Tribute: Captives of Kazir

by Sophie Kisker

  By the time they arrived, she had managed to breathe her way to a little more calmness and think about her situation. She really wanted Mik'kal to show up now—she needed him.

  She needed him. She was grateful he was helping her people, but she needed his safety, his protection—and more. She needed his warmth, his reassurance, even his strictness.

  She wondered why the Dirac wanted to see her. She didn’t trust him, no matter if Mik'kal did. As soon as the car stopped, the guard yanked her to her feet and pulled her from the car. Rain, pouring down in sheets, soaked them in the few moments it took to get inside.

  When they reached the Dirac’s office, the door swung open as though they were expected. The guard dragged her through and pushed her forward. She fell to her knees and toppled over to her side.

  A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see the Dirac looking down from an impossible height. She struggled back to her knees. She wasn’t going to get to her feet without help, so she settled for glaring up at him.

  He surprised her by kneeling, then reaching around her head to remove the gag.

  “My master told me to stay home and not let anyone in. You have no right to barge in and bring me here.”

  “Human, I am afraid I have some bad news.”

  A chill swept through her like an arctic wind. She shook her head as he continued speaking.

  “The storm hit the island very hard,” he said, with seeming gentleness. “The humans were in the wrong cave, one that was geologically unstable. Mik'kal tried to get everyone moved to a different cave. A few made it. Many were caught outside when a tidal wave rolled over the island, and the cave collapsed on the rest of them.” He reached out a hand to pet her hair, and she drew back. A momentary narrowing of his eyes was quickly replaced with a look of sadness.

  “There were only a few survivors. Mik'kal wasn’t one of them.”

  Mik'kal was dead?

  Most of the humans were dead?

  She shook her head slowly at first, then picked up speed. “No. No. It’s not true. Nononono. No!”

  He tried to pet her head again, and she pulled away.

  “Don’t touch me! You’re not allowed to touch me!”

  He stood. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me. He was one of my oldest friends, and I am shocked and saddened as well.”

  A bolt of lightning crackled across the sky, and a boom muted by the thick glass sounded at the same time. Someone cleared a throat and the Dirac motioned him forward, listening to the message.

  “Ba!” dismissed the Dirac. “This office has stood here for millennia, and I guarantee it has seen worse storms than this. Now, get out of here and tell the weather forecaster I want to see him in here within the period to explain just how he missed this storm!”

  “Yes, sir.” The assistant almost ran out the door.

  Outside, another bolt of lightning rippled across the sky with another muted boom.

  He turned back to Mena.

  “Anyhow, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. He’s dead. And he made me promise I’d take care of you if anything happened to him.”

  This wasn’t happening. Fate, God, Deshena, or whatever deity actually existed, if one did, couldn’t possibly snatch away the glimmer of hope she’d had for her new life. She shook her head again, the tears starting to fall, chanting “No, no, no, no” under her breath.

  He walked behind her. She twisted, trying to follow until he gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head back to the front.

  “So, I am now your master.” He knelt down behind her and she shivered as he spoke softly into her ear. “I am not as… soft… as Mik'kal. You will obey me, or I will make you sorry you didn’t.”

  “He’s not dead!” She knew with certainty the Dirac lied. Or was her mind trying to avoid dealing with reality? But… she would have felt something. She didn’t know how she knew, but there was no doubt in her mind, she would have felt Mik’kal’s death.

  He yanked her hair hard. “Get up.”

  She shrieked and managed to get her feet underneath her. When she was finally up, gasping and whimpering from pain, he put his arms around her from behind, took hold of the bottom of the tunic, and pulled it straight up and over her head. It caught on her bound arms behind her, so he left it there. He cupped her breasts as she struggled, then took her nipples in his hands , pinching them hard. She screeched.

  “So, now that I have a human of my own, I can promise you’ll be bred within a solar. If you’re obedient, I might let you keep the child. If you’re not, I’ll sell it.”

  “No!” She let out a cry of anguish. “I will die before I let you do that!”

  He raised his hands to her throat, but as he touched the collar, she took off running. There was nowhere to go, really, because the two guards were at the door, but for the moment, she was free.

  She fled to the other side of the office, then turned to face him, backing up as he stalked toward her. Her back hit the window, and she was out of room. He pounced and grabbed her, whipping her around so the side of her face was plastered against the glass.

  “You won’t die,” he hissed, “but I might make you wish you were dead. Look down at the city. Look!”

  She shuddered as she opened her eyes. This was like standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. They were higher than anything else around. She could make out shapes below that were probably buildings carved into the stone, but the gulf of darkness between her and them was unbroken until a bolt of lightning turned the view into broad daylight for a split second. She was certain she was going to pitch right out over the edge into the blackness.

  “I own you! I own everything you see! I own the humans, and if there are any left alive, they will be my slaves, too. I’ve bided my time for too long, but the time to let free the darkness and violence has finally come. There will be no one to save you, and no escape.”

  He pressed against her, mashing her whole body into the glass, the unmistakable feel of his erection pushing into her cuffed hands.

