Exile, p.1
Exile, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Exile
Copyright © 2017 by Aleksandr Voinov
Cover Art: Tiferet Design (www.TiferetDesign.com)
Editing: Victoria Milne (www.victoriamilne.com), Alyson Pearce (www.betweenthelinesediting.com)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact the author at vashtan@gmail.com.
First edition
June, 2017
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Exile (Doctrine Wars)
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
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
Also by Aleksandr Voinov
About the Author
Exile (Doctrine Wars)
By Aleksandr Voinov
For Tif, who somehow caused all this.
About Exile
Kyle Juenger and his lover, the Glyrinny currently known as Grimm, are home free. With Kyle’s transformation underway, they’re heading toward alien space so Kyle can meet “the family” and work out just what being a human-alien hybrid will mean. He certainly doesn’t have access to any of the promised Glyrinny powers yet.
On the way, however, they encounter a group of refugees who fled their home planet, Tamene, when the Doctrine moved in. A militaristic, collectivist power bloc, the Doctrine has been swallowing up planets and peoples in its mission to unite all of humanity in its own concept of “brotherhood.” Kyle finds it impossible to ignore that the Doctrine is about to destroy the culture of his home planet.
But when they arrive on Tamene, the Doctrine officer in charge, Arkady Kidashell, is nothing like the “Doctrine zombies” of lore. A recent convert himself, Arkady gambles for nothing less than reform and peace, and Kyle and Grimm may be about to ruin his best-laid plans and intentions ...
Exile is the sequel to Incursion and set in the Doctrine Wars universe.
Chapter 1
It was hard to not feel lonelier after the call with his family had ended. Taisia needed to turn in for an early night, and Gerasim only had a few minutes, and even those were practically stolen, as it was the last weeks of boot camp for him. Who knew who he had traded or bartered with for the privilege—back when Arkady had been in boot camp, the isolation had been complete.
And Diana, well, she almost fell asleep at the terminal, and Arkady couldn’t blame her, either. Her sister had just given birth to twins, and Diana helped by holding the whole family of twelve together. Graces alone knew how she did that. Sometimes, Arkady joked with her that she should have been the colonel, and she’d joked back that then, at least, she might get a bit of sleep.
Once the screen had turned dark, Arkady turned away, too keenly aware that it had been just a projection and nothing more.
He regarded the food tray in front of him, and even though he didn’t feel like eating, it was breakfast, and any military academy in the explored universe focused on getting soldiers to the point where they ate when necessary, not when hungry. Dutifully, he shoveled some of the food inside. It was even pretty good. His new aide, Zoya, had quickly learned his preferences, and even though she didn’t understand or share Arkady’s appetite for spicy food, she never tried to get him to compromise on it.
A large mug of tea helped to wash down the spiced rice, and then Arkady pushed the tray away, took his peaked cap, and made his way to his superior.
The briefing room wasn’t exactly crowded—there was, of course, the ship’s captain, and the ship’s head Revisionist, as well as Arkady’s aide, and they all gave each other brief nods. After all that time in space, the snappy military decorum had seriously blunted.
Once Arkady had taken his place, the much larger, much crisper screen here came alive. The background was a view over Liberty’s capital, all the white, glistening buildings and pleasant blue sky.
In the foreground, however, stood General Renata Petrunin, her usual stiff-backed posture relaxing just a bit when the connection was established.
“Sister General.” Arkady straightened in a show of military respect.
“Brother Colonel.” She nodded to him and relaxed more visibly, giving him unspoken permission to do the same. “I have new orders for you.”
His pulse sped up enough to be felt against the stiff collar of his uniform. He’d submitted his preferences three weeks ago, but this was now the period when everybody not immediately involved in combat operations was moved around. Somebody in the Committee had really thought that it was a good idea for children to finish boot camp roughly at the same time when their parents and everybody else was taking up new posts. And no bright spark had yet realized that this gigantic reshuffle of roughly half the population taxed Doctrine space infrastructure to the limit.
If he were ever to plan an invasion against his own side, this was when he’d invade—when most people had left their posts but hadn’t yet arrived at their new ones, and when the new generation of young soldiers had left the protection of their academies and were home-bound, where, once they’d arrived, they’d do nothing but sleep and eat for two weeks at least. Meanwhile, the new intake of cadets had left home and was on the way to the academies, but while the academies were armed and equipped, none of the new cadets were trained to make any use of that fact. In short, it was complete mayhem, for weeks.
Of course, there were enough combat-ready troops to protect Doctrine space, but a man had to wonder whether there might not be a better way to handle this. One more thing to work on once he’d made general.
She picked up a pad from an aide. “How’s the family?”
“Thank you. Everything’s perfectly in order.”
“I’m hearing good things about your son.”
