Alien Outcast (Clans of Kalquor Book 12)

by Tracy St. John

  “The first virus?” Nako’s numbed lips could form words after all.

  “Your scientists never suspected? Bi’is is the reason the Kalquorians are dying out. They’ve been sitting back and watching you go extinct all this while, enjoying the spectacle of the ‘uncivilized animals’—that’s what they call you—fading from existence.”

  Silence reigned as Nako and Terig tried to absorb Piper’s assertions. The Dramok searched for a way to refute her.

  “There are those throughout the years who blamed the virus on Bi’is. However, all indications were that the virus was a natural occurrence. That it had mutated on the moon Togrynt in a creature called the lubury.”

  “Oh, the virus was naturally occurring, all right. But the Bi’isil scientists carefully shepherded it through a myriad of mutations until they had the right formula to introduce to your species. ‘A true piece of biological wizardry,’ to quote my former master.”

  “Why?” The word burst from Terig, as if it had exploded from his lungs. “Though we’re very different species, and Bi’is is easily insulted—”

  “Ha! They’ve incited wars over improper table settings at conferences,” Nako interrupted.

  “It still doesn’t answer why they feel provoked to genocide. How could they hate us so much that they’d spend centuries trying to wipe us out?” Unable to contain his agitation, Terig paced back and forth.

  Piper watched him sympathetically. “Kalquor was the first to successfully resist Bi’is control. Before the Galactic Council, your people were all who could stand against that race until the other planets began to form alliances. Bi’is couldn’t beat you and it pissed them off. They are an incredibly egotistical race, if you didn’t notice.”

  “We have. But Earth was always an option. The Bi’isils knew breeding with your kind could bring us from the brink.” Nako frowned at that improbable oversight.

  “We were far away and unknown to you. And self-destructive to the point Bi’is thought we’d finish ourselves off. As far as they were concerned, we were more of an occasional science project. A zoo exhibit. Not anything worth treating seriously.”

  “Until you left your planet.”

  “Not even then. We went to our moon, we sent probes out, but that was it for several decades. Bi’is got complacent where we were concerned, to the point where they rarely checked on our progress. By the time they noticed Earthers were making strides in manned space exploration beyond our own solar system, that we’d discovered the Dragon’s and Bermuda Triangle wormholes, we’d already gotten loose and wandered into systems belonging to members of the Galactic Council.” Her smirk returned, smug that her species had unwittingly outfoxed Bi’is.

  “And then we discovered we could breed a hybrid race that could continue Kalquor’s culture.” Terig stopped pacing, his self-satisfied smile matching hers.

  “Screwing up Bi’is’s grand plan to exact permanent revenge on Kalquor for daring to be as strong as, if not stronger, than them.”

  “Except now, they can use the Empire’s salvation—Earthers—to do exactly that.” Nako was out of arguments against what Piper had told them. He’d fought Bi’is before, had grown up with his fathers’ and trainers’ stories of the wars with their hated neighbor.

  The Empire was on the brink of being wiped out. But how could he return to Fleet Command, when they’d tossed the raiders and their proud history aside like old, embarrassing relics?

  His Dramok and Nobek fathers had served aboard raiders. Nako had never dreamed of any career but to captain one himself. He’d been unable to believe the fleet would actually abandon the swift fighters, despite the destroyer class being developed to replace them. Yet the empire had done so, leaving Nako and the best warriors irrelevant.

  Nonetheless, he was Kalquorian. The empire remained his home. He was part and parcel of Kalquor no matter where he went or how it betrayed him. Which left him with only one course of action.

  Fuck.

  “We have to stop them.” The admission came out in a tired voice. “How soon until that death ship gets to Laro?”

  “A week, give or take a day,” Piper said, perking up. She glowed with her victory in convincing him to listen. “That’s why Prince Yel’ek was on the station; to finalize all the plans and see it off.”

  “Shit. Getting within com range of the Imperial Fleet will take at least that long, what with having to dodge rebel destroyers and fighters. Bringing in the fleet will take longer, and they’ll have to fight with Maf’s rebels at Laro, if any remain alive by then.” Terig began pacing again.

