by Ivy Barrett
Having noticed the silent exchange, Ram shot Moxtel a sidelong glance. “Should we come back when they’ve finished mocking me, or should I just tell them to get the fuck out?”
“I apologize,” Vikrin said, though his bored tone belied his words. “The Ventori are continually posturing. I was hoping for honest communication without all the dramatics.” Before Ram could react to the insult, Vikrin went on, “The Yashonty, like the Ventori, have been locked in a defensive role ever since this war began. You have the potential opportunity to go on the offensive, but the mission is impossible without our help. We do not share your need to slaughter the enemy.” He looked at Belton. “Our fallen do not require blood to transcend. So at present, there is nothing in this deal for us.”
“Then name your terms,” Ram snapped. “What do you want from me?”
“A planet or inhabitable moon where we can relocate,” Vikrin stated firmly as if it were the simplest request in the universe. “It can be relatively primitive, but a temperate climate is preferred.”
“Our planet was destroyed like everyone else’s. How do you expect me to provide you with a readymade relocation site?”
Vikrin shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about readymade. Our needs are simple, and we’re not afraid of hard work. Even before you were dragged into this pointless war, your people traded with hundreds of other species. Find one willing to give, or even lease us land on which we can build a Tavorian settlement. As I said, it can be a wilderness. We prefer seclusion so some remote location that no one else wants would be perfect for our needs. Surely, such a place cannot be that hard to find.”
“What’s wrong with Earth?” Ram glared, all attempts at civility gone.
“The only areas of Earth not decimated by the Skarilians have been claimed by humans or the Ventori. They expect us to integrate with their populations, have even proposed interspecies mating, which we find insulting.” His chin lifted as he shook his head. “New Tavor cannot be on Earth.”
Ram pushed to his feet and paced the small living area. Conflict always filled him with kinetic energy. “This could take some time. Are you willing to form the mega-gate while I’m looking for this secluded paradise?”
“We have debated the possibilities at length,” Vikrin told him, sounding thoughtful rather than arrogant for the first time since the conversation began. “Once we open the mega-gate, one of two things is likely to happen. Your mission succeeds greatly weakening the Skarilians, or it backfires, and the Skarilians become more aggressive than ever before. In either event, your motivation for finding us a planet is gone.”
Pausing in front of the Tavorian, Ram frowned down at him. “I cannot wait. It could take weeks, even months to find a location you’ll approve and secure an agreement with whoever controls it. We must attack as soon as possible.”
“I’m aware, and the next element of my proposal addresses it.”
Ram paused and locked his hands behind his back. He appeared calm, but Moxtel knew better. If Vikrin didn’t get to the point quickly, this was going to turn physical. “By all means, continue.”
“Like the Ventori, your people—”
“Stop comparing us to the godsdamn Ventori!” Ram flared, taking several quick steps away from the gatekeeper. “I find it insulting.”
Without reacting to Ram’s outburst, Vikrin explained, “Your culture requires that you annihilate your enemies, but this war has left you with another crisis. You desperately need genetically compatible females.”
Moxtel stilled, as did Ram and Belton. Every Yashonty male knew his chances of attracting a mate vanished as soon as he joined the rebellion. Life-bringers needed their males alive and nearby. The vast majority had already chosen their protectors. And comfort-givers were meant to be shared, which left most males with the temporary pleasure of a body-slave. The pasty fucker had chosen his strategy well.
“I was under the impression that Tavorian females can only breed with Tavorian males.” Ram said what all three Yashonty were thinking.
“I was not offering our females.” He made a face then shuddered. “The Ventori have developed a procedure by which human females can be genetically recoded to be compatible with any species they choose.”
“What exactly are you offering?” Ram demanded, obviously tired of Vikrin’s attitude as well as his evasiveness.
“I have the procedure and the formula needed to trigger the controlled mutation. My science officer has agreed to modify the code for Yashonty compatibility. All this will be delivered to you only after a relocation site has been secured.”
Ram paused for a long moment, pacing in silence, then he faced Vikrin. “Just so there is no confusion, this is the offer as I understand it. You will open the mega-gate now, allowing us to kill the Skarilians. Then once I’ve found you a place to build your settlement, you will provide us with everything we need to create genetically compatible females. Is that correct?”
Vikrin nodded once, looking rather grim. “That is the proposal.”
With an impatient chuckle, Ram shook his head. “Instead of you trusting me to keep my word, this forces me to accept your word that any of this is true. You’re promising something that doesn’t even exist right now.”
“The Ventori procedure exists,” Vikrin pointed out. “And it has been tested successfully. One of the recoded humans has already conceived a Ventori child.”
Ram waved away the point. “That doesn’t ensure that it will work with the Yashonty. Regardless of how similar you find us, we are not the same.”
“Altering the code shouldn’t be that difficult,” the scientist assured Ram. “All I need is access to information about Yashonty genetics, or better yet a Yashonty geneticist familiar with recoding. Working together, we should be able to alter the process in a matter of weeks.”
Ram looked at Moxtel. “Is any of this possible?”
