Star Brigade: Maelstrom (Star Brigade Book 2) Read online

  When she opened her eyes it was as if someone flashed a bright halolight in her face after macroms of pitch-black. Instinctively, she squinted in pain. Little by little the blinding white faded, forming into murky, unfocused objects. Tharydane lifted her head, brushed back her damp locks to see a little better. But this only made her skull pound like crazy.

  By how the crimson sunset splashed through the mysteriously shattered viewports, early evening had arrived. Sounds of far-off urban bustle could be heard. But all around her was stony silence. The tang of familiar liquors permeated the air—she had to be back in the hostellaris. But even that smelled odd to Tharydane, as it was mixed with an unpleasant roasting stench.

  “Didn’t I just leave that party?” she murmured and then froze. Something felt wrong. “Wait, how did I get back in here?” Tharydane vaguely recalled being outside previously. It didn’t help that everything still appeared blurry and spiraling in front of her. And then there was that strange dream.

  She tried rolling into a seated position and instantly wished she hadn’t. Every muscle in the Korvenite’s body screamed in protest, from ankles to neck, buckling her limbs beneath her weight.

  “Ouch,” she groaned. Tharydane, face down on the floor again, felt like she had been running nonstop for several orvs and just now stopped to rest. Somehow, even with unspeakably weary muscles, she managed to push up to her elbows. Her eyes then fell on the blurry thing beside her. Her vision finally swam into focus. Tharydane jerked away. Vinda.

  The female lay flat on her back, staring at nothing. Three blackened holes in her torso, another one through her forehead and a pool of blood oozing from under her back. The wisps of smoke curling up from Vinda’s wounds stank of smoldering flesh. Tharydane’s weariness fell off like a cloak as she shot to her feet. “Vinda, what—.” But a glance past Vinda’s body only revealed more butchery.

  The hostellaris was a shambling ruin, blaster scorch marks everywhere, tables and chairs shattered. Bimnorii’s dwindling sunset cast a bloody glow on the litter of corpses, her coworkers, all over the hostellaris—each riddled with energy blasts. Hugrask’s workers had obviously lost the firefight.

  Horror choked her throat, making it hard to breathe. She remembered. Her friends, her coworkers, killed. “Because of…me?” She backed up and almost tripped over something solid, yet mushy. Tharydane caught herself and turned to see Hugrask’s mangled carcass.

  A lifetime seemed to pass while Tharydane gaped at the Mulkeavian’s remains. Hugrask, crushed as if an aaln herd had trampled him many times over.

  “Who did this? Who—.” her voice died with a hoarse croak. She remembered everything; the arrival of Gijjir, the gunfight, her attempted escape. All that had really happened…as did the Korvenite’s disposal of her family’s killers.

  Tharydane sank to her knees beside Hugrask’s body, shaking with both fatigue and disbelief. “I—did I?” The memories flashed through her mind, fresh and crisp like holograms.

  Her hate, that blinding hate, Tharydane could still taste the remnants. It echoed in her mind, quietly taunting her, whispering every sordid detail…

  …the massive Gijjir Nhul raising his claw, about to impale her. One of his cronies, a Tarkathian, held Tharydane firmly in place. Six more cronies, armed to the teeth, all had stood at the hostellaris exit.

  Everything around her so devoid of any life or color. That hollowness in her soul had an identity. Hugrask…butchered! She had felt him die, cleansing away all thought, leaving a hatred that dwarfed everything. Clinging to it, Tharydane had forgotten she was only fourteen years old, petite, outnumbered eleven to one, still wearing her dancing pants. The Korvenite’s loathing had swelled, burning through her veins, demanding release. Gijjir’s claw thrust forward like a spear, aimed at Tharydane’s heart.

  Tharydane had inhaled, as if taking a breath for the first time and threw up her hands, heaving out all that festering hatred at her attackers in one mind-numbing eruption.

  Veins of energy shot from her body, swatting away her foes. When the searing arcs jolted through her attackers, she could literally taste the nectar of their pain on her tongue.

  And her hate—such ungovernable hate—played the puppeteer, animating her actions, marrying Tharydane to a reservoir of psionic energy. Potent and intoxicating energy, begging to nourish her wrath. The Korvenite openly obliged. Screams sounding off from all around… not just from the Maruduuk’s terrified cronies…all sounding like static from a half-muted comm signal to Tharydane.

