Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  Noelle’s tracker sent no signal for the searchers to follow. Though it seemed impossible, some speculated she had somehow been taken off the planet. Every ship known to have left Kalquor’s space was tracked down and investigated. None were found to have any evidence she’d been brought on board. With that avenue exhausted, search efforts concentrated on Kalquor. The company that had manufactured the princess’ tracking device had all its operations suspended as it was investigated. The owner and his board were hauled into Global Security’s offices to face endless hours of interrogation. Even the doctor who had implanted the device, a man who had always been believed to be above all reproof, was subjected to interrogation. Dr. Flencik was the clanmate to the head of the capital city’s branch of Global Security, but that did not spare him days of questions under truth-telling compounds.

  The Galactic Council’s member planets offered manpower and resources to help find the missing child and her cousin. Even Bi’is, long an antagonist to Kalquor, sent overtures of aid. Every resource was employed to chase down sightings and rumors in hopes of finding the abductees.

  Yet two days slipped by with no evidence and no sign of how they had been taken or where. Princess Noelle and Natasha Salter had disappeared without a trace.

  * * * *

  Empress Jessica entered a patient’s room in the hospital’s Matara psychiatric unit. She left the four Global Security officers guarding her in the hall after they peered inside the room and stationed themselves around the door that snicked shut behind her.

  Jessica looked around the patient’s room, much as she looked at every area she entered now. Even in the most unlikely places she couldn’t keep from searching, searching, searching. Her gaze begged for a sign, a remote hope that her daughter would suddenly appear and everything would be all right.

  However the room, one she’d visited regularly for the past five years, was the same as ever. The smell of antiseptic cleanliness was as familiar to Jessica as her own perfume. The walls were softly padded to keep their lone occupant from hurting herself should she suffer one of her infrequent impulses to fling herself against their surfaces. That hadn’t happened in so long that the doctors considered putting the longtime resident in a regular room.

  The sleeping mat was the one piece of furniture in the space. It had the softest of linens, brought in by Jessica herself. The window vids were tuned to the nearby seascape, bringing bright sunlight into the room. An art vid automatically switched to a new masterpiece to be enjoyed every couple of hours.

  Otherwise, it was an empty place. As empty as the blue-purple eyes of Matara Narpok, the woman who had lived in this tiny room for the last few years.

  Narpok had fled the real world with all its horrors, overcome by the trauma of being sexually victimized. How long she’d endured the torture by a clan of traitors – men aided by her own Dramok father – no one knew. Robbed of all sense and speech, Narpok couldn’t tell them.

  Only once in a great while did Narpok exhibit signs of any real life. Usually it happened when male orderlies were around. She would somehow become aware of their presence and scream, an awful lost sound coming from vocal chords raspy from long disuse. Like the episodes of driving her almost six-and-a-half-foot frame against the walls, the instances of shrieking had not happened in a long time. Once Narpok’s therapist Govi had figured out she reacted to men similar in looks to her former assailants, he’d vetted her orderlies for appearance.

  Narpok sat on her sleeping mat as she always did. Her long black hair hung lifeless to her waist. Her skin looked dull. Her face, just as lifeless, wore a slack expression. She was still a large Amazon of a woman, about eight inches taller than Jessica. She didn’t seem strong for all her size, however. Narpok had lost weight during her long convalescence. While still muscled because of the natural Kalquorian predisposition for bulk, Narpok looked wasted and sickly.

  She stared at nothing, uncaring of the world that had gone on without her for five years. Unaware. Jessica stared at her former rival for Clan Clajak, feeling a moment of envy.

  What the empress wouldn’t do to forget the last few days. She thought she would gladly trade places with Narpok and forget that her world teetered on ruin.

  Jessica had spent the time since Noelle’s disappearance going through the motions of ruling and caring for things beyond the sudden loss of her daughter. She kept moving because if she didn’t, she would end up like Narpok. Jessica had never known such terror. When the Basma took Noelle, he’d ripped a portion of her heart out. Every moment felt like dying, made worse because she never realized the relief of death. Instead fear and grief mounted, fed by every second that passed without knowing if Noelle was healthy, if she was even alive.

