Pursuit of Valor (The Tarvaax War Book 1) Read online

  Ronan rolled down the window and yelled after him, "Just remember that next time you ask me for money."

  Aiden disappeared into the sea of teenagers flooding into the school.

  Ronan shook his head and drove away. He had an appointment with a realtor across town. He wanted something with a little bit more room. Maybe a nicer place would entice his son to spend a little more time with him. He wanted to work on their contentious relationship.

  Sol Vorta was the largest city on Zeplovia. The Wastoria building was located on the posh West Side, not far from the financial district. An apartment over here was definitely going to be a stretch for Ronan. But it was close to work and there were a vast array of restaurants and nightlife. It was the happening part of town.

  Ronan pulled up to the Wastoria building. "Just drive around the block until I call for you," he said to the vehicle.

  A soothing automated female voice responded, "Yes, Mr. Nash. Do you have an estimate of how long you will be?"

  "20 minutes."

  It was cheaper to let the car drive around for a while then it was to pay for parking.

  "Excellent. I will adjust my route accordingly."

  Ronan stepped out of the vehicle and strolled into the lobby. The glass door slid open. The building was lavishly appointed with marble floors and columns.

  A beautiful young blonde in a navy skirt and blazer waited in the lobby, talking on her mobile. She caught sight of Ronan and quickly ended the call. A brilliant smile flashed across her face and she extended her hand as she strutted toward him. "Jessica Mills. You must be Ronan Nash?”

  He smiled and shook her hand. "Yes. Sorry I'm late. Midtown traffic is a nightmare."

  "No problem. I closed a deal while I waited."

  "Sounds like business is good?"

  "Business is very good." Her crystal blue eyes glimmered. This was an attractive woman.

  They strolled to the bank of elevators. Ronan couldn't help but notice her toned legs, accentuated by her stiletto heels. They clacked across the marble floor, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Jessica pressed the call button, and the lift arrived within a matter of seconds.

  "This building has speed elevators, which drastically cuts down the wait time in the mornings."

  The door slid open and they stepped inside. She hit the button for the 29th floor. The door slid shut and the elevator ascended—slowly at first, to minimize discomfort, then it moved at an incredible pace. As it neared the 29th floor, Ronan felt like he was going to lift off the ground as the elevator slowed to a stop. It gave him a little bit of a head rush.

  Jessica winked at him. She could tell exactly what he was thinking. "Told you it was fast."

  The elevator doors slid open and she led the way. "This building is practically brand-new. There's a fitness area, indoor pool, outdoor pool, and holodeck. There's also a theater, and they have movie night once a week. Plus there's a social in the bar once a week for young professionals such as yourself."

  "I don't know if I fall into the category of young professional."

  "You don't look a day over 25," she said flirtatiously.

  It was difficult to tell someone's true age. Medical advancements had come a long way, and age delaying treatments could extend lifespan to several hundred years. Ronan was 38. He figured she was just saying whatever she had to in order to get a sale.

  "What is it that you do, Mr. Nash?"

  "Security consultant. Just got out of the military last year. Former Marine.”

  "Sounds exciting."

  Ronan shrugged. "It has its moments. For the most part, nobody shoots at me anymore. And that's the way I like it." He smiled.

  Jessica opened the door to the apartment and showed him in. It was a stunning residence with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. An ocean of skyscrapers towered into the sky. They were sleek and modern and glimmered in the morning sun. The kitchen was filled with sleek appliances. The shiny hardwood floors looked immaculate.

  "1800 square feet, two bedroom, 2 1/2 bath, and a 600 square-foot terrace. Perfect for entertaining guests."

  "I don't entertain that many guests."

  Jessica's gorgeous eyes fixed on him. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Nash."

  There she was flirting again.

  The place was to die for, no doubt about it. It was more than Ronan could afford. But he was already juggling the numbers in his head. Ronan followed Jessica as she stepped onto the terrace. She took in a deep breath and surveyed the city. "Isn't this just amazing?" She was positively radiating.

