Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  At least she’d still have the occasional companionship of Commander Bifen. She’d met the blunt craggy-faced Nobek a few months ago when she’d escaped a riot by pro-Basma followers. Bifen was unclanned and had no interest in leaving the life of a bachelor. He and Tasha had struck up a friendship that included rowdy sex with no strings attached. He triggered none of Tasha’s commitment issues because commitment was nowhere on his radar.

  Tasha crooked a smile at the thought of Bifen. She thought her first act of freedom would be to climb on top of the big rogue and ride him until his cocks were sore.

  “Giddyap,” she said.

  The sound of her voice, heavy and slow, made Tasha realize the room had taken on a hazy glow. She blinked leaden eyes and her view of the room rocked. All at once she wanted to lay down and take a nap.

  As if from a great distance, she saw the toy shuttle she controlled drop from the air. Noelle crowed with delight. “You crashed! Boom!”

  Tasha tried to turn her head towards the tinny voice. She was crashing all right. The room turned sideways and the carpet beneath her feet rushed up. She watched the half-full glass of shel crash too, where it splashed and bounced in slow motion before her glazed eyes.

  She thought she must be fainting. Tasha blinked hard, trying to stay conscious as the room swam in and out of view. She was babysitting. She couldn’t black out in front of Noelle. That would be irresponsible. Jessica would never let her keep her adorable niece again.

  Things went black. Tasha could still hear Noelle calling her name. She forced her eyes open. Something was wrong here. She needed help.

  Tasha’s eyes ached to close again, but Noelle was right there, her face nose to nose with the fallen woman. At least the kid didn’t look scared. She eyed Tasha with curiosity.

  “Are you going to sleep, Tasha?”

  Tasha tried to speak. She wanted to tell Noelle to call the Royal Guards posted outside the suite. They were supposed to check on them once an hour, and one had commed Tasha to do so just minutes earlier. Noelle couldn’t be left alone for an hour.

  Somehow Tasha couldn’t remember how to open her mouth. Wasn’t that silly? Opening one’s mouth was such a simple thing. Everyone did it. Why couldn’t she?

  Her eyes closed again. Tasha was exhausted. She had to sleep.

  Noelle’s thin, piping voice spoke again. “Hello. Tasha is tired. Wake up, Tasha. Talk to the Nobek.”

  Oh good. Noelle had gone for help without being told. What a smart kid. Tasha would have to tell Jessica. Like mother, like daughter. So smart.

  Tasha summoned one last bit of energy and pried her eyelids open. A man stood over her and Noelle, looking as if he was at the end of a long tunnel. He wasn’t wearing a red armored formsuit though. Not a Royal Guard. Who was this man bending over them?

  Tasha saw him scoop Noelle up in one arm. He reached for Tasha with the other. Her arm floated upward, her wrist encased in his big hand. She couldn’t feel his grip.

  Tasha took what she thought was a long blink. When her eyes opened again, she was on the balcony outside one of the rooms of the Royal apartments. She gazed at the face of the man who had come into the nursery. She’d never seen him before. Who was he? What was he doing here? And why were they all outside?

  He held her in one arm and Noelle in the other. The starlit sky stretched deep and black over his head, a breeze lifting heavy hair as black as the night from his almost feline features.

  His lips moved. Moments later, Tasha heard his deep delayed voice, like a vid with the audio out of sync. “I am ready for pickup. Send the shuttle.”

  Tasha looked at Noelle. The little girl stared back, her expression worried and confused. Her lips moved, forming Tasha’s name.

  Something’s wrong. Really wrong. I don’t know this man. I need to get Noelle away from him.

  Yet a blackness more pronounced than the stranger’s hair, even murkier than the night sky, grabbed at her. Tasha fell into its grip, her eyes closing as the dark curtain fell over her once again.

  * * * *

  Noelle sat in the strangers’ shuttle on a bench seat. Next to her Tasha slept deeply, refusing to wake no matter how Noelle pinched and tugged and pleaded.

