She nodded. “The newspaper said he did break one of the windows. He tried to climb out, but a sliver of glass cut right across his throat. He bled to death before rescue got there, hanging halfway out the window.”
There. It was out. Cissy’s fire, meant to frighten the neighbor away, had instead resulted in his death. If that wasn’t murder, she didn’t know what was.
The men were quiet for a few seconds, absorbing the tale with sober expressions on their faces. They sat there, forming verdicts in their minds. Cissy waited for them to rule on her guilt.
If they hadn’t been part of the legislative and justice system of Kalquor, she thought they might pardon her actions. Cissy knew that Kalquorian men were protective enough of women to kill in their defense. Tasha in particular would incite the most defensive actions of any man.
However, these were men charged with upholding laws and punishing wrongdoers. Diltan had proven through his actions that even emperors were not above the law. They must see her for what she was: an accidental murderer, but a murderer nonetheless.
When Wal spoke, he shocked her. “I would say justice was determined to be served, even if you didn’t want to be a killer. You did not commit homicide, Cissy.”
She shook her head at him though her heart filled to know he was willing to find her innocent. “You wouldn’t say that if you were judging the case.”
One side of his mouth twisted up in a weak smile. “Actually, I would. If the crime had been committed on Kalquor, you’d be tried for arson and possibly manslaughter. However, the mitigating circumstances would lead me to sentence you to psychological testing and counseling for the trauma you had suffered. Perhaps some community service, depending on your level of understanding the crime you’d committed. Probably not, considering you were only a child at the time of the incident. No, intensive recovery therapy would have been my decision.”
“But Wal ... a man died.”
Rolat snorted. “He went too easily considering his crime against Tasha. Under our laws, a sexual predator of minors would have been executed if found guilty anyway. He would have died a slow, agonizing death.”
Diltan nodded. “With executioners lined up for the privilege of doing so.”
Cissy looked from one man to the next. It dawned on her that nothing had changed between them – save for the looks of pride the men gave her.
“You mean all that? You don’t think it’s awful that I killed someone? That I’m a horrible bitch for ending a man’s life?”
Diltan held out his arms to her. “Little girl ... come to me.”
Rolat released her grudgingly. Scarcely believing her good fortune but reassured by the tender expression on the Dramok’s face, Cissy crawled to Diltan.
He gathered her in his arms. The other two men crowded close, surrounding her once more. Cissy sank into the heavenly sensation of being the one protected instead of the protector. Part of her chided herself for the weakness, but didn’t even the strong deserve a moment or two of being cared for? She’d have to ask Rolat.
For now, her gaze centered on Diltan. There was no trace of his trademark smugness on his stunning features. All was tender regard mixed with affection. Cissy basked in it.
His smile was far from the arrogant cast she’d grown used to. It was a smile that made her heart flutter, like some fairytale princess meeting her prince. Cissy wanted to groan at the mushy turn of her feelings, but right now the sensation was too right to summon disgust.
Even Diltan’s voice felt like a gentle caress. “What a wonderful sister you are, taking care of Tasha like that. You went to your sister’s rescue. No one with an ounce of sense would ever fault you for it. Besides, who knows how many other victims that monster attacked?”
Rolat took her hand to press kisses to each of her fingertips in turn. “Not to mention how many potential victims you saved from him. Your actions were those of a loyal, brave person.”
Wal cradled the back of her head in his hands. “Even if you had intended his death, there were too many variables to call you a murderer. You were a child, a frightened child taking on a responsibility too great. You have earned no criticism.”
Cissy could have argued that. She didn’t believe in execution, even for the most heinous of crimes. Her faith taught her that as long as someone lived, they could be redeemed. Her act had not been for vengeance, but the result had taken away a man’s chance to redress his wrongs.
Yet as Diltan’s mouth pressed against hers, all self recrimination fled. His kiss was slow, his tongue sliding in to twine silkily with hers. As he kissed her, the other two men stroked her body with feathery touches. She trembled at the care they gave her. It was somehow more profound than the raucous play they had indulged in up until now.
