Epilogue

Dean slammed his fist on the command counter hard enough to make the skin of his borrowed form ripple with silver. He leaned against it and closed his eyes, filling and emptying his human lungs of air in steady intervals to help restore his equilibrium.

His greatest advantage had been ripped from him by an Earthling.

“Secrecy is your best weapon,” his brother had always said. “If you want to be the best, the only person who should know you were there is the person that’s paying you. Your reputation will be built on their whispers.”

Everyone onboard the Reckoning would soon be talking about him. Trying to figure out how a Scorpiian had gained access to their precious ship.

What would happen if they knew he’d had access all along?

The High Council might be gone, but many of their systems were still in place—including the codes that let him attach his cloaked ship to the Reckoning’s hull without being detected, as well as the access ports Dean used to enter specific Coalition soldiers’ chambers while they were in their enhanced regen beds.

He had full access to those beds. He could keep the soldiers in them for as long as he needed while borrowing their forms. And thanks to the enhancements the High Council had been working on before their untimely demise, he could even modify the soldiers’ mental programming and memories, implanting false data to fill in any time gaps so they never knew he had taken their place to interact with the crew.

The High Council had made good use of Dean’s particular talents. Before they lost their upper hand.

Now, Dean had lost his advantage as well. Everyone aboard would be on high alert.

He might still be able to program the soldiers whose memories and personalities he could modify to be skeptical of his existence. Perhaps even to spread that skepticism among the crew.

They knew there was a Scorpiian among them, but had no idea just how extensive his access to their systems was—especially after receiving help from his unknowing accomplice, Queenie. He hadn’t had time to create a means to disable those damned black lights that would inevitably be put in place onboard the ship, but he should at least get a warning any time they were about to come on in a given section.

He had reached too far, and now he was paying for it. But the chance to drive a wedge between the Coalition and the Vegans had been too good to pass up. His new employers among the Tau Centauran Assembly would never take over the Sol system while the Vegans were here.

Not without help.

He placed his palm on the control panel, his tan skin turning silver and partially merging with the ship’s system. In the center of the room, a hologram appeared of a huge blue warrior with a large beard, a mane of sapphire hair, and glowing orange eyes. Kral, crown-prince of the Cygnians.

Dean stepped away from the panel, walking around the transparent image and trying to assess weaknesses in the supposedly invulnerable species. Physically invulnerable, anyway. But emotionally…

The Cygnians were coming to the Sol system. That meant there was something here that they wanted. Dean just had to figure out what that was.

And make sure they never obtained it.

—

Thank you so much for reading Trade Secrets! There are so many exciting adventures ahead, including the first spin-off series set in The Department of Homeworld Security universe! The Cygnian 7 series has blasted off and readers are raving about it. They’re big, they’re blue, and when it comes to the soulmates they’re finding on Earth, they’re completely clueless. I hope you’ll join us as they figure things out! Enjoy this glimpse into the first book of the series, Nuar: A Scifi Alien Warriors Romance.

Nuar: A Scifi Alien Warriors Romance

Cygnian 7

Book One

Chapter One

Earth was a confusing mess. Nuar couldn’t figure out why Kral had dragged all of the warriors in their prism to this backwards planet in the middle of nowhere.

Actually, it was worse than the middle of nowhere. It was well inside Coalition territory. The planet was crawling with Sadirians. The Earthlings themselves were almost identical to the oppressive aliens they had welcomed into their system.

As far as Nuar could tell, none of the Earthlings realized their mistake. They were carrying on their lives as they had since their industrial revolution, almost all of the population not even aware that aliens walked among them, let alone that their planet was one of the few that remained untouched by the galactic war.

Kral should be warning them that they were in a different kind of danger. The Coalition would strip this planet bare of resources and absorb the populace into their own. And that was if Earth was lucky.

With the Tau Centauran Assembly fighting against the Coalition, and winning, by all accounts, the Earthlings could meet with an even darker fate. Nuar felt a twinge of pity for them at the thought of the Tau Ceti colonizing the planet, setting up their wretched spawning pools, and absorbing the populace in their own way—as a food source.

Cygnus-Prime shouldn’t be getting anywhere near this mess. So why were Kral and his prism—Nuar included in that honored group—following a Sadirian female on a “tour” of this low-tech, socially stunted planet?

They were heading down a wide walkway that led from the hangar where their ship was located toward a small town called Harbor. The Sadirian’s short blonde hair bounced along her shoulders as she walked. She cast a bright smile at them that Nuar absolutely did not trust.

Earth had informally sided with the Coalition of Planets. It remained to be seen whether humans were as corrupt as Sadirians or just too foolish to realize the danger they represented.