  The little princess tried hard to be a big girl and not cry. It was hard to swallow her tears however. She didn’t know who the big Nobek was who had appeared out of thin air in her nursery and then taken her and Tasha out to the balcony. She didn’t know who the Dramok and Kalquorian woman were on board the shuttle the Nobek had put her on. The shuttle had also appeared out of nowhere. One moment the sky had been empty, the next a shuttle hovered over the balcony.

  No one – not the Nobek who had brought her on board, the Dramok pilot, or the woman – had said where they were going. Noelle thought she knew though, and it frightened her.

  Noelle wondered what she’d done to make her parent clan send her away. She’d done her best to be a good girl after Wayne left for training camp. He’d broken a lot of things and flown into rages before he had to go away. Noelle had not done those things. Even when she got mad these days, she didn’t raise her voice or stamp a foot. She did things she knew would make her mother and fathers smile. She’d worked hard to make everyone happy.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  The Kalquorian lady with the prettily embroidered gown left the cockpit. She stood in front of Noelle, staring down at the little girl with hard eyes. She’d been looking at Noelle since ordering her to sit down. In the soft lighting of the shuttle cabin the woman had a slender, beautiful face with high arched brows. Her dark hair was filled with soft curls, much like Noelle’s Aunt Michaela. She wore a small smile on her red lips, but it still wasn’t a nice look she gave Noelle.

  The pilot had called the woman Feyom. Noelle had never met her before. She didn’t know why Matara Feyom looked her over so carefully. Between that and the hope that being a big girl would save her from being sent away, Noelle held back the tears that wanted to come.

  Feyom finally spoke. “Hello, my princess. Aren’t you a pretty little thing? You certainly don’t look half-Earther.”

  Noelle knew it would be polite to return the greeting and thank the woman for calling her pretty. Fear choked her though. She couldn’t summon proper manners, so instead pleading questions poured out. “Where are we going? Am I going to training camp?”

  Feyom stooped down so they could look eye-to-eye. Close up her face showed lines, making her look older than Noelle’s mother. Feyom was still beautiful, but her slight smile was too cruel to promise comfort. Noelle instinctively shrank away.

  Feyom smiled bigger, as if the child’s fear pleased her. “Mataras don’t go to training camp. That’s for Nobek boys.”

  Some of Noelle’s terror abated. No training camp. That was good. But she was still being taken from home, so tension remained. “Where are we going then?”

  “To a different kind of camp. A camp full of women like your mother. Like your cousin here.”

  The tears returned and this time Noelle couldn’t keep them from overflowing. A different camp. Noelle had not been good enough to stay at home with her parents. They had sent her away, like Wayne.

  Feyom chuckled and tapped Noelle’s nose with a perfectly manicured finger. “There is no reason to cry. You should be happy to be among your own wretched kind. And your cousin is going with you. What fun!”

  Noelle was quite sure it would not be fun. “I want Mommy. And my daddies.”

  She and her parents had all accompanied Wayne when he went away to camp. They had toured the camp, met the head of it and Wayne’s instructors. They’d even had a nice lunch before making lots of promises to visit soon and often and saying goodbye.

  Why weren’t they going with Noelle to camp to talk to the grownups and say all those nice things to her too?

  Feyom’s smile had faded. She looked at Noelle with distaste. “You may look Kalquorian, but you’re as weak and whiny as any Earther. Just sit here and stay quiet until we get wh
ere we’re going.”

  With that, the woman stood up straight and turned away. Her long skirts swirled with a lot of dry rustling. The sound made Noelle think of the snakes her mother told her had lived on Earth, slithering in their secret ways through dried leaves in the forest. The little girl hugged her knees to her chest to make sure the skirts wouldn’t touch her.

  Feyom glided away to the cockpit where the Dramok sat piloting the shuttle. She sank gracefully in the seat next to his. “I bet she’ll throw a tantrum. I want to put her in stasis, Sitrel.”

  His voice was quiet but Noelle heard him easily over the low hum of the shuttle. “You know that’s not possible, not with the energy drain from this phasing technology plus the signal deflectors. We’ll barely make Lobam as it is.”

  Lobam? One of Kalquor’s moons? Was that where the camp was?

