The Oncilla put her hand on his and stopped him from drawing the weapon. It also stopped his heart momentarily. He couldn’t tell if she meant to do that or not. He reached for the weapon again but she stopped him once more and gave him a smile that somehow assured him that worrying would be a waste of his time.
“Why don’t you have another drink?” She smiled. “This won’t take long.”
“Grab her,” the door-sized alien shouted and unleashed a fresh wave of halitosis into the suite.
Cason refreshed his drink and sat back down in a chair to watch the spectacle unfold.
The other aliens were smaller and much more slender than the big guy, but they still stood a foot and a half taller than the woman. They came at Priscilla with a tremendous amount of confidence and a flurry of punches that ended up accomplishing very little.
She was quick. Quicker than anyone Cason had ever seen. She made it all look effortless. She wasn’t a twirling blur constantly spinning away from their attacks. Rather, while it always appeared as if she was standing still, whenever they went to hit her, she simply wasn’t there.
The whole scene became a chorus of grunts and whiffs as the thugs punched at the air and landed nothing on the woman.
Then she was standing on one of their necks. Cason watched it all happen and still couldn’t say exactly how she got there, but she had the intruder on the ground with a heel across his windpipe. It was obvious at this point that her dress wasn’t as limiting as it looked.
Perhaps more out of frustration than any strategic reasoning, one of the aliens screamed and charged across the room. He soon found himself against the wall, upside down with a bloody nose.
The galaxy was filled with fighting styles that enabled a smaller defender to use the size of their attacker against them. Almost every world had developed some system of unarmed combat that incorporated leverage and motion to turn the tide against a larger attacker.
At first, Cason assumed he must be witnessing one such art. And he kept assuming it right up until the big guy got into the fight.
With a roar, the massive alien rushed into the fray.
The Oncilla didn’t trip him or toss him over her hip. She ducked under his attempt to grab her and buried her fist into his stomach.
The whoosh from his lungs filled the room with foul breath. The giant creature stopped dead in his charge and stumbled backwards toward the doorway before collapsing on two of his men.
Cybernetics, thought Cason. It had to be. A woman her size couldn’t generate that kind of force without them. It didn’t matter how much alien kung fu she knew.
She grabbed another alien by the wrist and twisted. Cason leapt from the chair just as the alien came crashing down through the plush furniture.
A kick, a punch and an elbow later, the rest of the alien goon squad was splayed out around the once-immaculate suite.
Cason surveyed the carnage in the room. It was now clear why no one, including himself, had ever been able to bring the elusive Oncilla to justice. A part of him was even relieved he had never caught up to her at all.
A groan disrupted his thinking as the brute got back to his feet once more.
Priscilla pointed at the wall next to Cason. “Would you pull that lever please.”
Cason pulled the fire escape handle on the wall next to him. A hidden panel slid away to reveal the fire escape pod.
Oncilla stepped to one side as the brute charged across the room and hurled the charging alien into the waiting chamber.
“Close it please.”
He slapped the fire alarm and the door’s pod slid shut, mercifully locking away the goon and his breath.
A hiss and a scream preceded the gentle thwump of the pod’s launch into the air. Cason stood next to the woman as they watched it arc into the sky outside the window. It would land safely nearby—most likely at a hospital—where emergency services and the police would be waiting to tend to whoever was inside.
Cason pointed to the defeated attackers that lay scattered around the room. It looked like the aftermath of a hell of a party. “Are you sure this isn’t going to be a problem?”
“Absolutely.” Priscilla smiled, and he believed her.
7
Like the greyhounds of Earth or the rocketpups of Randor, Shandor’s own Shan’dorna were the picture of grace and speed. Prized for both their quickness and tracking ability, the sporting breed had been a favorite of Shandoran royalty for thousands of years. There wasn’t a king in recorded history that hadn’t kept a pack of Shan’dorna in the palace kennels.
