Short Stories for Stellar Alliance and the Tuatha Series

       Lisa Ashley / Fantasy / Actions & Adventure / Science Fiction
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Lisa Ashley

The following two short stories are a treat for my readers.

I hope you enjoy delving into the life of the Corbin Masters.

Plus I wanted to give you insight into the world of the Tuatha.

Other Books
Lisa Ashley

Legacy of a Portrait
Rachel’s Release
Time and Again
An Untimely Adventure
An Unexpected Adventure
Lost Souls

Guardian Series
Out of Time
Through Time
Tuatha Guardians
Tuatha Origins

Stellar Alliance Series
Stellar Alliance – GraponXR8 – Slave colony
Stellar Alliance – Chaos Continues (in the works)
Stellar Alliance – book 3 (in the works)

Please note: The Guardian series has already been published. The others will follow as quickly as I can edit them. Please keep checking back.

Stellar Alliance – Corbin Masters
Copyright© 2017 by Lisa Ashley

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products solely of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

Other Books
Stellar Alliance
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
The Tuatha de Danann Series
Who are the Tuatha
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the author

Stellar Alliance

Corbin Masters

Chapter 1

Corbin and Braedon had equally divided their weeklong collected loot in a secluded section of an abandoned warehouse. Both were taught to never trust anyone but the division was fair. Neither would go home empty handed, or get blamed for sloughing off on their duties. Or so Corbin thought.
He trembled under his father, Gunnar Masters’, arched brow and demeaning glare. He was only ten years of age but you grew up fast in their world, the underbelly of vast universes. Especially if your last name was Masters and you were a possible heir to the cosmic empire.
Please let there be something useful, was the chant going through his head as he gulped and held back tears. He kept his fidgety fingers behind his back so not to give away his inner fear.
His uncle, Cyrus Masters, was head of the inter-stellar underground and never approved of anyone. Corbin was given the same treatment his father continually received from his brother, probably the same his grandfather gave to them.
Then there were the enforced rules in his family’s organization that no one was exempt from except their leader. Females were destined for a harsh life under Cyrus’s control. Typically the families of his uncle’s drones were groomed and put into unsavory service when old enough. No questions asked.
Boys were taught from the time they could walk and talk, on how to be a thief, or worse. Girls were put into service on their twelfth birthday. If they were pretty then they were put into the breeding program and sold. The others were forced onto the streets and into bordothels, their money going directly to Cyrus.
“Is this all you managed to get?” Corbin’s father seethed. He threw the measly pile of stolen goods across the room where they landed in a jumbled pile.
Corbin didn’t utter a sound. His words never made a difference so what was the use? He had never been good enough.
“I know you boy…you were with that brxtin river rat Braedon instead of doing what I told you to do. Your uncle will be highly disappointed yet again.”
The slap across his face was not entirely unexpected. Corbin would have crumpled to the floor had he not been firmly standing his ground. He had been with his friend, and they had played around, but his haul was a good one. Once again, just never good enough.
“If you do not think me a good thief then allow me to go to Stellar Academy.” Corbin braced himself for the next slap but it never came.
Ragna entered as if on cue and headed straight for the discarded loot. She rummaged through the pile, took a few items for herself, and tossed the rest on the desk. “What is this about some academy?” his mother derided.
Gunnar curled his lip. “Your son is shirking his duties to our family. I’m surprised you found anything worthwhile in that pile of rubbish.” He focused his sight back onto his son, “Maybe fancy talk, fancy clothes, and a pretty face will get you somewhere because your gangly, scrawny body won’t.”
Corbin smiled inwardly. His body was on the skinny side but what did his parents expect for his young age? He persuaded many of the female gender to do his bidding in getting anything he wanted with his deep, dark brown eyes, and soft, unruly black locks. How else was he to learn because his parents were too illiterate to teach him anything. His Uncle Cyrus actually preferred everyone being uneducated so he seemed smarter than the rest.
