ONCE UPON A LUCKY

  STAR

  Book II

  The Alpha Red Series

  N.D. SHAR

  Copyright © 2022 N.D. SHAR - Natalie Debrabandere

  All rights reserved.

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published or without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN: 9798797965084

  DEDICATION

  FOR MY GIRL DOWN UNDER

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Peter again for a wonderful cover design!

  And to all my readers:

  As always, thank you for reading and reviewing in all the good places.

  I appreciate you greatly!

  CHAPTER

  1

  This may be my last day on Earth… Literally.

  Sure, I’m due to leave the planet soon, but I would prefer not in a body bag. I find myself deep in an area they call The Pulse, in memory of a part of the world that was hit especially hard by nukes during WWIII. In the year 2218, planet Earth is an absolute jewel of a rock once again. Rich in life and bio-diversity, with thriving oceans, and populated by an advanced civilization who have left their bloody tribal past behind. Humanity is at one with one another now, no longer interested in killing their own kind. At least, that’s what I was assured after waking up in this world, following more than a hundred years in a forced coma. Long story, no pun intended. Anyway, I have been slowly re-connecting with the world since landing back on Earth, as well as equalizing the information I was given with the reality on the ground. Turns out it’s grittier than at first described.

  “Keep up,” my guide instructs.

  He’s a Torq. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a body covered in thick grey fur. There are not too many of them on Earth. They specialize in security work and tend to do most of it on cargo ships out in the solar system. This one is a thug through and through, working for the drug cartel whose boss I am currently trying to locate.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” he spits in a gravelly voice.

  I follow him through a maze of tiny streets lined with strip clubs, weapons stores, and illegal labs. The number one drug of choice in our galaxy in the 23rd Century is called NetBliss; a short-chain polypeptide agent which acts on neuro-transmitters in the brain to produce a lethally-addictive high. Basic concept, crazy-good results, I’m told. But the unlucky people who overdose on this thing end up as vegetables. Forever bliss may sound good in theory, but I’m not that desperate and I’ll take their word for it. Also, I’m not here looking for drugs. As we enter a darker area, I take the opportunity to slow down for a second and check on my back-up, without the Torq noticing.

  “Ely, you still copy?” I murmur.

  No answer via my inner comm system from the retired Galactic Alliance army officer who is supposed to ensure my safety, along with two other humans. Damn... I am fully armed and dangerous, of course, but the plan was not to go into this op completely solo. It all started well. The Torq accosted me in the one dive bar where I hoped he might do so. But now, we’re on our way to a different club, via a speedy shuttle ride, and I think Ely and his people may have lost us during the transfer. I have no idea what’ll happen when we arrive at the other place, but I was hoping to have them for the final show-down.

  “We’re headed to a place called Pulsar,” I relay under my breath.

  I hope he is getting these updates, but I also settle my mind on having to rely only on myself. Won’t be the first time, and I’m crazy enough to trust it won’t be a problem. Even when I was a troop commander in the Navy, I was known for my lone wolf streak. I toned it right down, of course. Individual bullshit was not tolerated at the time. Still. Now, I’m my own boss, so...

  “Hurry up!” he says.

  The Torq leads me past a long line of revelers waiting to be admitted into the club. I spot many humans; a few white-haired, albino-looking Elusyans; and several Elgon. With their beautiful androgynous bodies, flashing green eyes, and voracious sexual appetites, these are famously known as the kinky sex workers of the galaxy. It’s a strange world I’ve landed in. Some might say it fits me to a T.

  “Get in.”

  More orders from the Torq. Inside the club, raw music is pounding, and it instantly makes me shiver with a flood of matching energy. Swear I can see better, sharper, as adrenalin races through my system. Back-up or not, I’ll be ready to rock-and-roll when I need to. Not yet, though. I have to act normal and be patient. We make our way through a crowd of drunken aliens and similarly disorderly humans. Further away from the holographic disco balls and laser light beams, I follow up a flight of stairs onto another level. Round a corner we go, into a large room with carpeted walls. The aim is to muffle loud sounds, and I know it’s not only the music they try to stifle in here.

  “So, what’s the—”

  Let me tell you: there is nothing like staring down the barrel of a laser handgun to make you forget your words, and even I do, momentarily. The urge to go full-on assassin mode when the Torq lands a crushing hand on my shoulder is hard to resist. I could murder this guy with my bare hands if I wanted to. As he digs his nails into my flesh, the idea certainly appeals.

  “Don’t fucking move,” he says.

  I won’t, but not because he said so. I allow myself to glare at his colleague, who walks up to me with his gun still pointed at my face. Another bodyguard appears on the side.

  “Got any weapons?” he asks.

  “You got a brain?” I snap in reply.

  Even at the best of times, not many would dare to wander around this area unarmed, so why would I be different? With a grunt, he lifts the front of my shirt and relieves me of the pistol on my belt. The knife in a holster attached to my ankle also goes. But these are for show. The weapon I really took care to hide, a deadly blade fashioned out of flexible Elemtex, is well-concealed inside the waist lining of my trousers. He won’t find it, although he gives me a good rub. That level of insistence is unnecessary, for sure, and I have to mention it.

