Their Nobek wasn’t nearly so optimistic. “It’s a help, but the Earthers have no intention of releasing our Matara to us. They might find a way out of the field before our destroyers arrive. Negotiations with those barbarians would be a waste of time!” Breft’s voice rose as he spoke and his fists clenched, a clear indication his patience was spent.
“Indeed. That’s why you’re not going with us to debate the matter.” Rajhir’s gaze captured that of his Nobek. “Flencik and I will be quite agitated when we confront the Earthers. In fact, we’ll cause a large distraction that will require of everyone’s full and undivided attention.”
Breft’s face lit up with predatory pleasure. “I see.” He licked his lips in anticipation.
Rajhir snapped a nod, glad to see they were on the same page. “The Earthers will not take our Matara without a fight. Our own transport to Kalquor is ready and cleared for take-off. Let’s see to it that our entire clan is on it.”
Chapter 18
Amelia sat in the Earther transport’s grim holding cell, her head hanging with defeated exhaustion. Twenty minutes ago Croft and the other soldiers had forced her to disembark the shuttle then brought her into this spartan cell, leaving her alone. The room echoed with her sobs.
Actually the room made spartan luxurious. It was utterly empty. The space lacked even a chair upon which to sit. Despite being metallic, the dull gray of the cell’s surfaces reflected nothing. Amelia huddled in one corner of the featureless cube, feeling beyond all hope.
She never should have left the clan’s quarters. She should have listened to Flencik. Now her world was shattered, a beautiful world in which she’d finally discovered unequivocal love and understanding. Rajhir, Flencik, and Breft had poured selfless devotion on her. She repaid it by abandoning them and taking their desperately needed offspring with her. She’d made her own unborn a hostage to the whims of Earth’s bigoted government.
Amelia expected no rescue. The Plasians, interested only in sensual pleasures, kept no military force. Not even a police force was needed for the peaceful culture. Poor Vrill’s murder would receive no justice, only mourning. While the Rajhir’s clan would no doubt try to negotiate a means to free Amelia, Earth would turn a deaf ear to their arguments. Three Kalquorians would be no match for an entire platoon of armed soldiers, so force was out of the question.
Amelia was lost.
The transport’s engines had been running when they arrived, but she’d heard no hint that they’d lifted off yet. Why were they still here? Croft had said they’d take off immediately. It wasn’t fair that the transport should remain on Plasius so long; it gave her a taste of hope, hope she knew was false. She and her child were doomed. Her chest hitched, but no tears remained to flow. She’d sapped herself of all tears along with her strength.
A click sounded from the metal door across the room. Amelia wearily raised her head as it swung open.
Two soldiers swept into the room. As old and hard looking as Croft, their rifles were instantly trained on Amelia. General Croft and an older, stoop-shouldered man followed them in.
“This is what you came to see, Dr. Joyner,” the general said, sweeping his arm toward Amelia.
The older man peered at her through thick spectacles, a surprise to Amelia since few wore corrective lenses in this day and age. He looked her up and down. “Did you use her as a punching bag, General?”
“She resisted capture,” Croft lied effortlessly. “It was necessary to use force on the degenerate slut.”
“And strangling her? Look at those fingerprints. Is that an approved method for subduing prisoners?”
“One of the men became zealous with his need to punish her for her heinous crimes. It did both him and her good. She’s been quiet as a lamb since.” A malicious smile appeared on Croft’s face, daring Amelia to naysay him.
She didn’t bother to protest the falsehoods pouring from the general’s mouth. She knew it would be a waste of breath, and she feared he would kill her in truth if she spoke against him. The man was too unstable to be pushed.
The doctor grunted. “She appears in good health otherwise. My examination will confirm that. Do you have any idea of when she conceived the child?”
“It must have been within the last six weeks. That’s when the Kalquorian clan arrived on Plasius.” Croft turned his frigid gaze to the doctor. “I don’t agree with Earth’s decision to allow the alien bastard to be born. It’s an abomination of all that’s decent.”
