Dark Horizons Read online

  Roberts shrugged. "It's hard to say. The last ikthian prisoner anyone managed to retrieve was over six months ago. Our intel is a little old." He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "But if she turns out to be useful, it makes you a damn hero, Taylor. You deserve a rest. A vacation on some island, peace and quiet, no one to give you a hard time…" The commander’s thoughts seemed to wander. He was no doubt picturing the downtime time he craved as well. "But we don't have time for that in the middle of a war."

  "Understood, Sir." Although Earth itself was heavily guarded and had not seen any violence from the Dominion yet, their outlying colonies were bogged down in a ground war that the humans were slowly losing. It was a constant struggle to defend the borders of the solar system, and the ikthians grew more and more irritated by their rebellion with each passing year. They were patient creatures, but they considered the humans impudent.

  "Take the rest of the day off, Lieutenant," Roberts said. "The brass will debrief you in the morning. Besides, I think they want a little time to interrogate the prisoner first."

  Taylor frowned. Something about the ikthian she had captured still did not sit right with her. She wished she knew why the ikthians had stopped firing during her escape. Ikthian seekers were known for being relentless in the pursuit of their quarry, and they were nearly always successful. “It’s odd that they gave her up like that,” she mentioned. Roberts raised a brow at her. “Usually, they shoot first.”

  The commander studied her for a moment before hoisting his feet up on the desk. “So what does that tell you about the prisoner?”

  “Well, it says a lot, considering the ikthian was wounded when I found her.” Roberts nodded, encouraging her to continue. “And she didn’t make any attempts to kill me, which means she was either too weak or thought her chances were better here. Maybe the seekers were going to kill her. But if that’s the case...” Taylor’s thoughts wandered. The whole situation felt wrong, but Roberts watched her with an expectant stare, as if the answer lay in plain sight. “Some things are worse than death, Lieutenant. Our prisoner was most likely running away from whatever that is.”

  “So they needed her for interrogation.”

  Roberts nodded. “I think she knows something.” He glanced out the window, observing the San Diego coastline in the distance. “And it’s important enough that the seekers want her back alive.”

  Taylor watched Roberts fold his arms over his chest and sigh. “What will the others want to do with her?” she asked. For most people on base, prisoners were a bartering chip, not a source of Intel.

  Roberts frowned, a crease developing in his forehead. “Well, that’s the problem. The generals will want to trade her back for resources or something, and the politicians will want to do a hostage exchange. Both are safer options in the long run.” He ran a hand through his graying hair. “But you don’t need to deal with this, Taylor. That’s what I’m paid for. You should go enjoy the rest of your downtime.”

  "I'm not sure what I'll do with an entire day off," Taylor said, her tone slightly less formal now that Roberts had basically dismissed her.

  Roberts smiled, standing up and putting a hand on her shoulder. He had always been close to Taylor on a personal level as well as a professional one. Over the years, he had become more of a mentor to her than a strict superior officer. "I'm sure you'll find some trouble to get into," he said, letting his hand drop as Taylor headed for the door.

  On her way out, Taylor paused and turned back for a moment. She remembered the prisoner pinned to the shuttle floor, bleeding out. Jackson dying right before her eyes again. "Sir? What's going to happen to the prisoner after she's interrogated?"

  "That depends on what she has to tell us. Hopefully, it will be something useful. I expect you here at 0800 tomorrow, Lieutenant." Taylor saluted and left the office, not entirely sure why she had asked that question. The prisoner was only an ikthian, after all.

  Chapter Three

  As Taylor exited the building and stepped outside, the sun warmed her face and caught her eyes with its bright gleam. The sky was clear despite the tendency for early morning fog, and she tried to manage a smile. San Diego's weather was better than most places, but it still had a fair share of cloudy days. Still, she could not complain. At least she was alive to see them.

  Before wandering across the field to the mess hall, Taylor decided to stop in her quarters and change out of her armor. It would be a good idea to leave her weapons behind before she did any more wandering. Clearing a checkpoint with an assault rifle or pistol was a pain otherwise.

