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

6. Abbey

SIX

ABBEY

The car that takes us to Capricornia College is cool, silent, and impossibly smooth. On the outside, it looks like any of the driverless cars that glide around the streets—white and sleek, its windows tinted against the harsh tropical sun.

In reality, it’s no ordinary vehicle. It’s actually an entirely Kordolian contraption, armed and armored and practically impenetrable. It can fly. It also has a driver—unusual in this day and age on Earth but very normal for Tarak, who doesn’t quite trust artificial intelligence of any sort.

Tarak doesn’t take any chances. Wherever we go, he insists on using his own tech for transport. He’s paranoid about the possibility of human-networked vehicles being remotely controlled or used to spy on us.

Well, maybe not paranoid, considering who he is.

Just realistic.

As we glide to a stop at the front entrance, I squeeze Tarak’s muscular thigh, capturing his attention. “This isn’t a negotiation, and we haven’t come here to demand anything. It’s just a conversation. ”

“There are things about you I still don’t understand,” he says mildly, raising a pale eyebrow. “You know you can have anything you want. Why do you insist on making it complicated?”

“Human nature.” I smile, knowing perfectly well that Tarak doesn’t quite understand why I’m so adamant about navigating situations involving humans diplomatically. To him, my approach is incomprehensible. He’s used to taking what he wants and bringing others to heel in the process. “Whoever educates our kids needs to be passionate and willing—not under duress. You’ll understand in a few years.”

“Hm.” Tarak captures my hand and twines his fingers through mine—a little forcefully. “Perhaps.”

He’s just going along with all of this because he wants to make me happy, not because he understands my reasons behind it. He trusts me to make the right decisions for our child, and he accepts that there needs to be a balance between our very different cultures.

Of course, he’s got the Kordolian side of things all stitched up, every resource imaginable at his disposal. Most of what remains of the old empire is under his command. He’s installed an interim government on Kythia and owns an entire fleet of Kordolian military ships manned by troops that are loyal only to him.

Every single Kordolian specialist, instructor, and expert is at our disposal.

We won’t have any trouble teaching our kids the Kordolian ways, and I trust Tarak to make sure they learn the right things from his world.

The car enters a long driveway leading to a small car park. There’s a drop-off zone at the end, shaded by a roofed structure. Tall, slender palms wave in the gentle breeze, deceptively relaxed in the oppressive heat.

Of course, inside the car, it’s cool, but outside, it’s a furnace.

I squeeze Tarak’s hand, appreciating the brief torture he’s about to go through when he steps outside.

It’s just the two of us today. Ami’s back at the secure compound—yet another of the properties Tarak seems to collect like trinkets—being babysat by Riana and guarded by Kail.

Surprisingly, they wanted to tag along.

Riana, I could understand, but Kail?

He’s one of the biggest, hardest, scariest warriors of the First Division, a man of few words who only reveals his true self to two people in the Universe—his mate and his commander, in that particular order.

And he only gives the best parts of himself to her.

I never thought he would agree to a holiday, but here we are.

Kail and Riana seem to have taken a particular interest in my little project here.

Hmm, I wonder why?

The doors slide open, and Tarak steps out before me, offering me his hand.

What a perfect Kordolian gentleman. He’s dressed seriously for the occasion, wearing a simple deep blue kashkan over black trousers and boots. There isn’t a single crease. His hair is trimmed and faded to military precision. The dark glasses give him a rakish air.

My heart skips a beat.

He’s as stunning as ever.

In contrast, I’m big, ungainly, and slightly sweaty. My loose hair is slightly tousled, and I thank the stars for the silky floral dress that makes me look somewhat pulled together.

Tarak smiles slightly, furrowing his brow, making me blush.

What?

He’s always looking at me like that—as if I’m the most ravishing creature in the Universe, which is the polar opposite of how I feel right now.

Little One is kicking again, fluttering along with the frantic patter of my heartbeat.

Tarak pulls me up, almost lifting me off my feet, momentarily making me feel as light as a feather.

He wraps his fingers around mine and leads me to the front office. The blast of the midday heat is intense—like being in a furnace—but we quickly walk through sleek sliding doors into a cool office that looks out onto a central courtyard filled with lush tropical vegetation.

The interior is sleek and minimalistic, with polished concrete floors and beige and white furnishings. A receptionist sits behind the counter. She’s on a holo-call with someone, the other person concealed by a privacy screen.

“Of course,” she says calmly to the person on the other end, giving us a brief glance. Her eyes widen in surprise as she notices Tarak. “Principal Bonsen is currently in a tele-meeting, but I’ll let her know that you called. She’ll reach out to you when she’s available. You have a good day now.”

