An excerpt from HAWK, by Susan Grant. (Copyright May 2020)
Chapter 1
Major “Hawk” Hakkim was ready to end the misery. His long legs had grown stiff, and he yearned to stand and stretch. The interstellar transport’s seats were meant for shorter trips—and shorter humans.
Sky warriors weren’t meant to travel crammed into passenger cabins. He’d rather be piloting one of the six Raptor starfighters stowed in the cargo hold, adapted for his team’s assignment to the Galactic Top Gun school on Earth. But he’d repeat the slog across the galaxy a hundred times to ensure the future of his people.
The most prized warcraft on Sky’s End, their incredible Dragon ships, were eons old, the legacy of a mysterious, more technologically advanced past. The Dragons were a symbol of his people, the reason for their pride, their self-sufficiency, their uniqueness in the galaxy.
The first time Hawk glimpsed one of the warships, as a preschooler in the arms of his father, was seared in his memory: “Son, someday you too will take to the stars in these magnificent machines. You’ll join your mother and me in doing so, and you’ll claim your place in the long silver line of our ancestors.
Flying Dragons was his birthright.
He could hunger to sit at the controls of one all he wanted, but the ships were too complicated for even experienced, fully bioengineered Solos like him to master. Dragons needed two pilots to fly them, a bonded pair—Sky Mates. But matches had become rare. Scientists blamed the crisis on something called genetic drift. There would be fewer and fewer compatible pairings until they ceased altogether. The Dragons would become obsolete, and they’d then be dependent on other worlds for their defense. Would sky warriors become obsolete next?
Hawk was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.
He returned his focus to the data-vis in his lap and his preparation for what was the most important mission of his life. A new message had come in from Captain Ritz, his Terran liaison for Project: Sky Mates.
Captain Ritz, K: Great news! Everything is all set for your arrival. I’ve arranged for your quarters on base, and your clearances came through.
His grim expression eased. For many weeks, he’d been in contact with Kelly, hashing out the details of Project: Sky Mates. Communicating with her had become a favorite part of his day, and he checked for her messages even when they weren’t due.
In the top corner of the communications window was her official Space Forces headshot: a glimpse of brown hair brushed away from a pretty face, wide-set, dark brown eyes looking back at him with a frank, almost daring regard. A corner of her mouth dug into her cheek—a hint of an irreverent grin? He didn’t know how tall she was, how short, whether she was plump or lean, her voice soft or strident. Not that it mattered. He felt something in their interactions that energized him. A connection.
To a sky warrior, synergy was everything.
She wasn’t mated according to her official file. He wondered why not. She was a warrior on her world, a fighter pilot instructor teaching at the top gun school. Her qualifications were impressive.
She’ll make someone a fine Sky Mate.
The thought of her being paired went through his mind and generated a hot flicker of possessiveness, an emotion he had no right feeling. DNA testing showed no match existed for him on Earth. Wishful thinking wouldn’t change that. Captain Ritz could be a colleague, an ally, and he hoped a friend, but no more.
Sometimes wistfulness overtook him, and he was sorry he’d never have a mate of his own, the one who would make him whole. He’d seen firsthand how incredible such a bond could be from watching a couple of legendary Sky Mates—his parents. Despite their high expectations that he might also be matched, it was not to be.
Still, as their eldest, he hoped to live up to their example in other ways. To fill a need inside him that he’d never quite been able to satisfy, a missing piece. So he’d focused on paving the way for younger pilots to find their matches. It had been his idea to bring a team of candidates to Earth.
There had been one successful pairing already. The couple, a Terran female and one of their sky warriors, was now in training. To everyone’s delight, it was going well.
We need more.
A rumble coursed through the ship. Hawk could tell by the vibrations that the pilots were maneuvering toward Sol System Station, their transfer point, slowing to match its rotation.
“May I?” A service attendant collected Hawk’s empty glass. Her regard lingered on him, on his eyes especially. “We’ll be docking soon,” she informed him, swallowing as she stared.
He was used to it. With genetically engineered silver hair and vivid lavender-brown eyes, powerful musculature, and a faint silvery cast to their skin, sky warriors were a rare sight outside their homeworld, let alone outside their warcraft. “The Monks of the Rim” some called them because of their planet’s remote location, their almost religious devotion to the art of flying, and their reclusiveness.
Yet when duty called, they’d answered. The Coalition would have lost many more lives if not for their intervention in the war. Still, most were unnerved by what they didn’t understand. Fortunately, the Terrans knew little of his people’s uneasy history with the rest of the Alliance, or the derogatory labels.