Gunnar huffed then sneered, “Go to your fancy academy but don’t come crying to me when you fail at that too.”
Corbin cringed when Cyrus entered the meeting chamber. A chill swept through his body. He waited patiently while the man took a seat in the over-sized, cushy, throne like chair. Corbin was a fast sprinter but there was nowhere to hide from his uncle. Running was not an option.
Cyrus narrowed his eyes and stared at Gunnar, moved to Ragna, then landed on Corbin. His voice boomed across the vast chamber. “What’s this I hear about an academy? No one needs schooling. Our training is learned in the here and now.”
Corbin fought the bile forming in his stomach but his weak legs barely held him upright. When his mother fawned over his uncle, her actions didn’t help his nauseousness. The smirk on Cyrus’s face sickened him. His aunt wouldn’t be far behind. He wasn’t wrong.
“Gunnar!” Rubella screeched as she stormed into the chamber. “I warned you to keep your slut of a wife away from my husband.”
“I have no control over her.” Gunnar shrugged and slunk into the closest chair. He laughed, ran his hand through his greasy hair, and sat back to enjoy the show.
Corbin took the opportunity to remove himself from the limelight. Leaving the room would have brought terrible repercussions so he found a secluded spot in which to become small and disregarded. “Always the same thing over and over,” he mumbled.
He watched his Aunt Rubella grab his mother’s long hair and haul her off the arm of the chair. Both women were equal in stature and stamina so it usually ended in a draw.
This time, however, Rubella got the better of Ragna. The show was like watching two rag dolls being tossed about. His mother didn’t play fair. With a push of a button finely honed points shot from her specially made pinky rings. When Ragna poked out one of Rubella’s eyes, gasps filled the room, but no one moved to break up the fight.
Cyrus laughed, and yelled to his brother, “Point for your wife.”
Blood rushed down Rubella’s face. She swiped it away with the back of her hand but kept on fighting. She pivoted and when she faced Ragna she held a long-bladed knife in each hand. “You’ll pay for this you brxtin bitch.”
Corbin’s muscles froze in place at those words. In this weekly ritual that his uncle promoted, their fighting was never this extreme.
There was no love lost between Corbin and his parents. In their eyes, he’d been a weakling since birth. His mother had hemorrhaged severely. His life had hung in the balance for weeks. They both survived but hate and loathing emanated from his parents at any given time. As a result of his difficult birth, she could never have more children and blamed him.
Harsh words spewed between the two women as each slashed, clawed, and bit without remorse. Engaged in personal contact fighting, they circled each other in the middle of the large chamber. Chunks of long hair, still attached to bloodied skin, littered the floor.
This was not a spectator sport he enjoyed. No ring-no rules. Corbin heard a loud thawhump. Rubella and Ragna landed on the floor rolling in each other’s blood covered bodies. Their form-fitting leather pants and sleeveless tops made it a struggle to keep track who was on top at any given time. As if each tried to one up the other.
Rubella’s knives clattered on dry spots of the blood soaked floor but were quickly retrieved.
Corbin’s stomach finally gave out and he found a corner to spew his recent lunch with Braedon from his gut. Grabbing his sides, he retched until nothing more came up. The noise of his mom and aunt fighting drowned out his disgrace.
His father and uncle felt it was manly to watch such a fight and encouraged his presence on an ongoing basis. These two women were only a few in a long line of bloody fights he’d seen in the enormous chamber.
He had nothing in the room to rinse out his mouth so wiped his shirt across his face to clean off any remaining chunks. He stumbled and plopped onto the closest chair, heard his uncle laugh, and looked to see what was so funny.
He watched in abject horror as the woman on top stood, pumped her fist into the air that held a bloody knife, and yelled, “Take that you brxtin bitch. You got what you deserved for so long.”
Corbin recognized his mother’s voice and knew she was the victor. What a shame since his aunt was the only one who showed him any sympathy on rare occasions.
While Cyrus laughed and Gunnar slowly clapped,
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