  Without really thinking, she grabbed the bulge and squeezed as hard as she could. He let out a howl, backing up, trying to pull free, but she held on for dear life, stumbling backward with him. He fell, and she went down too, his cock still in her hands. The jolt of hitting the ground broke her hold. She rolled off of him just as a bolt of lightning hit the dome. Every window shattered at once, and the fury of the storm rolled in.

  Two guards tried to make their way across the room, but a gust of wind hit them, and she watched in horror as one of them fell backward and disappeared over the edge of the floor into the blackness.

  She felt a hand around her ankle and looked down. The Dirac was struggling to rise, his face a mask of hate. He was screaming something at her she couldn’t hear. He grabbed at her again, and she picked up her other foot and kicked him in the head. When his grip didn’t slacken, she kicked him again and again until his hand fell away.

  And then he began to glow, every bone and muscle beneath his patterned skin outlined in stark relief. She watched, frozen, as he rose up off the floor and hovered in the air. He was conscious enough to look at her and reach out, his lips forming a plea she couldn’t hear, the storm’s fury the only noise in her ears.

  An ominous rumbling pulled her attention up, and time slowed as cracks appeared in the center of the dome, spidering their way around the carvings and out to the edges where the windows used to be. For a strange moment, she thought she was being sucked up toward the ceiling, but a split second later, she realized that the stones were falling down.

  Suddenly, the Dirac’s body was flung straight at her, knocking her back and trapping her underneath, while the ancient dome fell on top of them.

  Then it was black.

  32

  Mik'kal

  Mik'kal had the strangest day of his life. He and the humans had worked feverishly to get everyone moved the short but uphill and rocky distance to the other cavern. They’d had to break up innumerable fig
hts and get the combatants outside, away from the influence of the cavern and the nirza. Once outside, those who had been fighting looked around, dazed and unsure of what had been so important they had to fight over it.

  The wind got worse, and walking upright became difficult. The rain came down in sheets, obscuring the path.

  Some of the humans who had spent ten years on a carefully constructed and climate-controlled ship were terrified of going out into the storm, and the longer they balked, the worse the weather got. Handfuls of others stayed behind when they could have left, to calm and cajole the terrified ones and get them moved out. Some walked with their charges through the rain and the gusty winds all the way to the other cavern, then returned to see who else they could help, being pelted by debris and small rocks sent airborne by the gusts.

  There were injuries, but those who were still upright tucked an injured arm inside a shirt or held a pad to the blood on their face, and kept working.

  The medics treated a few more severely injured, doing the best they could without most of their equipment. The biggest men among them picked up those who couldn’t walk and carried them through the storm to the other cavern.

  And this was still the outer bands of the storm. The worst of it was due in another period. It was clear that by the time the storm abated, anything left behind in the camp would be gone. Mik'kal found himself making mental lists of what his humans would need when they finally emerged to the ruins of their colony. He’d be spending a lot of time here in the future and promised himself he’d bring Mena with him.

  He didn’t have any time to think about the circumstances that had sent the humans to the wrong cave.

  Just before the final group of a hundred or so left the first cave, their nerves frayed, and beginning to bicker among themselves, the winds died. At first, he didn’t believe it was more than a change in the wind direction, and perhaps the hills to the east were partially blocking it. Then the sky cleared.

  He stared into the sun, confused, before turning to the humans to find they were staring back at him. Before he could say anything, however, the voice of the weather station hailed him on his datapad.

  “SubSec,” he growled, “what the fuck is going on?”

  “Senator,” the SubSec’s voice was strained, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. The worst of the storm was about to arrive where you are, then it abruptly turned north. Storms don’t do that,” he added unnecessarily.

  “Is there a chance it could turn back this way again?”

  “I would have laughed at you yesterday if you’d asked me that, sir, but now that it’s passed the island, it would have to turn completely around and come backward, and the rotation of the planet makes that impossible.” He didn’t sound as certain about ‘impossible,’ though.

  “Where is it headed now?”

  “It’s taking aim at Parthau Adal, but it’s not enough to put the city in serious danger, and I’ve already issued warnings.”

  A city carved out of mountain rock was in little peril from even the worse storms. Mik'kal had a brief thought for Mena. She was safe, but she would probably be frightened.

  He couldn’t risk contacting her. Now that the evacuation was done, his thoughts turned back to the Dirac, and Mik'kal’s certainty he’d just tried to kill the humans and Mik'kal. Not only had the maps been tampered with, he had no doubt the Dirac was behind the disappearance of the shelters that had been ordered—shelters that would have withstood the storm without the need to evacuate to the caves.

  He wished Mena was here. She was safe at home, yes, but if she were here, he could stay until they could figure out what would happen next.

  He needed to get home to her and plan his next move, which was either going to be a public condemnation of the Dirac’s actions, hopefully leading to his resignation ,or a very private government takeover. He didn’t put much hope in the former. He had several senator friends he could count on, even for a coup. He wondered if Nikos would be one of them.

