Lathar Mercenaries: Warborne

Chapter 1-1

Zad’s destiny was to be a Krynassis hive queen. She was born to be a warrior queen with a ship full of clutch fighters to command. With her word as law, she would have been a goddess in the flesh, living among her subjects.

She was not destined to die alone in the dark, especially not in a corridor under some grubby slave pits where she’d fought for her life on a regular basis. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any day.

She ducked under a power lance aiming to separate her head from her neck and slid up in the gap between it and the heavy-set male wielding it. A look of surprise flowed over his face when she didn’t hit the sand-covered floor in two pieces as he’d expected but drove vicious claws up under his jaw. He stiffened, the grisly crunch of bone reaching her ears as her claws punched through the roof of his mouth en route to his brain. Blood cascaded over her fingers, rolling down to coat her wrist as his feet did a little jig.

“Asssssshole,” she hissed as she dropped him to the sand floor, leaving him to twitch his last without remorse. He, like every other vaarking guard in this place, had bullied and beaten countless slaves while trading in their misery. He didn’t deserve pity. In fact, she wouldn’t have pissed on him if he was on fire.

Stepping over the body, she continued down the corridor.

The lower levels of the Tarviisan fight pits, the corridors and cages where they kept the slave-fighters, had become a brutal, bloody battlefield. As breakouts went, Zad had to admit the Warborne did it with style. And chaos. Mostly just chaos with guns and explosions for shits and giggles.

“‘You’ll know when it happens.’ No s**t. Understatement of the vaarking century,” she muttered, ducking into a side corridor to catch her breath and plan her next move.

With the defenses breached and the perimeter security systems offline, most fighters were taking the opportunity to get a little payback… be that on the guards or on each other. Most didn’t seem to care which.

Twin roars echoing through the corridors said that Guntas and Vasko had decided on the latter. She wasn’t surprised. The two Devarians had hated each other’s guts from the moment they’d met. It had been all the guards could do to keep them apart and from killing each other. Today’s truce had lasted only long enough to secure the success of the breakout, and now they were back at each other’s throats.

A bellow nearby got all her attention, and she forgot about the two Devarians in favor of scooting to the side. A guard sailed through the air and hit the stone wall behind her, his last breath rattling from his chest in a groan.

She raised an eyebrow. He’d been one of the crueler assholes down here and very fond of his energis-prod. Taking it from his hand, she looked up at the fighter who’d thrown him.

“I’d have made him suffer longer,” she said, spitting on the corpse in contempt and handing the energis-prod over. Not only was the dead male fond of the crude control device, but he also liked to prey on the T3s—beings who couldn’t fight back, either because they were physically incapable or because they’d been completely and utterly broken by the pits.

“Thought about it,” the other fighter said, nodding his thanks as he took the prod. He was a short, stout Enaxis. His neck frills rattled in agitation, flared out and scarlet with bloodlust. “But I got more than a few assholes down here I want payback from.”

“I hear ya.” She nodded. “Happy hunting.”

“You too!” he called over his shoulder as he barreled off down the corridor in search of new prey.

Zad turned in the other direction, heading deeper into the corridors. Most of the fighting was dying down, leaving just a few hotspots she skirted around the edges of. A guard, battered and bloody, raced out from a side corridor and skidded to a halt in front of her.

He took one look at her still in her pit clothes with her hand sheathed in blood to the wrist, and his eyes widened. For a moment she watched the cognitive dissonance fight it out behind his eyes as he tried to make the visual of a slender, nonthreatening female vibe with the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to run away. She helped, letting her claws descend slowly.

Fear flooded his scent as the fight or flight reaction kicked in. He turned tail and ran.

“Good choice,” she muttered to the empty air. She could have dealt with him. He was only an Llaroxi, and no match for even a normal Krynassis, never mind a female. But… she had places to be.

Sliding her claws back with a snick-snick-snick in time with her footfalls she carried on. Her path took her deeper into the corridors, heading for the T3 cells. A few had been on the sands when this all kicked off, but most would still be down there. Helpless.

Her lips compressed into a hard line. The problem was, they wouldn’t be alone for long. Entirely too many predators lurked down here for her to be comfortable leaving them alone and unprotected.

She turned left at an intersection, plunging into the darkness of one of the smaller corridors. Before she’d taken ten steps, the hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Her steps slowed to a stop, her claws punching free as she balanced her weight.

“Come on out if you think you’ve got the stones,” she said, her voice even and calm. “But, just so you know, I’ve had a vaarking s**t day, and I’m in a shittier mood. That does not bode well for your long- or even short-term survival prospects.”

“Female…”

A sibilant hiss and familiar dry scent filled the corridor. She closed her eyes with a sigh. Great, just vaarking great. She could have done without these assholes today.