Amelia’s heart stuttered with a brief ray of joy that she’d be allowed to bear the clan’s baby.
Dr. Joyner harrumphed. “It will provide us with valuable research. Such a specimen has never been studied.”
“What if it’s dangerous?” Croft fumed. “We don’t know what an unholy beast of this nature will be capable of.”
“It will be a baby. Nothing more than a mix of Earther and Kalquorian.”
“A creature of Satan’s. A demon.”
Joyner rolled his eyes and gave up. “The research lab is in a military facility,” he said. He seemed to view the general with disdain. “All necessary precautions will be taken. Surely you have faith in the might of your own military?”
“Even the best security has a hole in it somewhere.”
“There’d better not be.” The doctor’s eyes glazed as icy as Croft’s. “We plan to clone the specimen for more test subjects if possible. We know Kalquorian physiology resists cloning, but we can’t dissect the creature if there’s only one.”
Amelia’s momentary hope shattered. Despite her fear of Croft, her voice croaked through her bruised throat in her attempt to scream at them. “What do you mean ‘dissect’? You’re talking about an innocent life! My child’s life!”
Neither man reacted to her outburst. It was as if they hadn’t heard her. “I don’t like the thought of that abomination getting loose,” Croft said. “I think I’ll make it a point to look over the security of your facility myself.”
Joyner’s portable com buzzed for attention. He unclipped the black box, no bigger than a deck of cards, from his belt and held it to his mouth. “Go ahead.”
A disembodied female voice crackled from the com. “The examination room is ready, Doctor.”
“On our way,” Joyner said and re-attached his com to his belt. He nodded at Croft.
“Bring her,” the general said to his underlings. He followed the doctor out of the room.
“Come with us,” one of the soldiers barked at Amelia.
“Please,” she said, her voice little more than a hiss of breath. She knew begging was futile, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You can’t go along with this. It isn’t right. I’m an Earth citi—”
The sight of the soldiers raising their guns and taking careful aim at her froze her voice. She saw no pity, no compassion on either face.
Amelia was at the mercy of those who had none.
Chapter 19
A Plasian female aide wearing a flowing transparent dress ushered Rajhir’s clan into Saucin Israla’s office. Apparently even the aide appreciated the gravity of the situation, because she didn’t bother to flirt with the men. Her pretty face was grim as she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Rajhir wondered how many intergalactic treaties had been signed on the lounge cushions that lined every wall of the room. He himself had been on the receiving end of Israla’s artful negotiation skills during trade talks over the years. He’d signed many an official agreement with her coiled around him, doing those delightful things she did so well.
Most of those agreements happened on the wall-hugging lounger, but a few finished on the fur-covered floor. The most memorable treaty, a ten-year contract that traded Kalquorian ore for Plasian produce, reached its final compromise with Rajhir strapped down on Israla’s blackwood desk. She watched as two of her aides pleasured him, directing their efforts with sharp commands. She deigned to touch him only once that day, when her mouth accepted his groaning release. Flencik and Bre
ft had insisted on hearing the story over and over of how their controlling Dramok had been utterly mastered by a Plasian.
Still, the joy of gaining Amelia for his Matara outweighed the loss of other women … even one of Israla’s many skills. The Earther’s sweet soul eclipsed all others completely in Rajhir’s heart. He’d been mastered again, this time by his haunted beauty Amelia. No other woman would ever compare to her.
Israla entered the room from the door opposite the one the clan had come in through. She glided across the sumptuous room to greet them. Under less dire circumstances, the Plasian’s dress today – or lack of it – might still have given Rajhir momentary pause. Israla wore sellil, a fabric that clung to the skin wherever draped. The Saucin’s sellil was bronze to match her skin, giving her the illusion of nakedness. She might as well have been; the fabric was three inches wide at best, a strip of cloth winding about her lithe form. One end started at her right breast, covering the nipple without disguising the shape of her areola. It crossed over to her left breast, wound around her back to reappear at her tapered waist. From there, it draped between her legs, hiding the cleft of her smooth sex.
