The Build Up (Darkstar Mercenaries and Dark Planet Warriors Short Stories)

1. Abbey

ONE

ABBEY

I stand on the balcony, drinking in the stillness, luxuriating in the sensory tapestry that is Earth.

After being in space for so long, I almost forgot how it feels.

The cold, smooth concrete against my bare feet. The vastness of the star-sprinkled night sky rapidly deepening into perfect black.

The smell of petrichor carried on the warm breeze.

We’re back.

Everything’s okay now.

The disquiet is gone.

The constant niggling; that unpleasant fluttering in the pit of my belly—it’s disappeared.

It was the uncertainty, the not-knowing , the feeling that there was some big unknown threat lurking out there.

It’s gone now.

Tarak dealt with it.

As usual, he didn’t tell me all the details, but I figured out what happened from snippets of conversation here and there. My friends are quite astute and observant, and Noa—who was directly involved in the whole operation—isn’t secretive like the Kordolians.

The newest addition to our tribe, a surprise telepath from this corner of the world called Jade, is no shrinking violet, either. A good match for the Silent One

Noa and Jade were more than happy to explain the chain of events.

The hostages. The apparently mad but not-what-he-seems prince—Xal’s twin brother.

An ancient Zor portal that could send a person back in time.

That one sent a chill through me when I learned of its existence.

I know enough about Kordolians to understand that some of them could have done some very bad things with it.

But being the pragmatic man that he is, Tarak had it destroyed.

“There should be no other possibilities. This is the only version of reality that I want,” he told me afterward. “ This existence with you.”

He can be terribly romantic sometimes, even when he’s deciding on the fate of the entire Universe.

Well, the portal’s gone now, and Tarak’s enemies have been defeated, thanks to the inside information he received from Amun Kazharan.

Tarak made Earth’s Federation cede to his terms.

He brought us back home.

The feeling of disquiet is gone, and it’s been replaced with something so good— kicking.

This one, this little offspring of Tarak and mine, is a kicker, more so than Ami ever was. It’s like Bub is doing kung-fu in my uterus.

Five months now.

Not long to go.

We don’t know the gender yet.

Being the control freak that he is, Tarak wanted to know straight away. Maybe he already does. Kordolian tech can probably determine it through molecules in the air or something like that.

But I decided not to find out.

While I was stuck on Silence with the Universe raging around us, it was a sliver of control. The choice to not know. To let fate decide.

Because it doesn’t matter whether our child is a boy or a girl. Either way, it’s a miracle.

Tarak and my child.

Can we actually start living a normal life now? Is the danger gone? Have all threats been neutralized?

Neutralized? I shake my head as the breeze turns into a gust, ripe with the promise of rain.

Sometimes, I worry I’m starting to sound a bit like him .

The wind dances around me, making the distant trees sway.

And then, they start to fall.

Big, fat raindrops. It’s a tiny patter at first, quickly coalescing into a downpour.

I look up to the sky, filled with awe.

This phenomenon never ceases to amaze me.

Rain in the desert.

It happens so very rarely—maybe once a year or less—and it won’t last for long, but the creeks will be full for a few weeks afterward, and the wildflowers will bloom in a riot of color. Birds will flock to the newly formed waterways to feast on temporary abundance.

I extend my hand, collecting fat droplets on my palm. The scent of rain on red earth is intoxicating.

So real.

So alive.

I missed this so much.

I missed Earth.

Can we be normal now?

Not really.

Because of who I married, things can never be normal again, but I can still appreciate the only planet in the Universe that will ever really feel like home.

Sweet, incomparable Earth.

“Hm.”

When I hear his voice behind me—that deep, rumbling expression that could mean a thousand different things, depending on the inflection—I’m not even surprised.

Not anymore.

My husband moves like a wraith. He doesn’t mean to. It’s just how he is. At first, his stealth used to startle me, sometimes even irritate me. He adjusted by becoming intentionally loud whenever he approached—with a word or a sound, a scuff of his foot, or a rustle of a limb against his body.

It no longer bothers me. I’ve grown used to it, just as I’ve become accustomed to his Kordolianness.

He reaches my side and curls his arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest on the swell of my belly. As always, his touch is both tender and possessive.

He’s gone and put our child to sleep, as he’s done every night since we returned to Earth.

Making up for lost time.

We look at each other, saying nothing.

And just as I stare at him in mild awe—the feeling never grows old—he regards me with a deep red gaze that turns almost inky-black in the fading light.

Stars, he’s so magnificently alien that it takes my breath away.

How must I look to him right now—standing barefoot on a balcony, sticking my hand out to feel the rain?

