Rocor (Dragons of Kratak Book 5)

by Ruth Anne Scott

  His voice was cold. Emotionless. And yet, it still seemed to convey something sinister. The second man – the one who'd climbed out of the passenger seat raised his hand toward me. He was holding something – it looked vaguely like a gun. But not. Just as they looked like normal men. But not. There was something bizarre, something surreal about this whole thing.

  But seeing the weapon – or whatever it was – in his hand, pointed at me, it broke my paralysis. I didn't know who – or what they were – or what they wanted with me, but I wasn't going down without a fight. I turned and ran for the far embankment.

  “Stop,” called one of the men behind me. “We mean you no harm.”

  Yeah, right. I reached the embankment and scrambled up. The dirt crumbled beneath my feet, making it slow going and hard to gain traction. I dared not risk looking back for fear that I would lose any momentum and find myself frozen with fear again. I just continued trying to crawl up this dirt wall, trying to reach the forest beyond it where, at the very least, I could hide.

  “Stop,” the voice came again, this time sounding closer.

  I couldn't help myself. Though continuing to scramble up the dirt embankment, I glanced over my shoulder and saw both of them coming toward me. They moved with a grace that was almost feline. They reminded me of dancers in a way. But like everything else about them – not. They seemed to glide – almost hovering a bit off the ground.

  “What in the hell are you?” I screamed.

  I looked both ways on the road but saw no cars. Nobody coming to help me. I was alone with two creatures closing in on me. I made it about halfway up the embankment and gritted my teeth, digging harder, scrambling faster. From the corner of my eye, I saw that they had both reached the bottom of the embankment and were staring up at me.

  “Please,” called one of them. “Come down and come with us.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks and my body was racked with sobs, but I continued digging and clawing my way up the embankment. Like hell I was going with them peacefully. My breathing was ragged and labored and my energy was draining fast. The top of the embankment was close, but still seemed miles away. I wasn't going to make it before my body gave out. It was like trying to crawl through tar.

  Sobbing, I dropped to my hands and knees. My hand landed on the hard edge of a jagged rock and a sudden idea, a final gambit, shot through my mind. Picking up the rock, I turned and fired it at the men. I thought that maybe, if I could hit them with the rock, it might give me enough time to get to the top of the embankment and into the forest.

  I watched the rock sailing straight toward one of them and had a momentary flash of triumph. It looked to be on a trajectory that would hit him square in the face. It might disorient them enough to give me the time I needed to escape.

  But then something happened that I could not comprehend.

  The second man raised his hand and a beam of blue light shot from the device he was holding. It was a narrow beam that crackled like electricity and when it struck the rock, the rock simply vanished. Disintegrated. It just ceased to be. I stared at it, completely dumbfounded. I had no explanation for what had just happened.

  I turned and looked at them and found that they were looking back at me, their faces devoid of any expression or emotion whatsoever. And when the man raised his hand and pointed the device at me, my heart felt like it was going to burst. I envisioned what happened to the rock and imagined it happening to me – just vanishing. Disintegrating.

  As the blue beam of light flared and streaked toward me, I felt my eyes grow wide as I opened my mouth and screamed.

  Chapter Five

  Tarkonil

  The night was dark and the twin moons of Optorio were high in the sky. It was late. Way too late. And I was way too old to be sneaking around in the dark playing these games of mystery and intrigue. But I had a duty to Optorio. More specifically, I had a duty to the people of Optorio. I strongly suspected there was corruption among the Council – I thought that some of them were even breaking the laws of our people. And it was my duty to bring that to light.

  It was a fool's errand, of course. Considering who I was dealing with, I was likely going to get myself killed trying to expose what was happening. But it was a risk I was just going to have to accept if I wanted the truth to come to light. I'd come to realize that to do the right thing and to make the world a better place for everybody, it often meant that you weren't going to be there to see it.

  It was a frightening and depressing thought, but what could I do? I couldn't continue living in this world, seeing the sort of depravity and deprivation I saw on the streets every single day and do nothing. I couldn't turn my back on the people who were suffering. Nor could I look them in the eye, knowing I had the power to do something to better their world but was too afraid to do anything.

  “Soran, are you online?” I whispered to myself.

  “As always,” Soran replied. “How may I assist?”

  Soran was my artificially intelligent biocomputer system. It used to be that all Optorions, if they chose, could have a biosystem link up established and have the necessary components grafted into their bodies. It was a very useful tool to have. He was able to communicate with me through an implant in my head – nobody could hear him but me and I could communicate with him by simply thinking what I wanted to say.

  But, for reasons I could never adequately explain, I often spoke out loud anyway. Baz had always said I was strange for that – though I'd often caught him doing it himself.

  But now, the right to a biosystem was reserved for government officials and key members of the military. Ordinary citizens had their biosystems deactivated and scrapped. Everybody was cut off from the flow of information and technology the biosystems provided. Optorions had grown so accustomed to having a biosystem, that it was a way of life. People threw parties on the day their children were old enough for the grafting procedure. So to be denied that system and have it forcibly removed from your body – in a way, it was like having a limb cut off.

