by Cara Bristol
The Alpha plowed into a table, then whipped out his dagger.
Marlix drew his own blade and dropped to a crouch. They circled, eyeballing each other. Their skirmish would end now. One would survive as the victor; the other would be left for dead. But Marlix wished neither to kill Commander Dak nor die himself. “You take our disagreements too far,” he said, preferring to settle their dispute in negotiation rather than a dola.
“Only a warrior without honor would use a female—let alone one of another race—to strike at another Alpha.”
Marlix blinked. Dak’s insult scored a hit, although probably not in the way he had intended. Tara was no tool of expedience. “That is what you think?”
“What else could be your motive? You have denounced the Terran ways as perversions, sought to rescind the treaty. If you have injured the female, I will—“
“I would never hurt her.” Marlix reeled, wounded by the accusation. Did Dak think he was a monster like Qalin?
Dak lunged, and Marlix struck with his own knife. Daggers clashed like swords. Metal sparked and locked. Marlix stared into Dak’s furious eyes. “Do not force me to kill you,” Marlix bit out. “I mean no harm to the female. But I will not release her.”
“Monto! What is she to you?”
Clouds drifted across an azure sky, momentarily blocking the light beaming through the window and casting the room into shadow and chill.
“She is the day to my night.” The words tumbled out before he realized he’d thought them. Shame flooded him. Perhaps he should beg Dak to kill him. Kneel and present his neck. No Alpha would humiliate himself with such a slavish outpouring of emotion. And in front of another Commander.
Dak froze. “You have regard for this Terran?” He stepped back and lowered his weapon, no doubt deeming him unworthy to battle. Blood from Marlix’s brow trickled into his eye and stung. He nodded. It would be pointless to deny what he’d just admitted.
“And the female? Has she regard for you?”
Tara had achieved release with him, but one did not have to care for another to achieve physical satisfaction. He had sensed an amity during their—what had she called it, a date—but he could not determine if she played him to secure freedom or if she had feelings for him. “I am not sure.”
“If she has regard for you and you let her go, she will stay,” Dak said.
The door opened, and a beta clerk poked his head inside. His eyes widened before he shuttered his gaze and snapped a salute. “Begging your pardons, Commanders, but I have been dispatched by Alpha Qalin to inform you the High Council convenes.”
“We shall be there shortly,” Marlix said.
The beta saluted again and departed. The door swung shut.
Marlix eyed Commander Dak. His uniform shirt was ripped and bloodied. His lip was swollen from Marlix’s punch, and he had multiple facial bruises. He suspected he fared no better. But for them to appear before the assembly of Alphas in a state of dishevelment was not unheard of. Alphas often hammered out differences in advance of Council sessions. Marlix sighed. “Shall we go?”
Dak gestured to the door. “After you, Commander.”
When they entered the High Council chamber, conversation muted to whispers. He and Dak claimed their seats on one side of the large table. At its head, Commander Qalin of Province One scrutinized them with laser-sharp interest. “I trust you resolved your disagreement?”
Marlix exchanged a glance with Dak. His opponent’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Well enough,” Marlix answered. “We shall live to fight another day.”
“Excellent.” Qalin continued to study them, but his gaze lingered on Dak longest. “I am sure I speak for the High Council when I say we would rue the loss of a worthy warrior.” He certainly wasn’t speaking for himself. Of all the Alphas, Qalin thirsted for power the most. He would not hesitate to depose another Alpha, friend or foe. And though he cloaked his enmity under a veneer of civility, he’d taken a personal and strong dislike to Dak. But then Dak had strained the patience and goodwill of both enemies and allies alike after he’d eliminated the Breeder Containment Facility, failed to check the growth of the Enclave, and opened trade with Terra. Besides objecting to the Bazaar on philosophical and political grounds, they resented Dak’s capitalism acumen that allowed him to amass wealth greater than their own. Though the ways of the Terrans appalled the good citizens of Parseon, they fascinated them too, and they regarded their wares highly. The Bazaar had been a resounding success.
