He held it up to her seconds later, and she blinked at it, stunned into silence by the writing she saw on the front, in strangely neat English.
Sound only. They have no visual, it read.
Jet stared at the words, then at him, still holding the sword over her head.
She didn’t move as wrote something else on the glowing screen.
She felt her brow wrinkle, her fingers tighten painfully on the sword’s hilt as she stood there, waiting.
He held up the screen again.
They have him in custody. One of the outposts. Near your old district. Unharmed so far.
He bent over, scribbling again.
Your uncle, too. Draven. And his wife, Sarah. Your friend, Mishio.
Jet felt a cold pain start somewhere in the region of her navel.
You can’t trust him, Trazen showed her next. Richter. He won’t tolerate the prince going against him for long. He already sees you as a threat.
He was bending over the screen again, when Jet heard the door open behind her.
“Jet!” a familiar voice growled, colder than she’d ever heard it. “Jet! Stop this. Now.”
Jet stood there, fighting to breathe, to think, still staring at Trazen.
Her mind tilted, whirling in confusion as his expression slid back into that smug, predatory look she more easily recognized. His monitor had magicked itself back around his dark wrist. His oddly-sharp, disconcertingly handsome face held nothing of the urgency she’d seen in it only seconds before.
Conversely, he winked at her in the pause, coiling his tail in a sensual arc behind his back as he stared deliberately at her body.
The voice behind her grew more threatening, still speaking English.
“Jet!” it repeated. “Put down the sword! Now!”
Jet continued to stare at Trazen, lost in the difference she could see in his face, trying to stare past it to what she’d glimpsed in those few seconds.
“Now, Jet!” the Nirreth behind her hissed. “Put down the sword, or I will be forced to let them subdue you. You won’t enjoy it.”
That time, Trazen cut him off, giving a dismissive wave of one hand.
“It is all right, Honorable First Son,” Trazen drawled, giving Jet another of those faint smiles. “No need to ‘subdue’ anyone. I quite like aggressive females, whatever your companion seems to believe. She can attempt to skewer me with her little knife, if she so desires…”
That time, Jet heard real anger reach Laksri’s voice.
“Silence, vermin.” His voice dropped to a real threat. “You have already broken the law, Ringmaster Trazen. I will deal with you separately in this.”
Trazen’s smile crept wider.
He trained it on Jet, letting his eyes slide down the torn sense-suit.
“Of course, Honorable Prince. No need to scold your plaything, however. I don’t mind a little blood. I could only have enjoyed it more, in fact, had she come without clothes…”
Jet lowered the sword, still staring at Trazen’s face.
He smiled at her, that predatory glint sharpening in his eyes, unapologetic now, bordering on a leer as he flicked his tail in another sensual arc behind his back.
She didn’t see so much as a hint of the Nirreth she’d been talking to before.
14
The Truth About Richter
“Do I really need to explain this to you?” Jet snapped. “What part of my actions were unclear? Or are you really such a child that you would think that I was flirting with the son of a bitch, by threatening to cut off his head?”
Laksri’s eyes hardened to smoked glass.
Richter spoke before he could answer.
“Jet, calm down––”
“Bite me, Richter. And stay out of this.”
Richter sighed, leaning back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table next to where he lounged, watching a small swarm of attendants work around her. Before Jet could go on, Richter glanced pointedly at the attendant who hovered over her, unlocking the snaps on the black form-fitting sense-suit she wore, or what remained of it.
The metallic fabric was still pretty much glued to her body with sweat, blood and burns from the hits she’d sustained during her run.
Jet stared at the blank faces of the Nirreth working over her, but found it difficult to give a damn. Trust Richter to pick now, of all times, to go all secretive again.
She strongly suspected it didn’t matter what the attendants heard, that Richter was just trying to shut her up.
The damned television crews had already broadcast gleeful reports about her barging into the control room to threaten Trazen. They already knew he’d used a virtual rendering of her brother as the “hostage” in the run, too.
None of them could be all that surprised she’d reacted the way she had.
No way could the average Nirreth be stupid enough to think it wouldn’t bother her, that they’d threatened her with her own brother.
Especially given what Trazen had done to her already.
Folding her arms, Jet turned her glare back on Laksri, who stood against the far wall, not looking at either of them. She had to restrain herself from walking up to him, maybe punching him in the face.
“What do you think, Laks?” she said, her voice brittle.
She waited a beat, her mouth hard when he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Are you okay with what he did? That he’s threatening my family now, as part of his little tit for tat between the two of you?”
“We do not know that this is what he is doing, Jet––” Richter began.
“The hell we don’t!” she snapped, turning. “How could that not be a message!”
“I did not say it wasn’t a message,” Richter said, his voice a few shades colder.
“So what do you think this ‘message’ is saying?” she said.
Rather than addressing the question to Richter alone, Jet turned back to Laksri, who continued to avoid her eyes.