“Well done, you can correctly identify the female of the species,” she said as she turned to face the small group of males.

They were pure-blooded Krynassis, just like her, but one look at their thick-set builds and heavy brows told her they were Snassi. Disposable troops used as cannon fodder, they were bred for strength and endurance, but intelligence was an optional extra.

One that had obviously not been considered in their hatch-group. It looked like they barely had a couple of brain cells between them. Which clutch ship had these been hatched from? Her mother would never have suffered Snassi so stupid to live. Because facing down a full-blooded Krynassis female was a bad idea, especially one like her.

“Feeeeemale…” one of the others whispered, and her eyebrow shot up.

“Yes, we already established that. Now how about you lot f**k the hell off before I get annoyed.” She huffed out a breath. She was already pissed off. “Okay, more annoyed.”

“Feeeemalessssss need males,” the one in the front, obviously the scale-head in charge, said.

“Not thissss female,” she snarled, bringing her fists up.

The fact that these males were even questioning the word of a full-blooded Krynassis female proved they were defective in the brains and shouldn’t have been allowed to live to adulthood. Either that or they’d allowed the more… progressive thinking of other species to corrupt their instincts and had begun to see females as weaker. They thought they could take what they wanted, in this case… her.

Not. Vaarking. Happening.

“Females need males,” the leader repeated, his black eyes flicking over her with obvious lust as his tongue snaked out to flicker over his lips. “For the heat. Female needs us to service her.”

Service her? Oh, for vaark’s sake. She shoved down the urge to roll her eyes. Yeah… this lot had definitely bought into the take what they wanted thinking of other species.

“One, I’m not in heat,” she said, turning slightly as they fanned out to surround her. That was a bad move, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. They’d chosen this corridor with care. Three were already positioned in the shadows in front of her while three more blocked the way back to the intersection behind.

One“And two, how dare you assume I would choose you for my bed?” she demanded, her voice ringing with command and authority.

twoShe might never have ascended the throne, but that didn’t mean she was any less regal. She was the daughter of a queen, who was the daughter of a queen and so on, back to time immemorial. There was even a Brood queen in her lineage. And these fuckers thought they could just rock up and lay claim to her?

Had she been a queen in a hive ship, there would have been a choosing on the sands. Males would have fought to the death for the chance to join her harem or maybe even become her consort. But no male could meet the needs of a queen in heat on his own, so there hadn’t been a consort for years, maybe even generations.

“Not asking,” the male replied, clicking instructions in the back of his throat as he marshalled his small clutch into position to attack. She didn’t tilt her head or give any indication she understood the subvocals. She wasn’t supposed to. Queens did not lower themselves to learn the language of clutch fighters. Unless that queen had been brought up hidden among them.

Her expression hardened as she prepared herself to fight. These assholes were getting on her last nerve. He was correct. Queens did need a harem, but regardless, the choice of who joined that harem was always down to the queen, not the males who wanted her. Especially not males who thought they could just take what they wanted like these assholes.

Especially“Good, because you wouldn’t get permission,” she spat back.

The male behind her launched into an attack, the slight scuff of his clawed foot on the floor warning her a split second before. Spinning in the blink of an eye, she blocked. Her scales rose and his claws skittered across her arm without gaining purchase. Twisting, she slammed a hard fist into his solar plexus. The blow almost caved the center of his chest in as it sent him flying backward, but she didn’t get a chance to either admire her handiwork or regroup.

In the blink of an eye the rest were on her. The world narrowed down to blocking the next kick or punch or raising her scales to avoid claws looking to open her skin.

Her heart sped up as she was forced to dodge and weave, fighting off five at once. The sixth was still down, clutching at his chest and wheezing. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t shattered several of his ribs. Krynassis females were generally stronger and faster than the males. Unless of course, they’d been weakened by months of s**t rations and sleep deprivation. Fighting five on one didn’t help much either.

Within minutes she was in trouble, gulping air like a deep sea Navarr out of water. Not able to keep up with the rapid-fire hits, she concentrated on keeping her scales flared. Bruises she could deal with but losing blood would take her down quicker than anything else. All she had to do was hold on and look for an opening.

Spinning on her heel, she spotted one and lashed out with a hard leg. Slamming it into the side of the male setting up for a full-on attack, she flipped around him and used the momentum to kick higher. The talons on her toes sliced across the throat of the male behind her. Even though they were smaller and more compact than those on her fingers, they were still razor sharp and tore through the scales and flesh at the front of his throat. Thick blood cascaded down his front, making him look like he was wearing a scarlet bib. He staggered back and the others howled, the sight and scent of blood sending them into a frenzy.