Storm’s Rage by Stone Keye

Chapter One - Will

We walked along a well-traveled road—Nahari, my Protector and trail partner, next to me. I’m determined to return to my childhood home with my head held high. I wasn’t sure how long I had been gone from the town I was born and raised in, but I guessed it had been at least a year but couldn’t be sure. There’s little need to track time in the Veccan, as the townspeople of New Phoenix called it. The official title was the Neutral Zone, a buffer area between the humans and the Waharans.

No one knew how long the Waharans had lived on this planet before human arrival, but there were hints they had migrated from another planet. They were a technologically advanced race that had reverted to their heritage of living in harmony with their environment. They still used technology but only to help the planet.

But there was no doubt. The Waharans still possessed powerful weapons.

Humans had become space explorers and, via a wormhole, found this planet, dubbing it New Earth. While scientists and astronauts waxed on about how we needed to reach out and learn about the universe, the real driving force was natural resources. Earth was overpopulated and rapidly running out of just about everything. New Earth was hailed as Earth’s savior until they discovered it already had inhabitants.

Inhabitants who were reluctant to turn it over to a race that simply wanted to strip it of its resources.

The same ones who quickly blew our greatest warships into bits before we could fire off a single shot. Afterward, the wormhole disappeared. Some said it collapsed from the short war, scientists suggested that it moved, but the Waharans said it was destroyed.

From the other end.

The humans that remained on New Earth were surprised and all too happy to sign a peace treaty offered by the Waharans. The treaty was a simple document that said the Waharans had their territory and the humans had theirs. The Veccan was to be a buffer zone between the two. Humans and Waharans were welcome to enter the Veccan as long as they carried no weapons other than basic needs like knives. It was a dangerous place, and most stayed away. Except me, of course, who now called it home.

Nahari nudged me, breaking me from my thoughts. “I feel your angst about returning home. Would another session help?”

My alien protector winked at me, pulling her Zetxka, a traditional Waharan robe, forward to reveal her blue breasts and wonderfully toned legs. She stood five-foot-six, with aqua blue skin that darkened when she was aroused. Her eyes twinkled a multitude of blues, greens, and reds, and I never grew tired of staring into them. Physically, her body was much like a human woman, except her hair was a dark green and a living part of her. I remembered the first time we had sex, and I ran my hand through her hair. It moved and wrapped itself around my fingers. It scared me so badly my cock fired off faster than a Discovery Day firecracker, leaving me red-faced and my cum dripping down my lover’s face.

Nahari didn’t find the humor in my statement when I said, “I heard it’s good for your complexion.”

I quickly learned that her hair could warn me when she was pissed off.

A cough brought me back to the moment. “Sorry, but no, thank you. Someone may be watching, and I don’t think a roll in the hay would be the thing to do right now,” I replied and instantly regretted my comment.

“What is hay, and why would we roll in it?” my trail partner asked with a look of confusion.

I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s an Earth saying. It means to have sex.”

Nahari frowned. “Then why not just say that?”

I laughed but did not reply. We’ve had many conversations like this, and it usually devolved into frustration for both of us.

As we walked, Narhari glared at a few automated mechs as they toiled the rocky fields. The mechs were nicknamed Badgers, a mythical creature from a planet I had only read about. They burrowed through the cement-like ground in futile attempts to make the ground fertile. Those mechs belonged to my family, and they were supposed to be my inheritance.

Exclusively, the farmers near the Veccan grew Cazinthium or Caz. My family was one of the farms that grew the prized crops this close to the Veccan. The soil here was rock solid, but the crops grew better. The downside was the constant flow of animals of various types that would explore our fields for a quick snack.

Caz looked and grew like a plant, but it was not. It had been nicknamed ‘Caz corn’ as it looked similar to corn plants. Corn is one of the few plants from Earth that grew well on my home planet. Scientists had studied Caz but knew little of what the thing truly was. But they quickly found a use for the crop—as a source of energy.

And growing Caz to support our people was supposed to be my future.

