At least, that was his hope. It would have to work out. Zemos was not going to leave his woman behind in this brutal trap of an existence.
* * * *
An hour later, Elisa found herself back in maximum security detention. Zemos had decided to lock her in the guard’s office while he tried to rescue his crew. He smiled at her after he disabled the room’s com unit, drawing near enough to touch. Elisa half-hoped, half-feared he would make contact with her. Her chaotic thoughts continued to churn as she wondered what she should do about her situation.
Zemos licked his lips as he regarded her. A firestorm of emotions raced over his expression: worry, anger, hope, and concern. Elisa even fooled herself into seeing a moment of softness on his face, the look of a man staring at the woman he loved.
His fingertips brushed her hair back from her face, and she managed to not lean into his touch. I am his prisoner. I mean nothing more to him, she reminded herself.
Zemos sighed. “I wish I could take that hurt expression off your face.” He shook himself and went into what Elisa was beginning to regard as ‘captain-mode’. “I will be right back. Don’t speak to Coombs. The less your active involvement is known, the better your chances at avoiding trouble with your crew, should I fail to take over this ship. I don’t want you punished if at all possible.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he turned to leave the room. Elisa halted him by saying his name. “Zemos.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Are you going to kill the guards?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll do what I must to free my men.”
Elisa swallowed. “There’s one guard – no more than a boy. His name is Larsen, and he’s treated your crew with nothing but kindness. He feels what’s happened to you is wrong.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Please Zemos, if Larsen is on duty, don’t hurt him.”
The Dramok stared at her for a long beat. He said, “In such situations, even the innocent often fall. If he offers no trouble, he will live.”
With that, the Kalquorian left the room. The distinctive buzz of the door locking was all Elisa needed to bring tears to her eyes. She sat down in the chair behind her, making it squeak.
Coombs had apparently regained consciousness, which was something of a relief. His thick, frightened voice echoed down the cell block’s corridor. “Hello? Is someone there? Help! The Kalquorians have escaped and locked me up! Hello?”
Elisa covered her dripping eyes without answering. If she was loyal to her own kind, she would run in, help Coombs escape his cell, and find a way out of here to alert Captain Walker. Yet her conscience asserted louder than ever that Walker had been wrong to take Zemos’ crew prisoner. They had every right to attempt escape.
The thought that Elisa might do anything that would hurt Zemos, Oret, or Miragin was too awful to contemplate. Yet, what if her fellow Earthers died at Kalquorian hands?
The situation was out of control. Elisa had no idea what she should do. She simply sat and listened to the far-off sound of Coombs pacing the floor. Apparently, he’d given up thinking anyone was there.
Only a few minutes had passed before the door to the corridor clicked and slid open. She looked up to find Zemos striding in.
The Dramok’s brows drew tight together as he looked at her tear-streaked face. He didn’t comment on her crying however.
“Let’s go. Hurry.” Zemos took her arm and hustled her towards the general population brig.
Before they got close enough to trigger that guard office’s door, Zemos stopped her. He drew Elisa close, molding the back of her body to the front of his. Elisa was terribly aware of the man, of his heat and strength.
She gasped when the Dramok covered her eyes with one hand while keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist.
“Easy, Elisa,” he whispered. “I just want to make sure you can’t look. Walk where I take you and don’t try to see anything. Once we’re out of the guards’ station, I’ll uncover your eyes.”
“What did you do?” she whispered hoarsely.
“What I had to. The two guards I found in there are dead.”
Elisa moaned. “Not Larsen. He was stuck here, like me.”
“No, not your young guard. I checked, and that name was not the badges on either of the men on duty. They went for weapons, Elisa. I had no choice.”
At least Elisa could feel relief that the traumatized Larsen had been spared. However, the worst had happened. Men had died so that Zemos and his men could gain their freedom.
