Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  The window vids flashed on obediently, filling her room with the first hints of early morning light. It was just before sunrise. Kalquor was still visible in the sky, it and two of its other moons hanging above the ocean’s horizon. Maf’s home was on the seashore, giving her spectacular views of Lobam’s largest ocean. Narpok had no interest in it, however. The nearby landing pad had a familiar figure striding towards it and the shuttle that waited there. Sitrel was on his way somewhere.

  “Vids, lock locations.” Narpok watched Sitrel board his craft. Its lights came on, beacons of color in the still dim light. After a couple of minutes, it rose from the pad and took off, flying inland. She’d pretended to feel sick the night before for no reason then. Sneaking out without his knowledge would not be a problem.

  Directing the vids, Narpok tracked the direction Sitrel took until the shuttle’s lights disappeared from sight. Then she grabbed the blouse and cropped pants she’d chosen the night before.

  Once dressed, she unlocked a compartment of one of her new travel bins. She took out a frequency disruptor, a tool that had belonged to her Nobek father. It was one of the items she’d claimed from her parents’ home left to her in the wake of Pwaldur’s death. She’d had the notion it might come in handy. Maybe she’d get to use it today.

  She grinned to herself, thinking of the hissy fit she’d thrown following her shopping trip, demanding Sitrel let her visit her old home to claim a few sentimental items. He’d been right to think authorities might be keeping an eye on the place, in the hopes she’d turn up there. She railed against the logic, however, going into a towering rage so loud and violent that he’d given in.

  “Fine! If you want to go get your stupid self caught and thrown back in your padded cell at the hospital, be my guest!” he’d shouted at her. “I’m well rid of you, you spoiled brat!”

  But no one had been there. The locked home had recognized her as one of its occupants after all the time that had passed. The door opened at her command, and she’d walked into not so much a home, but a forgotten tomb. Dust had turned all the fine furnishings gray. The draperies hung like tired ghosts at the sealed archways which had once been open to a seascape far different from the one seen from Maf’s Lobam home. She’d drifted through the cliffside dwelling, a haunt from the past herself. She’d looked in her old bedroom, that place of horrors. Her nightgown was folded at the foot of her bed where the maid had left it that last morning. Her dressing table was neatly arranged, a perfume bottle and comb the only items on the tidy surface.

  She’d gone to a small chest where she’d kept mementos. Among them were many items that had belonged to her mother, a few that had been the property of her Imdiko and Nobek fathers. She’d had to dig to find the disruptor, buried deep in the chest.

  Grieving her parents after they’d died when she was fifteen – leaving Pwaldur her sole surviving parent – Narpok had gone into their private rooms and gathered any and all items she could that had belonged to them, caring not for rhyme or reason. Pwaldur had confiscated most of the things she’d taken from her father Mox’s room. Since Nobeks were grounded in the idea of being warriors and protectors, a large number of the mementos Narpok had gathered from Mox’s chambers were of a lethal nature. Yet Pwaldur had missed the disruptor and a couple other things, which Narpok had kept hidden throughout the years.

  With a fond smile for the memory of her brave parent, she slipped the palm-sized object in the wide pocket of her pants that hung loose around her thighs. With the hem of the blouse untucked, the flat, rectangular-shaped frequency disrupter was barely noticeable.

  A pair of sturdy ankle boots completed her outfit. She was as ready for the next step in reclaiming her life as she was going to get. Narpok pulled the furniture from in front of the suite’s door, opened it, and peeked out. There was no sound from within the house. The staff had not yet arrived for the day.

  Narpok left the sprawling dwelling without running into anyone. Seeing Sitrel leaving early, she’d changed her plans on the fly. She hurried inland, eager to be as far away from the beach house as possible before the staff showed up. Fortunately, the sandy drifts that had blew in from the windy beach soon gave way to packed soil, and her aching calves rejoiced in not having to slog through the dunes. Scrub dotted the landscape beneath the lightening sky up to the tree line that took over half a mile from Maf’s vacation home.