  Gijjir had sprang back to his insectoid-like feet, a glower of utmost fury on his puckered face. But deep in his mind Tharydane remembered savoring the Maruduuk’s fear, seeing it had hatched from a chalk-white demon with eyes blacker than night and an elfin face distorted by wrath.

  Not Maelstrom. Not a Retributionary. “Me,” Tharydane hugged herself and shivered. These foreign memories barreled in, like watching a gruesome holovid of some other being…

  Gijjir Nhul had waved his crusher claws irately, barking orders at his cronies to kill her.

  Tharydane had advanced, her long violet mane whipped about as if alive, arms sizzling with psionic power. Not just psionic power, but Mindshift—telekinesis in its most primal form. How did I do this? At the time, that question never mattered. Loathing had dominated all thought.

  The first crony, the Tarkathian, trained his pulse rifle on her. Tharydane merely pointed at him and psionic Mindshift bolts forked out from her arm. She sensed the Tarkathian’s pain, heard him scream, saw the raw psionic force at her command batter his body into sickening postures. The Tarkathian slumped to the ground in a misshapen heap and Tharydane moved to her next victim.

  More of Gijjir’s cronies had burst out of the hostellaris’ back exit. The Korvenite girl almost lazily raised her hands. Something metallic groaned in protest, Hugrask’s ruined hovercar soaring forth at her command. Tharydane dropped the vehicle on them. A symphony of crunching sounds erupted at once, their bodies smashed to gooey, bloody paste. She hoisted the burned hovercar, higher this time—and slammed it down again for good measure.

  Tharydane recoiled. “I couldn’t…how could I…?” she gasped, refusing to accept responsibility for her loss of control. But the unwelcome memories continued, an overflow of blood and butchery.

  Two more attackers, Rothorids, had dashed forward. Or more like shoved forward by the frantic Maruduuk. Tharydane had thrust out both palms, shoving the two attackers back, sandwiching them against a terracotta wall. Their life forces ebbed quickly. Now none would stand against her. Gijjir and his remaining henchmen had tried fleeing, sand and dust clouds rising in their wake.

  “NO!” Tharydane had roared, an unfamiliar voice leaving her mouth, rippled with terrifying power.

  Reaching out her hands, she had yanked at the two fleeing humans and the large Maruduuk as if attached to drawstrings, dropping them mere feet in front of her. The Korvenite had strode through the sand sprayed in her foes’ wake. The two humans had tripped over each other scrambling to their feet. Tharydane had known them at a glance for beating Hugrask to death! Their minds had revealed their crime, their unabashed joy over it. She had immediately levitated them in the air—slamming them together so hard, Tharydane heard their bones shattering.

  She pulled them apart, slammed them together again. Pulled them apart, slammed them together; again and again and again. More bones snapped with each impact, until the two humans were floppy caricatures of once-living beings. A nauseating, giddying sight. She finally let the bodies go. They hit the ground and stuck there, not bouncing or rolling like they should.

  A sudden presence had rushed up from behind…and Tharydane ducked in time, the Maruduuk’s claw slashing where her head had just been.

  She had spun toward Gijjir, who came sailing in with his other claw. On instinct, Tharydane had thrust out a hand, shoving him away.

  The Mindshift shove struck Gijjir’s exoskeleton, cracking it. He let out a shout as he was thrown back, more dust
spraying. Gijjir got back up, but slower than before. Despite the menacing way he clacked his claws, his fear was overwhelming.

  What a bizarre picture; the colossal Maruduuk criminal, terrified of the petite Korvenite dancer. Tharydane had looked at him and saw the one that ruined her home, her life. This day, Gijjir would die.

  Crimson sands churned and spun into a telekinetic whirlwind, lifting spare hovercar parts around the alley, whirling faster and faster around her willowy form. Gijjir had turned and ran as fast as his four legs would carry him. Tharydane remembered not letting him. Vehicle debris had slammed and scraped into Gijjir’s fleeing frame. The Maruduuk’s puckered face was a study in fear as her vortex had devoured him. Her heart had leapt with sadistic joy. Once engulfed, a thousand knives of nonstop agony had lanced through Gijjir.

  His screams filled the vacant alleyway, rattling through Tharydane’s bones.

