by Imogene Nix
* * * *
Dria let the water course over her naked and very aroused body. She wished Marcus had stayed, but of course, he was right. They both had things to do.
Her body continued to pulse but the urgency had drained away. Dria ignored it as best she could, until the rasp of the loofah over her breasts created a delightful friction. “Oooh...” Excitement welled again and she hissed.
She braced both hands on the wall of the shower, dropped her head forward, and breathed deeply as she ignored the hunger. It didn’t work.
“Drop water temperature fifteen degrees.”
The temperature drop left her shivering, but achieved the result she was seeking. Dria searched for focus as she exhaled.
“Need to track down the buyers. Follow them back to any associates. There must be something.” But so far, they hadn’t found anything. Why? What were they missing?
“Water off.” She stepped from the stall, reached for the towel hanging on the rail, and wiped the droplets from her body.
The light on the screen switched on and off, capturing her attention. Dria reached for the mini-comp.
“Matches found,” the disembodied voice of the computer echoed.
“Thank you!” She snatched it up and headed for the door, ready to show Marcus, when she realized she was still naked. “Oh, you have to be kidding me.”
Dria quickly authorized a backup as she donned clothing. A pale pair of pants and lightweight blouse were lying over the back of the chair, ready for her to wear to today’s official engagements. She’d rather climb into her exercise clothing, but this was the first to hand. She shoved her feet into pumps and headed for the door, scooping up the mini-comp as she moved.
The door opened without a sound and she slipped through.
In the corridor, Simpson, one of Marcus’s many assistants waited. “Can I be of service, Turana?”
“Oh, yes. I’m looking for the commander. I’ve received important information that will hopefully help us conclude this mission.”
Simpson’s face changed. In an instant it morphed from young and guileless to twisted and angry.
Dria couldn’t help herself. She backed up. “Simpson?”
“You’re too damned clever for your own good. All we needed was another few days, and we’d have finally managed to destroy the Accord.” The guileless look returned. “You’re going for a visit, Turana.” He slapped a transmitter to her shirt, and while she tried to remove it, he tugged a tiny remote from his pocket and depressed the button with a smile.
“Marcus!” Even as she screamed, the world turned black.
* * * *
The tiny tracker app Marcus had downloaded to his chrono blared.
“Dria!” He shoved back from the table and through the door, his feet pounding on the tiled floor as he headed to her room. “Dria? Dammit, answer me.”
If the app on his chrono was right though, she was gone. He’d set it to alert him to a transmission. Gone! He searched her rooms while his heartrate spiked.
He tugged the mini-comp from his pocket as his mind worked through how this could have happened. He called up the location of all his people. Everyone was accounted for except... Simpson?
In his mind, a vision of the young, dark-haired man who’d been delivering meals and running errands rose. “Dammit.”
Sick... That tugged at his memory and he contacted his cousin Arends, the one who’d been unavailable. “Simon? Can you talk?”
“Hey, Marcus. Sure. What’s up?”
“You were sick at the beginning of the mission. Did they ever find out what was wrong with you?”
“Oh, it was food poisoning. My morning yogurt contained some kind of bacteria. Did you miss the safety recall?” There was amusement in his cousin’s voice, but a yawing pit opened in the bottom of Marcus’s belly.
“Are you available?” He needed him as part of his crew now, if they were to find Dria. His gut roiled. They needed to work swiftly.
“Sure.”
“Good. Transport to my quarters immediately.” He broke off the call and swiftly sent out an urgent summons to the rest of his team.
One by one they checked in. It was only minutes, but felt like a lifetime. “The Incubi have the Turana. It appears Simpson, who replaced Simon, was a plant.”
“Simpson? He’s... He was a new transfer in about two months ago!” Simon frowned. “I don’t know where he came from.”
Marcus turned to the young blond man. “Find out everything you can about him.” Another thought struck. Dria complaining her yogurt tasted sour and was unwell. On the side in the dining room was the breakfast set up on a tray. “And get that yogurt analyzed.”
Simon nodded and started moving.
A young female ensign, a specialist in computational assessment, looked up. “I’ve found her signature, Vane.” Her face was pale and tight. “It’s in a remote area, in the hinterland.”
“Get me the details. We need to move quickly.”
The woman nodded and set to work.
“Gear up, everyone. We’re going in to get the Turana.”
* * * *
Dria fumed and worked feverishly at the bonds behind her back. Damn them to the seven hells and back!
How in the world had Simpson got past Marcus’s stringent safety protocols? She knew Marcus had been concerned enough that he’d arranged for her to be placed in the barracks after the situation at the hotel.
The room where her captors had stashed her had a view of the mountains and foliage outside. She grimaced, knowing that even if she got away, she didn’t have a clue as to where she was or where to go.
Hell, she didn’t even know which continent she was on. Who knew what human transmitters were capable of? After all, they’d had access to the Ba’Tuan technology for nearly a quarter of a century. Did they have geographic limitations like theirs?
Each tug at her bonds tore at her skin, but she remained quiet while she worked.
The door opened, and she stilled. “Where am I, and why did you take me?” The questions were rhetorical. The first one wouldn’t be answered and the second was merely textbook.
