Chapter Two

CAS

“A toast to all my brothers and sisters, the undefeated Keepers of Yaria and the finest warriors across all the galaxies. Huten daor!”

“Huten daor!”

The ship reverberated with the Yarian battle cries of all the Keepers on board. We raised our brass goblets to Prince Jethro, some of us picking our drunken asses off the ground to complete our toast. The prince wasn’t too far off from total drunkenness himself. He had climbed on top of one of the giant souza barrels to address us, teetering dangerously on the edges.

“Drink up, my friends! The party is only beginning. I have arranged for Yaria’s most beautiful whores to receive you when we land at the base. I handpicked them myself.” The prince jerked his arm forward once more, splashing the front row with his drink. “Do not fret, sisters, you have not been forgotten. You will have your share, too! Now, to all, I bid you a good night. Let us drain every barrel on this ship before we return home!”

I refilled my goblet and joined Jethro as he leaped off the top of the barrel.

“How goes it, Cas?” Jethro leaned against the barrel, draining his goblet. Around us, the music resumed from the makeshift band, headed by one of the veteran Keepers. Dancers undulated to the jovial tune, sweeping the floors with a traditional Yarian jig. “What an evening.”

“Aye. I think it’s been one of our best nights so far,” I agreed, nodding my chin at him. “But what’s the matter with you? You’re barely halfway through one container of alcohol, and you’re about to go down like a deck of yzbani cards.”

“You can kiss my royal ass.”

Jethro wiped the souza off his dark beard with the back of his hand, grinning. He dropped to one knee and started struggling with the empty barrel. Smirking, I poured some thick brown liquor from my goblet into his.

“Good man.” Jethro slurred. He staggered to his feet, signaling for me to follow him. “Come here, Cas. I want to show you something.”

I grabbed another drink for myself before following Jethro to the bottom deck of the spaceship. As Jethro was the only one who was authorized to access this level, he led the way. We passed through a series of secured doors, each gate thicker and more resilient than the last. We didn’t exchange a single word along the way. The iron heels of our boots clinking against the floors and the humming ship equipment made up for the lack of conversation.

Eventually, we reached the vault behind the last gate. As Jethro keyed in his password, I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, only looking up when the light next to the vault flashed green. When the door beeped twice, Jethro thrust his drink into my hand and began to turn the door handle counterclockwise.

Jethro wrenched the door open, pulling it as far back as it would go. The chilled vault housed a pale wooden box on a gilded display stand. A crisscrossing web of red laser sensors guarded the small container.

The prince stumbled into the vault. He disabled the sensors with a remote and reached for the box. He walked over to me, balancing the box carefully in his palm as he ran his hands over the Yarian engravings carved into the sides.

I set down our drinks, wiped my hands on my sides, and flipped open the latch.

“Isn’t it something?” Jethro breathed.

We peered into the box, admiring the crimson cube perched on the silk lining. The rock was no larger than a seashell. Jethro lifted the box to his jawline, inspecting the cube carefully from different angles.

“Those Thortonese bastards will never dare set foot in Yarian territory again,” he declared. He placed the open box back on the podium, but his eyes never left the container. “It won’t be long before the news of the massacre on Thorton tonight spreads throughout the quadrant.”

“Aye, I hear you.”

“We are at a watershed moment. I can feel it.” Jethro shut his eyes briefly and puffed out his chest. His eyes snapped back open, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “Who could be a more deserving heir to the throne than the one who singlehandedly led the mission to retrieve the Doomstone?”

“King Izbul will be pleased with your work.”

The Thorton mission was a definite success, possibly the Keepers’ greatest victory in all of Yarian history. Only two Keepers perished in battle, a practically negligible figure. Still, as much as I wanted to embrace the victory, I suspected that problems were on the horizon.

The mission had few to no problems. It was almost too easy to recover the Doomstone.

Kaiva, the ringleader of the Thortonese marauders, was notorious for her brutal tactics, a lethal band of fighters, and an unmatched ability to escape capture. The marauders were highly trained. They had to move past Keepers stationed at the Yarian palace to get their hands on the Doomstone. They exterminated fourteen of our brethren in the process.

The most recent attack of the Thortonese came thirty years earlier. Fifty Keepers lost their lives defending the palace walls that night. One of the Keepers was my father, Ezra, who left behind a wife and a 3-year-old.

