The Nanite WArrior: Black Angel Series, #1

By Rhobin Lee Courtright

At age fifteen Xandra became a Natal Dragoon, a super-soldier. Now at twenty-six, after years in stasis, she finds herself a claimed wife.

Not letting Nickal claim his prerogative in the heat of an interrogation, Ithan spoke. "I claimed you to wife, Xandra, on the flight back to Abode."

Her reaction wasn't what either man expected.

She laughed, weak, spindly, but a laugh. "Bad luck just won't end, but this time, I'm sure yours is worse than mine, husband."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613091647

Book preview

One

COMMANDANT ITHAN VAN Garth swayed with the movement of the heli, but confident in the pilot’s ability, disregarded the turbulence. Wind at this altitude remained as strong as at the lower elevations. Aginfeld had held an atmosphere for only three centuries after over seven hundred years of forming the planet for sustainable life, but the air remained oxygen light and susceptible to extreme turbulence. If he looked downward out the small view window, he knew he would still see the ancient roadway built between Abode and Van Garth when the planet held no atmosphere, an even more dangerous way to travel. Danger and turmoil seemed to define Aginfeld, and that thought only led him to more reminiscing and conjecturing about his current situation.

The heli dipped and he grabbed the arms of his chair, instinctively looking out the view window with its view of Aginfeld’s vivid but barren rock landscape. He traveled at his lord’s insistence, but he also brought a relief unit of Enforcers with him for those stationed at his home habitat. While he controlled every man and woman in the Enforcers, some of Aginfeld’s best, well-trained, courageous, and dedicated citizenry, he remained subject to his lord’s whims. At least as long as Lord Van Garth’s desires didn’t countermand Ithan’s duty or Aginfeld law.

Turning his attention back to the report he was reading, he tried to concentrate on the listing of crimes committed throughout the ten habitats and the resulting investigations. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t pinpoint the problem. Instead, his mind wandered back to what his lord wanted from him this time. His appointment to Enforcer Commandant came after his predecessor Nickal McDirk had unexpectedly inherited the lordship of McDirk Habitat. Since then, Lord Van Garth had taken more interest in him, or rather, the information he believed Ithan could provide.

He sighed, ignoring his reports. If not information, the lord probably had another wife selected for him, since habitat medical had recently confirmed his second wife infertile due to age. Without a fertile wife, Ithan realized he had once again become a commodity for alliances between the habitats.

He also knew Geeta would be glad. She had always hated marriage, or more precisely sex. With him. Both of his wives had been far older than he, Geeta by fifteen years. Was that why he’d never taken pleasure in his relationship, or displeasure in the lack thereof, with either wife? Yet one daughter proved his fertility, and the end all be all of Aginfeld’s society was increasing population.

He huffed. Even with an influx of hopeful immigrants, which had only led to a more duties for his Enforcers in interviewing and vetting these potential citizens, old Aginfeld custom remained well-defined. The number of fertile men and women remained low. Habitat Van Garth still held a negative birth rate, so his lord felt obligated to keep the traditional marriage alliance custom alive. However, Ithan didn’t want another arranged marriage.

Many lords, as did his own, feared the influx of fertile immigrants. The new émigrés could breed their way to a majority, overpowering and destroying the native Aginfeld population. History of how the original settlers had fought and struggled to maintain the habitats, and the Colonial Pact’s perfidy when it became apparent a livable planet would finally be achieved, made many Agin’ers afraid of losing their heritage: Aginfeld. Three-hundred-fifty years ago the Colonial Pact had returned the colonist’s stored embryos. Only later did the Agin’ers learn the Colonial Pact had genetically altered the embryos, and that damage continued to haunt the habitats. Since then, any genetic manipulation was unlawful. Only two habitats had managed to reach an even birth-death rate or a slightly increased birth rate.

When Agin’ers attacked and killed the Colonial Pact operatives on Ferik Station, the company had the planet and station boycotted as a rogue population. It had been a reprehensible plot: kill the colonists by damaging the population’s genome just as the planet began to become habitable, and when that didn’t work, let a long exile kill off the remaining population. Either way allowed the Colonial Pact to reap the unimaginably vast rewards of the planet afterward. Their ploy had almost worked.

Ithan huffed. The Colonial Pact had underestimated Agin’ers’ determination, perversity, stubbornness, and ingenuity. Nickal had ended another of the company’s stratagems to gain the planet just last year. They still argued through Earth National’s courts how Aginfeld owed them for services in helping establish the colony before the boycott.

