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 that more logical side of Jet’s brain. Laksri said they needed to ease into altering the human and Nirreth dynamic, that timing would play an important role. If Laksri came into power and began making radical changes from day one, the danger of another coup was not small.
That danger would be worse if it was perceived a human controlled Laks from behind the scenes, even if that human was a female, and the current darling of the Rings.
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 all at once.
Anyway, Laksri and Richter wanted the Queen to start that work.
So, given everything, 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.
The fact that Jet dined on steak most nights, fruit juice, fresh bread, milk, greenhouse vegetables, eggs, and salmon every morning, when she knew her brother and mom were likely picking over a few bites of poisoned fish, wormy rice, vegetables with a week’s worth of mold, contaminated milk… definitely didn’t help.
Jet was thinking about this, frowning, when Laksri approached from her other side.
He’d barely left her since the encounter with Trazen.
She didn’t mind his hovering, 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 woven with gold-coated thread.
It wasn’t exactly a crown, not by human standards, but she found herself thinking it must have some significance.
Glancing down at his clothes, an embroidered tunic with a dense, dizzying design, plain gray pants, and knee-high boots of soft, dark-gray leather, she found herself thinking that, all in all, he looked the part of a 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 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? The fancy shoes?”
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, smiling 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 was news. “Anaze?” she clarified, again unnecessarily. “Richter?”
He tilted his head to the left, a Nirreth 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, sighing.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, her voice more subdued. “You all keep telling me how safe I am.” She added in a lower mutter, “Of course no one will give me a gun. I’d feel a lot safer with a gun. Several guns would be good, too––”
“Richter thinks––”
“I know what Richter thinks,” she warned, giving him a look. “Richter’s damned 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 four-fingered hand, cautioning her to be quiet.
Looking around the small tent, Jet had to concede his point.
Still, even her own mention of that night brought a sick feeling to her chest.
Biting her lip, she walked to a small cart on the other side of the room, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher sitting there. 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 staring at the emotion and thoughts she saw there. Normally, Laks was better at hiding his feelings 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 a pulre, one of those small, stone-shaped guns Nirreth called “hammers.” Despite their size, they packed a serious punch.
Hesitating a bare instant, he handed it to her.
“Can you hide it?” he said. “In your boot, maybe?”
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 the pulre could blow a man-sized hole in a concrete wall.
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?”
“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 Richter. The man lies more easily than he breathes.”
“But you know more than you’re telling me,” Jet insisted, pouring herself another glass of water. “What do you think? And what do you know exactly? What is he up to?”
He gave her another of those warning frowns, glancing around 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?”
Stopped at the open tent flap, Richter paused––likely for dramatic effect, Jet thought in irritation––then grinned at her.
“You know,” he added. “While I’m actually here? Personally, I’d lov
e 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, highly entertaining…”
Richter stood there, smirking between them, his dark chestnut hair slicked back in an uncharacteristic braid. The gold streak in his hair ran through the darker weave, bright as sunlight.
Jet knew the hair was probably Richter dressing up, but 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.
The black of his tunic was broken only by midnight blue threads across the front, making it glow and sparkle in iridescent colors where it caught fragments of filtered sunlight.
“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 Richter’s eyes appeared warier than usual, under his condescending smirk.
It might even be anger she saw lingering there.
Whatever he pretended––he didn’t like her and Laks talking about him.
She found the thought mildly satisfying, even though she knew a cornered snake was more dangerous than one sunning itself on a rock.
Making Richter more paranoid probably wouldn’t benefit anyone. Besides, according to Laksri, they needed Richter. He had a lot of pull with just about every remaining human military force on Earth. The North American faction looked to him as their leader, and would follow his commands, even now. Also, Richter oversaw the only real network of human spies living and working among the Nirreth.
Apparently, most of Richter’s people were so insanely loyal to him, they would more or less die at his command.
Laksri told Jet all this with grudging admiration.
Whatever Laksri’s opinions of Richter’s character, he acknowledged him openly as a kind of strategic and political genius.
Richter had influence over human skag encampments, Green Zone humans on multiple continents. He even had spies on Astet, the Nirreth home world, and several other off-world colonies. He had strong ties to the Hamster Cage settlements, those human camps surrounding Nirreth farming colonies and run by the Nirreth. He had military cells on all of the Green Zone continents, and even a few out at sea.
That meant he had people on the ground in Jet’s old home.
Not only Anaze, but other people. People who still lived there, in the pits.
People with direct access to Jet’s mom, and her brother.
So yeah, even apart from Laksri’s more complicated, strategic reasons, Jet couldn’t afford to piss Richter off. She knew he likely wouldn’t hesitate to kill one of hers, just to make a point. If Richter got it into his head that Jet was actively working against him, he might decide to take out her entire skag village.
Or maybe just hurt a few of them, until she got more cooperative.
Looking away from Richter’s face, Jet finished off her last swallows of water before plunking her glass back on the drink cart.
When she turned, she kept her expression carefully neutral.
“Did you come to see if I die, Richter?” she said, quirking an eyebrow.
His smile turned faintly predatory, right before he glanced down her dress.