Wearing a miffed expression, she terminates the call and turns to us. “Can I help you?”

“We have an appointment with Principal Bonsen at 12,” I reply, hoping my sunny simple will offset the shock of Tarak’s presence.

He’s right—there’s no point in hiding. Not when he and his people have made Earth into their second home. Not when they’re responsible for protecting the entire human species.

There’s no way he would’ve let me come alone anyway. He’s naturally protective, but even more so now that I’m carrying our child.

When we’re on Earth, and he’s not around, one of the First Division guys will always be within earshot.

“I’ll let her know you’re here.” The receptionist’s shock is quickly hidden behind a bright but not entirely happy smile. “Please take a seat.”

Tarak says nothing, allowing me to take the lead. He just looms behind me, radiating an intimidating aura. He can’t help it. It’s just who he is.

Thankfully, there’s nobody else around. I look out the windows, my gaze drawn to a tranquil pond. A turtle drifts to the surface, looks around, then disappears back into the murky depths.

Beyond the lush vegetation is the rest of the school, which is made up of low-set pavilions connected by breezy shaded walkways. It’s very different from the high school I attended growing up, where most classes were held virtually, interspersed with the occasional field trip or practical session.

At the sound of footsteps, I turn.

The principal stands before us.

She wears a simple, breezy emerald green linen shift, accessorized with bold red resin earrings and a blue floral silk scarf. Soft salt-and-pepper curls are cropped into a neat bob.

She’s probably in her late forties, but it’s hard to tell. Somehow, she manages to give off an aura that’s simultaneously welcoming, down-to-earth, and formidably competent.

If she’s surprised by Tarak’s presence, she certainly doesn’t show it.

“I’m Delia. Come on in.” She turns, gesturing toward a glass-walled office.

We rise and follow her inside, Tarak stalking quietly behind me.

“Please, take a seat.” Delia gestures toward a pair of minimalistic swivel chairs.

Tarak waits until I’m comfortably seated, then takes the other chair. Leaning back, I breathe a small sigh of relief as the pressure is lifted from my aching feet.

“Welcome, Abbey. Thank you for booking an appointment to meet with me. I have to admit, I must admit, I didn’t expect there to be two of you, but that isn’t a problem.” She turns to Tarak, staring at him with great intensity. “I know who you are,” she says quietly.

“Then you’ll know that our requirements will not be ordinary,” Tarak replies, cutting to the chase in typical Tarak fashion.

“To save you both the trouble, I’ll say this now: no matter what you offer me, I’m not leaving this school. I’m sorry.”

“Then our business here is concluded,” Tarak says coolly, rising to his feet.

“Hold on a moment.” I shoot Tarak an annoyed glare before turning to the principal. “I never said anything about you leaving your current position. Actually, I haven’t even had a chance to say anything. ”

The principal nods. “I’m all ears.”

Tarak frowns, refusing to sit down again. Slowly, he walks to the back of the room and leans against the wall, sending a clear signal that he’s leaving the conversation to me.

“I’ve done my research. I know your experience. I know your outcomes… and I know how important this school is to you. I know that you work with the most challenging students. Those who don’t fit into the traditional system, those who have failed time and time again, kids who are this close to having their MQ score drop below the threshold. I also know that you were one of the first educators to take a serious interest in Kordolian language and culture.”

“It is the future,” Delia says dryly, “whether we like it or not.”

“It’s a better future than the one that was laid out before,” I retort. “That’s why I wanted to speak with you.” I rest my hand on my belly, feeling the reassuring movements of the life growing inside me. “We have a unique situation. An entire generation of Kordolian-humans that’s going to be tasked with great responsibility.” And power. I leave the obvious unsaid because it makes most people uncomfortable. “I need them to learn our history and our ways—and remain grounded.”

“That’s a significant responsibility. I’m not in a position to offer my professional services as a teacher.”

“I’m not asking for all of your time. I just need to pick your brains. I want to start a school. Human-led, human-conceived. I need your expertise. Your connections. Your help with hand-picking the staff. A consultancy role, if you like. Whatever it costs, we can make it happen.”

“I see.” Delia twines her fingers together, a shrewd look in her dark eyes. “And what if my price isn’t monetary?”

“Name it.”

“Okay. Two things.”

“I’m listening.” With Tarak’s silent, indomitable presence behind me, I’m filled with confidence. I feel unshakeable. I can give this woman what she asks for or walk away unscathed. If I can’t get her to agree to what I want, then I’m sure we’ll find an alternative.

“Firstly, there are a number of students at this school that don’t engage well with authority figures and have little respect for rules or boundaries. I believe they might react differently to someone from outside the system.”