  Flecks of milky blood and exoskeleton flicked against her face. It had tickled. She had laughed a twisted, ugly laugh—as unfamiliar has her relentless hate. Finally her telekinetic cyclone had calmed, rotting litter and terracotta chunks and vehicle scrap hitting the ground around her in a noisy cacophony. Then Gijjir Nhul’s carcass had rained down; ripped to pieces beyond number. Tharydane had sensed no flicker of life. The savage joy of it had made her laugh harder and louder…

  That laughter echoed still in Tharydane’s mind. The Korvenite went colder than the surrounding corpses at all sudden recollections. She remembered walking back into the hostellaris after murdering her attackers, taking one look at the carnage…and pitching forward, totally spent.

  Her grasp on what happened fully restored, Tharydane stared around the hostellaris through vacant eyes at the mangled bodies of her coworkers and Gijjir’s henchbeings. None of this would’ve happened if not for me. Every death in this place today was her fault. She touched Hugrask’s squashed face and stared dully at his blood staining her fingers. Tharydane’s vision became increasingly blurry and tears spilled down her cheeks. Self-loathing surged up Tharydane’s throat—forcing out a loud, strangled wail. The sobs sucked away the last of her strength and she wilted next to Hugrask. She squeezed her eyes shut, but Tharydane couldn’t stop seeing what she had done; the hate, the profuse delight. She felt physically sick. Sickened by herself.

  Laying on the hostellaris floor, limp and shattered, Tharydane wanted it all to end. Why couldn’t she have just let Gijjir kill her? Now I have no one.

  Her body shook again, but with anguish and a potent disgust. The Korvenite hugged her chest tightly, trying to control her spasming stomach. A long time passed before Tharydane’s sobs finally ceased, only because she cried herself to sleep on the cold hostellaris floor.

  4.

  “Dulce Madre, this isn’t happening!” Liliana Cortés gaped. It was the last morning of combat training. Khrome was doing a victory dance that involved backflips. Tyris stood solemnly looking no different than usual, given his lack of most humanoid facial features.

  “Yes, Ensign this is.” Captain Nwosu stood with them in the middle of the HLHG Room, speaking with that thick Cercidalean brogue. His hazel-gold eyes glittered proudly. “You’ve all earned spots on my combat team—CT-1.”

  Every day of this aggressive training had left Liliana exhausted and aching all over. Yet, she not only survived the entire two-week retraining schedule, but passed with flying colors. And with Khrome ‘s welcome assistance, Liliana had finally conquered a major portion of her space sickness.

  “Thank you, sir,” she proclaimed, trying not to tremble from both joy and fatigue. A spot on an actual combat team. Dios Mío!

  “That’s super luminal, Captain,” Khrome whooped with a prizewinning grin. “You, me, LLC and the icicle on the same team? Pffft! Let the KIF bring it!”

  Habraum folded his arms behind his back. “It will also have Captain Ishiliba, Sam and Marguliese. A temporary addition,” he added quickly, after Khrome’s smile vanished.

  “And team training?” Tyris asked. Lily could hear the glee in his wintry voice.

  “Starts tomorrow, so we can get our timing down.” Habraum’s wristcom beeped furiously. “Excuse me,” he walked a few metrids away to answer.

  Lily couldn’t hold in her joy any longer and started jumping up and down. “We did it! We did it!” she squealed. In total ball-busting fashion, Khrome bounced right along with Liliana.

  She stopped jumping. “You’re mocking me,” the doctor scowled.

  The Thulican teased her with a smirk. “A little bit.”

  “A lotta bit,” Tyris amended. His dark eyes sparkled under the HLHG suite’s halolights.

  “Don’t melt with delight, Ty,” Khrome snapped suddenly, glaring over Liliana’s shoulder. “We’re gone.” The armor-skinned Thulican gave Tyris a pointed look before heading for the HLHG suite’s exit.

  The Tanoeen turned to where Khrome had been looking and his eyes widened. Marguliese approached them, wearing a sleeveless uniform of glossy obsidian fabric with her hair in its usual sleek ponytail. Tyris offered a civil nod to the Cybernarr when she halted in front of them. “We’ll be outside, Liliana,” the Tanoeen said, trotting after Khrome in long strides.

  Marguliese turned to Liliana. “Ensign Cortés, congratulations on your placement. And you’re welcome.”

  Lily stared at her blankly. “But…I never said thank you.”

  “You did, two weeks ago when I advised you to illustrate your gratitude by becoming a more proficient Star Brigadier,” Marguliese said. “Since you have, I am saying ‘you’re welcome.’” The odd statement made Liliana laugh. But now Marguliese was looking over her shoulder, like Khrome had earlier. She turned in a huff to see who it was and recoiled. Lily looked up, and then looked up further.