Of course, of allies, Dak had only one, Commander Ilian of Province Two.
Marlix had been his most vocal dissenter and always sided with Qalin, except for once, when he’d feared the precedent that would be set by checking Dak’s power.
If Dak had been vengeful or power hungry, he would reveal to the High Council Marlix’s liaison with Tara. His disgrace would be swift and deep. The only piece of information Dak lacked to complete Marlix’s humiliation was that he’d been living at the Enclave.
Marlix stole a glance at his adversary. He’d seemed more concerned about the Terrans’ reaction than the High Council’s. But short of killing Dak—Marlix could do nothing to command his silence. He gritted his teeth, forced to acknowledge Dak held the upper hand.
Qalin struck the gong, and Marlix turned his attention to the proceedings.
If Qalin had one positive quality, he led the High Council with efficiency. He maintained brisk order over the flow of business and did not permit discussions to get sidetracked. Each Commander had the opportunity to report, but Qalin limited posturing.
As the meeting wore on, however, Marlix’s impatience grew. Qalin presented some refinements to the strengthening of Protocol, and Ilian reported on the expansion of the interprovincial tram system, both of which could have been issued over the PCD. Artom’s update on the Breeder Transfer Program generated some tension due to the fact that Commander Dak had refused to relinquish a ration of breeders from his province to replace those Tarbek had sold.
But even that report could have been delivered by PCD.
So why had Qalin convened the High Council? Marlix glanced at the gong and stifled a sigh. Would this meeting never end? He disliked leaving Tara alone at the Enclave. Urazi protected her, so he was not worried about her safety or that she might escape, but his stomach twisted in the oddest way the longer their separation progressed.
“If she has regard for you and you let her go, she will stay.” But if she didn’t, he would lose her. His experience with females in the past provided little guidance on what to do. In past liaisons, he’d only sought a selfish release with them. He did not need or want their devotion, only their submission, which they gave without question. With Tara, he desired the opposite. To think she would submit out of blind obedience or fear evoked no satisfaction, only self-loathing.
Marlix glanced at Commander Dak. He had granted his breeder tremendous leeway. He’d even severed his anointed union with his beta in support of her. That, and his gravitation toward the Terrans had made him a pariah with all but Ilian, and the votes he cast were nullified by the majority. Only his great wealth from his telenium mines and Bazaar tariffs allowed him to maintain his power.
If Marlix’s interaction with Tara became public, he too would become an outcast. Worse. Unlike Tara, Omra, at least, was Parseon and maintained some acceptability. Marlix would be viewed as a degenerate for his intimacy with a Terran. And Dak had employed no pretense, but Marlix’s hypocrisy would be noted and reviled.
Qalin straightened in his chair and inclined his head toward an open space at the foot of the long conference table. “Before we close, Commanders, direct your attention to the Video Particle Generation Viewing Area.”
Three-dimensional images flashed of males and females behaving in a familiar manner, of Terrans and Parseons in obvious social congregation, of commerce at the Terran Bazaar. He wondered at Qalin’s motivation for the display of information already known until aerial drone images of the Enclave appeared. His
lungs ceased expanding and contracting when he spotted the rows of huts, picked out his and Tara’s personal hideaway. Taken from a distance, the ADIs were grainy and unfocused, but he thought he recognized Anika and Jergan walking hand in hand along one of the narrow lanes.
Qalin had been spying on the Enclave.
Marlix schooled his features to hide his dismay and stole a glance at Dak’s face. Blue eyes frosted over. Qalin’s show continued with the images of civil unrest erupting in all the provinces: enraged citizens throwing stones and burning huts, of alphas forced to watch as their breeders were violently used before being beaten themselves, of bodies crumpled on cobbled streets and along country lanes.
The last image faded away. A heavy portent blanketed the chamber. “We cannot allow this to continue.” Qalin broke the silence. “Honor killings have increased five hundred percent. To defend Protocol is every citizen’s right and duty, yet the frequency is wreaking havoc. I fear some of the executed were innocent of the perversions of which they’d been accused. But splinter groups from the Enclave are growing and spreading. Parseon is becoming polarized by those who engage in and support depravity and those of honor who oppose it.
