Alien Revolt

by Tracy St. John

  Something is wrong. Is my Dramok in danger?

  Subcommander Nived was already at the threshold of the in-ship transport. Even with the ban on leaving the vessel in play, Mostar’s second was ready for Kila’s order to go after the admiral. He waited, tension singing through his frame.

  For Kila’s part, he made himself sound far more composed than he felt. “Calm down, Dramok Sitrel. Why would Piras want to change the plan at this late date?”

  “How the hell should I know? Piras wasn’t making any sense to me when he commed, except he was being escorted at blaster point to his shuttle, that he wanted Copeland and his worthless ships out of the picture. He sounded like he was ready to murder someone.”

  Kila’s fists clenched. Someone had triggered Piras’s temper, a force of pure brutal nature when riled. The fact he had been venting to Sitrel and not fighting for his life gave the Nobek some hope the situation wasn’t out of control. Yet.

  “All right, Dramok Sitrel. I’ll see if I can get hold of Admiral Piras and find out what’s going on. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you kidding me? Have you never seen that man get angry?”

  Despite the tension, a flash of amusement made Kila smile. Piras had threatened to kill him no fewer than three times during their tumultuous courtship. He’d meant it too. “Yes, Dramok. I most certainly have witnessed the admiral in full temper. I’ll deal with it and advise you of the results. Kila out.”

  As soon as Veko signaled the connection to Sitrel was broken, Kila said, “See if you can raise Admiral Piras.”

  While the com officer did so, the captain tried to com Piras himself on their private link. After several seconds, Veko reported, “No response, sir.”

  “Nor for me.”

  Mostar frowned. “He may not be in a position to answer if something has gone wrong.”

  Nived was still by the door, poised to rush out. “Shall I go to the battlecruiser and try to track him down?”

  Kila considered. He wanted to fly over to the Sword of Truth himself and find out what the hell was going on. Piras not answering his com meant one of two things: he was unable to, for reasons that could be ill or simply inconvenient. Or he was so busy killing everyone in sight because Copeland had pissed him off, in which case he couldn’t take the time to answer and ease Kila’s worried mind.

  Then again, maybe something had happened to Hope and Piras was trying to help her. The idea jolted Kila to his boots because it made the most sense. He knew Hope was the one person who he himself would risk the mission for. He was almost certain that even Piras, bound by duty as he was, would dare their assignment’s failure for her.

  Piras and Hope. Kila’s being screamed to run to their aid. But if something had happened, if Copeland had discovered their treachery, the Nobek would never reach them in time. Haven and Rokan would fall for sure, adding thousands of deaths to the score.

  “Fuck me, but the fun never ends,” Kila groaned. He signaled Nived to return to his station. “You know the admiral’s orders. We have a mission to accomplish, one which we have to assume is now in jeopardy. Ship-wide general alert, Weapons Commander. Crew to battle stations. Tell all posts to make ready to take the Basma and Holy Leader’s fleet out.”

  The signal went off. Kila glared at the vid monitor showing the Sword of Truth, his jaw clenched. If shit was going down, Piras was on his own, along with Hope and her family.

  * * * *

  Hope wanted to wake up. This had to be a nightmare. She ran as hard and as fast as she could, but it seemed she barely moved. Each step forward took minutes instead of a fraction of a second. Her sister was about to be raped, her father was going to be executed, but she couldn’t get to them. Piras had been forced off the ship, so there was no help there.

  Wake up! Wake up!

  Yet the real nightmare was knowing she was awake, she was on her own, and she couldn’t move any faster than the horrendously slow-motion progress which she made. Hope had found Hell. It was an eternity of running to stop the unthinkable from happening and knowing all the while she would be too late.

  Something tall and black streaked past her, moving so fast that it had gone yards beyond her before it could stop. When it did halt, the blur became Piras. He stared at her. “Hope!”

  Her heart leapt and she shrieked. “You can see me! You’re phased! You’re going back for them?”

  “Your sister and father? They’re in trouble.”

