Alien Victory Read online

  Table of Contents

  ALIEN VICTORY

  Blurb

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Chapter Sixty-two

  Chapter Sixty-three

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Chapter Sixty-six

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-one

  Chapter Seventy-two

  Chapter Seventy-three

  Chapter Sevnty-four

  Chapter Seventy-five

  About the Author

  MLR PRESS AUTHORS

  ALIEN VICTORY

  MARK ZUBRO

  mlrpress

  www.mlrpress.com

  In the concluding volume of the Alien Danger series the perils and dangers of the universe converge on the lovers, Mike from Earth, and Joe from Hrrrm an unlikely pair to have fallen in love. Together they struggle to build a world safe for gay people and keep the dangers and prejudices of the world at bay. All leading to the final titanic battle between prejudice and all that is good and kind.

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 by Mark Zubro

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Published by

  MLR Press, LLC

  3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.

  Albion, NY 14411

  Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:

  www.mlrpress.com

  Cover Art by Deana Jamroz

  Editing by Neil Plakcy

  Print ISBN #978-1-60820-987-3

  ebook format

  Issued 2015

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “This ship is going to be attacked.”

  Mike Carlson and Girn huddled in the cargo hold of Prison Ship 437 headed to planet 6743-OA, an uninhabited world their jailers hoped would be worse than living in the most lurid vision of hell.

  They’d taken refuge in the darkest corner of the gloomiest aisle. Innumerable boxes in a wide variety of sizes surrounded them. It was one of the few areas in the vessel Mike knew had no surveillance system. Guards patrolled only once a night. Mike realized the lack of precautions taken was because their guards didn’t care if all the goods being transported were stolen or ruined. Mike figured the guards would prefer them all to just die. Mike was determined not to let that happen.

  It was early morning, although the amount of light on the grim, gray walls of the prison never varied, no matter what time it was.

  “Are you sure?” Mike asked.

  Girn had arrived with a delegation from the Senate, the ruling body in the star systems of Hrrrm. The Senate had decreed that all gay people were to be exiled to a prison planet. Billions were to be rounded up.

  Girn was a spy for this first group of exiles. His eyes peered into each shadow of darkness. Even though their communicators said they were the only two in this room, Girn spasmed like an amphetamine addict, seconds away from collapsing into a twitching heap on the floor.

  He said, “I shouldn’t be here. If they catch me, they’ll execute me on the spot. Even I didn’t know about this surprise inspection. We were lucky to find a way to meet.”

  “How else were you going to let me know about the decree?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think I could. Then this came up. I should go. It’s too dangerous.”

  Visits by official delegations or plain old harassment inspections happened at random intervals. Their prison ship was one of the slowest of interstellar vehicles. Almost any inter-planetary vessel, no matter the size, could catch up to it. It was a prison transport, not a battleship. It was in need of repairs, and given to cranky behavior that Mike compared to glitches in the simplest electronic devices on Earth. He’d thought these people, advanced as they were, would have been able to solve electronic anomalies. They hadn’t. Mike wasn’t sure whether or not he was comforted by the universal ability of technology to fuck with its owners.

  Each delegation that stopped at the ship was required to have representatives from all the major factions in the Senate. Mike figured they didn’t want anyone horning in on their possible profits.

  Or risk any other faction capturing him.

  Grin said, “Yes, I’m sure. You know how you were attacked on the way to Hrrrm?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Same thing here.”

  “I thought we had better protections on this trip.”

  “And the people who want to kill or kidnap you are more prepared as well.”

  “Kidnap or kill?”

  “If they can’t get you, this ship is to be blown to smithereens. You will be in space eternal, maybe protected for a few seconds by that aura you have, but then you will die, from lack of oxygen if nothing else.”

  Mike knew he was one of the most prized possessions in the galaxy. Or rather the chip implanted behind his left ear was. He and it were kind of a package deal. A frontal attack on Mike couldn’t work. This was due to a serendipitous fluke of a combination of his physiology along with a device created by Vov, the greatest mad scientist/weapons maker in Hrrrm’
s part of the galaxy. Vov had taken refuge on Earth, where Joe, Mike’s husband, had managed to defeat and kill him, but the technology the scientist created was now desired by all the factions of Hrrrm.

  At least Vov had created a technological device that had no glitches. The factions wanted the device, and they wanted the technology, and they wanted Mike, and if all else failed, they wanted him dead.

