Lord of the fire lands a.., p.1
Once Upon A Valiant Crew (Alpha Red Series Book 5), page 1
ONCE UPON A VALIANT
CREW
Book V
The Alpha Red Series
N.D. SHAR
Copyright © 2026 Natalie Debrabandere-N.D. SHAR
All rights reserved.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published or without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
ISBN: 9798267774093
DEDICATION
FOR ALL OF YOU, RED AND STELLA FANS, WHO’VE BEEN DYING TO SEE WHAT ANTALOSIAN TRAINING IS LIKE.
THINK YOU COULD DO IT?
ENJOY!
X
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To all my readers:
Thank you for reading and reviewing in all the good places. Your support helps spread the word about my work, allowing me to continue writing and living my passion.
I appreciate you greatly!
CHAPTER 1
My heart is racing. Morale is high! It’s been a while since I felt this kind of thrill, and I love it.
Akkar, the rogue warrior who attempted to kill me a few times, has gone to ground. And at least for the time being, we’ve lost her scent. With our frigate, the Storm Dancer, in dry dock for repairs and upgrades, I had a few options. I could have gone back to Earth to explore more of my gorgeous planet in the 23rd century, or surf on lush, tropical Mars, enjoying the beach and a cheeky cocktail. Why not? When you’ve flirted with death as much as I have in my life, you can be forgiven for wanting to take your pedal off the gas. But hey, this is me. When allowed, finally, to be the first Human to complete the hardest military training in the galaxy, I wasn’t going to say no.
So here I am, back on Antalos, registering with a new intake of hopeful warriors. Until recently, they used to hold a separate training for non-Antalosian natives. It was held once a year, by special invitation, for some of the best soldiers, handpicked from all nations of the Galactic Alliance. Stella, the chief instructor and the leader of the Antalosian forces, has now decided that those who wish to test themselves must integrate into a regular troop of Antalosian trainees. I wasn’t consulted, but yeah, I think that’s great.
Since meeting Stella and learning about their legendary rite of passage, I have been begging and pleading with her to let me take part. I know she found my begging entertaining, and the answer was always no. I was also never quite sure she believed I had what it took until one night in her cabin, not long ago, when she brought up the topic.
“So. Still foolish enough to think you could ace the course, Bambi?”
I was naked, hot, and flushed from the kind of brutal sexual interlude we both enjoy. Stella doesn’t offer cuddles after sex, so I was slowly grounding back into my skin with a tub of peanut butter: crunchy, premium quality, made on Earth. Thinking she was teasing again, I barely stopped sucking the gooey substance off my finger to answer.
“Sure thing. Any time you want, babe.”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” she snarled.
I guess I didn’t obey fast enough for her liking, because she zapped the tub out of my hand with an electric charge.
“Fuck, Stella,” I grumbled.
“Answer me.”
She stood in front of the window, on a background of stars, also nude but for her glistening skin, gorgeous tribal markings, and perfect muscles. Oozing authority, strength, and the kind of ruthless arrogance that never fails to make me melt. She has the leadership skills, combat experience, and raw strength to back it all up. I knew she was the girl for me the first time she punched me in the face and licked the blood off my busted lip. Somehow, I found her sexy as hell. Still do. I am wired this way.
“I don’t think I could, I know,” I told her with a shrug.
Her amber eyes, the color of superior Irish Whiskey, flashed in suspicion. “You know how hard we make it on the trainees. You could die.”
“Could,” I conceded, grinning. “Won’t.”
She grabbed my wrist, wrapped her lips around my fingers, and worked that peanut butter off in a way that made me feel all hot and bothered again. It was nothing compared to what she said after:
“You’re on, Commander. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
◆◆◆
With a jolt of adrenaline at the memory, I try not to grin like a foolish human. Stay cool, Red.
“Commander Redfield?”
“Correct,” I answer when it is my turn to register.
The Antalosian who ticks my name off a list doesn’t smile or show emotions, but her eyes are inquisitive and sharp as she takes me in. I suppose I am an oddity in her world. No Bambi, despite Stella’s condescending ribbing, but a trained assassin in my own right.
Over the years, as a unit Commander in the Navy Special Forces, I turned my 5’7” frame into a strong and flexible body. Since landing in this world and getting myself shot a few times, blown up, and even ejected from a burning spaceship once, I have acquired a synthetic shoulder, arm, and knee joint. Never thought I’d become a cyborg, but here we are! My name is Storm Redfield—Red for friends. Some think that’s short for my last name, while others believe it’s because I have enemy blood on my hands. I rarely feel the need to clarify for people, but the truth is that when I was two years old, I figured out a way to climb onto the kitchen table, where my mother had left a freshly made cherry pie. I licked off the red topping and rubbed it all over my face. Earned my new name on the spot, and it’s proved enduring.