  It did not take her long to arrive at her bunk. The room was small, but it was all hers. Taylor was grateful that her rank afforded her more privacy than the communal barracks. Once she had set her weapons aside, she stripped and hopped into the shower. Until the shuttle had picked her up, she had been groundside for several days with very little in the ways of comfort. The warm water soothed the ache in her back, but she tried not to linger in the shower. Wandering thoughts were the enemy at the moment.

  As she finished drying her hair with a worn towel, her stomach growled. Food had also been a scarcity on the mission, though the meals in the mess hardly counted as food either. She threw the towel away in a hurry and began pulling on a fresh pair of fatigues. Even though her stomach was still tied into knots, she knew she had to put something in it. Her body felt weak after what she had endured.

  Once she reached the dining hall, Taylor stepped in line with the rest of the soldiers waiting for their dinner. She stood in her spot patiently, aware that she looked extremely out of place amidst all the men. The military had recently discouraged women from joining because the high casualty rate had significantly dented their population. If the humans were expected to hold their ground, that meant having children who could fight in another thirty years. There had been a woman in Taylor’s squad, but she had been taken out in the initial ambush.

  "Hey, when did you get back?"

  It took Taylor a moment to realize someone was addressing her. She recognized the voice and turned to smile at Rachel Harris, one of the few other women remaining on the San Diego base. "Maybe an hour ago," Taylor answered. She turned back to the line and accepted her tray of rations. "How are you?"

  Rachel gave a dismissive shrug. "I've been on base. I don't have stories to tell. But you…you just got back from the front lines. Now that's something I want to hear about…if you want to talk about it, that is." Her hesitant tone suggested that rumors had already managed to crawl through the ranks. Taylor was not surprised. Of course the whole base knew something had happened before she had even gotten her first meal.

  "Let's find a table first," Taylor said, deliberately dodging the question. "Hungry?"

  Rachel made a disgusted face. "You know, I could never do seconds for C rations."

  "Good point." The two of them found a table in one of the far corners of the mess hall, somewhere that would discourage people from coming over and talking. Most of the men had learned to avoid Taylor after her repeated threats to kick them in the balls. Rachel hardly discouraged the attention, though Taylor had seen her threaten to snap a guy's finger off when he grabbed her ass as a joke. He never repeated the incident.

  "So, you want to talk about what happened?" Rachel was blunt by nature, but since it was usually paired with empathy, Taylor did not mind her direct way of speaking. In fact, she usually preferred it. It was one of the reasons they got along so well.

  "There isn't much to tell. Seekers took out my entire squad. The bottom-feeders cut them down like animals. I'd rather not think about it for a while."

  "Can't blame you," Rachel said as she stared at Taylor's plate. Apparently, she had changed her mind about seconds. Taylor pushed the tray into the middle of the table so that Rachel could steal a piece of her nutrient dessert bar. She had never been particularly fond of them anyway. She remained silent for a few seconds, considering how much she should tell Rachel. No doubt news of the prisoner would spread lik
e wildfire through the base, and Roberts had not ordered her to keep any of the information classified.

  "I barely got out in time," she said eventually. "I ran into another ikthian—a civilian, I think…and when the seekers saw me with her, they stopped firing long enough for me to get onto the evac shuttle."

  Rachel's eyes widened. "So it's true? There's an ikthian on base?"

  "I guess they have her in interrogation now. I'm not sure how much help she'll be. Like I said, I think she's a civilian."

  "None of the ikthians are civilized," Rachel said, and Taylor nodded her agreement.

  Thinking about the ikthian made Taylor's stomach twist in an unpleasant way, so she changed the subject. "So, how have things been back on base?" she asked as Rachel chewed her stolen bite.

  "Same. Doom and gloom about the war effort. The brass keeps trying to cover it up. Andrew turned out to be a good lay." The confident smirk on Rachel's face indicated that Andrew had been more than a good lay. Taylor shifted in her seat. "What?"