  If he left, the humans would be unprotected. That worried him, but he couldn’t protect them by himself. At least the worst of the storm hadn’t hit, so while there was some damage to their encampment, they would probably be back on their feet quickly. He hoped so. He’d seen nothing but honor among them today. The only one without honor, it seemed, was the dead captain. He wondered how a man who had spent ten years shepherding the last humans across the galaxy could have betrayed them so thoroughly.

  He stayed long enough to give the first officer, now the new captain, a thorough briefing on what was going on, what a nirza was, and why the violence happened. She listened intently, her eyes growing hard at his description of the Dirac’s actions and what he planned to do. She commented they needed to have more conversations about this. He promised her he’d come back to do that.

  Then he was in his flyer and headed back. He kept low the whole way to avoid detection, which made the ride longer, and meant he had to stay at the controls, adjusting every moment of the long flight home. He wished he could let Mena know he was on his way, but contacting her would reveal his hand.

  At last, he touched down at the airfield. It was littered with storm debris, but the flyers all seemed intact. He summoned a car, and after a short journey home over more debris-littered streets, he was at the apartment door.

  Which was not locked.

  He went on high alert, hoping he would only find a naughty slave who needed a thrashing for trying to leave, but he knew as soon as he entered something was wrong. The apartment felt empty.

  Blankets on the bed were pulled awry. Even more concerning was finding his sword on the floor. He spotted his datapad, snatching it up, wishing he’d turned his pad back on despite the danger. When she’d been trying to get it to turn on, it had turned on—for him. It was designed if it were stolen and someone tried to access it, he’d get an alert and a continuous relay of what was going on around the pad. He’d enjoyed watching his naughty slave put on clothes, sit at the table to eat, and had been stunned when she’d masturbated, but he’d cut the connection when his ship went down, and hadn’t reestablished it again.

  That didn’t mean it had stopped recording. He watched her sleeping at high speed, finally seeing and hearing the entrance of the guards.

  He stared at them, his mind churning over the implications, none of which ended well. He watched with pride as she tried to defend herself with the sword. Then, they disappeared, but he knew exactly where to find her.

  33

  Mik'kal

  The closer he got to the Dirac’s offices, the more debris tangled the streets. The storm must have been ferocious here. His car stopped abruptly in front of a large tree. He’d walk from here.

  As he exited the car, he looked ahead to the building, and what he saw made his blood freeze. The entire top of the building had collapsed.

  He took off at a run, his mind torn between refusing to think about what he might find, and desperation to find her. As he got close, a security soldier met him.

  “Sorry, sir. We can’t allow anyone in there until it’s stabilized.”

  “How soon?” he asked through gritted teeth, knowing they were right, but not liking it.

  “The support field under the floor should be in place any moment. Once we know the floor won’t collapse, we’ll send in searchers.”

  “Do you know if Dirac Ortan was here when it happened?”

  The man’s face grew somber. “We believe so, yes.”

  “Did he have anyone with him?” He tried to keep calm.

  “Unknown, sir.”

  A beep from a device at the soldier’s waist caught his attention.

  “The floor is secure?” Mik'kal asked as he moved to the building.

  “Sir, yes, but the searchers need time—”

  “Do you know who I am?” Mik'kal growled.

  “Yes, Senator Isyll, I do, but—”

  “If the Dirac is dead, do you know what I am?”

  “Yes, bu
t sir—”

  Mik'kal hurried toward the entrance, glaring at anyone who dared look at him twice. He ignored the lift in the main hall, opting for a small, enclosed stairway, and emerged onto the third floor to a scene of chaos. The ceiling here was intact, but down the hall where the doors to the Dirac’s office had stood, there was a huge hole. Guards and workers shouted and scurried among the chunks of debris, kicking up clouds of dust. Beyond where the doors had been, he saw chunks of rocks piled high. Workers were using grav lifts to move the biggest pieces out of the way, carefully checking underneath before moving them to an area that had been cleared.

  As he approached, a shout went up, and everyone stopped moving. A slab was lifted, and underneath could plainly be seen the red and black of the Dirac’s robes. Even from several meters away, Mik'kal could see the unnatural position of his head on his body. No one said anything—no one had to.

  The Dirac was dead.

  His gut twisting, Mik'kal turned to one of the workers.

  “Have they found anyone else?”

  The man nodded. “One guard who was right inside the door who was crushed, and another who was blown over the edge.”

  “Anyone else?”

  The worker shook his head. “Not so far, Dirac Isyll.”

  The title was one he’d not planned to assume for a long time, and it seemed wrong to hear it spoken out loud. And something else was much more important right now, anyway.

  As he stepped over debris and entered the remains of the office, everyone looked at him, but no one said anything. A medic was carefully examining the body lying on its back, the ceremonial robes of his house spread out wide and flat underneath, almost as though they had been arranged.

  The medic stood and motioned for a grav bed. It floated over and settled next to the body. The medic started to pick up the body, but the robe was caught on some stones. He paused to release from around the Dirac’s throat, leaving it behind on the floor as the body was freed and placed on the stretcher.