Tarkken Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  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

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Coming Next

  Available Now

  About the Author

  TARKKEN

  Book Four of the Intergalactic Soulmates Series

  Annabelle Rex

  COPYRIGHT © 2020 PROSPECT AND RAVEN Ltd

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Chapter 1

  IT HAD TO BE SUNNY, MARTA thought, as she leaned against the taxi, staring up the long driveway at the figure ambling towards her. While others were rejoicing the warm summer days, flooding to the city parks with their blankets and picnic baskets, Marta wished for grey clouds and a cool breeze. Or to be on an environmentally controlled space ship. Already, she could feel her pale skin prickling with heat. Sweat began to build on the back of her neck, her mop of curls heavy. She scowled behind her oversized sunglasses, knowing she’d have that oh so attractive white eyes, pink cheeks and forehead look if she was kept waiting much longer.

  But the figure continued to take their sweet time, still not even close enough for Marta to identify whether or not they were who she was waiting for. She thought they would get a bit more of a move on, considering the building they were walking away from was one of His Majesty’s Prisons.

  “Could have been arriving on the Olympia,” she muttered to herself.

  The transport shuttle carrying Asha and her family would probably be docking right about now. Marta imagined what it would be like, stepping on to a space station fifty times the size of the one orbiting Earth. All that glorious, climate controlled space. Not to mention all the ripped athletes that would be wandering around.

  Marta didn’t know how being single worked in the Intergalactic Community, where the Match test paired most people off within a year or so of taking it. But it didn’t pair everybody. There were several billion people on Earth who hadn’t taken the test, and she doubted they would all pair with each other. So there had to be some space equivalent of a singles bar. Somewhere she could have gone looking for some Intergalactic loving.

  Asha would have argued that if she wanted it, she could just take the test. But Marta was neither about exclusivity nor about settling down. Why have one Intergalactic lover when you could have multiple? Maybe even some of them at the same time…

  The sound of her name being called snapped her back in to the present moment. The figure was closer now, resolving into a familiar shape. A bit more grizzled, a bit more grey than last time she’d seen him as a free man. But here, on the outside at last. Marta just wished he could have timed it a little better.

  “Marta, moja córka!” he said, throwing his arms wide as he came close to her, beaming.

  Marta’s Polish was rudimentary at best, but she didn’t need the translator behind her ear twisting these words into English. He greeted her this way every time he saw her, ever since she could remember.

  My daughter.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, trying not to wince as he wrapped her in a bear hug, his body heat adding to her level of discomfort.

  Piotr Kowalczyk had never been a big man, but he made up for what he lacked in height and build with force of personality. Even now, when Marta was ten years too old and too wise to be enthralled by her father’s presence, he still felt somehow bigger than he physically was. He held her way longer than Marta considered socially acceptable, but she didn’t complain. Let him have this moment, she thought. When he released her, she gestured to the taxi.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  The number on the metre was already blinding, but Marta let the taxi take them all the way home. Inside it, her father couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t get distracted. It was the perfect opportunity to lay down some ground rules.

  “I hope you’re feeling energetic,” she said “Because we’ve got a busy itinerary today.”

  Her father beamed. “You treating your old man to a nice day out?” he said. Then, to the taxi driver. “She’s a good girl, she knows how to look after her father.”

  “I’m treating you to a trip to the Job Centre,” Marta said, voice firm. “And then to the house share I’ve found for you…”

  “I won’t be staying with you?” he said, looking stung.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Dad, I’m twenty-four. That’s too old to be living with my parent. It’s a nice house share. Reasonable condition for the price, and decent people living there.”

  That had been more important to Marta than anything else. She’d hunted extensively for a place where the people were nice, law-abiding people, who were also willing to take a chance on an ex-con. Her father could have got a room much cheaper in one of the halfway houses, but that would mean him living with a load of other recently released prisoners, and Marta didn’t want him in that sort of social circle. He was too easily influenced. She hoped these people she’d found for him to live with would influence him some in the other direction.

  Her father looked hurt for a moment, but then a grin started to spread slowly across his face. “You have yourself a young man,” he said. “That’s why you don’t want me living with you.”

  “No, Dad,” Marta said. “My place is a bedroom and my office for work, and that’s it. That’s why I don’t want you living with me.”

  “You don’t have a young man? Why not? Pretty girl like you. They should be knocking down your door.”

  “If they tried, I would be calling the police,” Marta said. “I don’t appreciate acts of vandalism against my home.”

  “A young woman then?”

  “No, Dad, no young man, no young woman. We’re not discussing my love life, we’re talking about your future and what you’re going to do with it.”