  “I know! I was listening in on the monitor. They didn’t show up where we were supposed to meet if things went wrong.”

  Hope was almost to Piras and could see the anger and desperation making his jaw clench. “Charity can’t phase. Someone saw her device and took it from her. Come on, we have to stop Copeland from hurting her.”

  Charity’s device had been taken? Then her sister was in serious shit. Yet with Piras there, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him, Hope felt as if a crushing weight had been lifted from her.

  He’d not left her and her family, even though such an action must put the mission in jeopardy. Piras was there, chancing all for the Naths. In that moment, Hope loved him with her entire being.

  She loved him.

  She had no time for indulging in the sentiment. They still had to find her family and get them to safety. “Did anyone see you phase?” she panted, trying to match his speed. Piras had slowed down for her, but he was still damned near dragging her along.

  “No. Everyone thinks I’m sulking on my shuttle, throwing a temper tantrum.”

  Hope remembered the yelling she’d heard as she’d run out of the shuttle bay. Had that been Piras? She laughed a wild, hysterical sound at the thought of Piras behaving like an enraged toddler.

  At last they reached the throne room. They raced past the clueless guards who patrolled the doorway beyond, the private area of Copeland’s kingdom. “Do you know where Copeland and Charity would be?” Piras asked, slowing as he looked at the doorways along the hall.

  “I do. I’ve been spying on that bastard a long time. There’s a corridor past those two doors on the right.” Hope was gasping now, out of breath from the terror, from running forever, from trying to keep up with her companion’s long legs. “I am so glad you’re here, Piras. You have no idea how glad I am.”

  Maybe the feeling came through in her voice, because he glanced at her in surprise. His com signaled, and the moment passed. He scowled and ran even faster, rounding the corner to the next hall. “The damned thing keeps going off. Sitrel, more than likely. He needs to leave a fucking message already.”

  Their goal was in sight. Hope wheezed, “Copeland’s bedroom is at the end of the corridor, the one with the guards standing outside it.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Piras put on a burst of speed which turned him into a blur again. Then he was gone, leaving Hope to force her exhausted legs to pump faster, to hurry after him.

  * * * *

  Piras didn’t wait to reach the door. It was closed anyway, and who the hell needed openings when he was phased? He burst through the wall and skidded to a stop in Copeland’s sleeping room. The pungent scent of old musk, sweat, and cologne filled his senses until he thought he would choke.

  The Dramok’s knees went weak when he saw Charity. She stood shaking at the foot of an elaborate sleeping mat with tall, ornately carved wooden posts between which a canopy stretched overhead. She was silently crying, tears racing down her cheeks. Both sides of her face were imprinted with savage red handprints. The violent evidence was at odds with the elegant furnishings of the room, complete with rich rugs and stunning paintings and artwork.

  All that was secondary to Piras’s relief. Despite the proof of physical abuse, Charity was still fully clothed. Her blouse and skirt showed no sign of having been disturbed. Piras had not gotten there in time to save her from pain, but he’d made it before she could be raped.

  Copeland lounged naked on the elaborate monstrosity of a sleeping mat, his skinny legs sp
read as he stroked his blue-veined cock and sneered at the frightened girl. “I won’t tell you again. Your father and sister will die, and you will watch. Obey me, wife. Now, or I order their executions.”

  Charity bit her lips together, muffling a sob. White-hot fury flashed in Piras’s skull at the choked sound. She gripped the hem of her blouse in her shaking fists and pulled it up, exposing her stomach. Rage blinded Piras. With a howl, he launched himself at the bed.

  Landing full-length on Copeland put the Holy Leader in contact with the phase device on Piras’s chest. Copeland’s smugly rapacious expression turned to shock as he stared at Piras’s livid face, complete with fangs showing in a wide-open, growling mouth.

  The dim but still-sane part of Piras’s mind was relieved to feel Copeland’s erection wilt. The Voice of God screamed. “Help! Help me! Guards!”