They slipped her clothes from her body. The men continued to kiss and fondle her with devoted attention. Cissy’s senses were astounded by how such tender touches could send her every cell alight. At once she felt melting soft and hyper aware. Mouths and fingers stroked soft tendrils of sensation that flared bright until she was left whimpering and shaking in Diltan’s lap.
They left no inch of her untouched. Mouths suckled on her earlobes, lips, nipples, fingers, toes, and clit. Warm, raspy tongues tasted all the trembling flesh they could find. Fingers explored every hill and fold, discovering the warm places, the sensitive parts, the secrets of her body. When their discoveries made Cissy cry out and strain with overwhelmed pleasure, they held her still as they coaxed storms of ecstasy free. When each squall ended, they started over again.
Cissy was only dimly aware when they carried her to their sleeping room. The billowy cloud of the mattress beneath her back and the warmth of Diltan and Rolat on either side roused her just a bit from her blissful dream. Wal’s solid heat covered her, and the welcome joining of his body to hers brought renewed desire. He moved over her, his flesh sliding within hers with easy, hair-raising friction.
As he loved her, the other two men continued to kiss and stroke, now dividing their attention between Cissy and Wal. The Imdiko moaned into her mouth, and she answered him as they strived for mutual bliss, aided by the urgings of Diltan and Rolat. Their cries rose to crescendo as pleasure swept their twined bodies.
Then Rolat’s bulk pinned her. He was careful as Wal had been. The Nobek’s restraint made Cissy feel his power as never before. Once more she and the man she made love to were encouraged by the other two. Knowing caresses goaded them towards shared rapture, adoring encouragements spoken in whispers. Cissy had a few wondrous moments of feeling Rolat filling her with his pleasure before her cries joined his.
Then Diltan blanketed her. Her most beautiful lover. Her often irritating opponent. Cissy realized that beneath the arrogance was a strong, loyal man, someone the equal to her strength. Someone who would call her on her rebelliousness just as she would call him on his overreaching ambition.
We were made for each other, she thought. Then his cocks slid inside her, and she thought no more.
Long, careful, but eager strokes kindled into shared fire as they stared into each other’s eyes. They moved together as Wal and Rolat added to the heat, blazing hotter with each passing second. When combustion came, Cissy gave herself fully to the flames, screaming Diltan’s name. Her ears rang with his shouts of her name. They burned and burned, feeding themselves to the inferno until there was nothing left but glowing warmth.
Cissy drifted in the arms of the men surrounding her. She thought she must have fallen asleep, because Diltan’s voice pulled her into reality from a long way off.
“There now. Will that do as a reward for being such a good sister?”
Cissy sighed, snuggling between her lovers. “Killing is wrong. I believe in that with all of my being, but what you said about keeping that awful man from harming others also makes sense. I feel much better.”
She smiled at the three faces surrounding her, her heart filled with warmth. No, filled with more than just that. Filled with ... love.
L
ove. She loved these men. Even the one still lying on top of her, the one who drove her crazy most of the time. Perhaps especially him.
Cissy mentally shook her head, trying to order her thoughts. It couldn’t be. It was the afterglow of wonderful sex making her silly, making her think things that couldn’t be. Falling in love wasn’t possible yet, was it? It felt wrong to be head over heels all at once like this. Yet it also felt perfectly right.
With all the problems they faced right now, heaven help her.
Chapter 23
Clajak kept his face impassive as Councilman Maf presented his evidence to the rest of the Royal Council and all of the Empire. The Dramok Emperor had no doubt every man and woman of Kalquor watched the vids. They probably exclaimed as angrily as the onlookers in the filled-to-capacity public gallery.
Every word out of Maf’s mouth damned the Empire’s leadership. Clajak could not take comfort in the fact that Tidro had thus far escaped extradition, nor that Jessica’s family was not in the private gallery watching the proceedings. Not when he could feel the very foundations of his world shaking beneath his feet. Not when despite all of Yuder’s protestations he knew Tidro was as guilty as the rest of his clan.
