Silas: Imperial Warrior (A Sci-Fi Alien Warrior Romance) (2 page)

It was one of the older cantinas in the city, a ramshackle place that had existed since the time of the Old Emperor. Back then, it had been a way house between the more affluent market district and the pleasure district. Many members of HIMA had used it to watch for illicit activity going on between the two areas of the capital, but that had just fostered distrust between the people and the Emperor, so the practice had been outlawed at the end of the Emperor's reign. When he died and Ammaline succeeded him to the title, she ordered that something else be done with the place.

And thus it had been turned into The Skip.

Tables and bar stools were always full to bursting at this time of night, and the pretty serving women kept spirits and food coming from the back.

As soon as they stepped in, the raucous noise hit them, and it took some getting used to before they were acclimated.

There was a gaggle of Prevarian women in one corner, hooded and veiled as their order required, and passing around a goblet filled with a pearly white liquid that gave off a telltale shimmer in the low light. Andolish men had a table to themselves in the center of the cantina, and they were laughing and betting over a game of Shol. All manner of other creatures and races packed the cantina, and Cress and Silas had to push through the throng to make their way to the bar so they could order their drinks.

Soran, the current proprietor of The Skip, a pretty Havari woman with dark skin and darker eyes, grinned and saluted them as they approached.

"Well, well," she said in her sprawling Havar accent, all long vowels and rounded endings. "If it isn't HIMA's finest."

"Evening, Soran," Silas said, setting himself down on a barstool that he could have sworn someone was sitting on only moments ago.

She leaned against the bar as Cress took a seat as well. "What was it tonight?" she asked. "Chasing down murderers? Bringing outlaws in for the Empress' justice?"

Cress snorted. "Petty thievery," he said.

"Well, that's dull," Soran replied.

"Still falls under our job description," Silas pointed out. "They were moving fast in one of those old speeders from the First War, you know."

"And you're the best pilot in the Army," Soran said, winking at him.

"He is not!" Cress complained. "I was right there with him."

"You were behind me," Silas pointed out. "The whole way there."

"My ship-"

"Was exactly the same as mine."

Soran roared with laughter and then pulled down two glasses from the back shelves. "You two make running this joint worthwhile, I have to say. It's nice to know that some members of HIMA can be, you know, people."

Cress shrugged. "Eh, we're all people. Just some of the senior members take themselves too seriously. Comes with the rank increase, I guess."

"Speaking of," Soran said, pouring their drinks and sliding them over before she leaned closer. "I've heard a rumor."

That caught their attention immediately. As someone in a position right smack dab between the two major districts of the capital, all gossip that flowed through The Skip in either direction was right there for Soran to hear. She was an expert at filtering out the nonsense and the things that were blatantly untrue and finding the nuggets of truth and useful info. She passed on what she thought was relevant, but could never have been accused of being a snitch or a rat. It made her excellent at her job, and was one of the reasons why Silas and the others who came to The Skip always made a point to speak with her.

"What did you hear?" Cress asked, all baited breath.

Soran snorted. "It's about flyboy over here," she said, pointing a long finger at Silas and looking at him with her fathomless eyes.

"Me?"

"Mmhmm. Curious now?"

He had been before, but now he was especially. "Of course."

"Well, it seems like Her Imperial Majesty has been speaking of promotions, weighing her options, as it were."

"How would you know that?" Cress wanted to know.

"The servants listen, and they talk," Soran told him. "And then they go spend their credits in the pleasure rooms, and all that comes back to me."

Silas didn't need her to make the connection. "Me?" he asked again.

"You. Excited?"

He made a face. As much of an honor as it would be to be a leader, he was...unsure. Leading meant less time for things like speeding through the stars taunting Cress as they chased down petty criminals stupid enough to run. It meant longer hours, more data work, and less action in general. The whispers in the lower ranks said that the higher ups were so stuffy because they never got to kill anything. He didn't want that to happen to him.

But he'd have to be a fool to turn down a promotion from Her Imperial Majesty.

"Sure," he said blandly, and knocked back his drink.

Prequel Two: Second Shift

“This is WFQK, Lite Talk for your drive into work. It’s 7:23 am, a balmy seventy two degrees out there, but enjoy it while you can, folks. The dog days of summer will be here soon enough. For those of you on the Westbound connector, you’re looking at another fifteen or twenty minutes added to your commute while an accident is cleared off to the side. Two lanes are still blocked and traffic is positively crawling. As always, your morning report is sponsored by Melbin’s Jewelers. ‘For a diamond as bright as her smile, it has to be Melbin’s’.”

Katia rolled her eyes and hit the button to scan through the radio stations while she turned onto the road that would lead her to the highway. An extra fifteen minutes to the commute wouldn’t make her late for work, but it did mean that she wouldn’t have the chance to stop and get her usual coffee and a bagel on the way in.

The first five seconds of pop songs played while the scanner did its job, and she stopped it when she heard the opening bars to a song she really liked, singing along as she drove.

“You’re listening to Live 103.5,” said the DJ when the song ended. “And that was Slowly, Deeply, Always by Jenna Pry. It’s 7:30, and for our half time this morning, we’ve got something interesting for you all. Daniel Simmons is a name most of us recognize these days. If you haven’t seen him on the news, telling stories of his very own close encounters, then you surely know him from memes on Facebook. I bet if you check your feed, you’ll see one in the first five posts right now. Go on, I’ll wait.” He paused, and Katia rolled her eyes again. As if anyone was actually checking their phone for Facebook updates when half the city was in their cars on the way to work.

