Alien Apocalypse: The Complete Series (Parts I-IV)

by JC Andrijeski

  “Of course,” he said politely, walking directly towards them.

  Jet couldn’t help noticing that Laksri moved more like a soldier than an athlete, which she found faintly reassuring in comparing the two males. Before she could line them up in any more detail in her mind, however, Laksri had already reached where she stood.

  He glanced again at Trazen, but only after he succeeded in inserting himself between the other Nirreth and Jet, and then only after he had his tail coiled tightly around Jet’s waist. His dark blue eyes shifted to Trazen’s face, still holding that friendly smile, even as his arm flexed noticeably where it curled around Jet’s shoulders.

  “Greetings, Ringmaster Trazen,” Laksri said, bowing his head politely. “Are you looking out for my young companion for me...?”

  Trazen looked between the two of them, smiling thinly.

  “She is a clever one, your mammal,” Trazen said. His eyes lingered on Jet’s long, black hair as the breeze caught it, fanning it out to one side of her face. His gaze shifted back to Laksri. “...I highly doubt she needs my protection.”

  “She is clever, it is true,” Laksri conceded neutrally.

  Jet saw the tension in his eyes that time and leaned against his side, smiling tautly up at him. Jet got the feeling he would have pulled her behind him entirely if he could have, but instead he merely squeezed her against his hard form.

  “It is admirable, so much devotion,” Trazen remarked.

  Jet still followed his tail in her peripheral vision, but relaxed when she saw him pull it further behind him, and out of range of any part of her skin.

  “...Perhaps you should not make it so obvious how much she pleases you?” the large Nirreth suggested. “You are liable to make your subjects jealous, Prince Laksri.”

  Laksri only inclined his head, pretending to miss the look Trazen had given her. He tugged on Jet’s waist, pulling her back another step from Trazen’s still-moving tail. As he did, Laksri smiled again, motioning with his head and fingers towards the cart.

  He spoke to her, his voice as calm as before. “We must go now, before the crowd gathers, and you are recognized.” He glanced back at Trazen. “...Thank you again, honored Ringmaster. Would you like anything from the cart?”

  “No. No, I am not hungry for such things...”

  He let his voice trail suggestively, even as his eyes bored into Jet’s, lingering on her hair before traveling over her body and the dress.

  Jet bit her lip to stay silent that time.

  Turning away from Trazen altogether, she smiled at Laksri, who also pretended he’d missed the added meaning in the Nirreth’s words, as well as his rather too-long stare.

  She let Laksri lead her casually away, realizing after they’d gone a few yards that she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a sharp exhale, trying to shake off her anger.

  Only when she and Laksri were well out of hearing range did she risk trying to talk to him, and even then, she spoke in a murmur. She knew how good Nirreth hearing could be. She had to guess Trazen’s would be better than most.

  “I thought you said he would back off, once he knew who you really were?” she said.

  Laksri didn’t answer, but she saw his mouth pucker in a Nirreth frown.

  “He is persistent,” he said.

  “He practically threatened you.”

  Laksri conceded her words with a tilt of his head. “Richter is looking into it. He thinks perhaps Trazen has some agenda in this fight, too. Beyond his more personal interests, I mean...and a dislike of being bested in any visible way.”

  “Agenda? You think he’s working for the usurpers, you mean?”

  Laksri smiled thinly, glancing at her. “It seems more likely, does it not?”

  Jet nodded, but felt her mouth firm into a frown of her own.

  Trust Richter to suspect him without warning her.

  “So he might be the one?” Jet said. “Behind the attack on the compound? And the assassination threats on us?”

  Laksri looked at her, as if hesitating, then made that conciliatory gesture again.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice reluctant. “Yes. It might be him.”

  “What does Richter think?”

  Laksri frowned. “I do not know for sure. He is being even more indirect than usual, in regards to Trazen.” He met Jet’s gaze. “He suspects something specific, though. Perhaps not the usurpers, after all.”