Growing up, I had a knack for all things farming and electronics. By age eleven, I could fix any mech, even when the Royal Academy mechanics couldn’t. By age fourteen, I had redesigned our mechs to operate more efficiently and reliably. Farmers everywhere clamored for my services on their mechs, and I made a lot of money for the farm. But I began to realize that our approach to farming Caz was wrong. As I repaired the farmer’s mechs, I tried to make my case to change our ways, but my words fell on deaf ears. Despite not being the son of a wealthy politician or businessman, I was accepted into the Royal Academy at age eighteen. Most don’t attend the Academy until they are at least twenty-one, but my test scores were just high enough to get me in early. The local farmers pooled their money, and I went away for six years.

I both loved and hated the Academy. There were so many things to learn, and I plowed into my studies, wanting to learn everything. I quickly learned how much of a bad idea that was. There’s one thing to be top in your class in a school for farmer’s kids and another to compete against students who have unlimited resources. Most of the students at the Academy had tutors, aides to do their research, and the money to buy whatever they needed to do well. When I wasn’t studying, I worked to pay for my stay. I rarely was invited to the rich kid’s parties. The few times I was, it was to serve drinks or clean up after a party. I worked three times harder than anyone else just to pass my classes.

Even still, I could have stayed at the Academy forever and lettered in every discipline as I loved to learn. But I ran into a bigger problem, like a runaway mech into a boulder—the Academy does not like ideas contrary to their opinions. The Academy Elite solely welcomed ideas that improved upon what they had deemed correct.

When I first questioned the way we farmed Caz, I was demonized. If it weren’t for my good grades and potential, I would have been kicked out. Thinking I just needed to prove my case better, I spent two years finding evidence. When I was ready, I showed my research to my two mentors. I was excited and expected to be hailed a hero for discovering the truth. My ideas would revolutionize our farms and provide the energy source we desperately needed to survive. Maybe even find us a way back to Earth. We could get rid of the Mechs, save the farmer's fortunes, and improve Caz output by at least four hundred percent.

It was at the end of the academic year, and my mentors said they would review my findings. I was disappointed they didn’t see the potential right away. But, in my naivety, I thought it was because they wanted to research my findings fully.

Three months later, at the end of the school break, I confronted the two. Demanding an answer, stating I would not leave them alone until they told me what they thought. Eventually, the Academy Master called me into his office. I was told never to show my research to anyone ever again, lest I be kicked out and my family stripped of their license to farm.

The news was a gut punch, and I took it hard. I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t listen until I researched the Academy leaders. What I found was they held the patents on the mechs and many of the other Caz farming equipment. My way would have cut off a significant source of income for the Academy and its leaders.

I later found that my mentors had taken some of my ideas and claimed them as their own. To my glee, both were eventually kicked out of the academy. Not for stealing my ideas but for seditious projects they had been working on. The Royal Guard received an anonymous tip about their research, and their computers were confiscated. Finding plans to eliminate Caz farming and take over the Academy, they were stripped of their powers and relegated to teaching classes in remote cities. The Academy Master was eventually removed when images of him performing lewd acts on men and women flooded the social net.

I never regretted my actions.

Nahari eyed the badgers as they clawed at the ground. Prostitutes! If they only knew how they destroy the life of this planet.

I laughed. Nahari taught me how to communicate with her via a mind link in exchange for me to teach her English. She still struggled with the nuances of the new language. “I think you mean Neanderthals. Prostitutes sell their bodies for sex.”

She halted and turned her head to me, her beautiful eyes boring into me. “So, some of your species will ask a price to couple, and others willingly pay for it? And the practice is popular, but those practicing this are frowned upon?”

Suppressing a chuckle. “Yes. I’ve heard it called the world’s oldest profession.”

My protector looked back at the badgers in the field. “If I could become a prostitute, I would. To be paid to couple would be much better than our current practice.”

“I would agree. Your mating process is too violent.” Sex for Nahari and her people was best described as mortal combat. If neither partner yielded, the two would fight to the death.

I sighed. “Let’s get this over with. We’re only here long enough to deliver the warning, then we leave, and we can couple as much as we like.”

Nahari looked out over the fields. “We have time. Maybe if you couple with the one that tore your soul, you could be whole again.”

I stared at her, then resumed my walk toward a reunion I long feared. “There’s no fixing my soul.”