  Narpok thought the trees closest to the beach resembled Maf. The fierce ocean winds had warped them, making them strangely twisted. Their branches reached away from the sea, as if trying to flee the brutal elements. The tops of them had few leaves, their attempts to grow foliage snatched away to leave the limbs like skeletal fingers.

  While the day before had been hot, the cool of night persisted for now. Narpok shivered in her cropped pants and short-sleeved shirt as she trudged through the woods. The shade seemed to have trapped the night’s chill, leaving chills bumps on her skin.

  After a few minutes, she chanced upon the bare suggestion of a path between the thickening trees. It wound through the woods, curving in a winding, serpentine trail. The windswept trees gave over to upright, fully leafed versions, more of them crowding what was now a forest. Sometimes the leafy canopy was so thick that little light made it down where she walked. Fortunately, the path became more clearly defined as she went. Narpok did her best to keep her senses about her. She thought she was still moving in roughly the same direction that Sitrel’s shuttle had headed.

  It turned out to be a long walk. Having watched her cousin’s shuttle disappear in the distance, that didn’t surprise Narpok. However, she had not realized the toll it would take on her. She was forced to pause half a dozen times to rest. The weakness of her body following her long convalescence made her muscles burn. At least the exertion had driven the chill from her body.

  She thought she had been walking more than an hour when she heard voices in the distance. She came to a place where two more paths joined the one she traveled. After another quarter of a mile, the trees began to thin. The voices came clearer.

  Another few steps and she saw the wooded area ended at a clearing. She crept closer, wondering if there were any detection devices guarding whatever the place was. It might be nothing of note, a place she could walk into bold as brass with no questions asked. There had been a trail leading right to the clearing, after all. Since she was looking for proof that Maf was the Basma, she thought it best to spy first and announce herself later.

  Nearer to the clearing and voices, she finally got a clear view of Sitrel’s shuttle, along with a smaller one next to it. A surge of triumph canceled some of the fatigue she felt from her long walk and the dread of knowing she would have to make the return journey as well.

  She frowned at the sight of containment poles on the other side of the shuttles. She thought they were military grade, the kind of barrier meant to keep prisoners of war in temporary confinement. Or maybe government level, as used in real prison camps? Was this perhaps where the little princess was being kept?

  She skirted around the area through the trees, hoping to get a better view of who might be held prisoner in such an out-of-the-way place. The shuttles fell behind, but she still saw nothing but more containment poles. She was off the path now, wincing as branches from the underbrush snagged against her bare shins and calves. The sound of voices grew louder.

  A temporary shelter came into view, huddled in the middle of the containment which she could finally see through a break in the trees. When a Nobek in a ground troop uniform and armed with a blaster stalked alongside the containment area, Narpok crouched close to the ground to avoid being seen. Unfortunately, that put her gaze below sight level. All she could see were the bushes between her and the clearing.

  At least the cropped pants covered her knees. She crawled forward, keeping as low as she could. Her hands seemed to find every twig and pebble capable of scratching them as she went. She scowled and kept going.

  A part of her said she was being stup
id. She should go back to Maf’s beach house, com the twisted bastard, and ask him flat out if he was the Basma. Or better yet, she should return to her safe, sheltered hospital where she got to talk with the kind Dr. Govi and sit in the cliff-top gardens. She’d always been a pampered, indulged girl. Who was she kidding, thinking she could charm her way into the Basma’s inner circle? That he might take her seriously as a member of his revolution?

  She found a small break in the foliage, one through which she got a clear view of the clearing and containment area. She halted and gaped at what she saw.

  Within the packed-dirt yard of the containment were filthy, thin Earther women wearing rags that could no longer be qualified as clothing. Their gaunt faces were drawn beneath matted snarls of hair, the eyes as lifeless as those of a doll’s. Some picked unidentifiable bits from a hollowed-out log, bits they pushed into their mouths and swallowed. Narpok thought they looked bruised, but it was hard to tell from all the dirt that coated them. She’d never seen a more wretched bunch. Some wandered into the shelter, a few more wandered out. How many of them were there?

