Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  Maf had hired Ket as security for his property. Why Maf thought his acreage on Lobam needed a guard was a mystery to Wekniz. The beachside home had a caretaker that lived on the grounds, and the crime rate in the barely-populated area was next to nothing. But since Ket was good at nothing except drinking, it was the perfect job for him.

  The man had been thrown out of more training camps than could be counted. He’d been discharged from the military after numerous violations against fellow soldiers and civilians. He was violent, which was not really seen as a bad trait among Nobeks. Ket’s downfall – besides his overindulgence in alcohol – was the nature of his violence. He had been known to attack others like a coward; from behind and with help.

  Plus he was as dumb as a rock. The man was a fool a billion times over.

  Adding to what Wekniz counted among Ket’s many sins was how he openly worshipped Maf. He’d made no secret of how much he wished he could take Falinset’s place as the man’s natural son. As far as anyone knew, he was one of the few of Feyom’s sons who had actually been sired by her clan. Still, that was never a good bet.

  Ket never missed an opportunity to show off what his loyalty to Maf gained him. The two-seater shuttle for instance was one of the newest gifts from Falinset’s biological father. Because of Ket’s bragging, Wekniz knew it was one of the first of the new Lightning Zips just coming off the assembly lines. The little shuttle didn’t look like much. It barely boasted enough cargo space to pack an overnight bag. But the time trials had proved it was almost as fast as a military fighter. It could cover the distance between Lobam and Kalquor in a matter of a few hours.

  Wekniz doubted Maf bought Ket such nice toys because the Nobek offered any real service to him. Ket was a lunkhead – dangerous as hell, but a lunkhead nevertheless. Wekniz thought Maf’s generosity sprang from the hope that Falinset would realize what he was missing out on by rejecting a real father-son relationship.

  The terrible trio of Feyom, Sitrel, and Ket stopped by the open hatch. Whatever they talked about, Wekniz was too far away to hear. The way Feyom tossed her head and laughed like she performed on a stage, Wekniz doubted it was anything important anyway.

  He was more interested in what lay behind the shuttles. He wanted to know what was beneath the second set of lights. The Nobek began to move through the woods again, angling for a better view.

  Wekniz found another space through the trees that gave him a clear sight line. What he saw made him stop short.

  Nobeks in ground troop armored formsuits and armed with military-grade blasters stalked back and forth near a clearing. They looked like they were guarding the area, patrolling spaces between silvery poles. Wekniz knew such poles powered large containment fields that were usually found at prison work camps. There was a temporary shelter in the middle of the clearing, its metal glowing dully in the light. The trees between him and the area blocked his view of anything else.

  What the hell did Maf have going on here?

  Wekniz squatted on his haunches, considering what he’d found. The shelter was not on the area fire watch maps, but since it was a structure meant for temporary use, that wasn’t illegal. Maf was apparently using it – or allowing his friends to use it – to keep something valuable. The fact it was within a containment barrier with armed guards also pointed to something of importance being kept safe.

  But why were the guards wearing ground troop armored uniforms? Surely this wasn’t a government operation.

  Wekniz thought of his parent clan, of their access to weapons research. In light of Feyom’s hints that Maf might be involved with the Basma, he started to worry. What if Maf was letting the revolt’s leader build something to attack the Empire with? What if the guards were traitors to the military?

  He might be looking at a secret training camp. Maybe the shelter was being used as a barracks. Yet it was small, surely unable to hold more than two dozen men comfortably. If that was all the Basma had to work with, his revolt was a joke.

  The only way to figure anything out was to get closer. Wekniz considered the matter. He wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t a fool either. He was armed with nothing more than a couple of blades. There were a number of blaster-armed Nobeks over there, and they looked like hardcore bastards who would shoot first and maybe not bother to ask questions later. He’d have to be extra careful.

  Hoping foolish curiosity wouldn’t prove to be his undoing, Wekniz began to creep forward, watching the guards. He was so intent on keeping an eye on the men with the weapons that he almost didn’t see the gleam of reflected light coming from a tree he approached until it was too late.