Too demoralized to object, Elisa allowed Zemos to pilot her around. He even lifted her for a few steps, and she wondered if he had carried her over someone’s dead body. His footfalls were silent. When the Kalquorian captain set her back on her feet and prodded her on, it was only her light steps that she heard. When they began to echo a little, she knew they had left the guard’s office and stepped into the main brig’s cell block.
Zemos stopped and let her go. “Well done, Elisa. I’m going to get my men out now.”
Elisa blinked. The office and its dead were just at their backs. Two steps forward and they entered the corridor of the cell block.
The Kalquorian crew seemed to know something odd was up, because to a man they stared at the entrance as Elisa and Zemos came in. Those sitting on the floor and on bunks rose to their feet so quickly that they appeared to disappear and re-materialize. Excited exclamations died as Zemos held up his hands for quiet.
The men were every bit as silent as their captain, though savage joy lit their faces. The absolute absence of sound helped Zemos’ low voice carry throughout the entire room.
“There is a lift to the cargo hold through that door at the far end of the room. I will be with the first group to go to Level Two, where we will gather in Cargo Hold Five. I will explain everything else once we have made it safely there.”
All the men nodded. Elisa couldn’t help but be impressed with how they were instantly ready to respond and follow orders. No one wanted explanations. Their trust in Zemos’ leadership seemed steadfast.
With his hand curled around her arm, Zemos led Elisa down the corridor to the far end, using Coomb’s field disruptor to take down all the containment. The men followed without passing a single word between themselves. There were a few footfalls to be heard, but for the most part it was like walking with ghosts.
Elisa stared at the intent faces surrounding her, at these warriors ready to continue the killing for a chance at regaining their lives. She had no doubt that most were as deadly as Zemos. Some looked like they might even be as lethal as Oret.
All Elisa could hope for was that no one would get in their way as they made their escape.
* * * *
Oret led the way down quiet, dim corridors with Miragin on his heels. He felt the need to keep his Imdiko safe and worried that he wouldn’t be able to. Being all that stood between Miragin and a ship full of enemies had the Nobek hyper alert. Knowing the horrific odds against them getting out of their predicament alive put him on edge. Oret’s fangs were down, unhinged under the stress of having a clanmate not used to fighting his way through danger. It only got worse when Oret thought of Zemos and Elisa daring their lives elsewhere without him there to protect them.
The Nobek never settled into complacency, even with empty hallway after empty hallway stretching before him. It was a good thing; just as he was about to enter yet another corridor, he heard a footfall coming from the direction he wanted to go in.
Oret waved at Miragin to stay still. The Imdiko immediately froze, his eyes wide as he obeyed his clanmate. Oret concentrated on the footsteps coming closer, nearing the T-junction where they stood. Only one person approached, so he holstered the percussion blaster. Snapping the neck of the luckless foe heading their way would be much quieter than shooting him and alerting others of their presence.
Oret readied himself to kill. The footsteps came closer, only a few feet away now. The sounds paused. An instant lat
er came the telltale noise of an automatic door hissing open. The footsteps resumed for an instant before the door hissed closed again, cutting them off.
When silence reigned for a few seconds, Oret crept to the corner and peered around. No one waited in the corridor. He eased down and pulled the blaster out once more. A quick nod to Miragin and they were on the move again.
They got to the ship’s transport lift with no further signs of anyone moving about. “Seventh level,” Oret told the conveyance. The doors shut and the floor beneath the two Kalquorians shifted.
Relaxing a little now that they were out of the open, Miragin offered Oret a wan smile. “Apparently Elisa took your warning to heart about sending us among enemies.”
Oret grimaced. “I hated to threaten her like that. She’s blaming herself for what we’re doing.”
The Imdiko nodded. “I sensed that too. Poor girl, she must be so torn right now.”
Oret thought they should be nearing their destination. “Hang back close to this conveyance when we get to our level. I’m going to have to kill whoever is on duty in the arms supply.”
