The world faded out, and the cold sensation spread. Maia took a deep breath and blinked, but her eyes did not open again after the lids shut. It seemed too much of a struggle.
***
"Why are her eyes closed?" Taylor asked, pointing at the ikthian beyond the window.
"They put her under for the rest of the procedure," Roberts said. "They don’t want her to move and mess up the flesh-knitter."
Taylor watched one of the surgeons run the head of what looked like a pen over the incision. The tip glowed brightly and left an infused seam of skin in its path. "Why didn’t they drug her for the first part?" It had been unsettling to watch the ikthian stare helplessly up at her during the procedure. The surgeons could have at least tried to explain what they were doing better. The civilian was probably terrified.
Roberts shrugged. "It’s hard to tell how much will put her under without damaging her in some way. We only have naledai advice on their anatomy. We’re lucky enough that they adapted a translator upgrade."
Taylor tried to imagine what it would be like to have a conversation with the ikthian. Would she have anything interesting to say? Would she talk down to Taylor? Call her a devolved pig? "What do they have to say, usually?" Taylor knew that there had not been an ikthian prisoner on base for several months, but surely there had been some communication with their previous captives.
"Water."
She glanced over at Roberts. "What?"
"They always ask for water." He folded his hands behind his back and stood a little straighter. "They were once aquatic, Morgan, remember?"
Taylor looked back at the silver-skinned woman. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she no longer twitched when the surgeons prodded her. They had to be done soon. "Will she ask for water?"
"Most likely. They can never drink enough of it." Roberts gestured with one hand, rubbing a forefinger and thumb together. "It’s the lack of humidity." The concept made sense, but it also made Taylor a little uneasy. "It’s an opportunity for the prisoner to show a willingness to cooperate. They have needs we will provide for, but they need to work with us in exchange."
Although her superior’s explanation made sense, Taylor still felt some sympathy for the prisoner. She was not sure why, especially since her entire squad had been butchered by the rest of her kind. Her brow furrowed as she remembered what had happened on Amaren, and she turned away from the window. The ikthian seekers had demonstrated their understanding of mercy when they had killed Jackson. “She had better have something,” Taylor said, a little more harshly than she had intended. "Please tell me she’s useful, at least."
"Your squad didn’t die for nothing, Lieutenant, even if capturing an ikthian wasn’t part of the plan," Roberts said. "We’re going to interrogate her tomorrow."
"I want to know what she was doing on Amaren, and why those seekers were after her," Taylor insisted. "I’ve never seen ikthians hunt and kill their own kind before." Unable to resist the temptation any longer, she glanced back through the window, staring at the limp, unconscious form of the ikthian lying on the operating table. The doctors appeared to be finished with her, but her limbs were still restrained.
Roberts briefly clapped a hand on her shoulder, breaking out of his role as her commanding officer for a moment. "Don’t worry, Taylor. We’ll find out what she knows, and why she was running away."
Taylor lowered her gaze to the floor, staring at the toes of her boots so that she would not have to look through the window at the ikthian any longer. She doubted that any information the alien could give them was worth the cost.
Chapter Five
"State your name."
Although the words were in an alien language, they sounded clear in Maia's head. Gingerly, she touched the place along her crest where they had implanted her translator. It worked just like it had before, but with an addition. Apparently, the humans had modified it with their own language parameters. It was too soon to say whether that boded well for her or not.
"State your name," the amplified voice said again. They had not sent an interrogator in to question her, relying on a speaker system instead, so Maia had no one to look at as she answered.
"Maia."
"Your House Name," the voice prompted.
Maia swallowed. Her throat and skin felt sore from the room’s dry air, and her stomach was clenched tight with fear. For one frantic second, she considered lying. It was far too dangerous for her to return to the Dominion, but if these humans did not find her important enough to preserve, they might throw her away to rot in a cell, or worse, kill her. Telling the truth would be the best move. As long as she stayed alive, there was a slight possibility for escape.
"Kalanis."
There was a long pause as whoever watched her considered the answer. Obviously, it was not what they had been expecting. Maia’s family name was well-known and well-respected, even among aliens, and she hoped that it would be enough to protect her this time.
Being captured by humans was not the worst thing that could have happened to her. Even though they were at war with her species, the humans had not harmed her so far. The soldier who had stolen her from the battlefield had inadvertently saved her life. The ikthian seekers pursuing her were under strict orders to bring her in alive, but her usefulness would end once the Dominion had access to her research.
As Maia recalled the events of her capture, she was surprised at how clearly she was able to picture her savior's face. The strong jaw, straight nose, and severe eyes had seemed terrifying at first. Maia could still remember the first moment her rescuer had taken off her protective helmet and tucked it under one muscular arm, her pistol still clutched in her other hand. And the way the human had watched her during her procedure. She thought she had seen pity in those eyes.
"Your name is Maia Kalanis? Irana Kalanis's daughter?" the voice asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"Yes," Maia said. A few weeks ago, her biggest worries had been achieving tenure and soliciting funds for her genetic research. Now, she was the most wanted ikthian in the entire Dominion. Even the fact that she was Irana’s daughter would not be enough to spare her life now that word of her latest research had gotten out. She had not expected her reports to the University to blow up in her face so spectacularly.
