Bound by Fate Read online

  Without turning or pausing in his task, he projected his flat, machine-like voice into her head. Miss Barker, no need to repeat yourself. I heard your clumsy approach through the tunnel. Your visit is most unwelcome—I am busy.”

  Why did he have to be such an ass?

  “I upheld my end of the bargain. Now I’ve come to collect what you owe me,” she returned, adding snidely, “and I’d like to get it done quickly. I have other things to do this evening that don’t involve spelunking in unstable caves.”

  Wisely, she kept to herself that he creeped her out in a major way and she wanted to be done with him—permanently.

  He didn’t reply right away, continuing to flip switches, rotate dials, and swipe-touch screens. Several moments dragged by before he turned to face her. When his soulless black eyes drilled into her, she somehow contained a shudder, but, try as she might, she couldn’t keep from inching away. Although she wanted to convey confidence, what she wanted more was a safe distance between her and her alien ally. At least that’s the role she’d hoped to portray. But Elizabeth Barker allied with one person and one person only—numero uno.

  “I did everything you required of me,” she told the creature when he still didn’t respond. “I turned a blind eye when you blew up my own damn mine—”

  Your government’s mine I believe you said.

  “Whatever,” she uttered dismissively. “I was in charge of the research. Now it’s gone, and they want to know who is responsible. I covered your tracks by accusing an innocent of being behind it.”

  She wasn’t losing sleep over that last bit. Her old nemesis, model-gorgeous geologist Lana Hartman made the perfect scapegoat, and she deserved payback for stealing her boyfriend in college. But she’d gloat once she got what she came for.

  Swallowing down the lingering bitterness, Elizabeth refocused on the matter at hand. “You got what you wanted. Now, it’s time for you to keep your end of the bargain.”

  Who are you to make demands?

  Without cadence or inflection, his voice rang hollow in her head.

  “Uh, your partner?” she suggested drolly. She’d have preferred running for safety because she didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “You agreed to this deal. Don’t even think about reneging on it.”

  What if I don’t pay this debt? What can you, a mere human, possibly do?

  “Tell the Primarians,” she threatened. It was a bluff, of course, since she’d been complicit. Because of her and this creature, dozens of people got hurt, and one man nearly died. This morning when she checked on him, he was clinging to life. She questioned the alien doctor about his prognosis, but he’d shaken his head grimly, saying only if he survived, he’d never be the same.

  Do you think those lumbering warriors would come to your aid or seek to exact vengeance on your behalf? The creature startled her by making a high-pitched whining noise, his shoulders shaking. It took her a moment to figure out he was laughing. They’d have to outsmart me first, and, while brighter than you, they are no match for Dohkarian intellect, either. You followed because I allowed it. If I didn’t want you to find me, you wouldn’t have.

  “So you say. But if you’re as smart as all that, why did you need me? And why all the secrecy? Why couldn’t your enormous intellect figure out how to get past security, undetected, and carry out your sabotage on your own?”

  She had a lot of other questions. Why destroy the mine? Was his line about using the green stuff to enhance the blue orb merely bullshit? She’d given him what he wanted, a bypass code for the facial recognition scanners. Surely, someone would have noticed him walking around above or below ground, so how had he rigged the vast explosion sight unseen?

  Brimming with curiosity, she posed this last question to him. “Looking as you do, how did you get past the warriors at the security gates? You never said.”

  I didn’t because it isn’t for you to know. You should focus on saving your neck. You are guilty of conspiring against your own. There were countless injuries, among them several Primarians. Imagine their reaction, not to mention the other humans abiding here, and the thousands who hope to, if they find you had a hand in it? You are despicable and untrustworthy to have betrayed your own kind.

  Yeah, she definitely didn’t like the direction this conversation had taken. She pulled the proton blaster out of the waistband of her jeans. Thinking ahead, she’d filched it from an injured warrior after the mine exploded. Earth weapons didn’t stand a chance against Primarian armaments, and while she hadn’t seen him with a weapon in at least four meetings, the power of Waxman’s blue orb had to trump them both. She kept the blaster aimed at him, prepared to fire if he so much as twitched.

  “Just give me what you agreed to then I’ll happily leave this dark, dank cave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  Foolish creature, did you really expect me to simply hand it over? The technology is one of a kind and invaluable.

  “And you call me untrustworthy.” She raised her weapon higher. “Step aside. If you’re unwilling to give it to me, I’ll take it myself.”

  Go right ahead. The smell of melting flesh doesn’t bother me when I’m neutral. You might not feel the same way.

  Though unsure what he meant by neutral, the prospect of melting flesh gave her pause. Her eyes cut to the glowing ball on the stand behind him. “Disconnect the orb and hand it over,” she demanded.

  I think not.

  “Be prepared to meet some warriors, then, asshole.” Gun still trained on him, she slowly edged toward the tunnel to make her escape.

  He took a step forward.

  “Don’t move another inch, or I’ll disintegrate you.”

  He ignored her, drawing closer.

  Elizabeth eyed the distance between freedom and her double-crossing partner in crime. In a foot race, wearing low-heeled boots, she’d undoubtedly lose. This left only one option—she squeezed the trigger.