  But the Regents had no pity. No mercy. The flow of information was theirs to control and control it, they did. They restricted everybody's access to our biosystem mainframes and had shut them down as a matter of security, they'd said. The biosystems were growing too powerful and they feared would aid people in starting a rebellion.

  My thought to that though, was that if the Regents had been governing correctly, there would be no fear of rebellion to begin with.

  Of course, they tried to make it more palatable by talking out our reliance upon the technology and our biosystems. They publicly lamented the fact that Optorions were no longer able to think for themselves, were unable to do anything of importance without having a biosystem backup. They couched in terms of a great educational revolution – one that would teach all of us how to think again. How to maximize our brain power rather than our computer power. They claimed they were giving Optorio back to the people by teaching them to educate themselves again.

  Very few people actually bought it. Which sort of proved – to me, at least – that the people were already more than capable of thinking for themselves.

  “Sir?” Soran asked. “How may I assist you?”

  “I need you to scan the area,” I said. “I need to know if there are guards – and if so, how many.”

  “Accessing surveillance feeds,” Soran said. “Might I inquire why you are in a place that requires you to hide from the guards in the first place?”

  “No, you may not,” I replied. “Just get me the information I need. Please.”

  “Apologies, sir,” Soran intoned. “No need for such hostility. Does this have to do with the information search you requested?”

  “Information, Soran,” I whispered more insistently. “Now, please.”

  Soran made a noise that I could only interpret as a sigh followed by a tsk-ing sound. As if he were conveying disapproval of my actions. Truth be told, I wasn't that crazy about what I was doing either, but it had to be
done. And I was the one who had to do it.

  I had slipped into the port bay through an open side door. There had been a couple of the port workers, but they'd been so engrossed in whatever game they were playing, I could have walked up behind them and cut their throats before they even bothered to turn around. Slipping inside of the bay had been simple.

  It had taken a little doing, but after my conversation with Dibs, I'd spent a couple of days digging deeper and deeper into Zavrik. And it was his bay that I'd infiltrated and was watching. He wasn't nearly as incompetent as he made himself out to be and did a nearly masterful job of covering his electronic tracks. But I was lucky to have Soran on my side because he was better. He'd found the bread crumbs carelessly left behind by Zavrik and had followed them relentlessly.

  It turned out that Dibs' rumors had some substance to them. Zavrik was hiding something. And though I couldn't prove it conclusively – yet – I was almost certain he was on the take. He was being bribed to either actively participate in bringing in illegal contraband, or just look the other way. It didn't matter which really, since he was complicit either way. I just needed to find out what was being brought in.

  “There appear to be three security guards in the bay,” Soran said. “They are approximately 400 meters from your current position. Judging by the thermal scans I am seeing, they are in a room – asleep.”

  At least that was going my way. “Thank you, Soran,” I said.

  “Sir, that is not to say there are not others in that particular bay who are armed,” Soran said. “I merely ran a check for security personnel on file. I did not – ”

  “Wait,” I hissed. “Quiet.”

  Soran fell silent and I strained my ears. Listening. And soon enough, the distinctive sound of a transport's engine filled the air around me. It was happening.

  During his search of Zavrik's records and hidden correspondence, he'd discovered that there was a manifest for ships that did not exist. Or at least, ships whose presence had been expunged from the records. It was never many. Two or three a week at most. It was if whoever was running this operation knew that any more than that might draw some unwanted attention.

  The ships in question though, did not appear in the bay logs. Procedure dictated that all ships must be recorded in the bay's manifest upon arrival. But Soran had found a second log buried deep in an electronic jungle. If you knew what you were looking for, it was relatively simple to get to. But if you were ignorant to its existence, you might never find it at all. But when I saw it, I felt a surge of energy in my chest and something akin to excitement flow through me. It was a secret manifest that listed the arrival of ships dating back to just after the Regents had been established.

  So, I had evidence that somebody – or perhaps, multiple people – on the Council were bringing in ships in secret. They had altered official logs to hide the existence of these transports. That much, I could prove. I also had proof that a port manager was complicit in the cover up of these mysterious transports.

  What I didn't have though, was any idea what was actually being brought to Optorio. Yes, I had heard plenty of rumor and speculation. Such as the trafficking of women from offworld for the sole purpose of forcing them into the sex trade. But as of yet, I had not one shred of actual evidence. If I took this to the Council now, they'd laugh it off and tell me they were bringing in coffee or rugs. Something completely benign.

  Which was why I was in Zavrik's bay in the middle of the night – to get that proof.

  I tucked myself behind a stack of crates and peered around the corner as the transport entered the bay and gracefully set down. A moment later, the ramp came down in the back and the two pilots walked out. They talked for a couple of minutes with the port workers – and judging by the laughter and backslapping, were apparently swapping jokes.

  “Sir,” Soran said. “I took the liberty of scanning the transport and there are sixteen life forms aboard. They all appear to be female and of Gevonian origin.”

  “Gevonians,” I whispered to myself.

