Alien Outcast

By Tracy St. John

She escaped to Kalquor to warn the empire...but did she bring its destruction instead?

When a rogue Kalquorian raider snags a Bi’isil cruiser in Empire space, the outlaw crew is hoping for supplies. Instead, they find a Tragoom and an Earther woman with a dire warning: Bi’is is set to unleash a fatal plague on the Kalquorian Empire.

Piper Warren, with the help of her friend Ob, has faced death to save the Kalquorians from utter destruction. Instead of help, she stumbles on a ship filled with men who swear no loyalty to anyone but themselves. Can she convince them to set aside their lawless ways to save their people?

Captain Nako turned his back on Kalquor after Fleet Command decommissioned his raider. Abandoned by his government, he swears he will never lift a finger to aid them, not even against the traitor Dramok Maf and his fleet. With the new Bi’is threat, if Nako doesn’t do something, the empire will fall and its people will die.

Nako’s Nobek clanmate Terig is as fierce as they come. However, his shameful past destroyed a once-promising career, and leading his men into battle can only end in defeat. But how can he refuse when utter annihilation is racing straight to Kalquor?

Dual breed Imdiko Ulof is a terror to anyone who crosses him. Leaving broken bodies in his wake, the ex-convict struggles with equally broken dreams. No one can tame him, until a beautiful Earther and an unlikely new friend show that belief has the power to heal all wounds.

The survival of Kalquor depends on this unlikely band of misfits. Clan Nako learns that love for an Earther woman can make heroes out of outcasts...until they discover that Piper harbors dark, deadly secrets of her own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracy St. John
• Release date: Jul 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463901021

Tracy St. John

Tracy St. John is the author of science fiction romance, including the bestselling Clans of Kalquor series. She lives in Georgia with her husband and son, fending off mosquitos and running from hurricanes. Before settling in to write fulltime, she worked in video production, in front of and behind the camera. She was often cast as the gun-toting bad gal, getting handcuffed in the end. She hopes that hot alien cops will intercept those videos and investigate. Soon.

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Clans of Kalquor 12

ALIEN OUTCAST

Tracy St. John

© copyright June 2018, Tracy St. John

Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright May 2018

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

events is merely coincidence.

Smashwords Edition

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Prologue

The Kalquorian Empire is a civilization of great importance to the Galactic Council of Planets. The fierce but intelligent species has been at the forefront of technological, medical, and scientific breakthroughs for millennia. Their military might has never been in question. Even their ancient enemy, the opportunistic race of Tragooms, hesitates to attack a Kalquorian force half its size.

However, Kalquor’s survival is in jeopardy. The force which threatened this mighty race wielded no weaponry. It couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. It was a virus.

Centuries ago, this virus struck the home world of Kalquor, wiping out a substantial number of its people, particularly the females. Symptoms included massive bleeding of the body’s major organs, along with those of the female reproductive tract. Damaging the X-chromosome of the Kalquorians, the virus’s effects went beyond death. The majority of women not killed outright were rendered infertile, and daughters born to those who could bear children weren’t guaranteed the ability to do the same. The virus altered the very DNA of the entire race.

To keep from going extinct and prevent fighting amongst the men, family groups called clans were formed. Each clan was made up of one female known as the Matara (childbearer or ‘lifebringer’) and representatives of each of the three breeds of male: the Dramok (leader), Imdiko (caregiver), and Nobek (protector).

Despite their efforts, the numbers of Kalquorians continued to decline. So few children were born that extinction was thought by many to be inevitable. Despite their medical expertise and attempts to find compatible species to mate with, the Kalquorian culture seemed destined to disappear.

Nearly two decades ago, a scout ship from a small, isolated planet no one knew of flew into the Galactic Council of Planets’ space. These newcomers, searching for new planets to house the overflow of their ever-growing population, called their home planet Earth. It was immediately remarked upon how similar they were to Kalquorians. The doomed race took note, and hope was restored. It was theorized that perhaps the Earthers were the fabled Lost Colonists of Kalquor’s ancient ancestors.

