Retribution

by Sue Lyndon

  She landed with a shriek and struggled in the hood he’d placed over her head. Once she removed it from her body and sat up, an uncomfortable sensation spread through him at the sight of her fear. Her entire form was shaking, and tears coated her face.

  Guilty, he told himself. She’s just as guilty as her husband.

  But Merokk’s words came back to him, damn the male. The ambassador claimed not only was she innocent, but she was a respectable female too. Coming from Merokk, that was high praise. His wife aside, Merokk didn’t associate with humans or hold a particular fondness for them, and this realization gave Zamek pause as he stared down at Layla.

  He walked closer and the coldness of her fear hit him again. He inhaled deep but found no enjoyment in her fear. This angered him because he didn’t understand it.

  Shouldn’t he want to torment her and scare her and eventually kill her?

  He growled as he reached her.

  She curled up in the corner, trying to evade his touch, but he sank down on the bed and grabbed her by the back of her head, twisting his fingers tight in her hair. She gasped and winced, a pained look crossing her face.

  “How is it that you speak my tongue?” he asked, giving her a slight shake. “Not many humans speak the common dialect of Kall, yet you can speak the dialect of Sumlin District.”

  Her tear-filled dark brown eyes met his. “I-I specialized in Kall language and culture in school,” she said, “and I spent two years on the Kall homeworld. I’m considered a top Kall expert among my people and I used to work closely with the President of the United States.” She swallowed hard and his gaze was drawn to the delicate lines of her throat.

  She was so tiny, it wouldn’t take much effort to squeeze the life out of her.

  Yet he still hesitated to hurt her.

  He loosened his grip on her hair, though he didn’t let her go. He’d never been so close to a human female before, let alone touched one, and he found himself surprised by her softness and her beauty.

  Guilt and self-hatred visited him a moment later, because he definitely shouldn’t be assessing her attractiveness.

  “I knew exactly what would happen to me when I learned what Michael had done. I’ve read about the Kall Custom of Retribution.” Though still pale with fear, curiosity sparked in her eyes. “Why-why haven’t you killed me yet?”

  He snarled. “I told you why. I wish to keep you as my prisoner and make you suffer.”

  “I-I remember what you said, but it’s very unusual. From what I’ve learned of your people, most acts of retribution occur in the courtroom directly after a judge’s ruling.”

  “Who are you to question my motives?” He tightened his grip and shook her again. Her hands came up on his arm.

  “Pl-please, you-you’re hurting me,” she said in a trembling whisper.

  “Isn’t that the point?” He drew her closer, their noses nearly touching, and emitted a deep growl.

  “How long will you keep me here? And why are we on a warship? Merokk told me you live here in DC, only a few blocks away from him.”

  “My duties on Earth have come to an end. I am returning to planet Kall.”

  A look of horror washed over her. “You’re bringing me to your homeworld?”

  “The journey takes approximately forty days. I doubt you will live that long, pathetic human.” He released her with a jerk, rose to his feet, and backed away a few steps.

  “Not that it will make a difference to you,” she said, her lips quivering, “but I didn’t know what Michael was going to do. He had a grudge against the Kall—his son died during the war—but I never imagined he might harm one of your females.”

  Zamek withdrew his sword and swung it toward her neck in a rapid movement, only stopping just before the blade sliced her flesh. She paled further and pressed herself against the wall, but there wasn’t anywhere she might go. She was trapped and she knew it. One flick of his wrist and he could sever her head from her body.

  “If your husband held a grudge against my people, you ought to have reported him for suspicious rebel activity.” Zamek increased the pressure of the blade on her throat, though not hard enough to draw blood. Yet.

  “Forgive me, General Zamek, but you would be hard pressed to find a human who doesn’t hold a grudge against the Kall,” Layla said in a calm voice, her eyes meeting his. “Millions of us died during the war. Most of us lost loved ones and friends. Many of us lost our homes.” A look of acceptance had taken over her features, as if she expected he would lose control and kill her now, much earlier than he’d planned, and she was at peace with this knowledge.

  “Your people attacked us first,” he countered, though the argument suddenly felt weak. Yes, humans had caused the destruction of Enta and Yomma, two mountain towns in Sumlin District, but even though an official Kall investigation had determined it was a deliberate act, Zamek doubted it actually was. After all, the majority of the human miners had perished in the attack along with most of the residents of the towns.

  “I don’t wish to argue with you, General Zamek,” Layla said. “We’ve lost good people on both sides. It’s tragic and I truly hope peace between our worlds can be achieved. I hope the human rebels realize their cause is futile and abandon their fight, but I also hope the Kall occupation on Earth doesn’t remain so oppressive. If it does, and if the Kall continue their cruelty in the human refugee camps, you can expect the rebel cause to gain more supporters.”

  Zamek removed the sword from her neck and put it away, sheathing it at his side. He gave her a sharp look. “You must have a lot of influence with Ambassador Merokk. He’s been trying to improve conditions in refugee camps. He’s also interceded in several court cases involving humans, requesting leniency for crimes that usually result in a life sentence.”

