Leko: Lunar Uprising, #3

By Cyndi Friberg

Hating aliens is Julia's family business. Can Leko reach beyond a lifetime of resentment and teach her that love knows no boundaries?

 

Leko, a powerful lunar raider, is working undercover in an anti-alien militia when he encounters Julia. Instantly he knows she is his mate, but he came to Earth to uncover a Morax plot, not succumb to bonding fever.

 

Julia knows there is something special about Leko. She has never reacted to anyone the way she reacts to him. Still, she refuses to consider the reason. Circumstances soon throw them together and force her to face the truth. The "man" she is falling in love with is an alien, and her father is not what he seems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cyndi Friberg
• Release date: Apr 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201443450

Cyndi Friberg

Passionate Sci-Fi with a touch of danger and a whole lot of sass. Cyndi has written about rock stars, vampires, and cat shifters, but she’s currently focused on outer space. Her stories are fun, fast-paced, and seriously hot. Her books have made the USA Today Top 100, and frequently land on Amazon Best Seller lists. She is currently working on the Shadowborn Rebellion, a spin-off series set in the Outcasts universe.   She loves to hear from readers: [e-mail] https://facebook.com/fribergc https://twitter.com/Cyndi_Friberg

Book preview

Chapter One

N o more compromises ! Hank Levitt’s voice rang out in the large metal shop that had once housed the equipment needed for his five hundred acre farm. "The Pylorian scum destroyed our livelihood and brainwashed our children. They drew us into a war that has nothing to do with us then created a race of soulless abominations to protect us from their enemy. Now their bloodthirsty henchmen want to breed with our women. I say enough! He paused as the word echoed, then added. We’ve surrendered too much already. It’s time for action."

Julia Levitt stood near the back of the cavernous building, watching the crowd react to her father’s speech. It wasn’t just idle curiosity. Her job was to assess the attendees, figure out who was here because of casual interest, and who had the burning resentment shared by all the organization members. The River Valley Militia was a rapidly growing network of disruptors founded by her family. Their father was the face and voice of the movement, but Julia and her brothers all played their parts. These monthly gatherings, which took place in strategic places all over the U. S., were meant to stir up financial support and recruit new soldiers.

We took the aliens at their word, naively believing their lies. Hank paused and shook his head. We can’t afford to be that trusting again or we will lose this planet.

She agreed with the basic concepts, but the actions her father called for became more violent every day. The Pylorians lied. No one could argue with that. Earth was at war with the Morax because humans foolishly believed the Pylorians when they claimed to be helpless victims of a ruthless enemy. They claimed that the Morax could not reach Earth so humans risked nothing by allowing the Pylorian spaceships to land and transform into self-contained cities. It had all been utter bullshit of course.

The Pylorians knew all along that the Morax were already on their way. Morax ships were slower so the Pylorians had a few years to dig in and prepare for war. Digging in meant they made humans so dependent on Pylorian technology that expelling them would not be an option. Preparing for war meant cultivating an army of super soldiers who would do the actual fighting. According to the Pylorians, lunar raiders were not sentient. They were bio-electronic machines not unlike the ships they flew. They might look and sound like humans, but they were highly sophisticated machines.

The justification left Julia cold so she dug around on dark web news sites, private nodes, and unregulated servers to find out everything she could about lunar raiders. Everything regarding aliens on the regular internet had become homogenized and monolithic. Dissenting opinions and alternative views were no longer allowed. Like brainwashed drones, Earth’s governments and corporations spoke with one loud voice. Aliens were here to help us. We should thank God that the Pylorians chose our obscure planet to grace with their technology.

The dark web was hard to navigate and Julia had about given up when she stumbled across a conversation between two lunar raiders that someone had captured with their cell phone. Much of the exchange could have been attributed to the same sort of logic in AI programing, but one raider mentioned a team member that had been lost during their last mission. The reaction of the other had been shocking.

