Snows of Aturia (The Darvel Exploratory Systems #3) Page 2

  His strength and guidance were depended on, especially in matters such as these. His warning of the storm would be heeded.

  “Done,” Vi’ryk announced. “I have also sent out alerts to the valetik so that everyone is advised to stay close to home. Is there anything else you require?”

  Jor’y shook his head, his gaze remaining fixed on the snowy mountains. He sensed his assistant’s hesitation.

  “Is there something on your mind Vi’ryk?” he grumbled.

  “Actually, if I may speak freely…”

  Jor’y snorted, casting a glance at the male lingering behind him. “When has that ever stopped you, my friend? Go ahead.”

  A chuckle escaped Vi’ryk. “Fair enough. It’s just that… everyone is concerned,” he managed tactfully. “You are not a young male anymore. You have no heirs to train to take your place, and you were your sire’s only offspring. Our people look to you for protection and leadership, and some worry that you have yet to take a mate.”

  “You speak as if this is a simple matter,” Jor’y growled, his forecrest rising slightly as his crown feathers puffed up in agitation. “I am a busy male, and it is not as if unmated females are plentiful among the outer rim valetiks.” The fact that many of the younger females had chosen to leave the valetiks and undergo the necessary surgeries for a more comfortable life in the cities did not help matters. “We both know that within the cities there are not options,” he added bitterly.

  “There were some females who indicated interest a few rotations ago,” Vi’ryk reminded him.

  The male knew exactly why Jor’y had not chosen either of them, and had agreed, at the time, with his decision. Jor’y had a difficult time feeling any kind of interest in those females, and even more difficulty in trusting them with the welfare of his valetik.

  “I would not to do that to my kin,” he grated out, his wings squeezing closer to his body with his mounting annoyance.

  “And that is why the valetik loves and respects you. You put us before your own loneliness.”

  “Hardly a sacrifice in that case.”

  “But still,” Vi’ryk interrupted, smiling, “we would like to see you with a female. Any female. I doubt anyone would even object if you flew south and kidnapped one of those soft-skinned humans,” he laughed.

  “I do not think the human colony would find that as amusing,” Jor’y replied, the corners of his mouth tilting up.

  “As if they know one Aturian from another,” his friend scoffed. “All they would see is some barbarian outer rimmer and cry to the planetary government. And what could they do? They cannot even enforce the ridiculous human laws regarding interspecies pleasure joining. Or manage to remove the vids,” he chuckled.

  Despite his refusal to entertain Vi’ryk’s suggestion, Jor’y’s mouth went dry. He had seen some of the so-called “illegal” vids. Despite being classified as illegal to satisfy the human colonists, the vids were easy to find and purchase without any repercussions. Although the male and female Aturians in the vids had been disfigured as was now socially the norm, even he had been entranced by the highly erotic pleasure demonstrated by the small, soft human species.

  He wouldn’t stoop to anything as dishonorable as kidnapping anyone, but to have a soft, expressive female under him was tempting. The only thing that soured that fantasy was knowing how humans would react to his feathers. He would not see such loathing and disgust in the eyes of any female he sought to mate. His heart wouldn’t be able to bear it. Nor would he disfigure himself for any mate. Not for an Aturian female or a human.

  Vi’ryk cleared his throat. “As for the Hashavnal…”

  “No.”

  The male sighed. “Jor’y, the valetik expects it. And we are to have visitors in attendance.”

  Visitors? That was the first Jor’y had heard of it. He cast a questioning glance at his friend, and the male shrugged his wings apologetically.

  “It is on request from the Aturian government. Darvel is seeking to open further trade with the outer rim and so we are expected to host a small delegation during the event.” He winced. “They will be your guests.”

  Jor’y froze, his eyes widening for a moment before he dropped his head and gave a vicious curse. Vi’ryk, despite his more mellow disposition like most Aturians, did not attempt to comfort or placate him to defuse the hostility brewing within Jor’y. Instead, the male’s eyes glittered with appreciation at the just venting of the anger and frustration on behalf of the valetik. These reactions were depended on from him in the face of potential hostility.

  “Why was I not informed of this earlier?” he demanded.

  The male’s mouth twisted. “I was just informed today. I know that the valetik will be thrilled to have visitors during our sacred Hashavnal.” He cocked his head again. “Do you suppose the storm will have passed by then?”

  Jor’y grunted again. “Yes. The Hashavnal is half a cycle away. This storm shall have us snowed in for a while, but we should be ready to accept guests by then.”

  Unless something changed. He would make sure that the valetik had plenty of warning, but communicating that to the humans could prove a difficulty.

  “I will let my Ama’ri know. You know how much she enjoys this time of the revolution.”

  “Perhaps it will at least be enough to distract everyone from concerning themselves with my mating,” he muttered.

  His assistant glanced at him with an amused expression. “I would not depend on that,” the male advised with a huff of laughter. “If anything, the females will be looking at the delegation all the more closely in hopes of finding a female among them for you.”

  He shuddered. The last thing he needed was the females arranging a mating for him with some poor unsuspecting offworld female.