The threat of violence was all too real for anyone connected however remotely to the scandal. The cries for revolution grew every day. Accusations of genocide were made by public leaders and their followers. Many of the people called for the resignation of the entire council, for new elections to take place. There were calls for Yuder, Ospar, and Rajhir’s executions.
More troubling was the dissension coming from the military’s ranks. Bevau got hourly reports from the ground forces and space fleet of a spike in insubordinations. The fighting part of the Empire, made up overwhelmingly of unclanned Nobeks, was in turmoil. Some even openly sided with the Basma’s call for the government’s overthrow and expulsion of all Earthers.
Jessica sat to the right of Clajak, the expression on her elfin face impassive as Maf continued to argue for indictments. That alone was a sign to the public that things were not well. Clajak’s beloved mate had no problem letting councilmen know when she was displeased with them. People watched council meetings with the Imperial Clan much as a sport because of her. They loved to see their feisty little Earther empress rip apart the arguments of her opposition. That she kept herself under iron control while Maf sneered over the ‘evil intent’ of his targets, men she cared for, showed she knew her opinions would not be welcome in the present atmosphere.
Clajak did not try to fool himself about what they were on the brink of. Civil unrest waited to spring to life, urged on by untraceable transmissions from the Basma. Demonstrations were already planned. Clajak had no doubt riots could soon follow. With the angry mood of the Empire’s populace, injuries were all too expected. Maybe even deaths.
From there, it was not so difficult to imagine civil war. The Empire would be broken, torn apart in a horrid cataclysm of fury. And the Earthers who had come to Kalquor, fleeing first a government that allowed no personal freedoms and then the atrocity of Armageddon – what would happen to them?
They came here looking for happiness and security, all the wonderful things we promised. Will this snatch it away? Are we all doomed after everything we and they have done to survive?
Equal measures of cheers and heckling came from the public gallery as councilmen rose from their seats to challenge Maf’s accusations. Clajak glanced up at those who he led, those it was the Imperial Clan’s job to guide, protect, and care for. Were the two sides as evenly balanced throughout the Empire? Was this small sampling representative of the division of Kalquor?
More and more councilmen rose to their feet to argue with each other. Clajak noted one man who kept quiet however; Councilman Diltan. The man watched the proceedings, his handsome face despondent. No doubt he brooded over how it was he who had brought all this ugliness to light.
Clajak didn’t blame Diltan for the mess, however. That responsibility lay with others. The proof of wrongdoing, particularly by Zarl and Yuder, could not be denied. Diltan had done what he was supposed to. He had acted with unfailing honor on the matter, as well as circumspection.
Clajak had little to console himself with, so he clung to the nuggets of brightness that he could find. Diltan was one of these small bits. The usually ambitious councilman had been working with Jessica on the one mote of hope they had of keeping the Empire from ripping itself apart. Once something of an irritating sycophant, Diltan had emerged as the staunchest ally to the Empire’s survival.
Dramok Maf however ... Clajak’s gaze narrowed as he took in the bent form of the man shouting down all the rest. Maf had seemingly made it his life’s mission to destroy their home’s peace. It was Maf who trotted out the evidence with disgusting glee. It was Maf who shouted for justice no matter the price. On and on he went, ramping up the rhetoric. He cried for truth, but his arguments were for nothing less than revolt. Despite his devastated body, twisted from birth, Clajak had never seen Maf as ugly. However the man’s revealed fanaticism was pure vileness.
It took all of Clajak’s determined self control to not let his lips curl at Maf’s continued diatribe. “...and now the Galactic Council of Planets has renewed its call on us to reveal the truth of these horrid crimes against Earth. Our reputation as a realm of justice has been called into question by the other worlds. We no longer have a choice. We must bow our proud heads. We must accept that our leaders have defamed our glorious legacy. We must give them the satisfaction of seeing us fall to our knees in shame. Even though our name be tarnished, we cannot fail to do what is right. We must avenge the deaths of billions of Earthers, killed by our own monarchy! We must have justice for the loss of our birthright by the forced interbreeding with a lesser species!”