Miragin’s jaw tensed a little, but his tone was even as he spoke. “No doubt Zemos had to kill the guards holding the crew. It’s too bad it’s come to more bloodshed.”
Oret couldn’t stop himself from reminding his clanmate, “They attacked us first. What happens to them now is on their own heads.”
He felt them come to a stop and readied himself. The door opened, and Oret checked the area outside of the lift. The corridor here was short, leading to another T-junction. With no one around, Oret and Miragin stepped out.
The Nobek said, “If anyone besides me comes along, jump back in and go to the cargo level. Find Zemos.”
Miragin nodded. Oret was sure of his Imdiko; certain he would follow the instructions to the letter even if it meant leaving Oret behind. It wasn’t because Miragin was a coward. Miragin would obey because he trusted his Nobek implicitly, especially in a dangerous situation like this.
Assured Miragin would get out if things went bad, Oret dashed to the corner where the next corridor waited. He peered down the length of the hallway.
To his left, the hallway was short with only one door in that direction. Oret squinted at the Earther word written on it, taking a moment to decipher it: Maintenance. The layout of this level came to mind, and he recalled the room behind that door was small and seemed unimportant. When he’d asked, Elisa had confirmed that the room probably only contained tools used to make repairs to the ship.
In the other direction was a large, open window with another door set next to it. Oret saw the racks of plasma rifles, grenade guns, and percussion blasters behind the window. It almost gave him an erection to see all that firepower waiting for him.
Also on the other side of the window was the top of someone’s bald head. It appeared at the lower right of the opening, telling Oret whoever was in there was sitting down. Then he heard a voice say something indecipherable. Another voice answered, followed by laughter.
Two men. He could handle that.
Oret again holstered the blaster he held. He crouched low and went into motion, running as fast and silently as he could. In less than a breath, he reached the window and dove through it.
The bald man had no time to do anything but gasp before Oret wrenched his head around backwards, killing him quickly and cleanly. Letting the body flop to the floor, the Nobek turned to the second man, who stared in shock for an instant. This one was perhaps Elisa’s age, with threads of gray running through his short-cropped hair. He’d been standing just beyond the window, leaning up against the wall.
The Earther managed a startled shout and lunged for the closest rack, one filled with plasma rifles. Oret was on him before he could finish his cry or even a single step. He dispatched that man as well.
When he had no choice but to kill, Oret was little bothered by doing so. However, he knew seeing the evidence of such violence might disturb his sensitive Imdiko. Oret located a closet within the supply room and dragged his victims into it. He saw to it that the door was locked so Miragin wouldn’t accidentally trigger it open. The two bodies, with their heads twisted the wrong way, were out of sight and out of Oret’s mind in a matter of seconds.
The Nobek trotted back to where the corridors met and signaled his clanmate to join him. Miragin did so, grinning when he saw the small arms inventory neatly lined up. He glanced around and motioned to a hover cart on one end of the room.
“Load it up?”
Oret snapped a nod. “Quickly, my Imdiko.”
They worked swiftly, Miragin taking direction from his warrior clanmate without pause. As soon as Oret was satisfied with the number of firearms they’d collected, they moved their prizes farther down the corridor where the cargo lift waited.
Oret was just thinking how the operation had gone much too easily when a shout sounded behind him.
“Hey! What the fuck?”
Oret turned in a flash, simultaneously shoving Miragin to the floor. The young Earther crewman he faced was not armed that he could see. The sandy-haired youth turned and ran while grabbing for something in his pocket.
Either the kid had panicked or no one had ever told him it could be lethal to run from a Nobek ... especially one trying to keep a clanmate safe from harm. Oret’s thinking mind shut down, leaving only animal instinct. In an instant he was after the Earther, responding to the primitive predator urge to run his victim down and kill it.
Oret caught up to the white-faced crewman as he raised a com to his lips. One swing sent the com flying. The next few seconds were a flurry of heat and blood and strangled cries.