  Taylor shook her head. "I’m just not good company right now," she mumbled. She took one more bite out of her rations, but the sandy texture did little to convince her of its edible status.

  "So why don’t you make way for some better company?" Andrew's rough, deep voice was the only warning Taylor got before the private slumped down onto the bench next to her, causing the whole table to rattle. Taylor glanced over at him and tried to decide if his muscles had gotten even beefier in her absence.

  "Andrew, I swear I will kick you in the—"

  "Hey, relax. I know you don't want to be anywhere near my gross man junk." He winked at Rachel from across the table. "I've got other beautiful ladies for that."

  "Perhaps one beautiful lady?" Rachel asked, placing emphasis on the 'one'.

  Andrew swallowed and turned to Taylor. "So, how many nuts have you actually cracked, Morgan?"

  "I don't know," she said dismissively.

  "I've seen her do it," Rachel said. "She kneed a superior officer in the groin once after he tried to get too physical with her. Didn't even get reported for it."

  Andrew snorted. "That's awesome." He eyed the tray of half-finished rations. "Anyone eating that?" Taylor wordlessly passed the tray over to him. He began making short work of the remaining food. "So, they say you captured an ikthian," Andrew said around a mouthful of ration bar. Rachel clapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. Taylor just tried to shrug it off.

  "I guess the entire base is already talking about it," Taylor sighed. "Yeah. We stumbled on her in the middle of a firefight."

  "I've never seen an ikthian in person," Andrew said.

  Rachel's eyes narrowed, and her lips twitched into a brooding frown. Taylor recognized the expression on her face. Even though Rachel had been stuck on base for the past several months, she had seen action before, and she had faced the Dominion's forces. She knew what they were capable of. "Hope you never have to, Andrew. Their toxins can kill you in less than a minute, and they train their children as warriors from birth."

  "It’s hard to imagine. They don't look very intimidating."

  "Spend a day on the front lines," Taylor said. "You’ll see." The face of the ikthian she had captured pushed itself into her thoughts. She had looked very young, and if she had been human, Taylor would have guessed her age to be mid-twenties at most.

  "Tell that to my superiors," Andrew said as he finished the nutrient bar Rachel had started. Neither of them objected. "Anyway, there are so many rumors about the ikthians that I can never be sure what’s true and what’s made up."

  "I've heard that they'll fuck any alien species," Rachel added, making a disapproving face. What little of Taylor's appetite remained vanished completely.

  Andrew opened his eyes wider, a look of disbelief on his face. "Really?"

  Rachel tossed her hair. "You wish, Andrew. I seriously doubt you're going to be kidnapped by ikthians and forced to have sex with them any time soon. Besides, they drug your mind. They release pheromones to make you attracted to them."

  "Still doesn't sound so bad to me," Andrew said. "They're gorgeous."

  "They're deadly," Rachel insisted. "Do you really want to have sex with something that can kill you just by touching you?"

  Suddenly, the echo of Jackson’s screams filled Taylor’s ears. She remembered the way he had died, his body jerking and twitching in the seeker’s grip as the toxins flooded his nervous system. It took her several moments to find her words. "Let's hope the one I captured doesn’t try that." For some reason, even though she could picture Jackson's death clearly, she could not imagine the timid ikthian prisoner harming anyone.

  "Yeah, that's a bit of a libido killer," Andrew admitted, standing up as well. "But that's all right. I have...other opportunities." He gave Rachel a meaningful glance.

  Taylor tried not to watch the two of them make eyes at each other. She stared at her empty tray instead and stood from the table. "Well, I'll let you guys explore those opportunities."

  "Aw, come on. We can cool it a little longer." Andrew stood up and tried to block Taylor's path, but she stepped around him.

  "I just got back from hell, Andrew. I'm tired."

  "Oh." She could hear the disappointment in his voice, but knew he would not press her to stay any longer. She took the food tray back to the front of the mess hall and left for her quarters. As she passed other soldiers, some of them cast sidelong glances at her. She knew they were only wondering what had happened on the latest mission, but their stares felt accusatory anyway.