  Voices approached, getting louder. Narpok ducked down, her chin touching the ground, her nose almost there too. She rolled her eyes up to watch as Sitrel and an armed Nobek soldier walked between her and the compound.

  Sitrel’s tone was smug. “Don’t worry. Once the real combat starts, the Basma will send the order to close this place down. You will get your chance to fight.”

  The soldier tossed a look at the broken Earthers. “I don’t suppose I can keep any of these to play with, huh?”

  “We are fighting for a pure Empire. Enjoy them for now, but dispose of them as soon as word comes. They don’t look like they’ll last much longer anyway.” His chuckle was the coldest thing Narpok had heard since coming to her senses.

  Sitrel wasn’t as toady as she’d thought if he could take pleasure in the impending deaths of such demolished creatures. His sneer as he looked at the women had no pity for their condition whatsoever.

  He turned back to the Nobek and scowled at nothing in particular. “Once I finish my business here and return to Kalquor, it will begin. The trade to get the princess back from Falinset will happen today. If not, we’ll forcibly take her back tomorrow.”

  Narpok’s heart nearly stopped. She’d been right about the hair. It did belong to Princess Noelle, and Clan Falinset had her!

  Sitrel continued to talk. “Using the hybrid abomination to distract the Empire, we’ll have our forces in place before the ground forces and fleet know what’s coming. The war for the fate of Kalquor is a week away at the most. Our leader has almost everything prepared.”

  The Nobek grinned, his sharp face greedy at the thought of battle. “I look forward to it. I live to serve the Basma.”

  They wandered on, their conversation fading away. That was fine with Narpok. She’d seen and heard enough.

  She picked her careful way back to the path. She was still exhausted and had to rest several times again on her way back to the beach house, but what she’d come across seemed to lend her energy. She made better time on the return. The sun was hanging a quarter of the way up in the sky by the time she reached the area of twisted trees.

  She plotted her next move as she went. First and foremost, she needed some stim tabs. Her body didn’t want to keep moving, but there was much to get done. She could spare enough time to catch her breath, but that was all.

  Her legs cramped as if to protest her disinterest in giving her body a respite. She snorted at the weakness. I can rest when I’m dead, she thought grimly. She’d once heard Empress Jessica sigh those words. Destiny waited on no one, least of all weak-minded Mataras who crumbled at the first sign of trouble. Narpok refused to be that woman again.

  She reached the first of the long dunes and paused before tackling the soft, traction-defying sand, the last hurdle before reaching the beach house. One dune at a time, she negotiated with her trembling body. There were three she had to traverse, and this one was the tallest. Once over it, the rest would be easy, she lied to herself.

  As she silently coaxed herself to climb the dune, a snide voice spoke behind her. “Did you enjoy your tour of the Earther camp, Matara Narpok?”

  She whirled around to find Nobek Ket behind her, his smile a sneer on his handsome but vicious face. The trembling that had almost departed her legs came back in full force.

  Damn the Nobeks and their silent way of sneaking up on people! Of all the breeds, she despised Ket’s most of all.

  She drew herself up, assuming the haughty demeanor she was known for. She stiffened her spine, pretending she had nothing to fear from the brute before her. Pretending she wasn’t in a lot of trouble. Pretending she wasn't experiencing a vision of being locked in the Basma’s compound with the Earther women, waiting to be raped and killed alongside them.

  She looked Ket up and down, as if to evaluate him. She’d figured out the day before that the man had an inflated impression of himself. Looking him over seemed the best way to disarm someone like him, and she was pleased to see her examination worked.

  He puffed his chest and clenched his fists to make the muscles of his arms stand out more. He was so obvious in his attempt to impress her. After crawling about on the forest floor and exhausting herself getting to Maf’s secret camp and back, Narpok couldn’t imagine why he’d want to do such a thing. She’d not been the height of fashion in her crop pants and casual blouse to begin with; by now she had to be an absolute disaster. She gave him attitude just the same. It was that or give in to the urge to laugh at him showing off.