“It would be crime to kill you in that get-up, love,” he said. “I won’t have it.”
She rolled her eyes, biting back irritation, in spite of herself.
He still knew how to get to her.
Better than Laksri. Better even than Traven.
She was about to snark back at him, when a second man entered the tent behind Richter. She thought at first it was one of Richter’s mysterious “people,” but when she looked at his face, she started, recognizing his son, Anaze.
She hadn’t seen Anaze in months.
Not since that whole mess went down with the Royals.
Even that night, he’d barely said a word, at least after they finished explaining to Jet the basics of what happened.
Anaze looked older now––older than he had even a few months earlier.
His angular features, so different from the thick, large-featured face of his father, still made her think of a feral animal.
Now, he looked borderline dangerous.
Anaze and his father shared the same olive-toned skin and large eyes, but Anaze had inherited his mother’s body-type, rather than the stocky, wrestler-like build of his father. Lean and long-limbed, Anaze looked more like a distance runner.
He also had more of his mother’s Native American features, with high cheekbones and eyes that slanted slightly at the corners, giving his darker skin a different meaning, at least in terms of his overall ethnicity.
He appeared to have gained some weight since Jet had seen him last, but none of it was fat. He looked more as if he’d gone back to fighting with his sword every day.
She remembered then, that Richter once said something about putting Anaze to work in the Rings.
“Well, princess?” Richter pulled her out of her thoughts, and her eyes off Anaze. “Are you ready for this?”
“For what?” She grunted. “Being bait for you and your jackass rebels?”
Richter burst into a laugh.
That time, it sounded almost genuine.
“You have so little faith in me, kitten.”
She didn’t bother to answer that.
For some reason, her silence made Richter laugh again.
When Jet glanced at Laksri, she caught a faint warning in his dark eyes, right before they shifted to Richter. Fighting back another flush of irritation that he wouldn’t just cut the crap and talk to her, Jet looked at Richter, too.
“So did you find out anything?” she said. “Anything you can tell us?”
“What makes you think I would tell you, kitten?” Richter said, winking.
“Nothing whatsoever.”
“So why even ask?”
There was a silence.
Then Jet exhaled, adjusting her dress around her hips. “I don’t know, Eamon,” she said. “I must have been having an optimistic moment. Don’t worry. It’ll pass.”
That time, both Laksri and Richter laughed. Laksri’s sounded more like a rumble from deep in his chest, a kind of purring sound she’d grown to like.
Looking between them, she let her hands fall to her sides, shaking her head and smiling with them, almost in spite of herself. When she glanced at Anaze, his expression looked wary. He seemed to be gauging her face even more closely than his father.
“What, then?” Jet said, sighing a second time as she looked back at Richter. “What do I need to know? Anything? What are my orders, General?”
Still chuckling, Richter shook his head.
“Don’t get shot,” he said.
Walking up to her unexpectedly, he gave her an even more unexpected hug, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing before Jet had time to react. She let him hold her, more stunned than anything. When he ended the hug, he didn’t release her right away, just grinned in her face, holding her bare shoulders in his big hands.
“I really am quite fond of you, Jet,” he said, surprising her again by kissing her on the cheek. Glancing at the tall Nirreth, he looked back at her face long enough to give her a wink. “Laksri might have a fight on his hands, if he intends to keep you.”
Before Jet could think of a suitable retort, Richter let go, chuckling again as a low growl erupted from Laksri’s throat, a warning Jet doubted was solely in jest.
Her own part-annoyed, part-puzzled, part-stunned reaction hadn’t quite worn off when she happened to catch Anaze’s gaze.
His eyes flared with a darker anger as he stared at his father.
Seeing the murderous look there, Jet blinked, taken aback.
She’d heard Anaze criticize his father before, but she’d never seen him look at him like that. She’d never even seen An
aze be openly defiant of him.
Fighting to push all of it out of her expression, at least until she could decide what any of it meant, she snorted, folding her arms.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “All this love from the best friend who conned me, the father figure who kidnapped, enslaved and prostituted me…” She raised an eyebrow at Richter, then rolled her eyes towards Laksri. “…And the lizard prince they sold me to.”
She’d more than half-expected this to make Richter laugh, too.
When she looked around at the three faces that time, however, she noted their expressions in bewilderment. What she saw didn’t strike her as amusement.
Rather, it looked a heck of a lot closer to guilt.
3
The Ceremony
Jet knew she should be listening.
She should be paying attention to what was being said by the lizard-skin in the pointed, metallic-looking hat who stood at the sloped podium in front of her.
Whenever she tried, her mind drifted.
Most of the ceremony had been conducted in some form of archaic Nirreth poetry, which didn’t help. Even if Jet cared, the most sophisticated translation program would miss most of the symbolic elements––and Jet didn’t care.
She caught a few less-cryptic things, here and there.
“…As in the books scribed by the most holy oracles and saints, when calamity happens, it is often a means of making way for change that might otherwise have been difficult to perceive as necessary and right…
“…According to our most ancient rules, ascribing all rights to the Eldest Son of the cleanest bloodline to our Most Beloved Royal Family, descended from that most ancient of tribes, the Ukanazi…
The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure Page 47