  It was bad enough she was going away. She was also going a long way. Without clothes. Without toys. It seemed to Noelle that might be important. She wiped away the tears that had disgusted Feyom, not wanting to give her or Dramok Sitrel any reason to be mad at her. So far Sitrel had not done anything to worry Noelle, but she was frightened of Feyom. She thought the Kalquorian woman might yell at her. Or worse.

  Noelle took deep breaths to calm herself before sliding off the seat and approaching the cockpit. Her slippers made no sound on the thick carpet as she made her slow way to the front of the shuttle.

  When she got there, she looked at the man. His body seemed too long for the seat he occupied. He sat with his knees higher than his hips and his hands hung over the armrests. His face was broad and his eyelids hung low, as if he was sleepy. The lights on the console gave his features a greenish cast, making a sickly contrast to the blue shirt he wore. His black hair was bound in a long braid that hung over his shoulder.

  He didn’t look mean. He didn’t look like he felt much at all. Noelle summoned her courage and spoke.

  “Excuse me, Dramok? I don’t have my clothes for camp. Not even my nightgown.”

  His head snapped around, telling Noelle she’d surprised him. She took a step back in case she’d made him mad. She was relieved when a smile touched his thick lips.

  “You don’t, huh? I guess we left in such a hurry that we forgot. We’ll find you some new things when we get there.” He looked away, the smile fading faster than it had come, dismissing her already.

  Noelle considered a moment before venturing, “Toys too?”

  Sitrel snorted. “Sure. Whatever your little heart desires, my princess.”

  His tone was easygoing, but there was a sneer under the lightness. Noelle couldn’t name that quality, but she felt it on an instinctive level. Just like Feyom, there was something not very nice about the man.

  Her certainty rose as he continued to speak. “Maybe you’d like a nice kestarsh to ride and jewelry to wear and everyone obeying every order from your lips while you’re at it?”

  Noelle blinked at Sitrel, confused that he’d say such a thing. She knew better to tell people, especially grownups, what to do.

  Wanting Sitrel to know she had good manners, Noelle told him, “I don’t order. If I need something I can’t get for myself, I ask nicely so people have their dignity.” She gave him a strained smile, hoping he’d tell her mother she knew that lesson well.

  Sitrel exchanged a startled look with Feyom. They looked at Noelle, their eyes wide. Then the pair laughed out loud.

  Noelle shrank back. The laughter wasn’t nice. It was the kind of hilarity Wayne used when he played tricks on her. It said she’d fallen for something dumb.

  Feyom slapped her armrest with delight. “Such upstanding ideals.” She leaned closer to Noelle, her eyes glittering. “I almost want to take you under my wing and teach you how a Matara can demand everything she wants and get it.”

  The Kalquorian woman sat up straight again and sighed to Sitrel. “You know, I always wanted a daughter. I had over a dozen children. All of them sons, each more ungrateful than the last.”

  “Ket’s not so bad,” Sitrel said, his unemotional state returning. “His loyalty is without doubt. We prize that above all else.”

  “It makes up for him being dumb and self-serving. And drunk.” Feyom glanced at Noelle and scowled. “Go sit back down, girl. You’ll get what you need where we’re going. Be grateful for that.”

  Cowed by the scary lady, Noelle meekly retreated to sit next to Tasha again. She wished her cousin would wake up and tell her what was going on.

  Sitrel spoke. “Speaking of sons, are you going to visit Falinset while we’re there? Maf wants to know if he can count on him in the coming months, especially since he lives so close to the compound.”

  Feyom made an impatient sound. “He’s most ungrateful of the lot. After all Maf has done for him, you’d think he’d have a little gratitude. But no, he sulks on that moon and refuses as much as Maf lets him get away with.”

  “He won’t get away with anything for much longer. He must choose. The Basma’s time is at hand. Maf wants his only child at his side.”

  Feyom was dismissive. “Then Maf should speak to him instead of expecting me to make things right. Falinset despises me for what he calls a lack of honor. Stupid fool. Honor is meaningless next to power.”

  Sitrel sighed, a satisfied sound. “Soon we will have both honor and power, and Kalquor will regain its greatness.”

  “Thanks to Princess Distraction.” Feyom turned in her seat to gaze at Noelle. The cruel smile was back, making her almost ugly.