“If we do not act, our vigilant loyal citizens will—but without proper discernment. The guilty should be punished, but the death of the innocent serves no one. Due to the late Commander Tarbek’s actions, we already are suffering a serious lack of females required to produce male offspring. While vigilantism normally maintains social order, its progression is undermining the homogeneity it seeks to protect. Should the killings continue, breeders will become an endangered gender. Until nature finds another method for us to propagate our race, we must maintain a sufficient quantity of breeders. Protocol has never been more important than it is today.”
“You suggest a suppression of vigilantism?” Ilian asked.
“We cannot fault the vigilantes for reacting to the vitiation of our ways, for attempting to restore honor.” He shook his head. “No, we must eliminate the cause. Without further delay, we must implement a cleansing of the Enclave.”
Monto! Marlix’s blood froze.
Dak pushed to his feet. “I will not allow it.”
“With all due respect…Commander, the Enclave is no longer your purview.” Malicious satisfaction glinted in Qalin’s eyes as he picked up the gong striker. “All we require,” he addressed the Alphas, “is a majority vote to settle this matter once and for all. I have a guard force on standby.”
Marlix gripped his PCD. Could he get Tara, Urazi, and Anika out fast enough?
Dak grabbed his personal communication device. “I will not allow the destruction of the Enclave and its people, regardless of how the ballots are cast. My troops will defend the Enclave.”
“So be it,” Qalin intoned, sweeping his gaze over the assembly, sizing up his supporters and opponents. From his expression, Marlix surmised he considered him part of the former. He always had been. “We shall vote, and then we shall fight,” Qalin announced, his manner matter-of-fact. “I will poll each one in order of your province. As Commander of Province One, I vote—”
“Stop. Proceed no further.” Marlix jumped to his feet. “I believe you anticipate my favorable vote, Commander Qalin, as I have concurred with the majority Council in the past. However, I cannot support this invasion. Where is the honor in the slaughter of unarmed, unsuspecting citizens? Alphas. Betas. Offspring. Breeders. If we are concerned about future population growth, then killing more females will not serve our purpose.”
Marlix could not have decided who appeared more stunned by his outburst, Qalin or Dak.
Qalin snapped to his full height and thrust out his chest. “I had considered your vote to allow Commander Dak to keep his Alpha status an anomaly, but it appears you have switched alliances.”
Marlix realized he had. Sometime between entering Tara’s textile shop and this moment, his attitudes had shifted. The people of the Enclave were not enemies. They had granted him, Urazi, and Tara refuge, shielded them, fed them, and housed them. He’d observed the easy amity with which males and females interacted. What harm did it cause?
How could he condemn what he had practiced?
“I have,” Marlix responded.
Qalin eyed Artom and Ilian. Artom scowled as if he’d eaten something spoiled, but Ilian shoved back from the table and rounded it to join Dak and Marlix.
Artom stepped to Qalin’s side. The two sides assessed each other, the schism far wider than the expansive table that separated them. A new alliance of three had formed, and in an instant, politics had veered in a wholly different direction.
Dak glanced at Marlix and Ilian, then regarded Qalin with a challenge in his eyes. “If you are confident your forces can win, then proceed with the invasion. But if you fail, your province will be the next one cleansed.”
Malevolence turned Qalin’s harsh features ugly. For a moment, he said nothing, then connected to his PCD. “Mission abort,” he said. He flicked a vengeful gaze at Marlix, then struck the gong. With Artom at his heels, he swept out of the chamber.
“Commander.” Marlix faced Dak and clapped his right shoulder with his left hand, initiating the Bridge of Amity. Dak hesitated and scanned Marlix’s face, then placed his right hand—his weapon hand—on Marlix’s left shoulder. They broke apart, and then Marlix repeated the ritual with Ilian, who then performed it with Dak.