Earth, however, wasn’t enthralled with their potential distant cousins. Ruled by a government based on fanatical religious beliefs, Earthers were taught they were God’s Chosen. They looked upon Kalquor with hostility, growing outraged when the beleaguered inhabitants of that empire suggested compatibility testing for purposes of interbreeding.

The leaders of the Kalquorian Empire, feeling they had no other recourse, decided the time had come to seduce Earther females and convince them to come to Kalquor. Women on Earth were treated as lesser creatures and second-class citizens by their government and religion. The Kalquorians, with their near-worship of females, hoped to entice these lifebringers to join their clans. If the women would not be seduced, Kalquor was no longer above the distasteful necessity of abducting them outright.

Almost two thousand Earther women went to Kalquor, putting the empire and Earth at each other’s throats. Then the unthinkable happened: an Earther woman joined the aliens’ ruling clan, making her Kalquor’s empress. Earth declared war.

The fighting was horrific, with Earth’s greater numbers slowly overwhelming Kalquor’s more advanced technology. With its already dwindling numbers reaching crisis stage, the Kalquorian Empire was desperate to find a way to win the war and secure its future. They staged an invasion of Earth itself. Earth’s answer was to set off nuclear explosions beneath its own major cities, devastating the population and dooming the planet.

Most of the survivors have been rescued by Kalquor. Some women, traumatized by their experiences under Earth’s tyranny, have dared to start anew with the Kalquorians. There are still too few to guarantee Kalquor’s survival, and they are held by most of the alien men in the highest regard.

Not all Kalquorians are happy to have the Earthers among them, however. Some are determined to see Kalquor go extinct rather than mix the species. ‘The Basma’ Dramok Maf spearheads a rebellion, putting Kalquor in the grips of a civil war. He has allied himself with the despised alien race from the kingdom of Bi’is in his efforts to restore Kalquor to purity…though that will doom the Kalquorians to extinction.

A threat neither the empire nor Maf dreamed of is poised to finish Kalquor forever, long before civil war or the effects of a long-ago virus can kill the last of that proud race. All that stands in its way are the most unlikely of heroes, the outcasts of their societies. They’re the unwanted and the unforgiven…and they are Kalquor’s last, best hope.

Chapter 1

Between Ob’s pain-filled squalls and blaring alarms, Piper couldn’t hear herself think. Things were bad. She had a feeling they would get worse.

As if to prove her fears, a red light flashed on the stolen shuttle’s console, diverting her attention from the star-pocked vid of the space ahead. She pointed and shouted over Ob’s yells. Something new. What’s that?

The Tragoom managed to come out of his hunched position in the seat next to her. He usually sat head and shoulders over Piper…he was a mass of rock-hard alien, despite being a runt among his kind. His pained breaths whistled past his tusks as he peered at the panel in front of Piper with tiny, streaming eyes.

The translators on their slave collars were as dispassionate as his voice was strained. Chasing ship coming faster. Catching up.

A jolt of terror shot through Piper, though she’d suspected as much when Ob’s collar had activated minutes before. Her shaking hands wavered over the control panel with its varied buttons and etched Bi’isil characters. How do I force the shuttle to exceed safe limits on velocity? We have to go faster!

Ob’s thick finger, which was one of two that made his hand appear to be a cloven hoof, slammed on the console. Hull buffers recalibrated. Now top speed.

He continued to batter the resilient surface, making up for her poorer piloting skills. Piper winced, expecting craters to appear where his fingers landed despite knowing better. The Bi’isils built their vessels to withstand the hard use of the Tragooms they often enslaved.

She’d learned a little about interplanetary travel during her enslavement and a lot about reading the Bi’isil language. She blinked at the star chart that depicted the route Ob had plugged in. You’re changing course to that heading? Won’t that take us straight into the Kalquorian Empire? Ob, they’ll kill you there as fast as the Bi’isils will!

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he grabbed the collar delivering horrific punishment to his nervous system, twisting at it in an instinctive effort to stop the pain. It didn’t matter that he knew it was impossible to avoid its effects now that their pursuers were within activation range.