“Thank you.” There wasn’t really much else to say. Gerasim would be a good Doctrine citizen-soldier, a useful, contributing member of society.
“Now, your orders.” She glanced at the pad and then met his gaze across the distance of many, many light years. “You applied for Cirokko, and I have no doubt we could have used a man like you there, Brother Colonel. Can I ask why that posting?”
So the request hadn’t been granted. “It’s not far away from my home world, Sister General. There are some striking similarities, and I have an interest in complex tribal cultures.”
“I thought that was a sound decision, but the Revision has still earmarked that planet’s general and higher command staff for appointment.” She kept a straight face, but the sarcastic tone carried her meaning well enough.
“I was aware that Cirokko is a more political posting.”
“It is, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to change while we’re in active service. The causa Stolkov has not yet been resolved, and there’s at least one Committee General who’s very interested in Cirokko.”
Yeah, family could be a liability, nobody had to say so. A Committee General whose near and close family had defected to the Alliance because of something that had happened on Cirokko—no wonder Revision sat on the planet and couldn’t be dislodged, regardless of how interesting the posting was. Cirokko wasn’t just interesting, of course. It was also a career-maker. A deadly, dusty capstone for anybody who dared reach for it. They didn’t call it “Fool’s Gambit” for nothing.
“That’s a pity.”
“Isn’t it just.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m sorry. The Cirokko posting would have entailed a full generalship.”
“That wasn’t my primary objective.”
“But it’s a good thought, and it couldn’t have been anybody more deserving than you. After your exemplary service, Cirokko would have been a good logical next step.”
“Yes.” He shrugged slightly. “So what’s the alternative?”
“Well. Considering this disappointment, I have something that will hopefully also pique your interest.” She took a step toward the screen. “Are you familiar with the planet of Tamene?”
He must have given away his surprise, because she smiled.
“I am, Sister General. That is, I never visited, but I did do academic work on the Tamenean Expansion.” And how long ago was that? Twenty ... no, twenty-five years. He’d labored over the military tactics and short, brutal wars of an entirely inconsequential tribal federation whose heydays were arguably long over and which clung on to just one planet out of five—Tamene itself.
“Considering your understanding of that culture, and considering that it’s time for Tamene and its population to come home into the embrace of the Doctrine, we felt that you should be
Arkady lifted his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if I should be more flattered or surprised.”
“I’m glad you accept, Brother General. This is on the understanding that, depending on the outcome, the Committee will accept your petition for retirement on any Doctrine planet you choose, of course, with a choice of civil occupations.”
Ah, there was the carrot of the carrot-and-stick ensemble. Fair enough, though. He’d always wanted to see Tamene with his own eyes, ever since immersing himself so much in its culture that he must have fallen a little in love with it. It was pity that finally seeing it also meant having to destroy it.
Chapter 2
“I see you’re feeling much more these days.” Grimm’s voice wasn’t quite even again. Normally, that godsdamned alien got over an orgasm as if it barely rattled him, but this had been a particularly intense bout of one-on-one, and Kyle was in no state to rub in that fact. He was too busy panting and getting over the aftershocks coursing through his body. And gods, but not feeling all that much for a couple months did make things more intense when he finally largely regained his body sense.
Kyle more staggered than walked to the pilot seat. He didn’t trust his legs, but for different reasons these days. Grimm seemed to know when he did need help, and the fact that he didn’t move a muscle to help after that rough and dirty fuck against the wall soothed Kyle. Instead, the alien leaned against that same wall, arms crossed, and all but laughed at him, silently.
“What can I say? You’d be able to tell the lie.” Kyle reached the pilot seat, managed to put his clothes in order, and climbed into the seat, then reached for the bottle. He popped the top and offered it to Grimm first, who lifted an eyebrow, pushed away from the wall and then sauntered over. No, prowled. It was unbelievable what Grimm could do to Kyle just by walking or looking at him like that. When he reached out he didn’t take the bottle, just brushed Kyle’s fingers holding it.
“There’s one thing about you, Kyle. One of hundreds, come to think of it.”
“And that is?”
“How, when you’re thirsty, you’ll offer another that water first.” Grimm slightly shook his head. “It’s actually quite extraordinary.” Grimm winked at him. “Come on, drink. I’m not thirsty.”
Kyle glanced at him, and then did, in fact, drink his water. He settled the bottle against his stomach and held it there with one hand. “But yeah, it’s coming back. The feeling, I mean.” He still needed the prostheses for long walks, but inside the ship he was largely free of them—because there were plenty of surfaces in this crammed space that allowed him to cheat and support his weight when his knees started shaking. But he did move them without help, and while some numbness remained, this was ten times better than he’d been.