  “Be careful,” I murmur.

  “Or what?” he leers.

  “You might end up as carpet on the walls.” I say that with a sweet smile. “Just a friendly warning.”

  He doesn’t look worried in the least, or like he’s taking me seriously, which is a serious mistake. But I guess I don’t look that threatening in my civilian clothes. That’s intentional, of course. I don’t mean to conceal only weapons with my low-key attire, but also strong muscles and a fighter’s build fashioned from quality combat experience. My normally unruly black hair has turned even wilder since I let it grow out a bit, not for style but lack of interest. I’m told it makes me appear younger than my official thirty years of age. Definitely safer than I am, and I make sure to keep the lethal out of my clear grey eyes, too. I want these guys to feel nice and comfortable around me.

  “She’s clean,” Wandering Hands declares.

  “Told you so. Now, where’s your boss?”

  “What do you want with him?”

  “Business. None of yours.”

  Just because I don’t want to come across as a threat doesn’t mean being obnoxious is off the table. It keeps my spirits up, at least, since Ely has gone completely silent in my ear.

  “Let’s go,” my original guide says.

  We move deeper into the building and down three levels. I need to keep track of location; this place is like a maze. It’s also extremely silent now. No more music coming through, and not a single happy disco ball in sight. It’s darker here, and I don’t just mean in terms of the light. Even if I did not already know the true purpose behind this place, which isn’t entertainment, I’d feel something is wrong with it. Fear hovers in the air. It lingers thick and heavy, and I take a quiet breath to steady myself, as we reach another armored door.

  “I’m going in with you,” the Torq informs me.

  “Suit yourself, shaggy boy,” I wink.

  He snarls at the insolence, but that’s all. I almost break into a smile as I remember my friend Stella, who would never let me get away with this sort of insult. Not that she’s shaggy herself, mind you. Smooth in all the right places, more like, and I focus once again, as the Torq leads me into the inner sanctum. Finally! I have just spent a long week haunting the worst bars and clubs in the area, establishing my cover story, in order to get to this point. Officially, I’m a buyer acting on behalf of a rich Galactic Council member who wants his identity protected. Close enough to the truth that I don’t need to think about it. Safer this way.

  “Stand in the circle,” a low voice instructs.

  I stop in the center of one painted on the bare concrete floor. Cameras on all sides. I clock the Torq, as well, taking up position on the left with his handgun.

  “What’s your name?” the voice says.

  As my eyes adjust, I’m afforded a first glimpse of the man they all call The Manager. A cyborg… His right eye is gone, replaced by a glowing orange orb. He’s got metallic teeth and fingers, a full artificial hand, and I wonder what else is no longer really him under the black tux he wears.

  �
��Name’s Redfield,” I answer.

  At the same time, I’m also looking around without making it too obvious that I’m casing the joint. This room is small, stark, cold. Secure and sound-proofed, for sure, but what I’m looking for is not in here. A bit more patience will be required with this lot. I know I’ll only get one chance to get the job done.

  “Redfield,” he repeats. “So, you enjoy blissing out?”

  “I’m not here for me. This is strictly business.”

  The urge to add ‘Sir’ to my every reply is normally pretty strong after my years in the military, but I don’t feel it with him. On the scale of scumbags I’ve encountered throughout my life, he scores pretty high. I just manage to hide my distaste, while he flashes a metallic rictus from the couch he’s sitting on.

  “How much are you looking to buy?”

  “I’m not after drugs.” I glance briefly at the Torq. “Already told your fluffy friend, here.”

  “Who’s your client? And how come I’ve never heard of you before, Redfield?”

  “That’s confidential. Both questions.”

  The door behind him has a bio-lock on it, meaning that it will only open with an iris scan. I assume from his one good eye. I bet my target is behind there, somewhere. You don’t just put a bio-lock on any door for the fun of it. These things cost a lot, and it’s the only one I’ve seen in here so far.

  “Well, I don’t do business with strangers,” he lets me know in a lazy drawl. “I run the show here, Redfield. You’ll do well to remember that if you want to trade in this sector. Or stay alive long enough to keep secrets, for that matter.”

  “I was on Mars,” I volunteer, which, again, is close enough to the truth. “Enjoying the beach, drinking and partying.”

  “That’s more like it. What made you come back?”

  “Money,” I shrug. “What else?”

  He laughs. Clearly, that’s a language he understands.

  “Your client must be filthy rich, uh? One of these guys with a questionable past and even more corrupt instincts. A Galactic higher-up of some kind.”

  “Of some kind,” I concede.

  He’s way off, although I have no doubt that his usual clients are as he described, impossibly rich and equally shady. But the official who hired me is a woman, first of all. With crystal-clear morals and impeccable ethics on top of that. Her name is Sylad. She is the Elusyan representative assigned to the Earth Council. I had the pleasure of making her acquaintance through Bryn, my Cyclopean friend.