She wanted to believe she didn’t care how he answered, but she watched his face minutely. She couldn’t help seeing the way his eyes slid away from hers, just like a human’s might have done, right before they told a lie.
Remembering the message Trazen wrote on his monitor, Jet had to bite her tongue to keep from accusing all of them… but something told her that wouldn’t be a good idea, either.
“So should I do what you do?” she said, looking between them. “Act like it’s no big deal? I’m supposed to just not care that lizard-skin sadist knows I have a brother? Knows what Biggs looks like?”
As she said the words, Jet felt her throat close.
“Does he have him already, Laks?” she said. “He does, doesn’t he? How else could he possibly know what he looks like?”
“Jet,” Laksri said. “You are going too far with this.”
Her jaw hardened more.
Biting back another surge of rage, she killed it, forcing her voice calm, realizing suddenly that she had nothing with either of them, no leverage at all. She had nothing but what she could persuade them to do.
She calmed her voice.
“Fine.” She stared between him and Richter. “Can we check on him, at least? Biggs? See if he’s still in the pits? You have spies there, don’t you?” That last she aimed at Richter. She kept her voice utterly flat. “Just see if he and my mom are all right. I will pay you to do it, if it inconveniences you. I have credits now. From the Rings.”
Richter gave her an irritated look, making a non-committal gesture with one hand.
“Why would he take your brother, Jet? Does that even make sense?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Keeping her voice level with an effort, she added, “You said it yourself. Trazen likes to play games. You warned me he would use anything he could for leverage.”
“A human skag would mean nothing to him.”
She fought to breathe, to keep her heart rate under control, her voice.
“Where would he be holding him, if he h
ad him?” she said.
“Jet!” Laksri warned.
She turned with an effort, tearing her eyes off Richter to focus on the tall Nirreth.
If Trazen was telling the truth, they were both lying to her right now.
If Trazen was lying, he probably had Biggs himself.
The problem was, there was no way to know which of them she could remotely trust. Richter might refuse to check on Biggs and her mom just to be an ass. Or he might say he was checking on them just to get her to drop it.
Or he might have Biggs already, in some holding cell in a remote area of what had been central Canada.
There was no way to know.
There was no damned way to know.
“We’ll talk about it during your training,” Laksri said, that edge prominent in his voice.
She knew what he meant. He meant when he could sting her, and she could feel the information through him, versus them speaking aloud.
“…In the meantime,” Laksri added. “You are the winner of this match. You must go to the celebratory session.” His jaw tightened, right before he glanced at Richter. “…It is expected.”
Jet understood the meaning behind that, too.
Trazen would be there.
Even Laksri couldn’t ban the Rings Operator from his own party.
Richter gave an irritated snort.
“Lord Almighty, the drama,” he said mockingly. “What the hell are you even complaining about, kitten? You won the match. Hell, you creamed that sucker, despite all the crap they threw at you. That was probably your best run since the first one. The crowd positively ate it up! If anything, the personal connection between the two of you only made it that much more successful…”
“Successful?” Jet stared at him, speechless.
Fighting not to speak, she lost the battle a few second later.
“You see it as a bonus that they used my brother on there? What’s next, Richter? Saving my mother from a gang rape?”
“That’s not the personal connection I meant, kitten,” Richter said, lifting an eyebrow.
Jet felt her anger grow colder, even as she saw Laksri turn, his long face growing stone-still as he stared at Richter, his lips thinned in a near growl.
He didn’t move, however, or make an audible sound from where he stood by the wall.
“They think he’s toying with you, kitten,” Richter added. “Winding you up through the passionate venom-connection between you. To them it’s borderline foreplay… so yes, it adds to the vicarious thrill for horny, Nirreth plebes. Hell, from the way you two are acting, I’m beginning to think they’re not wrong…”
That time, Lakrsi did growl.
Richter barely spared him a glance.
“Did you really think Trazen wouldn’t capitalize on that?” the rebel leader said disparagingly. “That he would waste any opportunity to whip up the crowd? Grow up, Jet.”
“Grow up?” She felt her jaw harden to granite. “Are you serious?”
“It wasn’t your real brother,” Richter said, shrugging.
Jet bit her lip again, then met his gaze.
“How the hell would you know that?” she said, speaking before she let herself think. “Something you’re not telling me, Richter?”
She saw Laksri react, starting faintly before he stared at her. Jet found herself wishing she hadn’t said it when she saw him frown, right before he turned that penetrating stare on Richter.
Before she could try to soften her words, Richter broke the silence.
“It wasn’t him,” Richter said, letting his hands fall to the armrests with an irritated eye-roll. “We were on the outside, remember? We have views to both the regular arena and the virtual. It wasn’t Biggs, Jet.”
“Trazen had to get the image from somewhere.”
