* * *
Amber flushed and moaned with shame, looking down at a tiny scar on her wrist, a scar she had obtained in a passionate clinch with Whyle. She recalled them laughing and picking up the pieces of the ornament they broke during a wild embrace. She remembered Whyle gently tending to her hand as he apologized that things had gotten out of control.
“Oh God, it’s true…” Amber’s stomach revolted.
“You can’t trust your recollections.” Wrexel stroked her bowed head. “Please don’t judge yourself by what you perceive until your memories fully return.”
Her gaze remained fixed on the tiny scar on her wrist and he ran his finger over it. “Not even one memory should be trusted right now until they’re all back.”
“You know how I got this?” Her voice wobbled.
“Yes.”
“So I am his wife too?”
“Yes, but Amber, we have more important things to worry about right now.”
He hoisted her to her feet. “We’re going to have a meeting about the best solution to their problem.”
Amber felt numb, confused, and completely immoral. She didn’t want her memory to return. It held too many personal horrors that violated her ethics. She felt warm when she thought of Whyle, knew instinctively that she liked and trusted him. She still could not fathom how she was able to be married to two men. The kisses were real, though.
All of them.
Misery settled upon her and a part of her did not want her memory to return.
Amber of the returning fragmented memories was a femme fatale with two husbands, a pining ex fiancé, and a lover on the sly.
This Amber, the one sitting on the floor staring at her wrist and wiping the tears that dropped onto the small scar, felt decent and kind.
“Amber, are you listening to me?” Wrexel urged her to lift her face to him. “Don’t think about your memories now, they’re out of context.”
She nodded miserably.
“We are going to meet with Travis again… there may be other people you don’t remember, but who recognize you,” he warned.
“I understand,” she said softly, grappling with the insanity of her life.
“Their perception of us… of you and me…is not what…”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I will wait until all my memories return.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, lifted her to her feet, and held her to his chest. “Keep your questions for when we are alone.”
* * *
They walked to the meeting room together. It was filled with a lot more people than before. They made all sorts of sounds as Wrexel entered. None of them were friendly.
Travis motioned for them to sit down.
“As explained,” he said aloud to the group.
“For reasons we are still trying to work out, our Watch Tower was disabled, no warning message was received, and no chance given to call for help. The first responding Thromians who used to patrol have already left. We are still trying to establish if it came about from the communications handover from Throm to Rak. At this stage, it is irrelevant; we cannot reboot the system and we cannot notify any of the Federated Eight that we are under attack by the Sketchi. We have with us now the First Lord of Throm who crashed his vessel in the South East parameters this week. Wrexel left without indication of his travels and so Throm is not aware he is here.”
Travis held the room with his earnest gaze. “The Sketchi either planned this attack well or got lucky. As we await the changeover from Throm to the Raks, we have another 60-plus hours without any protection or communication. Our last feedback from Lord Whyle advised that the universal communications lapse would be short-lived, but we have no idea how long it will take, or if the Sketchi were behind it.”
“When was your last Yimmyrd council visit?” Wrexel interrupted.
“The day before you arrived, so unless the Creator takes pity on us and alerts them, we will not see them for a few more days.”
The Creator?
Amber pinched her eyes closed.
Set it aside for now, Amber; otherwise you will crawl into a corner and drool, she told herself.
Travis continued. “Whether it was good fortune on their side or a successful breach makes no difference. Our only chance of calling for help lies with Wrexel’s crashed vessel. Our internal police force is no match for the Sketchi; we are outnumbered.”
He opened the floor for commentary and Travis was bombarded with criticism.
“This wouldn’t have happened if we stayed under Thromian protection.”
“We wouldn’t have a three-day lapse of communication if you hadn’t insisted they move out and invited the goddamn Raks here.”
“What makes you think the Raks will be any better than Throm?”
“The Raks have been out of a five-year embargo for one month! An embargo imposed on them because they betrayed the federation and you still deemed them better?”
The room began to cycle out of control.
“You didn’t want reminders of her and put us all in jeopardy.”
Arguments broke out and Wrexel watched in mocking amusement until Travis slammed his fists down on the table. “The vote was tallied and fair,” he roared. “Nobody wanted a reminder of Throm and their treachery.”
“No, you didn’t,” somebody shouted, “and you worked the council to vote with you.”
“This isn’t helping.” A lone female voice brought them all under control.
Travis cleared his throat and gave Wrexel a look of bitter admiration. “We have in our midst the most esteemed architect of terror and war, so let’s hear what he has to say.”
Wrexel did not seem offended with the title as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “There is only one solution as I see it. The Sketchi’s plan is always the same and is always followed rigorously. For those of you who may not know,” he glanced at Amber, “the Sketchi are here on a mission not because they want your land as their own. It is your women they are after. They need them as breeding capsules to implant and harvest their eggs. They are here to reap live pods and will go to any lengths to ensure the procreation and continuation of their race.”
Amber cringed as he continued.