“You like this phenomenon, don’t you? Water, falling from the sky…”

“There’s a sense of relief about it,” I explain. “In this country, we go through long dry spells where the vegetation goes brown, and the earth becomes hard. The creeks run dry. The birds migrate to greener pastures. It gets bloody hot, and everyone goes a little bit mad. And then, the rain comes…”

As if to illustrate my point, a jagged spear of lightning falls from the sky, casting a flash of light across the horizon for a split-second. A crack of thunder isn’t far behind.

It’s close.

Tarak chuckles—a low rumble that reverberates right into my bones. He’s wearing nothing but a loose pair of trousers. Home wear. Unguarded. Relaxed.

It should be rare to see him like this—to have him all to myself like this—and yet he seems to be able to make so much time for me.

“We could terraform this place,” he says. “Change the atmospheric temperature so it rains more often. Create rivers and lakes. Accelerated-growth vegetation could quickly form a forest.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I say, placing my dry hand against his hard torso, exerting a little pressure. “There are bilbies here. They’ve only just returned after hundreds of years.”

Yes, I’m the kind of person who will protest against some development or other because of some rare native species in the area. I’m not averse to the idea of putting farms in space, but this ecosystem is so rare and delicate that it should be protected at all costs.

Tarak’s broad chest rises and falls in a swift rhythm—too fast for breathing. It takes me a moment to realize he’s chuckling.

“ You… ” I take my handful of rainwater and slap it against his chest, wetting him. Of course, he doesn’t even flinch. But he does stop laughing.

At least he’s laughing. When I first met him, I didn’t think Tarak would ever be capable of laughter.

But apparently, Kordolians can laugh.

He takes my wet hand into his and twines his fingers through mine. The heat of his palm radiates into me. “I adore you, wife. Especially when you feel strongly about something. Forgive me. I couldn’t help but suggest that which I would do in an instant, knowing you would instantly reject it—with vehemence.”

His lips curve into an indulgent smile.

“You were teasing me,” I say flatly, trying to sound unimpressed even though I’m secretly delighted to see this playful side of him.

Silver-white eyebrows lift in mock surprise. “I thought you humans liked that sort of thing.”

“Well, yes, generally. But considering the ease with which you can do practically anything, including altering the fate of entire worlds, I have to be cautious around you.”

“You do not, ” he retorts, mildly indignant.

It’s my turn to smile—smugly. Got you.

“ Oh? ” The penny drops quickly with him, as always. His grip around my waist tightens. He pulls me closer, leaning in, pressing his lips against my temple. “You and I… we’re far beyond caution.”

Warmth spreads through me.

Lightning flashes again, softer this time, sheet-like in the distance. There’s a slightly longer pause before the thunder rumbles ominously.

Little One inside me must’ve woken from a slumber because I’m suddenly assaulted by a vigorous flutter of tiny legs and feet.

The rain becomes a torrential downpour.

The heavens have really opened up this time.

And the Master of the Skies is standing beside me, as close and familiar as ever, and he knows that when it comes to him, I have not even the slightest inkling of fear or mistrust.

Enough to be able to tease me.

Him.

A Kordolian.

Ha.

It’s as glorious as the rain itself.

The day was a scorcher. Baking hot and dry enough to turn tears to dust. Once the sun sets, it would normally cool down fast, sometimes to near-freezing temperatures.

But this evening was surprisingly humid, and the temperature of the rain is pleasant, not freezing cold.

I have a sudden urge to feel the rain against my face, to rub my feet in the desert sand—which has turned to mud—and to bury my toes and burrow down into the warm, dry earth underneath.

Anchoring myself to this world.

I look to Tarak. “Are we here now… for a while?”

“For as long as you wish,” he rumbles. “I did what was necessary so I could give this world to you.”

“I know,” I murmur, savoring his warmth and his steadfastness as the roar of the rain drowns out my voice. “And I know what it cost you to get us here.” Unable to help myself, I capture his lips in a brief, tender kiss.

The warmth intensifies a little. “Let’s go out there.”

“ There? ” One pale eyebrow curves questioningly.

“Yes.” I’m feeling a little spontaneous. Reckless. Because I’m by his side, and I’m perfectly safe, and nothing in the Universe can touch me.

Tarak inclines his head. “As you wish.”

He moves swiftly, silently, as powerful as the storm itself, sweeping me up into his arms as if I’m lighter than a feather. Effortlessly, he steps over the balcony railing and walks out into the rain, away from the house—just far enough to reach a patch of unspoiled vegetation.

There, he sets me down on the ancient red earth of home, the two of us drenched.

I taste pure rainwater on my tongue.

Little One is kicking again.

He puts his arms around my neck and presses his forehead against mine; silver stillness in the dark of night, in the relentless rain.

Taking all the time in the world.

And I laugh in pure joy and relief.