  The pilots disappeared back into the ship and I waited to see what would happen next. Though, I had a fairly good idea already.

  “Soran,” I said. “Are you recording?”

  “Of course,” the computer intoned. “I've already begun curating all surveillance images as well as saving the recordings through your retinal lenses.”

  Excellent. I was going to get the proof I'd been looking for. The next step was to find out who exactly was behind the operation, but I had a feeling that wasn't going to be too entirely difficult. The Regents were cowards and when I began squeezing with all of the information I'd collected, they would begin turning on each other. They would be falling all over themselves to make a deal by implicating somebody else.

  It was just a matter of applying pressure to the right places.

  From my vantage point, I watched as a line of Gevonian women – their distinctive blue skin and thick, white hair – were marched down the ramp, being prodded by the pilots. One woman broke out of line and started to run.

  But she didn't make it very far. One of the bay workers caught her – he actually reached out and grabbed her by her thick mane of hair. He'd pulled so hard, the woman had been yanked off of her feet and landed flat on her back, the breath very likely driven out of her.

  The bay worker slapped her across the face, yelling a string of curses at her. Gevonian women were known to be feisty and this one certainly lived up to that reputation. Though trying to regain her breath, she spit in the worker's face. Outraged, the worker reached back and balled up his fist, ready to deliver a blow to her.

  “Stop,” one of the pilots called, his voice echoing around the mostly empty bay. “Do not damage the goods. There are to be no marks or wounds to them.”

  The worker growled something and then yanked the woman to her feet by her hair. She squealed in pain as he dragged her along, back toward where the other group of women waited. They looked resigned. Defeated. I couldn't help but imagine what sort of horrors they'd been exposed to.

  The woman being dragged back to the group struggled though and tried to break the man's grip. He responded by delivering a vicious punch to her midsection. She doubled over and even from where I was standing, I could hear her retching and gasping for breath.

  “What did I just say?” the pilot screamed.

  “You said no marks or wounds,” the worker replied. “Look at her. Not a mark on her. But I got my point across.”

  I watched as the men herded the women together and ushered them down a corridor. I wasn't certain where they were going, but I had a fairly good idea. I was heartsick by what I saw. For some reason, I'd thought that getting confirmation that I was right would have felt better. But believing something and seeing it in front of you were two very different things.

  Seeing the abuse and mistreatment of the Gevonian woman only steeled me further. Made me angry. Made me remember exactly what I was doing all of this for – to stop that sort of treatment. To make life better for everybody.

  “Soran,” I said. “Finish compiling all of the data and send it to the secure location.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  I gave one last look at the corridor where they'd taken the women. Part of me wished that I were a skilled fighter. That I could throw myself into the fight and free them all on my own. But I was smart enough to know my limitations. I was not a fighter and would end up getting killed – which would help no one.

  No, I had to take solace in the fact that I was doing what I could to help. And I would continue doing just that until my dying day.

  Book 2 – Caged

  Chapter One

  Riley

  My head was spinning and my body ached. When I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling of the room I was in, I found that the whole world seemed to be spinning actually. As I lay there, taking an inventory of everything that hurt on me, I felt my stomach roiling and was sure that I was going to be sick. I turned over qu
ickly. Too quickly. My stomach lurched and I vomited up some bile, a pool of green liquid and foam spewing all over the cold floor of the room.

  “Help me,” I slurred, reaching out and grabbing onto something in front of me that felt like a cold metal bar. “Someone, please help me.”

  “Ain't no one gonna help you here, doll,” a high pitched female voice with a Southern accent said softly. “In here, there ain't nothin' but misery.”

  I wasn't alone.

  I tried to turn to where the voice came from, but my vision was blurry and it took my eyes some time to adjust. All I could see was the vague and blurry outline of somebody sitting on the floor across from me. But as my eyes gradually adjusted and my vision started to come back to me, I felt my eyes widen in shock.

  No, I wasn't alone. There were others. Many others. All women. Some were like me, on the ground and just waking up. Others were still out. And there were some who were awake, sitting against the wall with their knees to their chest. There were roughly two dozen women in all sitting or laying in the cell with me.

  My first thought was that I had somehow ended up in jail. The room around us was a stark white color. It was cold and there were no windows. Or light fixtures. But as I looked around and started to become a little better oriented, I realized that there was light – somewhat dim – but light, in the room. But where was it coming from? As I looked around, I realized that it looked like the light was coming from the walls themselves. They seemed to glow with an inner light.

  It was strange. Beyond strange. And I had no explanation of it.

  “Where am I?” I choked, my throat raw and dry. “Are we in jail?”

  The woman across from me scoffed. “We ain't in jail, honey. At least, no kinda jail I've ever seen before,” she said. “None of us knows where in the hell we are. We all just woke up here. Just like you.”

  I was finally able to put a face with the voice. She was small blonde woman with a bob haircut and smeared mascara running down her cheeks. She was pretty in a way, but looked like she'd lived a hard life. She looked like she was in her thirties or so, but something told me she was actually younger than that.