  Mike glanced around at the shadow-infested interior. Boxes and crates were stacked to the vast ceiling and stretched to the far distance. He checked his communicator, which again told him there was no one else in this room.

  Mike asked, “When’s the attack supposed to happen?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Who’s attacking?”

  “The Sky Pirates of Msssk.”

  Mike muttered, “Them again.”

  Girn was part of a spy network that Mike and Joe had developed. Mike knew there were factions on their side, but they hadn’t been enough to stop the Religionists, who wanted to exterminate all gay people but had settled on exile as a compromise.

  They’d been on their way on Prison Ship 437 for over a month. Joe had explained to Mike that they were going in the exact opposite direction from Earth, perhaps fifty thousand light years from home.

  In the dark nights when Joe was asleep next to him, and Mike lay worrying, mostly he wished, as Bilbo so often did in The Hobbit, that he was home, in Mike’s case in his warm, cozy apartment with the man he loved next to him.

  “Should we report it to Captain Zmond?” Mike asked.

  “If we tell anybody, they’ll know the information most likely came from someone in the delegation.” He drew a deep breath. His hands twitched. “Zmond is an incompetent blowhard especially chosen for this mission. He was the one most likely to screw it up. The guard ships around you will have to be enough.”

  “If we told someone else, could they send help?”

  “Who else?”

  The question stumped Mike. He had no answer. He also had no idea if being taken by the Sky Pirates would be better or worse than being shipped to this prison. He did know that the Sky Pirates had tried to capture and kill him before. He assumed the pirates would have fewer restraints on their treatment of him than the central government. At least on the ship, by law, there were ways they had to be treated.

  Girn interrupted his thoughts. “They’ve waited until you’re more than halfway there. So even if you know someone to contact, any help wouldn’t get here in time.”

  “Maybe several factions planned this?”

  “Possibly. Unfortunately, your only savior is likely to be Bex. He’s with this delegation that Girn arrived with.”

  Bex, the second richest man in the galaxy, was Mike’s evil nemesis. Bex was quite capable of sending someone out into space eternal on a whim. Mike had learned to fear even Bex’s whims.

  “Why is he here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he part of the attack?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  They both looked at their communicators, which were about half the size of an iPod. The language was that of Hrrrm, which Mike could both speak and read. Mike no longer found it difficult to hear the speech of Hrrrm translated in his mind into English idioms. He had spent hours learning the language with Joe before he left Earth, and on the months-long journey from Earth to Hrrrm.

  Mike had also gotten used to the mostly monosyllabic names. Actually they were nicknames, as the real names were strings of numbers and designations, and had little to do with warmth and babies and naming newborns. Joe’s whole official name was Police Detective Joe from the Seventh Directorate of Violence Control, sub-category twenty-six, unmated, reared in concept house 152-86, Implanted with series G through R anti-crime, series A to XX intelligence. That is, until they returned from Earth when his career as a cop was over and most of his implants were removed.

  Girn wrung his hands. “Don’t trust any of these people. Bex may be the direct face of your enemy, but this Dyn who showed up with Bex scares me more.”

  Girn’s communicator beeped.

  “Is that the attack?” Mike asked.

  Girn checked the readout and gave a sigh of relief. “They’re calling the delegates to breakfast.” He looked from his screen to Mike. “Don’t try to contact me anymore this trip. I’ll bring news or try to send someone. The last time I met with Bex, I saw suspicion in his eyes.”

  Mike nodded. He didn’t like to think about what would happen to his spies. Him, they couldn’t hurt. People working with and for him could suffer and die.

  Girn turned without another word and hurried away.

  Mike wanted to find Joe and tell him the news, but his own communicator gave a soft beep. It was a summons to meet with Bex.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mike entered the conference room. Bex sat at the head of the table with Dyn, whom Mike had met once before. Mike knew Dyn was a representative of the Senate, and that he was an assistant to Mulk, the richest person for light years around.

  Upon seeing Bex, Mike’s annoyance level soared as much as his anxiety level. He didn’t doubt that this would be another dance of death with his sworn enemy.

  For a villain, Mike thought Bex left a lot to be desired. Instead of being all Darth-Vaderish—dark, menacing, and metallic—Bex was a tubby little toad of a man with gray hair, a ruddy complexion, wrinkled neck, and small nose. Maybe Mike’s imagination was a little too stuck in Star Wars, but he thought if Jabba the Hutt had been human, he’d be Bex.

