by Cara Bristol
She activated the com link. “This is Omra, breeder of Alpha Commander Dak,” she announced formally as she spied on him through the glass. She could view him, but he could not see her.
“I am Veya, beta of Alpha Commander Tarbek. I must speak to you about a matter of utmost importance.” He glanced at the window.
Whisperflies fluttered within. He cannot see you. “Yes?”
“I demand we meet face-to-face.”
She rubbed her sweaty palms on her thighs. “Under Alpha’s orders I am not able to permit entry to anyone.”
He jerked slightly as if he’d checked an automatic movement to glance over his shoulder at the tall pillars. A blind spot. She scanned the horizon. She could see everywhere but behind the massive stone columns. The hair on her nape tingled. Was someone else out there?
“Alpha is the reason I have come.” He sighed and shook his head. “I am afraid I have disturbing news.”
“What news?” Her stomach plunged. “Did something happen to Da—Alpha?” She reached to unbolt door but froze on the lever. “Trust no one.” Dak had been adamant. No one was more perceptive than he. She lowered her hand.
“I am grieved to report Alpha Commander Dak perished this morning.”
“No!” Pain rifled through her. In denial, she clung to Dak’s words. “Trust no one.” “No, he’s not dead. You’re lying!”
“What reason would I have to lie?
“I don’t know. But I don’t believe you.” Not Dak. Not Dak. Not Dak. Veya has to be lying. He has to. She could not bear her existence if he spoke the truth.
Omra sank onto the floor and hugged her knees, rocking back and forth. In her position she could no longer see Veya, although she could hear him shout through the com line.
“Open the door, Omra,” he ordered.
“Go away!” “Trust no one.” Veya lied. If Dak were dead, she’d know.
But the uneasiness. The anxiety.
Tarbek’s beta thumped on the door. “Omra!”
“Go AWAY!” she screamed and jabbed the button to break the com link.
Dak dead? Not true. But Tarbek’s beta had asked the question himself; why would he lie?
Unless he had teamed up with Sival, and he employed a ruse to lure her out of the domicile. She’d accepted his aid in the Market only to be trapped in the conveyance. Had that been the plan? She’d never told Dak of Veya’s involvement in her adventure. It had been a question, but short of a certainty, she did not want to lob accusations against another Alpha’s beta and cause a political incident. But now, she wished she’d mentioned it.
Omra curled her legs beneath her on the hard stone floor and rested her head against the wall. She smoothed her hands over her flat abdomen. She needed to stay calm for Dak’s baby. Alpha had promised she could keep her child. Had vowed to protect her. He would live to make good on his word.
She recalled his pleasure with the shirt she’d sewn. Remembered the magical fine texture and softness of the fabric—and the strength and hardness of Dak’s physique underneath. He was one of the fiercest warriors in all the land. Not invincible, but not easily conquered either.
She had only to wait for tomorrow.
The visitor announcer sounded again.
She presented a deaf ear. Let Tarbek’s beta stay outside all night. Dak would dispatch him posthaste upon his arrival if he was foolish enough to remain there that long.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzz.
She ignored the persistent signals until her ire ignited. As Alpha’s breeder, she operated under his authority. She had told Veya to leave. He had no business to cause a nuisance. She scrambled to her feet and glanced out the window.
She widened her eyes.
She activated the com line. “Anika?”
Through the glass she gaped at her friend standing beside Veya. She reached to draw the bolt. “Trust no one.” But Anika? “What are you doing here?” She stilled her hand over the locking mechanism.
Tears poured down Anika’s white face. Her gaze darted to Veya, then to her feet. “It…it’s true, Omra.”
Omra clutched her throat. She can’t mean—“What’s true?”
“W-What you were told a-about the Commander. Alpha is dead.”
Agony sliced through Omra. The words from a trusted friend could not be false.
Nor could the peal of the village bell that pierced the silence. The carillon rang only when an Alpha had died.
Omra burst into tears, and yanked back the bolt.
