Galactic Champion 2 Read online

  Galactic Champion (Book 2)

  Dante King

  Copyright © 2019 by Dante King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  I woke up to one soft, warm body in front of me and one behind me. Beatrix gently stroked my ear with one of her tentacles. Yaltu was pushed up close under my arm. I knew it was her without moving or opening my eyes because of her scent. Maybe it was pheromones, maybe it was just her. I was glad to be alive, even if all three of us were lying on a thin blanket on the hard ground with nothing more than a light sheet, damp from the fog.

  A gentle breeze played across the surface of the nearby lake, making little waves splash against the shore. Small bug-like creatures danced in the air. I absently wondered how many Skrew had eaten.

  I could have stayed there all day, but we needed to keep moving. We were, after all, responsible for destroying large sections of a major city, Brazud. The dragons had probably done immense damage to the infrastructure and buildings, and we were the ones who’d turned them loose.

  I didn’t feel bad about it, though. Not even a little. The dragons had been subjected to a kind of torture I couldn’t even imagine. They’d been implanted with tech used to control their minds and their actions. It wasn’t done professionally either—not even close. The implant points had still been oozing blood when the dragons fought in the arena against Reaver, Beatrix, and me. The mighty creatures were in pain and couldn’t do anything about it. Until we set them free.

  The citizens of Brazud had a lot to worry about without coming to look for us, though. Many, if not most, of their guards had been killed in the battles and skirmishes throughout the city. I didn’t see any fires when we left, but it wouldn't have surprised me if there were some now. They had power, and when electricity met brute force, dragon teeth, and crashing hoverships, fires were bound to break out. In fact, at that moment, I thought I could smell smoke—and we had to be at least six miles away.

  Yaltu stirred, turned her head, and kissed my neck. Her lips on my skin sent shivers down my spine. Beatrix’s long fingers stroked my chest a couple times before she sat up and stretched. She’d wanted to reward me for rescuing her from the arena, and I’d been all too happy to oblige.

  I’d changed a lot since first earning the name Paladin, and even more since arriving on this planet, which Yaltu in the post-reward calm of our makeshift bed had said was called Druma. Gone was my vow of approximate celibacy, and I now found myself with three beautiful women. And there was another elsewhere on the planet: Enra the Ish-Nul woman. I intended on reuniting with her. I at least wanted to give her the chance to join me, or say goodbye if she chose to stay behind when we left Druma.

  I sat up, my head still-groggy, and discovered the smoke wasn’t coming from Brazud. Reaver was cooking meat, skewered on sticks over a small fire. She chewed on the purple fruit Yaltu was fond of, and there was more on a small stack of wide leaves she was using as plates.

  “Just in time.” She tossed a piece of the local fruit to me. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

  “Thanks.” I bit into the sweet fruit. I tore the flesh free and leaned forward to keep the juice from running down my entire front. I chewed a few more times, with a question on my mind that I couldn’t ask until I swallowed.

  “What’s this?” I pointed to the meat on the sticks. “You finally had enough of Skrew’s shenanigans?”

  She looked where I was pointing and scowled. “I wouldn't eat him! He’s probably nothing but gristle. Plus, with what he eats, he’d be gamy and gross.”

  “And he’s a member of the team,” I added with a smile.

  Reaver rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, he is.”

  Beatrix got up and sat down near the fire. “Good morning.” She looked at me. “You made me feel things I have never felt before.”

  I smiled. “Can’t say I’ve ever slept with a tentacled woman before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Reaver said with a wink. “I sent Skrew looking for more fruit, mostly to keep him busy. He wanted to scold all of us for… well… last night. So, he’s out doing something useful.”

  “Last night?” Yaltu asked as she walked up. “Whatever do you mean?” She made a show of grabbing my ass. I must have made a surprised expression because all three women giggled. Even from two badass Void-touched warriors and a dragon tamer, it was adorable.

  Yaltu stopped laughing and pointed to our left. Skew was emerging from the woods, all four of his arms burdened with fruits, some royal purple like the one Reaver had given me, others shades of red and yellow.

  “Oh, poor thing,” Yaltu said. “Some of those aren’t ripe and won’t be for several more days. I’ll go help him.”

  A moment later, Skrew was back at camp and had dumped all the fruit he was carrying across the big leaves Reaver had set out, much to her annoyance.

  “Jacob was awesome!” he breathed. “Jacob kill king of Brazud. Smash to ground!” He shoved a small red fruit in his mouth and chewed vigorously for no more than a second before his face twisted into a knot.

  “What is the matter?” Beatrix asked him, grinning mischievously. “A little bitter?”

  Skrew tried to smile as he nodded slowly and pushed the half-chewed fruit out of his mouth.

  “You have to wait until they’re purple,” Reaver said, laughing.

  Everyone joined her, but Yaltu stifled her giggle and covered her mouth. She was definitely the nicest one of us. Skrew took the joke well, though.