“They have records of you, kitten,” Richter said, his voice edging back into impatience. “They created security profiles, remember? Trazen has access to all of that as Ringmaster and more. He probably knows more about your family than you do. Hell, he probably knows more than I do.”
His voice still irritated, Richter raised his hand in another dismissive gesture.
“You’re making too much of this, kitten. The Nirreth love their families, too. He did it for the emotional tug, nothing more. It was a cheap ploy, but an effective one. Trazen had every Nirreth in the stadium on their feet with that little stunt.”
“Really?” she spat, hands shaking. “I got applause because Trazen threatened to kill my family? Well, why didn’t you say so? That makes it all better––”
“Jet,” he said, giving her a warning stare. “It’s fine. Relax.”
She bit back another retort, wincing in pain and glancing at one of the attendants when they jerked the last of the sense-suit off her ankles.
She winced again when another of them started probing the cut on her leg, cleaning it with a hot, wet cloth.
“The guy’s a psychopath,” she muttered in English, glancing again at Laksri. “You’re the ones who’ve been telling me that all along.”
Still fighting a colder anger that seemed to come from under her very skin, Jet struggled to control herself, looking between the two of them.
“Are you both really going to pretend this is just some dramatic twist to boost viewership before I start taking challenge matches?”
“I’m not going to pretend anything, Jet,” Richter said.
He rose abruptly to his feet, his face darkening with an anger that now matched hers.
“Now shut up, you dumb little girl… this instant. If you don’t, I’ll have Laks here sting you until you can control yourself.”
Jet’s whole body grew utterly still.
First with shock, then with something else.
Anger. But more than that, really.
Hatred didn’t even cover it.
Staring up at him, she let him see the open challenge in her eyes.
More than that, she let him see her willingness to take him on. Really take him on, whatever the consequences.
No matter what it cost her in the end.
She held Richter’s gaze, and he seemed to see that difference in her, too.
He didn’t back down, but she saw understanding bleed into those coffee-brown irises, which suddenly looked colder than she’d ever seen them. They faced one another, neither flinching, neither looking away, and Jet found herself thinking maybe they’d finally really seen one another.
Maybe for the first time.
Feeling the danger behind that knowledge, Jet made herself be the first one to look away.
Forcing herself to swallow, she stared down at the floor, fighting to make her face into an expression Richter would be less likely to see as a threat. Still, she couldn’t un-see what she’d seen. She might have known, somewhere, what Richter really was, but having it confirmed was something else.
Whatever he told himself, she was nothing to him.
All that mattered to Richter was his cause.
His vengeance or idealism, or however he termed it inside his own head, mattered to him more than anyone or anything. Everything he did was in service of that. Everything. He valued it over his own life. Over Jet’s life. Over her family’s. Over his own family’s… over Anaze.
She wondered if there was anything Richter wouldn’t do to get what he wanted.
“Get out of here,” she said, in a low voice. “Both of you.”
There was a silence.
In it, Richter straightened, stepping back from where Jet sat.
Staring at her warily for a few beats, he paused only to glance at Laksri.
The Nirreth had already taken his weight off the wall.
Without looking at either of them, Laksri walked to the door, his tail coiled behind his back, as if he’d tensed every muscle in the sinewy appendage, preventing it from moving. Jet couldn’t tell anything about his state of mind from the expression on his face, nor did she really care.
Laksri had already disappeared thr
ough the door’s opening when Richter looked at her, his coffee-colored eyes wary.
Then his expression changed again, growing almost worried.
“Look, kitten…” he began.
“Just go, Richter.” She kept her voice flat, not letting herself quite meet his gaze. “Please. We’ll talk about it in training, like Laks said.”
She didn’t watch him go.
Wincing as the woman took the top half of the sense-suit down over her shoulder, on the same side where Jet banged it against the jagged wall of that underground canal, she trained her eyes on the floor.
When the pain worsened, she only gritted her teeth, glancing briefly at the bruise already darkening her flesh as the attendant yanked the material down, exposing the tank top sweated to Jet’s chest and back. The other female attendant still knelt on the floor under the bench, swiping Jet’s foot with antiseptic as she continued to clean it. The medicine didn’t sting so much as burn, clenching Jet’s jaw hard enough to hurt her face.
She heard the door close behind Richter’s retreating form, but she didn’t watch that, either.
It wasn’t until both of them were completely gone that Jet’s eyes closed.
A tightness in her chest felt like it slowly strangled her.
She couldn’t breathe, but she also couldn’t let it go.
They’d taken her brother.
They’d taken Biggs.
She didn’t know who had him, but she knew without a doubt someone had him, and probably the rest of her family, too.
She also knew something else.
Before this was over, she might have to kill Richter.
15
A Real Sky
Jet sat on a padded chair––a chair that appeared to be part of the same heavy piece of metal as the deck floor on which it lived.
Despite the speed they were currently traveling, her physical body barely moved.
The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure Page 59