She needed to keep them from inspecting the ties at her back, otherwise they’d know she was almost free.
“Turana, glad to finally meet you. Our Simpson did his work quite well and followed my instructions.”
Dria frowned at the woman who took a seat in the chair in front of her. She was likely in her sixth decade, but well preserved with immaculate hair and carefully applied cosmetics.
“You’re here because you represent the Ba’Tua. We would have preferred scaring you off, but you’re more than you appear. You were supposed to have been a silly piece of royal fluff with more hair than brains. Sadly, you’ve brought this on yourself as you involved yourself in human politics.” The woman looked down and observed her nails.
“Who are you?”
She gazed up at Dria and smiled. “Oh, so they never told you about me. Your mother and that bloody Cedun. My name is Felicity Kensington-Mare. You can call me Floss. That’s how your mother knows me.” She smiled broadly, and it was cold. Full of menace.
Floss? The name didn’t ring a bell, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? “Why do you want the human and Ba’Tuan Accord to fail? Our combined strength—”
“Oh, stop chattering at me. You’re not as dumb as you make out. Surely you know? My lover was your mother’s partner for years. He wasn’t human or Ba’Tuan.” The final words were triumphant, and a glimmer of amusement filled her eyes.
Dria’s belly cramped. The Galecian? “You aren’t one of them?”
“Oh no. They weren’t really interested in me when they came to retrieve Garret, but I offered them a deal. Something far more...long term. I offered to destroy the agreement between the humans and Ba’Tuans if they would in turn give me supplies. Oh, and I demanded revenge on your mother. Anything I want they give me because they want Earth to join their alliance.”
A chi
ll invaded Dria’s body. The Galecians weren’t a species to form any kind of alliance with. They invaded, took slaves, and killed indiscriminately. A quick glance in Floss’s direction told her there was no way the woman would listen rationally to anything she had to say on the matter.
Still, Dria needed to make one final attempt. “Look, Floss. Let me help you. You let me go and—”
The woman barked out a laugh—menacing and deep. For the first time Dria felt fear for herself.
“Dear, no matter what you do, the Galecians and I will rid Earth of the Ba’Tuan plague. Now, make yourself comfortable. They’ll be here soon for you.” With that, Floss rose and left her alone.
Hurry up, Marcus. Otherwise I’m in deep trouble.
* * * *
They transmitted to the location they’d chosen and Marcus cursed as a frond hit him in the face.
“Where the hell are we?” His furious snarl left several men recoiling.
“Sir, we’re less than a kilometer from the Turana’s location. By my calculations, we need to head over this rise and in the middle of the valley we’ll find wherever she’s being held.
Marcus grunted and checked his stingray-450 semi-automatic rifle. After a week of urban fieldwork it felt odd in his hand—clumsy and unwieldy. He checked the terrain before striding out. The rest of his team would follow.
The ground beneath his feet crunched, and he silently cursed. It didn’t help that his mind told him to slow down and plan, while his heart screamed there was little time left.
They moved as swiftly as possible, but took more care and attention as they ascended the ridge. At the top, he dragged field glasses from his utility belt. Nestled within the trees was a small house.
With swift movements, he silently organized his team. Three would head to the back of the property once he’d signaled it was safe. He and three others would take the main entrance.
Disquiet filled him. Where were the guards that should be posted? The Incubi had successfully caused urban chaos, but here, there should be at least five or more guards posted. None of this made sense to him. It seemed like they didn’t realize the gravity of the situation should they be detected. Or was there more?
He signaled for the group to advance, and he realized the building was more like a multi-roomed hut. Decrepit with shingles in need of replacing.
At the edge of the treeline, they stilled and Marcus waited, hidden by a tree fern. No movement. Odd.
Two grotty windows flanked the front door. Four small steps and a broken handrail led to the front door he wanted to avoid, at least until he knew he wasn’t endangering Dria by entering. The windows had no curtains, so he’d need to be careful peering in. He needed to know exactly where they’d stashed Dria before entering the cottage.
The thumping of his heart crashed in his chest.
One click of his comm unit told them he was going in alone.
He advanced slowly, his eyes moving left and right. A bird in the distance screeched and took flight, and Marcus stilled. Waited.
The building was less than ten meters now and he dashed toward it, careful to scoot along the outer walls in silence.
He waited, letting his breathing settle.
Which window to check first? The door canted slightly to the left. It followed logic that the main room, then, was to the left. He’d be better to try the right first.
Marcus hugged the wall, sliding slowly until he was beneath the window. He turned and reached up, ensuring he remained at the very corner, then peered within.
The sight before him was chilling. There was Dria, tied to the wall.
He watched for a moment as she twisted and turned. As if some connection between them alerted her, she looked up and caught sight of him.
He lifted a finger to his lips and indicated he intended to raise the window. She glanced at the door in unspoken warning.
At his nod she stilled and some of the concern on her face melted away.
He slipped the rifle over his shoulder and braced himself, pushing against the wood. It moved a little way, then stilled. With a small grunt he slid the fingers of one hand then the other below the partly raised slider and tried again. It moved a little further, but not enough to let him in.