“Thromian females, who are trained to fight, will euthanize themselves if captured by the Sketchi, for their fate is sealed and horrific.”
“So what do you recommend, Lord Wrexel?” asked one of the older council leaders.
“The Sketchi are known for term offers; they are not eager to fight.”
Wrexel lifted a brow at Travis. “I’m assuming you received an offer?”
Travis nodded. “They have surrounded us, and are waiting for an offering of females, or they will attack the city and take all. They have a large ship just outside of our walls and their firing power is not matched by anything we have on Rheese.”
* * *
The door opened as he spoke. Travis groaned and began shaking his head at the elderly man who came forward.
“James, no,” Travis said desperately.
“Missed the invite.” The old man glared at Travis. “Why would we trust this Thromian and grovel for his aid?” He pointed at Wrexel with a hand that shook. “This vile bastard who duped us all and took an innocent away… used her and then shared her with his cousin when he became bored.“
Travis moved forward quickly and held him at bay.
“We discussed this… she won’t remember you,” he said urgently. “This is not the time!”
The man ignored him and walked over to Wrexel. He raised a shaking hand to strike the face of the towering alien but Wrexel deftly caught it and held it in place.
“Dr. James, I presume? Wouldn’t you rather take the time to embrace your daughter than waste your efforts trying to beat me?”
He stepped aside, motioning that he was free to talk with Amber.
The old man’s face crumpled. He flung himself on Amber and crushed her tightly to him. She stared at Wrexel in hor
ror. She had not recognized her own father.
She looked at the man in confusion as he hugged her, fighting back tears of sorrow.
“He wouldn’t allow me to see you…” He grasped her face, kissed her cheeks, staring at her as if he believed her dead, yet none of his words or his touch rekindled a memory.
She didn’t know him at all.
“When I saw you on his ship, with your clothes torn and couldn’t get to you…” He looked at Wrexel with disdain.
“Jay.” Travis’s voice was gentle as he moved him back from Amber. “Amber has been in an accident… it has affected her memory. I told you this.”
He looked at her meaningfully. “She can’t remember any of us.”
Her father looked at her, saw no recognition in her eyes despite her tears, and turned his anger back at Wrexel.
“What have you done to her?” he demanded, staring at Amber with dismay. “What have you done to my daughter?”
Amber clasped his hands and reassured him that her memory loss wasn’t Wrexel’s fault. “I had an accident...” It didn’t feel right to call a stranger “Father.’
“I’m so sorry I don’t remember you, I’m sure it will all come back.” Amber patted him consolingly.
* * *
Wrexel stood unemotional and unmoving as two men came forward at Travis’s command and gently encouraged the old man to move away.
Amber looked at Wrexel as her father obeyed and moved aside. “Did you keep me from my father?”
Wrexel’s eyes shimmered with anger but he refused to respond as Amber’s mind reeled with new findings. “Why were my clothes torn? What is he talking about?”
She felt out of control, saddened by her inability to remember her father and confused by the accusations against Wrexel that were so blatantly cruel.
“I want to know now!” she hissed at him.
He leaned forward, his arms still folded. “Your clothes,” he snarled in her ear, “were shredded because minutes earlier you tore them from yourself, begging me to take you in my conference room, which I declined. Your father saw you shortly after.”
When she looked at him in disbelief, he added, “As I said, you need your full memory to return before making judgments.”
He turned an irritated gaze upon them and silence ensued. “If anybody else wishes to launch an angry attack on me, let it happen now while the Sketchi invade your skies and collect your daughters and wives. I will leave and take Amber to safety. As you have rightly assumed, she is my only priority and in truth the only reason I am here bothering to help.”
Travis stood up quickly. “Wait.” He took a deep breath. “Like it or not… we need your assistance.”
As the words tumbled out, he looked at Amber urgently, clearly begging her to use her influence on Wrexel and persuade him to stay and help.
Travis turned to the group of leaders when he saw she was in a state of turmoil. “The sacrifices Amber has made for her people will not be discussed now.”
His gaze locked on Wrexel’s. “We need your help… Amber’s people need your help.” He looked sickened by his words.
“Sacrifice?” she began but seeing his exasperated expression, she quelled the questions. The alarm and fear of the humans reached out to her.
Her people.
Her kind.
They all assumed she was with Wrexel against her will. Maybe that is what she told them. She decided she could fix the trauma she had caused by doing something better than being a promiscuous bitch. The air thickened with fear and all eyes looked at the couple.
She closed her eyes, sifted through her memories, and came up with nothing but Staede. His lessons, the strategies of protection and defense.
Planning.
She wasn’t sure of anything but the idea of them being under attack.
Emotions played no role in war; Staede had taught her this first.
Kill or be killed.
Survival of the fittest was the law of nature and that included outwitting, outliving, and defeating. Amber sat down, emotionally weak but determined to put that aside for the greater good.
“Feelings have no place in war, so what is the plan of defense? I am sure my husband will not let my people down, knowing that I choose to stay here and fight with them.”