We have lost too damn many in the past few weeks. I wish we could— His expression went blank and his head seemed to vibrate, eyelids twitching, as if he were being shocked. The subject line of the post read, Sophisticated computers or mind-slaves?

Horrified by the implication of the recording, Julia dug deeper. At first she found nothing. No one seemed to understand what the raiders were or how the Pylorians created them. Then her best friend Addison told her about the Oracle.

One of my employees told me about the podcast, Addison began. I listened the first time just to see what all the hype was about, but the Oracle is riveting. They know more about what’s really going on than anyone else on this planet, including our government officials.

Julia rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help it. Addison was attracted to drama and nothing was more dramatic than alien conspiracies.

I can make you apologize for that eye roll.

The challenge in Addison’s tone made Julia ask, How are you going to do that?

Once a follower has been fully vetted and proves themselves faithful, the Oracle issues an invitation to their private server.

Faithful followers generally belong to religions—or cults. Julia arched her eyebrows. And why do you keep referencing to the Oracle with a plural pronoun? Is it a gender thing or is there more than one Oracle?

Addison tensed, her annoyance starting to show. No one knows if they’re male or female, so we all just stick with they and them. I know you won’t take the podcasts seriously, but I want you to read one of the reports the Oracle posted on the private server. If it doesn’t convince you that the Oracle knows what they’re talking about I’ll buy you dinner.

So Julia read the report. And then reread it. There was more detailed information in that one report than she had been able to uncover in months of searching. According to the report, the Pylorians started with the genome of Dox Tory males. They were a warrior race from the Pylorians’ home star system. To this they added segments of Morax and Pylorian DNA. The hybrid’s genetics were then modified triggering characteristics and abilities that matched the specific role each soldier would play. The actual cultivation process took between eight and sixteen months. A few months of practical training followed, and voilà an army of millions was ready to defend Earth in less than three years.

Lunar raiders were not mindless machines. They were sophisticated hybrids who were being controlled by the ruthless Pylorians. Those conclusions were Julia’s. The report didn’t draw conclusions of any kind. It simply listed the sequence of events. All Julia knew for sure is that she had more questions than answers. What was life like for the lunar raiders? Were they allowed to experience anything but war? What happened to the ones who refused to fight, or were they even allowed to refuse?

After three sleepless nights thinking about the plight of the captive army, Julia told her father what she’d learned. His reaction had been disheartening to say the least. He told her they had two alien species to worry about already. He didn’t have time to take on a third. He insisted that the only way to end the mistreatment of lunar raiders was to annihilate their masters. Her brothers echoed his position.

Addison continued to pass on information and Julia read it with an open mind. The more she learned the more frustrating she found her family’s attitude. She wasn’t sure what their little militia could do against such a monumental wrong, but she fervently believed they should do something.

Then three months ago one of the lunar raiders found a way to disable his control system and the truth was catapulted into the light. They took control of the moon and declared it an autonomous country. The moon was now known as Lunar Prime and lunar raiders became self-governing.

Did anyone set off your alarm? Kyle, the youngest of Julia’s four brothers moved to stand beside her. With golden-brown hair and hazel eyes, they both resembled their mother.

Dismissing her troubled thoughts, she looked over the sea of faces gauging their expressions and reactions to her father’s impassioned speech. She didn’t consider herself psychic, but she had an inherent ability to accurately spot troublemakers. Not really, she concluded. It’s just the usual.

David, Jess and Billy, her three older brothers, were from her father’s first marriage. All three had Hank’s dark hair and eyes, as well as his explosive temper. There was an eight year break between Billy and Kyle. She was the only daughter and she’d been born fourteen months after Kyle. Because of the age gap between the two sets of siblings, Julia had always felt closer to Kyle than her other brothers.

Is the Paris Massacre helping or hurting us? Kyle asked when she offered no more information.