  “It might even be a good thing if you can’t be persuaded to find one yourself.”

  “Get out. I do not know why I made you of all people my assistant,” he growled.

  “Because I am not intimidated by you and put up with your growling,” Vi’ryk observed, a grin stretching across his face. “Face it. For an Aturian, you are not an easy male. Your sire and grandsire should have had whole broods to fill this estate, just to give you someone to fight and bicker with. Your kind is not meant to be so alone up here. Since that is not the case, you are stuck with me.”

  He was not wrong. The same genetics that made valmeks superior leaders and protectors heightened their aggression. The valmek estate was intended to be filled with warriors to protect the valetik, but battles that broke out around the time of the human colonization thinned their numbers drastically, and his grandsire had ceased to reproduce after Jor’y’s grandmother died. With his parents dying prematurely, with only one young offspring between them, and the last of the elder generation dying away, the estate was hauntingly empty. That Vi’ryk willingly endured his company day after day hinted at least a drop of valmek blood somewhere in the male’s line.

  Or just incredibly strong bonds of friendship. That alone was something.

  Jor’y snorted but not without amusement, flicking a wing at the male. “Go home to Ama’ri and give her my greetings. Be sure to keep her indoors and warm, my friend.”

  Vi’ryk nodded, his expression turning firm. “That I shall. She will fuss at being confined inside when there is much to be done around town, especially with the news of the delegation, but I will not risk her going out if it will be bad as you say.” His expression turned concerned. “Be sure you remain indoors and warm too, Jor’y.”

  Grunting, Jor’y waved the male off. The hesitation was only brief before his friend nodded and left, his claws clicking on the stone floor on his way out. Silence descended quickly on the heels of his departure, emphasizing every little creak of the ancient building. Although it had been upgraded with tech, the stone walls and wooden beams held history that seemed to speak the loudest when he was alone.

  As he was too much of late.

  He sighed. Vi’ryk was not wrong. He neede
d a mate. He needed someone to help beat back the emptiness and loneliness of his position. He needed heirs to protect the future of his valetik. More than all of that… he needed a companion. Love. He needed to rediscover the joy that seemed to dwindle more and more every revolution.

  He flattened a hand against the window in front of him, his black claws splayed wide.

  Where are you, my mate?

  A bark of self-deriding laughter left him, and he shook his head. What he needed then was to prepare for the storm. It was already beginning to pick up. Although he knew that Vi’ryk had sent warning to everyone’s comms, he should make another announcement just in case. He began to let his hand drop away from the window when a flash of light appeared over the northern mountain range, lighting up the sky with a brilliant flare. He squinted at the intense light that seemed to get only brighter as it fell until it suddenly banked.

  Dread crawled over him making his wings quiver. That was no meteorite falling. Someone had crashed. He did not know who, but at that moment it did not matter. He could not, in good conscience, abandon anyone to the appetite of the storm moving in.

  With a snap of his wings, he turned away and hurried from the room. He only hoped that he would be in time.

  Chapter 3

  Vanessa slowly sat up, shivering. Her head hurt something awful, and the cold penetrating the shuttle was burrowing deep through her layered clothes.

  How can anything be this cold?

  A large figure dropped down into the chair beside her, and Vanessa glanced up to meet the concerned dark brown eyes. Thick black eyebrows furrowed as he reached forward and gripped her shoulder with a warm hand. Tackert. He had sat across from her during the flight down and introduced himself as Michael Tackert. Her eyes stung with tears, grateful that she wasn’t alone. If only she wasn’t so damned cold. He didn’t seem to be cold at all, but then crew members were wearing those nifty TRSs.

  Damn. She’d never been more envious.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. He had to shout to be heard over the wind whistling through the enormous tear running along one side of the shuttle.

  She nodded, her teeth chattering. “Just c-cold,” she replied, her arms hugging the front of her body.

  His lips pinched together with worry, and he gave her shoulder another squeeze. “I’ll find the emergency pack and get out a blanket for you. Stay here.”

  Reaching up, she grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Is e-everyone else o-okay?” she asked through her chattering teeth.

  He gave her a small smile and nodded. “Just a bit banged up, but we all made it. The rest of the crew went outside to set up a beacon device. We just need to hang in there until someone comes to get us. Everything is going to be okay,” he assured her.

  “O-okay,” she whispered, her eyes following him as he walked away at an angle with one arm braced against the wall to accommodate the tilt of the shuttle.

  Approaching a wall near the pilot’s seat, Tackert withdrew a black duffle bag from a compartment and set it at his feet to unzip it. It only took a few minutes of rummaging around in it before he fished out a metallic square. He quickly unfolded it to reveal a large emergency blanket, which he draped over one arm before bending to rezip the bag. Standing, he shouldered the bag and made his way back to Vanessa. Plunking the bag in one of the nearby seats, he wrapped the blanket around her.

  It was warmer than she expected. She immediately burrowed into it and gave him a grateful smile. “T-thank you.”

