Chapter One

Chapter One

BaOBy

BaOBy lay on his stomach. He was on the roof—hidden among the plants in the owner's rooftop garden—watching the building across the street.

He'd been up here for hours. Days really. Any moment he could spare, he crawled onto the roof to keep an eye on her. He'd seen enough to know she was in trouble, but not what that trouble was or how to help. Bao wasn't even sure what she looked like other than she had blonde hair and graceful movements, but that didn't matter.

He was lucky several of the nearby plants were tall enough to block the sun. It didn't get too hot when he was up here. But it was monotonous. He didn't know why he kept coming back.

That was a lie. He knew why he was here. And he wasn't happy with the answer.

BaOBy turned onto his back and closed his eyes. He was tired. When he wasn't here, watching over her, he was following the Andaran. With the help of his brothers, he'd figured out that this man was in charge of the planet. Ruling as if he were a king or an emperor. Anything the Andaran said became law.

That was new. Bao figured the last time they stopped on Viant was about six years ago. At that time, the planet was governed by committee. That was how most planets within the Galactic Alliance were regulated. Lots of checks and balances and group votes. The Father had a high-level position in Galactic politics. But he didn't agree with some of their policies, so he created the Band of Brothers to… interfere when things went bad. To right the wrongs. He was pretty sure the Father would think this was wrong.

At some point, everything had changed on Viant. Bao could see the differences, and they weren't good. Gone were the cheerful smiles and the feeling that people were doing exactly what they wanted to do. Viant had once been prosperous and free. It wasn't anymore.

What BaOBy saw from his perch on the roof or when he walked the streets at night—was misery. No one was happy or healthy. They weren't doing what they wanted, but what they were told. The Andaran drugged the very air they breathed to keep everyone compliant. Besides misery and the drugged stupor throughout the city, there was an undercoating of fear.

Bao didn't like what he saw, what he heard, or what he felt. This was all wrong.

As the first of twenty cloned brothers, he had the most patience. He could sit up here for as long as it took to figure things out or follow the Andaran for a year to get answers. Something told him it was important. So, he'd sent the DoMicile into space without him. Kept just a few of the brothers with him because of their specialties. Now Bao waited—and watched.

When the Father created him, he infused BaOBy's soul with a touch of every psychic ability and magical essence known. The Father soon realized this overloaded his senses and made him flawed.

All the BoBs looked the same, with two exceptions—the tattoo on their right arm and the color of their skin. They were humanoid with the addition of other species' DNA that was intended to make them stronger… smarter… in many ways—magical. After overloading Bao's psyche, the Father gave each brother a restricted mix of abilities and strengthened the emotional resilience in the later models. Each of his nineteen brothers received only one major ability and a few minor ones. He had them all.

Yet each of them had what Earther mythology referred to as an Achilles heel. It was different in each one, but they all had something that would sap their strength—that made them weak. Weakness could be fatal if not controlled.

Because the Father created Bao first, he had many weaknesses. But his major failing was the inability to walk away from injustice. And everywhere he looked on Viant, someone was being held against their will or being forced to do something they didn't want to do. He couldn't save everybody unless he took out the primary source of this misery.

Which meant he didn't have time to concentrate his efforts on the house across the road.

But because the Father engineered BaOBy with ALL the master abilities, he could do a little of everything. He saw their future if he didn't help. He felt every violation of their bodies—and every death—as if it were his own. What he struggled with at the moment was seeing what he could do to change their future.

He was getting a headache. If he didn't stop running scenarios in his head, his nose would bleed. He knew he was more emotional than the others. All this misery… hurt him. Bao was also more dependent on routine than his brothers. He was more fragile than all of them. Sighing, he shifted his body, trying to get more comfortable. Something was digging into his upper back.

Bao took a deep breath. The overly sweet scent of the Viant Violeta reminded him that the Andaran drugged the air. While he had some natural immunity, it was obvious it wasn't enough. Bao sent a mental call out to his brothers. Warning them all about how the scent made him doubt himself. He asked that they search the hover for re-breathers or find something in the markets they could adapt to filter the air. It seemed the longer they were on this planet, the more the scent affected them.

He needed to refocus. To forcefully push away his faults and remember what made him strong. They definitely needed air filtration.

He thought about the one thing he was most proud of—captaining their ship. The DoMicile was not just their home—it was their livelihood. Bao enjoyed managing the ship, the men, and the jobs they took. Homesickness overwhelmed him. He missed his ship and his brothers. Along the mental connection that tied them all together, he knew ReBOrB was worried about the woman he'd gone to rescue. Time had runout, and they planned to escape tonight. But Reb was concerned she hadn't recuperated enough. Even though she'd been in the Viant Health Center for many days.