He rubbed his neck and his lips formed a bleak, satirical smile, and he snorted in frustration at his situation. Since his former commandant’s resignation last year, many changes had taken place in Aginfeld’s habitats. McDirk had singlehandedly reignited the tradition of wife-claiming off-world women. His claiming gained strong ties to a social prominent Earth National family. Maybe he should follow Lord McDirk’s path and seek his own wife. It couldn’t be any more disastrous than Lord Van Garth’s selection.

His office door opened. I’m glad you find humor in tossing around this way, Randall James, his bodyguard, said. His officer’s face showed his internal distress as he brought Ithan’s dog Leid into the compartment. Leid walked unsteadily forward and plopped down next to Ithan’s feet. He petted the smooth dark head, and Leid licked his hand. Outside of his daughter, Leid showed the only unrestrained affection Ithan knew, and he only saw Jeresh once a month. Fasten yourself in, Randall. He tossed his man a small container of stomach-soothing tablets as his officer finished buckling his restraints.

I wasn’t finding humor in the turbulence, but was asking myself what possible reasons my lord could have for summoning me.

He’s most likely found you a new wife. Randall confirmed his own suspicion.

Ithan looked at the guard’s snide face. I sincerely hope not, I have enough problems without taking on another encumbrance. The craft suddenly dropped and tilted. Ithan grabbed the table’s edges to steady himself. Leid jumped up, or rather floated, to his feet. He whined. Ithan ordered him down again.

His message tender lighted and chimed. He accepted the message. His second in command, Florin Wradech, faced him on the screen. Commandant Van Garth, an emergency situation has developed which you are in the best position to handle. Surveillance on Ferik has located a small UFO coming into the atmosphere near your flight path, perhaps another mineral pirate.

Small predatory ships often tried to infiltrate the planet, since the rich mineral veins of Aginfeld were detectable from space. Show me.

His tender filled with information, and it was clear something was headed into Aginfeld very close to where they flew.

Thank you, Florin, we’ll handle it. He closed the link.

If it’s a comet, you know we are doomed, his ever-pessimistic guard stated.

If it is a comet, yes; depending on the size, it could be devastating. Take joy, Randall, this appears much smaller than an apocalyptic encounter. An unenthusiastic grunt answered him. Ithan opened communication with his pilot and told him to change course, sending the information and coordinates.

Course direction made, sir, estimated arrival eleven minutes; currently tracking object.

I’m coming forward. He ordered Leid into his dog cage. Leid walked to the cage with his head down, grumbled when the door shut, and settled down with a sigh. Ithan left the compartment with Randall on his heels, an ever-irksome but necessary presence his former boss had imposed on him.

In the flight compartment, he took a seat behind the pilot and his copilot handling the transport craft. Randall took the seat on the other side of a small cabin. Two other flight assistants worked at their stations in communications and navigation inside the small compartment behind him.

I could have shown you the screen from your compartment, sir, the pilot said in an overly polite manner that indicated his indignation at his commandant’s presence.

I’m well aware, but this is more convenient for me. Plus he enjoyed the view out the craft’s windshield. He switched his attention to a fast-moving blip on one of the pilot’s screens.

Approximately five minutes to visual, sir, I’ve changed course so the craft is coming in parallel to our path.

Craft?

Yes, small short term space vehicle is my guess, a shuttle or smaller vehicle, probably another mineral squatter.

Then we’ll catch them red-handed this time, the co-pilot said.

The blip on the screen enlarged and began to take shape. The identification sensor flipped through possible configurations and finally settled on a very small craft. Ithan breathed in sharply and heard other suppressed but stunned sounds from his crew.

His pilot swore. Lord, an old Astrocorps manned targeting space flyer. What in hell is it...? The screen exploded in a shock wave of blasting white energy. Well, whatever mission of disruption it was on has ended. It crashed, and it was carrying quite a destructive payload, sir.

I noticed, Ithan said. It was carrying a destructive payload.

Thank the lord it didn’t hit any habitat, Randall said. Bad as a comet.

Should I alert headquarters, sir? the communications officer asked.

Yes, but make it clear that the ship was a decommissioned class, and that I do not believe the Astrocorps has attacked Aginfeld. Fly over the site, Ithan ordered as the sensors picked up another even smaller blip. Within seconds the identification sensor identified an image which became a recognizable shadow on the screen. A body with arms and legs outstretched fell through the atmosphere.