  Taylor left the mess hall and hurried across the field, heading back to her own quarters. Her room was a bleak mess of discarded clothes and dirty, dented armor. She managed to scrounge up enough energy to throw some of her fatigues into the laundry chute before collapsing on her bunk. The small bed was barely wide enough to hold her sprawling limbs. She closed her eyes, expecting to see Jackson again, but her mind kept wandering back to the ikthian she had taken prisoner. The memory of her numb stare haunted Taylor until she fell into a fitful sleep for the night.

  Chapter Four

  Hands gripped Maia's arms, pushing her through a dark room and slamming her onto a cold table. She cried out as one of the humans forced her face to the side, pinning her to strap her arms and legs down. Light flooded the room, and she saw operating tools gleaming under the fluorescent bulbs. She swallowed. Her throat was too dry. She had tried to tell the humans she needed water, but none of them had listened. They did not understand her language.

  A cold cloth came in contact with the back of her neck, and more fingers, pressing, prodding. The skin had gone numb, but she could still feel the pressure. "Hold still." The words echoed uselessly in her head. They could mean anything. She pulled against her restraints, but they remained securely in place.

  One of the humans knelt in front of her. He held up a speck of an electronic chip and brought it to his neck, pantomiming the actions he would take on her. The humans were going to do something to her. "I don’t understand," she said, but the words meant nothing to him.

  The human lifted his shoulders—who knew what that gesture meant—and walked away. Maia thought about talking again, but before she could get any words out, she felt the pinch of a needle at her neck. Her vision began to blur. She groaned and tried to raise her head, but her muscles refused to cooperate. Fuzzy colors swam in front of Maia’s eyes, but the fingers at the back of her head remained, prying at her neckfolds. It almost seemed like they were searching for something. A sharp edge began slicing through the top layer of skin. Somehow, Maia knew the sensation was painful, but her brain refused to transmit any feelings at all except for a strange, uncomfortable pressure.

  Her translator, she suddenly realized. They were going for her translator. Her arms pulled weakly beneath the restraints again, trying to stop what was happening to her. Although she could not understand the humans anyway, the thought of having her words taken from her was terrifying. Without her translator, only another ikthia
n would be able to understand her, and who knew when she would see her own people again? Part of her never wanted to, since most of them were trying to kill her.

  A few moments later, the blade at the back of her neck pulled away. "The damn things even have gills," a voice beside her said. Although the cadence of the words still sounded awkward to her ears, Maia could understand them. "I’ve never worked on a fish before."

  "Come on, let’s get this over with," another voice said from nearby. Through the colorful streaks in her vision, Maia saw something white being passed over her head. "Stop the bleeding. I don’t want to keep touching it."

  More words came, but Maia’s hearing started to fade. Icy liquid rushed down the back of her neck, chilling the length of her spine. Blissful numbness removed the last traces of discomfort along the side of her neck, and she let out a sigh of relief even though she knew that she was anything but safe. Her hands went limp in their restraints, and a comforting blackness began to swallow up all of the blurry colors before her eyes.

  She blinked, trying to push back the approaching darkness. Her vision darted everywhere, trying to find a hint of what the humans might be doing next, and her eyes caught at a window. More humans stood on the other side of the glass pane, watching her. Even as her vision swam, she had to marvel at the genetic variance in the creatures. They stood there, each one a different shade from the other. Even the hair was different. She spotted a human with spiky, dark hair and darker skin than some of the others. She looked familiar, almost like the human who had run into her on Amaren.

  Maia blinked again. It was the same human who had captured her. She gasped as she felt something prod the back of her neck, and the human’s gaze met hers through the window. Maia remained focused on those dark eyes. The human looked hurt somehow. Perhaps saddened? Or maybe Maia was projecting her feelings onto the human. She had no idea how they behaved, or how they felt. In fact, she was having a hard time holding onto her own thoughts at the moment. The more she fought against the creeping chill and the darkness threatening to press in around her head, the more she seemed to slip away.