“Plan of defense?” Wrexel looked at her with pride for a few short moments before he turned to the waiting group.
“The Sketchi are reluctant fighters and prefer to bargain first and resort to violence later. On my vessel is a universal communicator. When we crashed, I couldn’t make any contact because of reasons I will not waste time explaining now. I did not transport it with me because my plan was to come here and communicate with Throm.”
He looked down in thought. “I will return to my craft, retrieve the device, and send a distress call without interference, for Throm’s communication system is separate from yours and much stronger than the Sketchi’s. One of the closest members of the federation should come to your aid. The very threat of armed response being on its way may chase away the Sketchi prematurely when they realize we have access to Comms and their lives are threatened. Time is unfortunately still not on our side. While I am hopeful and will move as fast as possible to my vessel, you must face the inevitability of a fight.”
Grave faces nodded in acceptance.
“Until then, arm your men and hide your child-bearing-age women within the city. When the countdown is nearly up, bargain for more time, barter the amount of woman they want… the Sketchi will not find this strange… they do not possess human sentiment where the sacrifice of a few for many is unthinkable.”
The prognosis wasn’t good but at least there was a plan.
“I need full information about the possible exit routes from here that could be used to bypass the patrolling invaders.”
* * *
Travis ordered some of his team to do this and they left the room immediately. “How can we fight these Sketchi?” He accepted the inevitability.
“Our only advantage over them is that they move very slowly for the most part, unless they attack, and even then, they have only short bursts of energy. Do not waste time with laser power, as they have shields. You will need to fight hand to hand. Shehin, visual please,” Wrexel ordered.
The hologram showed a short, fat goblin-like creature with thick olive skin and dressed in a robe of dark brown. The hood lowered to show a bald head, a flat upturned nose bearing a brass ring, and heavy lips with two warthog tusks. The creature moved with a limping gait, awkwardly shifting forward one leg at a time, his strangely shaped head with sparse hair roaming from side to side as his reptilian inner eyelids covered and uncovered his gaze.
Wrexel began to explain. “When they spot their goal, they have a clear mission. The first is grasping.”
The Sketchi’s narrow reptile eyes widened when he spotted his target and his thick olive arms grew to three times their length like a chameleon’s tongue.
“Then impregnate.”
The robe opened and four long octopus tentacles penetrated a human female midriff. Blood poured from her womb briefly but it sealed up when the tentacles pulled back. The woman sank to the floor and the Sketchi wrapped her in thin spiderweb gauze with hands that were surprisingly deft considering they sported only three long, fat fingers.
“Hang and hibernate.”
A line of Sketchis carrying their “female” victims above their heads with surprising strength appeared, walking up a ramp to their ship. Once inside, they added them to rows and rows of women who hung from life-preserving tentacles that spread around them like tangled wires. A large writhing ball, sometimes two, grew within each of their enlarged abdomens. Whilst their stomachs moved and twisted, the woman hung lifelessly.
“Birth.”
Wrexel showed the baby Sketchis tearing themselves from the body of a female, who then began to scream as if alive again.
“The women are kept alive with food and air tubes.” Wrexel pointed it out
above each hanging captive. “It’s the hormones in her blood that are required by the Sketchi to bring their children to fruition. If she survives the birth, she is used again or discarded.”
He finished the presentation with eyes that lingered on Amber. “Our Thromian females take their own lives if they know capture is imminent.” He lifted an amulet on Amber’s necklace.
Amber looked down as Wrexel pressed and twisted until it opened to reveal the tablet.
“Scourge,” he said roughly, more to himself than to any of them as he snapped the bauble shut. He frowned then and lifted the small pea-sized trinket that lay next to it as if he hadn’t seen it before. He raised his brows but Amber stared back at him with equal confusion. He lowered it and continued his lesson.
“Their breeding capacity, ability to create highly innovative plans, and aptitude for moving about undetected make them a worthy foe. Their hide is thick and they are difficult to kill. They attack by strangulation.”
He showed a hologram of a Sketchi using the same four tentacles and arms to strangle some creatures that strongly resembled humans.
“Laser weapons can be used if the Sketchi are shield-free, but there are very few of the 104 that don’t protect themselves in this way. Reinforced swords are your only defense.”
“We have a limited supply,” Travis responded gravely, “but I will arm as many of our men as I can.”
“Aim for their eyes; they’re the softest part of the body and the easiest to penetrate,” Wrexel continued. “Their heads are also soft at the top, so if you can get close enough, plunge a dagger into the skull; this causes them a lingering and painful death and is more rewarding than any other means of killing them.”
They all looked at him as if he had lost his mind, even more so when he directed this instruction to Amber.
“Lastly, if a woman is impregnated, it is better to kill her; there is no coming back, no saving her, for the damage to her brain from lack of oxygen is permanent.”
* * *
Silence ensued as the horror of the situation truly descended. Then, with a plan in place, the room emptied except for a few of the leaders, who were all in deep conversation amongst themselves.
AMNESIA Page 10