“We live to fight another day,” Dak said.
“But may it not be tomorrow,” Ilian said grimly.
“Indeed.” Marlix nodded
“I do not think Qalin will strike in the near future,” Dak said in a sure voice, though his expression appeared troubled. “He does not have the numbers to combat our allied forces. But he will pillage his own province to build his force. We should prepare for eventual war.”
Marlix tightened his lips. “There will be no one or nothing Qalin will not sacrifice to win.”
“We would do well to increase the number of operatives we have assigned to Qalin,” Ilian suggested.
“Good idea,” Dak agreed. “Early warning of his intentions will enable us to preempt attack. I do not think it will be necessary to declare martial law in the Enclave, but I will order standby troops.”
The Alphas hammered out a strategy to deal with Qalin and Artom, contacted their respective subcommanders to execute it, and scheduled future planning sessions. Ilian departed first, leaving Dak and Marlix alone.
“I shall allow you to work out your situation with the female,” Dak said. “As I had no wish to unravel diplomatic and trade efforts, I convinced the Terran envoy to allow me to utilize informal negotiations to secure her release. The Terrans will not interfere—at least not at this juncture.”
With a nod, Marlix acknowledged the concession and then inhaled, pondering his next move.
Though he considered Urazi his friend, even his beta could not empathize with his position. But Dak had traveled a similar path with Omra. Marlix did not know the entire story, but he had been to Dak’s abode, had witnessed their interactions firsthand. Marlix released his breath. “What if I grant Tara her freedom, and she does not come back?”
“You must take the risk.”
Dak did not provide the comfort Marlix had sought, but he trusted his counsel and the Alpha himself. Dak had proven himself honorable.
Risk. Yes, there was great hazard in more ways than one. If Tara stayed with him, claiming her as his breeder would make her dependent on him for care and protection. And if something happened to him… Did he dare ask Dak for the greatest of all favors? Marlix cleared his throat.
Dak arched his eyebrows.
“Qalin views my defection as betrayal.” There had never been any friendship to be lost between Dak and Qalin, but the latter had considered Marlix an ally.
“Yes,” Dak agreed.
“I will become his personal target.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Should Qalin succeed in killing me, would you ensure that
Tara is safe and provided for?”
Dak nodded. “Consider it done.”
Chapter Thirteen
After exiting the tram, Marlix retrieved his conveyance to continue the trek to the Enclave. En route, he detoured to the river to wash the blood off his face and change into his hooded uniform. He stared at the large boulder in the stream, remembering how he’d taken Tara, and then at the golden sand, where he’d used her a second time. Their cries of ecstasy had sent roosting fowl into flight. Surely the pleasure she found with him would convince her to remain?
Until abducting her, he had had no experience with females raised outside of Protocol. Laws and customs facilitated smooth gender interactions. Males took. Females accepted. If not for Tara, he would not have arrived at a place where he opposed Qalin and Artom to shield the Enclave. He would have voted with them to destroy it. Without Tara, he would not have marshalled the courage to admit he was one of the reviled deviants. His exploration had led him through a door that had locked behind him. He had no choice but to move forward.
Marlix reboarded the conveyance. He, Urazi, and Tara could not remain at the Enclave indefinitely. He’d never intended for them to remain as long as they had, and now that trouble brewed, leaving acquired a new urgency. But until Qalin could build up his forces, he would not attack. Only a fool declared a war he was preordained to lose. Once Qalin strengthened his army, he would become a formidable enemy. The battles would be vicious and bloody. Many would die, and much infrastructure would be destroyed.
Nothing fueled ruthlessness like a quest for vengeance. Though Qalin considered the Enclave an abomination, his proposed invasion had been a means to strike at Dak rather than an end goal in and of itself. Now that Marlix, through his perceived betrayal, had supplanted Dak as Qalin’s primary enemy, Qalin would shift his focus to Marlix’s holdings and territory. Ironically, the Enclave was probably the safest haven of all—at least at the present time.