  Dyn, on the other hand, was dark-haired, middle-aged, and thin. He had the ascetic villain, Professor Snape look, down pat.

  When Bex was present, every meeting felt to Mike like he was facing a firing squad. Bex had long since known the futility of a direct frontal attack on Mike. However, if Bex was displeased with Mike in the slightest, Bex was quite willing to order any number of gay people killed, and would order it so in Mike’s presence. It was like being at a firing squad where the person next to you would be killed for your behavior.

  The décor on the rest of the ship was the flat gray similar to what Mike had become familiar with on the ship from Earth to Hrrrm. But this was an official room, and as such was one of the few decorated on the ship. One of the walls had scenes replicated from various parts of the mural in the Senate chamber on the planet Hrrrm. Mike recognized scenes with Kluth, considered to be the greatest High Judge of the Ruling Council.

  The paintings here also showed a battle scene, with fleets of ships blasting away at each other against a backdrop of soaring planets, moons, and stars. Mike’s only point of comparison was a Star Trek movie with phasers, lasers, or photon torpedoes firing into space. In this painting the firing beams of energy looked like lethal rainbows filling the interplanetary space with death.

  As Mike took the few steps to a bare and plain, cement-like chair, Bex glared at him from his throne-like seat. As soon as Mike sat, Bex slammed his fist onto the top of the table. His gaze focused on Dyn. “We’re getting beaten by a goddamn alien.” Bang went the fist again. “How the fuck is he doing that?” Both hands slammed. “I want him stopped.” His voice lowered to a dramatic menace. Each word was now being followed by its own separate smash. “I. Want. Him. Dead. I. Want. This. Fixed.” The banging stopped, and he began waving both fists in the air. “And if he can’t be dead,” he pointed at Dyn, “maybe you can be. Now get the hell out and fix this.”

  “I’m sitting right here.” Mike called from mere feet away. The table was made of perfillian wood. Mike had been told this was the most valuable building material in this sector of the galaxy.

  Mike was the alien in question, being as he was thousands of light years from his home planet, Earth.

  Bex ignored Mike and continued to shout, point, and bang. Dyn took the display with what Mike thought was remarkable aplomb. Mike wasn’t sure what Bex was upset about. From past experiences he knew he might or might not find out what the problem was at this meeting. Bex se
emed to like to hear himself rant. The only political system Mike could compare this one to would be if all of Earth was a complete oligarchy mixed with a shred of libertarianism whenever it suited the rich to deign to pay attention to that which was not their own needs. The one thousand wealthiest people had seats in the Senate. Mike and Joe had been on trial in front of them only a few months before. Mike had learned that over the millennia the accountants who kept track of who was richest had been raised to the level of sainthood.

  Mike wondered why Bex always began their meetings with hysteria. Did he think people were more likely to obey his dictates if he behaved irrationally? Or that they’d be hooked into believing his idiotic proclamations as he got louder and redder? Or that his over-the-top behavior would in any way convince those listening to his blather, delivered at a level of constant screech, to believe or obey what he said? Or that they’d countenance him for the slightest fraction of a second if he wasn’t one of the most powerful men in this part of the galaxy?

  Mike also wondered why Bex’s unimaginable wealth didn’t preclude him from making such wild displays. If Bex was a first grader on Earth, Mike would guess he had self-esteem issues.

  One of the first times Bex began to carry on, Mike had tried looking bored and disinterested.

  People had died.

  Mike didn’t want to risk people dying for his intemperance or his ill-manners whether real or imagined by Bex. Mike had no way to stop the man’s brutish insanity. He had learned to keep a half smile of fatuous attention on his face. Mike wished someday he could get revenge on this asshole.

  That wasn’t going to be today.

  Both of the other men continued to ignore Mike. Dyn, who had been ordered to move, didn’t. He neither carried on nor argued.

  Mike wasn’t exactly sure of the nature of the relationship between Bex and Dyn. Few things were explained to Mike, and even fewer of his questions were ever answered.

  Better them going after each other than going after him. Of course, their argument wouldn’t last long, or at least not long enough to have any real effect on Mike’s status as prisoner and Earth exile.

  Whatever his screeching might portend about Bex’s psychological state, it also gave the message to Mike that Bex was not all-powerful. Mike wished he could take more comfort in that thought than he did.