  “Here.” Reaver tossed him a plump, purple one. “This one should taste better. And there’s meat ready whenever you are.”

  Skrew didn’t waste any time. He shoved the fruit in his big mouth, almost hiding it completely from view, and snatched a stick from the fire. Skewered on it were five chunks of roasted meat, charred at the edges and cleanly cooked. He chewed slowly, turning the stick in front of his face while the juices dripped by and onto his feet.

  I squatted down and examined the double-bladed scepter I’d taken from King Demetrios. With my sword, Ebon, I didn’t need it. I’d already given it a name: Clarent. It was made of the same Void-black material as Ebon.

  I looked at Reaver and wondered whether she’d like the scepter. She still had the sabers she’d taken from the wagon in the arena, but one of them was broken. Clarent would be a whole lot more useful to her than a single saber. Moreover, she was accustomed to using close-combat weapons, like the MSM vibro-blade.

  “I took this from Demetrios,” I said, offering the weapon to her. “I think you might like it.”

  “Would I ever?” She grinned as she explored the weapon with her eyes and hands.

  I picked up a stick and took a bite. The meat was tender and familiar.

  “This is good,” I said around a big mouthful of meat. “What is it?”
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br />   “You sure you want to know?” Reaver asked.

  I nodded.

  “It’s this big bug I found before I was captured,” she continued. “It looks like a giant centipede. Lives in the water. Ambushes you when you get too close.”

  “Steakapede,” I said. “That’s what I call them, and yes, they are delicious!”

  “Water snakes,” Yaltu said around her own mouthful. “That’s what some call them. Others say they’re the souls of those who died a dishonorable death. The Kakul believe they’re the mother species from which theirs descended.”

  Kakul were short, frog-like creatures. I’d encountered some when I first entered Brazud. Though I didn’t have more than a minute’s experience with them, they seemed to be bad drivers, rude, pugnacious, and probably as dangerous as a rusty butter knife when they weren’t piloting a two-ton hovership. The thought of the steakapede as their ancestor made me wonder how smart they were as well. Well, if they tasted anything near as good as this, perhaps there was some use for these Kakul after all. I chuckled, knowing I’d never even consider eating any creature that could speak to me, even if it was only to curse at me.

  Reaver had gone back to inspecting Clarent. She suddenly passed it to Beatrix, who pointed at the activation button and handed it back to her. Then, Reaver held it above her head, pressed the button, and gasped when the blades unfolded. She shot me a look that could only mean one thing: Awesome!

  We’d never trained with the exact type of weapon Reaver held in her hands. But it wouldn’t take her long to figure it out. She picked up the saber that wasn’t broken and a scabbard from the dirt next to her and gave them to Yaltu, who accepted them with a big smile of her own.

  Yaltu wasn’t a warrior, but that didn’t mean she had to be unarmed. Plus, the slender blade seemed to match her personality and style. I was glad both of them were happy with the arrangement.

  We’d left our firearms behind because, without more ammunition, they were little more than glorified clubs. Then we’d be carrying around the heavy, cumbersome things for nothing. I doubted we’d be able to refill them too. The only places I’d found firearms up to now was in Brazud and the vrak Refinery.

  Skrew swallowed, slipped the remaining food off his stick with his other three hands, and gasped. He bounced the too-hot chunks of meat from hand to hand.

  “Jacob sworded the king, yes?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Jacob is hero! Jacob fight! Zap—zap—Pew!” He danced around, occasionally nibbling his food as he reenacted the scenes. They were totally inaccurate portrayals coming from an overactive imagination, since he hadn’t actually been there. When he had completed his performance, he licked most of the meat juices off an empty hand and feigned grabbing his heart before falling over onto his back.

  “King died like?” He peeked at me from one squinted eye.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But it’s a fair approximation.”

  I stood and walked a few yards to the lake, gesturing to Skrew to follow me. He hadn’t filled me in on what had happened while I was busy fighting Demetrios yet. If his descriptions were accurate, which I doubted, it sounded like they’d killed hundreds of guards, and he’d been responsible for most of the kills.

  When I knelt down on the bank, reached into the lake, and splashed water in my face, a tickle and pull at my neck reminded me of the artifact I’d won from Shesh, one of Yaltu’s people. He’d named it Spirit-Watcher. Shesh had been on a hunt with his group, and when they’d caught Skrew, I’d been forced to defend him. I’d spared Shesh’s life, and in return, he’d given me the black, crescent-shaped artifact. When you looked through it, the item showed the world in far more detail. It was almost like a visor you might find on a helmet.

  What Shesh considered to be the spirit world was basically a heads-up display. It would show everything, literally everything, about whatever the wearer was looking at—even the pollen count in the air. But there was so much information, it clouded my ability to concentrate on any one thing.

  I tucked the tech back under my shirt. It wasn’t useful to me, but I had a strong sense that it would be useful to someone.

  When we returned to the others, Skrew continued to act out the battles.