  Where is my baby? Is she okay? Is Tasha all right and taking care of her, or is Noelle alone among enemies?

  Tasha’s disappearance ate at Jessica too. For one thing, she adored her cousin. They had been friends for as far back as Jessica could remember. For them to have parted right after Jessica had chastised her filled her with guilt.

  Jessica could only fend off the horror of the situation by continually moving. She asked for updates on the search every hour. She checked the news vids for any reports. She constantly commed Nobek Raxstad, a close family friend in Global Security. She contacted her searching clanmates begging for information. Jessica did everything but jump in her shuttle and wander from home to home to ask if anyone had seen anything, anything at all.

  Jessica didn’t dare stop for fear that the true awfulness of the situation would crash down and crush her. She couldn’t even sleep because who knew what nightmares would assault her? She felt guilt when the stim tabs she took wore off, allowing her to feel exhaustion. How could she think of sleep when her daughter was missing? She had to find Noelle. There had to be some way of locating her baby.

  Yet Jessica knew everything that could be done was already in motion. Empress or not, her continuous begging for information helped no one. The helplessness to do anything wore on her, and so she did whatever she could to pretend she made a difference.

  One such task was making her regular visit to Narpok. Jessica had hoped to find some sense in normalcy, so she’d decided to perform a duty she did several days a week. Standing in the patient’s room now, that hope faded fast. She moved across the soft padded floor and sat down next to the blank-eyed woman anyway.

  “Hello, Narpok.”

  Jessica’s voice sounded hollow, without hope. No, she couldn’t give up. The Basma would not harm Noelle. He had to know it would turn all but his most ardent followers from his cause. She must not give any outward hint of how lost she felt.

  Jessica floundered for something to say to her silent companion. Usually she told Narpok all the latest goings on in her personal life, as well as the current most talked-about topics in the Empire. Jessica would talk for an hour with no hint from the sad soul she spoke to that anything was heard. She had shared her thoughts about the rebellion, her fears when Wayne went off to training camp, the ideas she had for bettering conditions for the people of Kalquor. Sometimes she brought Noelle to play at Narpok’s bare feet.

  Remembering the many times she’d brought her daughter with her as she’d tried to coax Narpok to rejoin the world brought a choking sensation to Jessica’s throat. What was she doing here? Why was she visiting with a woman who didn’t care whether Jessica showed up or not? She should be in the emergency command center with Clajak and Egilka looking over reports as they came in. She should be sitting with Wayne to make sure no one got to him too. She should be out there, looking for Noelle in every corner of the Empire.

  The horror came back, its black tide drowning Jessica. Her baby was gone without a trace. Noelle was gone.

  A scream welled in her throat. Jessica had fought it off innumerable times before, but it always came back, each time stronger than ever. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it from being voiced this time. It shoved its way up, and her mouth opened wide to unleash it.r />
  Instead of the soul-rending shriek she expected, the cry of a dying animal moaned from deep in her gut. It was an ugly sound, the sound of a damned soul with no hope of redemption. With it came a torrent of tears, gushing in a flood from Jessica’s eyes.

  The awful moan that wouldn’t end formed words, words Jessica wasn’t consciously aware of speaking. Yet she heard them and knew they were hers, pouring a litany of unfathomable anguish.

  “My baby. The Basma took my baby. I can’t find her anywhere. Where is my baby? Where is my Noelle? Noelle! Noelle!”

  The words ended as abruptly as they had come, cut off by the massive seizure of grief that contracted Jessica’s stomach. She bent double as the moan resumed, interrupted by harsh sobs that ejected from her wide-yawning mouth.

  Jessica cried and cried, the pain too vast to be denied any longer. How long she barked the sounds of agony she didn’t know. She wasn’t aware when the arm of another wrapped around her shaking shoulders. Realization that someone held her and stroked through her hair with a gentle touch came by slow degrees.

