Alien Raider's Prize: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter 1

Sangur

Jagged mountains rear up around me like the spine of some ancient colossal beast. Their snow capped tops reflect the fading afternoon sun which has blasted and scorched the surface of Udicio into its rugged shape. Vegetation is scarce in the arid plateaus and deserts, but abundant here in a river valley. Using the term river loosely of course, since the piddling stream snaking through the canyon barely reaches my ankle spurs.

I stop and sink to my knees beside it, cupping my ebon skinned hands to bring the water to my parched lips. This stream is potable, though many are not due to the toxic minerals which seep into the aquifer. Fortunately our city/fortress of Arkh’ta is located near an abundant mineral water spring. 

This world seeks to reject us just as the rest of the galaxy does, yet we have managed to thrive here. To be a Reaper is to have all hands turned against you. Sometimes, even your own kin. There’s not enough water on this or any world to wash away the blood figuratively clinging to my hands. Two weeks ago I slew the leader of my Raiding party.

I hadn’t intended to challenge him for leadership, I was simply trying to point out that the Helios Combine shuttle limping along at sub luminal speeds was too good of an opportunity to be true. He grew angry, we struggled, and he fell on his own blade during the fight.

Using my new leadership position, I ordered my helmsman to make a super luminal calc back to Udicio. And not a moment too soon, because three fully armed Helios Cruisers jumped in from an FTL jump. If we’d engaged the shuttle, we likely would have all died.

It’s rare for a Reaper of less than thirty summers to lead his own Raiding party. It’s even rarer for one to be commended for avoiding a battle. Yet, both of those things have happened to me. Sangur, son of Visc, Bane of the Canyons. My title will grow longer with my exploits, of course. Our clan chief’s full title takes more than five minutes to say out loud, so he often abbreviates it unless performing a ceremony.

But Mung is not above his own pretensions. Today he has tasked me with bringing back a Spine Back hide. Like other worlds, Udicio has shaped the invasive species into a unique form radically different than can be found elsewhere—other than the trademark spines, of course.

As far as I know, Udicio is the only world ‘lucky’ enough to sport winged spine backs. Their gift of flight means they are smaller, less powerful than others of their ilk, but they make up for that lack with venomous fangs and an ability to spit said venom up to a hundred feet. More so if they vomit from a height.

The crimson sun kisses the horizon, fat and blurry with haze from the day’s heat. Soon it will slip below the craggy peaks to the west, plunging Udicio into the pitch blackness of the moonless night, broken only by the cosmic dust of starlight.

Running my gaze up the craggy, nigh sheer cliff face, I spot several yawning cave mouths, their entrances melted and pooled like heated wax. The Spine Backs use their acidic venom to tunnel directly into the rock. Any moment now, they will stir and groggily crawl out into the fading sun to stretch their wings and shake off the day’s torpor.

That is when I will strike. Spine Backs are fearsome foes, and I have no compulsions against making my task easier. Warriors thrive on a challenge, particularly Reaper warriors, but a good Raid leader knows that there’s no such thing as an unfair advantage. 

If the galaxy were fair, in any way shape or form, my people would not be exiled to this sun blasted sandy rock in a distant corner of the Badlands. If the galaxy were fair, we would still be luminous Ishani and not the grotesque mockeries of our former selves we have become.

Fairness is an illusion, a concept or idea thought up by the weak. And I am not weak.

I perk up at a low, undulating screech from inside one of the caverns. Reaching behind me, I draw my bow and nock an arrow. Such primitive weapons are necessary, because the retort of a firearm would bring the entire colony down on my head.

Besides, the arrow tip is shatterrock crystal with an overlay of steel. Normally inert enough that it can be hammered into dust without a problem, when shatterrock is put under pressure as it is in its metallic sheath it becomes highly volatile. A single arrowhead, placed correctly, is enough to bring a full sized beast down.

A cruelly curved yellow beak thrusts out of the darkness, a shadowy morass behind it. Slowly, moving with the aftereffects of its torpor, the spindly but deadly beast drags itself out of the hole in the rock face. Its wings flare out and flap slowly, swelling from their shriveled state into sanguine usefulness.

But this one will never fly again. I draw back on my bowstring, made of the entrails of this very species, muscles flexing and sinew crackling. The pull strength is equivalent to two hundred pounds. A Pi’rell, Grolgath, or human could never hope to use it effectively, but an Odex or a Vakkutan might.

I draw in a breath very slowly, counting to ten as my lungs inflate and my belly distends. Then I let it out in the same manner, slowing my heart rate and increasing my chances for an accurate strike.

Just as I draw a bead on the still sluggish beast, I spot something in the darkening skies. At first I think it’s one of the spine back brood taken flight early, but then I realize it’s much, much higher in altitude than they can hope to achieve.

A black oval, somewhat akin to a yard fowl’s egg on a grand scale. There are tiny rectangles of light upon its otherwise sheer surface as it floats down toward the surface. Thrusters fire from time to time to help slow its descent.

A ship. I don’t recognize the design, nor do I see any obvious weapons, but I’m still troubled. We Reapers of the Udicio clan have three space stations we obtained from the Combine which constantly scan the star system for enemies…or prey.

Somehow, this ship slipped past them. Stealth tech? It seems likely, but the problem with stealth tech is it only works on machines. The naked eyes still perceive what they perceive. I’ve heard tales of a ship called the Penetrator which can fully cloak, bending light about its hull to become practically invisible, but it sounds like an old dotard’s tale and was quickly forgotten.