“ Someone ? You mean, one of my people.”

Delia’s eyebrows rise slightly as I firmly declare my allegiance. It’s true, my loyalties have shifted. I don’t consider myself a Federation Citizen anymore. I’m part of a tribe now—Tarak’s and mine.

They’re my people.

“Someone as hard-as-nails, who can provide a different perspective. Who will treat them fairly, without bias. I would like to see if our groups can collaborate on a cultural exposure project.”

“You really think that’ll work?”

“I know these kids. We’re working on addressing the underlying issues, but they also need to see that there’s more to the Universe than the place they grew up in. Some of them would never even dare to dream that they might be able to travel into space.”

“You would trust us… to do the right thing? After all that’s been said about Kordolians?”

“The fact that you’re coming to me to ask me to teach your kids tells me all I need to know.”

Delia’s smart. She’s connected the dots so quickly. But with her background and accomplishments, what else did I expect? “Seems like you’re pretty good at reading people.”

She laughs. “What do you think I do for a living?”

“My husband’s men aren’t used to dealing with humans, let alone students with behavioral issues.”

“I wouldn’t dream of putting anyone in a position they weren’t trained for. But maybe… a short visit so the kids can interact and ask questions. Then perhaps an excursion here and there. To see things they wouldn’t usually see, visit places they wouldn’t normally ever have a chance to go.”

“To space? Would the parents allow it?”

“Some of these parents are at their wits’ end. Some aren’t even in the picture. Believe me, I’d make it happen.”

I glance at Tarak. “Get your guys to straighten out a bunch of misguided human kids?

He nods, and although his expression is mostly as hard as stone, there’s an ever so slightly mischievous quirk to one corner of his mouth. “We can be as uncompromising or benevolent as you need.”

For a fraction of a second, Delia’s calm mask slips, and she stares at Tarak in fascination.

He does tend to have that effect on people.

“Well, now that you have the blessing of a former general of the Kordolian Imperial Military, I’m sure we can work something out,” I say mildly.

“Uh, yes.” The principal seems surprised. Perhaps she wasn’t expecting us to agree so easily. “That would be wonderful.”

“You mentioned a second condition.” Now that I can almost taste victory, I press on, eager to close the deal. If it’s anything like the first one, it’ll be easy to handle.

Delia recovers her composure. “I presume you hold a fair amount of influence over the Federation Government. There’s something I’ve always wanted to change… at a policy level.”

I nod encouragingly. Tarak’s just handed us the keys to power. She has no idea . “You’re right. We can directly advocate for a change of policy if we think it aligns with our interests.”

“Well, you’ll have to be the judge of that. It’s going to determine whether we can work together, after all.”

“So, what do you require?”

Delia takes a deep breath. “This idiotic concept of a Morality Quotient. I want it abolished. Something as subjective, fluid, and poorly definable as morality should not determine whether a child has a right to an education or not. Surely, there are better ways to ensure future generations are brought up right.”

I smile. It’s something I was planning on changing anyway, but I’ll let Delia have her credit. “What a sensible idea. That, we can do. There are complexities that will take time to navigate, but as far as children and teenagers are concerned, I completely agree. They shouldn’t be subject to this archaic rule at all.”

The principal lets out a deep sigh of relief. “You know, when I saw the two of you sitting out there, I didn’t quite know what to expect. But I think this might be a good collaboration. I’m pleasantly surprised—and excited.”

“Same here.” I reach out and shake Delia’s hand, relieved that my gut instinct seems to have turned out to be correct. She’s the sort of person I could catch up with over a cup of coffee.

She reminds me a little of Aunt Kenna, in a way.

“We’re starting a school,” I say breathlessly as I turn to Tarak, the little one inside me moving like crazy, almost kicking my lungs out of my chest. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Indeed.” He unpeels himself from the wall and walks toward me, gracefully inhuman.

I’ll never grow tired of marveling at him.

“Thank you for your time today, Principal Bonsen. I’m looking forward to a rewarding relationship with you and your students. We’ll be in touch.”

“Likewise. It was a pleasure meeting you today, Abbey, and er…”

“ Tarak. ” Surprisingly, my husband offers her his first name.

We both get up from our seats. Tarak’s at my side again: silent, restrained, intimidatingly protective.

“I’ll show you out. Please, follow me.” Delia leads the way, her movements brisk and purposeful.

And just like that, I’ve started something that to me, makes perfect sense.

Delia’s right about one thing.

Morality Quotient, my ass.

After all, isn’t Tarak magnificent living proof that we shouldn’t allow our past to define us?