  Piras slapped him, cutting him off. Remembering the marks on Charity’s face, he slapped the other side of Copeland’s face. The sight of blood trickling out of the bastard’s nose made him happy, but not happy enough to stop snarling. “They can’t hear you, asshole. They can’t see you, and they can’t help you. You’re mine, you slimy fuck.”

  Copeland stared up at him. Though there was no real comprehension on the man’s already swelling face, he exhibited plenty of terror. That made Piras happy too. He slapped Copeland a few more times, delighting in the soft, breathless cries of pain, the droplets of flying blood.

  A portion of the enraged fog enveloping the Dramok’s brain dissipated at the sound of Charity’s confused and frightened voice. “Hello? Where—where are you?”

  Murderous fury brought Piras a hair’s breadth from amping up, from first tearing Copeland’s nose off his face, and then other parts before slowly—indulgently—choking the man to death. Piras was still considering the possibility when Hope’s winded voice pulled him back. “I’m here!”

  Charity offered a tiny scream. “What—oh dear prophets! You were phased. But the Holy Leader disappeared!”

  “Piras has him phased on the bed. Here, I’ll put my device in my hand, and we’ll both hold it. Then you’ll be safe and you can see.”

  Unwanted reason returned. Piras realized just in time that he couldn’t commit all the atrocities he wanted to, not in front of the Nath women. He’d come to prevent trauma, not cause it. Plus, the Empire needed Copeland alive for information no one else had. The Unholy Bastard had to be interrogated, made to tell everything in hopes of tracking down and destroying Maf as well.

  Even with a higher motive reminding Piras of his duty to the fleet and Empire, he came close to killing Copeland anyway. The almost-desperate need to do so made him waver for a few seconds. Only the soft muttering of Hope and Charity behind him kept sane enough to hold back.

  It didn’t keep Piras from threatening Copeland to the best of his abilities once he’d gotten past the acid rage that threatened to undo everything. “All right, rapist-false prophet-disgusting piece of shit. You’re going to take a little walk with us. If you’re paying attention, you know you’re phased and no one knows you’re around. I can easily – and joyfully, you repulsive fuck – tear your throat out. At the slightest provocation I will, along with certain other parts of you which sicken me. Don’t fuck with me, asshole. I’m asking for any reason to make you scream for a long, long time. Understood?”

  Copeland nodded, his eyes wide. Except for the blistered parts that Piras had slapped, his face had gone parchment white, almost bloodless enough to match his snowy hair.

  Charity spoke in a hushed tone that sounded simultaneously appalled and impressed. “Wow, Admiral Piras, sir. Remind me to never piss you off.”

  Hope had more practical matters on her mind. “How are you going to keep him phased, Piras?”

  The Dramok considered the problem. Any number of threats might not keep Copeland from trying to break away if they held the phase in locked hands as Hope and Charity were doing. Even a moment’s success in breaking free, during which the Holy Leader might be seen by his followers, could prove ruinous. Yet the idea of hugging the man close made Piras want to retch. Thank the ancestors such a solution was too impractical to attempt.

  He thought of one option which might work. Working carefully to keep them both phased, Piras adjusted the location of the device on his uniform. Before Copeland could think to shout during the split second he was out of contact and un-phased, Piras grabbed the Earth man in a headlock. He pressed the Holy Leader’s cheek against the device.

  With Copeland under his control and whimpering against his ribs, Piras hauled him off the bed. “This will do,” he told the Naths after making sure his fangs were folded away.

  Charity clapped a hand to her mouth, but a hysterical-sounding giggle got through. Piras and Hope both gave her warning glares.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding anything but apologetic. “I just wish everyone could see him like this. Hey slimeball, you look ridiculous with your skinny little naked butt being paraded around by a Kalquorian. Not so holy now, unless you count your ass—”

  “Charity,” Hope said, her tone reprimanding even though her lips twitched.

  “Damn it, get off my case. If I don’t laugh, I’ll start screaming.” Charity swallowed hard. “He was going to kill you and Dad if I didn’t let him—if I didn’t—” Her voice went higher, warning of impending panic.