His eyes were hectic with victory, his face flushed as he looked around. He seemed pleased as shouts for and against his words erupted anew. The widening rift of his people seemed a cause for joy, a thought that sickened Clajak.
The man had held the floor long enough, Clajak decided. The Dramok Emperor stood up tall, as if his soul didn’t feel beaten down by all that must come. His clan stood with him, just as straight, just as silent.
It took a few moments for everyone to notice. The screaming lessened bit by bit, blowing itself out until there was silence. All eyes were on the Imperial Clan. Clajak sensed the Empire waiting with held breath, frightened but eager to know what came next
Clajak let that silence spin out for a few moments before he spoke. He drew a deep breath to keep his voice steady. Like Jessica, he could not give in to an emotional response, not when so much weighed on his every motion, his every word.
His voice echoed in the vast chamber. “That we would bring the three accused men before the Galactic Council is beside the point for the purposes of this vote. We will concentrate for now on our own laws and justice. Nothing else at this time matters.
“The Royal Council has heard and reviewed the evidence against Imperial Father Nobek Yuder of Clan Zarl, as well as Dramoks Ospar and Rajhir. You will now vote on whether these men, and these three men alone, will stand trial. You will do so based on the evidence before you.” His intent gaze swept over the blue-robed men of the council. “I remind you all that this is no matter for sentimentality. Make no mistake; the Empire is watching and will judge you for your actions this day. Our people will voice their opinion on your conduct and hold you accountable. Let it be done.”
The Imperial Clan remained on their feet as the councilmen hunched over the handhelds that would record their votes. Clajak was not surprised to see the numbers for Yes and No on the overhead vids count up slowly and evenly balanced.
Little by little, the results tallied. The gallery muttered and calls rose as first one side gained advantage and then the other. It was going to be close, Clajak realized.
His feelings on the matter were mixed. Rajhir was a good man. Ospar had a history of being somewhat underhanded in his dealings, but his goa
l was always for the good of the Empire. And the thought of his own father Yuder standing before a panel of judges ... dread dropped like a stone in Clajak’s stomach. He did not want to see any of them harmed. It was unthinkable.
Yet if they did not stand trial, all hell would break loose. Clajak knew it for a fact. Men he cared about and their clans must face potential disaster in order for Kalquor to survive. There was no other way. That meant if the council did not vote to indict, Clajak and his clanmates must overrule. He would be forced to call for trial himself.
The knot in his stomach eased only a little as the vote for indictment gained ground. He would not have to call for his father’s prosecution. It wasn’t much to be spared from, but he grasped it as he did all the other little pieces of light in the growing darkness.
At last the final vote was counted. Clajak bowed to the cluster of blue-robed men before him.
“The Royal Council has made the difficult decision. You have affirmed that there is no honor without truth. There is no Empire without truth. We must have the truth, no matter how ugly its face may be. Nobek Yuder, Dramok Rajhir, and Dramok Ospar will stand trial. The Legal Committee will take charge of the case from this moment. This council is adjourned.”
Shouts and arguments renewed both on the council floor and in the gallery. A small contingent of Global Security officers entered the chamber to assist the Royal Guards should violence break out.
Clajak didn’t wait to find out if fists would start flying. With Egilka leading and Bevau watching over their clan with fangs and a knife ready, Clajak gathered Jessica to his side. They left the mayhem under heavy guard.
* * * *
Wal was in the middle of researching case precedent over ongoing litigation when the sound he’d dreaded went off: his door announce. He straightened in his hover chair and bookmarked the document before closing it. He licked his suddenly dry lips.
“Yes?”
The voice that spoke was the one he’d feared hearing. “It’s Onziv, Wal.”
Alien Indiscretions Page 35