Someone on the ship chasing them had Dr. Wari’det’s punishment commands. Most likely, they were trying to activate her collar too, though Ob had damaged it so that it no longer worked.

Was Wari’det on the pursuing craft himself? Was it possible?

No, he can’t be. He’s dead. I’m sure of it.

Despite the torture, Ob wheezed and the translator spoke. No choice but Kalquorian Empire. They kill me, but you can live. You can tell.

Damn it, Ob! She hadn’t kept him from execution to spare her own worthless skin. Piper studied the star chart in desperation. We should be going to Galactic Council territory.

Too far. Never make it. Kalquorian space only chance.

The vid displaying the stars ahead suddenly rippled, as if it lay beneath water that had been disturbed. She stared harder, thinking stress was playing havoc with her senses, but the view rippled again.

Ob put his pig-snouted nose to the controls, as if he’d snort the buttons. He was trying to peer at the hull readouts through his tear-blurred vision. He straightened again. Despite shaking with agony, his hoof-fingers thudded over the controls once more. Pursuer blasting. Hunter-killer.

She gasped. They brought out the big guns? For a couple of house slaves?

They must know that we know. That you took records. They see where we go. Kalquor will save you for the information, if we reach their system before we die.

A thud shook the whole ship. Um, I doubt that’s happening. We’re hit.

Grazed. Hunter-killer not in lethal range. We get to border before they can destroy.

But not before they could cripple us, leaving us dead in space and waiting for the final blast.

She didn’t believe for a single second that the shuttle they’d stolen from Prince Yel’ek, made for luxury rather than speed, would beat their pursuer to Kalquorian territory. She did her best to help the moaning Ob pilot anyway. At least death might come quickly, which was more than she deserved.

Poor Ob. He couldn’t have picked a worse ally.

Chapter 2

Isn’t that precious? Ulof smirked at the vidcast. The news report shimmered on the console of Nako’s semi-private cubbyhole where the pair sat. Ancestors, what a production.

Nako grunted and turned up the volume on the vidcaster’s tinny voice. Shut up. I’m not losing what few minutes we have of a clear signal to listen to you.

Ulof snorted and shoveled lunch in his handsome face. Nako did the same, marveling in the back of his mind how his Imdiko could concoct delicious meals on the most rudimentary of rations. He inhaled deeply, enjoying how the stew canceled out most of the musty scent of the raider. They’d been out of port for a long time.

His attention riveted on the news vid, on the latest seismic changes rolling out of the Kalquorian Empire’s capital. The vidcaster reported, A longtime advocate for nontraditional clannings, Matara Candy Dixon was the first to celebrate the new law allowing such unions. She formalized her clanship to Nobek Stidmun yesterday. The pair have been involved in a relationship for over four years.

Nako spoke around a mouthful of food, talking over the reporter. Damn, that means I can dump you and Terig and have a woman all to myself. He grinned, feigning an easygoing attitude.

Nonetheless, he watched Ulof carefully to ensure his clanmate realized he was joking. He never knew when teasing might be taken badly. When Ulof got upset, stuff broke. Bones, usually.

Ulof chortled as he offered a rude gesture to his Dramok. It would be worth unloading you, just to see you dress up like that pretty Nobek.

Oh? Do you have a secret love for Nobeks with perfect features and fancy clothes? Don’t let Terig hear you say that.

Ulof ignored him. Better yet, you could wear that woman’s gown. You’d be gorgeous, layered in a cargo hold’s worth of lace.

Nako joined him in laughter at the idea of his scarred carcass encased in an off-the-shoulder gown with a ten-foot train. I’d do it to have such a lovely creature on my arm. Or under me.

Which one? The Matara or the Nobek?

That’s a good question. What’s the empire coming to, when a member of the warrior breed is as lovely as a Matara? I’m uncertain which of them I want to fuck more.