She went to change the station, but something made her pause. Katia knew the name Daniel Simmons. It was hard to find anyone who didn’t these days, the DJ was right about that. He was the latest in a string of people all claiming to have seen aliens in the last couple of years, but unlike the rest of them, he’d had photographic evidence.

...Of a sort.

There was only so much you could prove from a grainy cell phone picture, but there was definitely a large, hulking shape in the image that had been shown on every major news network and late night comedy talk show for the last month or so.

Reactions ranged from people calling him a liar, to people calling him an idiot, to people who believed him. Katia wasn’t really sure where she fell on that list, mostly because she had too many things to do to worry about whether or not one man in a state far from hers had actually seen an alien or not.

But she still listened when Simmons got on the air.

“Thanks for joining us for Half Time, Mr. Simmons,” the DJ said. “So I’m sure it’s safe to say you’ve had a busy few weeks.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely busy. Been on more talk shows than I’ve ever even seen before.”

The DJ laughed. “Fame will do that to you. We don’t have a lot of time here, and I’m sure most of our listeners have already heard you speak somewhere or other, but can you, real quick, tell us why you believe there’s more out there.”

“Of course.” Simmons was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “I mean, I could say it’s because I’ve seen it with my own two eyes, but I know there’s a bunch of people out there who don’t believe me and think I’m an idiot or something. And that’s fine. We don’t always believe stuff, even when they’re right in front of us. But think about this: it’s a big universe out there. Planets and nebulas and stars stretching out farther than we could ever get to. How in the heck can we say that we’re the only things kicking around out in all that. Just us on our little planet? It don’t make sense. Just because water and air and all that are things
we
need, don’t mean it’s all other species need. I believe we’ve been visited. And I don’t think it’ll be the last time.”

She had to admit, it was a moving speech. Far from just being a crackpot like so many people assumed he was, Simmons spoke with an intelligence not usually heard on radio interviews like this. And he had good points. Katia didn’t particularly want to think about the vastness of space, and luckily her exit popped up quickly, and her mind was back on work and her goals for the week.

“Good morning, Royal Tree Suites, how may I help you? Oh, yes, of course. Mmhmm. If you’ll give me just a moment, I can pull up your reservation information, Mrs. Scott.” Katia pressed the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, practiced fingers going to the keyboard to look up the reservation for the customer. “Alright, I’ve got it. And you wanted to add another room to that? Unfortunately that floor is all booked up, Mrs. Scott, but I can book you for a single on the next floor down. Yes. Yes, ma’am, it has all the same accommodations. We can go ahead and add it to your reservation, and you’ll be charged at checkout. Alright. Excellent. I’ll take care of it right now, Mrs. Scott. Yes. Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day.”

She hung up the phone and sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face. She’d only been behind this desk for three hours so far, and already she wanted to be done with it. Her feet hurt, and the fact that she didn’t get a chair to sit in made her want to smack something or someone. Knowing that after this she had to go to her second job, just made things worse.

Still, Katia entered the reservation information into the computer with the usual firm, decisive clatter of fingers on keys, and then sighed, grateful that the lobby of the hotel was deserted so she could sag against the polished counter for a moment.

Royal Tree Suites was one of the nicer hotels in the city. It wasn’t as fancy as the ones near the airport, but it was several steps up from the inns and motels that lined the highway. It boasted free wifi, an indoor pool, and free continental breakfast for anyone with a reservation. It was a nice mixture of luxury and quaint, and still affordable on top of that, so it was very popular.

Which, of course, meant that Katia’s downtime was nearly nonexistent outside of her breaks. She answered phones, she answered questions, she greeted guests, and handled checking in and checking out.

When a woman with four screaming children stopped by the desk to complain that the couple in the room next to hers had been banging on the wall all evening the night before, Katia had to offer her sincere apologies instead of pointing out that maybe they just wanted her screaming hellions to keep their mouths shut for five minutes so that they could get some sleep or watch HBO or something. But professionalism demanded certain things, so she just smiled and said she’d have a word with them.

“Why is it that people can’t control their spawn?”

Katia laughed and turned to see her coworker Eliza coming up to the desk. She was one of Katia’s favorite people to work with, mostly because of things like the comment she’d just made. Eliza was amazing at smiling and being accommodating in the face of the guests, but as soon as it was just them, every sarcastic and rude comment she’d wanted to make came pouring out, usually making Katia laugh so hard her stomach hurt.

“Who knows?” Katia replied, sliding over so there was room for Eliza behind the desk. “Maybe they’re scared of them.”

Eliza snorted. “I know I would be. You know one of the best things about not being interested in men?”

“According to you, there’s a million things that are good about it.”

“Well, yeah, but some are in the top tier of good stuff. Like no accidental pregnancies.”

Katia nodded. “Alright, yeah. I’ll give you that one.”

“Thank you.”

Having someone there with her made time go by faster, and soon her requisite five hours behind the desk were done and she was heading to her car to drive to job number two.

Working this hard was stressful, and more often than not, when she finished a two job day, she ended up needing several cups of coffee to get through it all and then finding herself slumping into her house like her feet were weighed down with lead. She managed something quick and easy for dinner and then dragged herself into a shower before finally falling into bed. Luckily, it was only three days a week that she ended up at both jobs in one day, so she wasn’t
always
knock down, passed out exhausted. Just most of the time.

But it was for a good cause.

In her house, in the little, otherwise useless, cabinet above her refrigerator was a jar labeled ‘The Lily’. It was mostly symbolic since there wasn’t any cash in it, save for a some loose change and a few crumpled dollars, but it held the bank statements and deposit slips for the bank account she had set up for the express purpose of saving money for the inn she wanted to run in the future.