  “How much you got to spend?” The Manager asks.

  “You think I’m a rookie, don’t you?” I smirk. “Show me the goods and I’ll make you an offer based on quality. If you want to do business with me, that’s how it’s gonna be.”

  My pulse picks up as he leans forward into the light. I catch a hint of grey metal plate under his cheeks, a patch of missing skin under his ear. Boy, this guy’s ugly! I read him right, though. With the way I challenged him, he looks interested. Hooked onto this game. Now, we’re talking.

  “Tell me what you’re looking for,” he nods.

  “A slave,” I reply, without hesitation. “Preferably young, tender. And a girl. I hear you’re a connoisseur when it comes to kids?”

  CHAPTER

  2

  Vice and war… These two can be said to endure across all ages, at least in my recent experience. There may be civilizations out there which managed to completely extinguish or conquer their most basic and deviant instincts; but I’ve yet to meet one. It’s sad but true for us, humankind. Filthy compulsions exist on Earth in the 23rd Century, just like they did in my time. Coming across as believable and calm when I speak to the piece of shit in front of me, who should never be allowed to refer to himself as human, requires all of my will and self-control. It’ll be a joy to smash his face later, once I’ve managed to rescue the girl I’m describing to him.

  “I do indeed have a taste for the finer things in life,” he tells me, as if I’d just paid him a compliment by saying he’s into child abuse.

  “So has my client.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “I don’t have much time. Can I see the goods?”

  He pours himself a drink and leans back against the couch. Doesn’t answer my question, and asks one of his own instead.

  “So, Redfield. Been living it up on Mars, uh?”

  “Correct.”

  I don’t have even a tenth of a drop of respect for this guy, but I am aware and respectful of the power that he holds in this moment. He’s out of my reach over there. Every time I glance to the side, I confirm that the Torq has me in his sights. My position is tricky, to say the least. Vulnerable. I never make the mistake of under-estimating my opponents, which is why I’m going to be extra-careful handling this conversation.

  “See, I have a problem with you,” he announces.

  “Takes people a bit more than two minutes to develop one, usually.”

  “Well, I’m not like most people.”

  “Clearly,” I say with an ironic eyebrow raised.

  “Watch your mouth,” he snarls. “People disappear here all the time. Piss me off, and it won’t be a quick death, either.”

  I would tell him not to be so damn sensitive, but expediting my demise would not be conducive to my overall purpose.

  “You’re a legend out there is what I meant to say,” I correct.

  “Alright.” He does like that, it’s clear as well, but he’s still cautious about the new buyer in front of him. “A life away on another planet doesn’t explain why your implant is so clean.”

  Good thing I spent some time researching everything about my new world when I came back to Earth, otherwise I would be clueless as to what he means. My neural implant connects me to the CHC: the Cloud of Human Consciousness. We also had a cloud in my time, but we just used it to store information. In the 23rd Century, new humans receive an implant before they are even born, and the CHC is more like an extra brain that holds our civilization together. I think of it as a ‘Mother-Mind’, more or less. And although I was told when I got mine that an implant is totally un-hackable, which I hope is true, it doesn’t mean that one cannot obtain interesting background info on someone else through it.

  “I don’t like people spying on me,” I say. “I’m sure you can relate to that.”

  “It costs a lot to wipe an implant clean and yours is one of the best jobs I’ve seen in a long time,” he insists. “People never go to such lengths unless they need to cover serious stuff. What’s yours? Murder? You’re wanted by the galactic cops? You got five seconds to tell me. Be wise, Redfield. Talk.”

  I pretend to look worried, glance at the Torq, and drop my head for a second.

  “I was a soldier,” I mumble.

  “Ah!” He definitely enjoys that admission. “Go on, tell me more.”

  “I went AWOL, okay?”

  “You’re a deserter?” He laughs. “My, my! No wonder you got that implant restored to factory settings. The Alliance don’t take kindly to your kind. They execute cowards like you.”

  He’s more relaxed now, happy to think he’s got dirt on me and that it gives him the advantage in our exchange, somehow. In the corner, the Torq chuckles darkly.

  “Now you know, can we get down to business?”

  “Alright. So, your client’s looking for a young girl. Yes? A fresh spirit to break?”

  “Yeah,” I nod.

  “What species is he after?”

  I don’t want to sound like I know too much, so I reply that any will do.

  “I may have something in stock,” he says.

  May as well be talking about merchandise, and this level of insanity is fascinating, in a way. I wonder what happened to him to turn him into such a monster, make him forget his humanity. Or was he born this way? A familiar voice inside my head cuts through that thought.

  ‘Red, we’re outside the club. We’ve got your back.’

  So, Ely and his team finally caught up. I make my reply to The Manager fit for him, too.

  “Okay, that’s great to hear.”

  “Before I show you, though, I need to know how much you bring to the table,” Skeleton Guy tells me again.

  “Money’s no object if you’ve got quality. But I need to see.”