  "It is an impressive view," Ronan said, his eyes lingering on her luscious form. He was partly describing the city, partly describing her. He figured if she could flirt, so could he.

  A subtle grin curled up on her plush lips, and she blushed. She unconsciously brushed her fingers through her hair. It was a subtle signal she was interested.

  Ronan wasn't sure if this was all part of her rehearsed game plan to sell more luxury apartments. Either way, it was nice to get a little bit of attention from the opposite sex.

  "I told you the view was spectacular.” Jessica gazed at the skyline. She paused for a long moment of silence. Then, almost as if on cue, she said, "So, what do you think?"

  Ronan inhaled deeply.

  Jessica's blue eyes sparkled at him. She oozed sensuality, and her eyes urged him on. This woman was magnetic. It was as if she was staring into his soul. How could anyone say no to her?

  Ronan stammered, "Uh, I like it."

  "They're asking 7.5. But, between you and me, I think we can get them down to 7.2. I’ve got three other parties interested, but they haven't put money down yet. No contracts have been signed. It's going to go to the first person who moves on it. And I guarantee you, you definitely want to make your move sooner rather than later." Her eyes smoldered at him again. The double entendre made Ronan's pulse quicken.

  Jessica leaned against the railing and eyed him like a hawk. Her supple curves were irresistible. But 7.2 million credits was a lot of money.

  "Take some time. Think about it. I don't want to rush you into anything. If this one gets snatched up, I’ve got plenty more properties I think you'd like."

  Ronan stared at her for a moment, trying to balance out his impulsive urges against his logical mind. But he wasn't balancing very well. "I'll take it."

  Jessica's eyes lit up with glee. "I think you’ve made a wise choice. In two years, you'll be able to sell this place for twice what you paid for it. This area is hot right now."

  "I'm sure you say that to all your clients." Ronan was fishing a little bit.

  "Now, Mr. Nash, I wouldn't lie to my clients," she said, coyly. "I'll grab the champagne." She dashed into the living room and headed for the kitchen.

  "You have champagne?"

  "I always keep a bottle in the fridge of every property I represent," she called back to him. She returned a moment later with two flutes filled with sparkling blue liquid.

  "I bet you drink a lot of champagne," Ronan said, taking the glass.

  "I'm good at what I do."

  Ronan surveyed the bubbling liquid. “Antarian?”

  Jessica smiled. "Only the finest."

  They clinked glasses and sipped the rare champagne. Ronan's eyes gazed at the striking vista. As soon as he signed the paperwork this would become his balcony, and his view.

  His eyes caught sight of several aerial vehicles on the horizon. They were flying in formation. He didn't think much of it. They were little more than specs in the distance.

  Jessica took another sip, leaving a lipstick stain against the glass. She swirled the expensive beverage around in her mouth and swallowed it down. Her eyes surveyed Ronan, almost like a predator stalking its prey. "I'm sure your girlfriend is going to love this place." Now she was the one who was fishing.

  Ronan chuckled. "Oh, no. There is no girlfriend."

  "Really?" Jessica perked up.

  "Really."

  "I find that
hard to believe."

  "You don't know me that well."

  "You don't seem so bad," she grinned.

  Ronan smirked. "I already agreed to buy the place. You don't have to keep selling."

  "I never drink on-the-job." She took another sip. "Business is over. This is personal. But, if you don't see anything you're interested in, I understand."

  "Did you get the impression that I wasn't interested?"

  She smiled. "No. I didn't get that impression."

  Now that it was all out on the table, there was an awkward moment of silence between them.

  Jessica looked at her watch. "I've got to get to another appointment, but you have my number. Perhaps you can invite me over for dinner when you get the place all fixed up. I'd love to see what you do with it."

  The roar of the approaching aircrafts grew louder. They were close enough now to make out their shape. Ronan was familiar with every aircraft in the UPDF Navy. He didn't recognize any of these.

  There were dozens more on the horizon. As he glanced around, he noticed they were everywhere. The sky was peppered with these vehicles. They were like a swarm of hornets. Suddenly, the sky came alive with weapons fire. Plasma bolts streaked through the air, blasting at the buildings below.