Holy shit, sir, that’s the pilot. We picked up the body tag. The pilot quickly tracked the crashed ship’s pilot. He’s at fifty-thousand feet, sir.

With Aginfeld’s stronger gravity, it would be a faster transit than Earth training allowed, but the body continued to fall for what Ithan felt an interminable time.

He’s at three-thousand feet, sir. Looks like he’s going to crash with Aginfeld, too, the copilot said.

The falling body suddenly jerked backward and upright as a parafoil deployed. His downward speed drastically changed and the shifting wind affected the parafoil’s direction and trajectory. The sensors followed the parachutist down to his landing many kilometers from the crashed craft. With some satisfaction, Ithan saw the winds dragged the man for some distance over the rough land before stopping. The body didn’t move.

Hard landing, the pilot said in satisfied amusement. Have the location pinpointed, sir.

Five minutes later, his pilot fought the wind buffeting the craft to land his heli. Standing to move to the ship’s exit, Ithan found the way barred by Randall. You can’t disembark, sir. It’s too dangerous.

I’m going to give my men orders, he said, nudging Randall to the side. Four Enforcers stood, already suited for outside and preparing to leave the craft. After a thousand years of terra-forming, Aginfeld remained a dangerous and untenable landscape, and according to sensors a windstorm brewed. Get the body and bring it back on board ASAP, but take no extraordinary efforts— if the pilot cannot be collected easily, leave him, Ithan ordered.

Within ten minutes they returned with the man and the parachute. The creases in their suits scattered trapped sand and pebbles as they moved into the heli. The pilot they brought with them wore a silver flight suit and a high altitude space helmet. The dark-lens view shield obscured the face. An oxygen tank hung from the chest straps of the flight suit, its tube running to the helmet.

Strap in, came an order from their pilot. It’s going to be a bumpy takeoff. Everyone complied, leaving the body tethered to the heli’s deck anchors. In a minute they were in the air.

We are closer to Abode, Ithan shouted his order to his pilot as this area of the craft was far noisier. Cancel the flight to Van Garth Habitat and head back to the Enforcer landing deck on Abode. He kept his attention on the pilot tied to the floor.

Noting the pilot’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, he loosened his restraints despite a warning from Randall. Several hands reached out to restrain him as turbulence bounced the craft. Shrugging them off, he let his past medical training come to the fore. He heard numerous other restraint locks release. Ithan grasped the helmet’s attachments, unlocked them, and began to slowly remove the helmet. Get an oxygen mask ready, Randall, he looked at his men, find out our estimated time to landing and warn the port. Carefully removing attachments and hoses from the helmet, he finally pulled it off.

My God! Randall said as he returned. He’s a girl.

Copper colored, short-cropped hair fell back from the face, and while clearly identifiable as female, whether attractive or ugly could not be determined due to facial bruising.

Give me that. Ithan took the equipment Randall carried. As he lifted her head, the pilot’s eyelids slowly opened and something tightened in Ithan’s chest. She gazed at him through bloodshot eyes with startling dark, smoky-sapphire irises before passing out. Her bluish lips and too pale skin warned him of her danger. The bruise on the left cheek was dark purple, with a split lower lip, so older than any injury from the flight. He recognized a face punch when he saw one. Finished fixing the oxygen mask and a medical sensor in place, he shouted his order over the engine noise, Emaciated... and hypoxic. Tell the pilot this is now an emergency flight, tell landing to have medical available for my wife.

Other voices fell silent around him broken a breath later by his bodyguard. Randall swore. Are you crazy? he asked, his voice an emphatic shout.

Probably, but all of you are witnesses to my claiming this woman to wife.

You don’t even know if she is fertile, Randall protested.

As he took moves to secure his new wife’s life, Ithan answered. I’ll take the chance. Most off-world women are. Help me get this flight suit off her.

As they revealed the life support garment underneath, two neck chains fell loose, one in an undecipherable language, the other a Colonial Pact ID.

You stupid bastard, Randall said, looking at him. Hastiness never earned good.

Two

As the heli settled on Enforcer Precinct’s landing deck, Ithan heard the massive doors moving into place overhead to seal the port. Ithan rose and snapped his fingers. Leid followed at his left heel. He followed a few steps behind the stretcher carrying his new prisoner-wife. Randall walked on his right side.

