Past the foyer, she glimpsed a dining room with a long rectangular table. It held a golden bowl laden with fruit and a set of chinaware. Her gaze flew to the gray-haired woman polishing a silver candelabrum.
Hope kindled in her chest that it might be Grace but when the woman turned, she suppressed a groan of disappointment. Still, her mentor might be employed elsewhere as household staff. Would this Grand Marshal keep records of the slaves who came through the transport device?
“Upstairs.” The burly Trollek prodded her in the spine.
She trudged up the steps, realizing she knew next to nothing about the Trollek lifestyle. This could provide an opportunity to learn more about them─assuming she survived whatever they had planned for her.
The guard shoved her toward a bedroom opening off the upstairs hall. Inside, a beefy Trollek sat cross-legged on a rumpled bed that faced the door. His nose was so long it curled inward toward his thick lips. Tufts of hair sprouted from his pate, almost obscured by his large ears.
Nira stifled a giggle. He reminded her of the Ferengi on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Did these beasts like their ears rubbed, too?
“Who does she belong to?” The Trollek’s nostrils flared as his derisive gaze scanned her.
“No idea, Your Eminence. Thought you might like a young one even if she is a bit too thin.”
“She isn’t marked for Tent Ten, is she?” The Grand Marshal favored her with a scowl. “I don’t mess with the experiments.”
“I didn’t see no tag. Ask her yerself about her kabak.”
Her guard wasn’t particularly respectful, making Nira wonder if the Grand Marshal’s post was considered civilian or military. Remembering how Algie had argued with the med tech, she made a mental note to discuss this defiant attitude among their ranks with Zohar next time she saw him. Where was he? Was he safe?
“Tell me who commands you.”
She glanced up, startled. The Grand Marshal glowered at her.
“Algie,” she blurted, before realizing that might get her into more trouble. What if this guy summoned her nemesis? She doubted Algie would be so blasé about their next encounter.
His gaze flickered, as though that name meant something to him. “Remove that scarf from your head so I can see you better.”
Was she supposed to obey any Trollek in the village? She complied, hoping a bulletin hadn’t been sent out matching her description.
The ugly brute studied her, his eyes narrowed, his breaths raspy. His eyes gleamed as though she were a bird he’d like to swallow whole. “You don’t look like you’ll last long, but we’ll see. Leave us.” He waved at her escort. “And shut the door on your way out.”
She willed her mind to blank, so he wouldn’t sense her apprehension. He beckoned her closer. Tiny quills of hair dotted the blemished flesh on his face like mini antennae.
It took an effort not to grimace as she approached. How could she turn this situation around to get information on Grace? There must be a database somewhere in this house if His Eminence truly was the administrative authority.
She halted before him and pressed her lips together as he stroked her arm. Schooling her features to hide her distaste, she searched for weapons in the periphery of her vision. It wouldn’t do to kill the village leader, but perhaps she could disable him long enough to escape.
She hoped Zohar was having better luck and didn’t do anything foolish to save her. Finding the jamming device was infinitely more important than one human life. If his team couldn’t shut down the portals and stop the dimensional drift from expanding, it meant curtains for everyone.
“Tell me, human, has your mistress taught you how to please a male of my caliber?” The Grand Marshal sneered while a dribble of drool leaked from his wide mouth and ran down his chin.
She shuddered inwardly. “I understand you like your ears massaged.” Leaning forward, she applied herself to the task. Ugh, they felt patchy like eczema. Don’t throw up, she told herself. Focus on your mission.
While he rolled his eyes in pleasure, she surveyed the room. A nightstand held a key ring, one of those sticks all the Trolleks carried, and a leather belt. The wall sconces precluded lamps, but that wooden chair might come in handy. She didn’t spot anything else that could be useful.
“Enough. Show me what else you’ve learned.” The Grand Marshal’s eyes gleamed in anticipation as he lay back on the pillow.