Nuar’s experience with humans was limited to members of the Department of Homeworld Security. He still hadn’t made up his mind about Earthlings, but kept his eyes open as he followed along on the tour.

Perhaps it was a trap instead. That would be interesting.

As much as he believed his people should stay out of Earth’s business, he relished the idea of being able to test his strength and skills against a new opponent. The Earthlings were no threat and their weapons useless against a Cygnian, but they were rumored to have attracted a variety of other species to their planet.

His spirits somewhat lifted, Nuar looked around with renewed interest, seeking challenges or enemies. All he saw was grass, dirt, trees, and a cluster of buildings ahead.

A gentle breeze swept over him, countering the summer temperature—not that it was a problem for Nuar or any of the other Cygnians. Earth’s small yellow star cast pitifully low amounts of radiation through the atmosphere. It was no wonder all the life forms on the planet were so weak.

Earth was excessively comfortable.

The sky was unsettling, though. The same blue as Nuar, Dorn, and Rom’s skin. The other four members of the prism were a darker blue, with Lar a rich cobalt, like their queen.

“We’re so happy that you chose to come,” the Sadirian was saying. What was her name again? Right. Vay.

Nuar hoped he wouldn’t have to remember it for long. There couldn’t be much to see in such a small town. Earth had nothing to offer them.

“We’ve been getting everything ready for months,” Vay continued the steady stream of her conversation. “It’s an honor to have your entire prism visiting Earth. Is it true that Cygnians have seven possible eye colors?”

“It is,” Lar said.

Nuar felt his chest swell with pride as he thought of the full spectrum represented in his group—a rare complete prism—from Rom’s violet eyes to Nuar’s own spectral red. The Cygnian population had been dwindling for several generations. Finding fellow warriors whose unique soul-frequencies could harmonize with each others’ was becoming more rare.

Finding a soulmate was out of the question.

Vay glanced at the warriors with her, her brow furrowing. Nuar glared when their eyes met, and she quickly looked away.

“Tarn is with the ship,” Lar said. “He prefers his engineering bay to new planets.”

“I see.” Vay’s smile was a bit strained. Nuar felt a surge of sympathy for her. He quickly crushed it.

“I was surprised not to see him with the group, since Kral is your crown prince,” Vay said.

Bron let out a low growl. The vibration spread out from him, resonating in the plates that covered Nuar’s spine. Nuar forced them to stay folded against his back rather than risk tearing through the thin fabric of the Earth clothing Kral had asked them to wear.

“We travel with him because he’s our friend, not because he’s our prince,” Bron said. “He doesn’t need bodyguards.”

“I didn’t mean any offense.” Vay’s pale blue eyes grew round. “I guess I don’t understand the prism bond that well, but I’d love to learn more. I am the cultural liaison, after all. Not that I wouldn’t be interested otherwise. I mean, having such a close connection among your group of warriors sounds wonderful.”

She barely stopped to breathe as she spoke. Irritating. Primarily because the more she spoke, the harder it was for Nuar to not like her.

He wanted to get this over with. He needed to be…somewhere. Back at his ship, perhaps. Except, he wanted to keep going forward. Deeper into the town.

A strange feeling was nagging at the back of his mind and making him uneasy. It was probably just from knowing there were so many Sadirians and their allies lurking around. Still, it was unsettling.

“I hope you’ll accept my apology.” Vay clasped her hands in front of her chest as she stopped next to the first building at the edge of town.

Bron had been paying more attention to the environment than the Sadirian leading their group and had to stop abruptly to keep from running into her. Nuar, however, plowed into Bron’s back, knocking his fellow warrior forward a few paces.

Bron had to flail his arms and stagger to the side to keep from crushing Vay. It was one of the funniest things Nuar had seen in a while. The group laughed, some of their tense energy unraveling.

“Your turn, then.” Bron shoved Nuar, hard.

They both laughed as Nuar nearly lost his footing, flailing in much the same way to avoid the Sadirian in their midst. Dorn stepped in front of her, their security officer always focused on keeping others safe.

It was good to have a distraction. The familiar physical challenge was a much nicer focus than their strange surroundings or that nagging feeling of need in the back of Nuar’s mind.

“Are you up for an experiment, science officer?” Nuar said with a grin.

Bron arched an eyebrow and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s see how far I can throw you on this low gravity world,” Nuar said.

Bron bared his teeth in a broad smile, setting his feet apart and waiting for Nuar’s charge. Rom stepped between them, his hands raised to keep them apart.

“Stop playing around,” Rom said.

Nuar straightened. “We’re not playing. This is an experiment.”

“No, this is you being bored and trying to find something to do,” Rom said. “As usual.”

“I’m the medic for a group of near-invulnerable warriors,” Nuar said. “I’m always bored.”