  Noelle couldn’t bear to look at that leer. She wanted to be away from Feyom. She wanted to be back in her nursery and sleeping on her mat. She wanted to be there when Mommy came in at morning’s first light with smiles and kisses for her.

  But Mommy and Noelle’s fathers had sent her away. She didn’t know if she’d even be allowed to visit home like Wayne did.

  Noelle lay down next to Tasha, the one meager bit of comfort left to her. She snuggled close to her cousin, burying her face against Tasha’s shoulder. The tears came back and Noelle let them fall silently into the folds of Tasha’s blouse.

  Chapter 4

  Awareness swam in just as consciousness had swum out. The first thing Tasha was aware of was forcing her grainy eyes open. An anxious little face framed with silvery-steel waves of hair hovered overhead. Purple eyes swimming with tears peered down at her.

  In a voice hoarse from crying, Noelle spoke. “Tasha? Are you awake?” Then excitedly, “I think she’s waking up!”

  An unfamiliar voice, feminine and soothing came next. “Move back, angel. Let’s get some water into her.”

  At the word ‘water’, Tasha felt how her mouth seemed to be made of cotton. As arms slid beneath her shoulders and back, she opened her mouth and tried to speak. A wheezing croak was all that escaped.

  Noelle receded, and Tasha tried to get her leaden arms to move, to grab the little girl before the strange Nobek took her away again. A moment later she realized that Noelle had moved back of her own accord, allowing room for the supportive arms to lift Tasha into a seated position.

  Tasha had the brief impression of several faces surrounding her before a cup pressed to her lips. She made another sound, this one desperate and rattling. Her mouth and throat were arid. She gulped down the warm liquid that poured into her mouth. She wrinkled her nose at the temperature as well as the gritty, flat-tasting water, but she was too thirsty to stop drinking.

  The voice that had spoken to Noelle came again. It was accented with a thick twang that made Tasha think of grits and fried chicken. “Yeah, it’s a little dirty but we boiled it as clean as we could. It won’t make you sick.”

  Tasha downed the entire cup and then a second one that appeared as soon as the first was drained. Her body and mind came back to life with the refreshment. The heavy mists cleared from her brain.

  She sat on a crude wooden pallet, putting her inches above a dirt floor. She realized she was in a room of some sort, dim and shadowed. The walls were dull gray
and featureless. The only light came from a rectangular doorway. Tasha squinted. It was sunlight coming through the door, not light from another room. More crude pallets, looking hastily assembled from spare pieces of lumber, littered the room at regular intervals. A couple of equally crude tables, listing unsteadily at funhouse angles, also furnished the space.

  She saw these details between the bodies standing in a loose semi-circle around her. Tasha blinked at the drawn faces of many women, at least a dozen. No, more than that. They all wore torn clothing, some little more than filthy rags. Several looked like they hadn’t eaten well in a long time.

  Two women sat on either side of her. It was these two who propped Tasha up as she got her bearings. The odor coming from them was sweetish-sour, the smell of bodies gone unwashed for some time. The blonde on her left, her too-thin face still hinting at the beauty she must have once been, held the cup Tasha had drunk from. The woman on her left still had some meat on her bones, though her auburn hair framed a wan face. Something about her tugged at Tasha’s memory, but she couldn’t think where she’d seen this woman before. As a matter of fact, there were a couple other faces that seemed slightly familiar to her.

  Tasha’s voice sounded thick, but recognizable as her own. “Where am I?”

  Noelle huddled on the pallet next to Tasha’s knees. She answered, “They sent us to camp, but not a nice one. No nightgowns or toys or even real beds.”

  The little girl burst into tears and sprang forward to bury her face against Tasha’s breast. Tasha hugged her close.

  It was the blonde holding her up who answered in that thick country accent. “Welcome to Hell, Natasha Salter. ‘Cause that’s where you are.” She jerked her head towards the other woman offering support. “Amy here recognized you as the cousin of the empress. And of course there’s no mistaking the hair on this little gal.” She stroked Noelle’s head with a tired smile. “The Basma finally snagged himself a couple of the royals. He must be full of himself right now.”