Hawk nodded politely, breaking eye contact, and the attendant resumed her duties. Her uniform followed her every curve as she shimmied away, to the obvious delight of the troops.
His fellow passengers didn’t seem to share his distaste of being confined to what amounted to a cage with an occasional refreshment thrown their way. They cracked jokes and flirted with the cabin attendants, clearly enjoying themselves.
Space travel when no one was shooting at you was still a treat for most. The galaxy was only two years into a peace treaty after a generations-long war between the Coalition—the government his people had aligned with—and the Drakken Empire. A newcomer, Earth, was the third component of the Triad Alliance. Protected as a shrine world, it was the backward birthplace of Crown Princess Keira’s Terran mate.
“Charmingly backward,” Hawk had briefed his team. “Be respectful. Don’t flaunt our air superiority. We’ll obey the Terrans’ customs and do our best to further their belief they’re getting more out of this arrangement than we are.”
Galactic cooperation made for a good cover story. The true purpose in coming to Earth was far more serious: a desperate, last-ditch effort to find Sky Mates.
Captain Ritz, K: I’m trying to think of enjoyable things for everyone to do when we aren’t busy flying. Anything special you would like to see while here?
He very nearly confessed how much he looked forward to exploring—exploring her companionship. Yet he must tread carefully. Sky’s End needed the Terrans on their side. He could little afford a cultural gaffe that would give the Terrans an excuse to back away from the project.
Major Hakkim, H: On behalf of my candidates, I thank you for your due diligence on the matter of seeing to our comfort. We will discuss the subject further after I arrive.
There. The ideal response—succinct and appropriate.
The cabin lights brightened, and one of the pilots announced that docking was imminent.
“Finally, eh, sir? My ass has grown roots.” Sitting in the seat across from him, Hawk’s top Solo, Falcon, wore a crooked grin. The son of Hawk’s friend the governor, he was a large man, but agile, quick to laugh, his long silver hair in tight braids, cut short on the sides of his head like Hawk’s. He fairly vibrated with energy—energy that Hawk and the other senior Solos constantly redirected to his mastery of flying skills.
“Finally,” Hawk agreed. “And well worth the pain.”
“What news does your Terran officer have for us?” Falcon motioned with his chin at the data-vis. Hawk’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head. Falcon’s endless fascination with his interaction with Captain Ritz amused him. He’d had exchanged hundreds of messages with her, maybe thousands. Somewhere along the way, their communications had started to feel more like pleasure than duty. But his Terran officer? Maybe the pleasure he took in their correspondence was more obvious than he’d thought. “She hopes to include us in some recreational activities.”
Falcon arched a dark silver brow.
“I know,” Hawk said wryly. Recreation…he was a stranger to it. They all were. How quaint Earth was.
Charmingly so. Yet Sky’s End mustn’t let their more endearing qualities trick them into letting down their guard. The Terrans hoped to gain access to their Dragon warships through this new and exclusive relationship. That wasn’t going to happen.
“How long before we’re matched? Does she have an estimate yet?” Falcon persisted. One of the rare few fortunate enough to have been matched, as a teen he’d suffered the loss of his Sky Mate-to-be before their joining could happen. A horrible tragedy. Yet despite his internal scars, Falcon was one of the best young aviators in a generation. Matched once already, it was likely he could be paired again, the medical board believed, based on centuries of data. Seeing Falcon matched was a priority at the highest levels of the government.
“Captain Ritz told me there may be several potential matches for you and the others,” Hawk said.
Falcon’s eyes lit up. The other candidates leaned closer, their ears perked like eager house-pups.
Hawk’s expression gentled as he aimed a glance at the four males and one female he’d handpicked for this mission. Unlike him, their DNA revealed a high potential of finding Sky Mates on Earth. They were his precious cargo, his world’s future, their best and brightest, seasoned combat veterans all. Like the Raptors they flew, they didn’t sport visible battle scars.
As for what lay hidden on the inside? Well, that varied from warrior to warrior. Despite being the “old man” of the group at thirty-five and despite having seen more action than most, Hawk thankfully didn’t suffer nightmares or flashbacks. Some sky warriors under his command struggled though.
Some of them were here.
The prince, for one. But Prince Narek’s trauma occurred in childhood, and he’d rallied, a source of strength and an example of resilience—and sometimes exasperation—for the tight-knit royal family, whom Sky’s End had sheltered during the war.
His only female, Ellfen, a war orphan, had impressed him since she was a wide-eyed young Rook at the academy. Her hair was longer and silkier than theirs, and her striking appearance had won her looks from the troops on board, which she ignored. She was a tough one and kept her walls high to protect what Hawk suspected was a tender heart. He had high hopes for her and the other two Solos, the twins Rigel and Rowan.