Rom stepped right up in Nuar’s space, nose-to-nose as he issued his challenge. “Find a more constructive outlet.”

The Sadirian chose that moment to join the conversation. “I think I’m going about this wrong,” she said.

She dropped her hands to her sides, glancing back and forth between Rom and Nuar. She pressed her lips together in a determined line, then yelled, “Like I’d think Kral needed a guard!”

She reached out and braced her hands on the closest Cygnian’s chest, which happened to be Lar’s, and shoved him.

Rather, she tried to. Lar didn’t budge.

Nuar had to hand it to the Sadirian, though. She pushed hard enough that she knocked herself backward, landing right against Kral’s chest.

Kral caught her to help her keep her balance. He arched an eyebrow at the prism, his orange eyes gleaming with mirth. For a moment, he grinned at them above her head where she couldn’t see, then forced his expression to look dour and disapproving again.

“Bron accepts your apology,” Kral said, keeping his voice low.

Bron grunted.

Kral bared his teeth, his disapproval most likely becoming real. “Bron accepts your apology.” He bit out each word.

With another low growl, Bron inclined his head slightly. “Of course.”

“I… Thank you.” Vay pulled her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, then let out a sigh. “I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

“Comfort is not an issue.” Nuar snorted. “This entire planet is coated in soft things.”

He reached over to the building next to them and snapped off a corner of one of the blocks it appeared to be made of. Grinding his fingers against his palm, he watched as the material turned to a russet powder.

“Let’s maybe not crush the buildings’ bricks,” Vay said. “Most of these structures aren’t made of advanced durable materials.”

“We can see that,” Bron said.

“Harbor is an example of what’s possible if we all work together,” Vay said. “We did our best to preserve the existing Earth structures, improving them with designs proposed by humans and using Vegan technology.”

Nuar stifled a snort. He still didn’t believe there were actual Vegans on the planet, despite the rumors. He glanced over at Bron, who was also stifling a smirk.

Vay went on, oblivious. “And the Antareans were amazingly helpful in the construction.”

The plates running along Nuar’s spine started to rise. Judging by how the other warriors’ stances changed, most were dealing with the same reaction.

“You used the Antareans?” Lar’s tone was thick with disapproval.

“We didn’t use anyone,” Vay said, an intriguing challenge to her voice. “The Antareans offered and the Earthlings of this town gratefully accepted their help in exchange for supplies and resources that have helped the Antarean homeworld immensely.”

Vay gestured down the road to a tall building made of similar red blocks—bricks—but wrapped with large brown tunnels built onto the walls in winding spirals. Small plants grew from the tops and sides of the tunnels, and more greenery could be seen on top of the roof.

“You’re welcome to talk to them yourself,” she said. “Several have decided to settle here and make Harbor their home. They live in that apartment building along with humans, Sadirians, and Vegans.”

Nuar saw movement on the roof of the building. Two of the insectoid Antareans walked to the edge of the building, their antennae pointing toward Nuar’s group. One was holding a large pot with a plant in it. They both lifted some of their many arms and waved.

“Greetings, Vay,” one of them shouted.

“Hello Sisters,” Vay yelled, waving back. “Your rooftop garden is looking great!”

“Thank you,” the other Antarean replied. Their giant, segmented eyes strobed a happy pink. “We look forward to planting Lian’s latest seedlings once they are ready.” They waved again before heading back toward the center of the roof and out of sight.

Vay turned to the prism and said, “Please don’t mistake the Coalition for the High Council. The High Council is gone and…” she lifted her chin, “good riddance to them.”

With every word, Nuar liked her more, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His desire to leave the planet also grew. They should not be getting involved in any of this.

“The Coalition does not take advantage of sentients,” Vay said. “We take care of each other. We work—and live—together. That’s Harbor. And if you don’t like it…” She seemed to struggle to find the right word. When she did, she stiffened her spine and crossed her arms over her chest. “Tough cookies.”

Lar looked at Kral and mouthed, “Tough cookies?”

Kral laughed. Nuar felt his spine plates relax. He still didn’t trust the Coalition, but this Sadirian… This Sadirian, he liked.

The High Council might be gone, but their influence most likely remained among their people. They couldn’t have changed that much in such a short amount of time.

“The town is a fine accomplishment,” Kral said. “It’s good to see these sentients working together.”

“We’re very proud of what we’ve done here,” Vay said.

“As you should be.” Kral laughed again, then pulled Vay against his side with an arm draped over her shoulders. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest.

“One thing, though,” Kral said. “What are cookies?”

Vay beamed at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Cygnus X, they are the best thing in the universe.” She clamped a hand over her mouth for a moment, then said, “Pardon my language.”

Kral just smiled.