“I’d need to see the data.” He’d been fascinated by the concept and had been trying for weeks to get his hands on specific information about the procedure. Still, he tried not to sound too enthusiastic.
“I can provide you with enough of the code to allow you to judge its validity,” Vikrin said. “Certain key sections will need to be omitted, of course.”
“Of course,” Ram grumbled. “Give my first officer a few days to analyze the data, and I’ll contact you with my decision.”
The Tavorians stood as one. Moxtel rolled his eyes as he stood. Did they practice the maneuver to get it that perfectly synchronized?
“Please stand back,” Vikrin warned with a subtle smirk.
Gods of Destruction, he disliked this jerk.
Belton hurried out of the way, and Ram moved to one side. Moxtel took his time about it but joined the others near the bedroom door. Vikrin stood slightly in front of the other two as he puffed out his chest and cycled through a series of elaborate hand gestures. Belton’s eyes widened, but Moxtel just shook his head. The gatekeeper on the vidfile made a simple sweep up and down with one hand and the portal appeared. These theatrics were for their benefit, and he was not impressed. The portal itself, however, was awe-inspiring. Moxtel held his breath and squinted into the flickering light until the Tavorians stepped through and the inexplicable opening sealed behind them.
“I will never get used to that,” Ram muttered, the room seeming unnaturally quiet without the roar of the portal.
Belton shook away his stupefaction and looked at Ram. “I’d never met a Tavorian before. Are they all... like that?”
Ram shrugged, still looking contemplative. “Every Tavorian refugee expects Vikrin to work a miracle. He’s under a lot of pressure.”
Moxtel smiled at Belton. Ram was the last person Moxtel expected to defend the prime gatekeeper, but in hindsight the reaction was understandable. Ram was under the same pressure. “Comm me when they transmit the data. I’ll analyze it in my quarters.”
“Like hells you will,” Ram said emphatically. “Use the science lab. You’re both locked o
ut of that cabin until your shift ends. We’re in crisis mode. Your pretty human will have to wait. You each have too much to do.”
* * *
When Lorna woke up, she was alone in the bedroom, and someone had covered her with a blanket. She vaguely remembered Belton slipping into bed with her, but he’d done nothing more than wrap his arms around her while she slept. She cautiously rolled to her back and found the soreness in her bottom completely gone. Surprised, yet oddly disappointed, she crawled off the bed and dashed into the bathroom.
After using the facilities, she washed her hands and face but hesitated to clean anywhere else. She wasn’t afraid of the potential punishment. She didn’t want to disappoint Moxtel or Belton. The realization surprised her. Why should she care about the feelings of her captors? They weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t even lovers, not really. She was undercover, on a mission, yet it felt so real. Was this Stockholm syndrome already?
She shook away the disconcerting thoughts as she wrapped herself in the blanket and stepped out of the bathroom. Her captors left the doorway open, so she was obviously allowed to wander around in the entire cabin. The living room was empty as well, but they’d laid out breakfast and the Yashonty version of a bathrobe. She slipped on the simple garment then tossed the blanket back into the bedroom. The robe’s silky material didn’t leave anything to the imagination. At least her hands were free.
The first order of business, update Celeste. Hopefully, she’d be pleased with Lorna’s progress. She didn’t yet have an exact location, but she’d learned some important facts that she was anxious to pass on. She’d stashed the booster in a compartment above the workstation. The compartment had been empty, didn’t look as if it had ever been used. She quickly retrieved the device from its hiding place and crossed to the table.
She sat so it would look as if she was eating if either of the males returned. The booster unit also had an electronic transmitter, but the neuro-signals created by the nano-bots were harder to detect. She’d only use the auxiliary transmitter if the neuro-signals failed to penetrate the ship’s shields. She took a moment to organize her thoughts. Neuro communication worked best in quick, succinct bursts, and it appeared like random surges of energy to most sensors. The booster could detect whether or not the transmission got out, but she had no way of knowing if the information was received by Celeste.
Refusing to dwell on something she couldn’t change, she activated the device with a swipe of her thumb and quickly sent a series of neuro bursts. It took a moment to find her rhythm, to work with the nano-bots instead of struggling against them. All of her integrated tech had been deactivated when she left the FBI, but she was familiar with the technology.
Once the update was complete, and she was confident that it got through the shields, she deactivated the signal booster and whispered a prayer that the information would make it all the way to Celeste. Then she quickly returned the small device to its hiding place above the workstation. Her heart thudded in her chest as she silently waited, dreading the sound of pounding boots and angry voices in the corridor. Several seconds passed as she walked back to the table and sat. If the Yashonty detected the transmission, they would respond immediately, probably hoping to catch her in the act. A minute passed and then ten as she watched and listened for any sign that she’d been caught.
Nothing happened, so she gradually relaxed, releasing her tension with a long, measured exhale. Step two of her mission was complete. She’d transmitted useable intel to Celeste, bringing them one step closer to Brianne’s rescue.
Lorna had eaten very little the day before, so she turned her attention to the food tray. Nothing looked familiar. Still, she tried several of the offered items even though they all looked odd. There was another dish of the small fruits she had enjoyed the day before, and the braided twists tasted almost like rye bread. Not her favorite, but palatable.