According to Shandor’s earliest records, the creature was one of the first animals to be domesticated. The breed appeared as adornment on many Shandoran urns, pots and other vessels from antiquity. Many of these ancient examples lined the walls of the kennel as a testament to the breed. The king paid little attention to them. If they weren’t so valuable, he’d have them removed. They were a reminder of how stupid his forebears were. If it had been him, he’d have written Shandor’s history on something much more durable than pottery. But it was a tradition that continued to this day. Outside of the palace, the residents still did all of their writing on clay tablets and pottery. Parchment was far too valuable to be wasted on the scratchings of peasants.
The Shan’dorna kennels themselves were majestic. The building itself was 500 years old and filled with tributes to the greatest examples of the breed. Champions from long ago were still celebrated, their corpses preserved and posed in fitting tribute. Krazit’dorn had been positioned as if he was preening his legendary coat because the champion had been known for his exotic colorations. Rachi’dorn was positioned in a near impossible pose because the champion had been nimbler than any Shan’dorna that had come before him. And Hodoi’dorn had been positioned to make it appear as if he was licking himself because no one really gets to decide how history remembers them.
Jondak had always found solace in the kennels. Even as a young prince he had often shirked his studies to spend time with the creatures. Being an heir to the throne was a constant source of pressure, and one of his only means of relaxing was visiting the kennel to stroke the smooth fur of the colorful creatures and then give one a good kick just to hear it yelp.
He had delighted in the sound as a young prince, but he grew up to appreciate the creatures’ true beauty. Now, when the pressure of the palace mounted, he would often escape to the kennel and find comfort with his pets. Glean’dorn was his current favorite. The male was ruthless in the games and the fastest Shan’dorna on the planet. But beyond that, he and the king had an understanding. As alphas, they both bore the responsibility of leadership over their own kind. Perhaps it was because of this bond that Glean’dorn allowed only the king to handle him.
Jondak was stroking the magnificent Shan’dorna’s coat when he felt the Rox Tolgath approach from behind. The king did not turn to address him, but spoke before the man could start up with his incessant nagging. “Many of those that visit Shandor mistake the importance of the Shan’dornan,” he said. “They believe that they are prized for their speed. But it is actually the creatures’ cunning that makes them the royal animal. They are masters of subterfuge, using their brilliant coat to dazzle and confuse their prey. Luring them into a sense of euphoria and calm. Sometimes they strike. Other times they release their prey. But, even if they are spared, the prey lives with the knowledge that they are at the mercy of this regal creature.”
With this, the king turned and smiled at the Rox Tolgath and the Lictor. The masked man was never far from Malbourne’s side. The blank stare made the king uncomfortable, but he did not let it show.
“Many species keep a royal breed.” The Rox Tolgath smiled back at the king. He put a hand out toward the creature but Glean’dorn turned his nose away from the stranger. “It is almost always overbred and a shadow of its former strength. I’ve seen monsters two stories high bred through ego and vanity down to the size of a rodent. It never ceases to amuse me that, no matter how
small they get, no matter how weak or feeble-minded, they maintain their confidence and aggressive attitude despite the fact that all of the admirable qualities had been bred out of the line generations before.”
The king gave a soft chuckle. The insults weren’t lost on him, but this man, Malbourne, knew only of Shandor and its king what the king had let him believe. He set Glean’dorn back in his pen and watched the champion instantly set upon one of the females. This made him smile. They shared so much in common.
Jondak turned back to the gray man. “What is it you want, my dear Rox Tolgath? Why have you come to visit me in the royal kennel?”
“We must discuss the signing of the treaty, your majesty.”
“Oh, must we? I must tell you that I grow tired of this conversation when there are so many more interesting things to discuss.” Jondak didn’t care for the way the alien addressed him. The man spoke the titles and held to the etiquette, but he didn’t like the way this Emperor’s man said it. Resentment was nothing new for a king to hear, but it felt much more dangerous coming from his new ally than it did from a peasant he could have beheaded.
“How are the preparations for the ceremony proceeding?” the Rox Tolgath asked.