And of course there was Falcon. Despite suffering the unimaginable pain of a severing—of losing his mate—he made no secret of his longing for the connection again, more so than the rest of them who had never experienced it.
Better to have been paired and severed than to never have been paired at all, the saying went. Hawk didn’t agree, but sometimes Falcon made him wonder.
“We have little choice but to remain patient with the Terrans’ way of doing things,” Hawk said. “Captain Ritz said they’re still running tests on volunteers, narrowed down by age, health, and gender. It’s to be a carefully curated and controlled experiment. Strict protocol. No exchange of personal information until the first meeting. Only code names of letters and numbers. The initial meetings will happen under supervision.”
“Chaperones.” Falcon made a face then frowned. “Are the Terrans worried we’ll act improperly with the women?” He glanced at Ellfen. “Or men.”
“It’s new to them, the concept, so they want to be cautious.” The joining could be intense. Few outside of Sky’s End understood it. Few in the galaxy understood his people period.
A soft chirping noise interrupted their conversation. Falcon pushed upright and twisted around in his seat. A few soldiers of Drakken origin openly eyed them, making bird calls, as if daring them to respond.
“Ignore it,” Hawk warned in a low voice.
“Do you hear them taunt us? They mock our blood.”
“To react is not our way. Rise above it, Falcon. You’re a sky warrior.” Hawk wanted to add that they were superior to these dirt-dwellers in every way, but thought better of it, remembering his earlier words. As a commander, he had to practice what he briefed. “Why don’t you lead our formation when we arrive at the Terran base? It’s an opportunity to display your fine aviation planning and execution skills to your future Sky Mate.”
Falcon seemed at a loss for words, for once. “You honor me with this task, sir. And I hope so—I hope my mate is there.”
As do we all.
When Hawk prepared to launch from the VIP spaceport in Cloud City, his crew chief had handed him his helmet, hand-polished so thoroughly that he could see their reflections in it. On one side was a half wing, the traditional symbol of a Solo sky warrior. The chief had bowed deeply, his eyes grave. “Sir, we’re counting on you.”
Hawk’s entire planet was counting on him to return with Sky Mates for his candidates, from the lowliest dock worker to the most orthodox of sky warriors on the Council of Elders. If he was successful, if he proved their faith in him was warranted, he’d bring renewed hope for his people and honor to his parents.
With a solid thump, the transport docked. Finally they could board their Raptors.
Voices rose in volume as the other passengers jumped up. The troops jostled each other, reaching for their carry-on bags, calling out to friends.
Hawk’s team remained in their seats. Their gazes flicked to him, their leader. He answered with a slight nod. Only then did they gather their things.
For a moment, the gravity of the moment and his mission weighed on Hawk’s shoulders. Then he strode forward and ducked through the hatch of the transport. It was time to fly to the land called Texas.
Chapter 2
Captain Kelly “Crackers” Ritz peered at the horizon with a mix of awe and nerves. Her helmet dangled from one hand as she shielded her eyes from the fierce August sun. It was noisy on the flight line at Webber Space Force Base—jet engines roaring, the West Texas afternoon wind howling—but a distant rumble stood out.
The sound was unique, not like Earth jet engines, and not like any of the alien ships she’d heard before.
It’s them. They’re here.
The delegation from Sky’s End.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through her. Their part-cyborg sky warriors were said to be the best aviators in the galaxy. They were genetically modified and bioengineered to interface with their ships. Their top warcraft were so advanced, flying them was possible only with a bonded pair, Sky Mates, who were soulmates working in tandem, tethered mentally and emotionally to each other and their ship.
Which was weird and also fascinating.
But there was a shortage of mates at home. In exchange for supplying compatible volunteers, Earth would gain access to some fancy tech no one else had.
Pretty smart move for the new kids on the galactic block. Even though they were in a group hug with a couple of advanced civilizations—AKA the Triad Alliance—Earth seemed to have no qualms about cutting a side deal with an even more technologically advanced third party. With Webber as the host, they’d rolled out the welcome mat for Sky’s End with a smile.
“And so it begins.” Captain Dee “Rainbow” Wilson, the squadron intelligence officer joined her on the apron. “Did you get your results back yet, Crackers?”
Kelly nodded. “Good news. My DNA sample failed the whatever-they-look-for test.” Now she could devote her full focus to overseeing the highly scrutinized Project: Sky Mates study.
“I’m putting you in charge, Crackers,” her commander told her last month. “Make sure these so-called sky warriors stay in line. They’ve got a bit of a reputation, but nothing you can’t handle.”