“Um…” She froze, unable to think what to do next.
“Never mind. I will instruct you. Strip off your clothes and then undress me.”
“As you command.”
She slipped off her tank top while frantically searching for a means out of this mess. When none came to mind, she stalled by offering a generous view of her cleavage. The beast licked his thick lips, watching her with beady eyes.
Steeling herself, she reached for his plaid shirt. His body odor made her itch to wrinkle her nose, but she resisted. Her fingers trembled as she unfastened his shirt, afraid he would become impatient. A hairy chest revealed itself, scarred from old wounds.
Tossing aside the shirt, she hesitated. No way could she undo his pants. His crotch bulged, showing his physiology in that department to be larger than a human counterpart. His endurance might last a lot longer, too.
Her throat went dry. This charade had to end now.
“Why do you delay? Get on with it, or perhaps you need an incentive.” Rolling to his side, the Grand Marshal reached under his bed to retrieve a whip with serrated metal tips.
If you were confounded, you’d show no fear. Do not react.
“I only wish to perform the huggabear ritual.” The words popped into her brain. “It is so much more enjoyable.”
“I have not heard of this practice. Describe it.” He flicked the whip lightly against his palm.
“Well, you remove your pants and lie face down on the bed.” She forced herself to stroke his abrasive jaw. “Then I mount you from behind. You will have to see what happens next, but it’s incredible.”
“Hmph.” He dropped the whip, reaching up to fondle her breasts while considering her offer.
She bit her lip, lifting her face to stare at the wall. She should snatch that whip and wrap it around his neck. If Princess Leia could strangle Jabba the Hutt, she could do it, at least enough to shut off his air and render him unconscious.
“You did not obey my order. Remove your clothing. I will not tell you to do so again, human.”
She swallowed, afraid she’d have to comply or he’d realize their spell didn’t work on her.
Her thoughts racing, she slid out of her pants, flushing under his lecherous perusal. If only she could ask questions, she’d at least gain information while seducing him. But slaves did not question their masters.
She didn’t blink when he rubbed her breasts through her bra and dipped his pudgy fingers down her cleavage. Instead, she swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and the nausea churning her stomach.
Snorting in triumph, he leapt to his feet and stripped off the rest of his garments while Nira gritted her teeth. He flopped himself onto the bed on his stomach. His buttocks showed not one ounce of flab, making her wonder how much strength would be required to subdue him.
“Pleasure me, woman.”
Nira reached for his belt, curled on the nightstand.
“Wait.”
Her hand froze. When she realized he was about to roll over, she pretended to be tugging off her panties.
“Your scent is…unusually arousing. We’ll do it my way first.” He yanked her down across his body.
“No.” Panic seized her. She’d kept it at bay, but now hysteria threatened to erupt. Her breaths came short and fast.
He grasped her panties, and she knew that once he ripped them off and flipped her onto her back, the game would be done.
“Now you’ll see what a real male can do,” he crowed.
No, I won’t.
She pushed against the mental barrier in her head, seeki
ng to diminish that incessant buzzing so she could fight him. A resistant force countered her efforts. She pressed against it, forcing the noise into a mental closet with an agonizing effort that left her breathless. With a final push, she shut the door.
A sudden silence ensued, during which the Trollek’s sweaty body went flaccid.
Nira thrust him away and hopped from the bed. Quick, before he rouses himself. She grabbed her clothes and yanked them on, uncertain about what had happened. Did it matter? This gave her a chance to get away.
Then she spared a moment to glance at him.
Her face blanched. Oh, no. His chest wasn’t rising.
She checked his pulse. His skin felt clammy. No rhythm beat beneath his wrist.
As realization hit, she recoiled in shock. The Trollek hadn’t merely passed out. He was dead.
And she had killed him.
****
Zohar glanced at the shuttered building nearest the stain on the ground and wondered at its purpose. Unlike the tradesmen’s shops he’d spotted along the main street, this place held no sign swinging from an overhead post.