She responded with a helpless shrug before elaborating, Everyone is pissed off and terrified. Lunar raiders were literally created to protect us. How are we supposed to react to what happened? One of their ships, supposedly a rogue, had slaughtered millions in and around Paris in a matter of minutes. The attack had been unprovoked and the other raiders insisted that the commander and crew were being controlled by the Morax. Julia wasn’t sure what to believe.

Pylorians. The Morax. And now lunar raiders. Hank paused in between each species with the dramatic instincts of a consummate showman. He was a fifth generation farmer. Why was he so good at this? They all have one thing in common. They’re aliens! Hank boomed, in full on preacher mode now. Aliens cannot be trusted! Even the ones who claim to protect us can turn violent in the blink of an eye.

Kyle chuckled then shook his head. Clearly, Dad is using France as a recruitment tool. This is the largest crowd we’ve had in months. It might be a blessing in disguise.

Shocked by Kyle’s nonchalance and her father’s manipulation, she tensed all over. Eleven million people lost their lives in France, yet all her family seemed concerned with was membership. Suddenly wanting the conversation over, she said, Check with the others but I don’t see anyone out of the ordinary.

I already talked to Billy. He brought home a couple of strays and wanted to see what you think before he tells them about Hawthorn. Hawthorn Hideaway was the name of their training camp. It had once been a corporate and family retreat. It sat abandoned for several years so Hank had been able to pick it up cheap. The renovation had taken almost a year, but the facilities and secluded location served their needs perfectly.

She looked around, but didn’t see Billy. Where is he?

They were right there. Kyle motioned toward the back corner of the room by the open doors. They must have gone outside.

He headed for the other side of the room in search of Jess and David, so Julia made her way outside. She’d had enough of her father’s rhetoric for one night anyway.

The late autumn night enveloped her in tranquility so Julia paused to enjoy the calm. The air was cool and a sky full of stars twinkled down at her. Thank God the sweltering heat had finally mellowed. Fall was her favorite season, always had been. She didn’t mind the rain and never tired of the vivid colors of autumn leaves.

She walked along the gravel path that led from the outbuildings to the main house. Rocks crunched under the soles of her boots. Cars and trucks had been parked haphazardly on the grass lot between the shop and the barn. She glanced around as she walked but didn’t see Billy or his strays.

A secret smile curved her lips. Now she could honestly tell Kyle she’d looked for Billy but didn’t find him. Her enthusiasm for the family business had been dwindling steadily over the past three months. Pylorians and the Morax deserved their antipathy. Lunar raiders, however, were in a class by themselves. Yes, they were aliens, but they were victims of Pylorian manipulation and deceit just like humans.

At least that was how she felt until the Paris Massacre. Many worried that raiders were emotionally unstable, that Pylorians had installed the control system for very good reasons. Their immediate and selfless response to the tragedy made that hard to believe. Every raider ship not actively creating a defense network around the planet flew to France, providing medical care and helping with the rescue and recovery efforts. Of course, internet trolls even twisted that, claiming that they attacked Paris to give themselves an opportunity for heroics.

Ruckus laughter drew her attention toward the barn. The large door had been rolled open and light spilled out from inside. Billy and his two strays stood just inside the open doorway. At least she presumed these were Billy’s strays. Her brother motioned her over then turned his attention back to his guests. Billy was likable and fun to be around, unlike the rest of their overly-serious siblings. His favorite recruitment site was Milligan’s, a roadside bar just visible from US 65. Judging from the volume and rowdiness of their conversation, they might have lingered a bit too long in the bar.

Well it wasn’t my idea, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her no. And cleaning up afterwards was the best part. The story teller was blond and handsome in that All American athlete sort of way. He wore jeans and a black bomber jacket. It was the standard uniform for a bad boy. Unfortunately, he was too pretty to make the look convincing. His voice had a pleasant timbre, and she detected the hint of an accent in his speech.

