Untamed: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter 1

Haru

The curved cobalt walls reflect my grunts of exertion back upon me as I heave the barbell up from my chest in a smooth motion. I can just see the porthole looking out on the starry expanse of space with my peripheral vision on the left, and Dr. Modine on the right. She makes notes on her datapad, brow furrowed with concentration as she takes in all the information relayed by the sticky electrode pads all over my naked torso.

Besides my straining groans and Dr. Modine's typing, there's also the rhythmic hum of the superluminal engines as they propel us on our faster than light jump. Dr. Modine doesn't seem to mind that there's only a few feet of carbon alloy between us and a horrific, suffocating death, but she's a human. Humanity has been exploring the stars far longer than my people, the Odex, have. Perhaps their species has developed a genetic resistance the the anxiety of space travel?

Modine is a female of her species, which means, among other things, she has appealing lumps on her chest and her hips flare out in a display of her ability to rear strong children. Odex females only have those chest lumps—breasts—when they are actively nursing. But human females are fertile most of the time, and thus use their breasts as a mating display.

Not that I want to mate with Dr. Modine, even if she is an attractive member of her species. And it has nothing to do with the fact that she's married to our pilot, Zylan. No, the doctor and I have a more complicated relationship based upon mutual respect. I couldn't abide by the dishonorable acts of the Ataxia Coalition and their biological warfare, and Dr. Modine was instrumental in stopping that. But even before that, she treated me like an equal, despite the many prejudices my people face.

One of the main stereotypes of my folk is that we are prone to violence. I can't deny that we do have both a propensity and an aptitude for it. But those of us who keep to the Old Ways have known for some time that the Ataxia Coalition has exacerbated our natural tendencies. While the technology they have shared did improve the lives of many of our people, the cost has been too high in my estimation. The Coalition demands eight years of service from each and every one of us. Often those assignments are quite dangerous, and send us directly to the front lines of the most ferocious battles. Less than a third of us ever finish the tour of duty, and those that do are often encouraged to remain enlisted.

It's hard to fault the Coalition for using us in such a manner, at least if you keep morality out of the equation. We Odex are three meters tall, weigh as much as many livestock animals, and are reknowned for our strength and resilience.

I was less than a year into my first tour when I was transferred to the mining planet of Imas, where the deadly virus was being developed. They sent me there because there was a chance I might be infected, and I was disposable because I caused problems. I asked too many questions, and the Coalition isn't too fond of lackeys who demonstrate too much cunning.

I'm happy that they did so, however, because that's where I met Minerva Modine. She's my friend—maybe my only friend in the whole galaxy. She doesn't treat me any differently because I'm an Odex.

“Amazing, Haru.” She shakes her head in wide eyed disbelief as she examines her tablet. “Last week you were bench pressing eight hundred pounds. Today you're up to an even ton.”

I set the bar back on the rack and sit up, panting for breath. The bar contains micro gravity generators, which can be dialed to a precise weight. If she says I'm benching a ton, then I'm benching a ton.

“Not bad, but I think I can do a little more.”

She scoffs, her mouth falling open in exasperation.

“Not bad? Haru, that's just a ridiculous amount of power packed into your frame. A human or even a Vakutan of similar mass wouldn't be nearly as strong. It's like your strength is increasing exponentially with training.”

I grunt and suck down an entire cylinder of water. 

“Odex don't have the obsession with physical training that many of the other sapients do. We have no need of it, other than power blade techniques and the crude horde strategies the Coalition drums into us.”

“Well, frankly, I'm glad that they don't, because I can't imagine the Coalition having legions of soldiers like you.”

I stand up and tower over her. My body shape has been altered dramatically since I came on board this ship. My shoulders and neck are as thick and broad as ever, but now my torso tapers down to my hips in a v pattern. Even under my azure fur, you can see the lines of musculature, which is a rarity for Odex. Like I said, we don't train and eat a lot of meat.

The door to the gym opens, and we both glance that way. A melon sized ball of chitinous plates rolls into the room, then unfurls into something between a crustacean and an insect. The creature's compound eyes are implacable, as ever, but it seems to have become entangled in long green grasses and brightly colored flowers.

“Minerva, has Zylan's little pet been in the hydroponics garden again?”

As if on cue, a lanky Alzhon strolls into the room, a smile fixed on his face that just screams 'all is well with the galaxy as long as Zylan is at its center, and all is well with the galaxy.' I'm used to the garish wardrobe Zylan favors, but today he's gone even a little bit more over the top. He's wearing a grass skirt and a flower necklace, and then I realize that Kleid is 'dressed' the same.

“For the last time, he's my partner, not my pet.” Zylan beams a smile at Dr. Modine. “How you doing, gorgeous?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Zylan and Modine engage in the saliva swapping ritual they are so fond of, and then she holds him at arm's length. “What in the world are you wearing?”

“It's traditional Hawaiian garb. There's this great human tradition called a Luau I just found out about this morning, and you get drunk and roast a cloven hooved herd animal and dance the night away. I've scheduled one for now.”

“Zylan, honey, you need to slow down on your consumption of my culture, all right? I think it's sweet that you want to learn about humanity, but you seem to be picking up all of our worst habits.”