My mom died when I was young, and I joined the Navy at 17 after my father also passed away, by forging his signature on the papers. I was born to be a soldier and rose quickly through the ranks. Sadly, my career ended abruptly in 2086 when I was involuntarily placed into sleep stasis as part of an illegal research program called Project Eternity. I was brought back in 2217, and I discovered that I’d slumbered through a nuclear World War and that Humans were no longer alone in the universe. Life has been rough at times since then, and I’m not just talking about kinky sex with the great Stella. No worries, though. I’m still here and not going anywhere. I hit hard when required and move fast when the situation demands it. I can hold my own in hand-to-hand combat with Stella or Tali, her second-in-command, and excel with all kinds of weapons, especially naked blades, which don’t require ammo; just fearlessness, instinct, and skills. Plenty in this world have underestimated me and lived, sometimes just a few more painful seconds, to regret it.
The Antalosian lingers briefly on my face markings, also a new addition from this world, following a life-saving transfusion from Stella. Antalosian blood fires in my veins. That, and saving Earth from an invasion of world-destroying aliens, has brought me fame and garnered me admirers in shady corners of the dark web. I’ve been told that people, and beings of all races, speculate on where else the markings may appear on my body. Only Stella is privy to that information, and only she knows how sensitive the ones around my nipples are.
“You need to get rid of that,” the Antalosian says. “Don’t want to risk it catching fire during an evolution.”
“That?”
“Your hair, Human.”
“Ah. Okay.” I shrug, though the mention of hair catching fire hints at unpleasant things to come.
When I first learned that the attrition rate on this training was 60%, I laughed. In my time, ours was more like 85%. Now I know that 60% refers to the trainees’ death rate.
“See that it’s done before we start.”
I open my mouth to ask if they have a barber on base, but I realize it would be a stupid question. Antalosians do not have a single hair on their bodies. With black-as-night skin, blood red markings, and all shades of amber eyes, they are gorgeous, and deadly, creatures—natural-born killers. On Antalos, the warrior class elite tends to be all female. This one is, and her penetrating gaze activates a very primal response in me. My skin prickles. Some, like her, have not been exposed to the diversity of races that form the Galactic Alliance, and I can feel it. She hasn’t yet learned to tone down her essence. It is prime Antalosian, undiluted, raw, and triggers my neuroceptive threat response. Not just instinct, faster than thought and emotion, and beyond the reptilian-level limbic reaction, it’s the sort of pre-conscious threat assessment that signals to me that this being is entirely other. I am indeed a long way from home.
To stop a shiver running down my spine, I run my fingers through my hair. Jet-black, always messy, even when I try to look presentable, it’s been the last thing on my mind in recent times. As a result, it's grown long, sticks out in all directions, and I suppose I look more like I spent three years in the jungle than like a squared-away soldier.
“Elemtex armor is not allowed on training,” the Antalosian adds, and hands me a bundle of clothes. “You will wear this.”
“Roger that.”
“And that thing around your neck. Give it to me.”
Ah, damn! I am sharply reluctant to the thought of letting go of my Navy dog tags. One is chipped, a souvenir of a stray bullet that hit me in the chest during an op. The tags are my only link to my world and the woman I once was. Just a piece of steel, I know... but when you’ve los t everything, your last remaining talisman matters. Never mind. I remove the tags and hand them to the Antalosian.
“Don’t lose them.”
Her eyes narrow in reaction. Her kind aren’t used to taking orders from other species, especially Humans. But as I hold her gaze, unafraid and defiant, she nods.
“Understood. Next, report to the med center, recruit.”
I didn’t know Antalosians could do subtle, but that’s a good reminder of my current status here. I’d better get my head in the game, shut up, and do as I’m told. My friend, Dr. Fox, a fully autonomous AI who feels more human than most and has a secret passion for steamy cowboys novels, will not be there to make the experience more palatable, and I certainly am no fan of being assessed and prodded. Still, it’s part of the game, and not that bad in the end, as I happen to know the medical officer on duty.
“Ah, Commander Redfield!” He greets me with a beaming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
“Esyon.” I shake the hand he offers. “Good to see you too.”
“You remember me!”
“Of course.”
He’s the one who patched me up after Akkar cracked my jaw out of alignment and attempted to slice my throat on my first visit to the training center. It was my first time on Antalos as well, and Esyon told me I was the first Human he had the honor to treat. Antalosian society is divided into three main classes: Warriors, Makers, including engineers, scientists, and creatives; and Nurturers, such as healers, who are natural-born caregivers and make excellent medics. Unlike the previous Antalosian, he radiates genuine warmth and compassion.
“Please, undress,” he instructs, “and step through the body scanner.”
I strip off. Thankfully, it’s a quick affair. The scan confirms I am fit enough to participate in the training, and Esyon remarks on my resting heart rate.
“Hey, 37 bpm. Not bad for a Human.”
I’ve lost track of the number of times someone has said that to me in this world, especially Stella, who thinks being born in a Human body is the worst thing that could happen to a person. But where she drips sarcasm, he’s respectful.
“Thanks. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have clippers here, by any chance, would you?”
“No, I don’t… Why?”
Esyon looks intrigued, so I explain that I need to lose the hair. And although clippers are not part of his arsenal, he pulls out a little bone saw from a drawer and volunteers to do the job for me.
“This is going to sound odd,” he adds, “but do you mind if I have a feel? I have no experience with Human hair.”
Antalosians don’t blush, but he looks sheepish.