  Ronan's eyes locked on one of the fighters as it approached the balcony. The alien craft screamed toward him, unleashing a flurry of weapons fire. Several of the glowing bolts slammed into the balcony, reducing it to rubble. Bits of concrete and debris scattered, tumbling to the ground below.

  The enemy vehicle raced overhead, leaving a wake of destruction in its path. The blast had disintegrated the balcony beneath Ronan's feet, and he was left clinging onto a fragment for dear life. One hand clasped the jagged edge, while the other gripped Jessica's hand as she dangled over the sidewalk below.

  Ronan looked down at her, then he glanced to the street. He could see the debris from the balcony slam into the sidewalk, smashing a parked car on the street. The roof crumpled and glass shattered. Car alarms were blaring. There was destruction all over the city.

  It was amazing how fast fortunes could change. One minute, he was on top of the world. Now he was hanging on for dear life. Ronan was a strong guy. Years of special operations training had given him calm nerves under pressure. But he wasn't going to be able to hang on forever. His fingertips were slowly sliding over the edge, and Jessica's palm was growing slick with nervous sweat. He knew if he let go of her he could probably save his own life. He could swing the other hand up, grab the ledge, and pull himself to safety. But that wasn't his style. He had never left anyone behind during his time as a Special Forces Marine. He wasn't going to start now.

  4

  It was death itself. The massive alien dropship descended from the sky and landed in the middle of the street. Heat distorted beneath the thrusters as the hulking behemoth touched down. The landing gear compressed under its immense weight. Hydraulics whirred as the front ramp lowered. Dozens of mechanized vehicles marched out of the cargo bay—bipedal, armor plated vehicles with plasma cannons and rocket launchers. They stood two stories tall, and were thick tank-like ministers of pain. A dozen of them stormed from the dropship, weapons blazing.

  They incinerated everything in their path. Nothing was spared. Men, women, children—it didn't matter. They mowed down civilians as they scurried in panic. Charred carcasses smoldered on the street and sidewalks. Motor vehicles were obliterated. The city was caught off guard. Law-enforcement was the only defensive entity on site—and most of them turned and ran. The ones that did stay and fight ended up barbecued. By the time the terrestrial army was mobilized, it was too late.

  At first, some civilians thought it was a robotic invasion, but the mechanized units were piloted by the Tarvaax—a ruthless alien race of warriors.

  Xorgon the Great was the son of Emperor Vuul. He was determined to establish himself as the rightful successor to the throne. He and his brother Aarnok were fiercely competing to prove their worth. Just because Xorgon was the eldest didn't automatically ensure him the throne. Among the Tarvaax, leadership was earned. Xorgon fought on the front lines with his men. To say he enjoyed it, was an understatement. He had his own personal camera crew capturing the destruction, showcasing Xorgon in all his glory. Cameras were mounted on his body armor and his mech unit. Camera crews scurried around him, trying to stay out of harms way. Sometimes they managed to survive, sometimes they didn't.

  Xorgon's mechanized unit marched their way to the capital of Zeplovia, leaving a trail of carnage. A rifle platoon followed behind them. Xorgon marched up the steps and stood between the towering Doric columns. The mechs were too big to navigate the smaller corridors, so Xorgon ordered the rifle platoon to breach and clear the building. They moved with tactical precision, sweeping from room to room. They quickly secured the area and rounded up several hostages. They corralled them in the main lobby.

  Xorgon pressed a button, shall and the cockpit slid open. He climbed out of his mechanized vehicle and jumped down to the ground. His heavy boots thumped against the concrete. He stood tall in full battle armor. At 8 feet he was an imposing figure. He had slick skin that was drawn tight around his frame. His muscles bulged and rippled. He had greenish-blue skin and angular features. Razor like fangs stabbed from his square jaw. His demonic eyes had a golden shine to them. He was humanoid in form. His hands were like boulders when balled into a fist, and he had sharp talons that could claw through an enemies flesh like razors. This was not someone you wanted to get into a fight with.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Xorgon caught sight of his camera crew. He stomped over to them. "Did you get a good shot of me coming up the steps?"