Did you ever see her again? the other stray asked. He was older and rougher looking, more the sort Billy usually attracted at Milligan’s.

The storyteller shrugged and his gaze shifted toward Julia. His eyes were sky blue. A couple times, but it never got serious.

Billy noticed the direction of his stare and waited until she reached them. This is my sister Julia. Jules, this is Lee, he indicated the storyteller, and Dale.

She shook hands with Dale and then Lee. Welcome.

It’s nice to meet you. Lee’s fingers lingered around hers a bit longer than necessary and tingles rippled up her arm.

Do you live nearby? She pulled her hand out of his grasp and crossed her arms. He didn’t make her uncomfortable per se, just restless and oddly aware of his touch.

Not anymore, Lee told her. I grew up in Fayetteville.

Which one, she smiled. Despite the purpose for the conversation, she found his laid back charm intriguing. There are a bunch of them.

Really? He returned her smile. I meant the one in Arkansas. Where else is there a Fayetteville?

There was no hint of a southern drawl in his speech and something about his eyes made her uneasy. "There’s one here in Missouri. Tennessee and Alabama both have one.

I think there is one in Georgia, Billy joined in.

There’s definitely one in Texas, Dale volunteered.

Lee chuckled. I had no idea, my hometown was so popular.

Not sure what to make of Lee, she shifted her focus to Dale. What brings you to our neck of the woods? This place is a little off the beaten path.

I hang drywall, so I go where the work is. Dale’s hair and eyes were dark, as was the scruff along his jawline. His expression was open and she didn’t sense anything unusual about him. Just finished an apartment complex in Branson but there is nothing else available in town. Thought I’d head up to Springfield. See if I had better luck in a larger city.

They haven’t built a robot that can hang drywall yet? Billy arched his brows. I’m shocked.

It’s just a matter of time, Dale agreed. Guess I better learn how to play the piano or belly dance. Isn’t that how they sell all this automation? It will give you time to pursue your dreams. Sarcasm sharpened Dale’s tone as he uttered the last sentence and resentment twisted his features making him look older and meaner. That’s fine if you’re a poet or a painter, but what the fu-heck are regular folks supposed to do?

Billy nodded, allowing bitterness to fill his voice. They won’t be happy until the entire human race is obsolete.

Billy’s agreement lit a fire under Dale. His dark eyes gleamed and his lips compressed, then he blurted, My best friend owns a fencing company. Four years ago he had twelve installers. Paid them well and kept them busy. Now he has two ‘operators.’ They haul the freaking robot from site to site and stand there watching while it works. My friend is still feeding his family, but the installers are either unemployed or barely scraping by doing handyman crap for old ladies.

Billy looked at Julia, silent question clear in his eyes. If Dale’s story was true, and her instincts said it was, he was the ideal candidate for deeper involvement. She nodded. Billy would tell him the basics tonight and then send him home. A couple of days from now, he’d make contact again and see if Dale was interested in the training program.

I promised Dale another beer, but Lee is on the wagon, Billy told her. Would you mind showing him around while I take Dale inside? Clearly, Billy was still on the fence about Lee.

Sure. There wasn’t anything overtly troubling about the younger stray. She just didn’t have a clear read on him yet.

Billy and Dale walked off toward the house and silence fell over the barn. The tense awareness she’d felt when she shook his hand returned with a vengeance.

You don’t have to babysit me, Lee told her. If I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’ll head back to the hotel.

You haven’t overstayed your welcome, but I can’t help wondering what you were doing at Milligan’s if you’re ‘on the wagon.’ She’d determined long ago that anyone scared off by directness wasn’t worth recruiting.

He chuckled and strolled deeper into the barn. Have you ever spent nine hours on a motorcycle?

She looked at him askance. Did this have something to do with his being in the bar? Can’t say I have. Cautiously, she followed him but stayed in plain sight of the open door. He seemed harmless, but looks could be deceiving and she wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks.

"I was saddle sore after the first