  “Who else is there?”

  Laksri’s expression held real puzzlement that time, and more than a hint of frustration. “I have been trying to find out...through other means.”

  Jet nodded, biting her lip. She fought to shake off the fear that tried to steal over her limbs, even as she tried to determine its precise source. She couldn’t do either, not entirely. After all, unless Richter and Anaze found whoever had been hired to kill her, there was a good chance Jet might not live to see many more sunrises inside the Green Zone’s dome.

  If it was Trazen, he could kill her easily enough.

  All he needed was to arrange for her death in the Rings. The fact that he hadn’t yet didn’t reassure her even a little.

  It just made her wonder what he was waiting for.

  The security set-up was ridiculous, of course.

  Laksri had a personal guard of his own, now that he had been named as eldest son, prince and heir to the Nirreth realm. Between the Royal Security force and Jet’s protection unit for the Rings, she should have felt safe, even in such a public place.

  She didn’t though, if only because she had no idea where the loyalties of any of these people truly lay. She knew enough by now about the Nirreth Palace of the Royals to know that most of the beings there, human and Nirreth, weren’t exactly what they seemed. Pretty much all of them had side deals going on, whether political, black market, slave trade, the gambling pens or whatever else. The problem lay in figuring out whether those deals were relatively benign, relatively not-benign but unlikely to impact her, or likely to get her killed.

  Laksri played it cool, probably to reassure her, pretending he had faith in his Nirreth guards.

  Jet found herself doubting that, however.

  Richter gave her assurances too, but Jet believed those even less than she believed Laksri’s.

  Richter told her that he and Anaze had all of their available resources out searching for whoever made the threats against her and Laksri. The threats had a pretty big anti-human flavor, but Jet knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Anyone could use that as cover for some other agenda, and plenty were racist against humans but also had more than one motive.

  Supposedly, Richter had contacts in different parts of the Royal Palacee, the broader Nirreth society, the human slave pens and even the more democratic branches of the Nirreth government, as well as the Nirreth black market. He’d been mining those for intel (again, if he could be believed), but so far, all he’d gotten were rumors. Richter claimed he had at least one contact among the usurpers, too, but that hadn’t yielded much yet either.

  Despite their complete lack of usable information, Anaze and Richter both pretended to be confident that it was only a matter of time before they caught whoever had put the contract out on Jet herself.

  Jet had her doubts.

  Moreover, the ceremony would be the perfect place to make an unequivocal statement against the compromise Laksri and the Queen had made with the usurpers.

  Being here, surrounded by faceless bodyguards and a crowd of strangers all straining to get a look at her and her Nirreth “boyfriend,” or whatever Laks was to her these days, only made that uneasy feeling worse. The fact that Laks had recently been named the successor to the throne didn’t ease Jet’s mind even a little.

  Laksri had already warned her that his supposed supporters among the Nirreth could be just as deadly and unpredictable as those who came out directly against him. If Laksri did something to anger them, they could turn on him fast.

  She’d already asked all of them, more tha
n once, when she could contact the humans back in the skag pit where she’d been born, including her mother and her brother, Biggs.

  They’d all said no, or “not yet,” which hadn’t exactly surprised her, but angered her anyway. It irritated her more when she won her five Rings matches, which should have meant she could bring five people from the outside into Green Zone Hezeret.

  Laksri and Richter both asked her to wait on exercising that privilege too, saying that Jet’s family would only be used as leverage against them, given the current political instability.

  Jet highly doubted her mother or brother would be open to relocating to the Green Zone anyway, even with her assurances. They’d probably think she’d been brainwashed, or put up to it by the Nirreth by force. Even so, she’d wanted to have the conversation.