Maia stared down at her cuffed hands. The humans had kept the collar around her throat as well. She was not cut off from her natural defenses, but any attempt to poison someone would result in pain, a lot of it. She was no warrior, but her mother had forced her to participate in all the necessary defense training. Unfortunately, everything she had learned required the use of her pheromones and toxins. She had no chance of escaping without them, and even if she did, where would she go? Not back to the Dominion. They would just send the seekers after her again.
"Have you sent any transmissions since your capture?" the voice asked.
Even though there was no physical interrogator, Maia shook her head. There were cameras in the room somewhere. She wanted the humans to believe her. "No."
"Have you received any transmissions since your capture?"
"No."
"Is the Dominion aware of your current location?"
"No."
Maia wondered if the room was monitored somehow aside from audio and video feed. Perhaps they were checking her heart rate or stress hormone levels to try and determine if she was lying. Her heart was beating so fast that it would not matter, and her mind was still cloudy with fear and the last of the sedatives. She had no idea what she was going to do next.
"What was your purpose on Amaren?"
"Research." She was pleased when her voice only shook a little. "I am a scientist." Amaren was a small, backwater world sitting right in the middle of contested space, and aside from its mineral deposits, the only useful resources there now were the genetic samples she had been trying to collect from fossilized remains.
"State your area of specialization."
“Genetics,” she answered quickly. “I study th
e genetic variations and matches inherent in several sentient species." Maia scolded herself for rattling off so much information. The humans did not care. What did she think this was, a review board?
"Are you a member of the Dominion's military?"
"No."
"Did your research contribute in any way to the Dominion's military intelligence?"
"No," Maia answered, hesitating only briefly. "I am a civilian." Hopefully, that would be enough to earn her at least a little mercy from her captors. Her mother had pressed her to change her specialization to something more 'useful' several times. With her name and connections, Maia had been offered several jobs, but she had always refused. It was the only form of rebellion she had ever taken.
The voice did not answer right away, and Maia began to calm down. So far, her answers had not seemed to upset the humans, although it was impossible to read any emotion in the mechanical voice coming through the speakers.
Perhaps because her mind was swirling with so many emotions, her thoughts returned to the human that had taken her captive. She had heard the woman's name only once when her superior greeted her as they departed the ship. Taylor. It was a silly thing to remember. So many other things had been going on at the time, but for some reason, the human—Taylor—stuck out in her mind. Maia wondered if she would ever see her again. She had remained silent but observant during the installation of her translator, and Maia could still remember the intensity of her gaze.
"You will stand up and proceed to the door now," the voice said when it returned, startling Maia even though she had been waiting for it. She glanced nervously around the dark, barren room as she climbed out of the chair and walked toward the door, not wanting to disobey any orders yet. She tried to let her hands fall down to her sides before remembering that they were still cuffed together. Eventually, she just held them in front of her as she waited.
The door opened a few moments later, and four armored guards carrying assault rifles stepped into the interrogation room. None of them were Taylor. None of them had her same inquisitive stare. Two lowered their weapons and took her by the arms, escorting her out as the others kept their rifles trained on her. Maia had no idea what she had done to earn such caution.
The guards led her down a narrow, dimly lit hallway, completely silent except for the sound of their boots tracking on the concrete floor. Maia did not try and examine her surroundings, afraid that the guards would notice and object, but she did memorize the turns they were taking. Right, left, then left again. Finally, they arrived at another solid metal door much like the first. One of the guards removed his glove and pressed his hand against the scanner. The door slid open with a whoosh.
This new room was slightly better, but not by much. It was still uncomfortably dry, and very small, although the darkness did not bother her. It had a chair, a cot, and what looked like a toilet and a sink, but no other fixtures. The guards unlocked her cuffs, but kept her collar in place before locking her in the new cell. Maia was relieved when they left. She preferred being alone anyway, and if her guess was right, the humans would try to interrogate her again soon. So far, aside from informing them of her name and giving them a brief overview of her job, she had not given them any useful information.
Unsure what else to do, Maia walked over to the sink against the far wall. She tested the taps, pleased when she discovered that they worked. Grateful to have a clean source of water, Maia cupped her hands under the tap, taking several long sips before splashing the rest over her face. Some of her discomfort receded. There was no mirror above the sink, but Maia knew that if there had been, she would have appeared exhausted.
Once she finished her attempt at washing and soothing her skin, Maia wandered back to the small cot that had been shoved in the opposite corner. She lowered herself down, sitting on the edge and crossing her legs. It was far from comfortable, but better than nothing. She stretched out along its length until her feet touched the wall and stared up at the blank, empty ceiling. The only thing she could do now was wait.