He knew he should feel far more upset with his idiotic action. His claiming, certainly in his own mind, ranked as the most outrageous and strangest departure from Agin’er behavior ever, and he could guess what Lord Van Garth would think. After all, while McDirk had claimed his valuable prize before she was beheaded for crimes against Aginfeld, he already knew exactly who she was. Ithan knew there would certainly be repercussions over his claiming, especially since his wife was obviously on the Colonial Pact payroll. Yet somehow his decision made him feel more in control of his own life, even made him feel adventurous. And certainly he had thwarted Lord Van Garth’s plan. No potential wife would marry him now.

The Enforcers’ medical team, led by Doctor Branduff Tik-Slade, tall and blonde with his habitat’s heritage, already waited on the landing deck as he emerged from the ship. His presence caused Ithan some dismay. Aginfeld’s Sovereign Comyn Tik-Slade was the doctor’s cousin, and the sovereign would surely learn of what had transpired quicker than Ithan could make any report.

Doctor Tik-Slade glanced at him, taking a second from his examination of his new patient. Thank God, the message said it was you we would be treating.

Don’t know how that miscommunication happened. He smiled as the doctor’s face relaxed. They had worked together for years in the Enforcers, and had become friends due mostly to Ithan’s medical background.

Take care. You handle his wife, newly claimed, Randall spit out in gruff disgruntlement. Must be the position...making too many decisions disturbs the mind and causes even clever men to make rotten personal choices.

Ithan threw his bodyguard an expression that ordered him to desist, since the doctor had done something very similar. Randall huffed and fell into position.

She is off-world. Her flight crashed, and she must have decided to halo-jump to escape.

Tik-Slade gave him a prolonged look before he turned his gaze to the medical reader on the woman’s neck. His medical team transferred her naked body to the waiting treatment carrier. More than one took a second glance at the firm musculature of her long frame. Beneath her life support garment, they had found another wound, a short but deep slicing wound that left dried blood on the inner support garment, and a small tag pulled from the muscle, hanging outside the body from the wound, wires still connected it to the body. Don’t touch that, Tik-Slade ordered his team. He read his medical reader. Close the medical carrier and increase the pressure, let’s get her to the infirmary, Tik-Slade told his team while he finished connecting various tubes and equipment. Within two minutes the three medical personal were rushing the carrier to the infirmary in the Enforcer Precinct.

Before following the medical team, Ithan spoke to the officers awaiting his orders. Take the flight and life support suits to discovery, explain the situation, and tell them to see what info can be learned.  Tell tech to track that ID tag, and as soon as the weather clears, send out another flight to inspect the crash site. Have the crew collect the debris and take it to the science lab. They might be able to tell us something, even if it’s only flight data information. Make sure there are no transponder devices left.

He looked around the deck. His men worked storing equipment, cleaning, and securing the just-landed heli. Already the landing circle slowly rotated, moving the heli to the correct position to be moved into line with the other atmospheric craft parked in a semi-circle around the landing deck’s perimeter. The hum of equipment, voices, and the distinctive scent of the bio-fuel lingered in the air.

His wife waited. The thought drew his attention and he left the landing deck.

BEFORE ENTERING THE infirmary, Ithan ordered Randall to take Leid to his office. Randall protested, but Ithan gave his standard response for dismissal of his personal guard. We’re in Enforcer Precinct. Your time is too valuable to tail me. Take charge of coordinating the assignments I just gave out, gather the information, and get it to me.

He watched Randall leave. Another problem. Randall did his duty to the letter, but seemed constantly unhappy. He needed a more challenging duty than standing by Ithan’s side. Yes, once bodyguards were necessary when habitat one-upmanship and vengeance thrived. All the habitats had crime. Abode, because of its population diversity, had more crime than all the others put together, except Lakeesh, whose lord had been put to death a year ago for his treasonous involvement with the Colonial Pact, and his heirs dispossessed.

Humans didn’t change. They quarreled, brawled, rioted, lied, stole, raped, murdered, and sought revenge, especially when trapped in confined quarters. The habitats had been places of refuge and safety for a thousand years—to the point the population feared leaving them, yet the citizens were also captive to their human nature and their forced confinement. It kept his Enforcers busy. However, the last two years had changed society. Lords no longer routinely sent out assassins. With food imports, the time of aggression between starving habitats had ended. The psychosis, fears, and mass deaths encountered during Aginfeld’s three-hundred year exile were over.

Ithan took a deep breath. Hopefully.

The planet’s vast mineral wealth and soon, habitable land, its new alliance with Earth National, gave hope for a better future. Its defeat of the Colonial Pact’s second