Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  “But Falinset is Maf’s son. The Basma’s son,” Narpok pointed out.

  Ket glowered again. “He rejects his father at every turn. That he didn’t offer you an immediate clanship yesterday is another proof of his unworthiness. Believe me, Maf is furious about it.”

  “Ah, so it wasn’t my lack of charm that prevented Falinset from making me his clan Matara?”

  Ket waved his hand dismissively. “Of course not. You could be beautiful again once you finish recovering from going insane. Someone a man would be proud to call his. More importantly, you are pure Kalquorian.” He shook his head, as if dumbfounded by Falinset’s actions. “He is being his usual whiny self. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “And you do?” She pretended his comment that she might be worth being proud of in the future didn’t sting.

  Ket chuckled knowingly. “You would like me to prove myself, wouldn’t you? You are perfection even as you are now, Matara Narpok. So much better than those small, pathetic little Earthers. A real woman.”

  His hand lifted to let his fingers trail through her hair. Narpok managed not to shy back or slap his hand away. Barely.

  Ket moved close to murmur in an intimate voice. “I’d be glad to prove my worth to you. In many ways.” His hand moved down her back, curving over her ass with an air of propriety.

  Terror burst through Narpok, but she maintained her composure. He would not do anything to her, not while Maf still hoped Falinset might want her. He wouldn’t dare.

  With only that to shore her crumbling courage, Narpok said, “First, you’ll have to convince Dramok Maf you rate me. He has expectations of me charming Clan Falinset, which I must try to fulfill. At least, until you change his mind.”

  Ket’s eyes lit up. He gave her buttocks a squeeze. “You won’t try too hard to win them, will you my girl?”

  Seeing not him but the leering faces from her past, Narpok somehow dredged up a smile that promised everything and nothing. She pulled away, getting space between them so Ket couldn’t touch her anymore. She began to back up the dune, feeling the sand slipping away beneath her feet but making her ascent nonetheless.

  She sounded breathless, but maybe he’d attribute it to rising passion and not horror. “I will see you later, Nobek Ket.”

  He smirked, but he let her go. “Yes, you will.”

  Narpok turned. She managed to not run up the slippery dune, though her yammering thoughts demanded it of her weary body. She gained the summit and kept going. Ket did not insist on escorting her, an immeasurable relief.

  At the bottom of the first dune, with no sign of Ket following her, she stopped to catch her breath. Little by little, her heart stopped its relentless hammering, as if it would fly from her to escape her unwanted suitor. After five minutes, she thought she was ready to attempt the second, shortest dune.

  With the awful Nobek gone, Narpok was able to consider her next move. Before she’d seen Sitrel leave this morning, spurring her to follow him, she’d planned to try to investigate Clan Falinset’s home. Knowing she’d not been foolish to think Princess Noelle was there after all, she was more determined than ever to snoop.

  Before that however, she had to get to some stim tabs before she collapsed. Not only that, she thought it would be wise to pick up a few things that might come in handy.

  Chapter 23

  Narpok no sooner entered the beach house when a staff member rushed to her. The Dramok servant poured out question after question to do with what she wanted for breakfast, what she required for her bath, what gown would she like to change into, along with suggested answers to his questions. He seemed determined to not give her a moment to answer any of them before moving on to the next. Shaking with exhaustion, still recovering from her encounter with Ket, Narpok reverted to old habits. She screamed at the staff member.

  “Stop badgering me, you everlasting fool! What is wrong with you, jumping out at me and jabbering like a brainless dril? Shut up and let me think!”

  The Dramok drew back, his face registering shock at her lack of manners. Narpok gulped air as she tried to steady herself.

  After a moment, during which she kept her eyes closed and willed her pounding heart to calm, she opened her eyes to find the silent Dramok waiting. His previously fawning demeanor had closed down, making him cold.

  Narpok found a placating smile in her arsenal, though she doubted it would do any good at that point. “Mother of All, Dramok, take a breath between questions so I might answer one or two. I appreciate your enthusiasm to see to my needs, but you have to give me the chance to tell you what they are.”