  Nako noted Piper’s confusion. “The Basma has a jamming frequency disrupting all but localized communications for a large area around Laro Station. We’re within that range, able to only pick up news vids when Laro opens a channel to do so.”

  “Can you get outside of the range of the jamming?”

  “The distance and obstacles to getting out would take two days.”

  Her delight fell with an almost audible thud. “And who knows how many days for your fleet to get to the Bi’is transport? Surely not before it reaches Laro Station. Is there no warning Kalquor in time?”

  “Only if we seized control of a com beacon strong enough to bust through the communications blockage.” Terig met Nako’s troubled gaze. “The nearest is a little less than a day away.”

  He didn’t have to mention the location of the unmanned relay station, part of an array of com beacons.

  When Nako didn’t respond for several seconds, turning the issue over in his mind, Piper harangued him with growing agitation. “If it’s so close, what are we waiting for? Why aren’t you giving the order to go? Oh, you want me to hand over the records first. You don’t trust what I’ve told you.”

  Nako waved her accusations off. “Actually, I do. You’ve risked your life to come to Empire space and warn us.”

  “Then why aren’t you acting?”

  “Because I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to get to a com beacon that’s located practically in the middle of the Basma’s fleet,” he snapped. “Or do you have the answer to that too?”

  If he’d had more of a heart, it would have broken at Piper’s defeated expression. Nako regretted taking out his frustration on her, for putting that look on her face. It wasn’t her fault he found himself in an impossible situation, in which he may not be able to do anything but watch his entire species die.

  Chapter 5

  Ulof paused outside the closed door of the brig. Seething, he glared at the two trays he held. They shook in his grip.

  Fiery anger licked through his brain, coming out in his muttered complaint. “My food. Served to a Tragoom. Nako must be fucking kidding me.”

  He visualized walking in and smashing the trays in his clan leader’s handsome mug before disabling the containment field holding the Tragoom prisoner. “How about I let the fucker lick it off you after that, my dear Dramok? Maybe it’ll bite your head off in the process, make you its appetizer.”

  Fury ramped up, growing larger until his fangs unhinged. Ulof ran his tongue over the left broken tooth, chipped during a brawl in the distant past. If he didn’t calm down, he’d storm into the brig and start pounding on Nako without giving him the benefit of an explanation.

  Don’t see insult where there is none. Or at least, prove the insult before attacking. As always, it was hard to soothe his rage. Ulof reminded himself that Nako hadn’t treated him with anything less than dignity since the first year they’d served together. What self-respect Ulof had built once they’d been clanned would not be taken by his Dramok. Not without good reason.

  I can’t help but provide a reason. I’m an idiot. I don’t deserve my clan.

  Hurt swelled. A mistake. Getting upset only sharpened anger, made Ulof desperate to strike out at anyone. Including adored clanmates.

  Breathe, Ulof. He could hear Nako and Terig chorusing the words in his mind. He shut his eyes and counted off the seconds to fill his lungs. Breathe. Relax. Find
out the truth of the situation before losing your shit.

  The truth? The truth is I’ve been ordered to cook for and feed a Tragoom!

  Breathe.

  Ulof breathed, riveting his attention on the feeling of air drawing in and out. Little by little, his anger diffused. It didn’t leave him—he hadn’t been entirely free of irritation and resentment since early childhood—but it became manageable.

  When he was certain he wouldn’t commit carnage in the next few moments, Ulof triggered the automatic door into the brig. A single step in, and the delicious aromas of his excellent cooking were buried beneath the reek of Tragoom.

  “Son of a bitch! It smells like a sewer in here! You could have at least hosed that fucking piece of shit off—”

  “Ulof.” Nako didn’t yell, but he spoke with command. It stopped the Imdiko’s complaints, long enough for him to notice the woman.

  Further angry words, temporarily derailed by Nako’s warning, stopped in their tracks. Ulof gazed into blue eyes and forgot the mountain of crap that life had heaped on him.