  A ray of luminescent uladite green streamed forth, her aim true. But at the last second, Waxman’s frame arched with unnatural fluidity, and he adroitly avoided the blast. The console behind him didn’t fare so well. As it vanished with a sizzle and a shower of sparks, Elizabeth ducked and covered her head.

  That was my communications system, fool.

  For once, his flat tone contained emotion. When she lowered her arms and glanced his way, she saw him open his palm. In it was another small blue orb identical to the one he’d used in the clearing and controlled only with his mind.

  The words “oh, shit,” echoed through the chamber as she bolted for the exit. Still several feet away, her panicked steps halted when fire explode on her back. Searing pain dropped her to her knees. Her situation went from bad to worse when the alien approached and bent over her.

  Stupid inferior creature. I outmatch you in every way—size, strength, and sheer brainpower—yet, you continue to challenge me. It speaks to the Primarians’ desperation that they would sink so low as to mate with your kind. In a few generations, you’ll have diluted their gene pool, and their illustrious species will be as pathetic as yours—if we don’t wipe out both of you first.

  His waxen hand sank into her hair, and he hauled her to her feet.

  “Let me go,” she cried, her fingers curling around his wrists, trying to lessen his painful grip. When he didn’t let up and only tugged harder, her next demand came out as a plea. “Release me, please.”

  Tsk. Tsk. Unfortunately, I can’t do that. You see, I’m hungry, and you serve another purpose I didn’t disclose. I believe you humans call it—lunch.

  When his hands fisted in her shirt collar and he pulled her up onto her toes, Elizabeth’s terrified screams were close to deafening. She struggled, clawing at the unyielding fingers gripping her, but she couldn’t break his hold. She kicked, but even the pointed tips of her boots had no impact.

  Next, he angled his head closer and opened his thin white lips. She prepared for his teeth piercing her flesh, but his mouth never touched
her throat; instead, it aligned with hers—a mere fraction of an inch above it.

  With a whoosh, the air rushed from her lungs as though sucked out by a powerful vacuum. She immediately became dizzy, and a strange numbness invaded her limbs. An instant later, spots appeared before her eyes.

  Not thinking clearly, it took her a moment to process the fact the spots weren’t spots at all, but his eyes turned from black to green. His skin was no longer deathly white but ivory with a rosy blush, and he suddenly had hair on his head. Not white, brown, blond, or black, but an unusual shade of reddish-purple—power-violet, to be precise—the exact color listed on the supply of boxed hair color she’d brought with her from Earth.

  Suddenly, it all clicked. “God help me, you’re a fucking parasite!”

  “Crudely put, but you caught on quickly, which is surprising for a dimwitted, unevolved subspecies,” the being observed blandly.

  She ignored yet another insult, her mind whirling in disbelief that, for the first time, it spoke, not in her head, but in a distinctly feminine voice eerily like her own.

  He opened his mouth again, and the penetrating green eyes, identical to her own, staring into her, flashed with eagerness as he sucked in another deep breath.

  When the creature spoke of feeding, she’d imagined monsters from old horror classics: zombies, werewolves, and Dracula. But this being didn’t take the tangible; what it stole couldn’t be replaced by transfusions or mended with stitches because what it took was the spark of her very existence. Unprepared to die, at least not without a fight, she thrashed and kicked, finding a small sense of satisfaction when she raked her nails down its cheek and heard a grunt of pain.

  She broke free but, in her weakened state, only crumpled facedown on the floor.

  “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

  How strange was it to hear condemnation in her own voice?

  The being grabbed her once more and flipped her over, then it crouched above her and resumed sucking in what little life she had left.

  Before her cognizance faded into blackness, she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness for what she hadn’t accomplished in her short life, but also remorse for so much she had.

  “ORLEON TO DOHKARIAN command.”

  As he awaited a response, he continued breaking down his command center, storing his computer systems in their respective cases and carefully stowing the viewing screens—the ones the human hadn’t destroyed, that was. He regretted not having the lighter, smaller, more advanced equipment at his disposal. Many of those components were encased in a special alloy that would have had a better chance at surviving a photon blaster shot at close range. It would have been easier for him to manage this solo mission with the best technology they had to offer, but he wasn’t allowed that luxury—or respect.

  From the beginning, his mission had inherent risks. The humans, unknown to Dohkarians until recently, were an unpredictable variable, and since they had the protection of Primaria, the operation had a low probability of success. His superiors expected it to be a dismal failure; he’d thought so, too—at first.

  “Why are you signaling on an obsolete frequency?” Tergen, the Dohkarian Exarch’s disapproving tone resonated loudly throughout the cave. “This is most irregular.”

  “I know, sir, but I had a small problem.”

  “Apparently,” he snapped. “You were to maintain communication silence during the initial stage of this mission. Does this mean you have had success, so soon?”

  “Not fully, no.”

  “Then your reason for breaking protocol had better be good.”

  “I felt it vital to inform you my position has been compromised and I must relocate. Once I’m reestablished, I will relay my new coordinates.”

  “The Primarian ship has left I assume?”

  “I, uh...no, sir. They remain in constant orbit of the planet.”