  “Yes, Matara.” His tone was even, with no inflection whatsoever. She’d offended him all right. Oh well.

  “Good. I would like something to eat. The swala eggs with gusasp sounds good, along with the mixed vegetable and fruit juice you mentioned. What I want right away though is two stim tabs, as quickly as you can lay your hands on them. I’ll take it all in my suite. I don’t require anyone to sort out my bath as I’ll be going out again after I eat. Thank you.”

  Leaving the stone-faced servant bowing in the corridor, Narpok went to the master suite. She entered the sitting room and collapsed on the lounger. She thought she might faint.

  Less than a minute later, an Imdiko asked for entrance. He brought Narpok the stim tabs she was desperate for, along with the juice. She swallowed all of it as fast as she could.

  “More juice with your breakfast, Matara?” the servant asked cautiously. Apparently the Dramok had warned him about the bitch they waited on.

  Narpok sighed. “Yes, thank you, Imdiko. I would appreciate that very much.”

  He bowed and hurried out.

  Narpok stood up and paced. The juice had refreshed her, and the stim tabs had kicked in almost immediately. She felt much better already, though the muscles in her legs twitched uncontrollably. She knew she should be taking it easy while she could, but she was too excited to follow her own excellent advice.

  The Imdiko came back with her breakfast. He hesitantly offered to find her a change of clothes, but she demurred. “Thank you, but I’d like some privacy for now. I’ll call if I need anything. What was your name again?”

  He left the suite, his slight smile telling Narpok she’d redeemed herself with at least one member of the servants. She was pleased about that. Who knew if she might need someone friendly to her within Maf’s home?

  She ate hurriedly, eager to get moving now that she had energy again. Once that was done, she went to the sleeping room to consider the piles of clothes.

  She needed something appropriate in case she was seen going to Falinset’s home. A plan had begun to form in her head. All indications seemed to point to Maf being upset with his son for not cooperating with the immediate exchange of the princess for a clan Matara. Ket and Sitrel both said Maf had reached his limit where that was concerned.

  Narpok sensed an opportunity she could capitalize on. As she went over everything she knew of the situation, she felt sure this was the moment she’d been waiting for.

  Retribution would be hers. If she was the one to get her hands on the princess, the debts that had piled up would be paid.

  She traded the ugly pants for a light skirt and a more stylish blouse, just the thing anyone who saw her heading to Clan Falinset’s home might expect her to wear. The jacket she added to the ensemble was too heavy for the climbing heat of the day, but it had big pockets. She filled them with the things she believed would come in useful: the frequency disruptor, a medical injector, an engine bypass starter…

  A weapon would have been nice, she thought. She regretted not having at least a blade to take with her. Snagging a knife or laser cutter from the kitchen would set the servants to talking, particularly the Dramok she’d offended. There was no help for it though. She’d have to rely on her wits.

  Her legs still ached, but she felt good otherwise. Wishing for Ket’s little insect shuttle – really, why was he so proud of that ridiculous-looking thing? – sh
e set off for Clan Falinset’s home.

  Twenty minutes later, it was in sight. Narpok spied an armed Nobek soldier patrolling the grounds. He halted, staring at her as she made her way to the house that was less than half the size of Maf’s. Narpok ignored him and kept walking as if she had every right to go there. She did have Maf’s blessing to seduce his son’s clan, after all.

  She was not challenged. Soon Narpok was at Clan Falinset’s front door, standing on the low rise that served as a porch. The place gleamed white in the sun, now halfway up in the sky.

  Narpok tossed her head and combed her fingers through her tresses, as if primping. Actually she shook her hair out so that she could steal a look around, making sure no one was watching her too closely. No one seemed to be around, but she was sure she was under surveillance just the same.

  She fussed with her skirt as she had the night before, again obsessed with her appearance. This time instead of hiding a hair in her pocket, she brought the frequency disruptor out. Keeping it hidden as best she could in the folds of her skirt and pretending to trigger the door announce, she pressed a button.

  The door hissed open. Narpok entered the home, relishing the cooler air of the entryway and the light, pleasant scent of someone’s cologne. The door shut behind her.