METAL CLANKED, THE fortified door swung open, and Dak’s breeder rushed outside. Corren nodded at Sival, and they stepped from behind the pillars as Veya grabbed Omra. Sival secured a grip on Anika, although she could not have gotten far due to the injury done to her feet.
“I’m sorry. They forced me to assist them, Omra,” she cried.
The bell pealed again and would continue to ring throughout the day. The knell would carry to the next village, which would strike its own bell. The message would travel across the land. Alpha was dead.
Corren felt Tarbek’s triumph almost as if it were his own. The four of them had set out that morning with a mission: Tarbek to neutralize Dak, and Corren and the two betas to secure Omra’s sale to the interplanetary trader. Only the breeder had refused to open the fortified door.
They’d had a stroke of luck when the breeder’s friend had come to pay Omra a visit. She’d refused to cooperate at first, but they’d dragged her to the stables in order to muffle her shrieks should they carry beyond the compound. He doubted Omra would hear the screams; the soundproofing of Dak’s abode filtered out external noise in addition to containing noises inside. Of course, if the drakor breeder had heard, she might have come running, which was what they had wanted anyway.
Corren eyed a struggling Omra with dislike. She was incorrigible—did not behave in a manner befitting her gender. Though Veya had wrenched her arms behind her, she continued to fight—shrieking and trying to stomp on his feet, even cursing them by name. Why did Veya permit it? Enough! Corren stepped forward and struck her across the face. Her head snapped to the left, allowing him the pleasure of backhanding her so that it cracked to the other side.
“Are we going to sell this one too?” Sival gestured at Anika.
No wonder the man lost his position at the BCF. How had he ever attained it in the first place? He was stupid. “No, she isn’t worth anything,” Corren explained in a patronizing tone that sailed over Sival’s head. “We must continue to offer unique, quality breeders to maintain a high price.”
He smirked. Quality breeder? An oxymoron. Such a creature did not exist, but the ignorant interplanetary traders didn’t know that.
“But what if Commander Dak’s breeder isn’t pure anymore?” Sival asked.
Corren knew she wasn’t and presumed Dak had engaged in all manner of depravities with her, not to mention permitting her liberties beyond her status. He had spotted trouble the instant Dak had drawn up in the conveyance with the breeder asleep against him. But he hadn’t figured she would supplant him. The interloper almost had robbed him of his direct access to Alpha. To power.
“As long as a female appears to have special qualities, Commander Tarbek can sell them to raise funds for his private military force. This one will bring a particularly high price because she belonged to an Alpha,” Veya explained with more patience than Sival deserved.
Corren’s only regret—and Tarbek’s too, he knew—was that Dak would not feel the loss of his most prized possession.
The evening he’d considered the most humiliating moment of his life instead had proven the turning point. Tarbek had contacted him, requested his assistance with a grand plan, and Corren had wormed his way into the Alpha’s inner circle, supplanting Veya as Tarbek’s confidant and sounding board.
Once he had considered Dak the most powerful Alpha, but Tarbek had proved otherwise. While Dak had failed to raise concern among the High Council members over the treatment of the breeders, Tarbek had feared that i
f his brother continued his investigations, he might uncover his plot to mobilize a guerilla army to overthrow the other Commanders and rule as the sole Alpha of Parseon. So Tarbek had been forced to kill him. His plan had been to make it appear like an act of self-defense, to make it appear Dak had struck first.
Corren sized up Veya. He was keen of mind, likable, and loyal to Tarbek. But, if he were to suffer an accident—say, like the one that had befallen Kumar, Corren could finalize the shipment of breeders himself. Tarbek would recognize his leadership, could get him redesignated as alpha, perhaps even promoted to subcommander.
Corren glanced at Sival. Best not to leave any witnesses. Even stupid ones.
Sival tilted his head toward Omra’s breeder friend. “So what are we going to do with her?”
How could the man function when he was so distracted by extraneous details?
“This.” Corren drew his dagger and slashed her throat.
“ANIKA!” Dak’s breeder screamed and slammed her head into Veya’s chin, loosening his grip enough to break free. She ran, but Corren tackled her. He flipped her over. Though she gasped for air, she fought, flailing her arms, striking at his face, scratching at his eyes.