Keeping the thirty-year-old bloodshed in mind, we set out to recover our property anticipating carnage of a similar magnitude. But when we got to Kaiva’s lair, only six guards circled the premises. All the guards were taken out in less than a minute, and we sliced through the other guards inside without incident. Kaiva and a few of her allies managed to flee the scene, but we took the Doomstone into our possession and returned to the ship. The Doomstone was our only objective. It would be up to the Intergalactic Bureau of Investigation to track down Kaiva.

It was logical to question Kaiva’s lackluster efforts to protect the Doomstone. Shouldn’t the Thortonese expect retaliation? The shock on Kaiva’s face when we barged into her lair was both alarming and satisfying. She should have been prepared.

But at the end of the day, a victory was a victory. It wasn’t my place to say anything, and I didn’t want to put a damper on the Keepers’ good spirits. If the Yarian royalty was content, I could be too.

“I cannot wait to see the look on my father’s face when I return the Doomstone,” Jethro mumbled, stepping forward to close the lid of the box. “For now, we should head upstairs again and rejoin the festivities.”

When we returned to the party, a rowdy group of goblet-wielding Keepers ambushed Jethro. Dahry and Godwin hoisted the prince over their shoulders and whisked him off for a round of our favorite drinking game. I was about to join them when I spotted Splynter across the room. I decided to spend some time with him instead.

Like always, Splynter was alone in a corner, looking like an island of misery among the festivities. He sat near the last window, staring out into space while taking periodic sips from his flask. The oracle was one of the oldest in our senior ranks and a walking eccentricity, from his milky-white eye to his peppered ponytail and long, braided beard. No one knew exactly how old Splynter was, but he kept himself in exemplary physical shape. I was sure the grooves on his forehead and protruding veins on his biceps were older than any three neophyte Keepers combined.

“Bashduk vala,” I called out to Splynter, using a respectful Yarian greeting.

As Splynter glanced over his shoulder, he revealed a continent-shaped burn that covered more than half of his face and neck. Through time, the raised scars had turned brown and puckered, easily mistaken for a mask from a distance. Considering his years on the field, the Keeper displayed a collection of war wounds all over his body. Oddly enough, the burn on his face was accidental and the permanent consequence of working on a faulty electric pipe.

“Vala,” Splynter grunted, skewing away from me.

“May I join you?”

“If you must.”

I interpreted his response as a yes, sitting down on a barrel next to him.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re in the mood to rejoice.”

“I would swallow dirt before joining these impressionable fools.” Splynter bared a shiny set of silver teeth implants. “Why should we celebrate when imminent danger is upon us?”

Cold unease shuddered down my spine. Splynter could feel it, too.

“What is this danger you speak of?”

“Damned if I know. I don’t have all the answers, boy.” Splynter sniffed, taking a swig from his flask. “But it won’t be long now. The night is far from over.”

“What else do you see?” I encouraged him. “Is this something we need to bring to Jethro’s attention?”

“No,” Splynter barked. He put his flask away into a coat pocket and looked me dead in the eye. “We must not intervene in the game of destiny. We might alter our fate and make it worse than we imagine. Now out with it, boy. What is it you seek? I don’t have all night.”

Resting an arm on my knee, I glanced around me and leaned in close enough to smell the souza on Splynter’s breath. “I was hoping you could do a reading for me.”

Splynter glared at me with his good eye. Its white counterpart was unfocused and appeared to be staring directly past my shoulder. He brooded for a few moments, nostrils flaring with every jagged intake of air. Finally, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Very well,” Splynter relented, reaching into his heavy sack. He propped up his leg against the windowsill and pulled out a rusty cylindrical tin. “Ask away.”

“I’m not sure how to say it,” I confessed, rubbing under my chin. “I know it seems childish, but this question has haunted me for too many nights. I have to know if flaura are real or not. Do they exist, or are they nothing more than feel-good folklore?”

Yarians were firm believers in the concept of flaura – lifelong mates bound by a spiritual connection. From an analytical standpoint, the idea appeared to be wishful thinking. On the other hand, everyone I knew believed in the flaura nonsense, my mother included.

Traditionally, when Keepers find their flaura, also known as settling for a mate, they are allowed to retire somewhere in the kingdom or on Luna Maris, one of Yaria’s moons and home to its Keepers. The kingdom gives compensation to married Keepers based on their field experience. Once they settle down, they are released from obligatory service and encouraged to start creating the next generation of Keepers.