  Wekniz halted, his breath stilling as he looked at the small metallic object embedded in the tree trunk. The combination of having parents who worked for companies that developed defensive systems and his own work in firefighting let him identify the funnel-shaped heat-sensing eye immediately. He released the held breath after a space of a few seconds. He’d damned near crossed its sensor beam, which would have no doubt triggered off an alarm somewhere. If the light hadn’t caught it just right—

  Wekniz looked around, more alert than ever to his surroundings. He realized how stupid it had been of him to come so close to what was obviously a closely-guarded secret. The armed guards alone should have warned him off.

  He was not military. Outside of basic Nobek training, completed when he was still more boy than man, Wekniz had little to recommend him as a warrior. He could handle a standup fight, but he leaned more towards the protective side of being a Nobek, ready to die to save others. Wekniz knew that whatever he’d stumbled across, he had no business sticking his nose in it. Not if he wanted to keep said nose attached to his scarred face.

  Wekniz got low to the ground once more and backed out the way he’d come. Only when he’d gotten out of sight of the clearing and landing pad did he stand up and hurry back to his clan’s property.

  All the while he wondered what it was he had stumbled on, and if he’d be able to resist the deadly pull of curiosity that wanted him to go back and find out.

  * * * *

  Sonia stood just inside the darkness within the shelter, watching through the doorway. They’d all been alerted to the sound of a shuttle landing, and the women were curious who had ventured to their little parcel of hell. She reported when Feyom, Sitrel, and Ket had gone over to greet the newcomer.

  The wan but tough blonde pulled a face and looked towards the pallet where Tasha sat next to the sleeping Noelle. “The princess has a VIP visitor. They’re coming into the yard. Ket’s with them.”

  At that report, some of the women made little cries of fear. Nobek Ket terrified them. His abuses of the women were the worst of the men who kept them prisoner. From what little they would tell Tasha, he’d personally been responsible for the deaths of five of the earliest abductees.

  Tasha swallowed. Sonia and several of the others called the dead ‘the lucky ones’.

  The blonde hurried over to Tasha. Sonia grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Shield the baby as much as possible,” the woman advised.

  Two other women, Patty and Lisa, came over to stand with them, forming a sort of human shield between the door and Noelle. They had been there the longest, reduced to near skeletons from the deprivations they’d faced. Like Sonia, they were worn hard but somehow remained compassionate.

  Tasha looked over her shoulder at Noelle. Her heart gave a painful thump to see the dried tear tracks on the princess’ cheeks. It had been an awful three days for the child.

  Tasha’s being had warmed for the women who were her fellow prisoners. Having so little to start with, they’d still made sure Noelle got the best of the scraps the guards had tossed into the trough. Amy had strained the child’s filthy water over and over through a worn skirt to rid it of the grit. It had still been awful, but thirst and hunger had kept Noelle from complaining. In fact, the child had gotten through the days with a kind of fortitude Tasha hadn’t known a not-quite four-year-old could posses
s. She had her parents’ strength, all right. Tasha hoped she would survive to tell about it.

  Three of the Nobek guards entered the shelter, dark silhouettes in the dim environs. Tasha knew Kalquorians had extremely sensitive sight in the dark. These men didn’t need much light to see the women clearly. They stepped about halfway into the room and stood at attention to one side.

  The hesitant shuffling, lurching steps of someone else reached Tasha’s ear. The body that appeared silhouetted in the doorway was contorted. It made Tasha think of wicked crones in the woods, offering treats to the lost children who stumbled across their candy cottages.

  It was the first time Tasha had thought disparagingly of Maf. With a massively deformed bone structure connected by twisted muscles and ligaments, no one would have accused Maf of beauty. Multiple surgeries had given Maf the ability to walk and move but could not correct the way his upper body turned at a sharp angle from the lower portion. His arms were bent like the limbs of a windswept tree, one so badly deformed that it always stuck out to the side. His head tilted towards his right shoulder, as if he was perpetually confused by what others said.