By straddling her chest, he pinned her arms, but she bucked and tried to knee him. “Breeder, drakor!” He pummeled her, striking her in the face until her blood ran, and she stopped moving.
“Do not damage her to the extent she cannot be sold,” Veya said, pragmatic as always.
“She will spend many weeks in transit before she reaches Verona,” Corren said, but he rose to his feet and flexed his knuckles. “Any blemishes will clear. And it isn’t her face the buyer cares about.” Omra’s shift had ridden up over her hips in the skirmish to reveal her sex, secured by the lock-ring. “The telenium alone will command a hefty price,” he said.
“We had better make haste and deliver her to the interplanetary docking station,” Veya urged. “Neither the buyer nor Tarbek was pleased when she failed to arrive the last time.”
“An unfortunate occurrence that must not happen again. Agreed,” Corren said. He’d punished Enyi severely for his inattention. Corren kicked Omra’s crumpled body and then signaled to Sival to pick her up. “Let us depart.”
Chapter Eighteen
On any other day, the g-forces applied to his body by the sky tram were bothersome, but Dak scarcely noticed the pressure. The tram could not move fast enough to suit his urgency. He cursed himself for not giving Omra a personal communication device. Though he and Omra broke new ground each day, he was still a man of his culture, which assumed breeders didn’t need PCDs. Who would they communicate with? Now he saw the error of his ways. He had learned his lesson—like most involving Omra—the hard way.
Bells rang across Parseon, announcing the death of an Alpha, and he feared Omra might assume he had passed.
If his brother had had his way, it would have been him. The Bridge of Amity had hindered Dak’s ability to defend against the thrust of Tarbek’s dagger, but when the knife failed to penetrate his shirt, Dak was able to grab his own weapon. He’d stared into his brother’s surprised eyes and, with a swipe, ended Tarbek’s life.
He could not regret the death of his enemy with whom he’d once shared the womb. Circumstances had forecast he would be forced to choose between his life or his brother’s. He rubbed the aching bruise below his breastbone. The force of Tarbek’s jab should have driven the knife to the hilt into vital organs. Instead he had been left with a minor hematoma.
Dak fingered the shirt Omra had given him. He’d heard the Terrans had engineered composite fabrics impenetrable to shrapnel and projectiles. To knives. Had Omra sewn his shirt from such a fabric? It must have taken special needles to penetrate the cloth. He’d vowed to protect her, but it appeared she had saved him.
He exited the tram and hurried toward his domicile.
Just inside the boundaries of his compound, he found the first body. A guard. Slain.
Dak ran. Closer to the abode, he spied another. He approached the gray-uniform-clad mass. Kumar lay supine, his sightless eyes widened to the sky, his throat laid open to the bone.
Into his PCD he yelled for security and medical reinforcements as he charged for his domicile.
“It will be fine. Trust me.” He had promised her.
Under the portico, he spotted another body, a smaller one in beige, on its side. His feet couldn’t keep up with his brain. “No. No! NO!” A fireball of anguish and rage propelled him toward the crumpled form. “OMRA!”
He slipped and fell in a pool of blood. Crawled to the female body. Turned it over.
A sob erupted from his throat.
It wasn’t her. He swiveled his head. The door swung on it hinges.
“It will be fine. Trust me.”
“OMRA!” He scrambled to his feet when he heard a gurgle. He snapped his attention to the body lying under the portico. The female’s eyes bulged in terror. She was alive!
Dak dropped to his knees. “A medical team is on its way.”
The female’s lips moved. He lowered his ear.
“Took…Omra.” Red frothed at her mouth.
“Who?” He prayed she lived long enough to provide the information he would need to save Omra.
“Sival,” she hissed, spewing blood. “Veya.” Her chin ran crimson. “C-Corren.”
Dak reared in shock. He had feared all along Tarbek would strike at Omra, and given recent history, Sival’s involvement did not surprise him, but Corren?