The king didn’t like the way the man said “proceeding,” either. There was no menace behind it; it just sounded stupid. It could well be the translator, but he chose to resent the man just a little more. “They are proceeding,” he stressed the word the way he knew it to be pronounced. “They are proceeding just fine.”
“I trust they will be made with haste,” Malbourne said.
Jondak laughed. He recognized the fear of a subservient when he heard it. The Rox Tolgath was imposing, but all but a king served a master. “Do you fear your Emperor’s impatience?”
“No.” There was no color in the man’s eyes. Just black pupils set in a black iris. This gave each member of Malbourne’s race a menacing look. The soldiers, the dignitaries, all he had met looked at him with hard eyes, but somehow Malbourne’s were the hardest. “I fear my own impatience, your majesty. As should you. See to the preparations.”
“Yes, yes,” Jondak said, and waved the man off. He would not be intimidated. He was king. “It’s on my list.”
“Is this the same list that includes playing with your dogs?” the Rox Tolgath asked.
“You say that as if you don’t think I have a list. Well, I do have a list,” he said with more authority and snapped his fingers.
A meek and scrawny Shandoran male stepped forward and held out a small parchment scroll. Jondak nodded toward it to end all doubts about the list.
The Rox Tolgath nodded to the armored man and the response was instantaneous. The Lictor snatched the list from the assistant and passed it to the Rox Tolgath, who snapped it open and began to scan the document.
“You can’t do that!” Jondak said. He motioned for the assistant to intervene. “Stop him, you moron!”
The Shandoran stepped forward to take back the scroll but soon found his throat in the Lictor’s powerful grip and his feet dangling beneath him. The assistant gurgled as the masked man shoved him away and threw him to the ground.
The king made a grab for the list himself, but Malbourne stepped out of his reach.
“Those are state secrets!” Jondak screamed, and looked around for anyone to help him.
One of the royal guards reached for her weapon but Malbourne’s ever-present companion already had a hand on his blaster and made it clear he would draw first and that it was best to let the Rox Tolgath read the document.
The gray alien scanned the parchment and read aloud several of the items from the king’s royal itinerary as the language was fed to him by his translator.
“Royal bath?” Malbourne read with some puzzlement in his voice.
“Oh, yes.” Jondak said. It was time to remind this man who he was dealing with. He was the king. “Seventeen females, chosen for the utmost beauty, tend to my bathing needs each morning and sometimes in the evening and sometimes for the hell of it. We value personal hygiene here on Shandor.”
“Royal breakfast.”
“Yes, seventeen different females, also chosen for their beauty, prepare a breakfast of delicacies that no normal man could acquire in a lifetime of travels. I work up quite an appetite from my morning bath.”
“Royal exercises.”
“Sixteen of the most beautiful females assist me each morning in keeping the royal body fit for service to the people of Shandor.”
“Sixteen?” the Rox Tolgath asked.
“We’re hiring,” the king replied.
The Rox Tolgath scanned the rest of the list silently. “I see nothing on this list about ceremony preparations. I do, however, see an entry for royal harem management.”
Jondak rolled his eyes, an intergalactically recognized gesture that meant “you have no idea” on almost every known world. “You think you have problems.”
“You still maintain a harem?” Malbourne asked.
“Of course. Every Shandoran King has had a royal harem. It is tradition. It is our way.”
“That’s savage,” Malbourne said.
“It’s a beating. Let me tell you.” Jondak pointed to the scroll. “I have two harems, actually. And if one ever found out about the other… I don’t have to tell you, but neither one would be happy, and I don’t know about you but I don’t need thirty-four of the world’s most beautiful females making my life any more miserable than they already do.”
The Rox Tolgath took a deep, slow breath. “That is not what I meant.”
“I mean, one harem is enough trouble. You have to staff not only for aesthetic purposes, but personality plays a much bigger part in it than anyone would ever think. I mean, you could have sixteen females that are the best of friends and you throw one wrong redhead into the mix and the whole thing turns into an entire den of women who won’t sleep with me.”