  In the pits, her life had been shortened by everything she drank and ate, even the air she breathed. The overwhelming feeling she got, when thinking about her life back at the pit, was to wonder why. She didn’t understand why humans lived the way they did, when the Nirreth could produce so much, seemingly with so little effort. Between their miniature machines cleaning up select areas of the planet, their water processing systems and greenhouse gardens and solar-powered atmosphere generators and clean husbandry methods, Jet didn’t see the point living in the toxic waste dump that had been Vancouver.

  Especially now, when she might make a real difference to the humans she’d left behind.

  In that, she supposed, Richter was right about her.

  She was a pragmatist, through and through.

  The admission bothered her. It bothered her a lot, truthfully.

  Even the reasons she’d gotten for not being able to contact her family made sense...to the logical side of Jet’s brain. Laksri said they needed to ease into altering the human and Nirreth dynamic, and that timing would play an important role. If Laksri came into power and began making radical changes from day one...and if it was perceived he’d started with his human companion and her family...the danger of another coup was not small.

  Things like relocating all of the humans to their own Green Zone or building some kind of half-human, half-Nirreth Green Zone, or even integrating the skags into one of the current, existing Green Zones, would be way too radical to enact now, given the political climate.

  Anyway, Laksri and Richter wanted the Queen to start that work.

  Jet understood why Laksri asked her to wait. She even believed the regret she’d felt on him when he asked it of her. Even so, it was a bitter thing to swallow, especially since she had no idea how her family was doing in her absence. It also didn’t make her feel any better about the fact that she was dining on steak and fresh bread, fruit juice and and greenhouse vegetables, when she knew her brother and mom were likely picking over a few bites of poisoned fish, wormy rice and vegetables with more than a week’s worth of mold.

  Jet was still thinking about this, frowning, when Laksri approached her from her other side, bringing her mind back to the present.

  He’d barely left her side since the encounter with Trazen. She didn’t mind his hover though, not under the circumstances. Even so, when he touched her bare back exposed by the dress, she jumped, gritting her teeth a little before she looked up.

  He didn’t comment, or remove his hand.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked in English, his voice a murmur.

  “No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Since when has that stopped any of you?”

  He purred humorously, giving her that Nirreth look that bordered on wry, even as he shook his large head, now wrapped in an ornate cloth that appeared to be woven at least partly with gold-coated thread. It wasn’t exactly a crown, not by human standards, but she definitely found herself thinking it must have some significance.

  Glancing down at his clothes, which included an embroidered tunic with a dense, almost dizzying design, along with new boots that reached to his knees and appeared to be of a soft, dark-gray leather, she found herself thinking that, all in all, he looked the part of the new prince. If she hadn’t known him already, she might have found it intimidating.

  As it was, she couldn’t help smiling at the more opulent look, remembering him dressed as a Nirreth pirate the day they’d first met.

  As if noticing her appraisal, he gave a low snort, lashing his tail in a quick arc.

  “Are you going to, how do you say...’give me crap’ about this later?” he said. “How I look?”

  She grinned at him. “I might.”

  “I see,” he said, his voice thoughtful. His dark eyes drifted down her dress, the look in them growing more openly appraising, closer to how Trazen had looked at her earlier. “Because,” he added, softer, tugging lightly on her arm to bring her closer. “...If you are feeling dedicated to this crap-giving later, I should probably point out that you very much look the part of the princess. Therefore, if you plan to walk that road with me, expect to hear the same in return, Jet Tetsuo, and not only while no one else is listening...”

  Jet snorted a low laugh, rolling her eyes a little as he kissed her temple.

  “Gotcha,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He gave her another of those subtle, Nirreth smiles.

  Glancing at the antique, human-style clock on the mantle, which had been fitted to Nirreth time, Jet felt her amusement fade.

  “Any news?” she said––unnecessarily, since she knew Laksri would have told her if there had been. “Anaze?” she clarified, again unnecessarily. “Richter?”

  He tilted his head to the left, a Nirreth’s no.