Ulof laughed harder, then choked on his food, bending double as he clawed at his throat. Nako slammed his fist between the other man’s shoulders until Ulof sat up, red-faced and gasping. Ugh, thanks. He shoved another wad of food in his mouth and stared at the vid again. If I have to put on anything beyond my dress uniform to clan a Matara, I’d as soon go without her.

Do you even know where your dress uniform is? Nako examined his own duty formsuit. The knees, shoulders and elbows were shiny from two years of constant use. The way things were shaping up, he’d soon have to wear his fancier duds on a daily basis.

I have no idea where I stored it. Why? Are you counting on me to lure in a woman for you?

I can catch my own woman, I should hope.

Of course you can, my Dramok. But it would be beneath you to take advantage of an unconscious female.

Unconscious?

She’d have to be in a coma to stick around a jerk like you.

Nako chuckled, more at the impish smile his clanmate wore than the excellent jibe. When happy, Ulof had all the boyish charm of a full Imdiko, a man who would dote on those he loved. His expression was open, changing an almost forgettable attractiveness into heartbreaking sweetness. At a moment such as this, no one would suspect Ulof’s Nobek side existed…a side that was violent and unmerciful when roused by anger.

Ulof’s darker instincts were easily wakened, something often forgotten when he looked so appealing. A rush of warmth filled Nako at the too-seldom joy in his clanmate’s wide-set eyes. He had an urge to comb his fingers through Ulof’s perpetually tangled hair, to stroke his cheek.

Nako was in danger of not only that, but also of saying something unforgivably mushy when Ulof’s expression turned furtive. I don’t suppose this change in the clanning laws would make it worth our while to return to home sweet home?

Just that fast, the charming instant ended. A sharp response stung Nako’s tongue, but it too was thwarted at the sound of a warning ping. Instantly on alert, he swiveled his hover chair to face the rest of the raider’s bridge, where the crew’s background mutter of conversation had halted.

His gaze went to the large vid at the forward section, displaying the raider’s heading, power levels, and a blip on the sensor readings. He stood and headed toward the weapons officer on duty, who was staring at his computer podium. Report, Subcommander.

Terig’s brilliant purple eyes, set in a face as scarred as Nako’s, riveted on him. You’d better have a look at this, Captain. Putting visual on main screen.

Nako was aware of Ulof on his heels, the Imdiko’s lumbering steps a loud counterpoint to his own silent tread. He ignored him, swiveling from Terig to the vid his Nobek clanmate had brought up.

A Bi’isil hunter-killer chasing a pleasure craft into empire space? Despite his current status with Kalquor, Nako’s hackles rose at the sight of enemy craft venturing across the border.

Ulof sounded as affronted as Nako felt. Enlighten your head cook, Captain. Those are both Bi’isil vessels, aren’t they?

Terig answered him, probably intuiting that Nako would want a few seconds to digest the situation. Indeed, they are, my Imdiko. Weapons Commander, report to the bridge.

Nako’s scowl deepened, drawing his skin tight. He preferred Terig to remain in charge of weapons for such strange circumstances, but protocol…along with other issues…meant that Nobek Sesin should be present.

Having granted his captain and Dramok those few precious seconds to absorb the state of affairs, Terig ventured to ask, Should we let the hunter-killer destroy the other before we stomp ass?

Nako shoved his frizzy hair away from where it fell over his eye. As amusing as it would be to watch carnage in either case, I’m curious why a Bi’isil prince is coming under fire. Not to mention, why he’s running into empire space to escape.

A prince? Ulof frowned at the lozenge-shaped shuttle darting in a desperate dance to avoid its chevron-contoured foe as the hunter-killer set off a barrage of blasts. As they watched, the shuttle suffered a hit. Its marker lights went dark, indicating the ship had lost power. The warship moved in, its bright white lights forcing Nako to squint as he watched.

Those red markings are house sigils, indicating the Bi’isil ruling class. The number and size tell me the vessel belongs to a mid-level prince, of which Bi’is has many.

From the looks of things, I guess the fight is over.

Seems that way. Terig, de-cloak and remind the hunter-killer that this is Kalquorian territory.