  He waved his hand, as if it really didn’t matter. “I thought I would take a nice walk in the fresh air,” he said. “Enjoy being back on the streets. Maybe visit a nice pub…”

  “No.” Marta cut him off, sharp. “You’re staying away from pubs. No drinking. We’re going to have some lovely father-daughter time filling in job application forms. I also got you an appointment to get a translator-”

  “Nie, no translator,” her father said.

  “Don’t be an idiot. Almost everyone has them these days, and you’ll find it harder to get work without one.”

  “Not having no aliens messing with my brain. You think they’re here for any good reason? One day, they are gonna press a button and turn all those people with translators into zombies, you’ll see.”

  Marta took a calming breath. “I’m going to forgive you your blinding ignorance because you’ve never had the opportunity to speak to a member of the Intergalactic Community.”

  “Don’t need to speak to them. Know all I need to.” He had his arms folded across his chest, a petulant pout on his face.

  Marta sighed. “Ah yes, that reliable source of information that is the prison echo chamber. Definitely trust all the people who have been locked up for years over your daughter.”

  “People in prison aren’t stupid.”

  No, Marta thought, and that was part of her father’s problem, too. He was an idiot in so many ways, but not stup
id.

  “I’m not saying they’re stupid,” Marta said, “I’m saying they’re unreliable.”

  “You think I’m unreliable?”

  “What did we do for my fifteenth birthday, Dad?”

  A low blow, and Marta couldn’t believe she was having to roll it out already. Her father winced, but he stopped grumbling.

  “A trip to the Job Centre?” he said, looking like he’d rather wrestle a giant squid than step foot inside one.

  “Yes, Dad,” Marta said. “And if we get enough applications filled in, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

  Marta knew the Job Centre appointment wasn’t going to go well the moment she stepped through the front door, her eyes landing on a huge poster proclaiming the benefits of a translator. Her father’s expression went sullen and he muttered under his breath in Polish, Marta’s translator picking up every word.

  “Well I’m delighted to hear such bigotry from you, Dad,” she said, “but may I remind you that you won’t get away with that grumbling in another language thing, now. Everyone can understand you.”

  “You’ve been learning Polish?” he said, and even though she was furious with him, it still hurt her heart a little how delighted he looked.

  “No, of course I haven’t been learning Polish,” she said. “I did what everyone else has done. I got a translator.”

  His delight morphed in to horror. “Marta, you need to get that thing removed. They’ll use it to see into your brain.”

  “Have you or any of your friends ever met a member of the Intergalactic Community? No? Didn’t think so. Well, I have. So why don’t you trust me on this. They’re fine.”

  She moved to walk past him, drag him through into the Centre.

  “You’ve taken the test,” he said, and she was surprised to hear he sounded close to tears. “That’s why you don’t want me living with you. You’ve got some alien waiting at home, telling you he’s more important than your father. Your flesh and blood.”

  “Nice try on the guilt trip,” Marta said, what little patience she had left worn to breaking point. “But no, I haven’t taken the test. No member of the Intergalactic Community is brainwashing me against you. Newsflash, Dad, you did that yourself. Now, I am trying my hardest here to give you a chance. But if you don’t want me to just walk out that door, I suggest you get with my program and do what I want you to do. I cancelled a holiday with friends to be here for you. Don’t make me regret that.”

  The woman they had an appointment with must have sensed the tension, for she plastered a bright smile on her face, as if her enthusiasm could paper over their cracks. For a little while, it worked. Her father always loved the chance to be charming, and he chatted with the woman like she wasn’t twenty years younger than him, and he wasn’t in dire need of a decent hair cut. The woman took it all with that same bright smile. She definitely wasn’t being paid enough to put up with this.

  The harmless old flirt routine came to an abrupt halt when the woman began questioning him about the types of work he would be interested in.

  “We’ve got plenty of factory work available. If you’d be amenable to working night shifts, you get an antisocial hours payment on top of the basic wage that really adds up over…”

  “Nie, no factory work,” her father said. “A manager position, maybe, but not factory floor.”

  “Reality check, Dad,” Marta said. “You aren’t qualified for a managerial position. You’ve got no experience.”

  “Moja córka, you know how little they pay factory workers. It’s not enough to get by.”

  “Yes, it is. People all over the city get by doing factory work. I know it’s not a lot of money, but you’d be able to pay your rent and buy necessities. And in six months, once you’ve proved yourself a good worker, maybe there would be better opportunities for you. You could get a supervisor position. Work your way up.”

  He just shook his head. “Nie. What else?”

  “Um.” The sunny smile had gone from the woman’s face, and Marta suspected she knew exactly how the rest of her suggestions would go down. “Supermarkets are always…”

  “No supermarkets. Horrible work. I’m not serving anyone, either.”

  “Dad!”

  “I need to be able to provide a better life for you, moja córka. These jobs are not good enough.”