  His smile widened a bit, showing straight white teeth, and he nodded. “You’re welcome. Just stay put now and rest. You’ve got a nasty bump on your head there. Someone will be out to retrieve us soon.”

  “Don’t go making promises, Tackert,” another sighed as he ducked inside. His cheeks and nose were already chapped and bright red from the cold. He gave her only a brief glance before directing his attention solely to the man in front of her. “The storm is picking up, and somehow our navigation got screwed up from some sort of atmospheric interference enough that we’re nowhere near the southern continent. The lieutenant isn’t sure where we are, since we can’t get a lock on anything familiar out there.” He hesitated, giving her another glance before lowering his voice and drawing Tackert over a short distance away, but not enough that she wasn’t able to just barely make out what he said. “We aren’t even sure if there are any settlements around here. He thinks we may be in the outer rim.”

  “Fuck,” Tackert groaned. “What’s the plan, then?”

  The other man shrugged. “Hunker down and do whatever we have to in order to survive. We’ve got enough rations stored for a few days but after that… I don’t know. We’re up in the mountains, and that seems to be causing some signal interference. If help doesn’t arrive, we might have to start making some hard decisions to keep our crew alive.”

  Tackert sighed but didn’t disagree. He gave a reluctant nod, and they stepped out of the shuttle, their voices lost to the storm.

  Vanessa didn’t need to hear any more. Her heart chilled, her eyes widening even as she ducked her cold face lower into her blanket. She tried not to cry, not wanting icy tears freezing to her face, but that didn’t make reality any less terrible. If help didn’t come, they would have to try to make it on foot so that they didn’t all starve to death. There was a chance of all of them making it—except her. She didn’t have a TRS, and without one there was no way she would survive the brutal cold to walk even a handful of miles.

  If a rescue team didn’t arrive, they would be forced to leave her to die in the mountains.

  After all the characters she’d brutally killed off in numerous ways, there was a certain irony to the fact that she would be meeting her own end similarly. Didn’t she once have someone die from exposure? She laughed weakly.

  She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt even worse, and exhaustion had crept in. She considered taking a little nap to escape the miserable cold when a startled shout from outside made her eyes snap open.

  Suddenly the crew poured back into the shuttle, their booted feet clomping heavily, half-skidding on the melted snow. They shouted to on another, grabbing blasters as they hunkered down, their eyes fixed on something outside beyond her field of vision.

  Tackert dropped beside her, his blaster raised, and she gave him a worried look.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered.

  He shook his head, his mouth tightening as fear flickered in his eyes. “Something is out there. Something fucking big.”

  “Shit! It’s coming right for us!” another shouted, the end of his blaster shaking only very slightly as he kept it aimed. He cut a quick glance to the man at his side. “Stephens, do we have a lock on it?”

  The man beside him, she guessed Stephens, glanced at his comm and shook his head. “The shuttle is toast. My comm uplinks aren’t even registering this thing. I can’t get a lock.”

  “Fuck!”

  Vanessa leaned forward, squinting as she attempted to peer between the men pressed tightly in formation in front of her. Something clattered to the floor, and Stephens cursed. He ducked to pick it up, and the outside world suddenly opened up to her. She was able to see the craggy, snowy landscape stretching out beyond the gaping hole.

  Snow blew down hard, obscuring almost everything except the nearest icy gray stones jutting up from the drifts like jagged teeth. Two phantom white blotches fanned wide, and her breath caught in her throat. They were wings, each possessing two sets of dark, claw-like “fingers,” a set at the wing joint and another further down. If not for their dark color against the rush of white, she wouldn’t have been able to make them out, and even then it was only just barely.

  The massive purple body and whipping feather tail that came into view grabbed her attention more vividly. Vanessa gaped, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. She had never even bothered to look into what large predators existed on Aturia. She was supposed to be in her cabin
on a mild continent colonized by Darvel Exploration Corporation. It was supposed to be safe.

  Whatever the creature was, it was also clearly intelligent. The moment the targeting beams of the blasters fell on it, the creature gave a terrifying snarl. She was stunned, however, when the snarl quieted and a deep voice growled at them, perfectly audible despite the wind.

  “You test my good will, humans. Put your blasters down before I leave you up here to freeze.”

  Stephens straightened, once again blocking her view. With all of their backs turned to her, she had no idea what thoughts might be going through their minds, but she could see the explosive device clenched in his hand. Her mouth rounded in shock. That was what he had dropped! Thankfully, Stephens didn’t seem inclined to use it at the moment. He lowered his arm to his side.

  “I am Mitchell Stephens of starcruiser Anointed. Identify yourself!” he shouted.

  His demand was met with another snarl, this one sounding more exasperated if she wasn’t imagining things.

  “I am Jor’ytal of Mirfal valetik.”

  “All right Jor… ytal. What is it you want?”

  There was a pregnant pause, and Vanessa could almost swear that she could see the shadow of his head tilting. “You have crashed in my territory, and so I am here. Now do you require assistance or not?”

  “You’re Aturian?” another called out warily. He cleared his throat when his question was met with silence. “My apologies. I’m Jeremy Fowler, Communications.”