Israla’s skin glistened pale bronze. The fur that topped her head was the natural olive of the Plasian. It snapped back and forth in agitation, like blades of grass in a hurricane. As she drew close Rajhir detected a musky aroma, much like the perfume of Amelia’s sex. His heart lurched, remembering that mysterious scent surrounding him when he’d knelt between his Earther Matara’s thighs to bury his face in the honeyed sweetness of her.
That memory instead of Israla’s appearance made him ache. Rajhir hungered for Amelia’s flesh only. His bow to the Saucin consisted of complete respect.
“Saucin, I thank you for your help in recovering my clan’s Matara.”
Grimness lined Israla’s otherwise perfect features. “This taking of Amelia Ryan is a great tragedy for Plasius as well as Kalquor. The honor she bestowed upon my world with her incomparable art is beyond measure. I will not see her so brutally treated.”
Flencik’s face paled. “Has she been hurt?”
Israla’s frown grew deeper. “You do not need to worry over a few bruises that do not threaten her life. That is all the description I will give you. To tell you more will invite mindless anger. Right now, all your concentration for her safe release is desperately needed.” She took a deep breath as if to steady herself.
“Then her injuries are not life threatening,” Rajhir said.
“Despite being badly treated, she did walk on her own from the shuttle to the Earthers’ ship. They drove her under the threat of weapons.”
“Her spirit may have been damaged,” Flencik whispered. His face contorted in agony.
Israla nodded. “She wept. To face such intimidation might result in emotional harm. This concerns me more than superficial physical injury, which is easily healed. You must find a way to free her.”
Breft growled low in his throat. “I’ll free her and destroy anyone who gets in the way.”
Rajhir gripped the Nobek’s tensed shoulder in warning. “Our mission is to reclaim Amelia, not to exact revenge on her captors though they no doubt deserve it.” He turned his attention back to Israla. “We must distract the Earthers so that Breft can rescue her.”
Israla’s eyes flicked toward the youngest member of the clan. “Will it be difficult to move around their transport?”
Breft said, “Your scanners gave me an excellent view of their ship’s weaknesses. I’ve studied the vessel thoroughly. I’m confident that once I am inside the transport, I can move about the venting system undetected.”
A smile eased Israla’s face. “The trick is to keep the Earthers busy enough to allow you onto their transport and escape with Amelia. Keeping them here on the planet is not a problem. Their General Croft learned upon his return that a stasis field holds their ship in place.”
“I’m sure he’s less than happy about that,” Rajhir said.
“He demanded a meeting, but I am delaying it until we are ready. My most pressing concern is his lack of patience. If you fail to recover Amelia, we must try to wait until your destroyers and troops arrive.”
“Do you think your stasis field will hold?” Breft asked.
“Not even a Nobek of your skills could find a way to break out of it.” Israla allowed herself a confident smirk, which faded quickly. “But it only impedes the transport, not people. The Earthers can move about our city at will. They are heavily armed, and we are not. I fear more Plasians will be endangered.”
Rajhir drew a heavy breath. “Our need is placing your people in jeopardy.”
“No.” A hard light filled her black marble eyes. “The Earthers’ violent tyranny places my people in danger. I will not be swayed by threats.”
“No matter how this turns out, we can never repay your kindness and bravery,” Flencik said.
Israla suddenly smiled, her look filled with deviltry. “We will all do what we must to regain your Matara. I trust you can be threatening enough to hold the soldiers’ attention?”
Rajhir snarled, displaying his fangs. Flencik followed suit, flexing his sizeable muscles so they stood out corded. Though the Imdiko was the most harmless Kalquorian Rajhir had ever known, he at least had no trouble looking intimidating. Still, Flencik would be in grave danger when they faced off with the Earthers. Without Breft at their side, Rajhir would have to be watchful and ready to protect his huge but gentle clanmate.