  When Jessica finally became conscious of the comforting trailing of fingers through her chestnut hair, she blinked away the tears blurring her vision. Her guts eased their violent contraction enough for her to straighten and face the person showing her such compassion.

  She looked up, stunned to see her kind attendant was the long-silent Narpok. Narpok, who gazed at her with wide eyes. Eyes filled with anger and pain.

  Chapter 7

  When not on duty at the district’s fire prevention office, Wekniz enjoyed being in the company of his clan. Years ago he and Nur had been gregarious men, out among friends and enjoying themselves at clubs and parties. They still had some social contacts through their jobs, but for the most part theirs was a lonely existence. The isolation was necessary to be kept out of Maf’s crosshairs as much as possible.

  Falinset had already started separating himself from society by the time Wekniz had met him. Shamed by the truth of his parentage and trying to protect himself from his biological father’s machinations, the strong-jawed Dramok lived in fear of Maf finding out too much about his life. Maf, respected by those outside his realm of poisonous influence, was not to be given any information if possible. He wielded others’ dirty secrets as lethally as a Nobek used a blade.

  Keeping themselves secluded was not easy, but it had to be done. Wekniz missed the friends he’d had on Kalquor. It was hard to not accept social invitations from his co-workers. The Nobek acknowledged he had little choice in the matter, but the loneliness was still hard to take.

  Once in a while, he did require being alone. Visits from certain people sent Wekniz out into the woods to walk and process impotent anger and occasionally kill something to spend that anger.

  Falinset’s mother Feyom was one of those who upset Wekniz. She’d visited their home for the second time in a week, dropping more hints that Falinset needed to bond with Maf. It ended with mother and son screaming at each other, mutual hatred pouring from their mouths like poison. It was Feyom’s odious presence that sent Wekniz out into the woods that night, stalking among the trees as he tried to rid himself of fury.

  Falinset had gone quiet after her uninvited stop at their home. He shut down as he had so many times before, becoming remote as he dealt with his personal demons. Seeing his clanmate remote and hurting was another reason Wekniz had needed to escape the home.

  Clan protector. Ha. Wekniz had never been able to protect anyone from Maf and his lackeys. He was a joke.

  Falinset needed the protection too. The Nobek thought that if any of his clan was a victim, it was his Dramok. He had the worst set of parents in that they were both calculating monsters. Falinset was further persecuted by the wrongs Wekniz and Nur’s parents had committed, wrongs that had made them Maf’s pawns. It was for his Nobek and Imdiko that Falinset put up with what he did from his mother and father. For his clanmates’ honor and peace of mind, he hid and kept them hidden with him.

  At one time, Wekniz had been shamed but willing to do anything to keep his parents’ wrongdoings quiet. He was a loyal son, and for that reason he clanned with the son of the man who callously dictated their lives. Even knowing his parents were guilty of tremendous crimes had not shaken his devotion to his mother and fathers. Still, clanning with the son of Maf had been a bitter pill for Wekniz to swallow. It was that or see his parent clan exposed and sent to prison.

  At least Maf had done Wekniz that one favor. At first the Nobek had resented Falinset for Maf’s interference. He’d outright hated Falinset in fact, as had Nur. Yet once he knew the man his Dramok was, Wekniz had forged the lifelong bond that was the sole good thing to come out of Maf’s meddling.

  As the years passed, Wekniz’s loyalties had switched firmly to his Dramok and Imdiko. He thought about the last few times he’d spoken to his parent clan. They no longer repented of their greed. These days Maf paid them well to keep bringing him company secrets; technological breakthroughs that any number of competing security and defense companies or enemies of the Empire would pay vast fortunes to get hold of. Wekniz’s parents’ consciences had been bought by Maf, and they willingly committed corporate espionage. He no longer forced them into it with threats of turning them in.

  Wekniz was certain he’d be willing to let his parent clan fall to the authorities now. He thought he could live with the dishonor if they were caught. Hell, he’d been tempted more than once to turn them in himself.