Involved in their battle, the Bi’isil ships had apparently failed to scan for power signatures that would have told them a camouflaged vessel was near at hand. The helmsman, Nobek Girek, put Nako’s raider nose-to-nose with the chevron before de-cloaking. Quick as well as lethal, the hunter-killer reversed at once, barely avoiding Terig’s point-blank blast.

It took heavy damage, enough that it didn’t bother to return fire. It shot straight toward Bi’is space, racing to escape.

Terig scowled, his teeth flashing in the darkness of his beard. I missed their engines. Fuck.

It was a nice surprise, nevertheless. The Bi’isils will be fumigating that ship for years due to the spontaneous shitting that just erupted. Nako grinned at Ulof’s guffaw, enjoying that elusive smile. His Imdiko was having a good day.

He got back to business. What’s the reading on that prince’s ship?

Dead. There should be enough air for whoever’s on board to keep him alive for the next hour. A little less, if there are more than two on board.

Nako aimed his attention at his com officer. Nobek Atar reported, No com signal. Their com emitter was disintegrated in that last blast. We have no way to question the little fuckers, unless it’s done in person.

Weapons Commander Sesin strolled onto the bridge as the report was completed. He definitely strolled. Or maybe he sauntered. At any rate, his gait was as lazy as the eyes that blinked in his fleshy face.

Nako ground his teeth together. So good of you to join us, Weapons Commander. Lead a team to that cruiser. Bring the ranking member to me. Kill the rest.

Sesin glanced at the shuttle on the vid. He did a double-take. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to follow events once he was alerted to the bridge. He’d had no idea they were dealing with Kalquor’s second-oldest enemy. You want a live Bi’isil, Captain? Brought to this ship?

If only the fool had elected to return home when Nako had abandoned the fleet. That was my order. Do I need to repeat it?

Ulof eased a step away. Girek and the navigator, Nobek Ruek, watched the unfolding drama with avid expressions. Nako hated repeating himself, and everyone knew it. When he had to give an order twice, it was usually accompanied by a severe beatdown.

Even Sesin realized the threat he was under. He bowed, his greasy black hair swinging forward to hide the scowl Nako was certain had erupted. When he straightened, he’d reverted to his usual expression…a lethargic malice, as if he hated everything in sight but couldn’t be bothered to destroy any of it.

Subcommander, you’re with me. Have two security officers join us.

Yes, Commander. With a half-grin for Nako, Terig followed Sesin off the bridge.

Ulof took his leave as well, his arms full of his and Nako’s lunch trays. He gave a parting shot as he left. I look forward to hearing how this plays out. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Sesin will accidentally space himself.

Nako bit back a retort, though he shouldn’t have accepted his head cook insulting a senior executive officer. But Ulof was right. It would do the raider so much good to lose its current weapons commander.

Terig had to step up, because the way things were going, that worthless piece of shit Sesin wasn’t long for this life. Sooner or later, he’d screw up bad enough that there would no longer be any question of him being relieved of duty. Terig was next in line for the position, and there was no way Nako would skip over him to promote someone else. Not if he was to maintain order on the raider.

It’s past due my Nobek put his past behind him and reclaimed his role as a leader.

Chapter 3

After Sesin gave his orders to the boarding team in Security’s staging area, Terig had to talk fast. Commander, I agree it will save time and effort to attach an umbilical passageway between the raider and the shuttle. Unfortunately, we may end up facing hostile Bi’isils and their slaves. That would mean a firefight. We might lose the high-ranking prisoner the captain wants, as well as having to fend off an attempt to capture our vessel.

The weapons commander blinked at him, slow-witted with laziness. Speaking quickly, as Terig had, usually confused Sesin enough that he went along with whatever his subordinate suggested.

He’d better agree with me and change his plan. Otherwise, Nako would have reason to lose his shit. Terig’s Dramok had enough crimes on his head without adding a murder charge to the list.

As he waited, the dullard scowled. Sesin weighed his options for more than three seconds, for a change. He pushed himself to five before he relented.

Finally, he nodded. Fine. We’ll take a shuttle over and board from that.