She had just about eaten her fill when Tarn arrived, letting herself in as she had the day before. Lorna’s heart missed a beat when the door opened, but she was thrilled that it was Tarn rather than one of the males. Yet Tarn’s expression was openly hostile and she said nothing as she collected the remains of Lorna’s breakfast.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked as the tense silence lengthened.
“At least the other humans attacked directly,” the Yashonty snapped. “You stabbed me in the back.”
“What are you talking about?” Oh, shit. “Did Moxtel tell your master that you—”
“I have never spoken Magister Lark’s first name, much less shared it with a slave. Why did you tell him I had?” Now she looked hurt as well as angry. “I was kind to you, and this is how you repay me?”
“I panicked. I had to explain something that... It doesn’t matter why I did it. It was wrong, and I’ll tell him that you’re innocent. Did he tell your master or confront you himself? How much trouble are you in?”
Tarn tucked her hair behind her ear and squared her shoulders. “Luckily, Master Noj is indulgent. My punishment was mild. I just don’t like being disciplined for things I did not do.”
“I am really sorry.” What else could she say? She wasn’t usually so quick to throw anyone under the bus, much less someone she was trying to befriend.
They stared at each other for another tense moment then Tarn said, “I was told to show you how to use the sonic shower. I see you found the gown.”
Gown? She wasn’t sure the garment deserved the name, but she was glad to have it. “Moxtel told you I could shower?”
Tarn shook her head. “You must break yourself of that habit. Using your master’s name is a rare privilege. It must be earned.”
“Thanks for the warning. Humans aren’t used to... well, being slaves.”
Without comment, Tarn led her to the bathroom but didn’t step inside. “The pulses are more effective if you’re naked, but they can also be used to clean garments that you’ve worn for more than one day. This morning I suggest you take off the gown and stand in the center of the room. The system responds to verbal commands, so there are no controls. It runs a three-phase cycle, so don’t leave until you feel the flash of heat.”
“Got it.”
Tarn taught her the Yashonty phrases needed to activate and deactivate the system. “There are several options, but this will get you started. The sensations are intense, but you’ll grow accustomed to them. The entire cycle only takes three of your minutes. Even if you find it unpleasant, it will be over quickly.”
Lorna nodded, saddened that her careless impulse had caused this awkwardness. “Is there some way I can make things right? I really want to try.”
Tarn waved away her concern. “It’s over. Forgotten. Enjoy your shower.” She left without a backward glance and Lorna suspected she would never see her again.
Frustrated and disappointed in herself, she slipped out of the robe and activated the shower. The soundwaves passed through her body, vibrating every muscle and organ simultaneously. It wasn’t painful, just startling and strange. By the time she’d adjusted to the odd sensations, the cycle was over. She put the robe back on and stepped out of the bathroom.
Not yet ready to think about what awaited her on the beds or in the training room, she returned to the living room, hoping to find some sort of distraction. She’d barely entered when the door rolled upward and both her captors stormed into the cabin.
“Where is the communications device?” Moxtel demanded, his expression thunderous.
Lorna froze, icy dread inundating her senses. This day had just gone from bad to worse.
Chapter Five
“Our communications officer detected your transmission,” Belton told Lorna. The fierce scowl on his rugged features made him look even meaner than usual, but she saw the ever-present echo of pain in his eyes.
Moxtel stood on Belton’s right, arms crossed over his chest. The cabin, which wasn’t that big to begin with, seemed to shrink as their big bodies and obvious anger sucked all the oxygen out
of the room. Lorna’s only hope was convincing them she had no idea what they meant, so she opened her mouth prepared for the performance of a lifetime.
“Do not lie to us!” Moxtel snarled out the command. “It took some time to isolate the exact location, but we know it was you.”
Shit! Frantically scrambling for a believable explanation, Lorna looked from one to the other. Then calm determination settled over her soul. If Moxtel wanted the truth, by God, she’d give it to him. “What the fuck do you expect, Master? American females have been fighting for generations for the freedom to make our own decisions, to be treated with respect. We are not meant to be, nor will we tolerate being treated like slaves.”
She was so focused on Moxtel that Belton caught her by surprise. He ripped the robe from her body and pushed her to her knees, not giving her time to struggle. Then he fisted the back of her hair. “This is not America, and we are not human. Now apologize to my cousin for being disrespectful. I will not be dishonored by my body-slave.”
Staring straight ahead, she kept her mouth shut, teeth tightly clenched. Anything she said right now would make the situation worse. She was too angry to play her part convincingly.
“We’ll deal with her attitude later,” Moxtel said, his voice quiet but cold. “She must be questioned.”
Tightening his fingers until her scalp burned, Belton pulled her head back and glared into her eyes. “You will answer our questions, and your answers will be respectful. Do you understand me?”
For one rebellious moment, she refused to answer. Then self-preservation kicked in, and she thought about her mission. If she were incapacitated, Celeste would have no hope of rescuing the others. She could not indulge her temper while so many human females were enslaved. “Yes, Sir.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.