He peered at the sides, looking for an obstruction. Nothing. Maybe there was a stopper on the edge?
Taking the weight on one side, he slid his arm in and twisted enough to feel around. Sure enough something obstructed his way. Carefully, he gripped the panel of wood and removed it.
Now the window opened and he climbed within.
Dria gave one last jerk and freed herself. “Took you a while to get here.”
He nearly laughed with joy. Instead, he released a whoosh of air from his lungs.
Leaning forward, he whispered against her neck. “We need to be quick.”
Her nod acknowledged his words. She too kept her voice low. “The ringleader is Floss. She knew my parents before they married, and she’s the head of the Incubi. They’re in league with the Galecians.”
He’d heard the term Galecian before but couldn’t place it. “Who are—”
“We don’t have time for this. They’re on their way, and we have to get out of here.” Dria shoved against him, pushing him back the way he came.
Confusion filled him. Up until now, fear hadn’t been something that Dria had exhibited. Clearly the Galecians put the wind up her.
“Dria, where are the Incubi?”
She shook her head. “We don’t have time to find them. Just get us out of here.” She stumbled to the window and started to climb out just as a roar emanated from overhead.
* * * *
The roar told her time was up. The Galecians had arrived. The cold, hard pit that formed in her belly when Floss had told her about her agreement became stone-like.
“We’re too late. How many men do you have?” She reached out and grasped Marcus’s shirt, twisting it in her hand.
“Another six. Why? Who is that, and what the hell was that noise?”
Before Dria could answer, the door burst open and Floss entered, her eyes wild. “What...” She stopped at the entrance, taking in the sight of Marcus.
In seconds, Floss recovered and whipped a tiny laser pistol from her pocket. Dria watched the woman as she considered their situation.
Two of us. Floss with a gun. Galecian ship overhead. The odds were bad. In fact, they were horrific.
“You have to let us go, Floss. If the Galecians get what they want, all humans will be little more than slaves. That’s not what you want, is it?”
Floss ignored her concerns.
Her words were useless, and the sensation of failure filled her. They were going to die.
Her mind emptied of everything except fear for herself, but more so, for Marcus. The truth stunned her. I can’t let the man I love die!
She felt responsible that he was mixed up in all this. How could this happen? His experience was in dealing with humans, not Galecians. They were a totally different kettle of fish. If I don’t do something now, everything will be lost. The thought freed her from the fear-induced paralysis.
“You have to let us go.” She leaned forward, mentally calculating the distance between herself and the other woman.
Dria balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to move when Marcus did. He rushed the woman, fast as lightning. Even as Floss turned and fired, the door burst open again and three Galecians entered. Marcus wavered, a flash of red appearing on his clothes, then he slumped to the floor.
“Nooooo!” Dria swept around, leg raised to attack Floss. The sound of her foot against Floss’s leg made a thwacking noise. The tiny weapon fell to the floor, and Dria dove for it. Her hand clasped it and she turned, rising up.
“Wait, Turana!” The lead Galecian raised both hands in an attitude of treaty.
Dria panted and waited. “Leave him alone!” She waved the weapon from side to side, unsure which currently was the bigger threat, her mind scrambled by the know
ledge that Marcus was hurt.
The officer turned to her, then pointed at Marcus who groaned. “He’s injured, but it’s not life threatening. Should I offer medical assistance, Gurdu?”
The leader, Gurdu, looked in her direction. “Yes. Have Manteru take the female human into custody.”
“What?” What the hell was going on? Dria shook her head. “What are you doing here? Earth is a protected planet under the Callistan Agreement. Galecia has no business here.” Her voice wobbled, and she silently acknowledged her words were full of bravado.
Marcus was injured, Galecians were there with weapons, and there were maybe six other humans somewhere out there. Why weren’t they in here?
The whine of a transmitter filled the air, and a tactical guardian from her own planet appeared before her. The gold and yellow of his uniform and the purple pips told her of his position as Commander. “Turana, we’re here on your father’s orders.”
The gun she’d been holding slid to the floor with a thud. “My father’s orders?”
Joruzan, her step-grandfather, materialized beside her. “Commander, Ist’an, Turana. I see all is...” His voice broke off, and his gaze locked on Marcus. The one who’d first advanced had knelt beside him and was already cutting away the material from his wound site.
“Would someone please explain what the hell is going on?” She looked at Joruzan. “You, Joruzan. Explain to me what is happening.”
“Your father and the Galecian, Ran’uzan, created a political alliance three years ago. When the ruler, Amu’zan, passed on. Emperoer Ran’uzan became the next in line to the throne, after Emperor Vil’nak. Emporer Vil’nak died two days ago. Ran’uzan immediately enacted a treaty and sent Gurdu, his second, to deal with this situation. He’d been aware that there were factions that coveted Earth. Ran’uzan neutralized them and wants to enter into treaty negotiations. Their power base has dwindled with Vil’nak’s desire to colonize and has left them open to attack.”
Dria looked at the man she’d known for so long. “But why wasn’t I informed about...”