  “It’s okay,” Piras told her. “Take a deep breath. You’re safe, and he can’t hurt you now.”

  Charity nodded. As Hope whispered comfortingly in her ear, she relaxed. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m good. Let’s get out of here. Please.”

  Piras thanked the ancestors for the girl’s resilience. At least he didn’t have to worry about having to shepherd a hysterical child as he tried to get them safely off the battlecruiser. “All right, Copeland. Keep up. If your head gets ripped off because you dragged your feet, that’s perfectly all right with me.” He ignored the man’s whine, giving Hope his attention. “Where would they have taken your father?”

  “The brig. Follow me.”

  The walked out of Copeland’s awful lair, right past unaware guards. The Holy Leader trotted awkwardly as Piras kept him gripped tightly to his side. “Not so fast. I can’t keep up! I’m an old man, for God’s sake!”

  Hope and Charity looked at Piras. He nodded, and they all walked faster. Copeland wheezed, too breathless to complain any further. Except for his gasps, he uttered no more sound.

  Chapter 19

  The brig wasn’t far from Copeland’s suite of cabins. Piras had the feeling the Voice of God liked to be close to his prisoners’ suffering. No matter how much he pretended to be a man of faith, he was no more than a monster. Piras thought Copeland and Maf truly deserved each other.

  Hope, still clinging to Charity’s hand, led them down an isolated corridor to an office marked Maximum Security. It was a small space. The room was filled with a dented metal table, some equally battered chairs, and a vid monitor showing the cells in the block. Small boxes Piras knew to be field disruptors sat on the shelves.

  Three men crowded in the room. One was seated facing the monitor, keeping a close eye on things. He had only one prisoner to watch. Piras checked the monitor and saw Borey in the middle of three cells. The ousted general paced back and forth in obvious agitation.

  The other two guards sat across the table from each other. They peered at cards fanned before them, with a stack of more cards between them. Round disks of varying colors heaped in a pile in the middle of the table. Piras thought they were playing some sort of game.

  “I’ll see your ten and raise you five,” one said, tossing more disks into the pile.

  Hope scowled at the sight of the guard regarding her father with such rapt attention. “Terrific. If one of us goes in and unphases to tell Dad to activate his device, they’ll see it.”

  “Him disappearing would get their attention anyway. You two get your father. I’ll deal with our friends here.”

  Piras w
aited for the two women to pass into the cell block. He bent to one of the men playing the card game and unphased just long enough to grab the blaster in the guard’s holster. He was invisible again before anyone noticed him.

  However, the guard exclaimed at the sudden loss of weight on his belt. He stared around in confusion as the other two rose from their seats, asking their comrade what was wrong.

  Piras shoved Copeland hard, propelling him at the guard who’d been watching the monitor. The Holy Leader materialized, crashing against the surprised soldier. The three guards yelled at Copeland to get down and to put his hands where they could see him, not recognizing the nude old man as their supreme commander.

  Piras came out of phase. None of the guards registered his presence before he blasted them into oblivion. Their deaths were quick, though far from clean.

  Copeland squealed at the splatters of blood which sprayed against him. Piras stomped over to him, and he cringed. “Don’t kill me! Please!”

  “Don’t worry,” Piras snarled as he grabbed him by the hair and yanked him close. “I have far too many hopes of torturing you to give you as swift a death as theirs.” He pulled Copeland back in the vise between his arm and ribs and re-engaged the phase.

  A second later, General Nath poked his head into the room through the closed door. He stared at Piras. “I heard blasts. Dear prophets, admiral,” he added as he took in the torn bodies of the guards and the naked man hanging in Piras’s grip. “That’s not Copeland!”

  Charity burst through, chortling. “It sure is, Dad! And he’s—ugh! Dead bodies! Blood everywhere!” She jolted across the floor in a strange mincing step, avoiding the splatters even though she was phased. She yanked the smaller Hope behind her, who was too shocked to make her stop.

  As Nath stepped into the room, Piras said, “I’m sorry your daughters had to see this, but it was necessary.”