Chapter Six
Taylor jerked forward, her heart battering frantically against her ribs as she tried to outrun the seekers. Something darted out from a dip in the canyon wall, blocking her way. They collided, and Taylor drew in a sharp breath as she realized it was the ikthian civilian. She stared at Taylor, blue eyes wide with fright, but she was not looking at her. Instead, the alien seemed to be looking through her. Through her at Jackson, who was trapped against a seeker's chest.
In less than a second, Taylor had her gun pressed against her captive's skull. "Let him go," she yelled. She pressed the gun harder against the civilian’s temple. The seekers stared back at her, guns leveled. "Let him go, or I’ll kill her."
The ikthians laughed. One caught her gaze and stared intently at her. Taylor panicked and tried to look away, but an invisible force gripped her head, holding her eyes in place. The seeker sneered. "You won’t shoot her. You can’t. You’re too soft. You won’t even trade a life for a life."
"Don’t listen to them, Lieutenant," Jackson called out to her. "You can’t listen to them." As he spoke, his body started to twitch, and his skin melted from his face, leaving only blackened bone behind.
She still could not pull the trigger.
"You’re weak, human," the ikthian spat. They laughed as she continued to stand with the civilian trapped against her chest, frozen in place.
Taylor shot up in bed, panting raggedly and covered in sweat. Her heart hammered and she brushed a sweaty lock of hair away from her damp forehead. She glanced at the clock, trying to catch her breath as her pulse returned to normal. Only one minute remained until her alarm went off. With a sigh, Taylor reached out and turned off the alarm. She staggered out of bed, slouching over to the washroom and running herself a cold shower. Even though her bathroom was small, it was also private. She was relieved to have a shower all to herself, especially now. She needed a few minutes to herself after witnessing Jackson’s death a second time, even if it had only been a dream.
"That damn prisoner had better be worth it," Taylor muttered as she began scrubbing her skin with a cloth, wiping it free of sweat. But even as she said it, she knew that Jackson’s death had been her fault. She was the officer in charge. It had been her drop. Those soldiers had been her responsibility. She had failed them.
After vigorously washing her hair and scrubbing her skin, Taylor turned off the water and began to towel herself dry. She returned to the bedroom, kicking aside piles of used clothes in search of something to wear. Roberts was expecting her in his office at 08:00, and from the tone he had taken with her yesterday, it was important. There would probably be at least a few of the upper brass in attendance. Taylor’s stomach lurched at the thought of explaining herself to them. She hoped they would be too interested in the prisoner she had brought home to interrogate her about the failed mission and her dead squadmates.
Once she had pulled a fresh pair of fatigues over her still-wet skin and cleaned most of her dirty laundry off the floor, Taylor made her bunk and headed out the door. Her meeting with Roberts started in fifteen minutes, and she wanted to get there early.
Fortunately, the walk over to the main building only took her ten. She ran into Roberts on her way to his office and gave him a crisp salute, straightening her spine. "Commander Roberts, Sir!"
"At ease, soldier," Roberts said, giving her a smile. "This debriefing is going to be fairly informal. The brass mostly want to congratulate you. What you did out there impressed them."
"What I did?" Taylor had considered her survival and capture of an ikthian dumb luck. Apparently, the story sounded better than that to the higher-ups, even if the rest of her squad had been butchered along the way. A darker part of her thought she should have died with Jackson and the others. Their deaths were certainly not worth a commendation.
"You're the sole survivor of an ikthian instigated act of aggression. Your quick thinking not only got you out alive with valuable Intel, but with a wealt
h of untapped knowledge from your ikthian prisoner."
"Oh, did the interrogation turn up something?" Taylor asked as she and Roberts resumed the short walk to his office.
"Not much, but it has potential to be something big." They stopped right outside of the office door. "Things are changing for you, Taylor. Not all of it is going to be easy, but I think you've handed us a piece that might actually help us win the war."
Taylor's swallowed. "Really, Sir?" She did not dare to hope.
"I'll let the brass tell you." The door to the office slid open, and they both walked inside. Taylor instinctively saluted when she noticed who was waiting for them. She had been expecting someone from the upper brass to show up, but not three out of the Coalition's five generals. Joseph Hunt stood in the center of the group. He was an older man with several creases in his forehead. It gave his stare a certain amount of severity. He nodded to them in acknowledgement, and they lowered their hands. Once at ease, Taylor's eyes immediately darted to a familiar pale figure.
They had brought the ikthian with them. She stood in the far corner, looking out a window that only provided a view of the building across from them. She still wore the torn, stained clothes that she had been found in, and Taylor scanned the pale skin for any markings or irregularities. It did not look like they had given her any rough treatment.
"Lieutenant Morgan," Hunt said. She glanced back to the general and fought down a blush. Had they noticed her staring? "We would like to extend our congratulations on your successful capture of Maia Kalanis."
Taylor's eyes widened, and she could not help looking back at the ikthian again. She had captured a Kalanis? The ikthian looked over at her with the same blank expression from yesterday, and she swallowed. What little Intel the military had gathered showed that the Kalanis family was made up of powerful ikthians, equivalent to something like a dynasty or a corporation by human standards.
Dark Horizons Page 3