  She stood there for a moment, listening for sounds. She heard voices further in the house and her hands clenched with sudden excitement.

  A child’s sweet trill rang down the hall. “Jump! Everyone, jump the hurdle!” A woman’s husky laugh followed the happy command. Narpok heard no other voices.

  She’d found Noelle. Flushed with the coming triumph, Narpok crept down the corridor, following the continued sounds of woman and child.

  * * * *

  Wekniz smiled to himself, listening to Noelle’s shrieks of laughter. He was glad the growing tension among the adults had little effect on her.

  He focused his attention on the tools he showed his clanmates, items that might help them overcome Sitrel – and any guards he might bring along – in their bid to get off Lobam. He picked up a blunt ram. It was basically a weighty metal cylinder with grips, used to smash open doors in order to get into a burning building. The entry tool would crack a man’s ribs if it came to close-quarter fighting.

  He told Falinset and Nur, “I’d rather we try to take our enemies out without having to get close enough to fight with this or blades.”

  “A good swing with that would cave a man’s head in,” Nur observed, wincing as he spoke. The Imdiko was not averse to fighting, but he wasn’t comfortable with bloodshed either.

  “It’s too heavy to swing. Hold it by these grips and ram.” Wekniz demonstrated the technique.

  Nur grimaced again. “Putting a hole in a man’s gut? Just as nasty.”

  Wekniz gave him a level gaze. “My Imdiko, do not hesitate to use as much force as you can.”

  Falinset was quick to agree. “He’s right. If not for yourself or us, fight for Tasha and the princess.”

  Mentioning the reason for why they were making a stand squared Nur’s shoulders. He nodded and took the blunt ram to practice with.

  Wekniz picked up a rifle next, one with a large canister for a barrel. “We might also be able to use this.”

  Nur’s brow rose. “A fire retardant rifle?”

  The Nobek smirked. “Blast someone in the face with it, and they won’t be able to breathe for several seconds.”

  Falinset added, “Plus the foam and propellant exhaust will make visibility hard. I like it. Let Nur have one of those.”

  Wekniz swapped the rifle for the ram. “Falinset, you take the other rifle. I’ve at least had basic training camp fighting; I’m the one who needs to be ready for hand-to-hand and knife fighting.”

  Falinset looked at him with a troubled expression. It warmed Wekniz to know his Dramok worried for him.

  Nur eyed the canister of his rifle. “Short barrel on this. Won’t we have trouble seeing and breathing too if we go into the retardant after we fire it?”

  “That’s where the oxygen masks come in.” He showed them the face-covering masks in which he’d already put in fresh filters and explained how to charge the oxygen component. “You’ll notice you can’t hear anything outside the masks until the oxygen transfer charges, which is about ten seconds. I’ll show you how to put these on. Follow along.”

  He demonstrated the proper placement of the mask that fit over the ears, encapsulating the front of their heads. He went step by step on how to adjust to make them fit right. He watched to make sure the other two put theirs on properly. Then following his lead, they pushed the button on each unit that sealed the masks tight to their heads and began the oxygen charging.

  The silence within his mask was absolute. He watched his clanmates to make sure they weren’t frightened by the complete absence of sound. Only the beat of one’s pulse was evident within the charging mask. Wekniz remembered his early days of training and how disconcerting he’d found the vacuum of noiselessness.

  Falinset looked uncomfortable. Nur’s eyes were wide, but he kept his gaze on Wekniz. He didn’t appear panicked. Wekniz smiled encouragingly as he counted down the seconds; ten ... nine ... eight...

  * * * *

  Tasha’s laughs joined Noelle’s hysterics. The red-faced girl’s shrieks of hilarity were funnier to Tasha than what set her off. It was impossible not to laugh along with Noelle as she screamed in helpless delight.

  Her multicolored vid animals jumped Tasha like a hurdle. The young woman lay on the common room floor next to the firepit that Wekniz had filled with scentwood that morning, waiting for nightfall to be lit. Tasha stretched out on her stomach, head resting on her crossed arms. She watched Noelle as the child rolled on the floor, her eyes streaming as she laughed and urged the little animals on. Some got stuck on the way over Tasha, draping weightlessly across her back as they kicked stubby legs in the effort to move. Sometimes she had as many as four vid pets struggling to crawl off her after failed vaults.