  “And what happened last time you tried to get us a better life, Dad?” Marta said, seething anger filling her. “You ended up in prison and I ended up in care. Do you really think I wanted designer clothes and expensive toys more than I wanted to have you around? And I’ve grown up. I don’t need you to ‘provide’ for me. I’m providing for you. I paid for the taxi to pick you up. I paid for the deposit and the first three months rent on the room I found for you. I’m putting money in your account so you can buy yourself new clothes and food while you job hunt. I’m not a little girl who needs her Daddy any more. You missed all that because you thought it was a better choice to rob a jewellery store than work a nine to five. You need me. So quit with this arrogant bullshit and be grateful for the opportunities that you’ve got.”

  “Are we getting lunch now?” he asked as they left the Job Centre. He either had an optimistic streak, or an inability to accept that consequences would happen to him, despite much evidence to the contrary. Either way, it was exactly that attitude that landed him in prison. Both times. Marta was in no mood for it now.

  “I don’t think so, Dad. We’re going to your house share, then I’m going home. You can make your own way to the translator clinic - or not. I’m not going to argue with you about it.”

  He gave her a hurt look, like he couldn’t understand why she was being so short with him. Marta tried not to scowl as she steered him towards the Underground.

  Two of the other residents in his house share were home when they arrived, and he quickly hit it off with them, that old Piotr Kowalczyk charm resurfacing at the sight of new victims. Marta handed him the second hand smart phone she’d picked up for him and showed him the refurbished laptop she’d pulled together out of parts so he could fill in online applications. She reminded him to get at few applications submitted and not to spend his money at the pub, then got out of there before she gave in to the urge to punch him.

  She treated herself to a taxi home. She’d spent a small fortune recently, getting her father set up, but she figured she’d earned the taxi ride. Cool air conditioning flowed over her skin, bringing her temper down with her temperature.

  At home, she headed straight for her computer room, grabbing her comm from the bedside cabinet as she’d passed. She left it at home, figuring it was one less thing for her father to process all at once if she didn’t go in to the details of her connection to the Intergalactic Community. She checked it as she sat down, finding a message from Asha to say that they’d arrived and asking after her father.

  Just dropped him off at his new place. Day has been about as disastrous as predicted. Ready to ask prison to keep him. Is the Olympia amazing? X x

  Marta thought she understood something about physics and signals and how the further away you got from Earth, the greater the signal delay was. But apparently the Intergalactic Community had found ways round this, for though Asha was hanging out near Saturn right now, her reply came only moments later.

  Currently trying on dresses for the Opening Ceremony later. The ‘highly recommended’ shop suggested this…

  Marta laughed at the picture of Asha in some pink monstrosity, even as her chest ached, wishing she could be there with her. Cael had invited Marta - much to his head of security’s dismay - and it wouldn’t have even cost her anything. Free room, free transport. She only had to cover spending money. And she had to turn it down. Her father’s apparent lack of gratitude only made it sting worse.

  It’s disgusting. Please buy it. Miss you x

  Asha’s response came through in seconds.

  No chance! Miss you too xx

  Mouse yowled, leaping up from the floor on to her desk.
Marta scratched behind her ears until she started rumbling in that contented cat way, and settled down to snooze.

  “At least I’ve still got you for company,” Marta said, giving her one final scratch before turning her attention to her computer.

  She’d been working round the clock to earn all the extra cash she’d needed to get her father set up. And after the amount she’d dropped on taxis today, she needed to make sure the money kept coming in. She loaded up the Forum first, scanning through the job postings. Though the majority of the Forum users were like Marta - mostly sticking to the legal side of the spectrum - the admins didn’t police it further than banning users who didn’t pay up. So the jobs available always ranged from legitimate to questionable to flat-out illegal. Marta dabbled in the ‘questionable’ from time to time, but her reputation on the Forum, and with the clients she had worked with, was such that she got most of the legal work she applied for now. The more established she got, it became less and less necessary to get her hands dirty.

  And if the clients were smart, the legal work paid really well. Sure, the illegal jobs always paid more, but Marta’s desire for wealth was very much outweighed by her desire not to go to prison. She could live comfortably in her tiny basement flat. If she ever found herself wanting for more, she only had to think of her father.

  As she scrolled through the job listings, highlighting ones to apply for as she went, a message popped up in the corner of her screen.

  Disquord: how did it go today?

  Marta smiled. She had no idea who he really was - or, truthfully, if he was even a ‘he’ - but Disquord was one of her oldest friends on the Forum. He had taken her under his wing when she’d first signed up, fresh from losing her Dad for the second time, and full of rage at just about everything. Back then, she might have got into the darker side of hacking work, but Disquord had kept her straight until she’d been old enough, and calm enough, to not make stupid decisions.