  But like Falinset, the Nobek was trapped by another clanmate’s situation. Nur’s parents were not greedy louts like Wekniz’s. They were not manipulative shits like Falinset’s. They were victims of circumstance, their decisions made from desperation and love. Maf had them under his thumb, and so he had Clan Falinset at his mercy as well.

  It was a wonder Falinset hadn’t walked into the nearby sea and drowned himself. Falinset despised people as a rule. He was suspicious of others, cynical of their motives. He wanted nothing to do with anyone outside his clan. For all that, Wekniz thought he was still a good man. A man who deserved so much more than what life had given him.

  Wekniz punched a tree and kept walking, enjoying the pain throbbing in his knuckles. He’d hurt himself more than the tree, but it distracted him from the helpless rage that engulfed him. He inspected the damage and licked his own blood from the torn skin. He wished it was Maf’s blood on his hands.

  The fantasy of driving his fist into the bastard’s face was interrupted by a low hum. Wekniz peered up, looking through the canopy of the trees to the black velvet sky stretching overhead.

  A shuttle passed low over the woods, slanting down to make a landing nearby. Wekniz frowned, looking at the markings on the underside, lit by its white and red indicators. He was sure it was Maf’s shuttle.

  Probably Feyom coming in from shopping in Nalta City, Wekniz mused. But why was the shuttle heading inland instead of towards Maf’s beach home on the coast? As far as the Nobek knew, Maf had not built a second home on the inland portion of his property.

  It was none of his concern. Falinset had expressly forbidden his clan to go anywhere near Maf’s property. He wanted nothing to do with his biological father, insisting they keep their distance from him as much as possible. Wekniz had never had a quarrel with that. During his walks, he gave the border between Maf’s land and Clan Falinset’s a wide berth. Unless he was called in to fight a fire on Maf’s property, he was determined to stay away from the man.

  Yet as he watched the shuttle pass through the sky, Wekniz thought about Feyom’s hint that Maf supported the Basma. What if that support was active? What if there was something inland where that shuttle headed, some bit of evidence that would give Falinset something to threaten the bastard with in return?

  The hope for such an opportunity was too much to pass up. With a grin lighting up his marred features, Wekniz darted through the woods, following the shuttle’s path.

  He maneuvered easily through the trees and underbrush, list
ening to the shuttle’s hum for guidance when he lost sight of it. Wekniz gave himself over to the thrill of the chase, though it wasn’t game he hunted this time. The Nobek didn’t actually think he’d find anything of interest. It was simply fun for him to track an enemy and spy on her without her being aware. Once he’d seen what was no doubt nothing to be excited about, he’d return home.

  It beat walking around feeling glum about life.

  Wekniz judged he’d gone nearly five miles into Maf’s property when he saw lights through the trees. They were bright and tall, the kind of free-standing lights that might stand over an outdoor sports field or landing pad. The shuttle’s engine lowered in pitch, indicating it idled. When it cut out altogether, the Nobek thought a landing pad was a pretty good guess.

  But in the middle of nowhere? Though he worked in Nalta City as a firefighting authority, Wekniz was aware of most buildings and structures in his district. As far as he knew, Maf had filed no permits for any new construction out here. It was supposedly forest left wild.

  Wekniz slowed his approach, becoming more careful as he neared the lighted area. He peered through the thinning cover of the trees, trying to see what was beyond them as he made his silent way towards the illumination.

  He was still several feet in the cover when a good view presented itself. It was a landing pad all right. Three vehicles sat on its flat, concrete surface. The hatch to Maf’s was open. Feyom had already gotten out. But where was she now?

  Wekniz crept even closer. He noted even more lights beyond the two full-sized shuttles and the smaller two-seater shuttle parked next to Maf’s. How big was this airfield anyway? Or were the distant lights for something else entirely?

  The sound of voices made the Nobek hunker low to the ground. Three people rounded the nose of Maf’s shuttle, and Wekniz’s nose wrinkled in distaste as he identified Feyom, Maf’s aide Dramok Sitrel, and Falinset’s asshole of a half-brother – Nobek Ket.