  Tasha had admired Maf for never bowing to profound infirmities, even after he’d led the mass resignations of a third of the Royal Council. His formation of a dissident group called The Foundation of Truth, Honor, and Freedom, which criticized the current council and the Imperial Clan itself, hadn’t erased her respect. She didn’t agree with Maf’s call to remove Earthers from the Empire, but he’d always made his arguments with calm restraint. Maf’s physical disabilities had not stood in the way of making his mark as a capable leader.

  Now Tasha knew he was no conscientious objector, no principled representative of an unhappy group of the population. He was a traitor. A terrorist. A monster. She and Noelle were at his mercy.

  Gliding in behind the hobbling Dramok were Sitrel and Ket. Both tall, both handsome. Sitrel was almost always silent in the presence of others but watchful. Tasha didn’t think she’d ever heard the man say more than two words at a time, and those were usually directed to Maf.

  Ket was the bulkier of the two, the monster who the women lived in terror of. Many of the Nobeks standing guard over the prisoners had dealt their fair share of abuse, but it was Ket’s name that even Sonia, Patty, and Lisa shuddered to speak.

  With the other guards flanking the trio of Maf, Sitrel, and Ket, the group came close to the four women standing guard over the sleeping princess. The other women had retreated into the far corners.

  Maf stopped in front of Tasha. In the darkness she saw a hint of his face, which had not been deformed like his body. In the light, it was not an unpleasant sight. In the gloom of the shelter’s unlit interior, there were only deep shadows where his eyes and mouth were, a slight lightening where the nose protruded.

  She heard rather than saw the smile he wore as he spoke. “Matara Tasha. How lovely to see you here.”

  Her tone cold, she answered, “I can’t same the same for you, Basma.”

  Humor rolled from him. “I’m glad to know I don’t have to fill you in on the details. Move aside and let me see the child.”

  Tasha didn’t answer. She folded her arms and stayed in place. The other three women on either side of her also stayed quiet and still.

  Maf’s form shook, as if he suppressed laughter. “It is no great trouble to have my men toss you and the rest of this filth aside. However, it would be nice to present you and our beloved princess without bruises on your so-soft skin.”

  Tasha responded to Maf’s sneer with one of her own. “And here I thought you didn’t care.”

  “Only for a day or two. I plan for you to record a vid. Though she presents a brave front, the empress must be distraught over her daughter’s disappearance. You can ease her pain.”

  Thinking of how Jessica must be feeling, not knowing where Noelle was or if she lived, made Tasha see red. And those tear tracks on the child’s face— “Only a coward would threaten a child.”

  Maf’s voice was as reasonable as it had ever been on the Council floor. “I have no intention of harming Princess Noelle. You, however, are treated with care for as long as you cooperate. If you don’t – well, my men have many uses for rebellious women, as your new friends have no doubt told you. Surely you don’t want your little cousin to see all the harm they can do to you?”

  Tasha swallowed and knew Maf saw it. However, it wasn’t the threat that made her react. It was the helpless feeling his threat brought. A feeling she remembered from another time, another life. One she’d sworn she’d never suffer again.

  You make her watch them hurt me, and I will destroy you, she vowed silently.

  She looked to her left at Sonia and nodded. Then she returned her gaze to Maf’s shadowed face. “You can see Noelle. But she’s sleeping, so you can leave her the hell alone. She’s suffered enough ugliness since coming here. She doesn’t have to look at it too.”

  Maf made no response to the insult. The women moved slightly aside, not enough that he could move between them and get to Noelle. They let him look at the sleeping child’s drawn face.

  The shadow that made up his mouth moved. Tasha imagined he gazed at Noelle with a leering grin. He stood a little straighter. She sensed the triumph in his stance and wanted to kick him to the ground.

  He turned unsteadily. Sitrel and Ket made way, letting Maf lurch his way towards the door. Sitrel followed close behind, and the guards flanked them.

