Alien Apocalypse Part IV
“He'd wipe out all of us, given any excuse at all..."
In the fourth and final chapter of the ALIEN APOCALYPSE series, Jet Tetsuo, famous “Samurai” of the Rings, finds herself a slave in the home of her mortal enemy, Trazen, and desperate to escape. At first that prospect seems impossible, even if she manages to find allies among Trazen’s other human slaves––but events swiftly unfold that show her nothing is what it seems, not even Trazen himself.
Jet discovers a version of the Green Zone she never dreamed existed…filled with human terrorists and potential allies, as well as a new fanatical breed of Nirreth who would prefer to see the human race in chains.
When the First Son of the Royals announces his intention to annihilate most of the human race, Jet must decide just how far she’s willing to go to stop him. With the lives of both races in the balance, she might have to trust the very people she swore she’d never trust…or risk losing everyone she’s ever cared about.
NOW IN KINDLE UNLIMITED!
Jet stood over a sunlight-speckled pool of crystal-blue water, staring down at a vibrating reflection of herself in a long, flowing, yet somehow form-revealing dress.
Stone urns, taller than herself, stood at the four corners of the room, filled with palm trees that rose to breathtaking heights––or so they seemed to Jet, being used to the twisted scrub trees and mutated pines from outside the Green Zone. The tree trunks and branches rose up through the open slats of the slanted, wooden roof, made all the taller from being planted indoors.
Jet could feel wind on her face…it felt like real wind.
She heard birds, saw their wings expand forward and jerk back as they flitted from tree to tree in looping trails. All that motion and life lived in the background, though.
She heard people here.
They splashed in the water on the other end of the pool, chattering amongst themselves in skag languages she remembered from the pits. They sounded happy, although their voices remained subdued, almost soft-spoken. Jet wondered if, like her, they remained forever conscious of their place inside the hierarchy of this home.
Still, they didn’t seem at all afraid.
She smelled the faint whiff of smoke as some of them indulged in hand-rolled cigarettes they must have bought at the market not far from the main house. They gossiped about people whose names sounded vaguely familiar to her, although she couldn’t tie anything concrete to those names in her head…politics, sporting events, theater, other slaves who shared similar duties with her inside this house. She’d been educated in famous Nirreth names, at one point or another…she could recite bits and pieces of that knowledge even now, but her mind remained curiously blank when no one needed anything of her.
She encouraged that blankness whenever other Nirreth were present.
Trazen taught her ways to do that…ways to appear uninteresting to others of his kind.
But now, being more or less alone, she fought to think. She felt a vague urgency to try harder on this day. More of an urgency than she’d felt for what seemed like months…even years of time spent in this bland beauty with its slow-moving days and nights. Jet fought the effects of Trazen’s venom even now, trying to grasp pieces of who she was again, to remember who inhabited the body she wore.
The effort fatigued her, but she didn’t stop.
Eventually she felt tired, however, and significantly less content.
The latter told her that her efforts to get past the venom were probably working. Even so, she had only marginal success. Despite the hours that had passed since she’d last seen him, she just had too much of Trazen in her system still. While that fact alone wasn’t at all unpleasant, she couldn’t really connect to him in any real way either, which just left her blank.
Jet felt clear enough to have the occasional emotional surge.
Fear, anger, desperation, frustration…grief.
Her mind flickered over events, memory. Laksri. Anaze. Anaze’s father, Eamon Richter. She remembered seeing Laksri fall…
She would be running in the Rings that night.
The thought startled her.
She hadn’t run in the Rings in weeks…months, maybe. Even so, when the thought crossed her mind, floating between those blank spaces, it felt true.
It felt true enough that it returned to the forward part of Jet’s mind again a few minutes later, trying to become meaningful to her, perhaps out of an animalistic desire for self-presevation.
She had to survive. She didn’t know why anymore, not precisely, but the desire burned there, fierce inside her chest.
Of course, Trazen might not let her.
He might not let her survive.