  "Yes, my Lord," the cameraman stammered.

  "What about when I dismounted from my vehicle?"

  "We've got an excellent shot, sir. You look very regal."

  Xorgon's eyes narrowed at him. He was skeptical. "I want a low angle shot. I want you to focus on my boots as they hit the ground, then I want you to pan up to accentuate my stature."

  "I can assure you, my Lord, what we have looks great."

  "I want the shot!” He said the words in a slow, deliberate rumble.

  "Yes, my lord,” the cameraman said, his eyes full of fear.

  Xorgon walked back to his mechanized vehicle, climbed into the cockpit and waited for the cameraman to get into position. Then he repeated his dismount. The cameraman filmed the shot exactly as instructed. It was as if Xorgon was the star of his own movie. He was so confident in his ability to conquer Zeplovia that he didn't see his behavior as absurd.

  Satisfied that he had obtained the shot, he entered the capital building. Once Xorgon was out of sight, the cameraman exchanged a glance with his assistant. There had been countless moments like this where Xorgon had insisted on specific shots as the Tarvaax rampaged throughout the galaxy. The current runtime for the compilation of footage that had been edited together for his biography was over 10 hours. No one was ever going to watch the entire thing unless mandated by decree—which Xorgon wasn't beyond doing.

  "My Lord, we've searched the premises and have found no trace of the president," Sergeant Ragnoth said. "There appears to be a secure bunker in the basement of the building."

  "She is there," he said with confidence. "Show me to the bunker."

  The sergeant escorted him down a staircase to a composite blast door. It was pitted and scarred from several attempts to blow it open—all of which failed. It was going to take a high-powered plasma cannon to cause any damage.

  Xorgon surveyed the door. There was a biometric access pad and camera. "Can you bypass the locking mechanism?"

  "Perhaps," said the sergeant. Then he added, "Given enough time."

  Xorgon grimaced. Patience was not one of his virtues. "Bring me one of the hostages."

  The sergeant motioned to a corporal who darted away and returned momentarily with a terrified woman. Her face was red and puffy, and tears streamed down her cheek. "Please, don't hurt m
e," she begged.

  Xorgon spoke in a soothing voice. "I promise, you won't feel a thing." He spoke the unified language of the Federation fluently and without any trace of an accent. The Federation had adopted the language over a century ago, and anyone who had any dealings with the Federation knew how to speak it—even the Federation's enemies.

  The woman didn't know what to make of Xorgon. Was he telling the truth? Or should she be even more terrified? She began mumbling a prayer to herself.

  Xorgon took her by the arm and pulled her in front of the camera embedded in the blast door. He spoke directly to the camera. "I know you can see me in there. By now you are aware that I have crushed your pathetic defenses. Your only option is complete and total surrender, which I will graciously accept. You have 10 minutes to respond. Failure to comply will result in the total and complete destruction of your planet." Xorgon grinned. He caressed the woman's head with his hand, gently gliding his talons over her scalp.

  She trembled with fear.

  Without warning, Xorgon pierced one of his black talons through her cranium, should like it were a pickax. Blood spurted out like a volcano. The wicked alien clutched her skull between his palms and sucked her brains from her skull like a monkey drinking coconut milk.

  When he was done, he dropped her carcass to the ground. Blood covered his mouth and dripped down his chin. He smiled into the camera. "Do hurry if you want your staff to live."

  5

  The metallic, tinny taste of blood still lingered in Zack's mouth. He glided his tongue over his split lip. It felt like a canyon. His left front tooth wiggled slightly. These small traumas paled in comparison to his throbbing headache and blurred vision. It took a moment for the room to come into view—long enough for him to focus on the stabbing pain between his eyes. It was clear that Dean had broken his nose. Zack could barely make out the blurry edge of the bandage over his nose. Not only that, the back of his head hurt like hell too, and his left arm was in a cast.