Unexpected Hostage (Unexpected Series Book 1)

by Layla Stone

  Unexpected Hostage

  Unexpected Series: Book 1

  By

  Layla Stone

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2018 Layla Stone. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Prompt Penworks

  ISBN-13: 9780996704175

  Cover design by Croco Designs

  Dedication:

  To my brother Devon.

  Thank you for all the great stories about Teddy.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  2nd Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The Cerebral

  Sci flinched when he saw a figure standing next to him as if he had been there for some time, but the male’s mind was quiet. Sci’s telepathy wasn’t picking up any of his conscious thoughts. It was as if there were a void in the air.

  Sci was used to a steady stream of consciousness. There was always a hum of noise. Now, nothing.

  The male looming over him, holding out a small, metallic object, studied him with a pair of dark brown eyes. “Good, You’re awake. I’m Ansel, a medical officer for the Federation.” Ansel tilted the object in his hand and spread his fingernails face forward.

  Purple fingernails.

  According to the Cerebral archives, which Sci worked in back on his planet, purple fingernails were found only in one race. Numans.

  Numans were an unmerciful race of scientists that experimented on everything and anything in their pursuit of knowledge. In several books he read, they had tortured their specimens, altered them, then would sell them to specialized buyers.

  They were known to hide within Federation space in ships redesigned into giant labs. They had no home planet. The one they had, Dilex, had become an unlivable toxic waste. Years of chemical warfare killed the majority of their population.

  When Sci was young he always hoped to meet another race, but he never wanted to meet this one.

  “Yes, I’m a Numan. I can see by your expression you know what that is. And it’s true, my race has been very cruel to all species over the years. However, I am the only Numan who is a Federation officer. Which means, I must follow proper protocols. Specifically when dealing with hostile species from the OutWorlds.”

  Hostile? Sci’s race was known for being harmonious. With themselves, at least.

  Sci attempted to sit up. His shoulders and chest elevated a fraction of an inch, but his wrists were secured to the slat he was lying on, preventing additional movement. He pulled harder, not because he thought he could free himself, but because something within him, an urgency, a need to be free, propelled his actions. He struggled in vain, tugging his limbs in random directions.

  Beside him, the Numan said, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  Sci tried to connect with the Numan’s body. He imagined Ansel flying through the air into the far wall. To his dismay, the Numan didn’t move an inch.

  He tried again. Nothing.

  This time, Sci tried to send out a conscious wave of energy, something that should have sent the Numan, and everything within the room, flying back against the far wall.

  Once again, his ability failed him. He lost his composure and growled as he flailed relentlessly against the restraints. “Let me free. Now!” He could feel the metal digging into his wrists and ankles. The rawness and sensitivity of the wounds seared like fire through his limbs, but he wanted freedom more than he wanted his skin intact.

  The air felt constricting. The room was small with compartments of medical supplies held by translucent shelves.

  “I can’t let you go. I have to follow the Federation protocols.”

  Confused, Sci tried to remember the Federation protocols about Cerebrals. He was sure he had read them, but the knowledge refused to surface. Sci felt something cold and wet on his heel. “Stop.” The Numan didn’t stop, he held the top of Sci’s bare foot, keeping steady.

  The cold, steely fingers felt like a violation. Urgingly, Sci said, “Don’t touch me, Numan. It is not our way to touch freely.” His chest constricted, and his breathing became labored. “Stop. Stop.”

  He felt relief when the Numan released his foot and removed the wet compress. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as a foul taste coated his tongue, something akin to melted plastic. “What did you do to me?” Sci’s words were slow, and his jaw felt weighted down. The sides of the room faded and dimmed.

  “Like I said, you need to calm down. I just fixed all the cranial scars from when you were hit in the head by Sands, the cyborg.”

  Who?

  “I’d rather not have to do this all over again. Although, had you not attacked an entire crew of Rastos space pirates, you might not have been knocked out by a heavy-handed cyborg.”

  He hadn’t attacked the pirates. “I pushed them back,” Sci said. He had done so with a concussive wave. He’d woken up to them touching him. They had changed his clothes to tight-fitting ones that itched. He remembered everything as soon as he responded defensively to the Numan—the space pirates minds filled with fear. They’d attacked him with whatever weapon was closest. Knives, phasers, and even photon guns. One pirate, removed his belt to try to beat him with the buckle.

  “Yes, well, it was enough to scare the captain, and he sold you to the nearest place he could find. Which happened to be the gladiator planet called Angny. The same one, the crew and I were held captive on. Angny’s are a large dark grey race with large tusk like bottom teeth.”

  Angny. Sci knew that race as too. In the archives, they always trained for battle. Fighting was a way of life. Sci considered them to be barbaric.

  However, he didn’t say any of that.