  It was a moment of sheer silliness that allowed Tasha to forget the growing danger they were in for seconds at a time. Playing with Noelle was supposed to give the girl pleasure, but Tasha admitted to needing the break herself. Unremitting horror sapped her strength.

  When Noelle looked up at whoever’s shadow fell over Tasha and smiled in recognition, she rolled over expecting to see one of the men. She jumped up with a horrified cry to see not Falinset, Wekniz, or Nur … but Narpok. The woman the Basma had sent.

  The Kalquorian woman’s drawn face lit with hectic light as they faced each other. She bore only the slightest resemblance to the still photo the news vids had shown, but it was still enough for Tasha to identify her. She looked gleeful as she looked Tasha over.

  “Matara Tasha, I—”

  Tasha didn’t wait to hear Narpok voice her triumph over her discovery. She swooped down and grabbed a thick chunk of scentwood. In one fluid motion, she swung hard. The hard wood connected with the side of Narpok’s head. The other woman went down in a heap, her eyes rolling over white before closing. Tasha stood over her, breathing hard, the length of wood raised to whack Narpok again if she stirred. There was no need. Narpok was out cold.

  Noelle’s laughter had cut off abruptly. She unleashed a horrified scream that scattered the vid animals in all directions. She started to cry as she crawled close enough to Narpok to pat the unconscious woman’s head.

  “You hurt Mommy’s friend, Tasha! It’s the quiet lady Narpok. Why did you hit her?”

  “Fuck!” Two things occurred to Tasha at once: that Narpok would not have come alone and no one from Clan Falinset had come running at the sound of the attack. Tasha turned to the common room’s door to scream for Falinset, her mouth opening wide. Before she could utter it, a man raced in and grabbed Noelle.

  Nobek Ket held the struggling child with one arm. He grinned at Tasha as Noelle squalled in fear. As Tasha raised her piece of wood threateningly, he pointed a percussion blaster at her.

/>   “I don’t need you alive, bitch. Just the brat.”

  Startled cries sounded from the back of the home. Barely two seconds later Wekniz was in the room wearing a clear face mask, his hands wrapped around a metal pipe with handles. A moment later Falinset, also masked, shot into the room holding a massive gun with the biggest barrel Tasha had ever seen. Then Nur was there, armed with another of the odd-looking rifles.

  They stopped short because Ket’s aim at Tasha’s head never wavered. The blaster held steady, its black barrel pointed at her face.

  Narpok groaned and stirred where she’d fallen, practically at Tasha’s feet. No one paid her any attention as Noelle’s screams died into moans and the rest remained frozen.

  It was Wekniz who spoke first, snarling at Ket “I always knew you were a coward. Hiding behind a child and threatening an unarmed woman … you are a blot on our breed.”

  Ket grinned. “On the contrary. There is a difference between being a coward and being smart.”

  “Not from where I’m standing. You’ve wanted an excuse to fight me for years, Ket. Put the princess and the blaster down. We’ll settle this now.”

  Ket’s harsh bark of laughter brought fresh tears sliding down Noelle’s cheeks. “Not likely. This may not have been Maf’s plan, but it works well enough for me. I’ve won his favorite hostage and a pure-Kalquorian Matara to boot.”

  Falinset’s eyes filled with hate. “He’ll despise you for your interference. He doesn’t want you at his side. He wants his son.”

  “Not now. He’s finally realized he’ll never going to win you over. You and your precious honor have lost you everything, brother. Not asking Narpok to clan right away was the final straw. Maf has given up on you.”

  Tasha barely followed the conversation. She watched Noelle, barely able to breathe for the horror of seeing her caught by Ket. The little girl held her arms out to Tasha, her streaming eyes pleading to be rescued.

  Tasha couldn’t let the monster take her. Yet the blaster still wouldn’t waver for an instant, wouldn’t give her a chance to act.