She had to “handle” it. More than that—she had to excel. Her selection as co-liaison had been a major coup. It was the perfect opportunity to prove she was ready for the squadron Assistant Director of Operations position, giving her a chance to extend her assignment at the base a few more years. Webber, Texas was home. Even after living all over the world, she’d never stopped feeling that way. Her roots were here, and Dad was buried here. Her best memories were from here too—from before everything changed, from before she went from being the center of a couple’s life to a third wheel. She didn’t want to leave, not yet. The ADO position would allow her to extend her assignment at the base a few more years.
“You didn’t want to be part of the study?” Dee sounded shocked. “Being Sky Mates sounds like a dream.”
“I don’t need help flying.”
“It’s more than being flying partners.”
Kelly scrunched up her face. “I definitely don’t need help with men.”
Dee threw her an amused, sideways glance. “True enough.”
Kelly laughed. “I mean, I’d love a chance to fly one of their secret spacecraft, but you have to pair up—for life. No thanks.”
When it came to relationships, she’d learned her lesson. You didn’t have to tell her not to touch a hot stove twice. Okay, not three times. A person had to figure out what they were good at, and focus on that. “Long term never works for me.”
Work worked for her. She loved her job more than anything. At least that was what her last serious boyfriend had told her before he broke off their engagement, accusing her of being more passionate about flying than him. Which was true.
Easy fix: Keep things casual. When the good times waned, she gracefully bowed out.
As a Sky Mate, she’d be a total fail.
She turned to Dee. “Major Hakkim isn’t genetically viable, either. He strikes me as an honorable person, putting the needs of his people first.” Driven to find matches for others when his own chances were nonexistent. “I respect him for it.”
On his world, to reach the highest rungs of success and influence, you needed to be part of a Sky Mate pair, the people who could fly the secret Dragon ships. Even where you lived was based on whether you were a Sky Mate or not. His was a caste-based society. Yet here he was, helping five officers navigate through a process he himself couldn’t attempt.
She’d always been a sucker for an altruistic man. It explained her stupid crush on Hawk.
Which she’d never reveal.
Ever.
She kept her tone light. “So neither of us have a horse in the race. Zero conflicts of interest, zero distractions.” Their goals were crystal clear: he wanted mates; she wanted to remain at Webber. Together, they could achieve both. “All we have to do is make sure his candidates show up for their tests and training, and”—she crossed her fingers—“get matched. Piece of cake! As a bonus, I’ll see that they have a nice time while they’re here. What about you, Rainbow? Haven’t you gotten swabbed yet?”
The color drained from Dee’s face. Freckles appeared like summer stars. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You don’t have to be a pilot to submit your DNA.”
“I mean, I’d have to learn to fly.” Dee pressed her hand against her stomach. “The thought alone makes me want to puke. It’s why I’m in intel, not aviation.” Yet a look of longing crossed her face as she searched the sky.
“Could be you’re just smart,” Kelly teased her gently. “You respect your survival instinct.” Sometimes, Kelly wondered if she lacked one. Before the aliens had come, when they still had intra-Earth wars, she’d flown in combat. She’d volunteered for the most dangerous missions, pushing every boundary—personally and professionally—but nothing changed. She came home with a box of air medals and the same unexplained empty place inside her she’d been trying her whole life to fill. Now that she was older, living on the edge didn’t have the same appeal, not if she wanted to be taken seriously.
The rumble was louder now; the vibration echoed in her chest. Kelly gasped as six drop-dead gorgeous starfighters appeared over the mountains. They soared down to the valley floor in a tight, diamond-shaped formation—dark grey and lavender, delta-shaped ships, white contrails streaming behind them, not a wingtip out of place.
Not more than a few hundred, tree-skimming feet off the deck.
Her smile evaporated. Holy fuck.
Was this some kind of stunt?
Kelly wracked her brain, trying to recall her last conversation with Hawk. As always, he was reserved and a little socially awkward—okay, a lot socially awkward—taking courtesy to the extreme. “I thank you for your due diligence on the matter of seeing to our comfort.” Seeing to his comfort? Come on, how could she not smile at that? Especially with his somber, smokin’ hot headshot staring her in the face. But he hadn’t strayed off topic, and he definitely hadn’t revealed his plans for a splashy grand entrance. Yet here he was, leading a six-ship formation to the base at a dazzling speed, and at an altitude too low to think about.
“Jiminy,” Dee said, a hint of worry in her tone. That the intel officer used expressions like “Jiminy,” was comic gold, especially during briefings, but Kelly was in no mood to grin. She could picture her commander’s reaction already.