  “You were given to a male called the Chancellor, who owned a gladiator arena. According to Sands, the captain believed you would be killed. Used as fighting fodder.” The Numan waved his hand in the air a few times. “The point being, Captain bought Sands as a way to keep you unconscious because he was the only one who could keep knocking you out.” The Ansel winced. “Do you remember any of that?”

  Did he remember being sold as a parcel? No.

  Cerebrals didn’t barter with other races. They were perfectly self-sufficient, but Sci had also read
that other races did. Some sold beings as slaves. It was sad to read about males, females, and children being sold, but living that reality was much worse.

  “I’m a possession to this male? The Chancellor?”

  “No, he turned you into the Federation as a Luri. Do you know what that is?”

  Sci nodded. He did, and he took a deep, satisfied breath. The Federation paid a flat finder’s fee to those who turned in anyone who was kidnapped and sold against their will. Furthermore, they returned them to their proper home planet.

  “I’m going home.”

  The Numan scratched the back of his neck. “Not exactly. You’re a Cerebral, and they are forbidden in Federation space.”

  Sci blinked his heavy lids. Forbidden in Federation space.

  He should have remembered sooner.

  Sci recalled all of it in a series of snapshots. In summary, his kind was forbidden in Federation space because the Federation feared Cerebrals would turn everybody into mindless drones. Which was absurd. Sci’s race didn’t have that kind of ability. What they did have were two unique and powerful abilities: telepathic and telekinetic. It made all Cerebrals—at least according to the Federation—unbiddable and hostile.

  Ansel hovered a round medical device over Sci’s right temple. The instrument twittered and beeped as the medical officer moved it from the right side to the left. “The council will determine what happens to you. The benefit is that Sands’ testimony will confirm that you didn’t enter into our area intentionally, they found you in a lifepod, floating aimlessly in the OutWorlds space.”

  A lifepod? There was no way Sci would have been able to get inside a lifepod and eject it from the planet while he was unconscious. Which meant that someone—likely a Cerebral—had done it for him. And since Sci had been left to die in the vast darkness of space, he was not the original target. But if not him…could it have been his brother?

  His brother, Chollar, was secretive, impatient, and didn’t adhere to the edicts of the city leaders.

  The Elders must have used Sci to lure Chollar out.

  Attempting to take back control of his muted mind, Sci pushed against the restraints. “Why am I unable to use my telekinesis and telepathy?” There was no doubt the medical officer had given him something that bound his abilities.

  Ansel pulled a stray, chin-length lock of hair behind his ear and clasped his hands behind his back. “I inhibited your telekinesis with bacteria from Earth called botulism. Used judiciously, it becomes an effective muscle inhibitor. Your telepathic powers are still intact. But I was able to inhibit the frequency with which you receive others’ mental thoughts.” Ansel turned his head and tapped a circular, white disk on the back of his head near the top of the spine. “And there’s this. I’ve dubbed it the cerebral blocker.”

  Cold fear gripped Sci, causing his chest to seize and his breathing to quicken. His telekinetic ability was gone? Or damaged? It was like losing an appendage. Sci didn’t want to think about it, but he had to face the horror that one of his main abilities was…gone.

  He did his best to hide how unnerved he was at the physical violation, the perversion of something he held most dear, but Ansel’s tense stance and narrowed brows let him know Sci wasn’t fooling anyone. “Why?”

  Ansel folded his arms. “Protocol. I was tasked with removing the abilities that make you dangerous. I’m sure you don’t want to hear how I was able to isolate the area of your brain that controls your telekinesis.” He waited for a moment, and when Sci didn’t respond to this disturbing revelation, Ansel went on, “It’s beneficial that I was able to do so.”

  Before Sci could argue, his captor added, “If I hadn’t, my crewmates would have killed you outright. It would have been too dangerous for you to travel in space with the four of us.”

  Sci stared at the male who dared announce that he’d mutilated Sci’s mind. He was shocked that someone would do this to him. And humiliated to be stripped of his abilities. Back on his planet, he would be ostracized.

  A subtle snick echoed in the room. Sci turned and watched a tall, powerfully built Yunkin male stride in. Another Federation race easy to identify by their egg-shell white skin, and long matching white-silver hair. Five fingers and toes- humanoid features, but no one would know unless you cut into one, that their blood wasn’t red, but light grey.

  According to the archives, the Federation was created by the Terrans helping the other alien races to conform to living peaceably. When they encountered Krica, they were unable to get the planet to live under their rules.

  The Terrans, repulsed by the peculiar Krica race renamed them Demons. The Krica thought it was endearing and kept the name distinguishing themselves by their innate skills. Sci remembered reviewing the long list of Demons: Red, Night, Sex, Roth and many more.