Instead, its front door displayed a No Entry type of symbol. It wasn’t a wooden door like the others in town, either. He knocked, and his knuckles hit metal.
Curiosity compelled him to take a closer look. He pulled a tool from his belt and used it to jiggle the lock until the latch clicked. The noise sounded loud in the night air. Hoping no one would chance upon him, he twisted the knob, swung the door open, and slipped inside.
A coppery odor assailed him. He grimaced, unable to identify it and yet recognizing its familiarity. His nerves hummed with unease.
From another pouch, he whipped out a thumb-sized dazlite and flashed it around the perimeter. Good, no sign of a silent alarm system. Just to be certain, he took out his PIP and did a scan. Clear. The Trolleks must feel secure that unauthorized persons would be unable to gain access.
After shoving the PIP back into its holder, he flicked the light around the large room. Built into all four walls were rows of tiny numbered boxes. Strange. What did they keep in there?
Stalking over, he slid one open. A data crystal met his glance. Several more drawers revealed the same contents.
So this was some sort of filing system? Figuring he’d check out what they contained later, he pilfered a couple of crystals and stuffed them into a pocket.
Halfway back to the front door, he aimed his light at the ground by chance and noticed an uneven surface. Crouching, he traced a geometrical outline with his fingers. Rectangular in shape, it appeared to be about six feet long and located in the exact center of the room.
Something was there, but how to get it to reveal itself?
He straightened, casting his light along the walls, careful to skip past the shuttered windows. The beam hit a button by the doorframe. He’d assumed it was a light switch, but maybe not.
Just to be on the cautious side, he peeked out the front door, making sure no one was present before slapping his hand on the button. He shut the door and whirled as lights flooded the interior.
In the center of the room, a rectangle of packed dirt slid away, and a metal table ascended on hydraulic legs. The table was rimmed with grooves and had a blackish discoloration.
His gut sinking, Zohar pulled out his PIP again and thumbed the keys. The resultant reading confirmed his suspicion.
Chariots of the gods, this room was some sort of extermination chamber. The reading definitely indicated phase weapons fire set to dissolution. Bodies were being vaporized, and from his quick analysis, they were human.
A muffled cry made his head jerk up. It came from outside. A louder series of wails followed in a rising crescendo.
Jabbing the button to squash the lights and retract the table, he weighed his options. At this point, he didn’t think he would find the jamming device here, but he’d sure like to know what caused those horrifying sounds.
After making certain he’d left no evidence of his incursion, he eased the door open and slipped outside.
He hoped it wasn’t Nira issuing those screams. Rushing around a corner in the direction of the noise, he collided with someone speeding from the opposite direction.
“Nira!” He glimpsed her untidy clothes and frantic expression. “Thank the stars. What happened to you? Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not.” Her eyes went wide in a pale face. “I mean I’m fine physically even though he tried to…you know. I couldn’t help what happened. I-I had to stop him…” Her lower lip trembled. “Let’s talk about it later, okay? We have to get out of here.”
“Did you hear those screams? Something bad is going down in this village.”
“No kidding.” Another wail pierced the night. “What are they doing to these people?”
“Let us go see, and then we can leave.” Assuming he and Nira made it to the gateway, and assuming the portal worked in reverse.
Nor could they just walk into the park named after a fowl. They were out of phase with their reality and wouldn’t have any substance there. The only other possibility might be to wait for a power fluctuation, which could cause the displacement field to crash.
Zohar didn’t voice his concerns. Weaving a path toward the bungalow from which the cries emanated, he slowed to a cautious pace. Light streamed from within between cracks in the logs. As the windows on this structure were shuttered, that allowed their only opportunity to peer inside.
“The widest crack is too high for either of us to reach,” Zohar whispered. “I’ll have to lift you on my shoulders.”
“Are you sure I won’t be too heavy for you?”