  “Fool! You risk detection not only of yourself, but our ship!” He blurted out a string of oaths hot enough to singe Orleon’s ears even from across the galaxy. “I told Sorin you were not ready for this.”

  “No, Tergen. I would not dare expose us. They have yet to deploy a security system like on their home world. There are vulnerable areas with dampening effects and the twin suns give off artifact, which often disrupts communication. I took precautions.”

  “Tergen?” he repeated. “So informal. Do you forget to whom you speak, little brother?”

  “I took precautions, Your Eminence,” he replied dutifully, though it galled him to have to subjugate himself to a sibling, especially one only minutes older. But Tergen was a favorite of their father and had been assigned a lofty position and title. Orleon, an unproven scientist with dozens of failed trials behind him, had been called up to prove his value to his people or be expelled. He’d chosen the role of scout, a position he’d had to claw and fight for against many. They were sent in first to explore, infiltrate, and observe then report their observations about other worlds, the people, and potential new prey. If unsuccessful and a scout was captured or perished, there were thousands ready to step in as a replacement. In essence, they were expendable. To Orleon, this illustrated how low he ranked in his father’s esteem.

  The single benefit of being a scout, and the reason he’d chosen this as his backup profession, was because they worked alone. This gave him the opportunity to continue his research, furtively, and with the hope of one day proving himself not only to his people but to Sorin, their esteemed father.

  “Have you made contact with a female host, yet?”

  “It happened today.”

  “What took you so long? You have been there for weeks.”

  “Preparations needed to be made,” he explained, struggling to retain his calm that Tergen could so easily disturb. “It is too soon to know the results, but I am optimistic and see no reason why we will not achieve our objective.”

  “We don’t have much time. Still, this is progress. Unless the Primarians intercept a communication. We haven’t lived undetected for a thousand generations to have our existence divulged by a panicked, inept scout. Do not make contact again until it is time to progress to the next stage of the plan. Is that clear, Orleon?”

  “Quite so, Exarch Tergen.”

  “It had better be. You do not wish to incur my wrath with further noncompliance. Worse, that of Sorin. Command out.”

  When the link terminated, Orleon disconnected the orb he’d used to power his signal scrambler. He’d so easily duped the human using it as a lure. He hadn’t lied; the orb was superior to what the Primarians offered, but it was merely a vehicle enhancing the true treasure inside. He walked to a large lead chest in the corner. When he opened the lid, the chamber flooded with light—not the blue of the orb, but uladite green.

  The mineral was the answer to the Dohkarians’ prayers. For decades, scientists like him had tried to recreate uladite without success. It was unique to Primaria, or so everyone thought. Now, it appeared they’d found a way to produce it off-world and had chosen to share their treasure with humans.

  He sniffed in derision. The Primarians weren’t as benevolent with their gift as it seemed. It was an enticement for the humans because they needed to breed their females to ensure their species’ survival.

  How was it different than his needs and those of all Dohkarians? Time and again in this vast Universe, one species preyed on another to get what they needed, and often, only the strongest, fastest, and, in his case, the cleverest survived.

  Blowing up the mine had been a means to an end. Tergen would be livid to know he’d been instrumental in its destruction, but it was all part of his master plan.

  He looked down at the ball hovering over his palm.

  Although ten years of exhaustive experimentation to recreate uladite had failed, it had led to the development of the blue orb—his defining achievement as a scientist. Before he could fully test it, he’d been forced to set aside his true calling to scout for his people.

&nbs
p; He probably should have shared its existence with his superior. But his brother would have swooped in and claimed it as his own, negating Orleon’s hard work, as well as finding a way to criticize and demoralize him as he never failed to do.

  Not again. Never again!

  In an uncharacteristic fit of temper, he hurled the glowing ball across the chamber. He regretted his rash action immediately when the wall exploded in a shower of sparks and rock fragments and the floor beneath him trembled. Diving for cover, he waited until the dust settled, much of it tinted green, then slowly got to his feet.

  For his people, he would make the sacrifice of spending the next half-annum on this dismal, unbearably hot planet. Success in his mission would make him a hero. If, in the process, he knocked his smugly superior, antagonistic sibling from his pedestal and replaced him as the favored one in his father’s eyes, all the better.

  He just had to hope, when this was over, after spending so much time alone, without any beings of intelligence to interact with—humans couldn’t be considered such by any stretch of the imagination—he wasn’t as dim-witted and mindless as they were.

  “Focus on the mission,” he muttered as he resumed packing. “With success, loneliness won’t be a problem.”

  Chapter One

  Terra Nova Colony, population 501...

  Heat encompassed Adria the instant she stepped outside into the damp morning air. She glanced up at the sky. The lesser of the twin suns was barely visible over the horizon and it had to be ninety degrees already. Her first inclination was to retreat to her cool, comfortable apartment and never leave. Her second, to kick herself for volunteering for a field assignment on a subtropical planet in the middle of their dry season to begin with.

  The term was a misnomer because, while the rainfall had been less than normal, it was wet. Muggy, she’d heard one human call it. Another referred to the moisture-laden atmosphere as oppressive. Still another was more creative comparing it to a steam bath in hell.