“Knock yourself out,” I invite.
Stella has a thing for hair, too. Once upon a time, Antalosian warriors scalped their victims, but now things have changed. She loves playing with my hair, washing it, running her fingers through it, or grabbing a fistful to keep me in place when she delivers a brutal kiss. I’ll miss that experience. Oh, well. Sex with my favorite Antalosian is off the menu for the next few weeks anyway. I walk out of the med center with a proper buzz cut, wearing my Antalosian fatigues, feeling energized and excited for what I anticipate will be a sufferfest of biblical proportions. But I have waited long enough for this, and at this point, only one thing is on my mind: BRING IT ON!
CHAPTER 2
And so, we wait.
At first glance, it looks like approximately one hundred soldiers are gathered out here on the grinder. It’s open ground, a football-field-sized rectangular area located at the rear of the training center. Toward the east is a deep forest of spruce and fir. Beyond that, higher grounds and snowy mountain peaks. We’re close enough to the ocean that I can hear the surf crashing on the beach. There will be no surfing or margaritas after sunset here, though, and I try and fail not to grin. Even knowing I am about to be pounded into shape by ruthless Antalosian instructors, I can’t help it. I love this stuff. Up above, the sky seems to have received the memo for this day as well: thick clouds, the color of fresh bruises, threaten rain or maybe snow. It certainly feels cold enough for that. I feel fine at the moment, but I notice that the atmosphere is tense and subdued. We all know this is the calm before the storm.
“Hi, how’re you doing?” I return a tall Akihanee’s greeting as he comes to sit near me.
Two others join us, followed by three Elusyans. I’m the only Human on this intake. I spot a lone Torq in the middle of a sea of Antalosian recruits, reminding me of my teammate, Ortan.
“Wonder why the Torq didn’t get a full body shave,” one of the Elusyans comments.
Elusyans are albinos and usually wear their silky white hair long, down to the waist, but all the ones here now sport a similar look to mine. The Torq might suffer less in wintry temperatures thanks to the thick layer of grey fur covering his muscular body, but it’ll take him longer to dry in thoroughly wet conditions. Not that it matters anyway. The instructors will find a way to make everyone suffer equally, regardless of their planet of origin and physiological characteristics. The Torq ambles over and shoots me a roguish grin.
“Commander Redfield, fancy meeting you here. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I give him my regular comeback. “Sorry about that.”
He lets out a gravelly laugh and smacks me on the shoulder as if we’ve known each other forever. “It’s all good. Ortan says you kick ass.”
“I try not to suck. You know Ortan?”
“Yeah, we were in the same infantry unit during a tour of the Badlands some years ago.”
“Good stuff. Call me Red.”
“Red,” he nods. “My name’s Tharn.”
As a cold, ultra-fine rain settles on my bare arms like dew, I notice that one of the Elusyans is already shivering. Not a good start for him, and since I’d go over and ask if he were one of my Navy guys, I don’t hesitate to do it now, also.
“Hey, are you okay?”
His large blue eyes sparkle with a smile, reminding me of my young Elusyan friend, Nerys.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll adjust.”
“Okay, good to hear.”
“How are you doing, Commander?”
“Call me Red. And I’m fine, thanks.”
I exchange a few words with the others, the usual chit chat before all hell breaks loose. After a while, everyone retreats into their own thoughts. The Antalosians are meditating. It’s a thing with the warriors. Whenever Stella isn’t crushing enemy bones, training for it, directing our crew, or delivering mind-shattering orgasms to yours truly, she dives inward too. I suppose it’s a good idea to avoid expanding nervous energy by trying to guess what will happen next, so I follow suit. Stretching out on the hard-packed ground with my hands behind my head, I forget about the rain and empty my mind. Not long after, without realizing it, I drift into sleep.
◆◆◆
The cold wakes me up some time later, as well as the feeling that the atmospherics have changed. It’s no longer raining, but pitch black, and a layer of frost covers the ground. Tharn and Vaelen, one of the Akihanee soldiers, are wide awake. A few Antalosians are doing pushups.
“Show-offs,” Tharn grumbles, catching my gaze.
“It’s all about to kick off,” I murmur, and his eyes gleam.
“Yep. You ready, Red?”
“Hell, yeah.”
The sound of blasting laser guns, screaming Howlers, and explosions drowns his laughter. Everyone ducks instinctively. It only takes me a second to realize this is just a recording played at full volume, but the four transporter jets about to land are as real as it gets, and we all scramble to get out of the way and avoid being roasted by the afterburners. I bet my heart rate is no longer a relaxed 37 bpm! This is it... Essence, as Nerys might say. The infamous Antalosian warrior training has begun, and this time I’m here for it.
‘Fuck yeah, Red! Send it!’
My best buddy, Sanchez, lives in my heart now and speaks to me sometimes. He used to refer to Stella as ‘That crazy chick’, and couldn’t understand why I wanted to stick with her in this world. But he’d appreciate this, for sure: the urge to make your mark on the toughest military training in the galaxy.
“Move it, recruits!” an instructor yells.
“Let’s go!” another screams. “Faster. FASTER!”