  “I count the ambassador as a friend, but I wouldn’t say I have any sway over him. It’s his human wife, Fiona Lockhart, who has changed him. She suffered greatly during the war and in the aftermath of it while she and her mother lived in one of the Kall-run refugee camps. He simply sees what was done to her—someone he’s come to care about—and he wishes to improve conditions for all humans as a way of honoring her and making amends for her suffering.”

  Zamek took a moment to ponder her words. While his warrior instincts told him to crush the humans and never show leniency, he could not deny that she had a good point—if his people continued to treat the humans badly, the rebel cause would likely gain traction. Of course, the Kall could hunt down the rebels and kill them, but at what cost? More deaths like Shessema’s?

  “How long were you married to Michael Dennis?” he found himself asking. Perhaps they hadn’t been together for long. Perhaps she hadn’t known him very well at all.

  “Just two years.” A shadow fell over her face.

  Why was he so curious about her? He ought to turn around and leave her here alone, in the coldness of the brig, and only return when he’d come to his senses and was ready to visit violence upon her. But his next question escaped his mouth before he’d given it much thought.

  “Was your union a happy one?” He shouldn’t have asked this question of her, but the compelling desire to know more about this little human was disrupting his ability to think clearly.

  The look of sadness she wore deepened. “When we were first married, yes.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “But then the war started, and Michael’s son died in battle, and he began to change.”

  “Change how?” What was he doing? Why wasn’t he leaving her cell right now?

  “Well, he became very angry all the time, and he started drinking way too much alcohol and taking pills of some sort—I’m not sure what they were, but I doubt he obtained them legally—and he blamed me for the war and his son’s death.”

  “How could he blame you for that?” Zamek asked in an incredulous tone. Her late husband sounded like a weak and foolish human male.

  “Since I’m an expert in Kall culture, he thought I should’ve known a war was co
ming. But how was I to know a group of illegal human miners would cause the destruction of two Kall towns and set off a chain of events that resulted in the Kall conquering Earth? I tried to reason with him, but he would never listen.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead. He’s dead by his own doing and now I must pay for his sins.” Her soulful eyes lifted to his, and for a long moment, Zamek couldn’t breathe.

  Unsettled by the compassion she was stirring within him, he turned and departed the cell, making sure to lock the door once he reached the corridor. He stared at her through the clear front of the cell. Small holes were spaced along the front wall, which would allow them to speak to one another.

  “You’re right,” he said, hardening his tone. “It doesn’t matter. My wife is still gone, and someone must answer for her death. I will return soon, pathetic human, and when I do, you can expect your suffering to begin.”

  Chapter 5

  For the hundredth time, Zamek found himself studying the files he’d acquired about Layla Remington. He sat at his desk, holding an info tablet, while the stars streamed by in his peripheral vision. He looked up briefly to gaze at the stars through the large viewscreen that took up an entire wall in his quarters, but soon returned his attention to the tablet.

  At his request, this detailed report had been provided by Kall security forces on Earth.

  He swiped through the numerous pictures of Layla, images that showed her by herself, sometimes speaking with reporters, and at other times standing with President Carson. A few pictures of her with Michael were included, though he swiped through those quickly, not wishing to look upon the dishonorable human man’s face.

  According to the report, she’d graduated with honors from Harvard at the age of twenty, acquiring degrees in Interspecies Relations and Alien Languages with a special concentration in Kall. From what he knew of humans, this was a bit young to have graduated from a university, particularly with two degrees. Apparently, she was quite intelligent for a human.

  Immediately upon graduation, she’d traveled to the Kall homeworld, where she’d stayed for two years, exploring the planet and immersing herself in the culture of his people. It was no wonder she could speak the Sumlin dialect of Kall so well—she’d stayed in the main town of Sumlin for three full moon cycles.

  He skipped to the family history section of the report. Her parents passed away when she was only two years old, from an overdose of herininn, which was a highly addictive and dangerous substance that was illegal on most planets, including Kall. After that, she’d gone to live with her aunt. According to the report, her aunt perished during the war and Layla had no other living family members.

  Unexpectedly, his chest tightened at the thought of Layla all alone without a male to protect her. In his culture, the females were always protected. Exigency plans were put into place which named guardians for females who might find themselves widowed or orphaned, no matter how old the female.

  Humans were so different in that females were expected to forge their own lives, often with little help from their families. Marriages weren’t arranged on Earth either. Instead, humans were free to marry whomever they wished, a concept that struck Zamek as incredibly strange.

  Both his marriages had been arranged. Second marriages between the Kall weren’t always arranged, but not long after his first wife had died, Zamek’s father had wished to match him with Shessema, the daughter of a former council member, and Zamek had agreed to the marriage despite having never met her before.

  He looked over at the viewscreen again, his heart clenching as he recalled how excited Shessema had been during her first interstellar trip. She’d enjoyed standing at this very viewscreen and watching the stars streak by. She’d always awoken before him in the mornings and he’d often found her standing here during the early hours of the day, a steaming mug of couffta in her hands.