  “No,” he repeated. “They are here, though...as are their people. So you are even more well-protected now than––”

  “Yeah,” she said, cutting him off before he could lie to her, too. She blew stray hairs out of her face. “Yeah, I know. You all keep telling me how safe I am,” she muttered. “Why won’t you just give me a gun? Then I’d feel safe.”

  “Richter thinks––”

  “I don’t trust Richter,” she warned, giving him a look. “He’s lucky I haven’t killed him myself. After that crap he pulled, getting me to play terrorist for him in the Palace...”

  Laksri held up a three-fingered hand, cautioning her to be quiet.

  Looking around the small tent, she had to concede his point.

  Still, even her own mention of that night brought a sick feeling to her chest.

  Biting her lip, Jet walked to a small cart on the other side of the room, pouring herself a glass of water. Offering the first one to Laksri, she downed it in several swallows when he waved her off. When she glanced up next, he was watching her, a mixture of caution and worry on his face. She couldn’t help speaking when she saw the emotion and thoughts flicker briefly behind his eyes. Normally, Laks was better at hiding his emotions from her.

  Well, when she didn’t have his venom in her system anyway.

  “Do you really want a gun?” he said.

  Jet let out a low snort. “Of course I want a gun!”

  Laksri emitted a low purr. Then he surprised her, pulling a small weapon out of a pocket in his tunic. She recognized it as what they called a pulre (“hammer” in Nirreth). Hesitating a bare instant, he handed it to her.

  “Can you hide it?” he said stiffly. “In your boot, perhaps?”

  She took it from him with her free hand before he could change his mind. “Yes.”

  Setting down her glass, she hiked up the long dress, ignoring Laksri’s eyes on her as she shoved the flat, stone-looking gun into the top of her boot. Despite its size, Jet happened to know that pulre packed quite a punch. When she glanced up next, Laksri’s eyes were still focused on her legs. He looked away when she glanced up, lashing his tail in a few quick arcs.

  Something about his expression bothered her, though.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what you think, Laks?” she said, her voice quiet. “I mean, what you really think?”

  “About what?” he said, his face and vo
ice neutral once more.

  “You know what. You don’t trust him, either. Richter.”

  Laksri gave her a slow smile, folding his long arms. “Only a fool would trust someone like Richter. The man lies more easily than he breathes.”

  “But you know more than you’re telling me,” Jet said, pouring herself another glass of water. “What do you know...exactly? What is he up to?”

  Again, he gave her one of those warning frowns, glancing around at the tent as he motioned her off with a wave of his fingers.

  “We can perhaps discuss this over dinner, Jet,” he said. “When the ceremony is finished.”

  “Or,” broke in another voice, as the flap of the tent was flipped abruptly back. “Maybe we can talk about it now?” Richter paused––likely for dramatic effect, Jet thought in irritation––then grinned at her. “...While I’m actually here? Personally, I’d love to hear the theories the two of you have cooked up so far. I’m sure they would be deeply enlightening. Or, at the very least, highly entertaining...”

  Richter grinned, his dark chestnut hair slicked back in an uncharacteristic braid, the gold streak that ran through it bright amongst the darker weave.

  Jet knew the style was probably Richter dressing up for the ceremony, but she couldn’t help thinking it only made him look even more like a pirate. His tunic nearly matched Laksri’s own in terms of detail and opulence, and he wore similar, animal-skin boots only in black and with shorter, softer-looking fur. Instead of gold, he dressed all in black. Even the tunic he wore was mostly black, despite the midnight blue threads woven across the front, making it glow and sparkle in iridescent colors as it caught fragments of firelight.

  “In love with me yet, kitten?” the human asked, winking at her.

  Jet didn’t bother to make a facial expression.

  Still, she found herself thinking that the look in Richter’s eyes appeared warier than usual, under that condescending smirk. It might even be anger she saw lingering there.

  He didn’t like the idea of her and Laks talking about him, whatever he pretended.