More and more Keepers from my generation were choosing to spend the rest of their lives on the field, going through temporary partners like jugs of souza. Active Keepers lived a fast-paced life fueled on adrenaline and sexual debauchery. The lifestyle was addictive. I had never pegged myself as the type to fall for any of the flaura nonsense. As a matter of fact, I was known as one of the most depraved of the lot.

And yet, here I was, asking the question.

“Flaura?” Splynter snickered as his good eye twinkled. “How sentimental of you. Who would have thought you would ever come to me for a flaura reading?”

“Yes, it’s hilarious. But you still haven’t answered me.”

In response, Splynter opened the cylinder and tipped out a small mound of ghania leaves into the lid. He poured a bit of souza into the top, swirling it until fiery triple-lobed leaves floated to the surface. I folded my fingers, watching the oracle at work.

Splynter closed his good eye and tilted his head back. While he gripped his knees, humming throatily, his unfocused milky eye began to twitch and roll around. Without warning, the restless eye stopped moving and ended with Splynter looking directly at me.

He snatched up the lid and drained the liquid in a single gulp. He violently coughed as he held the cover up to his face and opened his working eye. I craned my neck toward him, peering into the lid.

“Move out of the way, puzo. You’re blocking my light.” Splynter examined the leaves, nodding wisely. “I see something in here.”

“What is it?”

“I see a cross,” said Splynter plainly, showing me the lid.

If I narrowed my eyes to slits, the wet leaves stuck to the bottom barely resembled a cross. If I left my eyes open, they looked like a tangled mass of vegetation.

“Is that it?” I scoffed, arching an eyebrow. “That’s all you have for me?”

“Aye.”

“When will I meet her? Better yet, how will I know it’s her?”

“All your answers are in the leaves.”

“Azgoth’s beard, you’re vague. What am I supposed to do with information like that?”

“Do with it what you will.”

“Right, thanks for nothing,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “But do you really think she’s out there?”

“She is,” Splynter confirmed. He rinsed out the lid and packed the paraphernalia into his sack again. “Now the real question is, if you want to find her, are you prepared to let everything go?”

“That’s a fair question, but it’s one for which I don’t have the answer.”

Splynter twisted the end of his beard, gazing at me thoughtfully. “Something else that disturbs you, doesn’t it? Have you no concerns about Twanda?”

My shoulders went rigid at the mention of her name.

“Thank you for your time.” I hopped off the barrel and cleared my throat, turning away from him. “Take it easy, brother.”

I was on my way to fetch myself another drumstick when a Keeper intercepted me. My eyes fell right to her pendulous, juicy breasts, which appeared to be spilling out of her unzipped uniform. The Keeper pulled back her hood, running her hand through her short crop of snow-white hair.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“That depends.” I grinned. “What can I do for you, Indira?”

“Krystal!” Indira waved at a group of female Keepers dancing by the band.

The prettiest one broke away from the pack. Krystal flipped neon pink curls over her shoulders and sauntered towards us. Her mesmerizing ass looked like two full moons, the skin-tight fabric of her uniform swallowed by each defined cheek.

“This may be hard to believe, but Krystal here has managed to survive almost two and a half decades without being intimate with anyone but herself.”

“Is that so?”

Krystal blushed, tearing her eyes away from me.

“I propose we do something to help Krystal out with her quandary.” Indira cozied up to Krystal, drawing playful circles on her neck with her fingertips. “Tonight is a night for firsts. Isn’t that right, Krystal?”

She nodded, looking up at us with a shy smile. I cleared my head and focused on her deep azure stare. As I felt my eyes begin to glaze over, I could hear Krystal’s thoughts in my ear.

Those eyes. Take me. Now.

As I tuned out of her scrambled thoughts, a half smile formed on my lips. My telepathic skills were rusty, but the fleeting successes worked well enough for combat. I had acquired the ability from Shamrock, one of the older Keepers, when I was a teenager.

Telepathy was an intricate skill only a handful of Keepers had ever fully mastered, and I still had a long journey in front of me. I tried to practice the skill whenever the opportunity presented itself. Without another word, Indira nudged me forward and took control of Krystal’s wrist. We ducked into one of the empty sleeping chambers, bolting the door shut.

Indira sat Krystal down on the edge of the lower bunk and sat down next to her. Krystal tucked her hair behind her ears, blushing furiously under the intensity of our stares. Recognizing Krystal’s nervousness, Indira took the lead. She reached for Krystal’s chin gingerly and pulled her closer, softly kissing her lips.