When Oret’s thinking brain reasserted itself, he groaned to see the mangled mess at his feet. There was no time for conscience however. Claxons blared, making his ears ring. With a despairing look at his victim, Oret turned and ran back to Miragin, wiping bloody hands on his pant legs as he went.
He told his pale Imdiko, “It sounds like we’re out of time. Let’s go.”
They shoved the hover cart into the cargo lift and set off for their hiding place. When they got to the cargo level, the doors opened on six Nobeks snarling and ready to attack.
Seeing members of his security force and knowing that Elisa and Zemos had gotten through their mission erased Oret’s tension. He even grinned as the other Nobeks straightened from their attack stances and offered him deep bows of respect.
He walked among his men, pounding his fists against chests in celebration. “It’s good to see you all again. Did everyone get out?”
The Nobeks returned his enthusiastic greeting, happily thumping his chest in return. One answered, “Yes, Commander. Allow me to escort you to the captain.”
With their escort and the cart full of weapons, Oret and Miragin headed for the cargo hold where Zemos and the survivors of the destroyer crew already prepared to barricade themselves. The Nobek knew there was a long way to go yet until they were free, but he couldn’t help the surge of elation he felt to have gotten this far. He was eager to move on to the next phase of the plan.
* * * *
In Captain Walker’s ready room, tactical officer Alec Robards paced in front of Joseph’s desk. Twenty years the captain’s senior, Robards’ lined face appeared even older with his jaw clenched and eyes squinting as he ranted and raved. Joseph thought the lieutenant commander’s once-dark hair had grayed appreciably since he last saw him five hours ago.
Robards’ knotty-knuckled hands clenched in fists as he tried to grind his teeth into powder. “Five men are dead. The heathen freaks blew two of them away in cold blood with Ensign Coombs’ blaster. Two nearly had their heads ripped off, and the last—”
He didn’t finish. What they had found of one man had barely been identifiable. It looked like a grizzly bear had savaged him.
The captain offered the small bits of hope he could. “Coombs is alive. Miss Mackenzie is possibly still alive and a hostage since her body hasn’t been found.�
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Sitting across from his desk, First Officer Mitchell Chase pursed his thin lips and shook his head. As slender as a praying mantis and nearly as pretty, Chase scared Joseph the worst of anyone on board the ship. The man knew almost nothing of kindness as far as the young captain had ever seen.
Chase layered so much remorse into his voice that it sounded faked. “Not that Miss Mackenzie’s life matters now. We know the deviant urges those monsters have. No doubt they have already exposed her to sexual misconduct. She has been sullied in the eyes of God.”
Robards paused and nodded his agreement. “She must be listed as dead too. Even if they didn’t kill her with their inhuman lusts, she no doubt would prefer her life over now that she’s been raped. I’ve told my men not to hesitate. If they find the Kalquorians and her with them, her life is not to be spared.”
Joseph sat up straight in his chair. “Now hold on. She didn’t ask to be a part of this horror. She’s an innocent.”
Chase’s wispy blond hair, thinning to show the pink of his scalp, waved in the air as he shook his head. “She’s sullied, Captain. Remember what our Holy Leader said when he warned we would be invaded. ‘Cut your wives and daughters’ throats rather than have them endure being raped by our enemies.’ Bless her soul, but Elisa Mackenzie cannot be saved.”
He looked at the vid portrait hanging on the wall over Joseph’s head, the one showing Browning Copeland looking heavenward with an exalted smile. The mindless adoration with which Chase gazed at their leader made Joseph shudder inside. The captain refused to look at the vid with him.
Instead he told his officers, “Killing women to save them from being raped is the responsibility of husbands and fathers. No one else may do so, and Elisa has neither on this ship.”
Robards stared at him in shock. “Then you must stand in their place as her captain. Surely you don’t sanction a ruined woman to be spared, not after she has known sin.”
“She is a victim! The sin is not hers!” Joseph said, forgetting his nervousness in the face of passionate belief.
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