“Explain this 'luau'” I loom over Zylan and he swallows visibly as he gazes up at me. While Zylan has ostensibly accepted me as his crew mate, there's still some residual distrust, which is only natural since every other Odex in the galaxy probably would try to kill him. Sometimes I'm tempted to do so myself, for different reasons.

“Ah, it's like a party with a dress code and a specific menu.” He sizes me up and grins. “I bet we can rig you up a grass skirt and a lei, no problem.”

“I don't want a grass skirt, and have no interest in sex at this time.”

Minerva claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh, while Zylan cocks his head to the side.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I think Haru has misunderstood lei for lay, if you get my meaning.”

Zylan looks at Minerva as if she's said something silly.

“I know that, I just mean how can you not be interested in sex?”

I wave him off and sneer.

“Bah. Human females offer me nothing. What's really needed is a good four hundred pound Odex female, with long tufts of fur you can really get a hold of.”

Zylan pales noticeably, while Minerva chuckles.

“He's messing with you, dear.”

“What? Did I just get burned by an Odex of all--”

The whistling tone of an all-ship communique grabs our attention. The Penetrator is not a huge ship, and the environment is rather informal, so our commander Gurtal doesn't use the all ship communication system very often. When he does, it often means trouble.

“All hands, report to the bridge immediately.”

Zylan sighs and takes off his lei.

“Well, there goes tonight's luau.”

We make our way to the bridge, and there are several times I have to duck under an overhead support strut. The Penetrator is a top of the line prototype assault vessel, but it was designed with a human crew in mind. Thus, it can be a tight squeeze for those of us of a larger persuasion.

Th e bridge is set up in a half circle, with consoles forming the outer rim and a ten foot wide viewscreen dominating the far wall. Windows compromise structural integrity,  so our ship has very few of them indeed. But the screen makes for a virtual windshield to peer out of. Right now we can see that the stars have ceased to be streaks and are back to being twinkling sprites. So, we've dropped out of light speed.

Gurtal is a Vakutan, a scaly red warrior species who used to be in the same niche as Odex are in the Coalition. But whereas our species was enticed with technology and riches, the Vakutan were made, a genetically engineered slave race. Naturally, they rankled under Coalition rule and won their freedom generations ago. To this day, they are the most loyal and zealous of the Trident Alliance soldiers.

Our commander is a lot like Zylan, in that he's way too laid back for his own good—most of the time. Today, however, he seems uncharacteristically grim. His Companion wife, Xana, hovers nearby, concern knitting her brow. She has one hand on Jyt'lei's shoulder as if to comfort our communications officer.

Jyt'lei is a half Pi'rell, half human woman who used to work in Alliance intelligence before a corrupt superior had her framed and exiled to the prison planet of Jurtik. We don't know each other well as of yet, but I admire her skill in combat as well as her bravery. She, like everyone else aboard this ship, is Pack. And if a member of my pack is in pain, then I am honor bound to find out why and alleviate it if I can.

“Zylan.” Gurtal fixes his golden eyed stare on our helmsmen. “I need you to calculate a super luminal jump to Syfer.”

“Syfer?” Zylan purses his lips in thought. “That's a hell of a jump, Gurt, and you're always getting on my ass about fuel consumption.”

“Never mind that for now.” Gurtal waves away Zylan's concerns. “Just make the calculations. We need to get to Syfer ASAP.”

“What business do we have on Syfer station, Gurtal?” 

He turns his ridged face toward me, apparently surprised I spoke. It's not something I make a habit of, even to Modine. Instead of speaking, he just stares at me for a moment before turning his gaze upon Jyt. She sighs and looks to each of us as she speaks.

“My sister, Victoria--”

“What, you have a sister?”

“Shut up, Zylan. Go on, Jyt.”

Jyt shoots Zylan a black look before speaking again.

“My sister Victoria, contacted me recently. She….has become concerned about the company she works for, Advanced Munitions Dynamics.”

“Whoa, your sister works for AMD?” Gurtal snarls at Zylan and he holds up his hands. “Sorry, boss man, but that's kind of a big deal. They're one of the biggest arms manufacturers in the whole Alliance.”

“You said she's worried about AMD, Jyt.” Minerva leans forward in her seat and frowns. “Does that mean the company is in trouble?”

“No.” Jyt shakes her head. “It means the company is the trouble. Tori's a top notch programmer, a true master of coding. She's been working for AMD ever since she was drafted right out of tech school. But recently she came across something that terrified her.”

Gurtal rubs his chin in thought.

“What terrified her?”

“I don't know. She was afraid to tell me over an open comm channel. Tori was supposed to contact me yesterday, but I haven't heard from her. When I called her office, they told me she hasn't been seen for days. Frankly, I'm afraid that AMD did something to her.”

Jyt hugs herself, and casts her gaze to the floor. Xana comes up and embraces her from behind.

“Well, all right.” Zylan rubs his hands together and then starts making the jump calculations. “Let's go rescue Jyt's sister.”

“I'm always ready to fight.” I clench my fist tightly, and my knuckles pop with a volume that my companions apparently find disturbing. My gaze locks with Jyt's, and I bring my fist up over my primary heart. “I pledge upon my honor that I will find your sister, or die trying.”

Jyt seems surprised, but pleased, by my oath. She nods solemnly, and gently pries herself out of Xana's grasp.

Destiny is calling, and I will not be found wanting.