I  must tell my clan Chief Vurun about this matter, but I cannot return to him empty handed. Drawing my bow back once more, I aim just below the spine back’s bulbous fringed head, on its vulnerable neck.

The bowstring thrums as I let my missile loose. Streaking faster than the eye can catch, it impales itself to the fletchings on the Spine Back’s head.

There’s a sizzle, a crackling like muted flame, and then the spine back’s head drops off. Its body falls from the cliff a moment later, tumbling down the steep cliff and landing in a heap in the piddling stream at the bottom of the ravine.

I dash over to it, slinging my bow over my shoulder. Working as swift as I can manage while still taking care not to rupture its venom sacs, I skin the beast with a power knife. Normally I would stretch the bloody hide out and let it dry before trying to transport it, but there’s no time.

Stuffing the wet and fragrant hide into my pack, teeth grinding with chagrin that I have no household slaves to clean out the leather case later, I cast a glance up at the remaining caverns. I must away soon. The smell of kindred blood will stir the creatures out of their torpor faster than they normally would.

I jog over the rough terrain back to my hover bike, passing rocky outcropping sculpted into swooping shapes by the relentless wind. Many striations are visible in a variety of hues; the expected yellows and browns, but also lavender, orange, and even green. Our elders tell us that long ago Udicio was covered by vast oceans, and indeed one often comes across the fossilized remains of what appear to be sea creatures.

Leaping on my hover bike, I kick start the engine to life and speed along the dry cracked earth toward Arkh’ta. It’s almost invisible until you’re right up on it, but for the trails of smoke from cooking fires rising into the evening sky.

Arkh’ta lies in a great fissure in Udicio’s surface, torn by a massive tectonic upheaval centuries, or even millennia ago. Hundreds of feet wide, and twice as deep, we have carved our dwellings into the rock face itself.

I skim past the lower levels, angling the nose of my bike almost straight down. Here the slave populace make their homes in the hottest part of the settlement. The deeper one goes, the cooler it becomes, which is why the higher ranking of our society live near the bottom.

Bioluminescent fungus and algae provide phantasmic illumination, supplemented by more conventional electronic lighting. We harvest some of the algae to create glowing war paint. Not useful for stealth  missions, but terrifying to our foes in open battle. On Udicio, we have learned to adapt and turn every disadvantage into an advantage.

Heads turn as I arrive, because the memory of my promotion is still fresh. I relish their attention, especially that of the tiny female Reaper population. Despite popular conceptions about us, the females of our species hold enormous power because they have the ability to breed. Though birthrates are low, and female birthrates more so, they still hold an exalted status in our society. If one of them decides you are worthy to breed with, it is a great honor.

Not that I’m expecting myself to be chosen, despite my recent success. Reaper females pick the oldest, most scarred, most experienced warriors because they have survived and proven their strength.

There are many hybrid Reapers in our number as well. So long as they can prove themselves worthy, they are given the same rights and freedoms as the rest of us. Indeed, my maternal great grandmother was a Pi’rell, though you’d never know it to look upon me. Reaper genetics tend to present strongly in endomorphic matters.

I leap off the hover bike, leaving it running, and dash toward Chief Vurun’s cavern  home. The guards out front are expecting me to return with  my prized spine back hide, so they don’t bother challenging me upon entry.

Our Chief sits upon his seat of power, a naked human woman chained by the neck to the stout timber leg. She strokes his leg sensually, resting her soft cheek against his thigh as her brown eyes stare intently at my worried expression.

“Sangur, I see you have returned. Do you have my hide?”

Vurun must be more than three hundred years old, his midsection grown thick from mostly garrison duty and with deep lines running across his bone spur covered visage. But I’ve seen him move, and know he’s still a capable warrior even if he’s slowed down a bit. His red eyes still sparkle, hinting at the keen and shrewd mind behind them.

“I do, my Chief, but I also bring you something else.”

I hand off the hide to one of his household slaves while Vurun strokes his chin thoughtfully. One of his hands absent mindedly pats the head of the woman at his feet.

“And what do you bring? From your grim countenance, I assume I won’t like the answer.”

“There is a ship, my Chief, vectoring in for a landing on the surface. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Vurun’s face grows severe, and he calls out to his second.

“Lurc, check with our stations in orbit. See if they have spotted this interloper as well.” He turns back to me. “Where do you suppose it was going to land?”

“I would estimate it will settle near the Thunder Cliffs, my Chief.”

Vurun arches an eyebrow, then nods.

“That is a wise place to settle down. Whoever our enemies are, they are not without keen minds. That makes them doubly dangerous.

“Chief Vurun,” interjects the wiry, lean second. “Our stations don’t report any ships in the sector.”

Vurun’s countenance grows grave, and he gestures toward me.

“Sangur, take your party and investigate this ship…but do not attack until we know their intentions. This could be a clever ruse to let out guard down. Was the ship armed?”

“I don’t think so,  My Chief.”

“Then I’m more concerned than ever. Be wary, boy. Now go.”

I clap my hand to my shoulder in salute and then speed off to collect my party. What an honor, to be chosen to do this deed.

I shall not be found wanting. If these interlopers are hostile, their bones will lie like jewels upon the breast of the desert.