“Are they a weapon?” Bron asked.

She pinched her lips between her teeth, then burst out with a laugh. “No, they’re a food. A delicious food. We can pick some up at the bakery. It’s just down the street.”

They started along the paved path again, passing buildings with clear viewports that made up most of their front walls. Nuar glanced around as Vay described the operations within them, not really listening.

His gaze lit on a large, white, multi-armed form across the street. Was that a Lyrian?

“I’ll catch up in a moment,” Nuar said.

Bron shrugged, then followed Vay and the other warriors into one of the buildings.

Excitement teased the edges of Nuar’s nerves. His hearts pounded a dual beat in either side of his chest.

Finally, something of interest.

Lyrians rarely left their planet. Nuar had never seen one, though he’d studied everything he could about them.

Lyrians could camouflage themselves so well, they would be undetectable through any physical or technological means. Not even Cygnian holographic technology could rival a Lyrian’s natural defense.

Their strength and resilience was legendary. This one was seven feet tall—as tall as Nuar—but three times as thick in the chest.

Few Cygnians had ever had a chance to try their might against a Lyrian.

Nuar crossed the street quickly, coming up behind the Lyrian as he turned around a corner. Nuar hurried to catch up with him.

The moment Nuar rounded the corner, four strong hands gripped him and lifted him off his feet. He found himself staring into eyes as dark blue as Tarn’s, set in a pale blue face surrounded by bristling white fur.

The Lyrian pulled his lips back from his many small, serrated teeth in a smile. “Hello, Cygnian,” he said. “Would you care to explain why you’re trying to sneak up on me?

Nuar laughed. “Cygnians don’t sneak. I was approaching you to introduce myself. I am Nuar.”

The Lyrian pursed his lips and snorted out a breath through the nostrils in his flat face. His winglike ears twitched as he set Nuar down and released him.

“I’m Craig,” the Lyrian said.

“Well met, Craig.” Nuar extended his hand.

Craig’s brow ridge arched on one side. He gripped Nuar’s hand in the Earth-style greeting Nuar had been trained to use, but then clasped Nuar’s elbow with one of his other hands.

“Are you supposed to be here, Nuar?” Craig asked. “Vay’s been talking for weeks about the tour she has planned for you all.”

Nuar waved his free hand dismissively. “My prism can sense where I am. And I doubt the Sadirian will even notice my departure.”

“Hmm.” Craig tightened his grips. “Interesting that you call her ‘the Sadirian,’ when you know she has a name.”

“I also know she’s with the Coalition.” Nuar tightened his grip as well. Tighter than the grip he’d used to pulverize the brick. The Lyrian was unfazed.

Craig smirked. “Did you also know that Vay is my daughter?”

Nuar felt his jaw drop. The Coalition was infamous for their genetic experiments, but creating a Sadirian linked with Lyrian DNA? How had the Coalition even obtained it?

Nuar had thought that the Lyrians were one of the few sentient species fortunate enough to have eluded the High Council’s lust for more genetic material to experiment upon. Then again, until recently, Nuar had thought the Cygnians had managed to escape that fate as well. He was wrong.

His spines began to rise again at the thought of what the High Council had done to one of their own. Craig’s grip tightened further, perhaps noticing Nuar’s distress.

Nuar stammered a few half-formed words, his mind refusing to provide anything helpful besides, “How?”

“This planet has a very strange effect on unmated sentients,” Craig said. His voice became a bit wistful as he went on. “My mate and I adopted an orphaned human we found wandering the woods alone and unprotected. When he met Vay, they pair-bonded. They are now married, both according to Sadirian and Earth customs.”

“I see,” Nuar said. That made a lot more sense than the scenarios he’d been considering.

Craig pulled Nuar closer, so that their faces were inches apart. “I’m not sure you do. Vay has been very excited about today. She’s worked tirelessly to prepare for your arrival, barely having time to spend with our family and our new nestling. And yet, you’re here, and she’s there. Which I’m concerned might disappoint her.”

Nuar smiled, his hearts pounding at the thought of a true challenge. “If you’d like, you’re welcome to try to get me from here to there.”

Craig’s lips pulled into a toothy smile again. “I would love to.”

—

Get your copy of Nuar: A Scifi Alien Warriors Romance today! Be sure you catch up on all of The Department of Homeworld Security adventures as well. You can get many of the novellas in the first two series omnibuses, The Department of Homeworld Security Omnibus 1 and The Department of Homeworld Security Omnibus 2.

I’d love to keep in touch. Join my newsletter to hear about all the adventures happening in Cassland and be sure to check out my reader group. And if you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite book review site. I’d really appreciate it—reviews help readers and authors alike!

Thank you for reading Trade Secrets!

Cassandra Chandler