Krystal’s eyes fell shut, stirring for a moment before returning the kiss. She started slowly, the cot sheets crumpling under her fingers as she savored the taste of Indira’s sweet, full lips. My cock stirred at the titillating scene. I leaned against the bed post, stroking my hardening bulge as I indulged in the voyeuristic view.

There was a flash of pink as Indira slipped her tongue into Krystal’s mouth. Krystal groaned into the kiss, flicking her tongue lightly against Indira’s. Smiling through the wet tangle of their tongues, Indira took Krystal’s hand, guiding it into the unzipped opening of her uniform.

Krystal looked visibly tentative. She cupped her hand around Indira’s full breast, her throat quivering. She began to massage the globe curiously, pinching Indira’s dark, pert nipple between her fingers.

Indira broke away from the kiss, thrusting her chest out. “Not bad at all.”

She slid a hand behind Krystal’s head, lowering it towards her other breast. Again, Krystal obliged. Tending to the globe with both fingers, she caught Indira’s nipple in her mouth.

Dimples appeared in Krystal’s cheeks as she sucked, her hungry eyes peering up at Indira for approval. Indira turned to me, her coy smile stretching wider as she glanced down at Krystal. She inched to her right, making room for me on the bed.

Krystal’s breathing sped up as she remained sandwiched between us. With her newfound confidence, she kissed me with twice the intensity, all the while continuing to rub Indira’s thigh. I scraped my tongue against the roof of her mouth lightly, leading her hand to my bulge. Krystal took the hint. She sucked on my bottom lip, undoing my trousers with shaky hands. As Krystal revealed my rock-hard cock, Indira worked on the front of Krystal’s uniform. She pulled the zipper down to Krystal’s navel and eased it off her shoulders, exposing Krystal’s chest.

The half-naked women slunk off the bed and dropped to the floor, the tops of their uniforms hanging from their sides. I kicked off my trousers and stretched out my arms behind me, the pole between my legs taunting them. Surprisingly, Krystal made the first move, crawling toward me. She dragged her tongue from the end of my shaft to the moist head of my cock, keeping her eyes glued to me the entire time. I played with her earlobe, encouraging her.

Indira joined her between my legs. She cradled my sack in her hands and leaned forward, her tongue lapping up and down the length of my erection. I grunted, my cock throbbing from their determination to please me. Everything about them was different from each other – their curves, the shape of their breasts, all the way down to their olive and golden brown skin. The vivid contrast between these strong warriors on their knees, nursing my cock, was almost enough to make me come right then and there.

I removed the rest of Krystal’s uniform, motioning for her to get up on the bed. Indira took over between my legs. I lay back down, lifting Krystal off the floor and positioning her thighs by my ears. She lowered her wet pussy onto my mouth tentatively, the grip of her warm thighs tightening around my face.

As Indira devoured my cock, filling the room with sloppy smacking noises, I ran my tongue along the sticky lips brushing against the tip of my nose. I took a deep whiff of untouched sex, shoving my tongue between the lips greedily. Krystal whipped her hair head back, squealing.

I squeezed her ample ass and pried her cheeks apart. But as my fingers began teasing the puckered crevice between the crack, a shrill siren resonated across the chamber. All of us reacted simultaneously. Krystal rolled off me, and my cock slipped out of Indira’s gaping mouth with a soft pop. Exchanging startled looks, we frantically threw our clothes on and darted out of the chamber.

When we caught up with the rest of the crew, my hands turned ice-cold. In the wake of the sobering siren, the cabin had gone completely still. Suddenly, the speakers crackled, breaking the silence with a warning.

Thermal control system failing. Autopilot disengaged.

Botu, the starship captain, sprang into action, charging into the cockpit. While the rest of the Keepers behaved according to protocol, calmly filing down the stairs to the deck, Jethro and I ran in after him. Botu hustled, flipping switches and yanking levers to no avail. He checked the systems information screen and looked back at Jethro, his forehead glistening with sweat.

“The ship is failing. We need to make an emergency landing.”

“What are you waiting for?” Jethro’s eyes were wide with panic. “Save this ship!”

We slid into the seats behind Botu and strapped ourselves into the chairs.

Emergency landing activated. Destination: Earth. Landing will commence in five seconds.