Glyrinny stem cells did that, apparently. Grimm had told him they were colonizing, even re-building, his whole body, and technically he was already a hybrid. And since nobody in human space had ever done anything like this, the outcome was up in the air.
“You’re back to worrying about what you’ll be.” Grimm didn’t even formulate it as a question. The gloves and masks were off—Glyrinny could taste and see emotion, even thoughts. They forced themselves to speak aloud mostly because it helped them to fit in when they were using human shapes. Winter had apparently given that order at the beginning of their mission.
“Not worried, more curious.” Kyle levered himself up onto the pilot seat, which welcomed him by adjusting to his exact shape and weight distribution. It was second nature to quickly check the screens out there, but they were making good progress toward Glyrinny space. And what would await him there ...
“My people will welcome you. I’d expect there will be a transition period, of course, because we really are quite different, but by the time we arrive, we’ll have filled in some of the blanks and your body should have settled.” Grimm stepped to the side of the seat and rested a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “By that time, there will be no ‘us’ and ‘you.’ It’s all one, anyway.”
“I believe you about your people—it’s more about what’s in my own head.”
“Yeah, that’ll change, too.” Grimm leaned right into Kyle’s field of vision, forcing him to make eye contact. And every time it was a small jolt to see that warrior tattoo on Grimm’s face, those very handsome Tamenean features and knowing not only that Grimm wasn’t human, let alone Tamenean, but also that the man whose face Grimm had taken wasn’t even alive anymore.
“One day you’ll have to show me your true shape.”
Grimm laughed. “One day you’ll be able to sense it. I think sometimes you already do.”
Yes, but that was more a feeling. He was reasonably sure that he could find Grimm in any crowd, regardless of what he looked like. That said, he’d be able to identify any of the other Glyrinny, too.
So, yep, something was happening. But Glyrinny did have to have a “natural” shape, didn’t they? He didn’t expect it to be some kind of tentacled horror—though the thought had occurred, and he might prefer a human resemblance to anything else, regardless of whether he’d end up a hybrid or a full Glyrinny himself, but he did get the sense that Grimm hadn’t shown himself largely out of gentleness and compassion.
And, of course, Winter’s orders were to stay in human shape because it would reduce the chances of tripping up. That they had shifted at all to rescue Kyle from the Sector Commissar’s soldiers had been a well-calculated risk, but definitely a security breach.
Grimm came closer. “Here’s something you need to remember ... now you can be whatever or whoever you want to be. No rules, no expectations.”
“Winter did give orders about that.”
“Yes, but we’re an expeditionary force. Some protocol and procedures were agreed before we left.” Grimm straightened. “We’re volunteers.”
“And that makes me?”
“At the moment, we regard you as a member of the team.” Grimm hesitated, and then turned.
The doors swooshed open.
“I thought I’d give you a moment to cool down,” Winter said by way of greeting. Her skin was now completely green, which suited her. It was the kind of green that reminded Kyle of deepest forest at dusk. He hadn’t quite worked out whether Winter was mimicking somebody with that particular genetic modification or whether it was somehow actually real.
Grimm chuckled. “Sorry about that.”
Winter came up toward Kyle. “Let me know when this ruffian’s taking too many liberties, will you?”
Kyle laughed. “I think I’ll manage.” And yes, there was almost no privacy on the ship. The others knew without a doubt when he and Grimm had sex—closed airlocks and walls didn’t impede Glyrinny senses much, though Kyle wondered how far they could reach.
Grimm mournfully shook his head. “I’ll teach him shielding once he’s ready for it.”
Winter waved the comment off. “As long as you’re not too distracted to get us home.”
“No, that’s ...” Kyle noticed her grin, and thought it was strange that his old military instincts had kicked in immediately. He didn’t, in fact, know how their ranks and hierarchies worked—whether they worked at all like in the Space Navy. “I’ve done this before. Though admittedly, other co-pilots weren’t as ... interesting to fly with as Grimm.”
Grimm laughed. “At the very least, I’m the chief mechanic.”
Comparing this warrior-faced alien to the often neurotic, unyielding, sometimes pompous chief engineers that Kyle had encountered during his service did not compute. “Co-pilot and mechanic, then.”
Grimm scoffed. “I can taste what you did there.”
“It’s ‘see.’”
Winter didn’t roll her eyes, though Kyle thought maybe she was close. “As long as the course is set ...”
“I’d suggest one stop along the way.” Kyle tapped the navigator screen and pulled up the star map that had their course charted on it. “This is the Bell.” Its actual designation was something more dignified, but with its U-shape, it did look like a bell, and Spacers had little respect for what the brass or dirt-pounders thought stations should be called. What could be a major financial and economic achievement of a planetary society to a Spacer was just one more thing hanging in the endless darkness.