The Saucin caught her breath at the demonstration. Her eyes widened. She’d only seen Rajhir as a diplomat or in the throes of passion. The delectable Plasian female had probably never been looked at by any Kalquorian male with anything but lust. The Dramok saw her shock as she realized how alarming an angry member of his race could be.
Israla recovered quickly. “Very frightening, Dramok and Imdiko. The Earthers would be fools not to take such a demonstration seriously. However, if some are so stupid as to not pay attention to you, perhaps they will look at me.” She ran her palm over her exposed left side, the temptress in her very much evident.
A bitter smile creased Rajhir’s lips. “We may well be invisible to the Earthers when their eyes can feast upon you.”
She chuckled with a born flirt’s delight. “Whoever does not possess the sense to be tamed by fear may still be tamed with desire.”
Chapter 20
Amelia froze in the doorway of Doctor Joyner’s examination room.
A metal table dominated the middle of the space. It was equipped with the stirrups she’d seen dozens of times in her own gynecologist’s office. Unfortunately, the benign references to a normal medical facility ended there.
Heavy black leather straps hung from the sides of the table. They wavered inches from the floor. They looked like a spider’s trembling legs anticipating wrapping themselves around their victim. Straps attached on the stirrups too. Even a smaller set at the other end of the table lay in wait for her, apparently put there to restrain the patient’s head.
On the far side of the table stood an array of computers, monitors, scanners, and machines as forbidding as a panel of judges. Even worse, a table held surgical instruments lined up with military precision. Steel gleamed in the bald glare of the light. The blinding light sapped the room of all color, bleaching everything gray.
Amelia stood at the threshold of a torture chamber.
One of the soldiers behind Amelia shoved her into the room. She wheeled around to see the guards close and lock the door and flank each side of it. They pointed their guns at her.
“Remove your clothing,” Dr. Joyner said.
She looked at him, at the people around her. A female nurse, still well in the grip of youth’s beauty, stood in a corner. Amelia had missed noticing her when she first entered. The white-garbed woman stared back, swallowed hard, and stepped forward to address Joyner. “Doctor, shouldn’t these gentlemen leave the room? Regulations state that no men not part of a medical team can be allowed to view a woman’
s nudity.”
“This woman is dangerous,” Croft snarled at the bold nurse. “We’re not going anywhere until I know she’s properly restrained.”
“That girl doesn’t look very dangerous. Regulations are very clear on the matter,” the nurse insisted. She frowned.
“Attend to your duties, Miss McInness,” Joyner snapped, his face a thundercloud of sudden anger. “We are well aware of the regulations.”
The brunette’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together as if she struggled to hold in more argument. In the end, she bowed her head and fell quiet. Brief hope for a sympathetic ally flared and died in Amelia’s breast.
To Amelia the doctor said, “Remove your clothing, or I’ll have the soldiers remove it for you.”
Terror’s paralysis left Amelia as rage swept through her. They had condemned her as a criminal, treated her like a disease, and now they wanted to rob her of her dignity. And why? Because she’d fallen in love with members of a race her government feared and hated. Because she carried a life that, despite its innocence of any wrongdoing, they despised and reviled. Instead of relying on facts, they’d judged her on the basis of stupidity and bigotry.
She was done with marching to the guillotine quietly.
Amelia, whose posture had been that of a cowering dog, straightened. “I will not submit to this. I have my rights, rights you can’t take away on a whim!” She looked back and forth between Croft and Joyner. “I refuse to cooperate any further until I have legal representation.”
Croft’s face turned eggplant purple. He roared one word that made the nurse yelp in terror. “Strip!”
“NO!” Amelia shrieked back. Her hands bunched into fists. “I am not the enemy, and I’m not a traitor! Stop treating me like a criminal!”
Croft glanced at his soldiers. A snarl twisted his face. “If she doesn’t take her clothes off by the time I count to five, shoot her. One … two…”
“Don’t be a ridiculous ass, you fool,” Joyner said, cutting Croft off. The general, not used to being ordered around, gaped at him. He seemed too stunned to move.
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