  V’Korram Prydyri-Ravlek appeared suddenly behind her, a furry mountain of thick, chiseled muscle towering over both females. The Kintarian looked downright murderous, glaring down at Marguliese with teeth bared and ears flattened.

  “Can I assist you, Lieutenant?” The Cybernarr asked V’Korram. Her usually deadpan expression veered toward borderline annoyance.

  “Marguliese.” V’Korram’s green-flecked eyes gleaming behind a curtain of long and matted ginger hair. “I am the Brigade’s best recon, yet still I’m in training drills with those who actually need it!” Liliana knew that slight was just for her, but pretended not to hear it.

  “Perhaps because you have yet to comprehend the rudiments of team collaboration, V’Korram,” Marguliese countered with dispassionate courtesy. “Has that concept ever traversed your mind?”

  “WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE WHAT TEAM I’M PART OF?” V’Korram roared right in the Cybernarr’s face, every muscle corded and standing out through his bristling body fur. “YOU AREN’T EVEN A REAL STAR BRIGADIER!” Marguliese might as well have been a statue given her non-reaction to the outburst. Liliana quickly backed away. This quarrel had nothing to do with her, and V’Korram’s temper was frightening enough.

  “There a problem?” Captain Nwosu now approached. As tall as the crimsonborn human was, V’Korram still had four inches and at least seventy plus pounds on him. Nwosu stepped between the Kintarian and Marguliese, clearly not intimidated. “V’Korram?”

  As V’Korram went off again in a roaring rant, Liliana all but sprinted toward the HLHG’s door. Khrome and Tyris were waiting at the exit. “I thought you guys left.”

  “Oh, we did,” Khrome smiled roguishly. “But when the furball shot by, we had to see why.”

  Lily quickly connected the dots. “V’Korram didn’t make the team.”

  Tyris’s cobalt blue eyes narrowed. “Not news, with that sterling personality.”

  “He’s got the talent,” Khrome added seriously. “But talent don’t make up for basic social skills.”

  “Says he who self-nicknames,” Tyris snarked.

  “Shaddup, Snowcone.”

  Lily turned back to see V’Korram still in an uproar, waving his hands threateningly. Nwosu remained cal
m, Marguliese at his side adding her input. Liliana was too far away to catch any of the conversation. How bizarre was it, that a few weeks ago the Kintarian looked to be a shoe-in for a combat team, while she hadn’t even been close. At one point, before Marguliese’s arrival, Liliana had almost quit when V’Korram tried to physically bully her out of Star Brigade. Yet now the roles were reversed, and the doctor actually felt…sad for him.

  “You sure about this, Lieutenant?” Nwosu asked as he backed away.

  V’Korram met the Captain’s gaze with steely determination. “Yes,” he growled. Marguliese hadn’t moved since her argument with V’Korram began. The way her cerulean eyes bored into his countenance looked way too predatory for Liliana’s liking.

  Captain Nwosu nodded, a strange look on his face. “Let’s clear out, sprouts.” Khrome, Tyris and Liliana shared an uneasy glance, no doubt sharing her same thoughts. V’Korram quit Star Brigade. Once outside the closed HLHG Room, Liliana finally got the nerve to ask. “Sir, what’s going on?”

  “Unfinished argument,” Tyris added unhelpfully.

  “HLHG Room 1 Screen please,” Habraum spoke to a rather smooth section of the corridor wall. Instantly a large holoscreen appeared in its place, displaying the two lone occupants of HLHG Room 1.

  “V’Korram will fight Marguliese one on one, to prove that he deserves to be on my combat team.”

  Lily stared at the Captain, not believing what she just heard.

  “Sir?” Khrome yelped. “Marguliese will murderize that dumb furball.”

  Habraum turned to the Thulican. “It’s strictly hand-to-hand. And even if V’Korram wins, this won’t get him on my team.” The Cerc returned his gaze back to the screen. “He needs a sharp lesson.”

  Khrome opened his mouth to speak again, but said nothing. Onscreen the two combatants circled each other. V’Korram stalked his prey slowly, lithe physique coiled to strike, his face a mask of controlled anger. Marguliese faced him on the opposite side with regal posture, a severe contrast to the Kintarian’s skulking pose. Not once did the two take their eyes off each other.