  Oh. She’s—oh. Hair. Pretty. Tiny. Lips. Kiss lips. Breasts. Legs. Legs. Legs. Oh.

  Inside his head, the ocean roared. Nako could barely be heard over it. “Say hello to Matara Piper.”

  Ulof fought his way to the surface, where he could speak to the goddess before him. “Hello.”

  “Ulof is my Imdiko clanmate and the ship’s head cook.”

  Her pastel pink lips opened. “Hello, Imdiko Ulof. Thank you for bringing us a meal. It smells amazing.”

  The room tilted as he absorbed his name spoken in her drawling, twangy alto. “Of course. My pleasure.”

  Somehow he approached and offered her the trays. Only one was for her, but he couldn’t remember for the life of him what he was supposed to do with the other. No matter. She took them with a smile.

  Ulof’s heart pounded. Her heart-shaped face beamed up at him for a bare instant before turning aside. She carried the trays to a containment cell.

  The Tragoom hove into view, breaking the spell. Ulof became aware of his clanmates muttering in low tones behind him a second before Terig brushed past to open the containment field. Piper handed off a tray to the hideous captive, and Terig restored the transparent barrier.

  That thing is smaller than I remember Tragooms being. Is it not full grown? Ulof considered the awful creature. True, it was monumental compared to the Earther, and even Nako appeared undersized in comparison. But it wasn’t as hulking or wide as Ulof had expected.

  It stunk as bad as a normal-sized Tragoom. Ulof’s nose wrinkled. And it was beyond ugly next to her. But then, everything would be ugly put side by side with her.

  He looked between the two castaways as Terig and Nako resumed their quiet consultation with each other. Ulof had the stray thought that he should maybe listen in to what his clanmates were saying, that perhaps they were discussing the woman—he wanted to know all about her. Yet, his senses were drowning in her presence once more.

  Never seen one this close. Except for Mother and the grandmothers, never been near any woman. Ulof had known the futility of approaching females, not that it came up often when serving time in military prison or on a ship.

  Mother of All, she was gorgeous. Even wolfing down the food like a starving ronka, she was exquisite. And apparently, ravenous. She attacked her meal with the same violence as the Tragoom.

  Nako’s snicker woke Ulof from his contemplation. “So that’s what it takes to suck the mean out of you. A pretty face. I’ll have to get some work done.” The Dramok rubbed the side of his jaw where he sported a fine collection of scars.

  Ulof managed a brief laugh. “You’ll never be that pretty.”

  Terig grinned knowingly over Nako’s shoulder, and Ulof’s palm itched to slap him. So what if he was dazzled by the stunning Piper? It wasn’t justification to make fun.

  Any offense he might decide to take was interrupted by the Nobek’s com going off. Terig went into official mode without pause. “Weapons subcommander.”

  “Sir, you should come to the bridge. There’s a, uh, problem with the captured Bi’isil shuttle. It’s going to—”

  A loud noise burst over the frequency, ending whatever Girek was about to report. At the same moment, the floor beneath Ulof’s feet shifted slightly.

  Nako and Terig went into motion, running for the door. As he raced off, Terig shouted, “Ulof, keep an eye on them. I’ll send a guard in as soon as I—”

  The door shut behind him, cutting his trailing voice off.

  “You don’t think something bad has happened, do you?” Piper had jumped to her feet and gazed worriedly at Ulof.

  “Um, we are on a raider. That usually means the worst possible scenarios, especially since we broke from the fleet.”

  She gaped at him, and Ulof realized she’d probably would have preferred a comforting lie rather than the truth. His mother always had.

  Didn’t change a thing for her though, did it? As much as his mother had tried to fool herself, she ended up having to admit her youngest son was an idiot and a failure.

  Ulof sighed. He’d gotten to a point where increasing his mother’s disappointment had become a game to play, a sharp blade with which to dig at her snobbish attitude. However, Piper wasn’t her. Nicer still, she obviously appreciated his cooking.