  One planet conference turned into a war with a race the enjoyed chaos.

  Yunkins who esteemed order and honor hated the Krica enough to join the conflict, tipping the scales and winning the war. Yunkins didn’t stop there, they took over the Terran Federation, claiming the Terrans weren’t equipped with the ability to keep all the races in check. Hundreds of years had passed, and the Yunkins have been running it ever since.

  Sci admired them.

  “My name is Captain Rannn, and you are a prisoner on this Federation transporter. As a Cerebral, you are in violation of Federation law. Your kind is not allowed in Federation space. I alerted our council, and they have advised me to proceed to the space station Pegna, where they will hold a formal hearing.”

  Sci decided he might be wrong about Yunkins.

  Captain Rannn ineloquently alluded to Sci being the one who had made a grave error and should suffer the consequences. But the captain had to know what the chatty Numan knew, that Sci had been found, captured, and sold. “It wasn’t exactly my choice to be here, and punishing me for it seems uncivilized.” Sci didn’t miss the captain’s jaw flexing at being called uncivilized.

  Rannn continued. “Until we reach Pegna, you will be confined to a room that we have altered. The bars are electrified with enough volts to stop your heart and send you to meet your maker—whoever that is.”

  Sci's thoughts filled with raw emotions he wasn’t used to experiencing. It left him feeling fragile and helpless.

  Angry.

  Anger was something he had felt before, but never to this degree.

  To the self-proclaimed captain, he said, “You’re afraid of what you don’t understand. Your fear, like the Federation’s, is a weakness.”

  The captain glowered at him. “If you try anything at all to get free, or attempt to hurt my crew, I am within my rights to punish you—to kill you.” Rannn paused. “Do you understand and agree to my terms?”

  Sci thought about his precarious situation. At no time did Rannn say Sci would be returned to his homeworld. In no way did the captain show a hint of understanding for the uncommon circumstance Sci found himself in. Sci hadn’t broken any laws, and he would be damned if this council kept him in space a day longer than necessary. He would take the deal and wait until an opportunity to escape presented itself. Hopefully, that moment would come sooner rather than later.

  His brother needed him.

  “I agree to your terms.”

  Chapter Two

  Life Choices

  "You're going. Get on," Sasha said.

  She had finally earned enough money cleaning several neighbors’ homes to buy a new cloud hopper. All her other hover and flight crafts had been purchased in junk piles. This new one was a jet propulsion cloud hopper that hovered over any terrain or elevation. She was too giddy and downright proud of herself to fly the beauty solo. She didn’t want to celebrate this monumental occasion by herself.

  So, Jandy had to get on board.

  Jandy stood a dainty five feet and two inches and had small, dark, almond-shaped eyes and jet-black hair. Jandy's descendants were from Taiwan. Her looks were a dramatic contrast to Sasha’s Ame
rican ancestry, but they were both Earthlings, or Terrans in Federation-speak, and Jandy was Sasha’s best friend. Which was why Sasha was not surprised or confused when Jandy angrily snapped back in her native tongue, "Wo bu yai zhu ta de che."

  "Too bad, you're going to ride on this hopper," Sasha said.

  Jandy huffed, shaking her long, raven hair. Her stubbornness was admirable and cute. "Last time we took the mountain pass, we almost died from a landslide. I don’t want to be crushed to death. I don’t know why you enjoy doing dangerous stuff."

  Oh, yeah. The landslide. Sasha had forgotten all about that. What a rush. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. I’ve got excellent piloting skills.”

  Jandy rolled her eyes. “No, you have luck.”

  Sasha smirked while brushing off her shoulders. “Luck-schmuck, it’s all me. I’m the best.”

  “I’m not going. And you shouldn’t either. You need to keep a low profile like I’ve told you every day since we met ten years ago.”

  And Sasha felt the same as she did ten years ago—keeping a low profile was boring. “I do keep a low profile when I’m in the heart of the city. I take orders from my taskmaster, I do my work, and I go home.” Sasha patted the seat behind her. “Now, get on. It’ll be fun. We deserve some fun. Slave ships suck.”

  “This,”—Jandy pointed to the new hopper—“is not going to help us get off this planet. We should be focusing on that.”

  Sasha leaned back, mouth open in protest. “You are always going on about that. Look, we tried and tried everything to get off this planet. Why can’t you just accept it’s done? All we can do is squeeze out the fun in each day we have.” Sasha and Jandy had plotted for ten years to get off the planet. They’d first thought they could buy their freedom, but Jandy’s mom had ruined that by saying that Allure would never sell her slaves. She made too much money off the free labor.

  Next, they’d tried to escape by sneaking onto a random cargo ship, but Allure’s guards manned the shipyard. They couldn’t get through, not to mention that Sasha didn’t want to leave her mother.