  “Skrew helped big!” he said, looking to Reaver for confirmation.

  She nodded and smiled, which only seemed to encourage his antics.

  “Skrew knows how to shoot big, big gun! Shoot the bad guard. Then, other bad guard. Then, guard running away.” He proceeded to make energy-weapon noises. At least, I thought they were the sounds of energy weapons. They also resembled a bird being beaten against a rock. The last utterance he made, though, reminded me of a plasma weapon discharging, including the hiss of it hitting wet dirt. It was eerie how accurate the sound was. I turned to him, impressed, until I realized it had been real energy-weapon fire.

  I drew my sword, ready to lop a head off, and was surprised to see a line of armed vrak emerging from the woods. There had to be almost two dozen of them. In the center of their line sat the fattest vrak I’d ever seen. He was sitting on a kind of rickshaw. On his head was something resembling a crown, but it was made of scrap metal rather than gold.

  “Drop weapons!” a guard ordered. “This here new king of Brazud! Drop weapons! Kneel to king!”

  Another one already?

  If the fires had gone out, the king’s body might be cold, but with all the chaos going on, I didn’t think they would have had time to elect a new king. Then I remembered what Yaltu had said. There would be a fight for power; but could someone already have reigned victorious? And could that someone truly be an overweight vrak with a scrap metal crown? He was a far cry from Demetrios, that was for sure.

  Still, I didn’t understand much about monarchies. Kings weren’t elected. They didn’t have a run-up, with debates, endless media coverage, or rallies. They just assumed power and poof, they were king.

  While having a ruler could stabilize a population and give everyone rules to live by, I had no doubt that if the fat vrak was left unchecked, he’d turn out to be another Demetrios. Well, maybe nowhere near as powerful, but still a real asshole.

  The last thing the people of Brazud needed was another cruel dictator. It was time to put the vrak in his place.

  “King has come for the Jacob!” said the vrak guard. “Wishes for the Jacob to kneel and serve him!”

  He knew my name? It seemed my antics in the arena and the rest of Brazud had drawn the new king’s attention.

  Skrew gasped and looked to me. I shook my head curtly, but he turned away and started to move as if he was going to kneel. I didn’t blame him. Not with 20 energy weapons pointed in his direction.

  Reaver glanced at me. The confusion on her face told me loud and clear what she was thinking. Is this idiot for real?

  Beatrix, however, outright laughed, then snorted, then laughed at her snort. She wasn’t worried at all. The fingers on her right hand flexed and relaxed. She was ready to smash heads with her glowing hammer.

  Yaltu remained silent, her face blank. If she was worried, she didn’t show it.

  I didn’t have time for nonsense. I needed to get the ones I cared for out of harm’s way. And I couldn’t leave Brazud in the hands of another wicked ruler, even if he was too round to do anything himself. He could, and likely would, order others to do the dirty work while he basked in his own glory.

  No, I decided, this ends now. But I don’t have to kill him.

  I quickly formed a plan and proceeded to execute it.

  “Sierra,” I whispered to Reaver.

  She looked down at her scepter and frowned. She was probably wondering how she’d accomplish such a feat with her new weapon. But then, she looked up to me, nodded, and slowly pulled it out of her waistband without deploying the blades. She didn’t want to activate the weapons and scare the enemy into firing. It wasn’t ideal, but she could still use the two-and-a-half-foot silver scepter to inflict some blunt-force trauma.

>   Beatrix’s crackling hammer drew my attention.

  “Try not to kill them,” I whispered from the corner of my mouth. “I have a plan.”

  I heard a click, and the crackling stopped. Her weapon would be far more effective as a blunt instrument than Reaver’s, but she’d also have to concentrate harder to avoid killing any of the guards. If they all lived, the chances of my plan working would improve. For each that died, the chances diminished.

  “How about you drop your weapons!” I yelled at the vrak guards.

  They glanced at each other, confused expressions under their simple helmets. Obviously, they’d expected to be obeyed, yet two humans, a woman with tentacles for hair, a fellow vrak, and a human-like lizard-woman were just standing there, not kneeling and not trying to run away. It seemed to drain the bravado right out of them.

  “No!” a guard said. “King say you drop weapons. Do, or get many shot!”

  “No,” I said.

  The guard’s expression became befuddled, and he shuffled sideways from his position near the left end of the line to the fat vrak in the rickshaw. They whispered for a moment before the guard turned back to us. He stepped forward and covered half the 15-yard distance between us, a grim look on his face. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, his rifle raised in my direction.

  Clang!

  A rock about the size of my fist bounced off his helmet. The guard crumpled to the ground like a canvas sack filled with rocks.

  “He’ll live,” Reaver said with a wicked grin.

  And the fight was on.

  Two guards targeted me, but I already had Ebon out of its scabbard. Energy blasts hit the blade and vanished. If the guards noticed or were surprised, they didn’t show it. Instead, they kept firing.