Page 1 of Alien Mine

Chapter One

Tersi, Twenty-Seven Standard Days Ago

Dyuvad ab Mhij sat up and popped his helmet off. His nerves tingled in the aftermath of a blaster shot delivered squarely to his armored chest. Thank Fryw he’d worn it on the raid instead of his street clothes. Otherwise, the blast would’ve knocked him out long enough for local law enforcement agents to discover his presence and arrest him for trespassing and vandalism, and probably kidnapping, too.

He slapped an armored hand onto the hardwood floor beneath him. He’d beenthis closeto securing the red-headed beauty he’d spied on in the days leading up to the raid. His old friend Ryn abid Alna had gotten to her first, then shot Dyuvad, forestalling an on-the-spot challenge for rights to steal the woman.

Ryn always had been a sneaky, underhanded winyu runner.

Normally, Dyuvad admired his friend’s creative solutions to sticky situations. Not today. His father had made it clear that if Dyuvad didn’t return with a suitable candidate for the Choosing, even Wode wouldn’t be able to deter his wrath.

Which is what Dyuvad got for enjoying life a little too well.

“A man your age should be settled by now,” he said, mimicking his father’s gruff voice, “not out carousing into the wee hours of the morning. Don’t disappoint your mother again. Bring home a wife.”

Dyuvad pushed himself upright into a wobbly stand. Hismother, the formidable Mhij Ak, would never express her disapproval outright. She didn’t have to. One glance from the former Q’Mhel’s cold eyes had always been enough to ensure her sons’ obedience, especially after their father shared one of her more daring adventures as the leader of an elite squadron of mercenary-soldiers.

Dyuvad snorted as he rebooted his armor’s internal systems. His mother loved him. He’d never doubted that. Had he been a disappointment to her? Maybe, but it wasn’t exactly fair to compare him to his older brothers. Styadun, the eldest of the three, was a serious, studious man and the heir to their father’s position as the kafh of Tyansk Province. Dyuvad’s next eldest brother, Benar, had opted to follow in his mother’s footsteps at the tender age of seven and had, for the next twenty-odd Galactic Standards, trained and lived as a mercenary-soldier on Q, their mother’s home world.

What could Dyuvad ever do to measure up to either one of his brothers’ accomplishments, let alone both?

His armor’s computer beeped from the helmet’s inset earpieces. Dyuvad retrieved his helmet from the floor and jammed it on his head. He ran a quick systems check, then pulled up the blinking Net connection in the lower right-hand corner of the digital display projected onto the interior of his helmet, overlapping his view of the red-headed woman’s home.

Immediately, the disembodied, androgenized head of a Net telepath flashed into view, startling Dyuvad. Personal contact with a ‘path was rare. They were an extremely insular bunch, very protective of their privacy, and only appeared in the most dire situations. For one to reach out now was bad, really bad. His gut tightened. Tyornin’s hammer. Had something happened to his family?

“You have been chosen for an urgent assignment,” the ‘path said, its voice flat. “Enter the Net for further details within one Standard hour or risk permanent disconnection from the Net.”

The dread zinging through Dyuvad faded into relief. Not his parents, then, but what?

He shrugged and activated the preset coordinates input into his armor, then exhaled and lit the jump. Reality distorted around him and his head whirled. An instant later, he popped into his ship’s passenger bay and staggered sideways. Kraden jumps. They always left him a little shaky, no matter how hard he worked to overcome the side effects.

He shook his head hard, clearing it, and jogged toward the bridge. One Standard hour wasn’t a lot of time, but it didn’t need to be. Accessing the Net didn’t take intelligence, just a good connection. Still, he yanked off his helmet and instructed his ship’s AI to access the Net. No need to take chances. The Net was too valuable for communications and as an information source to risk disconnection.

As soon as he hit the bridge, he said, “Bring up recent messages.”

The viewscreen shimmered to life and a handful of windows opened, each one holding a message he’d received while he’d been planetside. Dyuvad plopped into one of the two chairs stationed in front of the ship’s main controls and pulled up a message markedurgent.

The Net ‘path’s head appeared on the viewscreen. “Identify yourself.”

“Dyuvad ab Mhij, Fevl, Tyansk Province, Abyw, Fluma System.”

“Identification accepted.”

The ‘path icon faded and was replaced by the image of a small girl no more than two Standard years in age. The likeness diminished and zoomed to the left side of the viewscreen. Adjacent rows of information scrolled down the screen’s right-hand side.

“Travel beyond the frontier to Origin Space and find this child,” the ‘path said. “She must be protected.”

“Why?”

“Travel beyond the frontier,” the uninflected voice repeated.

Dyuvad glanced at the bridge’s ceiling. Why had he bothered asking? He would’ve had better luck getting answers out of aninert wall. “Fine, I’ll travel beyond the frontier. Where exactly am I going?”

The girl’s image shrank. A planet appeared below it, a blue world shrouded in wispy clouds. Water covered large sections of the surface, interrupted by massive continents clustered into two groups of major landmasses and numerous minor ones.

Dyuvad studied the data scrolling along the viewscreen and frowned. “There are billions of people living on that planet. It’ll take years to find one little girl, and that’s assuming I can make it there at all. The frontier’s not exactly a friendly place. Origin Space is a virtual wilderness. No sane man goes there expecting to make it out in one piece.”

The ‘path reappeared. “Travel beyond the frontier, Dyuvad ab Mhij. Protect the girl.”

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