  “It’s probably okay. The alert sirens aren’t blaring, so that’s a good sign,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

  Maybe it was, because she sat down on the little ledge outside the Tragoom’s cell once more. As far as that creature was concerned, it was intent on licking every speck of food off its tray.

  No amount of disinfectant was going to clean that dish enough for Ulof. He might as well toss it out. Better yet, he’d put Terig’s dinner on it. His clanmate owed big for smirking at Ulof’s reaction to Piper.

  Meanwhile, she was watching the Tragoom too. She glanced at her half-full platter, then up at Ulof.

  “This is delicious, but I’m—I’m done. Can you give the rest of this to Ob?”

  The Tragoom shook its heavy head, its ears swiveling around and flattening to the back of its stone-gray skull. It chuffed, and a tinny voice translated. “No. Eat. I have plenty.”

  For his part, Ulof scowled at Piper in disbelief. “You’re willing to go hungry for that thing?”

  Her eyes blazed blue fire. “He’s not a that. Or a thing. He’s my friend. Ob is why I’ve been able to bring information that could save your empire. He broke my collar so I couldn’t be punished. He guarded me when I recorded the proof of Bi’is’s plans. He helped fly the ship to your space to warn you, though he was in agony from his collar.”

  Ulof tried to reconcile her claims with what he knew from personal experience. “Tragooms are scavengers. Opportunists, at their best. At their worst, they’d attack their own misbegotten mothers if they believed it would gain them anything.”

  She glowered at him for an instant before relenting. “Okay, you’re mostly right. Ob’s father sold him off to the Bi’isils because he was a runt and supposedly useless. And he named him ‘shit’. His own father!”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it was the smell.” Ulof considered the Tragoom, which had turned to squat in the corner, seeming for all the world like a boulder with a tattered loincloth strapped to it.

  “He helped me. Without him, Kalquor would be doomed. Ask your captain if you don’t believe me. Ob is not typical of his kind.”

  It wasn’t her laundry list of Ob’s fine deeds or her earnest expression that kept Ulof from dismissing her claims. It was hearing that the Tragoom had been rejected and sold into slavery by his sire. It was hearing that the parent had called it useless.

  It didn’t fit into any convenient classification as far as its kind was concerned. He wasn’t what was expected—or wanted.

  Only half aware he spoke out loud, Ulof said, “He came to the right place. Just another misfit on a raider chock full of them.”

  “Wha
t do you mean?”

  He blinked and saw the too-pretty creature that kept fucking with his dumb brain. He waved at her tray. “Finish your food, Matara. When a guard shows up, I’ll prepare your friend another platter.”

  “Thank you, Ulof. Thank you so much.” Her surprised smile was a bolt of pure sunlight, frying his senses in its powerful rays. Her eyes brightened with grateful tears before Piper ducked and resumed plowing through her meal with renewed gusto.

  A fine tremor raced down Ulof’s spine. Hell, he’d feed Ob the Tragoom all the supplies in his kitchen, down to the pots and pans. For that matter, he might cook up half the crew for the smelly thing, just to have her look at him that way again.

  * * * *

  “What the fuck did you blow the fucking Bi’isil ship up for, you stupid fuck? Are you fucking crazy?”

  As Ulof would no doubt have drolly observed, Nako was spewing a lot of fucks, but the livid captain saw no humor in the situation. The weight of the blaster holstered on his hip was heavy, as if begging him to use it to erase the idiot in front of him, the fool who didn’t have the sense to look as if he understood what Nako thundered about.

  Wiping a palm across his forehead, clearing the spittle his captain had showered him with during his tirade, Sesin mumbled, “We stripped it, as ordered. Took off everything useful to us. I assumed we shouldn’t leave any trace of it—”

  “So you blasted the empty shell apart, causing an explosion that will show up on enemy sensors more clearly than a piece of floating space debris would? Do you want to bring the Basma’s fleet on top of us?”

  Realization dawned in Sesin’s murky gaze. “I guess that’s possible…I didn’t think…