  In a tone that suggested a little interest she said, “My tour? Well, I suppose the scenery might be improving right now.” Let the preening bastard think she liked his looks.

  She’d been caught spying, so she decided to act like she’d had every right to do so. “Are you in charge of the abducted Earther women? The Basma trusts you with that responsibility?”

  As she thought he would, Ket was all too ready to brag on himself. He didn’t try for one second to pretend the camp didn’t belong to the Basma, nor that he worked for the rebel leader. “I am one of his most loyal followers. In fact, I would be his right hand man if Sitrel hadn’t gotten there first.”

  Not likely, Narpok thought. From what she’d seen, Ket was a hothead and dumb as a bag of rocks. Plus he smelled of liquor. She pretended to be impressed anyway … as well as avaricious. “Really? How are you rewarded for such loyalty?”

  He shrugged with fake modesty. “Oh, with expensive gifts. The Basma is generous to his leaders.”

  Narpok filled her tone with greed. “Gifts? Like what?”

  “I have one of those mini-shuttles, the new ones that are space worthy.”

  That must have been the little insect of a vehicle parked next to Sitrel’s at the compound. He was proud of that? Narpok sniffed. “Mini-shuttle? I like the luxury shuttles with a sleeping room and bath facilities. You know, the kind you can go for an extended pleasure voyage in.”

  The way she enunciated ‘pleasure’ was on purpose. The thought of such activities made her stomach turn, however, particularly in connection with Ket. I’d just as soon bed a Tragoom, she thought, swallowing a sudden rush of nausea.

  “It’s a wonderful little vehicle,” Ket assured her. “For short hops between Kalquor and Lobam, you can’t beat those little zappers for speed. I have one of the first ones manufactured. You should let me take you for a ride so you can see how fast it goes. Only military fighters can catch it.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s nice for you.” She looked away, giving the impression she was growing bored with the conversation. Her attitude pushed Ket to pile on the glamour he perceived surrounded his relationship with the Basma.

  “My ship is also one of the few that can leave the moon without being challenged. Everyone else on Lobam has to be confirmed loyal to the Basma or they can’t leave. But I can. I have full freedom to come and go as I please.”

  She swung in
the direction of interest again, not wanting to discourage him too much. “I guess you are an important man to Dramok Maf then. He doesn’t trust lightly, does he?”

  “Only a very few of us,” Ket confirmed. “I should think he would know who is most loyal.”

  Once again, someone admitted that Maf was indeed the Basma. Even though Narpok’s heart drummed to hear him admit it, Ket’s mood was taking a dark turn. He looked ill-tempered all of the sudden.

  With gentle concern Narpok asked, “What? Has he said something to make you doubt your status with him?”

  Ket considered her a moment before shaking his head. “It’s nothing he’s said. It’s just he should have sent you to me instead of Falinset. You should be my Matara.”

  Her stomach churned queasily again. Hoping she hadn’t turned as green as she felt, Narpok asked, “Are you clanned?”

  “No, but that won’t matter in the future Kalquor. Why bother with clans when we’re as good as extinct already?” He suddenly smiled at her, giving off a dash of charm. It would have gone nicely with his good looks if he hadn’t shown his true colors already.

  Narpok smiled back, pretending to find his comments deserving attention. “I can see your point. If Dramok Maf’s cause succeeds, many of the old, outdated ways will be done away with. But we only met yesterday, Nobek. How can you be sure we’re compatible?”

  Ket sniffed. “I don’t care that you can’t have my children. There aren’t any women left who can anyway. Besides, I would make you a good clanmate. Not to brag, but I’ve been told I’m a good looking man.”

  Please don’t let me gag, Narpok thought, hoping the ancestors could hear her thoughts. To Ket she said, “So you are. And a good provider? When my councilman father lived, I was used to a certain lifestyle, you know.”

  “Maf will see to our prosperity. Haven’t you heard what I’ve said about how he esteems me?” Ket barked a laugh. “In all ways, I am better than Falinset and his pathetic pair of fools.”