A stickler for rules, Lt. Colonel Mike “M&M” Miller was going to be furious. When it came to the sky warriors, he’d asked only one thing of her: “Keep them in line”.
Things were not off to a good start.
The starfighters streaked across the scenic valley toward downtown Webber. Kelly bit back a groan. This wasn’t tornado country, but she hoped everyone in the quirky little town had nailed down their roof shingles. Anything loose was in danger of being blown off. After giving the town what was surely an eyeful, the sky warriors banked toward the base.
If they planned to land, it sure didn’t look like it. They were closing fast, clouds of dust billowing in their wake.
Hawk, tell me you’re not planning to buzz the tower.
Several air traffic controllers were visible behind the glass. One of them looked to be shouting into a hand mic as he waved his arm. Whatever the controller was saying, it seemed to have no effect on the starfighters. A collective shout rose up as people scattered.
“Rainbow—get your head down!” Kelly warned.
At the last second, all six starships snapped into a roll, flipping belly up.
And then it was chaos—people yelling, wind gusting, everyone ducking or diving for cover as the spacecraft shrieked overhead—inverted.
Kelly peeked over her raised forearm, glimpsing a perfect formation—enviably tight, impossibly close, wing tips only a whisper apart. Upside fucking down, all six starships!
A deafening boom thundered as they passed. It echoed in her chest, pummeling her eardrums. Grit and pebbles pelted her. Glass shattered somewhere, adding to the crescendo as the alien ships soared skyward, almost vertical.
Within seconds, their glowing thrusters were as tiny as fireflies.
It was frikken’ awesome.
But ridiculous too. The starships couldn’t have cleared the control tower by more than a few feet. No controllers were in view now. She’d bet they were flat on the floor.
Hawk, are you batshit crazy? Who did he think he was—flight lead for the interstellar Thunderbirds? Maverick from Top Gun? Her heart drummed against her ribs, her hands shaking, as she dusted herself off.
Some WUGs—weapons school undergrads—of Drakken origin walked past. They stared hard at the Raptors regrouping high overhead. Body art peeked out above their flightsuit collars. All the former Imperial fighter pilots had a hard edge to them, like felons on a work-release program. Knowing the toll the war had taken on their lives, she’d never hold it against them.
They peered at the Raptors and pursed their lips. “Cheep-cheep.” A chirping noise.
“Freepin’ Birdies,” she heard them say in their native language. She was fairly fluent in the Queen’s tongue by now, a job requirement for being part of a galactic alliance, but birdies? She frowned. The comment struck her as a slur. But she wasn’t proficient enough in QT to understand the context.
“Crackers!” M&M bellowed as he barreled toward her.
She straightened, preparing for the worst, and kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to make excuses. It always made things worse.
Her commander yanked the soggy tip of his unlit cigar from between his lips. “What was that? What just happened?”
She stood at attention. “My clue bag is empty, sir. Major Hakkim said nothing about this.”
M&M’s scowl deepened. “I’m responsible for the safety and welfare of the aviators at Top Gun School. All the aviators, alien or ours. I do not tolerate hotdogging—”
A loud, musical crash interrupted him. A window in the squadron building fell to the sidewalk in a waterfall of glass.
Kelly winced, and M&M swung his glare back to her.
“I’ll talk to Hawk,” she said. “We’ll establish parameters.”
“Let me be clear—the parameters will be the same for them as they are for everyone else. The same rules. I don’t care how bad the goons in the Pentagon want their hands on that fancy hardware, the reputation of Galactic Top Gun school is on the line.”
“There won’t be a repeat of today, sir.” She’d see to that.
From behind them, a familiar rumble grew louder. A crowd of onlookers applauded and whistled. The sky warriors circled the base in their Raptors and lined up for an approach. One by one, the sleek ships touched down on the runway, the landings flawless.
Kelly almost sighed. What I wouldn’t do to get behind the controls of one of those babies.
Watching the landings, M&M grunted as if in admiration then jammed his cigar in his mouth. “I’ll hold you to your word, Crackers,” he grumbled and stormed back to his office.
Glad to be out of the line of fire, she exhaled. “That’s what I get for thinking this assignment would be a piece of cake.”
Dee reached for Kelly’s helmet. “Go on. Talk to Major Hakkim. I’ll stow this for you. You might need both hands free.”
“Why? So I can strangle him?”
“As the intel officer, I can only suggest tactical options,” Dee answered with a sly grin.
Kelly let Dee take her helmet. Then she pivoted on her heel, and strode away. It was time to meet her co-liaison—and get him straightened out. Her ass was on the line—and her dream job—if she didn’t…
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