The female’s eyelids drooped. Dak shook her shoulder. “Where are they taking her?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “To the inter-inter…plan…etary dock. To sell.”
Six alpha guards and a beta medic team appeared. Dak rose to feet. “Spare nothing to save her.” Taking four of the guards and a medic with him, he ran for the tram.
Since the breeder still lived, much time could not have passed since Corren and the others had been there. But it would not take long to load Omra onto a transport.
* * * *
Shuttles and larger ships whooshed in and out of port. People shouted. Engines roared. Metal clanged. Dozens of foreign tongues melded into a discordant hiss. Parseon alphas and betas rushed among aliens so odd Omra would have gawked like a child if her situation hadn’t been so dire. Frantically she scanned the crowd, searching for a Terran, her only potential for rescue. As she had in the Market, she sensed they would assist her. Unlike the other aliens and her own race, Terrans did not join in slave trafficking. Which explained why there were no denizens from Terra in this far corner of the Interplanetary Dock. She’d never been in a crowd populated by so many females of all races as she saw today. Nearly all were shackled, an unnecessary encumbrance, since, judging from their shuffled gaits and slumped postures, their spirits had been broken long ago.
Omra choked back a sob and struggled against Corren’s hold as he dragged her through the mass. No one spared her a glance.
Corren laughed. “Go ahead. Scream some more if you want.”
She’d tried that when they’d first arrived. Screamed herself hoarse, yelled she was Alpha’s breeder and that Corren had taken her against Alpha’s will. The Commander’s name meant nothing in this part of the dock, frequented by murderers, slave traders, treasonists, and other criminals.
And Alpha was dead. Killed by Tarbek, who’d dispatched Veya, Corren, and Sival to capture her. But only Corren remained. He and Veya had murdered Sival and left his body to become carrion for the drakor. Before they’d reached the tram, an unsuspecting Veya had his throat cut by Corren. She’d attempted to flee then, but Corren had caught her easily, and she’d paid the price. As she’d covered her abdomen with her arms, he’d struck her several times with his fists.
Dak was dead. Anika was dead. So great was her despair, if she had not been carrying Dak’s child, she might have begged Corren to end her life too. But she would do anything to save their baby.
“Here. I’ll help you,” Corren mocked
her. “Help! Alpha’s breeder is being taken against her will. Help!”
His shouts attracted only raucous laughs.
He continued to yell as he hauled her along the space dock toward a large depot. Someone jostled them, and she managed to twist out of his grasp. But before she could travel more than a stride, he’d knocked her to the ground with a single blow, then hauled her kicking, thrashing body into the depot and dumped her onto the floor. He pinned her there with his booted foot.
“You are late. The other females have been loaded, and the shuttle is about to depart.” The words sounded garbled, as if the speaker sucked on a mouthful of stones. She had trouble understanding at first, but when the meaning penetrated, Omra peered up at the creature—and recoiled in horror.
Rheumy red eyes blazed out of a face so hideous, the blood stopped flowing in her veins. A mere slit formed the creature’s mouth, and from its pores oozed a rank gelatinous substance that slickened its scaly body.
Her stomach convulsed.
“This one was worth waiting for,” Corren said.
“Prove it.”
Corren hauled her to her feet and twisted her nipple ring. She cried out in pain. “Commander Dak’s insignia.” He gave it another twist, then yanked up her shift. Omra jerked away, and he cuffed her and grabbed the lock-ring. “Telenium,” he said. “Both rings.”
The creature inserted an inhaler into the slit in its face. Hissing ensued. It removed the breathing apparatus and fouled the air with its exhalation. Seeping eyes gleamed avariciously. “How does the lock-ring come off?”
“You must cut it.” Corren shrugged. “Or rip it off.”
“Very well.” The alien nodded and produced a bag of coin. “Perhaps I will keep this one for myself.”
Corren slipped on an elasticene glove and took the bag. He glanced at Omra. “The Veronians secrete a corrosive substance through their pores. One does not want one’s skin to come into contact with anything they have touched.” His teeth flashed.