It was the same number of days he'd been on this roof. Bao reinforced his belief that Reb would figure it out. He wouldn't allow the damn drug to take him down.

At the rustle of fabric, Bao's eyes snapped open. He resisted the urge to sit up, trying to pinpoint the intruder's location. His body trembled—his mating marks itched.

"I thought you were a prisoner," he whispered. Bao couldn't resist taking a deep breath, this time seeking the scent of his mate.

Catalina

She'd been a prisoner on this planet for years. Some of those years hadn't been bad. Catalina had done the work she loved and been treated well. Not great. But she hadn't been beaten. Or raped.

In the beginning, they gave her food to eat and a private, tiny room of her own. Her first owner listened when she told him she had trouble sleeping at night. Suggesting that if he gave her a room with a bed, a lamp, and a desk—she could work when she couldn't sleep.

When her old master was forced to give her to the Andaran, her preference for working late into the night was seen as a benefit. So, nothing changed but the man holding her captive and the location of her room.

The Andaran gave her the title of assistant, but she was his slave. Cat started working for him before he came into power. Before he systematically destroyed the fifteen men who made up Viant's Ruling Committee.

Some men he killed, some he threatened with imminent slaughter and used her gifts to ruin them financially. Five he left alive to be his puppets. As long as they did everything the Andaran asked them to do—keeping the Galactic Alliance from realizing the planet was no longer under committee rule—he allowed them to live in the manner they'd become accustomed to.

Outsiders and travelers to Viant didn't see the dark side. They believed everything went on the same as it had for hundreds of years. And if they noticed something… off? Well, the air was perfumed with Violeta, keeping everyone aroused and mildly sedated. So, no one complained.

The slavery ring was well-hidden. And any who discovered the truth—believed the implantation of killer embryos to be wild speculation. No one would ever do something so evil… right?

Cat had been ‘gifted' a re-breather. So, the perfumed air didn't affect her. The Andaran wanted her to have a clear head when she managed his money. That was the only mistake the big-headed creep made with her. She didn't serve him willingly, and when he could no longer force her compliance with threats, he realized he miscalculated.

Catalina knew where all the bodies were buried—literally. She also knew where each and every monetary stash was located. And just how the Andaran kept the Galactic Alliance away from Viant so they wouldn't discover he'd taken over the planet.

When the Andaran finally realized just how much she knew… he sentenced her to death.

But first, he wanted to ensure she suffered along the way, before dying in the most violent and vile way possible. It was a win-win for him. He'd make a shit ton of money, torture her for many months with the knowledge of how she'd die, and eventually… when that day came, he'd get rid of the one person who knew everything about him.

Her days were numbered, and time was running out. Cat fully understood that she was going to die. She told herself that she made peace with that. But before she died, she planned to ruin the Andaran. To get him killed or arrested for his crimes against humanity. No . He had to die. The Andaran had too many mind-bending skills for anyone to arrest him. He'd end up talking his way out and disappearing. The man needed to die.

Cat didn't know how she would accomplish that—until she noticed she was being watched.

Not by any of the guards who were supposed to watch her. Not by the Andaran super-spies—she could spot the SS a mile away.

But by a tall, muscular, green-skinned male. She'd never seen green skin like that. It was a deep, rich, forest green. So vibrant and… amazing . She could stare at him for hours and so far all she'd been able to make out was the color of his skin and that he had long, dark brown hair.

That was it—she was a fan.

Cat had either seen or felt him watching her for the last five nights in a row. He always positioned himself in the garden on the roof across the street. Sometimes he stayed there all night, other times he was only there for a few minutes before disappearing. She knew he could see right through the living room windows. He often watched when she was in the room. The guards allowed her to open the curtains during the day and sit in the sunshine.

She willed him to stay in place tonight. To nap—spy—whatever kept him on that roof. She didn't care.

Dressing carefully, Cat waited for the guard to change. She had a plan. It just required a small army to see it through. In the last three months, there hadn't been a blip in her security or any change in routine. She wanted to take down the Andaran, but she couldn't do it alone. This green man had been the only anomaly in months of consistency.

She had to take this chance. It might be the only one she had.

The multi-colored Viant robe hid her body. With the hood up, she was completely covered. These colored robes denoted nobility and could only be worn by the ruling class. No one would stop her and risk banishment.

Some of the Andaran's policies worked against him. He didn't believe anyone would dare challenge his laws. Not even one as stupid as who could wear what color of robe.

He was wrong. The robes hid a multitude of sins.

Slipping out the window and across the street, it took only moments to climb the outside stairs. Cat held her breath, hoping he'd still be there.

"I thought you were a prisoner." The deep-voiced whisper thrilled her.

Thank God he was still here.