  The massive body of Ket remained for a moment, looming over Tasha. She thought he was looking her over. She heard a moist sound, the sound of a beast licking its chops in anticipation of a meal. Then he too turned around and followed the group out.

  Fury remained to seethe in Tasha’s veins, but she was shaken as well. She knew Maf would never let them go. Once he got whatever it he was after, any protections he had in place for her would be taken away. She would be battered and tormented like the rest of the women here.

  Worse still, what of Noelle? What would be her fate?

  Chapter 8

  Falinset sat on the comfortable lounger that decorated the deck outside the common room. He sipped a second glass of bohut, already thinking about having another. He gazed at the marble that was Kalquor, poised high in the black night sky. The planet beamed like a blue-green eye in the darkness and hung over the tops of trees bent away from the punishing winds of the nearby shore.

  From a distance he could hear the waves of the ocean that beat the beach half a mile away. Nighttime insects croaked and chirruped from the nearby trees. There was the occasional haunting cry of some animal caught by another. Under that was the vid program Nur watched in the common room. Knowing his Imdiko, it was a program featuring either hand-to-hand fighting or celebrity news. Either one was a happy escape from personal problems for Nur.

  Falinset wanted to go inside, to sit in the company of his Imdiko. If Nur was watching a tabloid vidcast, they could make smug judgments about the latest high-profile scandal. Nur made his contributions to the clan’s finances through the vanities of such people, and Falinset admitted to enjoying the often scathing gossip that was tossed around. Nur was particularly fun when a delicious tidbit he’d already known concerning some notable person was made public. He’d roll his eyes, huff a bored breath, and say something like, “I could have told you months ago that man was courting five different Imdikos and promising every last one of them they would be his clanmate.” Then he’d fill Falinset in on details even the media hadn’t yet discovered.

  Falinset could have gone in and enjoyed such a pastime, but he was punishing himself. Feyom’s latest visit had brought home yet again how his parents had ruined the lives of his clanmates – particularly Nur’s. His Imdiko deserved to be back among the social circles he’d enjoyed on Kalquor, going to the parties where he’d been among friends and clients who doted on him.

  They all deserved to be on Kalquor instead of hiding on Lobam. As a much younger man, Falinset had taken pleasure in cl
ubbing and parties himself, surrounded by friends who meant he never had to sit at home alone. Those days were done, however. Even if Maf’s threats over Nur and Wekniz’s parents disappeared, Falinset’s shame would never allow him to regain those youthful, carefree nights spent laughing and drinking until the early morning hours.

  Falinset’s friends had taken great care to keep secrets from him for untold years. All that time, they’d concealed their knowledge of his mother’s affairs. Everyone had been aware of Feyom’s reputation. Everyone but Falinset. He’d been blissfully unaware while they’d no doubt debated amongst themselves who his real father might be.

  It ate at Falinset to know he’d been one of the last to find out about Feyom. Had his friends laughed at his naivety? Felt sorry for him? Either was too humiliating to bear. If Falinset could have gone back to Kalquor, he’d never be able to face those people again.

  Especially if Maf turned out to be a traitor on top of everything else. If that got out, Falinset would never be able to show his face anywhere, not even Nalta City.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself. “The only people I need are Wekniz and Nur. None of the rest matter.”

  If only he could convince the loneliness gnawing at his guts of that.

  Falinset heard Wekniz’s voice in the common room. His Nobek had returned from his forest wanderings then. Hearing the deep tones of his clanmates blunted the edge of his self-imposed isolation. Maybe he would go into the common room after all and stop beating himself up for the things he couldn’t control.

  The sound of footsteps told Falinset that at least one of his clanmates was coming out to join him. He turned to see both men emerge from the house. He swept an arm to indicate the space next to him on the lounger and the nearby seating cushions that dotted the white floor of the deck.

  His heart warmed, and Falinset suddenly felt a lot better. His clanmates always did that for him. “Sit down. It’s nice out tonight.”