and poise that didn’t quite fit.

“No,” she said. “No, I was just looking.”

The man smiled at her, chuckling softly. “No need to be ashamed. I know the look of hunger. I’ve seen far too much of it around here.”

A strange comment for a Kamaran to make. She’d grown so used to their indifference. She assumed they lacked the empathy to see anything beyond the tips of their noses.

Lana looked up at the man’s eyes. Soft, piercing blue eyes. Penetrating her.

“You’re not supposed to notice things like that,” Lana said.

“Is that so?” He cocked an eyebrow, challenging her to explain.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Her skin flushed a soft rose color as her pulse quickened. Lana never got flustered. She wasn’t used to the feeling. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. People usually get the wrong idea about me. Please,” he said, holding the fruit out to her. “It’s my treat.” The Kamaran palmed the credit sensor, appeasing the merchant who now watched the pair with great interest.

To her surprise, he had the credits.

“Take it,” he said. “I insist.”

“I don’t want anything from you.” She tensed, expecting his insistence. Her body prepared itself to flee as the adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Anyone willing to buy Anaran sun-fruit for a stranger was working an angle. Lana wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“As you wish,” he said.

She tore her eyes away from the strong jawline and radiant blue eyes and backed away. The Consortium wouldn’t wait. And she still needed her parts for the nav system. She didn’t have time for the enigma. No matter how attractive it seemed.

***

Lana peered back over her shoulder as she turned off the main strip of the marketplace. Sakaj Namat’s shop hid deep in a back alley, so it was a manner of prudence to make sure she wasn’t being followed by anyone with questionable intentions. The Kamaran seemed harmless enough, but it was better not to risk it.

Her vision grew hazy as the memories came rushing back. Her father’s body, laying in a blood-soaked heap in the dry Tarksis sand, the victim of Kamaran treachery. He was a good man. A great man, even. The only one she had ever known.

When her mother’s condition deteriorated, he set out to help her any way he could. The genetically reactive serum that cured the Rend was difficult to synthesize. And with no qualified doctors on the planet, not to mention the necessary equipment, the only hope for a cure lied in securing it from a less than reputable source.

A trusting man who always saw the good in people, her father struck a deal with a Kamaran noble who promised him a dose. He hesitantly accepted the terms, going against everything he stood for to provide a diversion while the noble diverted payment for an ore shipment into his private coffers.

The noble provided Alec with the serum as promised. But they never bothered to tell him that the concoction was incomplete, lacking the extract of an Anaran moonlily. Without the extract to potentiate it, the serum was fatal.

Details like that didn’t matter to the gangsters.

Alec’s mistake cost Lauren her life.

The Imperials thought that with nothing left to lose, they would have a new pawn to play with. Someone to help siphon the wealth of the planet into their hands.

The viscount misjudged him. Alec refused to be his puppet. And the viscount had him slaughtered to ensure his silence.

It had been seven years, but it was a lesson that Lana never forget. Never trust a Kamaran. The policy had served her well as the size of the occupation force grew on Tarksis, and it was a philosophy she would live by until her dying day.

She chastised herself for her weakness as the memory replayed in her mind. She had to be strong for Tanner’s sake. But the floodgates were opened now, so she dealt with it the only way she knew how: She let it in. Let it run its course.

One day, they would pay for what they did.

She collected herself and pushed open the flimsy wooden door leading into Sakaj’s shop as the comforting smell of dusty books rushed up to meet her.

“Lana!” he shouted a little too excitedly, knocking over the circuit he’d been tinkering with as he raised his arms and rushed to her in greeting.

“Hi, Sakaj.” She opened her arms and embraced him.

“Always a pleasant surprise,” he said, beaming. “Hope they’re giving you some time to rest every now and then.
Business is business,”
he spat. “Wretched Imperial bastards. Business is
people
Lana. Never forget it.”

“You’d never let me if I tried.”

“You got that right,” he said. “Never forget what’s important. It’s the people, Lana. Got to take care of them, or there’s no one to do business
with.
All the Tarkanium in the world won’t do you a lick of good if you’ve got no one to appreciate and share it with. Speaking of which…”

“No, it’s just me and Tanner. And we’re doing just fine.”

“I know it’s none of my business, Lana. I just want to see you happy. You’ve been through too much. You need someone to help you take the load off. Your father told me to take care of you, and…”

“I can take care of myself,” she said, a bit more defensively than she intended.

“That you can, my girl. That you can.” He pulled the door closed behind and led her past the rows of dust-covered tomes that were no interest to the gangsters or the military. Sometimes she wondered how he managed to keep his shop open at all. But she already knew the answer. It was the reason she was here. Sakaj Namat was a trader of information.

“So, what can I do for you?” he said. “As much I wish you’d pay me a social call every once in a while, something tells me you’re not here to just to chat.”

“Can’t get anything past you, Kaj,” she teased.

“You’ve got your mother’s tongue. Well, before…” His face drew into a frown and his eyes grew distant. “So what do you need? There’s a transpo full of new recruits unloading at the depot right now.”

Lana scowled.

“But you’re not interested in dating them. I understand, Lana. I’ll mind my business. But you deserve to be happy.”

“Maybe you’re right, Kaj,” she humored him. He looked like he could use a spot of hope. “But not today. Actually, I was wondering if you knew where I could get a new set of nav sensors. Kira and I are headed out into the Gamma quadrant.”

“Gods, Lana. Why? Why would take a job like that?”

“You know why. The Imperials are stingy bastards, but they’ll pay well for a job like this. And…Tanner. Besides, I can handle it.”

“I worry about you, Lana. I know you can fly, but Gamma isn’t safe. Isn’t there some other way?”

“Like making a deal with a Tarksian viscount? You mean that way?”

“No,” he shot her a pained look. “No, I didn’t mean that. I just wish that things had been different. You don’t deserve all this.”

“I’ll be fine, Kaj.” She touched his arm reassuringly. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Sakaj shook his head. “Nav sensors, nav sensors. Maybe if…no. But I could…no, that won’t work either. If I’d known you needed them, I would have grabbed a set last time they brought in a parts haul. But I don’t think anyone here has what anything better than a standard set. Nothing that’ll help you with the Dennegar belt.” He looked at Lana disparagingly. “You can still turn them down.”