Good call, sir. Terig knew Sesin had capitulated because he disliked the amount of energy he’d have to expend to repel an attack. The weapons commander had turned indolence into an artform.

They armed themselves and left the raider. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the drifting Bi’isil craft.

There was no resistance when they attached an umbilical between the two small ships. Terig triggered the enemy vessel’s hatch, his blaster at the ready. It opened without a pause.

No contingent of Bi’isils and slaves waited to defend themselves. What Terig could see of the dimly-lit cabin beyond was a confusion of miniscule tables and upholstered seating arrangements, everything a uniform, featureless gray.

Huh. Maybe they’re all dead. Sesin kept his hopeful voice low.

The hull’s intact. Interior from this vantage point looks whole, though the jolt might have knocked them senseless. Terig wasn’t buying it though. Someone had to be ready for their boarding party. His well-honed senses insisted on it.

Sesin swept into the Bi’isil ship, crouching to keep from banging his head on the low ceiling. Terig and two other Nobek security officers hurried after him, pointing their weapons in different directions to cover the space.

Silence reigned, as if the disabled craft held its breath. The smell, heavy in the sweltering heat within, was all that assaulted them. The rancid stench of Tragoom overlaid the dry odor that reminded Terig of dead bugs. There was something else, a sweetish-salty aroma he couldn’t put a name to.

The cabin was empty of life, and less than a second after their entrance, the group turned toward the opening to the cockpit. Sesin stopped short, and Terig walked right into his back. Choking off a curse and the abrupt urge to snap his superior’s neck, he shot to one side. He crouched low, using an overstuffed chair in the cramped, overly furnished cabin as cover. He pointed his blaster at the slight figure which had surprised Sesin.

Fuck.

Neither Bi’isil nor Tragoom. She was a creature legendary for the lack of her kind in Terig’s spacegoing life. He’d seen a few Earther women, but mostly on vids. He’d caught a few quick glimpses of the small females during leave on Kalquor or other colonies. Never up close.

His pulse pounded in his ears. More distracting, it drummed in his suddenly alert cocks. He drank her in during a split second of shock.

Her hair was the pale gold of hazy noon sunshine in the summer. It flowed in ocean waves to just past her slender shoulders, framing a vision made of pastel blue eyes, high cheekbones, pink lips, and a quivering chin. The silver metal collar circling the long column of her neck spoke of her slave status. Her legs, elongated by the high hem of her sheath dress, seemed to go on forever, though she would only stand to Terig’s nose. She faced them with her legs far apart, as if bracing herself for some shock. Wide open, the lines of her perspiration-dewed inner thighs pointed up, to lead him straight to her…

Then the moment was over, duty reasserting itself in the Nobek’s stunned brain. He was the only one to regain his senses, judging from the drop-jawed silence of the other warriors, including their supposed leader, Sesin.

Terig’s voice was harsher than usual. Where is your Bi’isil master, Earther?

Her gaze settled on his face, and he wondered what she thought of him, with his exposed arms and lean face mapped with old scars. Such a pretty female should have been repulsed by so many marks of violence. Yet she showed no revulsion, only the type of fear he’d expect from someone facing the unknown. She wore the demeanor of a woman trying to decide if she encountered friend or foe.

The last time I saw my master, he was bleeding to death on the floor and calling me names I won’t repeat.

Her soft, twangy voice tickled Terig’s ears. On the lab station? It was the closest Bi’isil habitation to the border with Kalquor. A spark of respect for more than the woman’s looks sprang to life. You attempted escape, and no one activated your collar to stop you?

My collar is broken. They couldn’t use it against me.

A low groan emitted from the cockpit beyond her. Apparently, the other three Nobeks had snapped out of their surprise while Terig and the woman spoke, because everyone went on alert. Stiffening at the change in the Kalquorians’ attitudes, the Earther shifted, covering more of the passage between the two sections with her slight body. She moved her hand, which had been hidden behind her skirt and incredible thigh, to a defensive posture.

Terig fought off a grin, but not because of the knife she held. It was