“Huh. Try me.” He was glad to note the color returning to her cheeks along with her sardonic tone. “Up you go.” He held his clasped hands out for her.
Muttering several colorful expletives, she stepped onto his proferred base and boosted herself onto his shoulders. While he struggled to maintain his balance, she stretched toward the gap. He raised his hands to steady her, clamping onto her legs.
“Good God, there’s a lab inside. A girl is strapped to a table.” She spoke in a low, tremulous voice. “They have an IV attached to her, and a Trollek is injecting something. Two aides are present, making recordings.”
A cry of pain issued forth from inside, then it cut off.
“She’s convulsing. Oh no, Zohar. I think…I think…she’s gone limp.”
He’d heard enough. “Get down. We cannot do anything for her.”
The breeze picked up, tossing hair into his face. It smelled like rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance, confirming his impression. But that wasn’t what made his nape prickle. His feet picked up a vibration underfoot. A patrol headed their way.
He herded Nira back toward the village and the gateway at the other end, but they hadn’t gone far when the street lamps brightened, illuminating the night. A siren clanged, and sentries poured into the streets, cutting off their exit.
“Uh-oh, they must have found…” Her voice cracked.
He didn’t ask what she meant. No time.
“Get inside.” He tugged her into the storeroom where they’d started their exploration. “We have to wait until things quiet down.” Neglecting to share his fear that they might get caught before that moment arrived, he flattened himself against a wall.
She brushed a lock of hair off her face. It shone like fire in the moonlight from the window. Afraid they’d be discovered, he gestured for Nira to follow him into the adjacent room. His boots kicked up a swirl of sawdust on the way.
“What are all these mirrors doing in here?” she asked when he’d shone his dazlite around the four walls.
“Good question. I noticed them before.”
She spied a worktable. “Curious. Why would they be removing the glass from the frames?” Before he could venture a guess, she peered into a nearby upright mirror. “Ugh, I’m a mess.” She pressed a hand to her temple.
“What is it?”
“I have a headache,
but it’ll go away. What’s in there?”
“Where? This is as far as it goes.”
“No, it isn’t. Behind this crate is another door.”
“Let me see.” Hearing voices from outside grow nearer, he examined the outline on the wall. Pressing his hand against its edge, he gave a gratified exclamation when a latch clicked and a door swung open.
“Someone’s coming.” Nira pushed past him.
As soon as he joined her, the door slid shut from behind, enveloping them in darkness.
She shrieked, bumping into him.
“Remain calm.” His light reflected from dozens more mirrors stacked several deep against the walls. “There may be another exit.”
“Or not. I can’t even tell where we entered.”
“Right there.” But he found no telltale outline on the wall nor was one evident when he shifted several heavy frames. “Or was it on that side?”
Intent on finding their entry point, he lost sight of Nira and ended up in a twisting aisle lined with mirrors.
“Nira, where are you?” He panicked when he couldn’t find her.
“Over here.” Her voice sounded muffled.
His reflection bounced back at him from scores of mirrors as he searched for her. Where could she have gone? This place didn’t appear that large from the outside.
He rounded a corner and heaved a breath of relief when he spotted her slim figure.
She appeared engrossed in examining a gilt-framed mirror. Her mouth hung open as she reverently traced the edges of the ornate frame.
Then she touched the glass.
With a flash of light, the mirror sucked her in, and she vanished.
Chapter Twelve
Nira tumbled onto a spongy surface, at first aware of the sun gleaming overhead and a warm breeze kissing her skin. Night had turned into day, but that wasn’t the only change. Instead of the earthy smell of woods, she sniffed the sea: a fresh salty tang that cleared her brain and chased away her headache.
Waves crashed onto a shore and birds twittered overhead. Then those sounds receded as a loud thump shook the ground beside her. Zohar had plunged to the earth, knocking her in the hip.
“Hello, Alice. Welcome to Wonderland.” Leaning on an elbow, Nira scanned their surroundings.
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