The Rox Tolgath stiffened and his voice lost all tone. “It sounds like a terrible burden.”
“You’d better believe it.” Jondak looked around the kennels to make sure that none of his wives had wandered in before he continued. “If I’m being honest, harem management occupies most of my day. Well, that and royal baths.”
“Perhaps I can help you with that.”
Jondak was shocked. “The baths? Please don’t misunderstand, my new friend, I like you but I don’t want you in my tub.”
Anger flared across the Rox Tolgath’s face. “Not the baths. Your harems. If you do not make this signing ceremony a priority on your to-do list this very moment, I will make both of your harems absolutely useless to you.”
It was Jondak’s turn to get angry. “You wouldn’t dare tell them about one another. You just couldn’t. It’s against the man code.”
“You mistake my meaning, your highness.”
Okay, that time there was some real resentment behind the ‘your highness.’ How dare this man insult him, and threaten his wives. “I thought you were a man of honor, Rox Tolgath Malbourne. What kind of man threatens two groups of seventeen women?”
Malbourne sighed. “I’m not threatening the women, you moron. I’m threatening you. If you don’t make the signing your top priority, I’ll have my men cut your alien pecker off and feed it to whatever your backwater of a planet’s equivalent of a rat is.”
“Oh,” he said. He had misunderstood. He looked at the silent man behind the Rox Tolgath. He could swear he was grinning in that stupid helmet.
“The treaty must be signed before our enemies act.” Malbourne left no room for misunderstanding.
“The Alliance?” The king laughed. Malbourne may be menacing but he wasn’t the bravest man. “What are they going to do?”
“Make no mistake, your highness. The Alliance has grown complacent, but no empire will sit idly by as it falls. The death throes will be violent. It will be even worse since they have yet to realize that their time has come.”
The king shook his head. “I’m afraid you gi
ve them too much credit, my new friend. I know them better than you do and I can say, with confidence, that they are not going to act while we have prisoners. They are weak and they’re all like, ‘Oh, life is too valuable and people shouldn’t have slaves,’ and other nonsense like that.”
Malbourne obviously didn’t appreciate his impressions of the Earthmen. The Rox Tolgath was a humorless man. He didn’t smile or smirk. He just slapped the royal to-do list into the king’s chest and said, “Do it fast.”
The alien turned and left the kennels, and silence hung in the air for several moments before the royal schedule-bearer stepped forward and stuck his hands out to take the itinerary back from the king.
“Oh, I’m definitely killing you,” the king said as he handed the rolled parchment back to the man. “Write it down.”
The attendant hurriedly unrolled the scroll and made the note as the king walked away.
“And schedule me another bath for after,” he shouted back to the scribe. “Executions always make me feel dirty.”
8
“This planet is so stupid.” Captain Thurgood stared out the window at the alien sky. The moon had risen, two more had set and one was just sitting there like it didn’t know what the hell it was supposed to be doing. “Can someone tell me if it’s supposed to be today, tonight or sometime yesterday?”
There was no answer to his question. Ensigns Intan and Reynolds were sitting against the cell wall, Nowak and Konditti were talking to Stendak, while Johnson and Sargsyan just sat there all dead and not doing much of anything. That wasn’t like Johnson. It was standard practice for Sargsyan.
Antarius cleared his throat and the room turned to look at him. “I understand Johnson and Sargsyan ignoring me, but the rest of you better have a damn good reason.”
“Sorry, Captain,” Intan said. “We’re just feeling a little hopeless.”
“Hopeless? Why, Ensign, there’s always hope. No matter how bad things get, there’s always a chance. Even in the darkest nights, there’s a ray of hope. Usually it’s the moon, but even if there isn’t a moon, it’s stars or some kind of glowstick maybe, but that’s beside the point because this place has a whole lot of moons. And that, Ensign Ingman, is why you shouldn’t give up hope. Not now. Not ever.”
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