  He would never see her standing here again. He would never see her smile or hold her in his arms. He would never watch her place her hand gently upon her stomach as she wondered aloud if this would be the moon cycle when they would finally conceive their first child together.

  Fluxx. He shoved the tablet aside and rose to his feet. He began to pace his quarters, as if trying to outrun his grief.

  Females on his planet usually outlived their husbands by a year or two. It was unusual for a Kall male to find himself widowed, yet he’d already lost two wives. One to a rare illness, and another to a brutal act of violence. Each marriage had lasted less than a year.

  Though he wasn’t in the right mindset to even contemplate a third marriage, he knew finding another wife would prove difficult. His people might be technologically advanced, but they still clung to old traditions and superstitions. A twice-widowed male would be viewed as cursed by the ancient gods. No Kall male in his right mind would allow his daughter to marry Zamek, even if he was a highly decorated warrior who’d risen to the rank of general.

  Alone. He would spend the rest of his days alone. No wife. No children.

  He ran a hand through his hair and paced faster.

  He’d never held faith with old superstitions, but perhaps he really was cursed.

  And now he had a human prisoner he was supposed to be torturing, but for a reason he couldn’t yet understand, he hadn’t actually hurt her yet. After three moon cycles of planning and imagining the moment of Layla’s death in the courtroom, he’d been unable to carry it out.

  It was those damn soulful eyes of hers—so dark and full of pain—that had stopped him. She’d looked so innocent kneeling on the tarp in the courtroom, so innocent and frightened.

  He’d spent the three moon cycles before the court date sharpening his weapons, preparing himself for the act of retribution.

  Though he’d announced to the whole courtroom that he was keeping her in order to prolong her suffering, the words had tasted bitter, and he’d experienced a brief surge of sickness as he’d spoken them.

  Why? Why couldn’t he march straight to the brig and exact his revenge?

  He strode to the wall where he kept his weapons when he wasn’t wearing them. Knives, swords, axes, and hatchets gleamed underneath the overhead lights. Moving from weapon to weapon, he traced the blades.

  Why couldn’t he will himself into a frenzy of excitement over the prospect of spilling Layla’s blood?

  He backed away from the wall and returned to his bedroom, where he found a thick leather strap stowed away in a drawer beneath some clothing. He picked up the implement and turned it over in his hands, a plan forming in his mind.

  His wrist comm buzzed, distracting him from his thoughts of revenge. He returned the strap to the drawer. Later. Perhaps later he would use it on his little human prisoner. Maybe once he saw her in pain, he would find he actually enjoyed her suffering and then he could bring himself to finish her off, as was his right, as was his duty. Her life belonged to him.

  “Yes?” he spoke into the comm.

  “General Zamek,” came Commander Vavvis’s voice, “we’ve discovered a field of wreckage approximately twenty lignas away. We estimate it contains the remnants of fifteen Verrsuan trading vessels.”

  “Any idea what happened?” Zamek asked, already on his way to the bridge. His people had a close relationship with the Verrsuans and were obligated to investigate such a tragedy, as well as help any survivors.

  “Our scans show a Bexxanian warbird recently passed through the area and fired weapons.”

  Zamek cursed under his breath. “Set course for the wreckage field and immediately start scanning for any sign of survivors. I am on my way.”

  He reached the bridge and found his crew working fast to gather more information about the situation. A screen showed three blinking dots amidst the floating wreckage, evidence of three surviving Verrsuans.

  No Bexxanian warbirds could be found within the Tammusha’s scanning range, but Zamek ordered his crew to continually scan for the aliens. Any enemy of the Verrsuans was an enemy of the Kall, and any B
exxanian ship they came across would be destroyed on sight, no questions asked.

  It was well known the Bexxanians had attacked several Verrsuan trading vessels recently. If the Bexxanians didn’t cease the attacks, war would likely break out.

  At the prospect of war, a rush of anticipation and power spread through Zamek. He’d been born to fight. As soon as he was old enough to walk, he’d begun sparring with his cousins and training to become a warrior. He’d become a Kall warrior at a young age, before he was even considered an adult among his people, and he had fought—and won—more battles than most warriors.

  He’d always been driven by the fierce need to protect the Kall homeworld and his people’s trusted allies. Hand-to-hand combat was his preferred method of fighting. On the battlefield, he’d killed thousands of alien enemies, including humans. But in deep space, far from any habitable planet, any battle waged would be mostly fought with his warship’s advanced weaponry.

  He frowned at the thought, but his spirits rose at the prospect of boarding a Bexxanian warbird. His muscles tensed at the promise of an impending battle.

  Once they reached the debris field, the three surviving Verrsuans were rescued and brought to the Tammusha’s medical bay. Zamek hurried to the medical bay to greet them and to his relief found they hadn’t sustained life-threatening injuries.

  “What can you tell us about the attack?” he asked the highest ranking among them, a Verrsuan male named Amorrga.

  “We were on our way to Xernnal,” the male replied, referring to a well-known tourist planet, “when a Bexxanian warbird chased us down and began firing on our trading vessels. We surrendered—our ships, even fifteen of them, are no match for a Bexxanian warbird—and they boarded our vessels and stole our cargo.”